The two pocket candles were unhelpful. Eileen sat for what could have been hours squinting at the dentistry books in front of her. Overall they were tedious. Naturally, the science was fascinating, but after a while the pictures were repetitive, and she almost dosed off reading about the history of dentistry. At points, graphic pictures came up, but too tired to react, her face remained stony and her eyes fluttered sleepily.

She had not had to keep watch for two years, she approximated. Not since she bolted back then. The bit that always worried her was that leaving her family was not even a tough decision. She was worried that it meant she was insane but the reality was that it was the best choice she could make for herself. And she was blessed to have made it this long. She wasn't a heroine. She wasn't always brave. Eileen just taught herself as many skills as possible from reading and from memory. She was a developing survivor, not a born one. And the loneliness that followed her departure was not bad either. She was very much satisfied to be left in peace.

Now, she was stuck in a dentist's with some sixteen year-old, pathetically dim-witted, yet remarkably brave boy whom she was wholly unaware of. And despite such, she had it in her to risk her life without though in order to save him. The truth is, the niceness of her actions was fairly normal. The most peculiar thing was that she was certain she most probably didn't like Carl. She knew that she would have to have more than have a five minute disagreement with him in order to determine the status of their acquaintanceship. So why would she go after him?

Eileen was fine on her own before, so it wasn't out of want for company. She didn't hold romantic feelings for him and couldn't ever imagine doing so. There was no way she would need help: she simply refused to need help. Her efforts were fine as it was, and to get help, especially from a lunatic such as him, would be out of the question and unnecessary. There was nothing Carl had that she needed or wanted: even so, she would not have engaged in anything to try and get it. She supposed, that their similarity of age created an unspoken companionship, or pact. Eileen empathized with him just for being the same age so it was natural to try and save him as in the normal world, there could have been an opportunity for friendship. She suspected that she was trying to salvage companionship that wasn't even there. It aggravated her. Furthermore, she also presumed that if this was the case, it explained why Carl tried to save her as well, so the feeling must have been mutual.

These musings were the result of boredom following her giving-up on the books. She sat facing the wall in the opposite corner of the room to Carl, lazily throwing her knife at it. It wasn't a risky action; the moans of zombies died down ages ago. The ringing sound of the impact, a cartoon like noise, sounded every time the knife hit the wall. She would then rip the knife out, and throw it again. Her excellent aim came from much practice. With no one to converse with, she had plenty of time to do so. Now she had Carl, a regretful decision to have made but she held out hope for it eventually being a good choice. She could tolerate one person, couldn't she?

The metallic noise of the knife made Carl stir. Eileen, blissfully unaware she had woken him, carried on her eyes dropping closed every now and again.

Carl was livid. Did she forget he was here? Or did she just delight in waking him up to the sounds of a knife causing him panic? I was enjoying that sleep. She doesn't even know or care! It's about time she woke me up to switch watches anyway.

He groggily said to her: "Thanks for waking me up like that. It's really reassuring."

She continued to throw the knife. "I didn't try to wake you up. You can sleep longer for all I care."

"How do you expect me to sleep while you do that?"

"I don't expect you to. You make that choice." She rethought her words. "I'm sorry I woke you. I'll stop-"

"-Nah, it's fine. I gotta take a watch at some point."

After that, they switched roles. Eileen had fallen asleep in a twisted position, face up on the floor. Carl noticed with extreme curiosity before passing it off as a quirk.

He occupied his few hours uneventfully. It mostly consisted of sitting there concerned about his dad. He was nervous about setting off to find him in the morning. He had no doubt that he had was looking for him. He also knew that he would be with Michonne, Sasha and...Eugene, so he would have help and will have taken shelter or something. He'd try again though. He knew it. He hoped it.

The relationship paradigm between Carl and his dad was interesting. Through his youngest years, he had been a role model. A fantastically heroic sheriff who saved lives and had guns and weapons. He was caring and mindful of others. Rick was still like that: it had just gotten slightly more dangerous and real. It had all been romanticized until the apocalypse.

After a decade of living, a new figure in Carl's life was made more prominent. That man was Shane. And for a while he was the embodiment of coolness to him. Shane, his dad's bad-ass sheriff buddy who Carl began to see more and more often. Shane easily met the role of a slightly rebellious, entertaining uncle, despite there being no blood relation. Unlike his father, Shane was more relaxed about things and encouraged some healthy misbehavior. Dinner with Shane was always good and well looked forward to by Carl.

When the epidemic hit there was some role reversal that occurred. Carl was blind at his young age. He was foolish. He was naive about the love affair his mother had engaged in with Shane when his father was all for dead as far as he knew. He felt a little sickened at the thought of his mother cold-heartedly moving on so quickly. Of course, at the time he didn't know. At the time, Shane a permanent addition to his original Atlanta group, was merely a close family friend who ensured Carl was prepared and encouraged him to be brave in this fought time. And after a while, Carl began to change his mind about it all.

His father, Rick, was no longer as interesting as he thought. Shane was much better. Rick constantly put himself at risk. Lori was his beautiful mother, abandoned by her husband a large amount of the time. Carl had the nerve to feel sorry for his mother. At the time, her disapproval of his having a gun had angered him, but he grew accustomed to what she said, until he was finally permitted one.

Shane, in his young eyes, was a daring, and courageous person. In time though, the madness within him was reflected and finally announced itself when he tried to murder Rick out of spite and jealousy regarding Lori. Once again, his father's undying loyalty to his family prevailed and he resumed his role as the father figure that had temporarily wavered.

Carl clung to the idea that Rick was loyal. He WOULD be searching for him. He just had to be patient. Sadly, there was a little part of him that knew Rick made sacrifices in order to protect his group. So maybe he had all but decided against searching for him to save resources and time. The former hope was a more preferable thought to Carl.

The baby was news to Carl. He hadn't even had the privilege of finding out in the beginning. No- Carl Grimes, future brother of said child found out by accident. He didn't doubt that his mother would tell him, but he did worry that perhaps if Shane had said nothing he wouldn't have been notified until a bump appeared. Then, Carl was oblivious to how this could even happen and then was concerned with being a good brother. When he looks at his sister now, he can't help but consider that it may not even be completely his sister. Maybe she shares DNA with Shane- a monster.

Shane had taught Carl many things, but he could never forgive him for his poor contributions and involvement in the protection of his family.

The only question left to be answered now was whether he wished to keep Eileen with him. She was a grouchy, proud and decidedly shady person. Arguably however, she had kind intentions. She offered him water. She didn't kill him, and she came after him. Besides these gestures, she was a bit inconsiderate when she spoke. Carl supposed this was a mechanism of self-protection she'd developed for living out in this world.

Do I like her? Not completely. She's not very friendly. The water was great and she came to find me, but she could be nicer in words. I have to find my Dad tomorrow. Maybe she'll try helping. I think it would be best to leave her. She doesn't seem like someone who is interested in someone else's problems. She hasn't got the time. Funnily enough though, she didn't have a group so surely she would be willingly to join me? She might be frustrating to spend a lot of time with. She reads; so she's probably smart as suspected. Maybe she has more great qualities that are yet to be discovered. Hm. I don't know. I'll have to improvise in the morning.


Michonne's Narrative

We spent the night sleeping out in a corner shop in Carl's direction. It was no wonder he would have chosen to go this way as the shop was filled to the brim with dry goods and tins. There was even a water vending machine. It was miraculous to say the least. I began to grow suspicious of Carl's activity when we all had to unlock the door, but ignored this peculiar feature.

I took the second watch, after Sasha.

Rick was furious. He had been since we set off in this direction. He said nothing, but it was in his eyes. Though his fury was not directed at his son, but rather himself. He refused to eat anything we'd found, and hid away in the shaded aisle of the shop, grunting and whimpering. Hours before, when we had commenced a casual search for the boy, Rick had been shouting for him to come out from hiding, yet there was nothing. And then, a giant heard of walkers came distracting us all together. We kept in a small house until they passed and then made our way to the corner shop.

"Rick," I tried. "Rick listen, you need to eat." He said nothing, but stared blankly at the bag of chips I tried to offer him. "You cannot beat yourself up about this. This is not your fault. You're blinded by fear. If you trust your son, you would snap out of this. Don't starve yourself. It's just sad."

Any efforts to to comfort him, or bring him out of this daze were in vain, and so after relentlessly trying to make jokes and lighten the mood, I gave up and surveyed the shop in immense detail.

The shelves were full. Hm. If Carl came back in this direction, the store would have been unlocked. The shelves would be somewhat empty and there would probably be traces of muddy footprints across the floor. And if Carl came in this direction, he would have most certainly explored this shop. So why were there no signs he had done? He wasn't ignorant: he was loyal to the group and would be doing his best to gather what he could.

I tried not to conclude that Carl was dead yet. Yes, there was a massive heard of walkers that evening. And no, we had not found Carl yet. But that was not to say that he hadn't thought like us and gotten shelter. He had weapons. And ammunition. I was not going to write him off too soon.

Then I felt my own fury establish itself. An inescapable idea implanted itself within my brain- and you can't undo an idea once it is fed and is given time to grow. Eugene. Since he had lied about Washington two years ago, the group had seen him as the odd-one out. It was out of generosity and pity that Rick allowed him to stay with us. If the decision were mine, and I did have a say, he would have been sent on his way. Alas, we kept him a pet for God knows what reason and know he was around taking portions of our rations and water. We were not the kindest to him. And he was a coward. So anything he did say to us, or did with us, was suspicious.

Did Carl actually come in this direction?

Eugene better hope he did. Until I can confirm my suspicions on his lying, I will keep my mouth shut and study him from afar. His telling of Carl's whereabouts had a strong sense of legitimacy, there was no denying this. And given the contents of the neighborhood he had supposedly explored, it was definitely seem like a place Carl would try and gets his hands on. On the other hand, there was no signs of Carl having been there. And Eugene got away with something before. I knew I would have to try and tell Rick fairly soon. I care for the boy, and I care for his father too, and I would not want to be responsible for prolonging Carl's disappearance. I would just have to wait. Only time would tell me the answer and what to do.


Having lounged around for four or five hours, reading wall posters and assessing his life, Carl knew he wanted to get a move on to search for his dad.

He stood up from his corner of the room and grabbed the nearby pocket candle making his way to the door, manning his gun with his other hand. When he got there, he put the candle on the table next to him, and tried to move the cabinet that held the door closed. It was a pathetic struggle. Having very little muscle build up meant slightly disadvantages like this. At the same time, he was trying not to wake Eileen up just yet. He did really consider whether he should ask for her help finding his dad and he eventually realized that all the time he had spent alone before for far too long, got him in trouble, and the years had taught him that he should always have backup.

The rattling of the cabinets contents was enough to wake Eileen up with a start. She sat up at break-neck speed from her spot and jumped into a defensive stance. She then realized it was Carl.

"What are doing? You moron!"

"Moving the cabinet!"

She became very irritated. "Oh so you just planned to leave, huh? And what about when you got out? What about putting the cabinet back to stop the zombies getting in while I slept, huh? You were just planning to leave me here?"

"No," he inhaled. "I was actually trying to move it so you didn't hurt your back and so we could get an early start."

"Never mind my back!" she snapped. "It's fine...perfectly fine. I would have had no trouble moving it! And...start?" she was confused. "Start to what?"

"I was wondering whether you could help me."

"How so?"

He paused to think about the phrasing of his request. It was a rather large favor and he didn't want to come across as needy. "I need to find my Dad. He was supposed to wait for me outside. We split up to loot some houses. I went down where I met you, Eugene- he's in our group- was taken with Sasha to inspect something close to here, and my Dad and our friend Michonne went somewhere through the woody bit. We agreed to meet back here. But when I came here, there were walkers and they were gone."

Eileen saw the desperate and worried look that swept across his face. She wasn't going to waste her time on an unworthy cause. "How do you know that they just haven't come back yet?"

"Because I was the late one!"

"Okay...they could have got bitten-"

"NO! No- no they wouldn't. They're not. I know they aren't. They're great survivors like that." Eileen was skeptical and distrusting of this. "Trust me. I know."

"Don't tell me who to trust," she said. "They could've gone in one of the shops next door."

"No. When I tried to get in the green one, I couldn't. They would have gone for that one and succeeded if they were around here somewhere."

"So you're going to improvise and search for a group of people who could be anywhere?"

"Don't think like that! Pessimism won't get us anywhere-"

"Who said I was trying to get somewhere?"

He took a sharp breath. "Look. I don't know you well, but I know that we helped each other. So please, please can you help me once more?"

Should I help him? This is most probably going to be a waste of precious time. And to dedicate this time to an idiot? Still, I wouldn't want to die knowing that this world made me a harsh, uncaring person. I could try and help. My family weren't the best, and I left them, but this guy apparently gets on with his so I am not going to let my selfishness destroy their relationship. It might do me some good to be with someone who was a little braver than myself, anyway.

"...Fine. "Carl smiled at her response. She was looking away stiffly. "Not because I want to help you though...because I have nothing to do..."

He grinned. "Sure, whatever."

"So. You wanna leave now or something? You seemed pretty desperate to leave."

He nodded. "Yeah. If we head out now we'll have more time. Plus, it'll most probably get lighter soon."

"Carl," she started. "It's November. It's probably pitch-black still."

"Doesn't matter. The quicker we start, quicker I find my Dad."

"And where exactly are we going to look? He could be round here like you said, or in the direction those walkers were going, or maybe he went in the direction of the place we were in. It's your dad, so it's your call."

"Definitely in the direction of that house." He said confidently, gesturing for help in moving the cabinet. "I know my Dad. He might've waited out for the walkers to go and then gathered our looting group to find me. He's a good dad. He's probably out there."

"We need to go back to the old house first." Eileen said hurriedly.

"Why?"

"My things...I left them there when I came after this moron in a Sheriff's hat," she smirked a little.

"Well won't you just have to regather things eventually anyway? It's a waste of time, we'll find other bits of wire and things on the way-"

"It's personal, Carl, but I need to get my bag. It has items in it that I need. I've had them this whole time and I'm not going to lose them now."

Reluctant to say yes, Carl was unsure as he shove the cabinet to the side and began to cut open the knot with his knife. "Eileen-"

"I hadn't even finished looting the place yet, I'm sure there's tonnes of things we could use. I'm helping you so you could at least let me get my things." She was frustrated.

"Alright, alright. Fine. We'll go back there, get everything of yours and make a start."

With that, he swung open the door, brandishing his knife with his gun in his pocket. Eileen ran about quickly blowing out the pocket candles and carrying them with one hand, while holding her knife with the other. The wax was violently hot still, so she carefully stepped out into the eerily quiet parade of old shops and began the journey back to the old house with Carl.