The day progressed and Lyra had Carl do a couple batches on his own but she stayed close by to make sure he did it properly. Lyra was surprised on how fast Carl caught on, having only needing to be told mostly once.

They took breaks here and there. Lyra had to stop not only to fix her brace, but also to wrap Carl's fingers. Sometimes he's touch the melting pot accidentally, while other times he would pinch himself or handle still hot bullets. It was clear he hadn't being around any trades.

"Shit you're bad at this," Lyra smirked as she held Carl's hand under cool water.

"I bet you were bad when you started," he countered.

"I had all my fingers by the end of the day, if that's what you're getting at boy."

"Well I count ten still on mine, girl."

Lyra smirked.

"You're lack of right-sided perception will take some getting used to for sure. That may be why you're getting injured so much."

Carl touched the fresh gauze over his eye.

"It's a fucking pain."

Lyra snorted as she nodded to her knee. "Wanna switch?"

That shut Carl up.

The day changed to night at a slug slow pace. Lyra had explained that rations would probably come in next day and because there were now two mouths to keep fed – they'll be larger than previous.

"Negan would want to keep you nice and healthy probably," Lyra surmised, begrudgingly.

"Why?" Carl asked as he broke a stale biscuit.

"He has a lot of supplies but I doubt he'd want to anger your father anymore."

"Fuck that, I hope my dad tears him to pieces."

Lyra raised an eyebrow, sure the man was strong but she wasn't sure Rick could tear anyone to pieces. Also it was the teen's tone that caught her attention the most.

"I've seen him do it," Carl clarified seeing the apprentice's apprehensive stare. "He...he..."

Lyra watched him carefully, the faint felled expression didn't escape her sharp eyes for the brief second it had happened.

"He just did it," Carl finally finished before taking a rather large bit of the biscuit. Lyra watched as he turned slightly, knees slowly drawing closer and closer to his chest as his body took a defensive posture.

Lyra didn't say anything at first. She nibbled a bit on her own portion.

"You never did say how you lost your eye."

Carl swallowed. "It got shot out."

"I'm sorry," she said sombrely.

The teen didn't say a word. Instead he merely got up from his seat and got back to work.

XXXXXX

With Glenn's body they travelled back to the Alexandria Safe-Zone. The ride was a lot quieter as the adrenaline from the horrific night waned, replaced by a steady stream of guilt, despair and depression. Maggie was silent the entire way, absent-mindedly cradling and rubbing her belly. Everyone else was sitting in their own thoughts.

At the Zone they quietly returned to their places, disappearing. Michonnne had woken for a few minutes on the ride down but went unconscious.

It was night. Cloud blotted out the stars making the atmosphere more tense and ominous. Lamps were lit throughout the streets but Rick took no notice to the light. Even the stringed light above flickered once in a while but that too remained out of the leader's perception.

Michonne stirred as her eyes slowly opened. Rick straightened immediately and rose from his seat, hovering over his lover protectively.

"R...rick," the swordswoman moaned. Her body stiffened as movement returned to her limbs.

"Take it easy," the lover advised, "you have a major concussion."

Michonne closed her eyes as a strong pain pulsed through her head. A flash of Carl took her by surprise and her eyes sharpened as she looked Rick in the face. "Oh god...Carl...!"

She looked over at Rick who didn't hide his depressed and angered expression. Carefully she took the man in her arms and felt him pressed his face into her shoulder.

"Rick," she murmured gently.

The leader felt his body instinctively tense as her fingers trailed across his skin. However her touch soothed him in a way, despite what was going on. He intertwined his fingers with Michonne's as she continued to pet his hair.

"I'm sorry," he muttered once he found his voice. Rick closed his eyes feeling them water for the first time in a long time. "I'm so sorry."

"We'll get him back," Michonne said firmly.

"I messed up."

Michonne drew Rick in.

"You have a strong son Rick, you made him and taught him what he needs to survive. Carl has instinct."

"Carl is not alone."

The lover listened as Rick told him what Gregory and Jesus has spoke. She was quiet at first taking in what she had heard.

"Are you sure?"

Rick nodded. "They seem positive."

"...Lyra...I saw her go down in the forest Rick."

"She must've survived and got in the path of the Saviours."

"She would be a great tool for Negan and his thugs."

Rick nodded. Michonne looked at him knowing there was more, she stayed silent for a couple minutes and gave Rick's hand a comforting squeeze before soldiering on.

"What's going to happen with Alexandria?"

Rick shrugged. "We do need them...and they need us if they don't want to admit it. We're a part of this now, together."

"Gregory isn't going to like that statement."

The leader hung his head knowingly.

An excruciating week passed and Rick managed to get enough supplies scrounged for a double cache. Problem was that there was quite literally nothing left for the remaining Alexandrians. All had no problem expressing their intense dislike for having nothing to eat for a couple weeks over 'some kid'. Luckily Abraham was there to quell any oncoming fights.

Glenn's funeral was last night. Rick spoke well about the young man giving him credit for his life entirely. Maggie was there but didn't speak, still being in such shock that Rositta and Sasha stood close by just in case.

After the funeral, night had fallen. Rick made the rounds, more doors were slammed in his face then remaining open for his trying nice words. His last stop was Abraham and Rositta's place.

"Can I speak to Abraham for a minute please?"

Rositta didn't hide the slight annoyed expression. She knew that Rick was starting to rely more and more on Abraham, and while it was necessary especially with Daryl still in the medic bay. Rositta was starting to worry slightly that Abraham would accept a job that would get him killed.

"One minute," she answered bristling.

Rick knew he was hitting a chord with the young fierce woman so he nodded quickly. Abraham gave his girlfriend a quick peck on the cheek before stepping outside gently closing the door behind him.

"What's going on?" Abraham asked keeping his voice low.

Rick motioned him off the porch.

"Denise gave me an update on Daryl," the leader said, "he's going to be out for a little longer, the bullet did more damage than expected."

Abraham nodded however knew there was more.

"I'm sending Heath and Tobin out tomorrow to look for some supplies, I'd like you to go too."

"You want me to find where Carl is held, don't you?" Abraham said, being able to read between the lines.

Rick ran a hand through his hair as he gave a defeated nod. Looking back at the door, the ex-sergeant turned to his leader.

"That's fucked up Rick."

"I need you to d-."

"I ain't a hunter, I ain't Daryl. Don't get me wrong I'm worried 'bout your boy, but do this and there's a good chance you'll never see him again."

"I need something Abraham," Rick urged. "Even if it's a direction in where he's held, I don't fucking care!"

"What you need is to trust that you're son is capable of handling himself." Abraham saw a ghost of a dark expression past Rick's face, but he didn't give a shit. "You said that it's possible this Lyra chick is with him right? She knows shit, and will keep him safe."

Rick balled his fists.

"You don't know her."

"Well maybe not, but she's his only chance right now. You're trusting Tara, and she was with that fuck-up you told me about."

"This is different Abraham," Rick said lowly. "She wasn't a civilian, she was a prisoner."

XXXXXX

"That's more rations then I've gotten in months put together," Lyra commented with utmost seriousness.

Carl found himself a little surprised too as to how much they had received. He looked back at Dwight with a suspicious look in his eye as if suspecting the Saviour to just snatch it away suddenly. It would be a cruel trick – but not out of Negan's league.

"Go on boy," Dwight said, "take it or else you and your girlfriend can eat all this shit off the floor."

Trying hard not to blush, Carl allowed an aggressive expression dominate his face as he snatched the bag off the table.

Lyra had noticed that Dwight had a holstered wooden club wrapped in leather hanging from his belt. It was a new accessory that the apprentice knew was specifically for Carl. Whether the teen took notice or not, she took note that Negan was going to some lengths not to kill Carl. Why? How the fuck should she know? Usually Negan would just order an ironing on someone who was being disobedient. But being away from the Sanctuary, something else had to be done to get Carl's attention.

So long as they aren't killing him.

Without a word the Saviours left. Once gone, Lyra took the bag from Carl and headed back into the main shop.

"Bandages, tape, biscuits, meat and fresh fruits and vegetables," Lyra called out setting items on the table. "Damn boy, you must be some kind of lucky charm."

"Fuck luck," Carl said sending half of the food to the ground in one swoop of his arm.

"Hey!" Lyra jumped off the stool and started to pick up the thrown food. She glared at the teen who gladly returned.

"Why are you eating that?" he demanded.

"Because maybe I want to live!" Lyra snapped, "because I'm trying to live! You want to have a fucking pity-party and hunger strike fine by me but do it on your own fucking time!"

The anger started to slowly die out of Carl. He started to realize his anger never lasted as long as it had when he was back with his group. It was an odd feeling, one that he couldn't really explain, however he was never running out of glares.

"Why do you work for them?"

Lyra's scowl was so sharp that Carl felt like he was a child again getting a firm scowling from his parents.

"I don't work for them," Lyra said, her husky cracked voice pierced through the teen. "He's got me here just like you."

Carl opened his mouth ready to speak but immediately closed it.

"I've noticed that they've also added a new weapon," Lyra said, by Carl's expression she was right – the boy hadn't noticed. "A wooden club wrapped in leather specifically for you."

Carl tensed. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Means if you fuck up then you get hit, if you really make a mess you get beaten. Maybe not to death like your friend, but definitely within an inch of your life."

A violent image of Glenn's mangled corpse flashed in the teen's mind again, tormenting his thoughts as he remembered the gore drip off Lucille.

"It's a way to keep you in line," the apprentice added, "so don't fuck up."

Taking in a slight shaky breath, Carl managed to calm himself down before asking.

"So how does he make you stay in line?"

Lyra paused, her fingers drummed lightly against the table.

"With the iron."

Carl raised an eyebrow, he was about to inquire when Lyra interrupted him.

"If you aren't going to eat, then get to bed. It's being a long week."

Hesitantly, Carl walked over to the closet and started to take off his clothes. He changed into a loose top and thin material jogging pants before coming out. Lyra was waiting patiently for him to finish, once out she walked in without a word.

Carl realized that he may have said the wrong thing. But he also revealed something interesting, something new about his enemy – the iron. Whatever it was though it had seemingly scared Lyra into silence.

He looked over to see on the table was a biscuit and a couple crab apples. Carl wasn't hungry, actually he was – but he was trying hard to convince himself that he wasn't. Though it didn't help that his stomach growled in reminder.

"If you aren't eating that then I will."

Carl looked back to see Lyra dressed in her usual sleepwear of a shirt and pants too, her shirt however was sleeveless revealing the various size scars on her arms.

Carl hadn't being able to ask her about the scars on her arms. He knew about the one on her face because Patrick told him but other than that, the teen was completely in the dark. With himself on the other hand, it seemed like he couldn't shut up. It was slightly odd for the teen. Being around Lyra, Carl felt compelled to speak, to tell. It was only by sheer mental force that he managed to remain silent for so long, answering only Lyra asked.

Maybe because it was the fact that she truly didn't know him therefore what happened to Carl wouldn't really affect her or cause her to react in anyway. It felt like being in the presence of Remi all over again.

Carl shivered.

Remi wasn't real. She was a figment created off the memory of Lyra, the Lyra he knew from the prison.

The Lyra I wanted to know, his mind corrected.

Silently Carl nodded. This Lyra was definitely different, it wasn't just physically but he could tell it was also mental. Whatever happened between her and the Saviours obviously changed her. Plus the knee brace had to come from somewhere, it didn't just show up on her limb one morning.

"You going up or what?"

Carl looked back to see Lyra behind him munching on a crab apple she had left for him. She stopped half-way through a bite.

"What? You aren't having it, so I am."

Carl scamped up the ladder and crawled over to the farthest side of the makeshift bed.

The two had managed to lash a couple of wooden planks together, place a blanket down and called it a cot. Carl slept on it. It was uncomfortable the first couple of nights and the teen had tried to keep his tossing and turning to a minimum but it was impossible with the creaks and groans accompanying every motion. Lyra was inching to pick up the heaviest object and hurl it at Carl's head.

Once Lyra was on top she shot the apple core into the bin where it landed with a thud.

"Nice," Carl complimented.

"That's nothing compared to Cory."

"Who's Cory?"

Lyra fell silent. She gave a hard swallow before replying, "someone who I knew."

"Is it your dad?"

The apprentice paused. Without a word, she turned over. Carl started at her back for a few moments before turning towards the wall. He felt a pit in his stomach knowing that he had said something that irritated Lyra. He couldn't help it though...if they were going to work together he wanted to know more about her.

Carl felt an odd sensation that pulsed through his groin and he immediately blushed. Forcing himself to remain calm, he bit his lip and fell asleep.

XXXXXX

The next morning the two woke around the same time. Lyra going down first and into the 'bathroom', which was a basically a room with a bucket.

When Carl first saw it he immediately thought of having to go up the ladder to the second floor and throw it on the walkers.

"The Saviours do it," she corrected as if reading his mind.

Carl blinked unsure if any Saviour was capable of doing such a humiliating act.

"Yeah, we technically aren't allowed to go out, and Negan starts to bitch when it started to stink."

The teen found himself trying to stifle a laughter. Lyra joined.

"Heh, at least we can have the pleasure of watching the Saviours deal with our shit."

Carl laughed harder.

Once finished, Lyra walked out to see Carl standing waiting his own turn. The teen slipped in and closed the door letting out the held in breath. It was beginning to become a ritual for Carl, starting the morning off a bit nervous around the apprentice but eventually getting comfortable. However he did hope that the ritual would end.

The day continued as a usual slow pace. Each took turns between making batches. Carl was getting better to the point where Lyra was comfortable to let him be on his own. His lack of perception was the only thing that was holding him back, he wasn't used to relying so much on his left side.

"Best put you in better clothes," Lyra said as she tied the bag.

Carl scowled. "Why?"

"Because that's a double batch," she said tossing the last bag into the box. "You're going to see your dad."