SEASON FOUR!
Okay, I don't remember the EXACTLY what happens, so don't crucify me for a few (a LOT) of mistakes. Just- *makes distracting hand gestures* the plot is what matters.
Fun fact: 30 Days Without An Accident is the first episode of the Walking Dead I saw. It was a rerun, and I was like, "cool, zombies." A few months later, I found it on Netflix, and my obsession was born.
"What are you doing in here?" asked Carl, poking his head into the library. Laura was nestled among the little kids, who apparently liked red hair. They were climbing all over her.
"What? I like storytime."
Carl rolled his eyes. "Food's ready."
"Yum. Come on, guys, food," said Laura. She tried to stand up, but the weight of the five-year-old still clinging to her made her fall. Carol smiled and pulled the little girl off of Laura gently.
Carl and Laura slid into their seats next to Patrick.
"Do you guys want my food? I'm not feeling so great," said Patrick.
"I'll take it," said Laura, pulling the pork toward her. She started shoveling the meat into her mouth.
"Are you okay, Patrick?" asked Carl. Patrick looked pale and nauseous.
"Yeah, fine. I'm just going to go lie down. Maybe go to Carol's thing later."
"Storytime? She holds them in the afternoons, too?" asked Laura, looking up.
"Laura, shut up. Seriously, Patrick. Ask the doctor for something, you look like hell," said Carl.
"Yeah, um, okay." Patrick stood up woozily.
After lunch, Carl and Laura retreated to his cell.
"Ugh, I'm so full I can't move," sighed Laura, stretching as she sat on the floor. Carl pulled a small bag of candy out from under his pillow.
"Too full for candy?" he asked.
"Hell no," she said, reaching for a piece.
Laura ate it quickly and wiped her fingers on her shorts. She scooted to sit by Carl on the cot.
"Hi," she said.
He looked at her. "Hi."
She kissed him. To his surprise, she didn't draw away after a second. Instead she deepened the kiss, trailing her tongue across his lip. He responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer.
His head spun with stars as she kissed him more fiercely, pushing him so that he was almost lying on his back.
"Is this a bad time?"
They jumped apart, Carl's face hot. He glanced over at Laura. She was grinning.
"Hey, Dad," he said awkwardly. "Um, this is Laura."
His dad looked at them, an amused smile splitting his face. "Hello, Laura. Heard a lot about you."
"Hi, Mr. Grimes," said Laura, standing and shaking his hand like she hadn't just been caught making out with his son. "I've heard a lot about you, too, although mostly not from Carl."
His dad stared at her for a split second before laughing. They walked out of the cell, his dad apparently forgetting about what he had wanted to say to Carl. Carl groaned and fell back onto his cot. His dad and Laura conspiring would not turn out well for him.
The sun was setting, and Carl couldn't find Laura or Patrick.
"Carol!" he yelled, hurrying over to her. She was leaving the library, at least five kids in tow.
"Hi, Carl," she said. "What is it?"
"Have you seen Patrick? Or Laura?" he asked. "I can't find them."
"Patrick was at storytime. He left because he was feeling sick. I haven't seen Laura since this morning."
Carl's brow furrowed. There wasn't exactly a ton of places they could be, and he couldn't find them anywhere.
"You are in so much trouble, young lady!" He whirled around. There were a limited amount of 'young ladies' around, and even less who liked to get into trouble.
A woman dragged Laura out of a room with a tight grip on her arm. Laura had on a smirk, one that annoyed Carl to no end. Sure enough, the woman yelled, "Wipe that smile off of your face! Next time, you'll think twice about nosing in other people's things."
Carl hurried over to the woman. "What happened?" he asked.
"This girl was poking around my room. She's a thief! Are you going to tell your father about this?" said the woman furiously.
"Uh, yeah. Come on," he said, grabbing Laura. He yanked her away. After a moment, the fuming woman went back to her cell and slammed the door shut. "What the hell were you doing?" Carl asked. She shook him off, still wearing her irritating smirk.
"Her husband is giving me three batteries to try and find out if she's cheating on him," she explained.
"Is she?" asked Carl. "Do you do that often?"
"All the time," she said, shrugging. "And she totally is."
"There is something seriously wrong with you," said Carl, shaking his head. He started walking back to his own cell.
"Before, I wanted to be a private investigator," said Laura, following him. "Good compromise."
"So. Should we pick up where we left off?" he asked, pulling open his cell door. She grinned at him.
"Absolutely."
Laura was sleeping in his bed again.
Not that he minded, but she was having nightmares almost every night.
It was unnerving, to see her usually smiling face twisted in fright.
Whenever Carl saw her like that, he wrapped his arms around her tightly until she calmed down.
That was how they worked.
During the day, Laura shined happiness into the dark corners of his life. During the night, Carl held her and kept the shadows away.
Carl woke up to a yell.
Then gunshots.
"Crap," he muttered. He tried to get out of bed, but he tripped over a still-sleeping Laura. "Crap!" Laura's eyes snapped open. Another gunshot went off, and she sat up, instantly alert.
"Crap," she agreed. "Let's go."
Carl hurried out of his cell, Laura on his heels. He looked around, eyes widening in panic.
There were walkers in the cell block.
"Oh my God," said Laura, horrified.
"There's a gun in my room," he said. "You take that, I'll get a bat." She backed into his room and grabbed the gun and the baseball bat.
"Here," she said, shoving the gun at him. "Take it."
"No. You have better aim, anyway. Just take the gun!" he snapped, grabbing the bat. She tightened her lips but held up the gun. They flattened themselves against the wall and crept in opposite directions, taking down walkers as they went. More than once, they had been far too close to a walker without realizing it, and the other had blown its head open.
In no less than five minutes, all the walkers were dead, though it had seemed to stretch on forever. Carl scanned the room quickly and found Laura, running over to her.
"Are you okay? Were you bitten?" he asked breathlessly, his eyes scanning her bloody body.
"No," she said, breathing hard. "Oh, God, Carl." She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.
They stayed that way for a long time, holding each other.
"We have to find Patrick," Laura said as they sat at the picnic tables. It had become their unofficial meeting place, and Patrick hadn't showed up for almost half an hour.
"Yeah," Carl agreed. "I'm going to go ask someone." He hurried away, Laura trailing after him. He called out to the first person he saw.
"Daryl!"
Daryl turned, his face unusually somber. "What?"
"Have you seen Patrick? We haven't been able to find him."
"No one told you?" Daryl asked, his brow furrowing.
"Told us what?" Laura interrupted.
"Patrick was the first to turn."
"What?" Carl asked. Rage bubbled up inside him. Patrick couldn't be dead. They had just talked to him the day before.
(You're soft.)
What? he thought.
(You're soft. People dying never used to bother you. Hell, you shot your mom. Patrick dying is nothing, just a blip on the grand scheme.)
He was my friend.
(She was your mom.)
That was different.
(How?)
It was a- a desperate situation. Judy was born, there were walkers at the door. I was used to it- it was just different.
(Yeah. You were used to it. You should be used to it now. Stop whining, toughen up, and get past it.)
"Carl? Carl, are you okay? Carl!" He snapped his head around to see Laura's worried dark eyes.
"What?"
"Patrick. He's dead. Didn't you hear him?" she asked, her voice quavering.
"Yeah. I did. I don't- we have to keep going."
"What are you talking about? He's dead," said Laura, staring at him.
"Look at the world we're living in," he said his voice haunted. "We cannot be distracted by this crap. We can't- we have to move on because we can't afford to be weak. We will die otherwise. You should know that better than anyone."
"Carl. That's not- I am not going to deal with this right now," Laura said. She backed away, holding her head in her hands.
"Laura-"
"No, Carl. My best friend just died, and you're telling me to just get over it. How fucking dare you? I have a moment to- to grieve for Patrick, when I couldn't for Tom and Damian and Ally and Jason and Bella, and you are trying to take away my moment for grief. You don't- you can't do that to me." Laura stepped further away. Carl didn't say anything, just stared at her.
Laura turned and ran away.
Carl lay in his cell until dinnertime.
He moved mechanically. He sat alone. He ate his venison.
Things acted as they usually did, but it passed in a strangely objective blur. It was like he was on the outside, looking into a shell-shocked community.
Two more people were sick.
He stared at his meat.
"What a shit show," he muttered.
"Ain't that the truth." Carl looked up. It was Beth, of all people, holding a plate of food. "You okay, Carl?"
"Fine, I guess."
She smiled faintly and sat down next to him. "No, you aren't. You're sitting alone. Your group is broken up. You don't seem too sad about it, though."
He shrugged. "Not a good idea to be sad about things. Makes you weak/"
"Just don't forget the difference between being weak and being human," she replied, staring steadily at him. "Okay?"
"Okay," he lied.
"Carl?"
Carl opened his eyes to Laura's voice. She hadn't crawled into his bed that night, and it felt strangely empty.
"What?"
"Karen and David were killed," she said, leaning against the doorframe.
"By the sickness."
"Someone killed them."
He flopped back onto his pillows.
"Complete shit show," he said softly.
"Yeah, well. Just thought you should know." For a second, Carl thought she might come in, curl up beside him. But she didn't. Laura left Carl with no one but the company of his own thoughts.
An extra long chapter because I haven't updated since 1987. WHO LIKES THE ROMANTIC ANGST?
