Preparations for the coming attack continue with a surprising new assignment given out at the Council meeting as Rick reasserts himself.
An Unlived Life
I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible;
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.
~Dawna Markova
"Not here yet?" Aaron asked, coming out onto the porch of his house where Morgan sat on the steps calmly watching the people walk by in the early morning light, on their way to their assigned tasks preparing the Zone for an attack they feared would come any day now.
His gaze lingered a bit on Sasha and Father Gabriel as they walked past, the tough looking woman with the scoped rifle slung over her shoulder and the priest, in clerical black complete with white collar, seeming incongruous together. He watched as they met up with down the block with Carol and Daryl, another pair that he still had a hard time wrapping his head around, as they came out of the house they shared with Rick's family and the sword master.
"Ah." Aaron grinned, spotting the couple and then settling in on the step next to the other man. "On their way." When he still got no verbal response from Morgan he nudged him with his shoulder a little.
"Must be a story there." Morgan murmured quietly, staring at the lovely woman in the navy and burgundy paisley print sweater and dark wash boot cut jeans carrying a wicker basket covered with a tea towel.
By her side was the shaggy man in the motorcycle jacket and patched khakis, his crossbow slung over his left shoulder. They said their good mornings to the priest and sharpshooter and then continued on their way.
"We're all stories." Aaron replied, "We keep on living our lives. Adding new chapters."
"Until we don't." the pensive newcomer added.
"Well, they've just started a new one—together—and since I had a hand in turning that page I feel a bit protective of it—planted a seed and am enjoying watching it blossom." Aaron told him, a note of warning in his usually easy going voice.
"Not all blossom into fruit." Morgan zenned back at him.
Carol noticed the two men waiting for them on the porch, still about a half a block away, and she reached down her left hand and laced her fingers through Daryl's right, surprising him. He looked down at their hands, confused, and then seemed quietly pleased at the publically intimate gesture coming from her, a small smile curling up one side of his mouth.
They were meeting up with Morgan and Aaron to have a pre-meeting strategy session before the larger Council meeting later that afternoon. Their prior experience with the men who called themselves "Wolves" was the main qualification of the men, but Daryl wanted Carol there because of her unique ability to size up any situation and strategize all of the possible scenarios they could be facing.
Aaron knew that for whatever reason, Carol didn't yet feel comfortable with letting everyone in on her true role in their rescue from Terminus, but her abilities, coupled with Morgan's at defensive tactics were what Aaron and Eric believed would allow them to survive what was coming. They wanted an already well thought out plan to present to Deanna and the rest today as a fait accompli.
Meeting in secret with this smaller group early had been hard for Daryl—he was used to having Rick make all of the group's major decisions—but he knew they needed reasoned alternatives to anything the constable might come up with this time. Rick's behavior of late had been erratic, to say the least, and those who had known him the longest were more worried about his ability to keep it together than they'd been since they left the farm.
Carl and Enid were the next to meet up with Carol and Daryl on the street, and like them they were holding hands. Daryl and Carl exchanged a goofy embarrassed repressed nod of greeting while Carol and Enid smiled before continuing on their way.
"It's like watching baby bunnies and fawns in spring knocking about the meadow." Eric said from the open doorway behind them, "Twitter-pated."
Morgan grunted at the assessment, but had to agree. Dixon and the intriguing Mrs. Peletier were obviously still on the first blush of whatever...
Aaron stood up and turned to look at Eric with a frown, worried he was trying to walk without his crutches again. Eric had grown impatient with his lack of mobility, especially with the threat they were under, and had been pushing back against the six weeks off his ankle that Pete had recommended. Seeing that his partner was in fact using the crutches mollified him, but Aaron still moved to Eric's side, offering a shoulder or arm for stability.
Eric leaned on the door jamb instead, silently stating his independence. He'd hated being so reliant on others while he healed.
"Good morning!" Aaron said to the new arrivals, his smile only a tiny bit strained.
"Mornin! Daryl and I brought muffins for breakfast!" Carol announced brightly, smiling and swinging both the basket she carried and her hand linked with Daryl's a bit, making Aaron and Eric smirk.
"You wanna repeat that? I don't think the Andersons next block over heard you." Morgan said under his breath as Carol walked by him up the steps.
It had to be just a coincidence that the bottom of Daryl's bow just happened to bump hard against the back of Morgan's head as the Archer brushed past him.
Their plans met with some resistance from the larger group of the full Council, primarily because the original Zone residents couldn't envision anything that could take down their walls which had kept them safe for so long.
"A month or so ago I thought the same. Then a tank rolled through our fences." Maggie said, sharing a stoic look with Rick, Daryl and Michonne, who had all been there that day.
"They have big rigs—hauling around those semi-trailers they had the geeks inside." Aaron added. "One of them would make an excellent battering ram at our front gates."
"I've seen bullet proof glass taken out by a hand grenade." Daryl offered from his place standing between Aaron and Carol, side-eyeing her, "Few a' those mother f—" he paused, shifting his gaze to Deanna, afraid of offending her, "fudging things could take down these wall you're s' proud a' just as easy."
"Then what do you propose we do?" Deanna's voice was tight.
Daryl knew they were treading on dangerous ground. The leader's pride in her late husband's work on the fortifications was taking a bruising. They worked amazingly well at keeping out walkers, but live ones wanting to get in without permission were a different challenge.
"Hafta be able to shore up any breaches quick—almost immediately or we'll get overrun by both hostiles and the dead." Abraham grumbled from across the table, blowing out a hard sigh and narrowing his eyes in thought.
"What if we take the school bus and panel trucks and build on wall sections—like they did at Woodbury." Daryl suggested quietly, shuffling his feet a little.
All eyes turned to him; the tell-tale small eye wince and head duck as if he was expecting a blow giving away his discomfort with the scrutiny.
"Got a hole; plug it." Deanna nodded in approval, smiling at Daryl, "Good idea, Mr. Dixon."
Daryl nodded slightly then did his best to fade back into the woodwork. He felt like shit taking credit for Carol's idea, but that was the way she wanted it. He felt her hand fit itself to the small of his back, the small stroking motions telling him he'd done well and thanking him.
"I'll get my crew on it as soon as we're done here." Abe agreed with a small nod.
"We'll need triage." Maggie said, her tone regretful but forceful. "There will be people wounded, bitten—we need protocols in place."
"We need a doctor." Rick said, speaking for the first time in the meeting. He was calm today, back to and even keel, at least for the time being, and had been carefully observing the discussion and interactions in that lazy steel-eyed way he had. The irony of his statement caused many in the room to exchange a variety of amazed and can you believe this shit? looks.
Rick passively waited for the minor imbalance in the Force to settle before he continued to speak.
"Some of our people have medical training—Rosita and Maggie are certified in first aid and Sasha was a firefighter—not a paramedic unfortunately, but she has good triage skills." His gaze fell on Carol, ignoring her glare of warning. "And Maggie's father trained Carol as his assistant back at the prison."
Carol's hand fell away from its light contact with Daryl's back in agitation.
"Maggie's father was a physician?" Olivia asked, sounding impressed.
"A veterinarian—but he saved my son Carl's life when he was accidentally shot; saved Sasha and Glenn from the influenza outbreak—until Dr. S arrived he was our main medical expert." Rick explained.
"You want Carol in charge of triage?" Maggie asked, an edge to her voice that made Carol take a breath and look down at her hands clasped in front of her, willing them to stop trembling. "Deciding who we try to save or don't?"
"Just like she helped save your daddy when he got bit." Daryl reminded her, his tone warning and deadly, a whole argument playing out silently between those who knew what else she'd done at the prison. Daryl was telling Maggie to back off; Carol was uncertain as to why Rick was laying this on her doorstep and Michonne waited to see how it played out.
"Carol's got a cool head in a crisis; isn't afraid to make the hard decisions. We'll need that." Rick said coolly, nodding at her and then looking over at Deanna.
"Is this something you'd be willing to take on, Carol?" Deanna asked, curious as to why this was the first time she'd really heard that Carol was adept at more than baking. She'd suspected that there were unplumbed depths to the small woman, but this was an important skill set that shouldn't have been hidden.
"I'm...I'm not really very comfortable in a leadership position..." Carol protested demurely, frowning and biting her lip uncertainly, so convincing that Daryl had to remind himself that this was the person who'd single handedly taken down a nest of some of the sickest people they'd encountered since this cluster fuck all began.
"I would consider it a great personal favor." Deanna said, and then her voice dropped low, "You were there for me after...when Reg..." she paused, blinking rapidly and grimacing slightly before going on more forcefully, "I know you can do this, Carol."
"She can do it." Michonne agreed, raising an eyebrow, daring Carol to disagree.
Carol looked up at Daryl, seeming to draw strength and reassurance from him. She squared her shoulders, still looking at him and he quickly winked at her, making her narrow her eyes at him as her mouth curled up the tiniest fraction. He nodded at her and she sighed and her eyes moved to meet Deanna's and she gave her a chin tilt of acquiescence.
"I'll assign Rosita to you for now—we need Sasha more in the tower—you can coordinate with Maggie about gathering what you'll need for emergency med kits." Deanna said, already moving on to the next part of their plans.
"What the hell was that?" Carol monotoned to Rick without looking at him when he came to stand beside her just when Deanna ended the meeting. Daryl had been summoned across the room, drawn into a discussion of whether or not he and Aaron should take back up with them on their next run, and if so, who should it be, leaving her standing alone, silently trying to decide how she felt about her new task.
"Using our resources where they'll do the most good." Rick said quietly.
Carol shook her head from side to side, a barely noticeable motion if you weren't watching closely, but Rick was. When he wasn't wrapped up in his own shit, he was a trained observer. He'd been focused on her body language from the time she and Daryl had entered the room.
He'd noticed the subtle change in them: Daryl more at ease with having her close, but still vigilant, protective; Carol fighting the need to constantly touch him, when not with her hand, brushing his hip with hers, a slide or lean of a shoulder connecting them, as if reassuring herself that he was real, here beside her.
He knew Carol's weakness was those she loved and how to use that as leverage against her if he needed to; whom to use to keep her here and doing what he believed was best for the group.
"So you want me to Florence Nightingale it up if—when—we're attacked." Carol said, her voice cold and skeptical.
"No, I want you to grab an M-16 and start shooting the fuck out of the bad guys..." Rick said with a smirk and a shrug. "...figured this was a compromise you'd go for to keep your secret identity."
"And when I make a choice maybe you or Deanna doesn't agree with?" Carol asked him, finally turning to look at him, her eyes challenging him, "What then?"
"If you haven't noticed, I haven't exactly been making the best choices..." Rick said self-deprecatingly; adding in a low voice as he passed behind her to walk away, "Far be it for me to refuse to let go of the past."
Carol bristled but held herself in check, refusing to give Rick the satisfaction of seeing her react. She looked over at Daryl who was deep in discussion with Aaron, Eric, Deanna and Maggie, and felt proud of him again for stepping up, smiling as she thought of how much he'd changed since the quarry camp: going from kid to man in these last two years of living in hell.
"Hey Carol." A gentle young voice and a hand on her arm drew her out of her thoughts and Carol looked up and into the warm brown eyes of another man who had come into his own since those first days in Atlanta.
"Glenn!" Carol cried happily, pulling him into a big hug, trying to be careful of his wounded shoulder.
"Sorry to interrupt your soulful stare-age." Glenn gave a little laugh at her enthusiastic greeting, and then whispered, "I'm happy for you." into her ear.
Carol's cheeks pinkened a bit and she released him with a light swat to his healthy shoulder.
"How's Tara? I was going to stop and see you both on my way to..."and then Carol faltered. She'd been going to say on her way to the pantry where she and Olivia had been working on the plan to divide up their supplies in several smaller protected basement caches so in case one was destroyed they'd have reserves. In addition it would create several safe houses where small groups could hold out in case of a siege by walkers or others.
"On your way?" Glenn asked when she didn't continue her thought.
"I just got a new work assignment—I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do next." Carol admitted. She should head over to the clinic and get started on those tasks; looking around for Olivia to make sure the somewhat tentative woman was ready to take the lead on the pantry project.
Jessie was also assigned to the pantry, but they had been cutting her some slack in light of recent events, trying to give her time with her boys, both of whom were acting out in different ways. Ron had become a full-fledged silently seething teenager, staying locked in his room unless forced to come out, and Sam had been going walk about, showing up at the various work crew sites unexpectedly. Carol was worried about him, but didn't want to insert herself in between the boy and his mother, who was not at all receptive to Carol's presence in his life.
"Carol?" Olivia came up to them, looking a bit worried.
"I'll let you go." Glenn said, giving her arm another reassuring squeeze, "We'll catch up later, right?"
"Of course." Carol replied warmly.
"He's looking better." Olivia said as Glenn headed over to his wife's side where he got an enthusiastic reception from the others standing with her, including Daryl, who had been furious when he'd heard what that "fuck boy," as he called Nicholas, had done to Glenn.
"The young bounce back quickly." Carol said. Her visible bruising might have faded, but the residual aches from every one of her injuries from being mowed down in Atlanta less than a month ago would be with her a long time.
"Hell hon—I knew Rick had been shot, but Carl too? And Maggie's father—he really was bit and lived? Aaron said a twister nearly took you all out right before he introduced himself—from what I hear it pretty much sounds like your whole group has nine lives—"
"Not all of us." Carol said as the faces of all those they'd lost on their relentless quest for survival vied for a place in her mind.
"Of course—I...I'm sorry—you just lost Noah—that was thoughtless of me—I can imagine how that must feel." Olivia stammered, looking remorseful.
"Never mind." Carol said dismissively. It was useless to try to explain the depth of their losses. "I hope you'll never understand what I'm feeling."
Olivia was sensitive enough to take the double-edged comment for what it was and after saying she'd see Carol later at the pantry, she turned and retreated.
"They're like children, aren't they?" Morgan said from beside her, making Carol turn towards him. "Sheltered here; thinking they were just going about their lives as if nothing had changed."
"When everything has." Carol nodded in agreement, having already made the same assessment of the group.
"Yours?" Morgan asked, wondering if she'd give him anything; any insight into what she'd lived through.
"I'm a woman of mystery, remember?" Carol cocked her head at him.
"And him?" Morgan drew her gaze to Daryl, whose attention was focused on something Aaron was saying, nodding along with him.
"No mystery to that." Carol said, a small smile playing along her lips as she watched Daryl scowl in disagreement with whatever Deanna was arguing for.
Morgan raised an eyebrow at her.
"I love him." Carol said softly.
AN: Thanks to my lovely constant readers. For those asking for updates on this, now that the semester is over I should have more time to write more on all of my stories.