The reconstituted prison council convened its first meeting on one of the old buses in the depot yard. At first they just fell into the ripped-up bench seats and let themselves sag in place, grateful to be away from the pressure of all those pleading, terrified eyes, and looked around, each taking strength from the reassuring presence of the others. They were stronger together. Together they could take whatever the next steps would be.
Carol spoke up first. "I want to apologize for coming in here like gangbusters and maybe making more work for you all. I know I should have spent some time listening to people's ideas before I cut off debate like that, but…" she finished lamely, "I didn't want to." Daryl snorted, and Sasha smiled. "I got the feeling, though, that no one resented me doing it. Is that right?"
"Not at all, Carol," Sasha admitted. "We just couldn't seem to find agreement on anything - what direction we should head, what kind of place might serve to house us... and these people! Some of them were talking about looking to the government for help, like there's been anything left that resembled a central government for a year, or longer. It's been tough not to just slap some of them, but it's also hard to blame them when they've been so sheltered from the worst of it. I was grateful when you stepped up and put a stop to all of the endless tail-chasing. Now I feel like we can get down to some actual planning."
Glenn was pale, still, from his recent illness, but his voice was firm. "Before we get into anything else, Carol, I think we need to talk about where you were just before all the shit went down, and why. I'm assuming you've told Daryl what happened, and Maggie's told me what Rick told her, although I'm pretty sure there's got to be more to the story, and Sasha doesn't know - any of it?" His voice rose in question as he looked to Sasha. Her confused expression confirmed his assumption.
Carol drew a deep breath and looked around at them. "The day I went out with Rick on that run - the day before the prison fell - he exiled me, told me I couldn't come back to the prison with him." Sasha gasped, and Carol hurriedly went on. "I had told him I'd done something unforgivable…"
Glenn broke in, cutting to the heart of things. "You told him you killed Karen and David." This time Sasha was on her feet in an instant, backing away from where Carol sat.
"You killed them?" Her voice was horrified and shaking. "You took her away from my brother? How could you?"
Daryl's hand came up to cover Carol's (he always knows when I need him the most, Carol thought), and he interjected, "Siddown, Sasha. That ain't the whole story. Let her tell it." He turned to her and said, "They need to know the rest. The whole thing. They need to know they still can trust you."
Sasha's eyes narrowed. "But you trust her, Daryl?"
He nodded simply and said, "I love her. And I trust her with my life."
There it was. Carol felt her eyes well up, and fought the tears back. After all this time, to hear him so matter-of-factly affirm his feelings for her in front of all of them… His hand tightened over hers, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking at the moment. She glanced over at him, thinking, in all likelihood, he did. His gaze was steady on hers, and he squeezed her hand again, urging her to go on.
Carol cleared her throat and continued. "I told Rick I killed them… but the truth is, I was covering… god, I'm sorry, this is so hard to say. I found them dead already. Their throats had been cut. It was… Lizzie." Her voice rasped out the name, her dread for the girl's safety, and the safety of those who might be with her, running over her like icy fingers on her skin.
She told it the way she'd already told Daryl: the child's eerily calm demeanor when explaining what she expected to happen to Karen and David, her own impulse to cover up the girl's crimes. Even how she had submitted to Rick's harsh judgment, believing that it would be only a short time before Daryl rode to her rescue. Her cheeks were hot with shame at that part, but she felt his thumb slide reassuringly over the pulse in her wrist, soothing her, telling her he didn't resent her putting him in that position.
Glenn's voice cut through her thoughts. "I need to talk to Maggie about this. She's been a mess since you got back, thinking she was so glad to see you alive but afraid to trust you after what Rick told her you did."
"Who else knows?" Carol quickly asked. "I mean, who else did Rick tell? Do we even know? I understand you need to talk to Maggie, but for Lizzie's sake, I'd just as soon keep the rest of the details to us." She still held a faint hope of finding the girls, and prayed it would be soon, before whatever dark impulse occupied Lizzie's heart took form again and another human being suffered for it.
"I think it's just us, and I'd like to keep it that way," said Glenn. "We'll have enough to deal with these folks; they can't even take care of themselves, but they've got an abundance of opinions about what we're neglecting to do for them on that count, and I don't want to give them any additional ammunition."
The Governor had crippled his people, Carol thought. Encouraged them to continue living like they had in the world Before, expecting that someone was always going to take care of problems for them, denying the constant threats that existed outside the walls of Woodbury. Shielded them from the hideous realities of flesh-eating corpses and packs of human sharks trolling the world looking for victims. Part of her had envied them their ignorance, but no longer. They needed to wake up to harsh truths, now, before their naivete cost her anyone else in her family.
As sickening as she found it to admit, even to herself, she knew that she would have a hard time putting the safety of someone she'd known superficially for a few months over that of the people she'd spent almost two hard, grueling years with, living and suffering and trying to survive. While the Woodbury people slept in soft beds and never had to think about where their next meal was going to come from. It wasn't their fault they didn't have the kind of survival skills they should, but they needed to face facts: everyone needed to step up their game, learn to take care of themselves. So maybe Rick hadn't been entirely wrong - she wasn't the same person she used to be. This woman was harder, colder, less willing to compromise. Leadership didn't mean doing everything for others; it meant teaching them how to do for themselves, and if she was honest with herself, they hadn't done nearly enough at the prison to make sure their newest members learned that. And sometimes leadership meant hard truths, like the fact that not all of them were going to make it.