maskormenacelogs | This burden weighs so heavily

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This burden weighs so heavily

WHO: Daryl, Carl, Andrea
WHERE: Carl's Place
WHEN: Evening of the 1st of August
WHAT: Telling Andrea she's dead
WARNINGS: Language

Daryl made sure the pizza was there before Andrea was. Two boxes, pepperoni. A quickly made staple of his diet in this new world. And one he'd probably make himself sick of eventually. Along with the pizza were bottles of water and an unopened bottle of Southern Comfort. In case Andrea needed it. Daryl would probably end up having some, too.

When she arrived, he was at the door before a second knock could be given. He'd been waiting behind it, pacing. Probably driving Carl crazy with all the moving around.

"Hey." He gave a nod and stepped to the side, holding the door open so she could come in. Food and drinks waiting on the coffee table.

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That Daryl couldn't tell her this over the phone was enough for Andrea to know it was bad. Carl wanted to be here for it. It was going to be terrible, and she was pretty sure she knew what they were going to tell her. She hadn't asked either of them outright about her fate, and maybe she could have used her power, but she wouldn't. Not on them.

The Governor must have gotten to her before Rick had seen her. What he did to her, she didn't know. But she was about to find out.

"Hey."

Stepping inside with a little nod at Daryl, Andrea took a deep breath and looked over the array of food and drinks. She gave Carl the same little nod, with a small smile. Would it be better to eat first? Or indulge later as a means of comfort?

Carl was sitting on the couch staring into space, listening to Daryl's pacing. Everyone's got their quirks, but Carl was about to ask Daryl to settle down when Andrea comes in. Carl turns and stiffens at the sight of her, back straighten.

He hopes this will turn out okay. But he knows it won't.

"Hey. You hungry? We got some stuff."

She hadn't been sure if she'd want to eat right now, but the aroma of fresh, hot pizza is calling to her. Plus, having a few slices might be a better way to ease into all of this, for all of them. She looked at Daryl for a moment, then back to Carl.

"I can't seem to get enough of pizza lately," she smiled a little. "I'd love some." She wasn't hungry, per se, she never really experienced hunger anymore, but that didn't mean she avoided the foods she loved entirely.

Daryl shut the door behind her, locked it out of habit. Then followed her in to the couch and opened a box for her as he sat down. Grabbed one of the waters to hand over.

"Yeah, we been having a lot of it, too. Get it in now 'fore we ain't able to have no more."

Carl, on the other hand, doesn't feel that hungry as he swipes a water bottle for himself. He merely tears at the label with anxious idleness with his uneven fingernails.

"At least a lot of restaurants like to give imPorts a discount. Occasionally an hundred percent discount in some places." Boy, Carl ate lobster for the first time because of that and it was great.

Look at yourself a voice rebukes Carl. Talking to a dead woman about food when you didn't even tell her she's dead.

He looks down at his hands and stills them. He desperately wants to get this over with, but it seems cruel to rush it to Andrea. But he also doesn't know how to approach the topic either.

"You've heard about Dad, right?"

Well, there's that subject.

She nods in thanks for the water, standing near both of them but trying to decide if she wants to sit or keep standing. Sipping at her water, Andrea listens to Carl speak about restaurant discounts, and despite knowing she's here to discuss something deeply upsetting, she appreciates just how normal that is for a moment. Well, as normal as anything can get here. Restaurants, discounts, things none of them have had for so long. She can't help smiling a little, but that smile fades when Rick is mentioned.

"Daryl told me. I'm sorry, Carl. Are you...okay?"

He takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a gentle whoosh. He leans back against the couch.

"No." Honesty is the best policy. "But it's just one of the things you learn to deal, when it comes to this place." Meaning this world. It's no different than this world, in a way. Death takes you when you least expect it, and it's no different with dePortations. "The only thing you can hope for is that if he does come back, he keeps the memories he has of this place."

Daryl's mouth turned down in a deeper frown at Carl's words. Because even coming back with the memories of this place didn't mean they'd keep them. Rick's week-long change in demeanor had freaked him out royally and he'd only really gotten settled from it (nearly a month later) when Rick ported out.

He glanced up at Andrea for a second, then scooted over to make (more) room for her. He wasn't sure if she was standing because she wanted to be or because she didn't want to squeeze on the couch. If it was the latter, Daryl could at least make sure she wasn't squeezing when she sat down. If it was the former, well, scooting closer to Carl wasn't going to kill him.

"Ain't the first time Rick's been gone. But the last time he was, was right before I got here."

They've all seen some of the worst things imaginable with each other, been through hell and back, and into hell again. There's nothing they couldn't really be honest with each other about, she likes to think, and Carl's honesty in response to her question is a welcome affirmation of that. How could he be okay? His father's gone. Just as unsettling is hearing that he could come back and not remember this place.

She does finally take a seat when Daryl shifts, feeling more and more sure of her place with the two of them.

It's not her style to offer false platitudes simply to comfort, and Carl's not likely to appreciate it, either. They all know the odds, and if Rick comes back, then it's a great thing, but there are no guarantees.

"We'll just stick close, the way Rick would want." She knows Daryl feels the same, based on their previous conversation, but it's worth reiterating. "We'll do what he would do." So in some capacity, at least, he's still here with them.

It'd been so long for him, for all of them, since they'd had Andrea as part of the group - really part of it. To hear her say that hurt. Not because it wasn't true. That was how they honored those that had left them. Try to live as they'd have wanted everyone to. But because they hadn't had a lot of time to figure out how to live the way she'd have wanted them to before they said goodbye. Go after the Governor, sure, but that had ended poorly because Daryl had given up the search long before Michonne had.

The guilt was just as heavy now as it had been when he saw that man standing in front of a tank, holding Hershel hostage.

"Yeah," he grunted, keeping his head down, picking at the label on his water bottle. He was quiet for a time. Not really ready to deal with this, but knowing he needed to. I fell to him with Rick gone and he couldn't shirk his duty to the group.

With a loud intake of breath, Daryl leaned forward and let his hands drop between his knees. He straightened his back, forcing his shoulders down, and let his gaze drift to the far side of the room before it fell to the carpet.

"You didn't... you didn't make it. I'm sorry."

Carl's heart stopped, and he looked up at Andrea. His face was grim, ready for any kind of reaction - grief, anger, bewilderment - whatever the stages one goes through when they discover they are dead in their world.

"Everything you did . . . it didn't happen in vain," he said slowly. The Governor survived and returned to their home, yes, and all of the Woodbury residents ultimately died . . . but for a while, there was peace, and it was hard-earned. "Everyone came together, in the end."

She feels like her heart's been cracked open with one swift motion and a few devastating words. She'd suspected this for a while now, with some of the looks both Daryl and Carl had been giving her. She'd easily dismissed her thoughts, opting instead to believe they were simply glad to see her after a long separation.

It's all very clear now, and it's devastating. Her expression shifts quickly, her eyes closing tightly as this sinks in. She grips her water tighter, then takes a few sips, letting it hold back the bile rising in her throat. The Governor had gotten to her before Rick ever saw her. That was the end of it. Carl's words are a comfort, though, and she's silent as she lifts her eyes to look over at him, but there's gratitude there. Something good came out of her death, and that's the best she could hope for given the circumstances.

"I shouldn't be here," she murmurs quietly, her voice sounding like it's miles away from her as she focuses her eyes on the ground again. It's not that she doesn't realize people can be here alive and still be dead where they come from. It's more that knowing her fate now makes her feel like her presence here is something strange and unnatural. Maybe the dead can come alive here, maybe something beyond her understanding allows it, but it doesn't mean she should be here. Is it harder on them, she wonders? Knowing that her presence here doesn't matter in the end, is it harder for Carl and Daryl? To have a friend return from the dead, only to know that it won't last.

"None of us should be here," Daryl countered. He knew she was saying it cause she was dead, or would be after she got back. But he was trying to deflect those thoughts a bit. Being purposely obtuse in a way that was easy for him when he didn't want to face something. He hadn't practiced it in a while, but it was still familiar.

Carl just looks wretched. Half the time Carl feels like a ghost here, like he shouldn't belong here either.

"But we are here. Nothing we can do about that. So we do what we always do. We stay together. No matter what."

Carl is Rick's son, true in his words, even as he grows more into his mother's image everyday.

She hadn't been with Daryl long enough to know him as well as the others, but there are things he says and does that are so distinctly him, what she remembers of him from those early days and the time they did all have together.

None of us should be here.

He's right, and she could have predicted that from him. Almost. Anything familiar now feels like a tether to a life she's half gone from now. Then there's Carl; his words so much like Rick, so grown. She may have a few weeks here, or even a few years. She's upset with herself, for her choices, and the grief about her own death will manifest itself slowly in time, but she's most certainly not the type to wallow. She has a purpose here, she has her people again for a little while. That's enough.

Smiling faintly, she nods.

"I don't know how long I have here. How long any of us have here, but we'll make the most of it. We should."

She had died trying to save them, she knows that. She remembers that last day, those last moments when she'd seen Rick and hoped she'd made it to him. She'd made the right choice, in the end, and she's at peace with that.

"Sure," Daryl agreed, sounding more like he was just agreeing to agree. He wasn't dead back home the way she was. And he didn't see this world as a second chance or a real opportunity for something more. Their world, craphole that it was, that was his place to start over. To be something more than he had been. The rules of the world that was, they didn't matter. Just the rules they made now, how they chose to live, to love, to fight for each other. Carve out a place they could have it better even when things were shit in so many ways.

But here... here was good for Andrea. For Carl, even. Give them a chance to have something 'normal' again. They needed it. So he shook his head a little more firmly and sucked in a breath, took a drink of water and leaned over to grab one of the pizza boxes. Held it out for her, "Come on, we didn't get this just for us to make ourselves sick again. You gotta help out, too."

She had been taken in by the normalcy of Woodbury, that had been her first mistake. But she'd also been at a crossroads, stuck between choosing sides. There's no such gray area here, no vacillating between one side or the other, no doubts. She has her people, some of them anyway, and she's going to enjoy the normalcy while she can. With a healthy amount of caution, too, because there's a lot about this place that...doesn't exactly beget complacency.

Pizza is normal, though. A good normal. She smirks and takes a big slice, biting into it and humming. When she swallows, she says, "Pizza was definitely a good choice."

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This burden weighs so heavily

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