Carl x OC (not a self-insert, I solemnly swear). This OC is a more outspoken version of the OC I've written in Playing For Keeps, so there may be overlapping personality traits, if you came from that fic to this one...
Because there's not enough Carl fics, that's why I wrote this... I think. Extreme AU. Soul-mate fic. Richonne happens not in the first few chapters, btw.
Disclaimer: Not mine, Kirkman/AMC/Rightful owner(s), not me, have copyrights to anything recognizable and everything concerning TWD.
*edited as of Nov 3, 2017. Established a more easily understood timeline (I guess pre-writing really does help! I've cooked up a really AU plot for a Walking Dead fic), and I made this AU's world setting more cohesive now.
Please, please read! Full Summary: Sweetwater
*Based loosely on the Out of Africa II theory... two hominid branches survive, not only Homo sapiens. Zombies/Walkers are much more intelligent in this version, and there's complicated mumbo jumbo science-y explanations that may or may not make sense.
*Rated upper T for mild sexual descriptions, serious themes, and violence. If you want to read rated R scenes, PM me, and I'll send them to you.
*Written in past-tense, hovers between limited 3rd person to omniscient pov, jumpy time jumps to the present and to the past, and scenes leading up to the present.
*Family/friend drama, mysterious disappearances, and an unwilling adventurer. Carl/OC ages 17/16.
A different take on the origins of The Walking Dead... Don't go to the ocean shores, don't go into the caves, and for the love of Life, please, don't you ever go out alone at night. They're dangerous monsters. Trust me, you don't want to ever meet one of... them.
I honestly don't know why I wrote this. I read through it a few times, so if they're any errors, let me know^^
Enjoy!
Chapter 1:
Apodictic [ap-uh-dik-tik]
adj.
1. Demonstrated, absolute truth.
2. Unquestionable logic.
Present Day.
His body shot upward.
"Carl!" her hands shook, but she didn't stop herself from reaching for him. He would never hurt her. He had proved that too many times.
He cried out and felt helpless misery overtake his mind. His muscles rippled uncontrollably, causing his fingers to bend against his will.
She gently pushed him back. His felt himself swimming in a plush cushion. His hands jolted upward in a flailing manner.
She caught his hands within hers.
After a moment of heavily consuming her scent through his flared nostrils, he was unable to fight against his nature and dropped his face into her neck.
She held their twisted hands in her lap. He wouldn't hurt her, she knew that, but it didn't stop the split second of panic from filling her veins.
He screwed up his face, eyelids crushed together in an effort to shut out the world. 'Too much, too much,' he thought to himself, 'Kenna...'
"Kenna," he breathed out her name reverently. She was the only thing in this world that kept him sane.
Her fingers shook. The smell of her flesh under his nose had him captivated. He nestled closer, if that was possible. "I... I—I thought-"
"I know," he squeezed her hands, speaking into her neck.
"You were, gone," she stuttered. Her eyes prickled with tears, and he could taste it in the air. He held in a growl and lent back, far enough to examine her red face.
"Dead," she gasped. The word had jumped off her tongue and felt wrong, oh, so wrong, to say to him.
He wrestled a hand free to wipe under her delicate cheeks. Tears streamed steadily, as if they could wash away the smatterings of freckles on her cheeks.
"They told me you were," her heart sank as the tip of the word hung on her tongue.
"No," he bent his head down and gently pressed his lips to her forehead. The tense lines smoothed under his touch, curly baby hairs tickled his skin. "I'm here, honey, I'm alive."
She sniffled, "You're alive," a small relieved smile emphasized the purple smudges under her eyes, but her heart fluttered whenever he called her honey. "You're alive."
*/*
9 months ago.
"They emerged out of caves, they were washed ashore by the currents and the winds. We thought they were dead bodies rising... Are they groups of our people that branched off thousands of years ago?" Hershel ignored the group of boys chattering in the back of the classroom. "Perhaps they're mermaids?"
The large group of fourteen to sixteen year olds laughed. After all, mermaids were made-up—they were fake, a fairytale adults told to traumatize kids. Who in their right mind wanted to swim?
"They," Hershel cleared his throat, "Have an affinity toward water. Salt water. Throughout time, we have found evidence of our ancestors settlements growing smaller and smaller..."
He continued his lesson, "It has long been understand that they were capturing us. Our warriors fought them for thousands of seasons, only to disappear themselves. Our people moved inland. They stayed near the shores with the undrinkable water."
"My mom makes me gargle saltwater," Sasha muttered to Kenna, "-had to walk to the village line to fill a pitcher three times last week..."
Hershel tsked, his ears still sharp despite his deeply wrinkled face. He raised a bushy white brow, "Who told your mother to use saltwater?"
Sasha, shrugged a shoulder in a casual swaying movement.
Her brother, seated on her right, spoke to their teacher, "What's better than water to cure a sore throat?"
"Honey?"
Both Sasha and Tyreese twisted in their seats, dark brown eyes locked onto Kenna's.
"Water is something we can't live without-"
"Honey isn't going to save you," Sasha finished for the boy. "Not from thirst."
"Honeyed water, is what I meant," Kenna kicked Sasha's seat, which happened to be a maple tree stump. The rough grooves of the dark bark slid unevenly under her leather sole. "We live next to a stream. Why not put salt in your water, instead of going to the edge of the woods?"
"I think it's her way of telling me I need to lose weight."
"The point," Hershel interjected, "... of today's lesson is to lead up to why we call ourselves 'The Living.'"
"Because, we're not dead?" someone from the group of boys chortled.
Kenna rolled her eyes at the idiotic response. When Hershel's gaze found hers, he asked for her to answer. "Because we can't live by drinking saltwater. Somehow they can."
"And they should be dead... if, if they were like us," Hershel stated. "They live near the ocean. It's understood that their branch of humanity evolved differently than ours, when our people emerged out of our first homeland. Unfortunately, it seems they've always had a taste for human flesh."
A few children whimpered at the thought of their skin being carved and knives unpeeling and unpackaging their body's layers, and their flesh torn into by hungry hands.
"—I wonder if we taste like chicken to them."
"—What. Is. Wrong. With. You?"
"Now," Hershel began, "Those curious fools who choose to go to the ocean and wet their feet, or have a picnic at a cave near the shore..." Hershel's eyes glazed over, "They never come back."
The class broke out in chatter.
"-The Living can't live with The Dead, don't know why our ancestors wanted to..."
"I had a cousin once."
"They eat us, why'd your cousin go to them?"
"He didn't."
*/*
2 months before present day.
She couldn't run away from this anymore. His mouth tasted like fire, a musk of woodsy smoke that tempted her again and again.
His hands clawed into her hair, forcing her head to tilt back. Neck bared for him, her breath stuttered. "Shhh," he soothed, leaving open mouthed kisses on her throat. "I won't ever hurt you."
Her fingers loosened on his shoulders.
His lips made their way over the curve of her jaw and up the swell of her cheek. He kissed away her tears and felt her tremble within his arms.
His fingers messaged her scalp, soothing out the tangles of her ink black hair. She hummed a low sound of approval. A smile grew until his cheeks ached. It had taken the leaves to fall and frost to coat the earth for her to finally accept this—accept him.
She drew him closer to her, and he slotted a leg between hers. They both gasped, savoring the warmth between their entwined bodies. He wanted to consume her and destroy the innate part of her that feared his touch.
Their lips met in a crushing kiss.
It almost hurt to want someone this much, it was almost too good to be true, and in the end all they wanted was to fall apart together. She wanted him—all of him—even the parts of him that left her breathless and shaking from nerves.
The world around them melted away. There was no cave, no rushing sounds of the ocean waves. All they knew were the red heat in their cheeks and warm calloused palms roaming over newly exposed skin.
*/*
9 months before present day.
They sat in a circle, pairs of feet exposed to the heat of bright flames burning on logs.
Kenna stuffed a deliciously charred piece of meat into her mouth.
"How about you, Kenny?"
"Eh," she mouthed around the slice of fowl.
"Dare—?" Brows jumped high up a forehead.
Kenna swallowed hard. Tears flooded her eyes and her throat convulsed around the thick chunk of food she tried to dislodge.
Noah patted her upper back with his hand swiftly swiping through the air behind her.
"!" She coughed, twisting her spine away from her friend.
Sasha laughed as Kenna crept closer to her and away from Noah. "You big baby," she teased. She affectionately swung her arm over Kenna's shoulders.
"I almost died, and you're laughing."
Sasha's belly throbbed as warm laughter rumbled through her. Kenna rolled her eyes at her childhood friend. They've known each other since before birth and no argument has ruined their friendship over the course of their lives.
"I said truth," Kenna answered Lori, this time without a mouthful of food.
"I heard you say dare, if my ears weren't mistaken," Glenn scratched his hairless chin in a highly exaggerated show of contemplation.
"No, no," Kenna insisted, "You need to wash out your ears."
"Let's vote on it!" Sasha jeered, her dark brown eyes sparkled in the firelight. Noah high-fived her over Kenna's head. Sasha cheekily pointed to herself, "Who heard her say 'dare?'"
Her index finger pointed to Noah. He supplied a snarky, "Dare, it was definitely dare."
Kenna shook off Sasha's arm from her shoulders and turned to confront Noah. His eyes were closed, as he sipped his hot peppermint tea.
Without warning she flicked his forehead.
He spluttered nearly dropping the cup, "You made me bite my lip!" he pushed her. Flying with the momentum, Kenna's head knocked into Sasha's boney shoulder.
Sasha pointed to Glenn, petting Kenna's hair with her other hand.
Glenn's raven hair swayed with his head shake, "Sorry, Kenna. I heard you say dare."
Noah nodded, "Me too."
"You did not," Kenna glared, her head throbbing. "You're supposed to be my friend, my brother from another mother." She flicked his forehead again, "Tell them I said truth!"
He swatted her accusing hand from his face, "Stop doing that!"
She retaliated by grabbing onto his waving limb. "Say it—or I'll tell everyone why you and Patrick were-"
"Okay," he yelped, "Okay!"
Kenna released him, and Sasha began to pester about the specific incident concerning the lanky redheaded boy and Noah. The darker skinned boy was currently pinching Kenna's leg. It was her turn to yelp and whack him away from her. If she exposed a secret between himself, Patrick, and a village elder with a club leg, Glenn could never hold a secret. Noah furrowed his brows at the thought of Glenn going on his routine routes around the village. Oh no, Noah couldn't let Kenna speak.
Lori quietly watched all of their little interactions and bristled, slightly hurt Sasha hadn't asked for her vote. "You said dare."
"'C'mon, Kenna, you always choose truth," Noah rolled his eyes. She rubbed the spot on her arm where he had pushed and prodded her. He saw this and widened his eyes, perfecting the innocent look with a slight pout.
"You have to admit that's kind of lame," Sasha badgered her dark haired friend.
"And boring," Lori said, stoking the fire with a long stick. "Don't be annoying. Choose dare."
"Fine," Kenna relented. A heavy sigh deflated her lungs.
"I dare you," Lori tilted her head, staring at Kenna. She squirmed under the attention and tucked a lock of curly black hair behind an ear. "...I dare you to sleep overnight in a cave by the shore."
Jaws dropped.
Kenna's heart raced in her chest. She feared her ribcage would crack from the rattling of her beating heart and her quick shallow breaths. "Do you want me to die?"
"An Old Wives tale don't mean a thing," she waved off the question. Sasha gaped at Lori.
Noah, horrified by her words, sprayed out his mouthful of hot tea, the fluid spilled down his front.
"How can you say that?" Glenn scoffed, "You think The Dead aren't a real threat?"
"How many people have disappeared from our village? Three... Five?" Lori asked everyone. "We're the Lucky Ones, we haven't seen the likes of them in ages."
"My cousin was taken," Kenna's cheeks burned and it wasn't because of the fire. Beyond the muddy brown depths of her eyes, a growing disdain festered. The loss of her cousin was sudden, same as all the others, but it still hurt to think of him as gone, forever. It hurt even more to realize how forgettable her cousin was to their people.
"Yeah, but..." Lori felt awful for stating the obvious, but she was often times the only one willing to be blunt, "That was years ago. Not a disappearance since."
"He didn't disappear. He was taken." Kenna's rapid breaths came out as puffs of white smoke. "I'm not doing it—I'm not going."
"We made rules for a reason," Lori rolled her eyes. "I'll be nice and say you don't have to spend the night... only go to the entrance of a cave and come back. Maybe pick up a seashell. We'll watch you from the edge of the woods, if you're that scared."
"No way. The woods aren't that close, and it'll be too dark to see you. Don't do it, Kenna," Noah shook his head feverishly. His cup of tea laid on its side, forgotten on the ground next to his leg.
"We'll be right there! If something did happen—"
"I'm not going," Kenna interjected.
"You have to follow the rules!"
"I'm not going to die because of a dare."
"What about our village rules?" Glenn's voice of concern was unheard over Lori's never ending verbal assault on Kenna.
"You won't die, stop being dramatic."
"Lori..." Sasha warned with a severe stare. "This is a little too... serious. If she doesn't want to do it, we can't make her."
Lori threw her hands up in the air, "What?! When I didn't want to take something from Negan's house—I still did it! I can't unhear the things I heard! I saw a pasty white ass and now I can't look at the man without blushing! Kenna," she gave the girl a harsh frown, "We all do things we don't want to do. It's your turn."
"My cousin..." Kenna gulped, "I don't think he would've wanted me to go there."
"Maybe," Lori arched a brow, "Or maybe he'd want you to look for him—to find him."
"Lori!" Noah gasped.
Glenn wrapped his blanket tighter around his shoulders in hopes of shielding himself.
"He's gone," Kenna brushed away Sasha's attempts to hug her. "We know, he's dead."
Glenn couldn't recall why they invited Lori to their late night fire-chats. She was the oldest in their odd group, with forehead wrinkles to prove it, but she was the one without a filter to her mouth.
He quietly watched Kenna's dark hair fall in unruly curly curtains around her face. Her tanned skin made her difficult to see, even in the firelight, but he could still see the sadness clouding her face. 'Her cousin would've been made into bone broth by now.'
"I'll bring my bow, and we all have our knives on us, anyway," Lori looked around at her... friends. "Nothing will happen. You can even tell your kids about this, one day."
Sooooo...? Please review.