A/N I am damn sorry about the missed update from last weekend, but work has been horrendously awful and I've been unwell too. Wanted to spend this whole weekend writing and recovering from work, but could barely get a page done - nevertheless chapter 54 is finished for you. Hope you enjoy :-)


Thursday, March 5

Helping Judith with her sneakers Carl shoved one onto her foot and twisted it this way and that, working it over the thick sock that would keep her toes warm. He worried that he was being too rough, but she gave no protest, too excited by the prospect of getting out of the house and spending time with Olivia. When the sneaker was finally on he squeezed the end to test how much room she had, having seen his dad doing this on more than one occasion, his test usually followed by complaints of how quickly she had grown. But there was plenty of room, and they seemed comfortable when she got up and rushed towards Olivia.

"Don't forget your coat, silly," Olivia said playfully, sending her back to Carl. "You'll turn into a popsicle without your coat."

The usual argument ensued, Judith protesting heartily as he wrangled her arms into the puffer jacket Carrie had found on a run many months ago, and to be honest he couldn't blame her for not wanting to put it on. She looked ridiculous in it, the long sleeves engulfing her hands, but he knew she was protesting only because she could.

"You're wearing it," he said sternly, unaffected by her efforts to actually shed a genuine tear. "If you don't wear your jacket then you're staying inside all day. Got it?"

He could feel the bite of impatience in his voice, impatience that was only confounded by the sharp way he zipped her up, and then the rush of guilt hit him. She was looking at him glumly, realising he was cross with her, and he hated to see that look on her face. Kneeling there before his little sister he took a deep breath, making himself smile at her before pressing a wet, noisy kiss onto her cheek.

"All better now," he said cheerfully, putting a beanie on her head and tucking it over her ears. He kissed her on the other cheek and then gave her a tight hug, his heart aching as he tried not to think about what he was about to do…what he had to do. "You be a good girl for Olivia. Stay off the stairs, and don't touch the pantry shelves."

Judy giggled at him mischievously, but he had no doubt that she'd be well behaved for Olivia, that she never stepped a toe out of line for her babysitters. Already she was rushing out of the house without second thought, leaving Olivia to collect her back pack.

"I love you Judy.

"Luff you," she replied, but she didn't look back. Her attention was focused on the railing above her, and she hung onto it as she carefully went down the front steps. When she reached the pavement she called out to Olivia, telling her to hurry up.

"Always nice to know she'll miss you," Olivia joked as she waved goodbye. "I'll bring her back around three."

"Thanks," he said sincerely, breathing a sigh of relief when they were both gone. For a few moments he stood there at the closed door, not quite knowing what to do…was he really going to go through with his plan?

It had been four days since his dad and Michonne had left Alexandria, confident that the Saviours were no longer laying in wait to harass and incite them. With Dianne's reassurances they had decided to go to the Hilltop to see Lana and meet with Gregory, and his dad had planned to come home the very next day…that had been Sunday. They had talked about trying to do some scavenging while they were out, maybe stopping at the Kingdom to receive some supplies from them to offer as their next tribute, but after four days Carl was feeling appropriately worried for them. They could be stuck somewhere, waiting for help that wasn't coming…they could be dead already.

Since Negan and the Saviours had visited, things had changed again. Tara had been a near constant presence, going back and forth between him and Judith to Maggie and Herschel, ignoring her own grief and trying to hold all of them together. Carl wasn't cruel enough to tell her that her efforts were a poor bandaid, that what she was doing made no difference to any of them. Helping out with Herschel wasn't going to bring Glenn back from the grave they'd buried him in, and making Judith dinner wasn't going to bring Carrie home. Tara's efforts were useless, making no difference to the shit situation they were all in.

Carl on the other hand…he had been entertaining an idea that was equal parts heroic and stupid.

The general consensus for now was to sit tight, to jump through the hoops and appease Negan in the hope that he would pity them enough to free Carrie and Daryl. None of the communities would make any kind of move until Carrie and Daryl were safe, or at the very least until Carrie was safe. But Negan was volatile, and the way he enjoyed taunting them had Carl worried. Was he ever going to give Carrie back? People were dying faster than they could grieve for them. Denise, Glenn, Abraham, Richard and Benjamin…what if it was Carrie who was next?

In his more thoughtful moments Carl was almost certain that Negan wouldn't hurt her, that to do so would incite backlash from Alexandria. Negan needed her too much to kill her, right? It's why he had stopped his dad was cutting his arm off, because he didn't want to push him too far over the edge. Killing Carrie would be a mistake, one that Negan was sure to err on the side of caution for, but did that mean she was never coming home? If Negan really wasn't come back to Alexandria until two weeks had passed, then she might have had the baby already, it might be too late.

This thought made him feel antsy and restless, and so he turned and went upstairs to his bedroom. She can give birth on the floor of her cell like a barn animal. That's what Negan had said to them the day he came to Alexandria, a warning for what would happen if they didn't impress him with their next tribute, and the thought that he might actually do that to her was frightening. Against his will he began to picture it in his mind, Carrie writhing in pain on the floor of a dark cell, and it drew his mind back to the day Judy was born. He never thought that type of thing would happen ever again, that what happened to his mom was so terrible he'd never have to see that a second time. Trapped and surrounded by Walkers she had been terrified by the thought of giving birth there, and then she died. Now that was the reality that Carrie might be facing.

If that happened and she died Carl didn't want to think about what that would do to their family. Judy didn't deserve to lose another mom, and she was still asking about her, wondering when she was coming home. And his dad…Carl didn't think he'd be able to cope of something happened to her or the baby. He would fall to pieces again just like he had before, and he wouldn't be able to fight the war that had to come.

It was the image of Carrie giving birth alone on the floor of a cell that was the final straw, compelling him to do something. The risks were huge, but if he caught Negan in the right mood this plan would allow him to save Carrie and the baby before anything else happened to them. Negan seemed to like him, and though he had rejected the idea of him taking Carrie's place at the Sanctuary at the very least it was worth another shot. There was no telling when his dad would be back, and it was too risky to wait two weeks. Stupid or not, Carl had to try something.

Having made his decision he made quick work of his departure. He had to leave without seeing anyone, without saying goodbye to Enid and risking that she would try to stop him. Instead he lingered only to find a clean bandage for his face, winding it around his head and pulling his hair across it as best he could. By now he was supposed to be keeping it off all the time, but it was easier to tolerate people staring at the bandage than staring at his scars.

As he left he paused outside the nursery and looked inside, reminding himself of why they had risked Carrie travelling with them that night, and of why he was doing this now. The room that had once been Carol's was now painted light yellow, a crib, change table and rocking chair perfectly arranged exactly to Carrie's liking. The baby clothes were all laundered, ironed and put away, hung up in the closet on tiny hangers or folded neatly into drawers, socks and gloves so miniature he was sure Judith had never been quite so small. Carrie had been meticulous as she prepared this room, and had spent days trying to figure out which wall would be the best for the crib before eventually realising it would probably go by her bed for a few months. That had come as a relief to Carl, for the nursery shared a wall with his own bedroom, but now what he wouldn't give for a newborn baby to be waking him up in the middle of the night.

Downstairs he went to the closet at the front door and collected a knife and machete, making sure to secure the child lock latch when he closed it. He had no guns with which to arm himself, but nevertheless he wore the holster around his leg, feeling almost naked whenever he didn't have it on. He stopped by the kitchen to collect a piece of fruit and bottle of water for his backpack, unsure of how long it would take him to get to the Sanctuary, and before he left he glanced at the birthday card that sat on the kitchen counter.

Today was his dad's thirty ninth birthday today, so he had made him a birthday card and wrapped his present just in case he came home. The card itself was nothing special, he had given Judith her crayons and set her loose with some paper, but with a little effort he had managed to turn her scribbles into something that resembled a birthday cake and balloons. Dad would like it, and even if he didn't it would go on the refrigerator anyway.

Trying to keep his departure inconspicuous he slipped out the garage door and made his way to the walls behind his house. There were plenty of people out in the community today, meaning he would have to make a point of hiding his departure. Taking a moment he looked up at the top of the walls, psyching himself up to climb it. He wasn't afraid of the height, and he had quickly recovered his sense balance after losing his eye, but he hadn't done this at all since before then. Feeling a little uneasy he slipped three footholds through the holes in the frame, breathing deeply as he reassured himself. He had done this a hundred times at least, and the feeling of elation as he slid down the support beams on the other side was a great reward. Without any more hesitation he started to climb, not looking down and losing his balance but instead slipping in the next footholds as he climbed.

"Hey Carl," came the suspicious voice of Maggie.

Halfway up the wall Carl froze, his heart lurching as he realised how stupid he was. Though he had scoped out the people out in the community, it hadn't occurred to him to take a good look around behind the houses. Clutching the wall he braced himself as he slowly turned his head and looked down, watching as Maggie emerged from the garage of her house next door. On her hip she carried Herschel, his plump face smiling contentedly up at his mother. He was blissfully unaware of what had happened to Glenn, and perhaps had even forgotten him already.

For a moment he considered ignoring her, just pretending she wasn't there and climbing the wall anyway…but what if she suspected what he was doing? He watched as she spread out a blanket on a small patch of grass and then lowered Herschel down, passing him a few toys before sitting down next to him.

"Hey, Maggie," he said nonchalantly. "What are you doing out here?"

She gave a heavy sigh, looking down at Herschel who happily sucked on one of his toys. "I wanted him to have some fresh air, but there's a lot of sympathy out front right now."

"Yeah," he murmured awkwardly, understanding. Everyone was trying to say the right thing, to offer comfort and sympathy, but none of that helped.

"So," she continued, looking up at him with a knowing expression. "What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, you know…just wanted some fresh air too. Thought maybe I'd go see Glenn."

"Ahh," she nodded, though it was clear she didn't believe a word he told her. "The cemetery's the other way. Inside the walls."

Now he hesitated, for to maintain this pretence would require him to actually go to the cemetery, a place he absolutely did not want to see. That overturned lump of dirt was not Glenn. He was buried there, but going there didn't allow them to be with him. Instead he simply shut up, stupid for having tried to sneak any wrong doing past Maggie. Without another word he simply turned back to the wall and took another foothold from the pocket of his backpack, slipping it through the next hole up top and beginning to climb. He was stupid for having tried to sneak any wrong doing past Maggie…he knew what she had been like at his age, that she had seen her own share of mischief and sneaking about.

Despite his former haste to get over as quickly as possible he now took his time, feeling a little disoriented after the distraction. But the process came back to him easily, and as he methodically climbed he allowed himself to think through his next steps. He knew where to find a car out there, and he knew where to find some guns that could be reasonably passed off as scavenged that day. He could bring them to Negan as a peace offering of sorts, the same way his dad had given over Michonne's rifle last week.

"You're not going far, right?"

Having reached the top and steadied himself he looked back down to Maggie below. She had settled Herschel between her knees, one hand stroking his fine black hair while the other passed him a second toy. Unlike Carl she was powerless to do anything to avenge Glenn's death and help fight the war. Herschel needed his mother now more than ever, and not just because he was breastfed. For a moment Carl considered telling her the truth, comforting her by saying that he was doing this for her too…but he was smarter than that. Maggie would never let him do it if he told her the truth.

"I'll be home before noon," he lied. "I promise."


To her sheer disbelief, Negan was hosting a meeting today, all of his top lieutenants joining him in a room that almost passed for a boardroom. It had been quite the fuss that morning when each of them arrived with a small convoy of guards, the workers all scrambling to welcome them in and accommodate them, providing hot drinks and taking their coats when they entered the Sanctuary. Carrie had been standing on the upper platform where Arat normally prowled, watching the scenes unfold from up there where she could hide the fact that she was eating her third croissant of the morning. She had watched each arrival and learnt the lieutenants names, Gavin and Regina who she didn't recognise, and then Paula who she did. The redheaded woman was the one who had caught her, Abraham and Carl that night in the woods, who had patted her down and found the pocket knives she had hidden in her bra.

Creeping around as best she could, Carrie had managed to follow them as they all entered one of the rooms on the ground floor, and she lingered at the end of a corridor as workers carried in water pitchers and glasses, trays of fresh fruit and sandwiches. By now they were twenty minutes into their meeting, with Carrie risking a lot in order to listen in. Her main interest had been gauged by the fact that Laura was in attendance, and she wanted to make sure that she was staying for the entire meeting. The intention that day had been to sneak into Laura's room and peruse her points ledger, to try and ascertain as much information as she could about how things worked here. But she was disheartened to see Laura carrying the ledger with her, taking the bright blue folder into the meeting.

Standing outside the meeting room, Carrie was privy to the conversation within, taking in as much detail as she possibly could. There were glass windows that looked into the room, but they were dirty enough that it was easy for her to simply walk past undetected, and then she stood behind the solid door, concealing the fact that she was there eavesdropping. A ventilation fan above the doorway was the only opening to the room, but it was large enough that she could hear them talking as if she were in there with them. Hidden in the pocket of her light pink jacket was her notebook and pen, and every time she heard something of importance she took it out and wrote it down, even if she couldn't yet make sense of what it meant in the bigger picture.

"Usage is tighter than a nun's panties," Negan said loudly, thumping his hand on the table. "But now is not the time to relax restrictions. Is that clear?"

"I disagree," Simon said emphatically, sounding tired of the meeting already. "I've been saying for months now, we need to spend some rounds to save them. If and when we encounter unforeseen circumstances we waste rounds because we don't let our people practice!"

"Laura?" Negan enquired. "How much allowance do we have for…unforeseen circumstances?"

There was a slight pause as Laura cleared her throat. "I'll put it this way. Let's not encounter those unforeseen circumstances."

A low murmur swept the room, and Carrie held her breath as she listened intently. It pleased her to hear them sounding unhappy about this, for there was no need to guess what the unforeseen circumstances Negan referred to were. He was worried about a fight with Alexandria, and it seemed he didn't have the resources for it.

"The Plaza ammunition use is well below projections," the woman named Regina commented, taking her turn to discuss the inventory. "The fine for every unnecessary discharge of a weapon is working, we've been able to curb the trigger happy dicks from messing around. It's kept us below projection, but it's meant target practice has been nil."

"Do your people need target practice?" Negan enquired with a bite of impatience.

"As much as it pains me to say this…Simon's right. You've saddled me with a lot of amateurs, a-"

"Because I know you can handle them."

"Yeah, I can handle them," she argued. "But Simon is right. We waste as much as we save because of amateurs who can't shoot straight to save their fucking life. People need target practice."

"Laura?"

There was a pause, and Carrie listened as hard as she could, making out what sounded like papers shuffling around.

"You've got enough leftover to ration some extra training. You can have fifteen percent for training, so long as it's combined with clearing the Rotters."

"An extra fifteen percent on the March budget, or fifteen percent of what I saved last month?"

"Fifteen of what you saved. We're still facing a shortage, and we're running the new group in right now. At some stage they might try something, so we need to keep saving."

There was a pause before Regina continued. "Fifteen percent won't amount to much."

Another pause came to pass, even longer than the last, and then Negan spoke up. "Twenty percent of the savings for the Plaza gun training. Ten percent for the rest of the outposts. You have all saved your pennies, right?"

There was a general murmur of assent before Laura answered, though she sounded rather unhappy. "Everyone is below projections. Regina's group has been the worst historically, but they've come out on top February and Jan."

"You might be up for quarter of the year!" Negan praised, rousing a laugh from each of them.

"Is there a prize?" Regina asked.

"A night in my bed."

"Well shit. Are you in it too?"

"Wha' the fuck do you think?"

There was more laughter now, someone slapping their hand onto the table.

"Pass," Regina said dryly. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Probably for the best. I heard about what you're like in bed," Negan teased. "And I need that like I need a dick in the ass."

"Just to clarify," Regina began. "Do-"

"I do not need a dick in the ass."

"Worried you might like it?"

As they descended into an immature back and forth Carrie rolled her eyes. Nice to see they were being productive in there. As she waited for them to get on with things she took out her notepad and scrawled some thoughts onto it, noting that they seemed prepared to fight back if Alexandria were so inclined to strike first. But they were worried about ammunition, and had been rationing it at the expense of lapsing skills.

"Speaking of a pain in my ass," Negan said loudly, his tone of voice bringing everyone back to attention. "Dixon. He was going ape-shit this morning. Whatever you did to him drove him absolute nutty bitchcakes."

"Yep," was Dwight's short answer.

"So, is he ready? Is he kneeling?"

"He's not quite there yet."

"Hey man, we all knew he'd take longer to break than her," Simon commiserated. "Some people are harder."

Negan was less understanding. "I need him broken into little Dixon pieces by the time we go back to Alexandria. I need him to be me," he said emphatically. "Because without her, he might not be enough leverage to keep Rick in line."

"I'm working on it."

"Work him harder. Cut his rations."

"Well that's going to be difficult," Dwight countered, sounding annoyed now. "We all know he's getting rations from someone."

"Do we?" Negan enquired, sounding interested. "Care to explain, Laura?"

Carrie held her breath, her heart pounding as she listened in. No one had stopped her bringing food and water to Daryl…was that about to change?

"The consensus was to let her bring him food and water," Laura explained. "It makes her happy and keeps her out of trouble."

"Then either stop her paying him these little visits, or come up with something else to break him."

"I'll come up with something," Dwight assured him. "I know wha-"

"Dwight. Could I proffer a suggestion?" Simon interjected, his politeness sounding feigned. "May I?"

"Yeah, Dwighty Boy. May he?"

"Go right ahead."

"Negan…how far are we willing to go with her?"

"With her?" he said quietly. "I thought I made that crystal fucking clear."

"Yes, bu-"

"She is off limits to everyone, for everything."

"Hear me out. She's not just leverage to Rick, she's leverage to Dixon too. You want him to kneel, she's the way to do it."

"She's here for a reason," Paula spoke up, agreeing. "You should use her."

Negan wasn't having any of it. "She is off limits."

"We don't have to follow through," Simon added, trying to clarify where he was going with this. "We just call his bluff. He doesn't care what we do to him, but to her? We push them both just close enough to the edge, and just when he thinks we're actually going to do it, he'll kneel."

There was a long silence, and Carrie could practically feel the tension radiating out of the room. She was holding her breath, knowing that whatever was decided now would affect her and Daryl. What were they going to do? Were they willing to do something to her in order to break Daryl? She had thought that the Saviours cleaning his cell and providing him clean clothes meant his conditions were improving, but she hadn't actually set eyes on him up close since their return from Alexandria. Were they mistreating him again? It sure sounded like they were torturing him, or at least were planning to.

"Next on the agenda?"

It was a clear dismissal of the entire conversation, and as they picked up from the next topic of discussion Carrie breathed out in relief. Whatever they were suggesting, Negan had shut it down. She was off limits to them, and would remain that way. She was going to be safe, but surely that meant whatever was happening to Daryl would escalate. Would they stop her from taking him food and water? Would they cut her off from her only means of helping him and providing comfort?

"There is no conspiracy between the Hilltop and Alexandria," Simon said loudly, the topic capturing Carrie's attention. He was speaking over the others, trying to quell a debate that had broken out. "They knew of one another, one of his guys tried to establish a trade for goods, but the deal fell through."

"Then what were they doing out there that night?" Regina argued. "We all know they were going to the Hilltop!"

"Yeah, because D here knocked off their doctor. Paula and I have spoken to Gregory about this twice now, and his story has not changed. Rick and his group never even made it to the Hilltop that morning. Lana bled out, and they dragged their sorry asses back home."

"And you believe that shit?"

"Yes, I do."

"Because Gregory's got his head shoved so far up your ass he could chew your damn food for you!"

"I believe him too," Gavin said in Simon's defence. "Gregory is not a trouble maker. A thin dicked politician, yes. But not a trouble maker."

Regina scoffed in derision. "Don't even get me started on you and your thin dick, Gavin."

"Well that's a little uncalled for," he commented. "My manhood is of adequate girth as you well know."

"Then what have you done about the shit that went down at the Kingdom the other week?"

"Yes, Gavin," Negan began, sounding interested to hear this. "What have you done about that jumped up trigger happy shit?"

"This has been discussed already."

"You're still sending Jared out scavenging. He's still one of your guys."

"But he is no longer accompanying me to the Kingdom's pick up. The situation has been handled."

Now there were scoffs of derision from all around the table, and Carrie stood up on the tip of her toes to better hear. What had happened at the Kingdom?

"Well what would you have me do? Demote him all the way down to grunt work?"

"Transfer him to Satellite Station," Paula suggested smugly. "If you can't man up enough to put him back in his place, I sure as shit can."

"I can handle my own men! Now I know kids like Jared. They need to be occupied with a task," he argued passionately. "They need to be mentored. Demoting him to grunt work is a waste of the very potential Negan saw in him, and it means that I can't keep an eye on him."

"Tell me, Gavin," Negan instructed. "Was your eye on him when he shot two people over a rockmelon?"

Simon interjected now, having been largely silent throughout this argument. "Jared, obnoxious shit stain he may be, is not Gavin's biggest problem."

"Oh please Simon. Enlighten me."

"It's Ezekiel, and everyone on his crew. I'm willing to wager there are a lot of hurt feelings right now, particularly when it comes to the kid."

"What's your damn point?"

There was a pause now, and Carrie could imagine all of them waiting with bated breath much like she was. Her mind was reeling with each iota of information. Something had gone wrong during a tribute meeting with the Kingdom, and two of them had been shot, including a kid. Benjamin? He was Carl's friend there, and he was on the tribute team that met with Gavin. When had this happened? Was this what prevented them from bringing Brea to the Alexandria almost two weeks ago?

"Perhaps it's time to renegotiate the lay of the land," Simon gently suggested. "Wipe the slate clean and start afresh."

"In what capacity?" Gavin suspiciously asked.

"It won't be easy, but perhaps do away with Ezekiel and the deal we made way back when. If you go in with the right stage picture, a thick, veiny show of force surrounding you when you lay the law down with these people…I think things go back to copacetic."

Negan scoffed, unimpressed. "Sounds to me like you just wanna swing your dick around, just so you can show it to someone."

"Well what's the point in having a dick worth showing if you don't show it?" Simon argued, slapping his palm on the table. "When we made this shit ass deal with them we met their conditions because we didn't have enough to force their hand. Now we do. So let's proudly swing our dick around and see if they're willing to choke on it."

"And, if they're not?" Paula asked.

"If they're not...then we take a flyer to Ezekiel and his little tribute group. We kill everyone. An unfortunate play if you ask me, but we renegotiate the right deal and achieve equilibrium," he stated proudly. "No more business of their territory lines and where we can and can't go in the city. No more missing rockmelons an-"

Carrie barely stifled a yelp, the sound of a loud bang from inside the room taking her by surprise. She felt herself break out into tremors, for she didn't need to hear it again to know that Negan had swung Lucille, that he had hit something. She waited in paralysed terror, braced for the sounds of screaming, of something crying out in pain from a blow to the head, but none came. Instead Negan swung Lucille again, and when she heard the echo of the metal table she managed to draw breath. She could hear him murmuring something, and then without warning he hit the table a third time, and a fourth, shouting at his men with every strike.

"People are the foundation, of what we are building!" he roared at them, still striking the table.

There came a terrible silence now, Carrie still trembling outside the door.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" he demanded, lowering his voice. "Are you confused about who we are? Are you confused about who is in charge? Are we backsliding, Simon?" he asked next, his voice threatening and dangerous. "Please tell me we're not backsliding."

"We're not backsliding," Simon replied, sounding chastised. "This is a pronounced event, and a fragile moment."

"Simon…a small leak, can sink a great ship. You've got a history for making a whole lot o' small leaks in my ship!"

Deciding she had stayed too long already, Carrie slowly backed away from the door and then fled, wanting to get the hell out of there. With every strike of the bat on the table she felt her body jolt, remembering the way the ground shook beneath her with every strike of the bat on Abraham's head, remembering the sound of the bat swooshing through the air. Her heart was racing and hands shaky, and as she walked she looked over her shoulder, paranoid that somehow they knew she was out there eavesdropping.

She walked faster than she had in days, wanting to get far away from Negan and his meeting. Instead she decided to do what she had intended all along. She had followed Laura to that meeting simply to see where she was going, to make sure she was actually joining them. Now that she knew Laura was occupied she made her way to the place the wives had jokingly coined Rape Alley. One level above the basement cells were the rooms to which people used to trade sex for goods before Negan took over and forbade the practice. Now it housed the rooms his top men and woman lived in, rooms that according to Negan were not good enough for her to occupy during her time here.

As she made her way through these corridors she was soon faced with David making his way towards her, and so she braced herself for the encounter. Yet despite the creepy feeling she always got from him he did nothing other than nod his head in acknowledgement as he passed her by. He didn't ask what she was doing down there, they never did, and she maintained the pretence of walking around like she owned the place. She was allowed to go wherever the hell she wanted, and so long as that was the facade she maintained, that's what people saw.

The moment David had turned the corner Carrie slowed to a stop, one hand cupping her belly to support it. She backtracked the way she had come, having been forced to walk past the door to Laura's living quarters. Having spent days wandering the Sanctuary she knew the layout well, and had frequently seen Laura coming and going from this particular room. Knowing she had to be bold she didn't allow herself to hesitate or linger in the corridor. Her heart was in her throat when she made her move and opened the door, glad to find it unlocked, but she didn't let her guard down until she stepped inside and saw the room was unoccupied.

As she closed the door behind herself she allowed herself a moment to collect her thoughts. An excuse had been on the tip of her tongue should she have found anyone in here, a claim that she was simply looking for the bathroom more than likely to be believed. None of these Saviours knew what she was up to, and none of them saw her as anything other than Rick Grimes' pregnant wife. They had no idea of who she really was behind this facade, of who she was willing to become to protect herself and her people.

Pushing all thoughts of Negan's meeting and what she had overheard out of her mind, she cast her eyes around Laura's living quarters, rather impressed by the living conditions of Negan's top people. The room was lit by a series of the square paned windows at the ceiling line, and though like the rest of the Sanctuary they were dusty on the outside, they admitted a pleasantly filtered light into the room. On the opposite wall was a small kitchen made up of countertop and open shelves, a microwave, toaster oven and mini fridge completing the set up. Intrigued, Carrie wandered over to the kitchen and opened the mini fridge, not at all surprised by what she found.

Wedged in the small ice box at the top was a bottle of vodka, and so it was to the block of chocolate on the top shelf that she turned her attention to. Hershey's Cookie and Cream, a few pieces of that hit the spot just right, and it didn't matter that she could get this herself from the kitchens, it tasted far better for the mere fact that she was stealing it from Laura. Thirsty now, she took a juice box from the door and stuck the straw in, happily drinking it. She didn't even like grape juice, but she relished the notion that she was taking this from Laura…the bitch deserved it.

As she drank she looked around some more, observing the room. It was nothing special, but Laura kept it in relatively good order. The bed was unmade, but the bookshelf housing books and DVDs was neatly organised and free of dust, as was the television in the corner and the comfortable armchair that sat opposite. The walls were bare of decorations but for a single poster of The Butterfly Effect, her taste in music surprising Carrie.

Not wanting to waste time she went to the bookshelf and searched for whatever she could find, for although Laura had the blue ledger with her right now, she had seen that it was specifically labelled as belonging to the Sanctuary. To her that seemed to indicate there would be other ledgers too…was Laura in charge of record keeping for all the outposts? If that wasn't the case, then why had Regina needed to ask her for extra ammunition rations? It seemed to be that Laura was the Olivia of the Sanctuary, tasked with handling all record keeping, distributing supplies among the outposts and negotiating Negan's points for workers at the Sanctuary.

Determined to search every inch of this room if she had to, Carrie turned her attention to the other door, glad to find a dark storage closet on the other side. There was no light in there, and so she pushed the door wide open as she stepped inside and looked around. On one side of the closet was a shelf that doubled as a work desk, and neatly arranged in the far corner were five coloured folders, but it wasn't to them that Carrie gave her attention first. The opposite side of the closet was occupied by a single tension rod upon which Laura hung some of her clothing, and tucked into the far corner behind a heavy winter jacket was a white garment bag. Intrigued, Carrie pulled aside the other clothing to get a better look at it, and when she saw the name Kelly Faetanini printed on the front she lunged for the zip and opened it.

She gasped in awe, the garment bag revealing a stunning wedding dress. It hung on a plastic bust to maintain the shape, the strapless bodice a metallic gold with sweetheart neckline, cinched at the waist above the enormous skirt adorned with white feathers. Unable to help herself Carrie looked the wedding dress up and down, touching the fine feathers and admiring the craftsmanship. This dress must be worth thousands, and it had to be one hell of an effort to get it through the outbreak in such pristine condition.

Not caring that she was snooping, Carrie looked into the bottom of the garment bag and found a pair of gold high heeled shoes, and written in glitter gel beneath the arches were the words Mrs Taylor. There was a beaded coin purse too, with two gold wedding rings and a delicate engagement ring lovingly kept. As she looked at the items she wished she could say that she felt heartbroken for Laura, for though she wondered if she ever got to wear her wedding dress to marry her fiancé, a larger part of her didn't give a shit. Laura was not a person she cared about. Hell, Laura wasn't even a person to her. She was a Saviour, her captor. In a way she liked that Laura had kept her wedding dress throughout the last three years, that she had preserved it so lovingly…she hoped it still hurt.

Feeling a small amount of vindication, Carrie returned all items to their place in the garment bag and zipped it up, for though she'd enjoy the satisfaction of flushing those rings down the toilet, more important was the necessity of keeping her presence here an absolute secret. If Laura noticed her precious memories missing a great deal of suspicion would come down on everyone, including herself. So instead she moved all the clothes back to how she had found them, taking one last look at the garment bag before turning to the ledgers awaiting her attention.

She sat down at Laura's chair, breathing a massive sigh of relief to be off her feet. While the baby made its presence known by stretching out and using her diaphragm for play, Carrie turned her attention to the folders, recognising two names on the spine but not the others. Gavin - Chemical Plant. Paula - Satellite Station. These two outposts Lana had warned them of before her death, but the others? Regina - Shepherd Plaza. Simon - FedEx Centre. These must have been established after Lana had left the Saviours.

Opening the folder to the Paula - Satellite Station ledger first, Carrie flicked through a few pages and familiarised herself with the contents. It took a few minutes to figure out what it all was and how it was arranged, but it quickly became apparent that the vast majority was dedicated to the points status of various workers at the station. As she looked up and down one page belonging to someone named Primo, she noted his finishing tally for each month dating back for over a year. It was now that she began to frown, not quite understanding. The final tally for each month was signed by both Laura and Paula, the Saviours surprisingly dedicated to paperwork and documentation, but further down the list was Simon's signature in place of Paula's.

Putting the pieces together she took the ledger Simon - FedEx Centre, and opened that next, and then it began to make sense. The first entries signed by Simon at the FedEx Centre came a week following his final entries at the Satellite Station. He was the Lieutenant who established the Satellite Station as a Saviour outpost, eventually handing over leadership to Paula so that he could move on to establish another. But the more she kept digging the more intrigued she became by the Satellite Station's ledger. Though Simon had established the outpost, there was an absence of two months a little over a year ago. For those two months Paula had signed, covering her boss while he was absent for an extended period of time…where was he then? What had happened?

Trying not to get too caught up in the mystery of it all, Carrie took out her notepad and started writing down everything she could conclude from each ledger. Names, locations, the number of people, the workers and the management, the inventory of non-perishable foods and supplies. She wrote down everything she could, erring the line between writing quickly and writing legibly. As she finished each ledger she tore the pages from her notepad and folded them up, tucking them safely into the cup of her bra where she also kept Fat Joey's keys. The Saviours didn't frisk her anymore, not one of them had put their hands on her since she had moved in with the wives. It was safer to keep contraband hidden safely in her bra than it was to hide it in her bedroom.

The sound of a commotion broke her out of her concentration, her pen stopping on the page as she looked up and listened. In the corridors outside she could hear people running and shouting, sounding alarmed. For a moment she listened to them in trepidation, and though she needed the light to see she reached over and pushed the door halfway closed. She waited with bated breath, the sound of the commotion ceasing for a few moments before starting up again, and then without warning the door to Laura's room burst open.

"Laura!" someone shouted, coming inside. "Laura, have you seen Ale…fuck!"

Carrie went completely still, holding her breath so that not even the hint of a shadow moving would draw attention towards the closet. She needn't have worried though, for the person was only in there for a split second. Upon finding Laura not to be there they left as quickly as they arrived, swearing and loudly slamming the door in their haste. In their wake they left only silence and her racing heart.

Clearing her throat, Carrie pulled the door open a little further to let more light in, and then she resumed her former task. She was tearing paper from her notepad in chunks, doing her best to keep things numbered and orderly, and she figured she might have to rewrite these notes under the covers of her bed that night.

Having taken down the most important details of the outposts she put everything back in order and then turned to the fifth folder, the only one whose spine was not marked with a name and location. She glanced at the watch that Tanya had given her a few days ago, wondering how much she dared to push her luck. Risking it, she opened the folder and looked at the contents, and it was then her jaw dropped in astonishment. It was a current lust of all the weapons and guns at each outpost…and more. There were more locations, more outposts scattered all around, but they must not be manned full time. There was no corresponding ledger of points for these locations, just pages upon pages of weapons, some guns she didn't even recognise the names of.

For more than a minute she simply flicked through the pages, trying to decide how to make note of all this on her small notepad. There were too many names, too many weapons to write down, and so she forced herself to quickly decide on the locations. Her heart was racing with exhilaration as she wrote down each name and location she saw throughout the pages, the locations of the Saviour's weapons caches. When she had finished noting all of the locations she scanned each list, noting down the name of every weapon she was unfamiliar with.

In the very back in a tab of its own was a section dedicated to ammunition, this resource kept separate from the weapons listed up front. Just as she had overheard in the meeting the Saviours were facing an ammunition shortage, for although they had the guns it seemed they didn't have the ammunition to match. Nevertheless what they did have was nothing to be overlooked. They had plenty of firepower behind them, her eyes bulging at the calibers listed.

As the questions started coming, Carrie began to feel nervous. She checked her watch again, conscious of how much time she had spent in here. Laura was liable to come back here at any minute now, or another person who was still looking for her. It was time to go, a notion supported by the fact that she desperately needed to pee again. Going about the process methodically Carrie again tore the notes from the pages of her notepad and carefully stowed them in her bra, and then she returned everything to the precise position in which she had found it. The ledgers went back to the corner in order, the chair retuned to the exact spot in which the legs dented the carpet, and then she closed the closet door behind herself.

Back in Laura's bedroom she looked around once more, and then she went to the trash can in which she had tossed the now empty juice box. Picking through it all she took a few pieces of trash and moved them on top of the juice box, trying to hide the evidence of her theft. When she was satisfied she crept back to the door and listened for sounds coming from the other side. As she waited for her moment she gave her cleavage bit of a shake, making sure Fat Joey's keys weren't jangling together. Only when she was satisfied that there was no one outside did she take the risk of stepping out.

Just as it had been when she entered Laura's room, the corridor outside was completely empty. Beginning to regret the grape juice, for she didn't need to put more pressure on her poor bladder, she hastily made her way towards the stairs that would take her up to the nearest restroom. As she walked she took a few moments to feel proud of herself, for despite the huge risk she had just taken she looked calm and collected on the outside. When she had been laying in bed last night thinking about this plan she had not been at all calm about it, but somehow she had managed to pull it off. Much like bringing food and water to Daryl gave her a sense of purpose around here, so too did taking action to resolve their situation. Stealing Fat Joey's keys yesterday had been a boost to her confidence, and had compelled her to realise that she was not completely helpless as she once felt. Her priority above all was to ensure her baby was born safely, preferably at home with Rick by her side, but that didn't exclude her from trying to help Daryl, nor from trying to learn as much information about the Saviours as possible.

When she reached the ground floor the restroom was within sight, but to her frustration Arat appeared at the end of the corridor, giving a low cry of frustration upon seeing her. She raised her handheld radio to her mouth, speaking into it as she broke into a run and rushed over to her.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded, her curly hair bouncing as she slowed to a stop. "Huh, Alexandria? Where have you been?"

Carrie just raised her eyebrows at her, not at all liking the demand. "Walking."

"We've been looking for you fucking everywhere!" she said loudly, looking her up and down in disdain.

Carrie just looked at her expectantly. "Well, here I am. What do you want?"

"Negan wants to see you upstairs," she said, taking her by the arm and trying to turn her around. "Now. Come on."

"Wait, hang on a second," she said in outrage, shrugging her arm out of Arat's grip.

"He's waiting for you."

Carrie turned on her heel and made her way down the corridor in the opposite direction. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Can't you just hold it?" she said urgently following her and stepping in front of her. She looked pissed, her cheeks red from the exertion of searching for her.

"No! If you make me hold it I'll probably pee myself!"

Arat just looked at her in exasperation, closing her eyes for a moment. "Fat Jesus," she muttered, shaking her head to herself. "Go. Hurry up."

Somewhat amused to find Arat so frazzled, for she normally exuded an air of calm resting bitch face, Carrie made her way into the bathroom. Happy to stress Arat out even more she lingered longer than necessary, stroking her belly in the privacy of the cubicle. It was so strange to feel the baby kicking up around her ribs and diaphragm, but every movement came with the reminder that it had safely turned, that she didn't have to face the prospect of delivering it breech. Everything was going to play out exactly the way she needed it to, of that she was certain. Today had been a good day. That wasn't going to change.

"Come on!" Arat said angrily, coming into the bathroom now. "He's waiting for you."

"Alright, alright."

Not daring to push her any further, Carrie finished up and then washed her hands, disappointed to see that Arat looked somewhat calmer now that she was cooperating. Her resting bitch face had returned, but she at least didn't grab her by the arm as they made their way through the Sanctuary and up to where Negan would be awaiting her. As they walked she mentally prepared herself to face him, already knowing what this was about. He was going to stop her from seeing Daryl, and he had probably found out about the blankets she had managed to give him. He'd be annoyed, probably throw his weight around a little to remind her of who was in charge, but she was not going to be in any danger. She already knew that where she was concerned she was immune to almost anything. She wouldn't be punished, and instead this would be an opportunity for them to talk things through, to negotiate Daryl's conditions…it would be like trying to talk to a brick wall, but she would try nonetheless.

Ascending the final set of stairs she paused to catch her breath, ignoring the way Arat rolled her eyes impatiently, and then she made her way towards the corridor leading to Negan's room. He was waiting there outside the double doors that led to his room, the doors leading to the wive's quarters a little further down. Standing there with him was Simon, both of them in deep discussion about something of importance, but the moment he saw her coming he turned all his attention to her. His face lit up and his eyes widened, and he looked genuinely delighted to see her.

"There you are!" he claimed jovially, clapping his hands together. "We've been searching every nook, cranny and asshole for you!"

Apparently not. "Well, here I am."

"Here you are indeed," he agreed, grinning at her. "Boy, do I have a surprise for you."

As she slowed to a stop she began to feel unnerved, the way he grinned at her with such delight making her feel highly uncomfortable. She looked at Arat behind her, trying to understand what was going on. He wouldn't be greeting her like this if he wanted to talk about Daryl.

"I don't like surprises."

"Oh, but I do," he said, practically rubbing his hands together. "You're not gonna like it one fucking bit, but I do."

Simon cleared his throat, glancing at her before getting Negan's attention. "It's a go, then? Green light?"

"Indeed it is, Simon," Negan declared, clasping him on the shoulder. "Go on now, get down there and set this up."

Looking pleased with the answer, Simon nodded and turned to Arat. "I'll need your help," he told her, walking past Carrie. "You and Laura."

They set off together down the hall, leaning close and talking amongst themselves before disappearing around the corner. Left standing there alone with Negan an awkward silence ensued, and she looked up at him in apprehension. Something had made him very happy, and sure as hell that wasn't good for her. She felt gooseflesh rising on her skin, nervous at the way he grinned at her, so pleased to have her there.

Perhaps he could see how nervous she had become, for he now came a little closer, his grin softening into a somewhat gentler smile. "I hope you got your shittin' pants on."

She blinked, looking up at him in confusion. "What?"

"Your shittin' pants," he repeated. "I hope you're wearing them right now. Because you," he began, opening his bedroom door and stepping inside. "Are about to shit your pants."


A/N So in my opinion one of my more interesting chapters in terms of what trouble Carl is getting himself into, and what Carrie has been learning. She is definitely looking for every advantage she can get here at the Sanctuary, but it's not going to last for long!

Hope you enjoyed Carl's POV and the Saviours meeting - I'm sure we can all guess the surprise Negan has for Carrie.