Note: Probably just one more chapter after this. Thanks so much for taking this journey with me. Good or bad, feedback is always appreciated.
Part IX
You're Not the Good Guys
"We knew we were almost there, then we came over that ridge and heard gunfire. Lots and lots of automatics."
"That 'as probably us gettin' captured. They shot at our feet to herd us where they wanted us to go."
"We didn't know what the hell it was, but being that it was coming from a place of supposed sanctuary, we knew it couldn't be good. The shots also drew that herd. We finally snuck up on the cabin over there."
She shook her head to calm the bile rising within her.
"I wish I could explain the pure unadulterated rage I felt when I overheard that asshole with the walkie talking about 'the chick with the sword' and getting the hat after they 'bleed the kid out.' So I knew they had Michonne and Carl, at least. I mean, on one hand I was happy to learn that they got out of the prison alive, but clearly they were in a lot of trouble."
Daryl pointed to the cabin. "So you sprang into ninja mode."
"Believe it or not, I don't have a plan for every contingency. Had to come up with one—fast."
She continued on toward the fence line. "I left Tyreese in charge of Judith and asshole, and went to scope out the situation."
At the fence, she reexperienced all of the sights, sounds and scents of that fateful day.
"There were a lot of them, blocking my view. Some kind of smoke bombs or something, too. I could see they had Rick and Glenn face down on the pavement. I could tell there was at least one more, too, but I couldn't tell who."
"Me and Bob."
She nodded. "The only thing I could think to do was just create as much chaos and disruption as possible. If they had to deal with that, it might give you guys the opening you needed, or maybe I could slip in undetected. That herd provided the perfect cover. I cut the fence for the herd, blew up the gas tank, and the rest is history."
"Man, we was on the choppin' block. Glenn was next, then me. All of the sudden, there was this explosion. We didn't know what the hell was goin' on. Your plan worked perfect. The guys started arguin' with each other and Rick got free, killed 'em. 'They got problems,' he said. 'We got a chance.'"
"I went in as a walker. When I walked into that warehouse, it was the most horrific thing I'd ever seen. Table after table of people's personal belongings—innocent people's personal belongings. Even baby stuff. I found Rick's watch. Then I found the crossbow. I wanted to vomit. I knew they had you, too."
They both stared through the fence at Terminus, lost in their individual thoughts. On the surface, this place shouldn't be as traumatic for them as some of the others; after all, no one in the family had died here. But just below that surface, it was plain that they had indeed suffered profound losses in this place-they had lost pieces of themselves. And those fragments of self were just as irreplaceable.
Daryl took her hand and led to the spot where the family had regrouped after fleeing Terminus. He would never ever forget the moment when, in the depths of despair, he looked up and saw her standing there across the meadow. Pain, weariness, misery—these things all gave way in an instant to pure unfettered joy and relief. That was the moment when he knew he was in love with her.
He had run to her—literally, run to her. His embrace was so strong and tight he lifted her off her feet. And when it was over, he embraced her again. And again. He just couldn't stop touching her, as each touch was tactile affirmation that she was here, and she was alive. And come hell or high water, he was never going to lose sight of her again. Until he did.
As the days had gone by, he'd realized that although she was physically present, emotionally she seemed lost to him. When he found her out by that car in the night, clearly about to bolt, the fear that gripped his heart nearly overwhelmed him. Now, more than a year later, he still hadn't figured out how to pull her back to him. It was as if, unable to escape physically, she had become someone else in order to escape psychologically. They just continued to grow farther and farther apart. Of course, then she did escape physically.
He understood much better now why she felt the need to flee—it was as difficult for her to live in her own skin as it was for him to live in his. Somehow this trip had to make that task easier, had to help them realize that they could be okay. And it seemed to be working. He'd seen more of the real Carol in these last few days than he'd seen in the previous twelve months.
For Carol, this place represented something a little different. She peered through the trees at first, watching the others gather themselves. She knew that she had to show herself; Sasha needed to know her brother was alive and Rick needed to know that his daughter was alive. But she had no idea how she would be received. What if they all viewed her actions the same way that Rick had? Would she be welcomed? Or rejected? To her, they were still her family and she missed them and wanted to be with them. Especially Daryl. Even if all of the others hated her, she could deal with that as long as Daryl didn't hate her. But ultimately, the problem was that she hated herself. Maybe Rick had been right to banish her, maybe she shouldn't be around others. After all, what kind of person kills a child?
And there he was. Daryl. Running to her and scooping her into his arms. It was a moment that she hoped would never end, and she smiled from ear to ear. God, how she'd missed him. He just kept touching her, as if making certain he wasn't dreaming.
Then Rick had embraced her, and seemed genuinely happy to see her. Oh, sure, it was likely that it was at least in part because she had just saved all of their asses, but still it felt good to be accepted. Rick had never looked back after that, and treated her from that point on with respect and affection. Indeed, when they'd first arrived at Alexandria, she and Daryl were the only ones Rick trusted enough to confide in regarding his concerns. Somehow, though, the banishment still weighed on her and hurt her heart.
She never again quite felt like she belonged with them. She loved them, but she felt if they knew who she really had become she would be rejected and exiled again. She no longer trusted the family with her deepest fears. And maybe exile was what she deserved. Maybe she didn't have the right to be around others.
She noticed after Terminus that Daryl seemed to be trying to help her in his own Daryl way, and attempting to pull her closer, but she purposely distanced herself. She was so conflicted that she knew she wasn't able to be what he needed.
So she put on airs. She developed different Carols for different scenarios. To the people already living in Alexandria, she was the sweet lady who did laundry and baked cookies and had no idea into which end of the gun to put the bullets.
To the family, she was a badass rifle-toting protector who could be relied upon to do the dirty work.
To Daryl…well, she wasn't sure what she was to Daryl. He accepted her no matter which persona she projected, but he made it clear that he was uncomfortable with the phoniness. You look ridiculous. That was one of the most wonderful things about him—he was simply incapable of being anything other than exactly who he was.
It was difficult for her to maintain the helpless housewife façade around him. Yet another reason for the distance she put between them.
Daryl was always going to be Daryl, no matter what, and she admired him for it.
Had he changed? Certainly. But not to misrepresent himself. His change was the natural progression of human growth and maturation. He was clearly emotionally stunted, likely the result of whatever abuses he had endured at the hands of his father, but he was always trying to learn better coping mechanisms. And he had been largely successful. He no longer lashed out at those closest to him. Case in point, when he learned she left Alexandria he didn't withdraw, he didn't lash out, no, instead he sought her out and calmly asked her why. And he didn't even try to hide the fact that he was hurt by it. The Daryl of their first months together would have menacingly shouted, thrown things and pretended he didn't want her around anyway.
She couldn't put her finger on exactly when she'd fallen in love with him; she suspected it was somewhere between the farm and the prison. By the time they'd moved into the cellblock, she was well aware of her feelings for him. And she knew that he adored her. They always just seemed to "get" each other on a very fundamental level. There was complete, unconditional acceptance and understanding between the two of them. But it wasn't until that night in that little house by the cemetery that she realized he loved her just as much as she loved him.
The irony of it all nearly made her laugh out loud. Only in this topsy-turvy world would someone telling you a lie indicate that he was in love with you. But Daryl's lie had done just that. He wanted desperately to win the upcoming war against the Saviors. He knew of her cunning and prowess. He knew that she would be a great asset in that war. And yet when faced with the opportunity to recruit her, he chose to put her needs ahead of his own. Even though she had abandoned him and hurt him profoundly.
"Make camp here tonight?" Daryl's voice broke through her thoughts. "Or at that cabin?"
Carol glanced around, assessing the situation. The storm left the ground saturated. Much of the water had been absorbed now, but dampness remained. They wouldn't be able to build a fire. On the other hand, the weather was calm now, and the temperature was comfortable.
"Here," she said. "This place means something to both of us."
"Okay. I'm gonna go to the cabin, though, and look for dry shit to burn. Hopin' I don't gotta go there.." He pointed toward Terminus. "…to find somethin'."
Carol nodded. In his absence, she spread out the bedrolls and strung up the trip wire. She cleared out a shallow pit just in case he did actually find something flammable. She was just beginning to become concerned when Daryl finally reappeared with several wooden planks.
"Next time you're gonna be late getting home from work, you pick up the phone!" she teased. "I was just about to call the police."
He decided to play along as he arranged the planks in the pit. "Sorry, Snookums. Got caught in traffic."
After dinner, they relaxed by the fire. Carol sat cross-legged on her bedroll while Daryl lay on his side, head propped by his left elbow.
"After I lost Beth, I was alone," he began. "I just sat down in the middle of the road. Couldn't go forward, couldn't go back. I was jus'…I dunno…lost. Every single person I knew was gone."
Carol flashed back to her exile and knew exactly what he meant.
"I got in with these guys, rough guys. I knew they were bad, but I didn't know how bad. I didn't trust 'em, but I didn't want to be alone. They beat their own guy to death right in front of me. Shoulda been my first clue. They started talkin' about how they were huntin' some prick that killed one of their guys. I knew I didn't wanna hang with them, so I hung back, was gonna ditch 'em. Turns out it was Rick they was huntin'. When they caught up to them, they made it real clear what they was gonna do to Carl and Michonne. But we fought 'em and we won. Rick was pretty brutal. Can't blame him though. I woulda too if they were doin' to my kid what they were tryin' to do to Carl."
Carol's heart hurt at the thought of what Daryl was implying. Carl had experienced far more in his short life than anyone should have to endure in a lifetime. It was amazing that the kid wasn't more screwed up than he was.
"The whole thing…it was just one more thing, you know? The Governor, Beth gettin' kidnapped, Joe and his crew, then Terminus…really took away whatever faith in humans I had. And Beth had just convinced me that there was still good people in the world."
"And then to have Beth die so senselessly at that hospital," Carol nodded in understanding.
"I know it was an accident. That cop, she didn't mean to kill Beth. But I shot her and it didn't feel wrong," he gave Carol a pointed stare. "Maybe it shoulda?"
"She could have just let us go," Carol reminded him. "But she had to insist on Noah staying. Like she owned him or something. She wasn't innocent."
"When I killed before, it was self defense—or mercy. But that one, that was revenge." He wished he had the words to explain his fear that killing Dawn had changed something within him on a very basic level. "It's like I went to a dark place, and I was just startin' to climb out of it when I came on Dwight and Sherry in the forest. They knocked me out, tied me up…but it was a misunderstandin'. So I let it go. I could killed 'em in revenge, but I didn't. I actually helped save them from the Saviors. Helped 'em bury Sherry's sister when the walker bit her."
He paused to gather his thoughts.
"I shoulda killed him. But I was weak."
"No," Carol told him, "you weren't weak. In this particular case, yeah, hindsight says you should've killed him. But you couldn't know that then. Your compassion and empathy are some of your best qualities. Please don't ever lose that."
"How can you say that?! After everything he's done?" Daryl asked angrily.
"Because not everyone we come across is Dwight. Or Joe. Or the Governor. Sometimes we meet good people. What if you guys had killed Michonne on sight?"
"That's totally different," Daryl seethed. "Michonne hadn't done nothin' to us. Dwight had."
"Okay," she conceded, "maybe not the best example. What about Jesus? He picked Rick's pocket, stole a truckload of food and turned out to be a pretty good guy. It's good that you and Rick didn't kill him."
"I didn't kill Dwight, and Denise died. I didn't kill the Governor and Hershel died. I didn't listen to Rick when he wanted to go back and kill everyone at Terminus, and Bob was taken. They ate his leg right in front of him."
"But it's not so black and white, Daryl," Carol insisted. "Did you know about Morgan and the Wolf?"
"Morgan and what?"
"When the Wolves attacked, Morgan captured one who was injured. Kept him prisoner in his basement. When I found out about it, I went ballistic. I was gonna kill him, but Morgan stopped me, knocked me out."
"Naw, I did not know that. If I knew Morgan hurt you, he'd be dead right now."
"The point is," Carol pressed forward, "that the man escaped while the whole town was overrun by walkers. He took Denise hostage. They were out in the street when I woke up, and I shot him. Just wounded him, though. He could've gotten away. But he went back to save Denise from the walkers. And he was killed by those walkers. So maybe he wasn't all bad after all."
"No. The point is, those walkers woulda never been in Alexandria in the first place if him and his goons didn't crash the truck into the wall. It weakened the wall and the horn drew the herd. He was the reason Denise was in danger in the first place. And what about all the other people that fucker killed for no reason at all?"
He softened his tone, afraid of being misinterpreted. "Yeah. There were plenty that we spared that turned out to be good people. Sasha, Tyreese, Michonne, Bob, Tara, Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, Aaron, Jesus, plenty more I'm sure, but none of them started out by hurtin' one of us."
"Tara was with the Governor."
"Glenn said he checked her gun and the mag was full. She never fired a shot. I ain't trying to be a bastard, here," he gently placed a hand on her arm. "We was always taught our whole lives that killin' someone is wrong. And maybe that was true in the old world. But in this world, it ain't always wrong to kill. Sometimes it's just what you gotta do."
He rolled over onto his back, staring into the starry sky.
"I should shut up. I don't have no answers. I spared Dwight, and Denise died. I tried to kill Negan, and Glenn died. Sometimes no matter what I do, it's wrong."
Carol couldn't deny that he was right. Despite the best of intentions, things had a way of going terribly awry.
"You asked me what they did to Maggie and me when they captured us," she said quietly.
"You said they didn't do nothin'."
"And that's the truth. But still I had to kill them. One of them told us 'you're not the good guys here.' And she was right. We'd just slaughtered a whole lot of their men. Had another one down. They were acting in self defense. And still they didn't hurt us. We would've never been captured if we hadn't gone there to kill them." The moral ambiguity of the family's actions that night still haunted her.
Daryl sat up and moved closer to her. "They'd already attacked us—twice. And Hilltop, too. We had every reason to think they'd do it again."
"It was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. And then we sat there and you told me that you regretted not taking a life, and it sickened me. Even though I knew you were right. It sickened me that our existence has come to that…that, in the end, Dale was right. We lost our humanity somewhere along the way. I know I did."
"I killed sick people. I killed children. I've fed people to walkers. I've burned people alive. How do you even begin to come back from that?" Her eyes welled with unshed tears, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "I have so much blood on my hands."
She closed her eyes, as though trying to block it all. But it was no use. "Even the ones I didn't kill, I still wronged. Sam? I terrorized that child. A scared, abused eight year old, and I terrorized him. He caught me stealing guns from the armory when we first came to Alexandria. I needed him to keep quiet so no one would find out what you and Rick and I were up to. I told him that if he told anyone, I would feed him to the monsters and they would tear him apart and eat him while he was still alive. And guess how he died."
"Sam? Jessie's kid? He was with his mom and Rick when he died."
"They were wearing walker blood so they could pass through the herd. Rick had it under control. The walkers didn't see them. But Sam panicked and started yelling. And they ate him alive. And his mother. And his brother freaked out and cost Carl his eye. What if he panicked because while he was surrounded by the monsters, he remembered what I told him?"
"You can't do that to yourself. Don't."
"I needed an out. A way that I could keep up the charade and not have to face who I really am. That's why I pulled away from everyone…from you. And I used Tobin."
Daryl winced. "Yeah, I wasn't gonna ask 'bout that."
She shook her head dismissively. "It was nothing. That's why I could do it. Because it meant nothing. He was safe because he doesn't have a clue who I am, or who I was. Until the Wolves came to town, he still thought I was 'naïve cookie lady who tragically lost her doting husband and doesn't know how to take care of herself'. I just keep finding new ways to hurt people."
"Maybe," Daryl offered, "instead a hidin' who you are, you should try bein' who you are. 'Cause there ain't nothin' wrong with her. I don't need 'Kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out' badass, and I don't need Crazy Cookie Lady."
His eyes locked on hers.
"I just need Carol."
...TBC