Brazen Hussy - You are biased (which is perfectly fine), but I think he'd smack a lady just like he'd smack a man for speaking crap about him. Merle doesn't seem like he'd take shit and abuse from anyone, boobs or no.
crazstiz - Why thank you for the review! And the enthusiasm! ^_^
skittletitz - You're quite possibly the coolest person I know online. And for that I thank you for being so good to me, because I'm a hopeless loner in this fandom. *slicks hair back with comb and wears leather jacket in effort to be just as cool as you* ... *fails miserably*
MollyMayhem84 - I know! I think sometimes the Lt. pushes his boundaries with Daryl...the man has to know that he's quite close to an ass kicking at times when he gets too affectionate...
Lilone1776 - Yes, I agree, the Lt. needs his mojo now more than ever. I think it speaks volumes as to how much he cares more for others than he does himself.
Laura - Thank you! ^_^
A True Dreamer - I'm glad you're caught up as well!
ldyjaydin - Hmm...I like your thinking...*ponders*
GG - I think anyone would get excited trapped in a ZA with a crapload of ordinance. I know I would.
AFishNamedSushi - Taking Daryl out of his comfort zone is something everyone should try...it's very entertaining. ^_^
HGRHfan35 - Perhaps...I can't see it being anytime soon...but maybe one day Daryl might want to make an honest woman of Carol...^_^
Axelrocks - Bromance is perhaps my favourite term in the world for anything ever. True story. ^_^ Thanks for the review!
Supfan - Thank you!
scarletglory - Thank you for your kind review! I'm not one of these fanfic writer's who demand reviews, but the fact that you gave me at least one letting me know this story isn't crap, is kind enough. I very much appreciate the support. Thanks for giving such an honest and beautiful review. May good things come your way in life! ^_^
SilverWolf84 - Thank you! I enjoy making the Dixon boys uncomfortable.
Surplus Imagination - Kids and foreshadowing? Ack! Good heavens no! Not at all...the Lt. is mostly curious because of his sudden realization that he's kind of Annie's caregiver now.
avani2 - Aw! Thanks for the super kind review! I'm glad the first fanfiction for TWD you read wasn't bad for you. I'm honored that mine was your first (though admittedly there are much better fanfic's out there than this one, but that's my humble opinion). ^_^
Ms Q - Oh gosh, wouldn't I love to sit at the writer's table on TWD? Things would change and stuff would be awesome! I'm humbled you think I should work for them...your review was honestly a very sweet and wonderful thing to read. I appreciate the support and the kind words. I know OC's are hard to swallow, I feel the same way, sorry if they initially put you off, but I'm glad you enjoyed yourself while reading this silly fanfic of mine. May you have a great life, my friend! ^_^
Guys, sorry for the slow chapter this go around, I'm planting the seeds of plot...so...enjoy the slow pace while it lasts.
Chapter Fifty-One: Picocher
**Carol**
The sun was shooting streams of reddish-golden light through the thick woods of the forest beyond the wall, touching the church with flickers of flame and fire, as the early morning air cooled and the hot air of the muggy Georgian night condensed in thick patches of fog in the low lying areas of the convent lawns.
Sitting by the campfire, Carol calmly brushed her hand through Annie's hair, straightened the gnarls of licorice black locks so that she could braid it for the day.
Across the fire from her Grace and Sister Mary Elizabeth were setting a heavy cast iron kettle over the grill of the fire to heat water for the bath.
When Carol first arrived she thought the nuns keeping their guests regularly bathed and as clean as possible was an odd ritual, since they weren't guaranteed the well water would be endless, but she soon realized it was just their ways.
It may have had something to do with the whole 'cleanliness is next to godliness' theory or maybe they just liked to keep things as normal as possible.
Either way it wasn't her place to argue, they kept the entire group well fed and relatively happy within the convent walls and she wasn't about to make trouble over something so silly.
In her little corrugated plastic box/crib at Carol's side, Judith slept, drool bubbling out of her mouth as she moved it in her dream state, the little tent-like umbrella that had been set up to shield her from the sun fluttered on the breeze gently.
Expertly braiding Annie's hair, Carol touched a hand to the girl's head as she finished up giving her a broad grin as she jumped up.
"Thank you, Carol! Can I go play on the swing?"
"You're very welcome, sweetie," she returned. "And yes, but stay in sight, okay?"
The little girl nodded vigorously and calling to her dog, Annie hurried off to play on the swing attached to the walnut tree, chasing the dog there playfully.
Checking on Judith, Carol moved towards the fire and stoked it using the dried wood Sister Joan had gathered for them from the forest outside the wall.
They'd need to start thinking about gathering wood to dry for the winter months, who knew how long they'd need to stay at the convent and stockpiling on wood wasn't a bad idea, after all if they chopped the trees down the wood would need a few months to dry properly before it'd be any good to anyone.
Unless they could find a nearby farmer's stockpile of wood that they could take from.
She wasn't sure about it though.
Glancing over to where Annie was swinging idly with her dog and doll at her feet, Carol smiled. The sweet little thing was so docile at times like this, it was hard to believe she was the one who nearly tore the entire contents of the church apart with her bare hands just a few days ago.
Touching a hand to the wooden rose at her collar, Carol thought of Sophia. She could remember how her baby girl would play on the swings at the park near their home on the days when Ed would be at work and Carol would sneak out of the house with Sophia and they'd make a day of it, getting ice cream on their way home, stopping by the pond to feed the ducks.
Sophia was younger than Annie was then, but they still had the same energy, the same quiet, sweet manner about them.
"It's going to get hotter before the sun hits the midday mark," Father O'Rourke pointed out, easing down beside her with his rifle.
Carol's attention was brought back to the present and she offered the priest a kind smile. "I prefer my days to be warm, last night made it hard to get any sleep in with the heat."
"I sometimes miss air conditioning," Father O'Rourke said with an easy smile. "Not that I really should, but…small things."
"I think we all have small things we miss," she offered.
"The small things are sometimes the most under appreciated things in life, but you sure notice when they're gone, don't you?"
"Hm," she replied softly.
"Of course, there are those big things we miss too," he added.
"Like running water," she teased.
He laughed. "I was thinking more along the lines of family, friends, society as whole."
"To be honest," Carol began softly, "if it wasn't for the walkers and the threat of death from Woodbury, I wouldn't mind this new world. It's simpler, people actually notice each other, we genuinely care for one another."
"A sense of community is important to the development of the human race," the priest agreed. "We are born social animals, but through our experiences learn to shy away from showing our true emotions to others for fear of rejection. This sense of family we've settled upon in our darkest hour is true testament to the original plan I think God had intended for us. Of course, I can't say what drives Woodbury's head of state to the lengths I've heard he goes to, but…we all have our weaknesses."
Smiling at the man, Carol glanced beyond him, checking on Annie as the girl continued to swing with her dog and doll.
"I'm sorry if this conversation is making you uncomfortable," the priest said.
"Not at all," she returned.
"I just feel like we should be taking our minds off Woodbury and here I am bringing it up in casual conversation," he paused, "and I'm still going on about it. Sorry."
Carol beamed at him. "It's okay."
Grace came back with Sister Mary Claire, both holding onto the heavy, water filled kettle.
They carefully set it on the grill and stepped back, easing onto the log at Carol's side.
"I swear the air is going to be absolutely heavy with heat this afternoon," Grace said. "I do wish the others would get back soon," she added.
"They probably just had a hard time clearing the base," Carol said, not even daring to think of the other option for their tardiness.
"You're probably right, Carol," the woman agreed.
"How come you never go out with them, Carol?" Sister Mary Claire asked politely. "You seem capable of handling yourself."
"Someone needs to keep the home fires burning," Carol replied softly. She had never been bothered by performing what Andrea sneering referred to as the 'the feminine arts'. They all had their roles to play and being wife to the group was what it seemed she was good at. Someone had to cook and clean for the others and if it fell on her, she wasn't going to complain. Rick always thanked her for everything she did for him and the others never seemed to complain about her cooking skills, so she never felt affronted personally by her duty. It didn't hurt that Daryl gave her that soft, almost ungrateful look whenever she brought him a plate of food or a mended pair of pants (not that he let her at his clothes too much). Which reminded her that she needed to get him out of his pants for a more practical reason (other than the obvious), because the ones he was wearing were absolutely due for a good cleaning and mending…or maybe she'd just toss them and find another pair for him. Cut her losses, so to speak.
"I don't find shame at all in serving others," Grace agreed with Carol. "As long as they show gratitude…of course I wouldn't take any complaints about the way I did it."
Father O'Rourke beamed. "Is that a gentle hint, Grace?"
The woman chuckled. "Could be. Maybe you best watch yourself, Father."
Shouldering his rifle, the man nodded. "I can take the hint," he smiled warmly at them. "And I better get inside, I'm due for a nap." Placing his hand on Carol's shoulder, the priest looked down at her. "You do a fine job keeping our home fires burning, all of you."
"And what is it you think you do around here, Father?" Sister Mary Claire inquired almost innocently.
The man laughed. "Well, I make standing on a wall look good, though I doubt I could hit the broad side of a barn with this thing."
The three women laughed as he wandered off, heading for his rectory.
Turning her attention back on the others, Carol caught Grace touching her hand to her collarbone, her face far away for a moment as she watched the kettle on the grill.
"The others will probably be back by tomorrow, the day after at the latest," Carol offered.
The woman gave her a small smile. "Of course, I realize it may them some time to recover what they can."
Carol wasn't fooled, she knew the look the woman had. It was mild panic and horror and a touch of regret.
"I'd imagine if anything, they just found more than they could load up," she went on softly, reaching over and touching the woman's upper arm warmly. "I bet they'll bring back all sorts of goodies for us."
Grace beamed almost shyly. "Yes, we can only hope they don't expect us to wear military gear…I'm much too short to think fatigues would suit me."
Laughing with the woman, Carol angled herself to hold a better conversation with her. "I don't know. I've heard combat boots are quite comfortable to march in."
"Think they have combat boots in a size six and a half woman's?" Grace asked, sticking out her dainty little foot.
"If you wear thick socks, I think it might work," Carol replied.
"The pants make your hindquarters look good," Sister Mary Claire added. "At least you'll have that."
"How do you know the pants look good on your behind, Sister?" Grace asked playfully.
The nun flushed bright red. "I've heard things…"
"This isn't observational?" Grace inquired innocently, a devilish look in her eyes. "You didn't happen to notice the Lieutenant's rear end in his army fatigues?"
Carol couldn't help laughing as Sister Mary Claire's eyes widened.
"I would never—"
"It's alright, honey," Grace went on calmly. "Why don't you go and relieve Herschel off the front gate, Carol and I can take care of the kettle."
The poor nun hurried off, her cheeks pink.
"That was a terrible thing to do to the poor girl," Grace admitted after the two chuckled together.
"She'll recover, Mary Claire seems the resilient type."
"Hm, she's always been sensible as a young nun, the fact is I rely on her heavily now more than ever."
The women fell silent, watching the kettle, keeping an eye on Annie as she remained on the swing.
"That girl loves that swing, doesn't she?" Grace inquired.
"I think your Lieutenant came to the conclusion long before any of us that it would keep her occupied."
Smiling, Grace bowed her head a little to the hands she clasped in her lap. "Next he'll be building a tree house in my walnut tree and she'll come tumbling out on her crown."
"You don't really mind, do you?" Carol asked. "The things he does around here?"
Giving her a small, furtive glance, Grace shrugged. "I like to nag him about minor things," she admitted finally. "It seems appropriate given how much he thinks he can get away with around here."
"I honestly don't think he minds much at all," Carol said.
Grace laughed. "I know he doesn't mind, that ridiculous Cajun boy is all kinds of hell on a woman." Gasping, the woman realized the word she had let slip and touched her hand to her mouth. "Oh, did I say that word out loud?"
"I didn't hear anything," Carol said.
Falling silent, they both sighed at the world around them as it slowly heated up in the light of the sun.
"Have you ever given any thought to a life in this world without Daryl?" Grace asked.
Falling into a deep study of a hole in her pants at the knee, Carol realized that she not only needed to mend her own pants, but also that she thought about a world without Daryl more than she ever realized. "Some mornings," she began cautiously, "when I wake up and he's nowhere in sight – maybe he's out hunting or gone on a supply run – I sometimes think that maybe I'll never see him again. That something could happen and he'd just be…gone. Rick would come back, and I know that look he gets, I've seen it before, when there's someone missing from a run. When everyone gets excited when the group returns, I get a little sick to my stomach until I see him and know he made it back."
Grace was silent at her side, watching her dark hair falling into her serious, soft blue-green eyes. "I know how you feel, Carol," she said, taking Carol's hand between hers. "I understand exactly what you mean."
Gripping Grace's hands, Carol turned to her. "You love him, don't you?"
"I need him," she admitted quietly, low enough to keep the conversation between the two of them. "It's not a matter of lust or want, it's a need, like a fish needs the water."
"You should let him know," Carol said. "Life these days is short and nothing is ever certain."
"I may at some point give him a clue," Grace replied with a small, shy grin.
Carol smiled at the woman.
"But telling him outright will just give him one more reason to strut around here like the peacock he is."
"We can't have that," Carol agreed.
"No, his bloated ego might be the death of us all if we can't fit within the walls with it," Grace replied.
The two women laughed again at the idea of the Lieutenant strutting around pleased with himself.
As the laughter died and they regain their breath, Grace sighed. "I do feel bad about teasing Sister Mary Claire like that, though…"
The Cajun Dialect
Picocher – To tease.