It was nearly midday when she stopped the car. A hundred feet away, the gate blocking the entrance to the old school bus depot remained closed and chained, but she could see tire tracks in the dust. Tracks that turned in. None leading out again. She closed her eyes and said a silent thank you to any power that might have been listening.
She let the car coast into the drive, put it in park and let it idle. Minutes passed while she tried to keep her breathing slow and even, trying not to think about what awaited her. She flipped up the sun visor and leaned forward to let them see her face. She was just about to turn the engine off and save the gas when the chain rattled, and the gate swung open. "Carol?" said Maggie.
She stepped out of the car, keeping the door between herself and the gate. "Okay if I come in?"
She moved quickly to catch the girl, who flung herself, weeping, into Carol's arms. All Carol could do was hold her for a moment and make soothing sounds. She was afraid if she tried to speak they'd both be there, crying, when the walkers arrived to make them their next meal. "Maggie, honey, we need to get inside."
They were waiting when Maggie brought her through the door, weapons trained on whomever was going to walk through it. She saw the shock run through them, and everyone spoke at once. How did you where have we thought it was awful Daddy Rick Michonne Judith… She put up a hand against the tumult.
"Guess you got my note." His voice was steady, warm. She tried to swallow against the lump that was stuck in her throat. She took one step toward him, and the others parted like a wave, leaving her stranded in the middle of the room, looking at him.
He looked like death warmed over. He looked like… what he'd always been. Her shelter in the storm.
She met his eyes, and walked into his arms.
She didn't know how long they stayed like that, wrapped around each other, her lips in the hollow of his throat, his face buried in her shoulder, breathing each other in. The adrenaline that had carried her all morning faded, and her legs began to quiver. He felt the tremors and pulled back, his eyes holding a thousand questions, but he started with the simplest. "What do you need?"
She smiled, grateful for an easy choice. "Water would be good. And I'd like to sit down."
Sitting down was interrupted by the need for hugging, and crying, and learning the terrible details of the prison's fall. She counted the faces and tallied the missing. Rick, Carl, Judith… Michonne. Hershel, dead at the Governor's hands. Tyreese, Lizzie, Mika, the rest of her storytime kids. She couldn't even connect faces to most of the other names.