As everyone bustled back to their business, and after the caravan left the prison gates, Carol headed back to the yard to set about the laundry. She found cleaning clothes by scrubbing on the washboard therapeutic.
Even though it left her hands chapped and sore, she enjoyed being able to work through the washing outside in the relative quiet. They would have to move indoors once the weather changed from autumn to winter. She gathered up a sheet of bedding and submerged it in the lukewarm water. They heated it just a fraction to ensure materials got cleaned properly so she added detergent.
Washing was done in a large steel barrel atop four wooden slates and due to her height, she had to stand on another plank to effectively set about the task. The sun was warm, pleasantly so, the sky mostly blue with a few clouds casually drifting by. Although nights were colder, in general the days still held their summery edge. After fifteen minutes of scrubbing she wished she'd grabbed her cowboy hat and worn a tank. She could have worked on the tan on her arms and shoulders out here.
Swatting bugs away, she went to peg her first clean sheet on the washing line that Tyresse had put up for her. As always, she observed the layout of the yard and the dining area Glenn had designed and helped build.
Never one to become complacent, she often passed the time by thinking up ideas to improve their living arrangements or facilities. Not that she was stupid, they were holed up in an abandoned prison during the likely end of civilisation, with little power, and no government or laws in place to live by.
At any moment, some crazed psychopath or undesirable group of reprobates could happen upon their equilibrium and bring it crashing down. Still, they could try to live as comfortably and as best they could until it was no longer possible, either due to enemies living or dead.
At that moment she heard the moans and reached for the binoculars she carried around. Across at the far side of the prison, the Walkers were piling up, putting strain on the outer fences. As she watched, several in the front row were crushed against the metal rungs and the blood started flowing. "Dammit." She muttered to herself.
"What?" Rick's voice came from behind and startled her. The binoculars almost slipped from her hands.
"Down there, by the outer fence, they're piling up again. Not sure if the supports we put up last week are gonna hold" She nudged him with her elbow and went to hand him the binoculars.
"Hang on." He said and at that moment, Carol noticed he had a bottle of bourbon tucked under his arm as he attempted to set it on the ground. He swayed slightly as the bottle was placed at his feet.
"Where did you get that?!" She asked quietly, but with a dangerous tone. Rick knew he was going to get reprimanded.
"Hey, my wife died – I thought I was free of nagging." He laughed as he looked through the eyepiece. "Yep, they're certainly stacking up there." He observed blithely as he handed the binoculars back.
Carol grabbed them and set them down before she choked him with the strap. "How much have you had? For Christ sake, Rick, you have responsibilities to your son. Your daughter.""Jeez. Ok Lori." He snickered, picking up the bottle, unscrewing the lid and taking a swig. "You sound just like her."
Carol rubbed her face and studied him. "I get it Rick, I do. When I lost Sophia, I honestly thought I might as well be dead too. Considered just laying down and letting the dead have me. But then I decided to be strong and live on for her. I was so weak and scared while she was alive, I wasted so much time setting her the wrong example of how a woman should be that now, I will be damned if I'm gonna let her memory down by being the victim ever again. You loved Lori, I know that. She knew that. But all of this isn't gonna bring her back and it sure as hell isn't how she'd want you to be. She'd chew your ass off for this if she were here. And you know it."
Rick sighed, "I shut her out, I thought I hated her and she never got to know I did still love her before…before…"
Carol grabbed Rick by the arm and directed him over the deserted eating area so that he could sit out of the sun on one of the salvaged benches they'd sourced. They sat side by side on the bench with a table behind them and Carol could still here the groans from the weaken fence area. She sat in silence for a moment. They had all tried to bring Rick round. He'd even told Hershel that he was seeing visions of his dead wife and had been speaking to their dead friends on a dead telephone line. This could be beyond anyone's expertise. She opened her mouth to try again but he cut her off.
"Sophia knew you loved her; she knew she was the most important thing in the world to you. You know she never doubted that, you never gave her cause to. It was different for Lori. She thought, she thought I detested her." He put his hands to his face and pressed his fingers to his eyes.
Carol relented slightly. "Drinking isn't gonna do any good. No one ever solved their problems that way." She rubbed his arm. "Where did you find that anyway?"
Rick rolled the bottle from one hand to the other. "It was wedged down the side of one of the desks in the administration building." He placed it on the ground between is cowboy boots. "I know it isn't the answer but I can't switch off from my own head. I can't forget, I've tried spending time with the kids and everybody else. I've tried keeping busy, tried building and going on runs. My mind just goes back there, constantly. I rejected her the last time she tried to reach out to me. How am I ever going to make peace with that?"
Carol took a deep breath. "If I had the answer to that, I'd bottle it and you could drink it instead of that stuff. I honestly don't know how to help you. If I could take it all away for you, I would. Any of us would, Rick. We're all worried about you. Taking off alone into the woods. Anything could happen. Your daughter needs her daddy. Carl needs to see you coping. Kids are resilient but he's been through a lot. We need to plan and be ready for whatever storm comes next, because there will be one. You can't just be a farmer, Rick."
Rick sighed heavily and hung his head. The he reached for the bottle again and took a deep swig. "Everything you say makes sense and I'd be saying the same thing to any one of you guys. I know I would." He nodded to himself and drank again.
Starting to feel a little panicked, Carol wondered if she should go get Hershel, knowing he might be better equipped to deal with alcohol related problems. She'd never been much of a drinker and the smell of bourbon reminded her of Ed along with a lot of painful incidents. Rick stood and swung one leg over the bench so that he sat astride it as if he was on a horse. He drank from the open bottle again and looked around.
"All of this," he gestured with the bottle. "We built it together. Wasn't just me. We did it as a family. You don't need me to be making all the decisions. You and the council are more than capable of running the show."
"Rick, you don't get to just check out! We do need you. We all need you to work with us to keep building this place up. The survivors of Woodbury need to see you leading. We're bound to take in new people and you're smart, and brave, you're a natural leader. You need to take your place at the head of the council so that we can discuss taking things forward without letting our guard down! This is just self pity. Lori did know you loved her, she discussed the situation a thousand times with me. She was sorry for everything that happened, but she knew you'd be strong enough to raise your baby without her if the worst happened."
Rick stood and studied her while swaying slightly. He then attempted to put the cap on his bottle.
"Did you eat breakfast?" She asked. He shook his head with a wobble. She sighed. "Drinking on an empty stomach – are you a frat boy now?" She stood. "C'mon. I think you need to sleep this off. Give me that damn bottle." She grabbed the bourbon and slammed it on the picnic table. "C'mon. Lean on me."
Rick flung an arm around her slender shoulders. "I'm fine." He slurred. "I'm fine.""I'm pretty sure everyone knows you're not." She grimaced as she tied to progress as smoothly as possible through the courtyard door, across the main atrium and along to Rick's cell.
Once there, she helped manoeuvre him onto his bed. "Better take these off." She crouched down and lifted his right leg up to remove his boot and then his left. He watched her while she did it.
"You got tan," he observed. "Suits you."
Carol set his battered cowboy boots under the sink in his cell. "Gee thanks." She said sarcastically, still a little mad. "Now, you get some rest, a good sleep might help you feel better. I'll go get a water jug to put by your bed. You're probably going to wake up with a mouth as dry as a camel's foot." She turned to leave but he reached up to get a hold of her wrist.
"You take care of everybody, Carol. I watched you, all winter on the road, you'd have gone without to give to others. Make sure you don't forget to put yourself first sometimes. I don't know what most of us here would do without you. A lot of the ideas and improvements were your ideas. Daryl told me."
Carol smiled. "It's all a team effort but we can't wait to have you back in the driving seat."Rick stood and opened his arms for a hug. "I'm sorry you had to deal with me like this. I'm an ass."
She leaned into him and placed her arms around his waist as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He buried his head in her neck she a tear on the skin of her collarbone. They stood like that for a few moments. She gingerly patted his back, feeling the hug was lingering. The smell of the liquor and Rick's intoxication made fingers of anxiousness grasp her insides. Too many bad memories of times past.
He raised his head from her and said again, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be putting this on you. You've been through enough."
Carol smiled and felt her own eyes fill up at his evident pain. "Oh Rick," she wiped away a tear from his left cheek with her hand. "Stop saying sorry. There's nothing to apologise for. We just need to help you through it."
He nodded and looked at her mouth for a moment. He put a hand to her neck and leaned in to kiss her.
"Woah!" She stepped backwards out of his arms, pushing him off at the same time. "What the hell are you doing?"
Rick raised his hands, "I'm sorry, Carol, I'm so sorry. I-I-I didn't know what I was thinking. Please, I'm so sorry." He moved toward her again and she inched back another step.
"It's ok." She caught his eye. "You're not yourself and you're crazy with grief. We all make stupid choices at times like this. Let's forget it. You lay down and sleep." She gestured to the door, eager to leave. "I'll go finish my laundry now."
As she slipped past him, he rubbed his eyes with his hand. "Carol, wait…."
"I told you, forget it!" She called back over her shoulder as she practically ran back to the yard.
Rick threw himself down and punched the base of the bunk above him. "Goddamitt!!" He put his hand to his head as outside his room he heard Ty shout a greeting to Carol which went ignored.
Ty popped his head through the sheet at the door of the cell. "Everything ok in here, Chief?"
"No, it's not!" Rick drawled, a slur in his voice. Ty backed up, feeling he entering was in dangerous territory and retreated. "And I ain't your fucking Chief!!" roared Rick, pulling his thin pillow out from under himself and placing it over his face.