Chapter 31

The moments after coffee in the morning, when Sophia would come down the stairs and chatter away about all she wanted to do that day, those were the moments that Carol noticed Michonne would go somewhere else. She'd sit there silently, but she was somewhere else. The look in her eyes showed a woman who was trying to hold onto something, trying not to show the world what she'd lost.

This morning, however, Judith made a mess with her biter biscuit, and Carol had noticed Michonne's distant look.

"Sophia, sweetie, can you take Judith and clean her up?"

"Sure," she offered. She hurried out of the room with the baby, and Carol sat down next to Michonne.

"Where are you?"

"Huh?"

"What's going on?"

"I feel like I'm playing a character," Michonne stated softly, tracing her finger along the top of her coffee cup.

"What do you mean?"

"I try to stay in character. I try to be happy, because I need my son to feel like everything's going to be ok. But at night?" She dug into her pocket, pulling out a silver locket necklace. "This was Aliyah's. Ali's." Carol felt her heart sink in her chest. "The day we saw each other in the woods? I told you Sophia's bracelet reminded me of someone. I picked it up, because I thought Ali might like it."

"Ali. Your daughter?" Michonne smiled sadly. "I was hunting. Mike—my husband—was watching Ali and Andre. After I showed you where I found the bracelet, after I left, I went back to the barn we'd been staying at. I was running it through my head, trying to figure out a way to tell Mike I hadn't found any food. There'd been a few rabbits, but they'd gotten away. I was so worried about seeing the hunger in his eyes, in Ali's eyes." Carol gently put her hand on Michonne's back. "I knew something was wrong when I got close to the barn. I knew. It was so quiet. Too quiet. They knew to be quiet, but it wasn't just then. The animals. The birds. Nothing. When I walked around the side of the barn, that's when I saw the doors swinging open in the breeze, walkers roaming in and out. And then I saw my Ali." She wiped a tear from her cheek. She was one of them. She was…and I just…" She choked back a sob.

"You had to do it, didn't you?"

"I couldn't see her like that. She was just…she was seven. She was just a baby." Michonne bit her trembling lower lip. "And then there was Mike on the ground. The other walkers. They were…there was nothing left."

"Oh God. I'm so sorry," Carol murmured softly, pulling her arm around her friend. "I'm so sorry."

"I put them all down. I cut into them. I thought it might…might bring some sort of justice, but it didn't." She gave a little shrug. "I wanted to set the place on fire. I wanted to just walk away. But I buried my Ali. And what was left of Mike." She sniffled. "And I was going to leave. Just walk away. I didn't want to see my son like that. I couldn't." She wiped at her eyes. I went inside. I didn't see him. There was so much blood, and I thought…I thought they'd just…" She swallowed hard and shook her head. "And then I heard something from the loft where we'd slept. I climbed up, and there he was, safe and sound. Asleep in the straw. I just…I just held him to me, and I promised that when I got him someplace safe, I'd be happy. He'd be happy. We could just…forget. I can't forget them. I can't. But remembering? It's…"

"It's a kind of pain you wish you could numb," Carol said gently. "I know. When I thought Sophia was…I just…it was something I couldn't put together. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. But Daryl helped me. He was good. He was…" She shook her head. "I can't imagine what it must have been like to see your daughter like that."

"I should have been there. I should have…"

"If you'd have been there, you might be dead, too. And then where would Andre be? Hmm?"

"I'm sorry," Michonne murmured. "I shouldn't…it was a good morning. You should be in your happy newlywed phase, and I'm just…"

"Hey," Carol said gently, "I'm always here if you need to talk. I'm so sorry for what happened to your husband. And your little girl." Michonne took a couple of deep breaths and relaxed a little.

"You're the first person I've told about them. Not even Noah or Ty or Sasha. What is it about you?" Carol chuckled at that.

"I guess I have one of those faces." Michonne smiled a little, and Carol gave her a hug. "Any time. I'm serious. You shouldn't have to carry all of that alone."

"Thank you," Michonne said softly. "Thank you."

The clouds had rolled in from out of nowhere, and the snow was coming down in thick sheets. Snow in Georgia wasn't the rarest thing, but this much snow was like something out of the movies. It didn't seem real. The winter was unusually cold, and Daryl couldn't help but wonder if this was Mother Nature's way of saying Hell was freezing over. After all, the dead were walking. What was next?

"Think it's about eighteen pounds," Carl offered, grunting as he hoisted the sack with the dead turkey inside.

"Maybe thirteen," Daryl muttered, pulling a cigarette from his shirt pocket and giving it a light. "Been a bad winter. Food's scarce for everybody. Everything."

"You still smoke?" Carl scoffed.

"Sometimes," Daryl shrugged. "You ain't gonna, though."

"Wouldn't want to. It's gross," Carl replied with an eyeroll. Daryl snorted.

"Right about that. Don't do it much. Just thought it might warm me up."

"Never seen it snow like this," Carl muttered.

"My granddad," Daryl pointed out, "he took me and Merle—that's my brother—to Colorado when we was little. Don't remember much. Don't remember him. Just remember snow. More snow than you ever could imagine." Carl watched as Daryl dragged his boot through the snow as they walked, kicking the soft, fluffy snow, watching it blow up into the air, glittering in the sunlight as it settled back down over the earth.

"You miss your parents? I mean, I know you said your dad was shitty, but…"

"Can ya talk like a twelve year old?"

"I'm thirteen," Carl grumbled.

"Oh, well, that makes all the difference," Daryl snorted. Carl rolled his eyes.

"Even if he wasn't a good dad, do you still miss him?"

"Nah," Daryl said with a shrug. "Don't miss him. Miss what I didn't have, I guess."

"I miss my Dad," Carl said quietly. "I feel bad. We got along, but sometimes I wasn't so nice. After my mom died, I think he…he thought I blamed him. I didn't though. And I never told him."

"He knew," Daryl said quietly. "He was proud of ya. You know that." Carl ducked his head low for a moment.

"So you and Carol got married?"

"Yeah," Daryl murmured, adjusting his crossbow on his shoulder. He eyed the boy.

"Cool," was Carl's response, before he heaved the bag with the dead turkey over his shoulder and walked on in silence toward the truck.

While Jenna napped and Judith napped, Carol spent the better part of the afternoon wrapping up toys that they'd found on runs and hadn't given the kids yet. Clothes were also wrapped, and Michonne came over around dusk to wrap a few things for Andre. They had decided to do Christmas morning at the Dixon house, and Michonne had already been extended an invitation. Sasha wandered over at one point, and Beth came down from her after-coffee cat nap, and the women chatted about Carol's wedding reception excitedly, all the while Carol kept reminding them that she didn't want all that fuss. She was perfectly happy just knowing that she and Daryl had promised themselves to one another forever.

Then Sophia had come down and explained that she was a little disappointed that she hadn't gotten the chance to be her mother's maiden of honor, and Carol had promptly told her that it wasn't the wedding and the ceremony that mattered to her. It was the people in her life that mattered to her, and she had that all the time.

Around dinner time, Carol started to worry, pacing back and forth at the front window, eyeing the street, looking for any sign of Daryl and Carl.

"They've been gone too long," Carol murmured, picking at a loose string on her sweater sleeve.

"It's Daryl. He knows what he's doing," Michonne offered.

"What if they were attacked? What if they're stuck somewhere out there, freezing?"

"Hey," Beth offered, putting a hand on Carol's shoulder. "Come on. Jenna's asking for you to read the Christmas book." Carol sighed and bit her lip nervously. "I offered to do it, but she only wants you. Come on. You have to stop worrying."

Everybody had already gotten hungry, and there would be no waiting on a turkey tonight. Tyreese had helped get the generator going so they could prepare a hot meal, and now that everybody had already eaten and were now just picking at the meager leftovers, Carol was starting to really worry about Daryl and Carl.

"Come on," Sasha urged. Everybody moved from the dinner table to the living room and sat around on the various chairs and on the couch. Beth moved to settle in next to Noah, their hands linking together. Carol couldn't help but smile at how happy the both of them looked.

Carol sat down and dutifully read the Christmas book to Jenna and Judith, and by the time the sky was completely black with a new moon, Carol put the children to bed before staying goodnight to her house guests.

"Mama, I'll stay up with you and wait if you want," Sophia offered, yawning into her hand from the couch.

"Honey, it's ok. It's late. You should go to sleep."

"Let me help you put the presents out, at least."

"Sure." Carol wrapped her arm around her daughter, and they made their way to the hall closet, where the wrapped presents had been stashed out of Jenna's sight.

"She'll be so excited," Sophia said with a grin.

"I remember when you were that age. Christmas morning was magic. You came bounding in at five in the morning, and I know your dad and I always acted like we were exhausted, but to be honest, we'd been awake since four just waiting for you to come wake us up." Sophia grinned at that.

"I knew Santa wasn't real, but you seemed so happy watching me open presents."

"You knew?" Carol asked. "That young?"

"Well, I kinda figured it out when I got up for a glass of water one night, and you and dad were putting my doll house together. Dad was drinking a glass of scotch, and he made some stupid joke about you wearing a Mrs. Clause outfit, which I totally didn't get at the time—thank God—and you told him that he'd have to be a lot more jolly to get away with putting on a Santa suit." Carol's cheeks flushed at her daughter's admission. "But you were always so excited for me to open my 'from Santa' presents, so I never told you."

"How did I get so lucky to have a daughter like you?" Carol asked with a sigh, pulling her daughter into a hug. Sophia smiled and helped her mother carry the presents from the closet to the tree, and they arranged them all around, making it feel something like the way it used to be.

They sat up for a little while longer, but after a while, Sophia could barely keep her eyes open. Carol sent her on up to bed and finally resigned herself to sleeping on the couch, waiting and hoping Daryl would return soon. The later it got, the more anxious she became. All she wanted was him home. Safe. Where the hell was he?