Carl stared at the wooden hatch, the ladder was metal and green, flecks of paint falling off onto the concrete floor. Carl flicked off a chip of paint, watching as it fluttered down. He didn't know what he was waiting for.

Healing had taken months, and in that time Nine hadn't spoken to him once. He'd caught flashes of her across the doorway, heard her mumbling in the next room, but she hadn't visited him. When he'd finally been able to hobble around, with the aid of Lucy, and a wooden stick that Ben had found him in the woods, she'd refused to meet his gaze. He knew he deserved it, knew he'd been cruel to her.

The only visitor he'd had was, Lucy; small and crazy, dreadlocks down to her waist. She'd bustle into the room at regular intervals throughout the day, arms full of bandages and pain killers, smile fit for blinding. It had taken Carl a long time to trust her, but every time he fought, she'd just laughed and called Ben to hold him down.

Ben was a huge man. He filled every room in the bunker with his bulk. He always wore his uniform, boots polished to a mirror shine, hair shaved and a hard line of hate across his forehead. Ben's eyes were black, as though light refused to affect them.

'He thinks he's a soldier. Ben, I mean.' Carl had grimaced to Lucy when she'd helped him hobble across the room.

Lucy had smiled, pulling at Carl's arm and hoisting him straighter. 'We all have lies we tell ourselves; I'm a soldier, I'm a nurse, things are going to return to normal,' she helped Carl lower himself into a metal chair, 'I don't care about Nine.' Carl blushed, turning to the table. Pieces of Nine's photographs were littered across it, some had been successfully reunited, most though still sat on the table alone. He was putting the photographs back together as an apology. It wasn't good, but it was all he had.

'I don't know what you're talking about.' Lucy knew things, just by looking. It unnerved him.

'Oh sure you don't,' Carl picked up a piece of photograph. It was Nine, younger, as she used to be, a different name, happiness achievable and plastered across her face.

'No, I don't.' He mumbled it to the picture, fingering the rough edge.

'Well, just promise me one thing.' Carl hunched his shoulders further into the metal table, trying to ignore her.

'I don't make promises anymore.'

Lucy sighed, grabbing Carl's face and turning it toward her. Her longs nails scraped the skin of his cheeks, he didn't like the feeling. Lucy was fiery and not someone he wanted to annoy, not with Ben looking after her. But she was nosy, muscling into business that wasn't hers, and that made him angry, made him want to run. Only problem was, it wasn't an option. Not while he struggled walking. She was like a whirlwind of badly aimed kindness, clueless of the damage inflicted.

'You'll make this promise, Carl Grimes. I know you have to go, but...but just be sure before you do. There's no guarantee we'll be here much longer, and if you come back…'

'I won't okay. I have to go, now leave me alone.'

Carl shifted on his feet, deciding to double check his bag again, just to make sure. He'd wanted to ignore Lucy's words and he'd done a bad job of pretending. He wasn't sure, as he unpacked his life onto the floor in front of him, he knew there was nothing certain about his decision. The thought of leaving Nine, not seeing her again made him pause and falter.

They wouldn't be in the bunker much longer, he knew that. He'd been hunting with Ben. The man was cold, and distant , more ice than flesh and blood; but he was an excellent hunter. Carl had learnt a lot, including the fact that food was running out.

His bag was packed, again. He stared at it. He knew it would be hard on his own. He'd done it before, but now, now the fear got in him every time he thought about it, woke up inside of him and made his stomach hurt. The rungs of the ladder seemed colder, he liked the sound they made beneath his shoes. It echoed around his head.

'They're getting all the wildlife, big, small. Not even eating them half the time.' It was one of the longest sentences he'd ever heart out of Ben. Carl stared at his back like it was some kind of trick. Hunting, Carl had found, was nothing like what his father had taught him; aim, shoot and hope didn't work anymore. Animals were harder to come by. This fact meant that Carl was struck by a certain amount of pride when he'd managed to land a full grown deer.

The first few attempts had sent him stuttering into the past; his dad was there, the deer was there, and he was reaching out, both eyes open and wide in wonder. Then the pain, the sound of a gunshot and the pain. Lucy called it post something disorder, she pushed the letters together as Carl shook through every scary thing that had ever happened to him.

'It's like waking up from a nightmare, when we're safe we have time to remember.' He went over and over through the fear, through the sadness, jolting awake, covered in sweat, names dying on his lips in the darkness. Once he woke to find Nine silhouetted in the doorway, he couldn't see her face, but he knew it was her. One hand gripping the door frame, foot presented in front of her as if she was going to close the distance, end the silence. But she didn't.

'Nine?" At the sound of her name, she'd left.

Carl lifted the hatch. It was cold, he could see his breath fogging the air. The sky was clear and starry and Carl gritted his teeth through the memory of him and Nine, backs against the road. He gripped his hand as it twitched.

'It's the tendons. They've been cut.I doubt you'll get full use out of that hand again.'' Lucy shook her head as she twisted Carl's hand this way and that, as Carl tried desperately to bend his fingers properly.

'Did a real number on you, didn't they?'

Carl scoffed, letting his hand fall onto his leg.

'What?' Lucy sat back on his bed, an amused smile on her face.

'It was Nine, we had a...disagreement.'

Lucy laughed. It was loud and Ben shoved his head round the door, eyebrow raised. She waved him off.

'And the eye?' Lucy pointed at her own adjacent eye, tapping her cheek just below it. Carl consciously touched his own face, feeling the ridges of scar. He forgot about it most of the time, people asked, and when they didn't he just assumed it freaked them out.

'Oh...that was….meant for someone else.'

'Who?' Carl didn't like thinking about it. Didn't like going back to the moment. His dreams sent him there almost every night, and that was enough for him.

'Doesn't matter.' Lucy didn't push, but he could tell she wanted to ask more, needed to.

Carl stared down the hatch and jumped at the black eyes staring up at him. Ben was silent, every step, every breath, like his existence did nothing but whisper into the world. Carl shuffled back, rising to his feet, as Ben climbed out the hatch and stood over him.

'You're leaving.' It was a statement, so Carl didn't answer.

Ben passed him a small trap, seeming uncomfortable with the gesture. When Carl took it, Ben coughed, straightening his shoulders, lifting his nose up as if sniffing the air.

'Thanks.' Carl muttered it down at the trap.

In some small ways the huge man reminded him of Jonah. He wasn't as kind, as thoughtful, in fact the only person Ben seemed to care about was Lucy. But there were things, like the way he'd hit Carl on the back with pride, when he'd shot the deer. It was only when they'd turned the deer over that all the pride disappeared.

'Another horde?' Carl knelt down next to Ben and examined the bites littering the side of the deer.

'Must be. They're weak, but they're out there.' The bites were shallow and healing, but they couldn't risk it. Carl stared at the back of Ben's head, sadness filling his chest as he thought of Jonah. He didn't tell Ben, he knew the man wouldn't understand, that or wouldn't care.

'You know, I wouldn't have hurt Nine.' Ben shot him a look over his shoulder. Carl carried on, 'I mean, we had our disagreements, but I wouldn't have hurt her.' He went to add it was because he cared, because he didn't want to hurt her, but he realised no one else needed to know that. Carl bumped into the back of Ben, looking up as the man turned slowly, small drops of rain caught in his short hair, scar marring his upper lip. Black eyes looked into Carls, and Carl gulped.

'I almost killed you.' Carl wasn't sure how to react, he pushed the dirt under his foot, this way and that. 'The only reason you're alive is because Nine stopped me, if she hadn't you'd be dead.' He turned away again, and Carl blinked over and over at his retreating back. He didn't know what he'd expected, but he'd expected more. again the thought of Nine saving him, after everything sat like a lead weight in his stomach. He sighed, shouldering his bag and followed Ben deeper into the woods, stepping over the fallen deer.

Carl nodded once at Ben then turned away, leaving the man stood by the hatch, each foot echoing around him. When he turned back, Ben wasn't there, and Carl couldn't see the hatch, as if nothing but empty forest stretched out all around him.

He'd left the dress and the photographs in the chair Nine usually sat in, a small blue cosy arm chair. She'd curl herself into it, feet tucked snugly underneath her. Carl paused, and looked back again. She wouldn't find them for hours, by that time he'd be well on his way, and they'd never see each other again.

Just leave. You've been waiting for this. It's time.

He had been waiting, it was time, but he didn't know how, not without Nine. Even when they fought, he felt something. Something was better than nothing, better than numb.

Feeling will get you killed. It's weak. You're weak.

Carl slumped against a tree, leaning his head back, letting his bag fall to the earth with a thud.

Be sure, Carl. He rolled his eyes at the sound of Lucy's voice in his head. Problem was, he wasn't sure, didn't know what he wanted anymore. All the while he'd been healing, he knew he should have been thinking about his family, but she crowded his mind. Everything was Nine; how she ate, how she slept, how she bit her bottom lip, how she refused, point blank, to look at him, let alone talk to him. He'd felt invisible, like a shadow. And it hurt.

'If you apologise, I'm sure she'll forgive you. That's usually all it takes from Ben.' Carl pulled a face at the thought of Ben apologising to anyone, didn't seem likely.

'I can't.'

'Why not, too embarrassed?' Carl's brow furrowed, Lucy was good at teasing him. It was irritating.

'Apologising means i didn't mean it….but i did.' He knew he'd meant everything and given the chance he'd probably do it all over again, because it was his family, and she had lied.

'Well you can still be sorry for something you meant. Like Ben, I'm sure he's sorry for nearly killing you. He did mean it though.' Carl grimaced as Lucy pushed Carl's knee up to his face. His whole body complained.

'Ow...Really, Ben, sorry? Seriously do we have to do this?' He was lay down on the bed, Lucy manipulating his legs. It hurt.

'You've had some serious injuries, healing bones get stiff, hence we need to move them a bit, and yes, Ben, sorry.'

'I've been out hunting.' Lucy just rolled her eyes and moved his legs some more. Carl grimaced.

'Have you tried talking to her?' Carl blushed, he hadn't tried, every time he'd wanted to the words had lodged themselves in the space between his lungs and his mouth, refusing to budge. Talking to Nine had never felt easy, but at least it had been possible. He felt like the small bunker was the biggest space between them. the walls creating a vacuum where only hate survived. It muscled in on everything.

'I...I...' Carl sighed, burying his chin into his chest, as Lucy dropped his leg.

'I know, talking isn't your strongest point. You've got the pictures though. Lift your top, lets have a look how the good lovely puncture wound is doing.' Carl sat up slowly, casting his eyes to the his table. The pictures were in a pile. They weren't perfect and there were quite a few pieces missing, but he'd done a good job. He just didn't know how to give them her. He'd asked Lucy to nose through Nine's belongings to get them. The short dreadlocked nurse had enjoyed the sneaking, but the thought still bothered him. He winced as Lucy poked at his side.

'Healing nicely, have to give myself a pat on the back for that one.' Lucy grinned at him as she patted her shoulder.

'How would you give them to her?' Lucy sighed, hand on hip, flicking her hair behind her, the strands bounced around like a silent wind chime, Carl watched them silently.

'You know, nothing to fancy. Probably take the pictures, walk up to her, and ooo..I don't know, give them to her.' Carl scowled. 'You're making it harder than it has to be.' Lucy always made things sound easy, sound simple, as if the world wasn't falling apart outside, and he wasn't a broken, shattered mess on the inside. He didn't know how to give things, not since he'd given Judith his hat. How had he done that? He couldn't remember. He'd just done it, and then he'd left. He decided that leaving was the key. He wouldn't be there for the fall out, wouldn't see her face contort in anger at the invasion of privacy.

Leave her, leave them all behind. The only one that you need to trust is me. Trust me and forget the others, forget Nine.

He wished he could. Wished for some distraction big enough that Nine wouldn't matter.

The walkers were wandering through the wood, a big mass of them, headed straight for him. He knew he should hide, but he was angry, he needed a direction, a certainty. Everything about killing walkers was certain.

He turned the knife into the first walkers brain, splatters of black blood painting his arm. He turned and kicked a walker away, its mouth open ready to bite, snapped shut as its weak head caved against the trunk of a tree, rotting blood dripping down the bark like black sap. He grabbed his other knife from his belt, stabbing two walkers in the chin, pushing them back into the horde.

This is stupid, you need to run. You could die, Carl. You will die if you don't run.

Carl didn't listen, he stabbed, kicked and bashed walkers brains in, till his body screamed at him and his breath clouded the air on a new day. The bodies littered the ground around him, and he stared at them as if he didn't know where they'd come from.

You're a fool, they could have killed you

Yeah but they didn't, i'm alive, i beat them.

He was covered in walker blood again. He sighed as he remembered the shower, the warmth water running in little tributaries down his body. He'd been clean, or as clean as he could get. Some of the walker blood just seemed to be a part of his skin.

'Carl?' Carl jumped, turning slowly. Nine was standing there, dress gripped in one hand, photos gripped in the other. She was crying.

'Nine i…' Carl stepped forward.

'Don't go...please..please stay with us.' She flung herself into his arms, but when Carl tried to catch her, she felt like rotting flesh, and brittle bone, he looked up into her eyes and she wasn't Nine anymore, her face mottled and old, flesh falling off bone like melting wax. He fell back, earth crashing to meet his back, the jolt running the length of his shoulder blades, pain following.

'CARL.' Nine's scream shattered the silence, he snapped back into reality, the walkers teeth nearly grazing the end of his nose as he quickly pushed it away. A knife broke the skin between its eyes, pointing at Carl. Rotten blood formed like a tear on the tip and dripped onto Carl's collar bone. It was cold against his skin. The walker fell to the side and Nine stood there. Her eyes red with tears. She yanked him to his feet, then punched him in the jaw, Carl stumbled, grabbing his face and staring at her.

'What the fuck?"

'You left without saying, anything?" She whispered it, but he could hear the venom in her voice.

'I….i…' He had nothing.

'You were just going to go? No goodbye's, just leave a dress and some pictures? Like that's enough?'

'Hey, you haven't spoken to me, in months. Now you don't have to worry about not talking to me.' He grabbed his bag from underneath a walker, grimacing at the rotten flesh stuck to it, he peeled it off and shouldered his bag, turning his back to Nine.

'Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about your family. I just...I need to get to Hope and I just...I wanted you there with me.'

Carl's heart faltered painfully in his chest. Strangely he didn't hate the feeling. Didn't love it either.

leave , let her go. She's nothing but trouble, nothing but lies.

'Come with me,' he turned back slightly. She shook her head.

'I want to, Carl...I do...i... I just can't.'

'What's so important in, Hope?' He turned completely, toes facing hers across the small distance, dead walker lying between.

'I don't...I guess..all of this stops.'

'All of what?' Carl scoffed, fiddling with the strap on his bag.

'This,' she gestured to the walkers at their feet. 'All the running, all the worrying, everything just stops. Don't you miss it?' He didn't answer. 'There might actually be something to live for, Carl, something more.'

It did sound nice. He could just be Carl again. Reading comics, being with Nine. No walkers trying to kill him. It never lasted thought, and when it ended, there'd be death, there'd be walkers, and everything would just go back to the way it always had been.

'It won't last.'

'How do you know, you haven't tried.'

'It never does, something always goes wrong, always.' He started pacing angrily, bits of rotting walker crunching under his boots.

'And what, what are you going to do. Hope you find your family, living like this. How can that be okay? You'll die.'

'And what do you care?' He spat in her face, expecting hate, expecting anger, but she was crying again, tears clear and glistening, he followed them down her cheeks confused.

She stepped forward. 'Carl i….' He panicked as her arms encircled his waist, pulling herself closer, burying her head in his chest, tears painting his t-shirt. His bag dropped down to his elbow then off his arm completely, and he wrapped his arms around her, thumb brushing the small hairs on the back of her neck.

Carl started crying.

He was scared, not the normal scared. Not the everyday fear of death that lived on his shoulders. He was terrified of lonely, more than that, terrified of no Nine. His family were somewhere, but Nine was close and smelt like soap.

'I don't want you to leave.' She mumbled it into his chest and his whole body shook with it.

He shook with the realization that he'd been put back together around Nine, like a puzzle of borrowed pieces. A Frankenstein of other people's strength. Without Nine he was gaps and spaces, broken pieces falling across the world. No point, no meaning, no glue to hold everything together.

He gripped her shoulders harder, afraid he'd passed out again, afraid he was seeing things.

'I'll….I'm gonna….I'm gonna stay.' He choked on the words, but he mean them. He wanted to stay.

What are you doing you have to leave, you have to leave.

Nine pulled away, searching his eyes.

'Why?'

'I...Because I...I'm not sure.' Nine nodded, pulling away, a blush coloring her cheeks, eyes red and swollen. They walked back to the bunker in silence. He wasn't sure, he wasn't sure he could make it alone, wasn't sure could let her go. He wasn't sure that, even with his family out there alive, he could leave her.

Nine's fingers brushed his, and he let them.

'You're going to need a shower.' Carl smiled, he realised there was no right or wrong anymore, no certainty. There was just Nine.

I sometimes think these people will become me and I'll become them.

Like we give each other the bits we're missing. All the human things we lack. When we're together we have those human things.

Carol said that the only person I can trust is myself. She says it with a faraway look in her eyes. I think there is a darkness that no one else can see, that follows her around. I suppose this world turns us into something different. The only problem is living with what we have become. The mish mash of hate, of mistrust and the small things that fill in the gaps.

I don't think i can trust me.

Maybe the voices in Carol's head are darker than most.

What has the world made her do?

I suppose it all depends on whatever has torn you apart, and then what puts you back together.