A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for your thoughtful, enthusiastic reading and reviewing. I am WAY behind in responding to everyone, but I will catch up, I promise. Also, the next few days are very busy IRL so I may not post again until Sunday, but I will try my darndest. :) ~ CeeCee
The group slowly disperses as Tyreese and Sasha fill the hole that holds David's mother. How many gravesides? How many Bible verses? Carol wonders as Conner leans heavily on her left side and Ellie grips her right hand tightly. A few of the other kids stand around her, and she thinks vaguely that she ought to get them inside for dinner.
She also has to go check on the baby, whom she left with Maggie. But Tyreese was right, she looks over at his strong back flexing with each shovelful of dirt scooped onto the grave. They are nearly finished. David is going to be fine…but what about Maggie and Glenn's child? What about these children? She looks at the little group of them clustered around she and Daryl and realize that, in all likelihood, not all of them will not see their eighteenth birthday.
"I'm hungry," Sarah says suddenly.
"Me too, me too!" A few of the other kids pipe up. They are tired and out-of-sorts. Carol understands how they feel.
"Then best we get you all inside and see what's cookin'," Daryl growls softly, and the kids nod eagerly. She smiles gratefully over at him. He nods, looks away. Lest he acknowledges more than gratitude, she muses. She understands him better than she understands herself, sometimes. What do you want, Carol? At this moment? She wants hot food and her warm bed. How warm? Another voice, the one that reared itself up for the first time in a long time earlier this afternoon asks. She glances speculatively over at Daryl, who is still turned away, and it asks again: What do you want, Carol?
For the second time today, she rudely shoves the voice aside and begins, with Daryl's help, herding the kids towards the prison. She realizes immediately that Conner, overcome with hysteria and exhaustion, isn't going to make it on his own. She struggles to support the child, but suddenly he is lifted off his feet, slung easily, but with care, over Tyreese's shoulder. He passes his shovel wordlessly to her as Conner lays his flushed cheek on his white tee shirt, puts his arms around Tyreese's thick neck. A little comfort. That's all we all really want…
"I got 'im," Tyreese's voice is husky, and Carol realizes his son would be Conner's age if he were here. Freddie. "You guys take the rest of the kids up, I got this guy."
"Thanks," Carol whispers, places her hand on his arm. Feels Daryl, behind her. Watching. "Thanks, for everything, today."
"Anytime," he gives her a warm look, one full of promise. Hoists Conner more securely in his arms, and heads towards the prison.
"Ready?" Daryl nearly barks this at her as she watches Tyreese carry the boy up the gentle slope, towards the prison.
"I'm ready," she begins herding the kids forward. Ellie is still holding his hand, and he's letting her. "I'm ready, are you?" She weights the words, nearly regrets them, once they fly out of her mouth. They float, like heavy bubbles, between the two of them. She glances over at him. He catches her eye. They walk in silence, listening to her students chatter with each other. She assumes he will just ignore the question.
But.
"For what?" He finally asks. They are nearly at the door of C block, and the kids run ahead, clamoring for dinner. They are alone with the setting sun. He kicks at the dust in the yard, lights a cigarette. He doesn't run. His body is folded into itself, and his isn't looking at her. But he doesn't run, like he did last week, after her knife class.
It's she, in fact, who ignores his question. "Thanks for the soap," she says quietly, walks towards him. Her heart is the roar of the ocean in her ears, the sound of a thousand drums beating allegro.
"Yeah," he looks up at her; a smile lands briefly on his lips. Flutters away. "I'm sorry about Marie." He says.
She sighs. "Me too," she pushes back self-recrimination, "Especially given Maggie and Glenn…"
"He's freaked," he replies, tosses the cigarette butts, grinds it out.
"He has reason to be," she sighs. "I made a promise to Maggie today I can't necessarily keep."
"You'll do your best," he states this with certainty.
"That might not be enough," she responds.
"Hell, that's all we got, right?"
She nods, and they both lean against the wall, in companionable silence. It feels almost as it did before, this quiet communion they two have. Unfortunately, now, there is so much more that's unspoken, bubbling up around them, hanging in the air. One of them needs to move slightly, to set them all popping. When he speaks, it startles her. Usually, she is the one to break the silences.
"Caught Carl at the gate, talking nonsense about people not tryin' to have babies anymore," his face is becoming harder to read in the dwindling light of dusk.
She laughs ruefully. "That won't happen. That would be a world without hope. And there's no stronger human need than for hope…'cept, maybe, doing what it is we do to make babies." He grunts noncommittally.
"What, you don't agree?" She suddenly feels like ribbing him, a little. "You were the one who gave me that soap. I smell pretty good now, see?" She leans towards him, and he looks up, for a split second, away again. And she sees that he is happy, that he is relishing her teasing. Something in her heart bursts open, towards him. Her frustration and annoyance at him, at herself, these past few weeks dissipates into the air around her.
What do you want, Carol?
She isn't quite sure yet. But she's getting there.