A/N: Thanks to anyone who voted for Weight in the 3rd Annual Caryl Fanfiction Awards. It didn't win, but Weight was the runner-up in its respective category, so that's still incredible. I'm so thankful that Weight was even nominated. It truly means a lot, so thank you Untapdtreasure for reaching out to me and again for anyone who voted, thanks you. Truly.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
– – –
Daryl woke up alone the next morning, feeling groggy from having slept so late, and he groaned softly, pushing himself up. He wondered out of his bedroom, not hearing any movement in the house, and he stretched, popping his back and shoulder.
He stumbled onward, discovering he had the house all to himself. He shoved his feet into his boots and searched for anybody. It was really eerily quiet around the town, and he couldn't see anybody he knew. There were plenty of people wondering the streets with weapons and tools, but he couldn't make out their faces. He wasn't sure if it was his eyes still adjusting or not.
Then it occurred to him how gray it was outside. The sky was gray, the world appeared to be clocked in gray, and it wasn't cold. There was no temperature whatsoever. He wandered through the streets, trying to find Rick or Michonne. He didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, it wasn't healthy for anybody. Especially him. Maybe he suffered some head trauma he didn't know about.
As he neared the clinic, he heard his feet hitting puddles, but it hadn't rained. Or perhaps he slept so hard he didn't hear a sound. Yet when he looked down, he saw they were not puddles of water rather puddles of blood. Red glistening blood that seemed to glow against the gray of the world. They were also too big and too plenty to belong to one person.
He began to run, his boots staining red with each puddle they found, and soon his pants and boots were soaked, and his eyes learned who the blood belonged to. It was the blood of his family, of the people of Alexandria, as they lied in one massive pile like discard clothes. They were all pale with unnecessary cuts along their bodies and a slit on their temples.
His eyes fell to Carl, who was still alive, on his knees, covered in blood. He wanted to run over and ask what had happened, but the boy stared lifelessly at something—someone—in the pile of bodies. Daryl's pushed on to see what Carl saw, and he wished to God he hadn't.
It was Judith. She was so small among the pile of adults, her little outfit as red as rubies, her belly sliced open, and unlike the others, there was no slit on her forehead. So there she sat...sliced open like an animal, mouth smeared with the blood of another's, ingesting what she could with what few teeth she had. She was left to turn, and there she was. Her once precious face covered in dark veins, her light hair dirty and bloody, her little hands grabbing whatever she could reach, and that disgustingly gentle moan that escaped her lips was all too new and yet so familiar.
Carl moved to sit beside her now, Daryl couldn't open his mouth to ask him what he was doing, and he saw the boy reach for the knife in his back pocket. He couldn't watch this. He couldn't watch Carl kill this form of his baby sister. He couldn't stand here and let him do that.
However Carl threw the knife away...took Judith into his arms as he lifted his head upward to gaze at the sky, his blue eye bright and puffy, and he let them close as Judith bit down on his neck. He didn't groan. He didn't cry out. He just held her closer, rocking her like he did when she was a child, and he sobbed silently while Judith chewed on his neck, awakening the infection inside their bodies.
"Oh, there he is."
He tensed at that voice and turned to find the red-haired cunt herself, wearing the blood of his loved ones proudly, wrapped in a poncho. She was smiling at him, and he reached down, picking up the knife Carl had tossed aside, and he gripped it tightly.
"You really don't want to do that." She fearlessly strolled up to him. "It'd be triple homicide, and I don't think you could live with that." She pushed the poncho back to reveal a heavily pregnant belly.
The knife dropped from his shaking fingers, and he paled, his throat moistening as a wave of nausea coursed through him.
"Don't worry about our boys. They're pretty tough." She rubbed a hand along her stomach. "Just like they're daddy."
"I'm not—"
"Oh, and the bitch who was carrying your child... Don't worry about her either." She moved out of his way to show him what she'd done with her. "The blanket I found with her was cute. I'll keep it for the boys."
Daryl collapsed at the sight of the woman he loved most in this entire fucked up world, and tears filled his eyes. "No, no, no."
She was lying with one hand curled up by her face, her head fallen to the side so her beautiful blue eyes stared at him, revealing every inch of emptiness inside of her now. Her skin was ashen, a dark hue of blue traced her lips and blood splattered her face.
Her body was...mutilated, blood seeping out around her, her shirt tone to pieces, and her belly was sliced wide open. It was overdone, beginning at her collarbone and stopping short of her pelvis, and her hand rested inside of the gape; as if she was trying to hold it together, trying to keep herself together. The baby...wasn't there. It'd been removed, just like Pentaghast said. She'd carved the baby out of Carol, and a few feet away...just out of reach was the baby. The placenta had been cut, the liquids drained around it, and the small little thing was coiled up as thought it were still in the womb. It looked impossibly unreal on the earth, nestled in a small patch of grass.
Pentaghast had sliced Carol open and moved her baby out of reach so they both died alone. Carol never saw her own child, as it was rolled away from her, and those hollow blues cast judgement on Daryl. For what he let happen, for his crime. This was his doing. He led her to this home, and he didn't warn anyone. He didn't protect anyone. Not Carl, not Judith, not the two most vital people in his life—nobody! He was asleep, and she took over. She took everything. Everything that ever meant anything to him.
"Daddy doesn't look so good boys. We'll have to take care of him." She cupped his chin. "And he'll take care of you." Her nails dug into his chin and draw blood. "Or what I'll do to you will be much worse, and you'll live to tell the tale." Her lips neared his to seal the deal.
He jolted and shot up in bed, panting heavily, sweat coating his brow, and he reached for Carol only to find her spot vacant and cold. He panicked and jumped out of bed, and the moment he opened the door a woman entered, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly.
"Daryl." It wasn't Carol. It was Michonne, although she reciprocated the hug and frowned at the dampness on his skin. "What's wrong?"
"Where's Carol?" He didn't let go of her just yet.
"She left this morning." Michonne patted his head gently, like she used to do with Andre. "What's wrong, Daryl?"
"Is Rick here? I need to talk to y'all." He released her. "Now."
"He's having breakfast with the kids. Why don't you wash up? We'll talk when you're out. I'll make you a plate."
"No, this has to come first."
"You look like a mess. If you go out there, it'll worry Rick and Carl, and Judith is sensitive to this kind of thing. You'll upset her. You don't want to do that to a little girl, do you?" She played on his love for the girl, and doubt flooded his eyes. "Just get cleaned up, and we'll get some food in you. Then we'll talk, okay? All three of us."
He did what she asked of him, showering quickly and changing even more rapidly. He took his time with eating, because he didn't want to choke, and he had Judith on his lap the entire time. She was certainly more mobile than he remembered, and she wanted to be with him. She helped herself to the fruit on his plate, playing with it, and Michonne chuckled at the sight of it. Carl too, before he had to head to class.
Once he'd finished eating, he sat them down and told them what happened on the run: Lee and Morris' murderers, the bomb, how Maggie got injured, and all about Pentaghast. He didn't leave out a single detail, including what she may or may not have done to him.
"Oh, my God." Michonne's stomach sank. "You don't know?"
"No." He stood across from where they sat on the couch. "I don't."
Rick inhaled. "Can we find her?"
"I doubt it." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Trail's been cold for days."
"So, what? We wait for her to come here?" Michonne was already scowling. "There has to be another option—a better option."
"Like what?" Daryl inquired. "You tell me, 'cause I don't know where to go from here. I really don't. I want to protect Carol and the baby from this bitch, but I don't know how to find her. Let alone where to begin findin' her."
"We can't just wait around." Michonne rose. "I'll talk to Denise and Maggie, see if they know more. They were around her. They might have overheard something."
"I need to talk to Carol," Daryl said. "But let me know what you find out."
"Are you goin' to tell her?" Rick lifted his head to gaze into Daryl's eyes.
"No."
"Why not?" Michonne's scowl deepened. "She deserves to know."
"She's pregnant, and I don't want that kind of stress on her right now. And for all I know, nothin' happened. I don't want her... I just don't think it's the right time."
"There's never a right time for this type of confession," Michonne informed him, "but it is your choice. I'm gonna talk to them, and...then meet Sasha to take over the wall." She set a hand on Rick's shoulder when she walked by.
"You think I should tell her?" Daryl rubbed his jaw and glanced at his friend. "Don't you?"
"It doesn't matter what I think. It's your relationship with her." He hopped up and locked his gaze in Daryl's. "It's a new relationship, and if you want to start it with a secret or a lie, that's up to you. I won't say anythin'. Michonne won't either, if you ask her not to."
He heaved a sigh. "Do you know where I can find her?"
"The empty house. Well, it's more of Morgan's house now, but she'll be there."
"At Morgan's?" His brows furrowed. "Why the hell's she over there?"
"Yoga." That was all he said before he departed.
Daryl frowned and followed Rick out the door, shifting his course towards what was now Morgan's house, and he wasn't sure what to expect. He didn't believe they were seriously doing yoga. He knew Morgan had his morning routine to keep him from brutally murdering everyone, but Carol didn't have that problem. She didn't even like Morgan. They never saw eye to eye, so what the hell happened in the two weeks that he was gone that could have changed that?
He spotted them through the window, Carol was smiling, and Morgan looked a little embarrassed. He didn't know what was going on, but suddenly Carol was hugging him, and Daryl was thoroughly bemused now. He felt a little lost, watching them two of them interact, and he wondered what exactly happened. It didn't look like yoga, that was for sure. Although he didn't know what yoga looked like.
Carol let him go and moved out of Daryl's view, and he stepped forward to try and see her again, and he forgot Morgan was still by the window. And he could see him if he turned, which he did. Morgan waved him in, and Daryl had a feeling he might get chewed out.
"I heard you were back." Morgan showed him in. "I wasn't inside the walls when you came back. I'm glad you're in one piece." His eyes cut over to where Carol was. "I'm not the only one."
Daryl cleared his throat. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." He was trying not to snicker. "You missed the appointment, right? Did you see the sonogram?"
"Uh, no, not yet." He'd forgotten. He barely remember anything about coming home. Hell, he just remembered the gates and Carol's hand in his hair. That rest was a blur. "Did you go with her?"
"Not me. Rick did."
"Why didn't you go? You two seem closer."
"It was an intimate moment. I don't think we're close enough for me to be there." He smiled a little. "I didn't need or deserve to be there."
"And Rick did?" he blurted, not liking his use of intimate. "How just intimate was it?"
"The same as always." Carol joined the two of them. "Morgan just...views it differently."
Daryl blushed slightly. "Oh."
She smiled. "Good morning."
"Good mornin'." He returned her smile, suddenly losing interest in Morgan and his use of the word intimate.
"I'll let myself out." Morgan didn't wait for a reply before peeling out.
"How did you sleep?" Carol studied him, moving closer. "Well? Okay? You need a nap, maybe?"
"Nah, I'm rested. Very...well rested." He ran his eyes over her. "I missed you."
"I missed you." She chuckled and made a face. "We missed you."
"How is the baby? I meant to ask last night."
She blinked. "You did. I told you about the appointment."
He thought back but drew up a blank. "I don't remember."
"Not a thing?"
"Not a thing." He didn't like how upset she looked. "What's wrong? Did I say somethin'? Or do somethin'?"
She lowered her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. "No. You didn't say anything. You went right to sleep."
"Carol..."
She smiled once more. "I like when you say that."
"Say what? Your name?"
She nodded. "You never say it. At least not to me."
"Do you want me to say your name to you?"
She lifted her head. "You'll definitely be saying my name more, and it'll be just between the two of us."
His previous blush returned with a vengeance, and he stuttered, making her laugh. "Wait..."
"Sit, please." She sat on the couch and inhaled to prepare herself for this time. It'd been a long time coming.
Sit. Please. A strong wave of déjà vu washed over him, and he did as instructed, meeting her eyes. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was positive she could hear it. It was all he could hear, honestly. It was amplified in his mind and pounded in his ears, and he felt ill. Underneath his skin was a bundle of nerves, and that'd been there all along. They were only more noticeable now. He knew what was causing them now, and that was why he couldn't ignore them or settle them. Love wasn't something to be ignored or calmed down. He wished, because if this went poorly...
"Did you eat?" Carol's voice broke into his thoughts.
"Eat?" He stared at her.
"Yeah, did you have breakfast? Morgan made me something. There's plenty left." She smiled a little. "My appetite's returned and amplified, which is to be expected."
"Morgan, huh?" He said it like it was candy too sour to be liked.
"We're just friends," she assured him. "He's helped me a lot with what happened with the girls. I don't think I could have come to this point without him. I have a long way to go, but...inches mean a lot, you know?"
"He helped you?" Daryl studied her. "How?"
"Just...little things. It's difficult to explain." She crossed her legs. "It's...a good day today. I don't know if it'll stay that way, but for now I'm okay. That's thanks to Morgan and the baby...and to you."
He smiled slightly. "I missed you." He reached out to take her hand, but he didn't quite make it. He didn't know if it was okay, and she smiled softly at that and took his hand. "This is okay?"
"It's very okay."
"So...about what I told you before I left? Have you thought about it? I don't want to push you," he said, "and if you're not ready, then that's okay. It really is. I don't...want to force or guilt you into anythin'."
"Nobody can force me or guilt me into anything," she replied. "What I do and say is entirely of my own free will."
He nodded.
"So when I said I love you last night, I meant that I love you—I am in love with you. And I don't know how long I have been. It could have been weeks or months. It could have been longer than that, but I couldn't say. I've never known love like this. Unconditional love for my child? Yes, I know that like the back of my hand. Familial love? Without a doubt. But this? What I feel for you...? I've never known anything like this ever before."
Me neither. That what he wanted to say. Me neither. It was the truth. He didn't know love. First love, puppy love, any type of love that didn't have to do with blood. And hearing this woman—this incredible, gorgeous, brilliant woman—saying she loved him, she was in love with him...chased his voice from his very body.
What could he say? What could he even think? In all his life he always assumed the worst, and the worst always came. There was never any hesitation. The good was a joke that he never got to see, but the negative, the bad...there was never any doubt. So when he confessed his love after she called him out on it, he was damn near positive he would come back to have his heart crushed. He was ready for it. He was so ready for it. He could pretend he wasn't. He could pretend he was optimistic, but he wasn't. He wanted to keep an open mind, but it was like muscle memory. He was prepared to have his heart broken and to distant himself from the first and only woman he'll ever love.
Yet she'd said it. I love you. I am in love with you. She actually said those words, verbalized them. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't imagining. He wasn't crazy. Those words left her lips, and she wasn't looking at him with pity. She wasn't looking at him in any other way than she always had. With love, with trust, with respect, with...no doubts. He remembered the first time she looked at him like this. It was blurred by her weakened state, but it was plain as day, just as it was now. And the only things that had changed were the amount of affection he saw there and that they were going to be parents.
"Daryl?" Carol waved a hand over his face, and he caught it, causing her to flinch at the sudden movement. The man had been a statue for a good five, ten minutes, and suddenly he just caught her hand. Even the baby jolted at that.
He blinked several times. "Sorry. I just...uh,... You said that."
She studied him without speaking.
"You really said that."
"That I love you?" The grin couldn't be helped. "Yes, I said that. Four times, I've said it."
"I love you too."
She raised her hand gently and brushed his bangs back to reveal his entire handsome face, and her fingertips trailed down to his jaw where they remained. "I know, and I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out—"
"No, no." He shook his head. "I—You needed that time to figure out where you were, what you wanted. It's—you needed it. I get that."
Her heart warmed. "Thank you."
He brought his hand up to hers and caressed her knuckles gently. "So, you love me, and I love you?"
"No need for it to sound like a question."
He looked down and smiled, meeting her eyes. "What happens now?"
"I'm not sure." She inhaled. "I suppose we'll take it slow."
"How slow?" He blushed at the sound of that. "No—not that I wanna do anythin'. I just—I don't know how—"
"It's okay." She laughed. "It's okay. I understand what you meant."
"Do you? 'Cause I ain't too sure I do." Another laugh, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "I've never...done anythin' like this before."
"I have...in another life." She exhaled and shrugged both shoulders. "But I don't want this...us...to be like anything I've ever experienced, because that clearly ended. I know it can't last forever—life doesn't last forever—but I want it to feel like it will, like...nothing will come between us. When the baby arrives, I want...to still feel as close—if not closer—to you as I do now."
Daryl began to frown now. "Wait..." There were tears in her eyes where happiness and love used to be, and he felt a cold chill course through his body, freezing his heart. Here it was. The negative, the bad—it had come for him, just like always.
"Biologically...this baby isn't yours," she strained. "I know it doesn't matter to you now. You've shown that to me in every way, but...the baby isn't here yet. He or she isn't even...present. I'm not showing. It's a fact, but it's not real just yet. It's not...alive to you yet."
"That's bullshit." His voice was lethally low.
"It might be, but Daryl, this baby...just like Sophia...will be the most important thing in my life. It's just the way it'll be. I can't...handle this baby coming between us."
"And it won't. I don't care about biology or—any of that. It's your kid, and I love him or her. No matter what. It's you and him or her. It's real to me—all of it—and it has been since I heard the heartbeat, since I saw our baby on that screen. It is our baby. Yeah, it's Tobin's, but I don't care. It's yours too, and I love you. I love this kid, because it's part of you. There's no way I can be jealous or angry at part of you... And maybe there it'll be more like Tobin or look like Tobin or whatever, that doesn't matter to me. Even if a shred of you is in that baby...I love it for the rest of my life."
Tears streamed down her cheeks. "What if...one day the baby resents you? Because you're not Tobin? What then?"
"I'll deal with it."
"I don't know how—"
"Nothin' set in stone," he interrupted. "The kid might not like me, or the kid will love me. We won't know till its all grown up. You don't needa worry about that shit right now. I won't stop lovin' this kid. It's all real to me. I ain't clingin' to pictures. I'm clingin' to our kid. I want this baby to be safe, to be healthy. To be loved. We can provide all of those things. Hate me or love me, as long as I know its taken care of, I'm fine with it."
She sucked in a breath to calm herself. "I'm crazy, aren't I?"
"You're not crazy."
"I have to be." She wiped her eyes. "Of course the baby's gonna love you."
He didn't smile. "The baby's gonna love you too."
"I want to believe that. I really do." She dropped a hand to her stomach and stroked it. "I don't know. I honestly don't."
"How can it not?"
"I used this baby's father to try and run away," she answered. "I didn't love him. I didn't...want him. This baby was an accident, and if I'm being honest...I didn't want the baby when I first found out I was having it. At my age...in this world...how could I even want to bring a child into this world?"
"Glenn and Maggie are tryin' to do it. And Judith is happy."
"She's been at risk. You know how big of a risk she's been caught up in." Icy eyes met his. "I can't live knowing that might happen to my baby. I can't live...if something happens to my baby."
"Nothin' gonna happen. You're in good health. The baby too. You're strong—"
"Who's Pentaghast?" she demanded, and Daryl tensed, all color draining from his face. "You were having a nightmare when I woke up this morning. You kept saying that name."
"It—it's nothin'."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not. It's nothin'."
She scrutinized his face. "I don't believe you."
"Well, you're gonna have to." He stood up. "It's just a name. Don't mean nothin'. You're just... just..."
"Just what? Hormonal?" she snapped. "You don't want to go there, Dixon. Trust me."
"No, you're just blowing up over nothin'! It's just a name!"
She crossed her arms over her chest. "If you love me, you won't lie to me, right?"
"What?"
"If you love me, you won't lie to me. So...who's Pentaghast? The trouble you ran into on the road? Or someone from before?"
"Pentaghast is nobody. It's just an ugly name for an ugly person. Don't make a big deal out of it."
She wasn't buying it, but she didn't want to get into a fight. She'd gotten her struggle out, and he wasn't ready to get his out, so she'd drop it. She'd pushed too much today anyway. She shouldn't have insulated any situation where Daryl wouldn't love this baby, or this baby wouldn't love him, but she'd gone over it. She had to consider it. For the baby, for herself and for Daryl. She didn't want him to be miserable, because her baby might not like him, or he couldn't view Tobin's baby as...his in any way once it was in his arms. He might still reconsider his position, or...maybe he'd fall in love with the baby. He'd taken to Judith, and she wasn't even a part of the woman he was in love with.
"Why're you smilin' like that?" He was lost. He had no clue where she was mentally, but he hoped it was off Pentaghast. He wanted to forget about her. He wanted to just find her and end her and have it be done with. He didn't want Carol anywhere near her. Carol or their baby. The bitch would fry before Carol even knew what color her hair was if he had any say.
"Do you know how to swaddle?"
He blinked, nose crinkling. "Like a duck?"
She giggled. "Not waddle. Swaddle."
He shook his head. "All I got is duck."
"Okay." She walked over to him. "I suppose I have some teaching to do."
"I suppose so." If it kept her off Pentaghast and taught him how to be a better father then he was all for it.
"Let's go upstairs. We can work better up there. It's where Morgan and I have been working."
"Morgan and you?"
"Yes. He was a father once too. We exchanged some tips. I'll show you."
"All right, but I ain't doin' the stick yoga shit."
She smirked. "It's not stick yoga."
"Rick said it was."
"It's prenatal. He picked up a tape from Harlan to do it with me." She climbed the stairs.
"Do it with you?" He chased after her. "What kind of stuff do y'all do...with prenatal yoga?"
"Nothing you'd want to hear about." She turned left at the top of the stairs towards the room she and Morgan had made into a makeshift nursery. "We had to steal one of the baby dolls Glenn brought back, but it's a pretty sizable doll."
He entered the room and found the sizable doll baby and some unused diapers and some of her clothes and Morgan's. His lip curled upward at the sight of that, but he knew nothing had happened between them. Morgan wasn't the type, and Carol had used this time apart to figure out her feelings. She didn't do that by screwing around with Morgan. That would be insane...wouldn't it?
"Unless you want to work on your pelvic core, I'd suggest you come here." She'd seen him eyeing the discarded clothing she and Morgan had left behind. "And again...nothing happened. It wouldn't, especially after—er..."
"After?" He narrowed his eyes.
"After I figured out how I felt. There's only been only one other man before you, and he doesn't really count. I didn't love him, and I never did." He gave her one of the best things in her entire life, and he nearly ruined it, but the world went ahead and took care of both of them. Sophia deserved so much better.
He wasn't sure if she meant Tobin or Ed, but those words applied to both, so it didn't matter. The clothes were just clothes. They were over shirts worn on chilly days, and the heating unit drove to be ditched in a pile. That was all there was to it. He was overreacting if he thought there was more to it. Overreacting or being an asshole. Likely both. He would drop it. He had other and more important skills to learn.
"Okay, so where do we start?" He closed the space between them and met her eyes, ready and eager to learn about becoming a better father.
A soft smile crossed her lips. "With swaddling."
"Won't we need a duck?" he mused.
She chuckled. "Okay, if you say that one more time, I'll throw you in the pond."
"I don't doubt it." He reached over and loosely grasped her fingers with his, earning a wider smile from her, and he felt his precious nerves melt. It'd be okay. He knew whatever happened next would be manageable. They would get through it together, as friends, as parents, as warriors, as...lovers. Heh, yeah, as all of those things and more.
– – –
"Hey." Rosita neared Abraham. He was lending Eugene a hand on fixing the broken machine they'd picked up, and she needed to have a word with him. Him and Spencer, but Abe was the easier of the two. She had to lecture Spencer, and she wanted to put off that off as long as possible, because she had to apologize too. She wasn't fond of apologies, but she did owe him that much.
"Hey." He rose out of his chair. "Do you need something?"
"A word." She didn't move any closer, and she inhaled deeply. "Look, let me just say what I have to say then you can do whatever you want with it."
"All right." He locked his gaze in hers.
She let it pour out. Everything she felt about him before he left, everything she felt after and then Sasha. She didn't care how uncomfortable she made him. She needed to let her feelings be known. She had no choice anymore. They were becoming too toxic to hold in, and if she wanted to truly move on this was how she started.
The more she talked, the lighter she felt, and even began to smile as she neared the end. She could say this last thing with a smile on her face. She meant it, but now it was more believable. She wanted him to have that peace, just like she wanted to have her own. He didn't have to take in her anger and annoyance, but she didn't have to cling to them either. They were free to float in the air around them, to one day vanish into that air and never been seen or heard from again, and that was truly something to smile about.
"I'm happy," she concluded, "if you're happy. Sasha's awesome. She seems to make you happy, and...I'm not upset or angry. I just want the best for you. That's all I have to say, so I'll let you get back to it." She turned on her heel and was about to leave when he called to her.
"I want that for you too."
She halted and peeked over her shoulder at him, not speaking.
"If I could find someone...something like this... I wanted you to have the same chance. I don't know if that's Spencer or not, but if it is...good luck. He's a tit."
She chuckled. "Yes, he is, and no, he's not."
"You never know."
"No, I know. And he's not. He's just...convenient." She couldn't be hurt by the truth, but Spencer could be, so she needed to stop by his place next. "Goodbye, Abraham."
He nodded to her. "Same to you, Espinosa."
She exited the garage and strolled down the street towards Spencer's house, and she wrapped her arms around herself. The sun was out, but it was chilly. She could see her breath if it held too much warmth. She knew she was also shaking off the last relationship she would likely have. She and Spencer didn't have a future. He was too much of a child right now, and she didn't want anything or anyone. She just needed time by herself. Denise was right that this was the first time she'd ever been alone, and maybe it wouldn't be so horrible to explore this. She might learn something about herself. She would only find out if she tried.
Spencer was inside his house in the living room, poking at the fireplace, and he seemed a little surprised to have company. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like what his company had to say, or the reason why she was here, but honestly it was better to have awkward company than none right now. It was too quiet around the house. Funny, because months ago it'd been too loud. How cruel must time be? Time and a certain asshole who still had his entire family.
"Do you mind if I sit?" She gestured to the couch.
"Go ahead."
She curled up in the corner nearest to the fire and rested her hands between her thighs. "Don't you look snug," she jested at him all wrapped up in a turtle neck sweater. "I think my uncle owed that shirt."
"Guess your uncle had good taste."
She chuckled. "He didn't."
He almost smiled. "Why are you here, Rosita?"
"To talk." She moistened her lips. "Look, about what's been going on between us—"
"If you're here to apologize or end it, don't bother. I worked that out for myself." He set the poker down and stood up, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You can stay and get warm if you want, but don't. I told you before: I'm fine with just screwing around. We don't need to do this."
"No, we do. I do." She met his eyes. "God, you're such a child, you know that?"
"Oh, I'm a child? What about you? You're the one using me to get over someone else? That's pretty fucking weak, Rosita."
"I'll admit I was vulnerable and make mistakes. That's the mature thing to do here, and that's why I'm here. To apologize about what happened between us." She rolled her eyes. "I should have realized I was talking to a child. I would have tweaked the speech down, used little words."
"Yeah, so mature."
"You need to stop," Rosita snapped. "You're pissed at everyone, at the whole world, and you don't even see that, do you? You just live in this little bubble your parents build for you. Have you even tried to break out of it?"
"Why should I? Give it a day or two or a week, Rick'll do it for me. Hell, he might even get me killed. It wouldn't be the first or second or even third Monroe he's gotten killed!"
"He didn't get anybody killed!" Rosita hissed. "Nicholas did. Pete did. Walkers did. Not Rick. You got a taste of this world and didn't like it, so you're going to pin it on the people and person who can help you survive it."
"Do you even hear yourself? In the past six or more months, my family has been wiped out—"
"And you think you're the only one?" Rosita's chest was heaving rapidly as her anger boiled over. "You think you're the only person in this hellhole who's lose someone? No, not even close."
"I didn't—"
"You and Maggie are in the same boat. She lost her mom, her stepmom, her stepbrother, her baby sister, her father. Oh, and not to mention her unborn baby!" Rosita couldn't keep the venom out of her voice. "You want to sit there and play the pissed off spoiled little brat, go right ahead, but don't you dare think you have it the worst.
"I don't even know what happened to my family, and what I do know looks just like yours. I didn't even get to say goodbye or I love you or anything. They were just gone. I had to toughen up. I had to become the best, because I wasn't going to be like the them. I wasn't going to let the world take them and then me, so I fought. It wasn't easy, but I'm a quick study. I've overcome. That doesn't mean I don't miss my family. That doesn't mean I'm cold. That means I do what I have to do to keep myself and my new family going and alive. It isn't an easy road. You lose people—good people—like Noah...and Reg and Deanna." Her eyes burned. "Like Maggie's kid sister and her baby."
He swallowed hard and averted his eyes.
"Moms, Dads, sisters, brothers, children—you lose them too. This isn't the world any of us wanted. This isn't the world Judith and Carol's baby deserve, but it's the world we got. We have to deal with that and work together to make it a better world for them and for us. We don't get to cry and blame and expect things to work out in the end. We do and we fight and we move on. It's not that easy, but you learn to live with the scars. You have no choice but to."
"Stop," it was a whisper so soft she barely heard it.
She rose up off the couch. "It doesn't stop, Spencer. It never stops, so you need to grow up. You're not Deanna. You're not Reg. You don't know who you are, so I think you need to find out. You need to stop blaming people—or just blaming Rick. You need to mourn and move on, or you'll just join the bodies in the graveyard. Nobody can do anything for you anymore. And you have it in your head that it's just you, but it's not. You have family outside of blood. You're just too stubborn and too pissed to see them."
He opened this mouth to protest, but she didn't let him. "Figure out who you are before you try and assume who someone else is, Spencer. Do us all that favor. If you're going to be a pissy brat, at least be a pissy brat that's actually you. You don't fit so well in other people's shoes. I'm sorry about your family and about us. I really am, but you had months and months with them loving you and protecting you and having parties and dinners. You had a normal life at the end of the world. You don't know how lucky you are. You can't don't know what any of us would give to have those moments for even a second with someone we lost. Why don't think about that? Instead of you, you, you, okay?"
With that, she was gone, and he was left with a crackling fire in a house quieter than he'd ever known it to be.
– – –
Enid was curled up in front of the fire with the still nameless puppy in her arms, the pair of them napping, and Glenn and Maggie were snuggled up on the couch beside them, watching them. It brought such warmth to them, a warmth the fire paled in comparison to, and it was time. Time to talk, time to admit the wounds had scarred over, time to...start again.
"Maggie." Glenn looked at her, his fingers playing with hers over the blanket. "There's something I want to talk to you about."
"Me too." She met his eyes. "But you can go first."
He sucked in a breath and smiled. "I want to try again. I want to talk to Harlan and work out any...issues. I want to be parents to a child of our own. I want to make something good and put it out into the world."
She grinned. "Me too."
"Really?"
She nodded. "I don't know how it'll turn out, but I want a baby with you. I want to leave something good behind in this world. Just like you said." She tightened her grip on his fingers. "Something that's just ours. There's a lot to talk about, and we'll talk about it. With Harlan and with each other, with Enid, but for right now, why don't we just...sit here and enjoy the fire with our...newborn puppy and our daughter?"
"Okay."
They wouldn't see Harlan until Carol's next appointment, and that would give them weeks to talk and to think it over and truly know if they were ready for this again. Good or bad, they both wanted to try, but wanting wasn't the same as being ready for. They had a lot to learn and a lot to recover from. If this went badly, there was no telling how it would damage them, so they needed to do everything within their power to ensure it didn't end badly. So preparation and time and consulting Harlan were what they had to look forward to in the coming weeks. It would be difficult, remembering and talking about the miscarriage, but difficult pasts sometimes made way for a better and beautiful future. That's what they were holding onto.
On the carpet, a smile crossed Enid's lips as she snugged the pup closer, and all she wanted to do was jump up and talk about this with them. She did resist however. This moment was private, it was between them, and they'd tell her when they were ready. She'd save her thoughts and affection for then.
–––
Daryl had learned about swaddling and diaper rashes and fevers and a lot of other things he would probably forget and have to ask about later on when they happened to the baby. Carol was a patient teacher, and he was grateful to have her there. It made him fall more in love with her, just having her by his side, and while she was schooling him, he didn't care. He could have listened to her talk about the baby—their baby—for the rest of his life and been content.
His eyes fell on her now. She was curled up on the bed, napping for the past hour, and she looked so adorable. Her hair was messy, her lips parted and shut now and then, and her eyelids fluttered a bit. She wasn't sweating or panting or going through any nightmares. She was just dreaming, wrapped up in a blanket, and she was beautiful. She was...stunning and gorgeous, and she was in love with him.
In love with him. He still couldn't believe it. This amazing woman who was intelligent and thoughtful and been through hell and back was in love with him. He wouldn't belittle himself, but he wasn't... He didn't feel he was enough. He wasn't sure what he lacked to not be enough, but he was sure he wasn't. He loved her enough, there was no doubt about that, but he knew love wasn't enough to make a relationship work. They had understanding and were compatible. They had a bond, a connection they didn't share with anybody else, and they had a history. He still didn't know if that was enough, if he was enough, but he had her, and she had him. They would make it work. They would make it enough. More than enough, if he had any say.
They were going to be parents. They were going to raise this child together, and they were going to be together. They were going to be its parents and be a real family. A normal...nuclear family, and he couldn't believe he'd ended up in such a normal situation. Sure, it was the end of the world, and it wasn't his baby by blood, but it was his baby in every other sense of the world. He loved this child like it was his own. He was learning how to take care of it like a regular dad would. He was trying to straighten his shit out, so he wouldn't be the same father to his kid as his dad was to him. He was trying to become someone better, because he wanted this kid, their kid, to have a solid, loving family in this fucked up world. He didn't know how far he'd come or how much further he had to go, but he would break his back to overcome everything he had inside of him that might be harmful to his son or daughter. That was a promise.
He stood up from his spot on the floor where he'd been reading the book he'd gotten while out on that run with Glenn and Rick, and he set the book down on the bed, lowering himself down onto his knees beside it. He gently brushed the hairs from Carol's forehead away and placed a kiss there, and she inhaled softly, not waking, just rolling onto her back. He glanced at her face then her now exposed belly—her shirt was covering it, but she wasn't in a ball anymore—and he moved his hand over her stomach.
"Hey, kid, it's me—again." He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake or even disturb Carol's rest. "Been a while since I last done this, but...it's been crazy out here." A little too crazy for his liking. Loss, murder, a tiny rapist, nightmares. More loss. He hoped the loss stopped. He couldn't take who he might lose next.
"Anyway, I just...wanted to let you know it ain't gonna be easy. Your natural father ain't here anymore. I'm real sorry about that. I wish you could've gotten to know him. He woulda been good to you. He woulda been overprotective and kinda of an ass, but he would've done anythin' for you. He died trying to do right by you. It was...a tough situation, but we're makin' peace with. At this point we gotta make peace with it, you know?
"We'll tell you all about him. He's got friends who are gonna tell you about him. They already love you. They want to protect you 'cause you're his blood, 'cause you're part of their family, same as he was. So you'll have his family. You'll have 'em to answer all of your questions, and I know it don't make up for him not bein' here to tell you himself, but...it's the best we can do."
He inhaled and stroked her belly with his thumb. "It's been a rough ride so far, kid, and it ain't gonna get any easier, but I'm here for you. Your mom's here for you. And a lot of family. You probably got too much family. They'll drive you insane, but...you're gonna love 'em. They'll have your back, and they'll always keep you safe. We'll always keep you safe. That's our job, even after you're able to do it yourself. It's our job to love you, and we already do. It's our job to protect you, and we already are. So right now it's your job to grow. Grow up strong and healthy, and we'll take care of everythin' else."
He didn't know he was crying until a hot tear fell onto his hand, and he shuddered, a flash of his nightmare coming back to him, and he steadied himself. "We'll take care of everythin' else." Starting with finding Pentaghast and killing her before she had a chance to even look at you, he thought to himself. He wouldn't let that anyone hurt his family. This was the first day of the rest of his life, and no one was going to take any of his family from him. His small family of three or his larger family. Pentaghast would die first. He would make sure of it.
