A/N: Carol's first night back with the group in 'When the Dead Come Knocking'
The Safest Place
Carol pushes herself to stay busy all day, or at least a busy as Hershel will allow and there's some comfort to be found in cooking and mending and the weight of a baby in her arms. Checking ammunition stores and cleaning weapons may be less familiar, but she draws strength from that too. It's all part of what she does to take care of her family now.
Distraction is harder to come by when night settles over the prison.
Judith's eyes are already fluttering closed as she draws the last ounce from her bottle and by the time Carol's practiced hands have coaxed a burp from her, she's fast asleep, a boneless warmth burrowed into her shoulder. Like Sophia, she thinks with a half-smile and it's an ache and a solace all at once. Midnight feedings were always her favorite. Just the two of them in the quiet and stillness, like they were the only people awake in the world.
Do mothers still think that way way in this world where the dead and the missing are often more present than the living? Like they are right now for her?
She settles Judith into the makeshift bassinet next to Carl and moves along the corridor, breathing a quiet thank you to T-Dog when she sees his pack, still neatly placed on the end of his bunk. Further on Glenn and Maggie's blankets are a tangled mess on top of the mattresses they pushed into the corner and she sees one of Maggie's shirts tossed in the corner. She'll wash it tomorrow so it'll be clean when the Maggie comes home.
Her footsteps are faltering as she approaches the cell she shared with Lori. She's avoided it since she looked into Rick's eyes and saw his loss-their loss-reflected there. Without really thinking it through, she keeps moving. Time enough to face that guilt tomorrow.
She's only consciously aware of her destination when she arrives at the top of the steps and for a moment she wishes desperately that he was there, then smiles wryly at the idea that she'd have the courage to find her way uninvited to Daryl Dixon's bed if he was actually in it.
But if she did? Would he stare right back at her and take her hand and pull her down to lie next to him? Would the warmth and the press of their bodies together offer comfort or consolation or something more?
When he comes back, maybe she'll find out.
She settles down, pushes his pillow into place and curls into his blanket, knowing that this at least he wouldn't object to. He told her to stay safe and right now this is the safest place she can think of.