Carl and Lyra woke at the same time. He closed his eyes as he felt Lyra's lips and fingers play gently across his skin. From his neck up to his messy hair.

"God you smell," she whispered teasingly into the teen's ear.

Carl snorted despite himself. "The last time you had a bath was...?"

"Shut up."

The two gave each other a kiss before grabbing their clothes. Neither were embarrassed to dress or undress in front of each other any more. The two had seen each other's secrets and had heard each other's fears.

Carl watched as Lyra did up the pant on her braced knee, tying it tight yet keeping the knot high and small so that it would get caught. Slowly the teen crawled over and helped tie the last one.

"Thanks," she muttered.

Carl watched as solemn Lyra always became when working on her knee. It was as the air had being sucked from the room and nothing existed except just that very moment.

Lyra's bloodied body hit the ground hard. A broken scream escaped from her throat as she clutched her knee. However pain started to bloom in other places too, ribs, back, head...soon everything pulsed with pain. Lyra wondered if it would ever stop.

"Welcome home."

Lyra looked up and glared at the man towering over her. His sick grin mocking her as she struggled to grip something to hoist herself up, but her fingers were so slick with blood that they just fell from the table.

Giving up on standing, Lyra looked around.

The room was rather large. Metal tables were dotted around the floor and old, broken machines were lined up against the wall. The place had a dirty scent to it, and an old must hung in the air making it hard for Lyra to breath at times.

"Bastard...," she managed through clenched teeth as a wave of terrible pain gripped her.

"You knew the rules Lyra," Negan merely said. "I gave you chances and you still disobeyed."

"My knee...!"

"Better than the iron," the leader interrupted, "just ask Dwight."

The Saviour looked away as Lyra sent a dark glare at him.

"However...that's not to say you won't get it in the future should you step out of line."

The apprentice looked up in bewilderment.

"You work fast, and your skills are admirable," Negan admitted. "I do hope that this will work."

"...son of a...," Lyra couldn't finish the insult as a pain gripped her.

"Maybe use some of that damn energy to get better," Negan suggested. He motioned his men to leave. "I'm going to be generous and give you an entire fucking week to get back on your feet. After that, you fucking work. You pay back what you fucking owe me, making bullets and repair weapons just like it was back at the Sanctuary."

"Where the hell am I?" Lyra demanded.

Negan didn't reply just merely watched with a grin as tears poured down Lyra's face against her will. She hated that she was showing weakness to this man who seemed to be relishing in the fact. Lyra wanted to get up, to rise to her feet and beat him to a pulp.

"You...you killed Kaz...," Lyra managed weakly through the sobs.

"He knew the fucking consequences yet he still persisted, much like you are right now."

"...and Stacy...?"

Negan shrugged. "That young lady knows what it takes to survive, shame that Kaz didn't...or you fucking don't."

Lyra tried to speak but couldn't. All words and breathe were being sucked from her lungs making her gasp in pain as another ripple shook her body.

"I'll tell Stacy you said hi."

Lyra felt a small shudder run through her body as she forced the memory away. Something nudged her shoulder and she looked over to see Carl leaned against her, his typically hardened eyes softened just for her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's not your fault," Lyra answered, her voice low. She let out a small sigh.

"Come on," she said, "Dwight should be coming today with our rations."

Carl watched as Lyra climbed down the ladder. He knew that there was still pain in her expression. The teen climbed down the ladder and walked over to the workbench. He looked over to see Lyra splitting the remainder of their rations and grabbing some water.

"How much are we doing today?" Carl asked.

Lyra shrugged. "At least half of the first or so."

The teen nodded and walked over as Lyra set down the food. The two started to eat in silence, but Lyra knew that Carl was anxious. It was clear he was trying hard not to look at the door.

"You have to trust your dad Carl," Lyra said patiently.

The teen looked down at the remainder of his food. His appetite waning as questions prodded the teen. What if his father couldn't do it? What would happen then? Would Negan hurt someone in retaliation? Carl hoped not to all the antagonizing questions but that didn't stop from more.

Then something warm encased his face. It was gently and caring, making the nagging questions go away.

"Trust them," Lyra whispered, "trust me."

Carl felt his head nod as Lyra gently kissed him on the lips. He looked at her to see him a gentle look but there was something underneath it that Carl didn't understand.

"Lyra...," he whispered wanting to speak but the apprentice pulled away.

"I think we deserve a break," she said, "go up and check to see if Negan and his tagalongs are here yet. I'll clean up, it's alright."

"I can help."

"Take a rest, I'll be up in a bit."

Carl quietly left, still slightly conflicted whether he should stay or not. He wanted to speak, he wanted Lyra to join him. He watched her for a few moments before taking the slingshot and heading up to the second floor.

Up on the floor, Carl sat against the broken wall. He looked out into the forest to see birds take off from the trees. The moans coming from the walkers reminded him that he was trapped, but he wasn't concerned with them. A soft breeze washed over him as he leaned against the wall. Carl thought of his friends and family, wondering how they were doing - really doing. He wished he was there at their side, helping. He promised himself that he would help against Negan's forces, his new skills would make him an asset that his father couldn't refuse.

What felt like hours passed. Carl had risen and walked around to get the feeling back into his legs. He kept looking at the makeshift ladder wondering when Lyra would come up.

Having had enough waiting, Carl went down the ladder and into the shop. He was greeted to blood.

Immediately his instincts triggered as he rushed over to where Lyra was lain. Her skin pale and body motionless. Carl tried to speak but even breathing was hard for him and he didn't know what to do. Blood coated her chin and neck along with other bodily fluid and flecks. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her pulse was barely there.

"Carl..."

The teen was too in thought to register that someone spoke. Something gripped him tight and slammed him full on in the face. Startled, the teen bolted upright nearly headbutting Jordan in the nose.

"Fucking kid!" the Saviour growled.

"Carl, what happened to Lyra?"

The question made the teen's heart drop. He looked back down at the body of his lover, tears pricking his eye.

"Carl!" Dwight's voice shouted, bringing the teen back to earth. "What happened?"

"I...I don't..."

Dwight reached down and grabbed Lyra. He tried to get her to respond but received nothing.

"Radio Negan, take the boy with you."

Jordan struggled to get the teen under control but Carl whipped around and punched the Saviour in the face. The Saviour released him with a howl of pain clutching his broken nose. Dwight turned around in time to see Carl tackle him to the ground.

"Don't touch her!"

Dwight easily countered Carl's attack and punched him. Carl's head snapped back, and there was enough force to send the teen off to the side. Blood dripped out of Carl's nose and drooled from his mouth. A numb tongue ran across his teeth to his surprise and relief that none of them were broken or loose.

"Stupid kid."

Carl looked up in time to see a boot coming down on him.

XXXXXX

I'll figure it out.

Rick sat on the side of the bed motionless. His mind that was usually active in formulating plans was drawing blanks. Every time he thought about a plan it would be blocked by words from his group.

That's fucked up Rick.

Just do as he says.

As much as he hated to admit it, his own thoughts would be that block. He knew that he had to be very careful, Negan had already hurt Carl once who was not to say it wouldn't happen again? Rick clearly struggled.

Restless, Rick jumped to his feet and paced like a caged animal. He took out his pistol and check to see that it had all the bullets it in. Just as he slammed the chamber shut the door opened. Still hyperactive, Rick's arm flashed out and aimed the gun.

"Rick!" the swordswoman gasped, startled by her lover's actions.

Realizing what he had done, the leader lowered the gun onto the bed table and sat on the bed. Sensing the distress, Michonne sat beside Rick taking his shaking hand between her own steady ones. The heat and warmth from the hands steady's Rick's own. However the rest of his body still shook. Michonne pulled him into a light embrace feeling the trembles against her body.

The two remained. Quiet and motionless. Michonne felt something dampen her shirt and she realized that Rick was crying. She hugged tighter.

"Carl...," the father whispered, barely audible.

"...I know," Michonne responded gently.

Rick held tight, afraid that it he let go then Michonne would be gone too.

"He's my boy...and I can't..."

The swordswoman heard the pain and anger in his words.

When Rick had returned with Eugene and Abraham, he had told them what happened. The room was so vibrant with anger that Daryl had jumped up and ran to the garage with the intent of driving to the compound himself. Rick and Abraham managed to stop the hunter in time and rip the keys from his grasp.

"We will save him," Michonne said firmly.

Rick didn't respond. He remained close though, still afraid to let go. After a few beats, they released each other but remained close.

"Carl has...I think he has feelings for Lyra," Rick managed.

Michonne bowed her head, she knew that there was something between the teen and the apprentice but didn't know what. When she had tried to get Carl to open up more about it, she was shut down.

"He's growing Rick," Michonne reminded. "He will find his own, he needs to."

Rick closed his eyes. He knew that his son was growing and he wanted to be there for Carl especially the way the world is right now. Rick didn't want his son to be alone, to be lost and above all, to be vulnerable.

XXXXXX

Carl slowly woke. He found himself on a bed, a proper one not a cot. Something else that drew his attention was that his wrists were bound to the twin bed's posts. The teen gave a slight tug feeling the nylon taunt against his skin. He looked around to see the room was fairly plain, a bed side table and a chair. The curtains were drawn over the window but he could still hear the noises outside rise to meet his ears.

He then looked down at himself to see that he was still dressed in the bloodied clothes. His fist pulsed with pain where he had hit the Saviour and his nose ached where Dwight had punched him. He could feel the skin under his left eye tighten every time he blinked, knowing that it was possibly bruised.

The door opened and a woman walked in.

"Who are you?" the teen demanded angrily. He tried to straighten the best he could but it wasn't much. She poured water into a cup and held it out for him. Slowly the teen relaxed his muscles as the cup was brought to his lips and he drank a couple gulps.

"Where's Lyra?"

The woman didn't speak, instead just unsheathed a blade from her side and cut the ropes. Then a firm hand grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him off the bed. Carl struggled trying to pry the hand off but the woman was oddly strong. Her other hand grabbed one of his arms and twisted it up behind his back making the teen more controllable.

"Let me go!" he said continuing to struggle.

She opened the door and herded him through, down the hall and to an open room on the right.

Inside Dwight was seated on a chair. There was a mix between anger and confusion on his face, but it wiped as soon as he saw the teen and the woman walk in. He got up from the chair and grabbed Carl by the back of his shirt.

"Leave," he commanded to the woman.

She left wordless, closing the door behind her.

"Get off of me," Carl growled. He tried to kick Dwight but the Saviour dug his fingers into his neck and slammed him into the wall.

"What the fuck are you kids planning?!" he growled.

"Let me go!" Carl shouted back.

A pain gripped his scalp as Dwight grabbed a handful of his hair.

"What's the fuck is going on?"

"I don't know!"

Carl was whipped around to come face-to-face with the angered Saviour.

"Did she tell you she was going to overdose?"

Carl's mouth dropped slightly. Was that what happened? Why would she...? What...?

Dwight saw the confusion on the teen's face and let out a soft growl seeing that the teen was just as confused as he. He released Carl who immediately rubbed the back of his neck. Blood coming off on his fingers.

"Sorry," the Saviour said weakly, his tone less hostile.

"Fuck you," Carl snarled.

Dwight gave no sign of caring for the insult.

Carl looked past him and saw the steaming water in the tub. He looked over to see a towel and a pair of fresh clothes were on the ground.

"Strip."

Carl felt his heart stop as the breath clogged his throat. Unconsciously he stepped towards the door.

"Don't be an idiot kid," Dwight warned. "Stella was ordered to lock the door when she left, and I have the other key. Negan's orders are that you can't leave the bathroom until you're clean."

"I'm not cleaning."

Dwight sighed as he rose to his full height showing how easy it would be for him to take the boy down.

"Kid, either we do this the easy way or the hard. Trust me, the hard isn't going to be pretty."

Carl heard the growl in the Saviours tone and he knew that he would loose – again.

"Turn around," Carl said as he gripped the hem of his shirt showing he was going to take his clothes off.

"I hear the doorknob turn, I'll break your hand," Dwight warned as he turned the chair.

Carl quickly undressed and then went into the tub feeling the steam rise around him.

"...alright...," Carl said.

Dwight turned the chair back facing the door but gave a quick glance over to see the teen was indeed in the tub.

"Here." The Saviour handed over some soap and a scrub.

Carl started to wash his body feeling better and more rejuvenated. He did his body quick and watched as the water turned a murky grey.

"Don't forget to wash your hair," Dwight said.

Wordless Carl did so, rubbing soap into his hair and then going under for a few seconds to get the suds out. When he resurfaced he looked over to see Dwight picking his nails with a small switchblade. The Saviour looked over and Carl unconsciously drew his legs against his chest. Dwight rolled his eyes.

"How's Lyra?"

"She'll live," Dwight answered not looking at Carl. "Negan's livid but she'll live."

"She...was in pain," Carl said.

"Sure, because when you're in pain you down alcohol and pills to make it all go the fuck away."

Carl heard some waver in the Saviour's voice and he wasn't sure why. In fact, the Saviour really shouldn't care. None of the others did, so why was Dwight acting so different?

"How did she get the alcohol?" Carl asked.

"I don't know," Dwight answered. However Carl picked up on a guilty tone, he wasn't sure why Dwight would give Lyra alcohol.

"And the pills just fell from the sky right?"

A gleam of silver flashed across Carl's left eye as his head snapped back. He clutched his cheek where the knife had dug in. Carl looked over at Dwight who grabbed his hair and pulled him until he was a mere inch away form the Saviour.

"Think that you can shit on me huh?" the Saviour demanded, "think that watching one friend die gives you that right?"

Without thinking, Carl threw himself at Dwight and punched the Saviour in the face. He continued to deliver the blows, one after another until Dwight grabbed his throat and tossed him off. Carl laid on the ground, his hand clutching his throat as he curled his body. Dwight rose to his feet and was about to shout when Carl spoke first.

"I had to put down my mom after my sister was born."

Dwight looked down at the teen. He just laid on the ground, vulnerable and clearly defeated. Without a word, the Saviour scooped him up and placed him back in the water. Carl felt the water rise around him but he didn't feel the warmth, the memory made him cold as usual as if whatever happiness he had in his life was sucked out in a second.

"Wash up," Dwight said, "and don't move."

Carl watched as the Saviour knelt and grabbed his dirty clothes. He unlocked the door and walked out of the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Carl looked back down at the greyish water. He closed his eyes and leaned back until his back was against the slanted wall, his head just resting against the wall. The hairs on his scalp still stung from where Dwight had grabbed him along with the scratches on the back of his neck.

"Lyra...," the teen tested in the empty room.

He hoped with all his heart that she was alright. Why would she do something so reckless? It was stupid of her to do something do dangerous, she could've died! Carl swallowed.

If Lyra died...If anything bad happened to her... Carl didn't want to think about it. He had lost too much already and he didn't want to loose Lyra. That didn't go to say, that he wished bad upon his friends and family. All they had being through together...but this situation – they weren't together. They were divided with no way of truly communicating with each other. It had being two weeks since his father, Eugene and Abraham had visited and they never came again.

The door opened again and Carl looked up to see Dwight coming in with a med-kit.

"You done?" the Saviour asked nodding to the tub.

Carl nodded and watched the Saviour turn away as the teen got out. The short fight flashed in Carl's mind and only then he realized that he was naked. He looked over at Dwight who's back was still turned and quickly grabbed a towel. Wiping himself dry, Carl quickly slipped on a pair of clean jeans, shirt and hoodie.

" 'kay," Carl indicated he was clothed.

He looked over to see Dwight take out a small tube from the kit and motioned him over.

"Stay still," the Saviour ordered as he spread the small blot of cream on the wound. Carl winced feeling the pain prick then numb the skin on his cheek. Dwight added a couple more blots to the scratches on his neck, which didn't sting so badly. He took some gauze and cut it into stripes before applying it.

The two were wordless as he applied gauze to the scratches. Dwight snapped the kit shut and then took out zip ties. Carl immediately bristled.

"Don't do anything stupid," Dwight warned.

"What's that for?"

"You'll be staying here for another night before heading back. Negan wants to make sure that you don't cause a problem."

"I won't," Carl argued.

"Can't say that I blame him for taking no chances," Dwight shot back, "hands."

Defeated, Carl held out his hands and Dwight lashed a tie around the wrists.

"Stay close," he sad letting the bound hands drop.

Carl didn't answer and looked over towards the door. Dwight grabbed his chin and forced him to look at him directly.

"Hey look at me kid! Sucks to be me, I'm your fucking babysitter. If you do anything that messes shit up, then it comes back onto me got it?"

"Why should I care? You shot Daryl!"

"He had it coming! And you should give shits because the next place I take you, 'otta loosen your tongue a bit."

Carl raised an eyebrow.

"Time to go check up on your girlfriend."