Well DAMN
This is certainly an eventful chapter.
holy SHIT I'm tired.
Anyway, please enjoy, and if you see any errors somewhere in the text, please let me know.
He's alive; he's alive; he's alive-
His hands were trembling.
My son is alive.
Rick could hardly breathe.
Carl is alive.
Rick should be overjoyed right now. He should be crying tears of joy - he should be happy. His son was alive - that was a miracle by itself, especially in a world like this one. His son had escaped the prison after the Governor's attack. He had survived the past eight or so years despite the many odds stacked against him - Carl was alive; he was living and breathing, and Rick should be happy. He should be packing his things to go out and try to find his son or running to try and find Michonne to tell her the good news, but right now, all Rick could feel was anger.
Angry: Rick was angry at Daryl for hiding the fact that his son was alive despite having so many chances to tell him. At the Governor for separating him and Carl in the first place and causing so much grief and loss and pain within Rick and his family - at Alpha for finding his son before he could and keeping him alive better than Rick had been able to. At Lydia for wearing that godforsaken hat even if she couldn't have known what it meant to him... He was so pissed off at so many people for so many reasons, but most importantly, Rick was pissed off with himself.
He was pissed off because he had never looked harder - had never tried looking for his son after what happened at Grady. He had given up on Carl: he had believed his son to be dead without any real evidence. Rick had left his son for dead, had left him all alone to fend for himself. His son had lost an eye, had various scars all over his body, and had gone through who knows what over the past eight years, all because Rick just hadn't looked hard enough. And what's worse? Rick had lost Carl mere days after finding him again.
Carl is Delta.
Delta is Carl.
My son is the same man who we traded to Alpha.
Rick stared at his violently shaking hands, disbelief flowing through him.
How could he have been so blind? So stupid?
There had been so many signs that Rick had just ignored, things Rick had seen but had brushed off as hallucinations simply because he had been so afraid of being let down again. But now he couldn't stop thinking about it. Because how... how could that be? How could Carl be the same person who Rick had found creeping around the bridge less than a week ago? How could his son be the same man Rick had threatened to kill - the same man Rick had taken hostage and interrogated? How could Carl be the enemy?
But most importantly, how could Rick have not recognized his own son?
Sure, it had been eight years, but if Daryl had been able to figure out who Carl was in less than three days, why couldn't Rick?
Rick took in a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his tear-stained face. He didn't know why he was asking himself this; he already knew. Carl had been a child the last time Rick had seen him, merely fourteen or so years old. But now, his son was an adult - adulthood always changes people. And Daryl had always been a hundred times more observant than everyone else Rick knew, including himself, so of course his brother could have figured it out before anyone else did.
But that didn't wash away any of the guilt. It didn't change the fact that Rick hadn't recognized his own child. Didn't change the fact that Carl was back in the hands of the enemy. Didn't change the fact that, after nearly a decade of grieving for him, Rick had lost Carl once again. It didn't take away the words Rick had said to him, didn't take away the things he had done and-
Oh god - Rick had hit Carl.
He had hit... he had... He had hit his son. Had hit him hard enough to leave a bruise. An image of Carl's face mere moments after the strike had landed came to mind - he had looked shocked, dazed, hurt, and even... there had even been a hint of fear in his son's expression. Rick felt sick to his stomach, and the whole world appeared to be spinning as he lurched over on his hands and knees and vomited all over the infirmary floor, his stomach contracting painfully.
The taste of vomit in his mouth was disgusting, but Rick couldn't stop. Eyes closed, he heaved and heaved until there wasn't anything left to throw up. Then, Rick fell back onto his knees, body shaking. A shiver ran down his spine, and he took in a shaky breath, staring at the mess he made with wide eyes. His hands were trembling, and that realization was followed by another, equally as chilling one.
His hands hadn't trembled in a long time.
"Dad?"
Rick's head jerked up so fast he could have sworn he heard a crack. His eyes dart around the room frantically, eventually landing on the small figure in the doorway. As soon as he saw who it was, Rick felt most of the tension leave his body, and he stumbled to his feet, his legs already threatening to fail beneath him.
"Judith, what are you doing here?" Rick asked hoarsely, wiping a hand across his mouth.
"Mom is looking for you," The girl answered simply, tilting her head as she took a step inside. His daughter's eyebrows were furrowed, dark eyes staring curiously up at Rick. The expression on her face was eerily similar to the look Carl would get around her age whenever he got confused about something, which at the time was usually math or some other kind of schoolwork. That realization was followed by a fresh wave of pain.
"Is she now?" Rick asked, trying hard to keep his voice from shaking.
Judith nodded, turning around and quickly closing the infirmary door. She turned back. "She said you were probably done talking to Daryl and that I should come and get you." At the mention of the archer's name, Rick flinched, something that clearly did not go unnoticed by Judith if the narrowing of her eyes said anything about it. Her gaze then wandered down to the pile of vomit on the floor, and her eyes widened. "Are you sick?"
"I'm fine, little bird," Rick said dismissively, giving her a smile, though it came out as more of a grimace if anything, "I think it was something I ate. Nothing to worry about."
Judith didn't look the slightest bit convinced. "You look like shit," she deadpanned, and in any other situation, Rick would have scolded her for swearing, but he didn't have the energy to do that right now.
"I know," he said instead because honestly, he didn't doubt it.
Judith's eyes narrowed again, clearly sensing that something was off. She had always been observant like that. "Uh-huh."
Rick sighed, taking a few steps forward and kneeling down in front of her. "Judith, really, I'm fine. Just..." he paused, struggling for the right words, "-just thinking about the past, I suppose."
Understanding immediately filled Judith's eyes. "Oh," she said, eyes dropping down to her feet, "okay..." There was a look of uncertainty on her face, and Rick could tell that she still wasn't entirely convinced. Despite that, she didn't ask any more questions about it. That itself was enough for Rick.
He was prepared to get up again - to clean his mess up and go find Michonne - when suddenly, Judith darted forward, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. Taken by surprise, Rick stiffened for a split second, but once he realized what she was doing, he didn't hesitate to return the favor. He pressed a kiss to her hair, trying to draw some kind of comfort as thoughts about his son raced through his mind.
After a few seconds, Judith moved away. "Is that better?" She asked.
"Much better," Rick said, smiling at her again. This one felt a little more real.
Despite managing to convince his daughter he was fine, he knew that Michonne would never fall for the same act. And as expected, the moment Rick had entered the living room with Judith, his wife immediately sensed that something was wrong. Michonne turned away from where she had been wiping what looked like dirt off of RJ's face. She stared at Rick for a long moment, her lips pursed as she looked him up and down - there's a question in her eyes. Are you okay?
Rick gave a small, nearly undetectable shake of his head. He didn't see the point of lying about it, especially to her; Rick knew that hiding Carl's identity from Michonne would be impossible. She would see right through any lie he tried to give. And Rick didn't want to hide it from her anyway - she and Carl had been pretty close back at the prison. Michonne deserved to know.
Though her eyes flickered with concern and worry, she didn't say anything out loud. Instead, she turned to Judith, saying something about needing to cut her hair. Rick breathed a sigh of relief as Judith began to protest. He was glad that Michonne didn't choose to ask him about it now - Rick didn't think that having that conversation in front of the kids was a good idea. While a large part of him knew that Judith and RJ would want to know that their older brother was alive, he didn't want to get their hopes up if something... if something... if bad happened to Carl.
Rick took in a shaky breath.
"Daddy, Daddy, look!" RJ cried out, running right up to Rick and holding out a piece of paper. "Look at what I drawed!"
"Drew not drawed," Judith corrected. RJ ignored her.
Rick kneeled down in front of his youngest son, smiling as he took the drawing into his hands. It didn't take long for him to realize what it was. "A rainbow? Very cool, RJ!" His gaze darted all over the paper, eventually landing on the six stick figures standing in the middle right below the rainbow. "Is this us?"
"Mhm!" RJ nodded rapidly, moving to Rick's side. "That's Mama, that's you-" he pointed to the tallest figure, "-the one right there is Judith, and that's me-" he then directed a chubby finger at the smallest stick figure, a proud smile on his face. Rick couldn't help but compare the look on RJ's face to how Carl looked at his age. Despite their many differences in appearance, they both shared the same smile.
"And who are these two?" Rick asked, pointing to the last two figures. One was the same size as RJ, while the other was only a little shorter than Michonne. The longer he stared, Rick began to realize just who they were. "Is this Andre and Carl?" His voice cracked a bit when he said his son's name, and when he glanced up, he saw Michonne stiffen for a split second at the mention of Andre.
RJ nodded again, looking a tad nervous. "Yeah. Do... do you like it?"
He smiled down at RJ, trying to appear reassuring when really, his heart was shattering into pieces. "I love it." He pressed a kiss to his son's forehead. "It looks just like them."
Once again, RJ beamed. "I made more! Do you want to see?"
"I would love to!" Rick agreed, and RJ's whole face lit up.
"I left them in my room, c'mon!" RJ grabbed Rick's hand, tugging on it insistently. Rick climbed up to his feet, letting RJ pull him to the door. Before they left the room, Rick glanced over at Michonne, who met his gaze calmly. She made a quick gesture toward the door with her hand, one so fast that he probably would have missed if he hadn't known her for as long as he had. He knew what it meant, or at least, he had an idea.
We'll talk about it later.
And so they would.
RJ was a very artistic kid, and that was something that Rick had known for quite a while - his son loved to draw, and a good portion of his drawings were hung up all over the house. Rick just hadn't realized exactly how much he drew until he was in his room, looking through the large chest Beth had found on a run a few years ago for RJ to store his things.
It was nearly filled to the brim with drawings.
It took an hour to get through half of them. And by that time, Rick needed some air. Needed to get outside. Needed to talk to Michonne. Rick couldn't stay in there for another hour. There was too much on his mind.
Still, he stuck around for a little longer before leaving RJ to play with his toys. He went down the stairs, pausing as soon as his foot landed on the last step. His eyes landed on an old photograph they had hung on the wall - crumpled and worn with age, but the contents of it were enough to make his heart shatter all over again.
It's a photo of Rick, Lori, and Carl. The one that Carl had found sometime after Lori had died. Judith deserves to know what her mother looks like. That's what his son had said when he had shown it to Rick, or at least, something like it. Little did they know that, nearly a decade later, that photo would be the only reason Judith and RJ even knew what their brother looked like.
Maybe that wouldn't be the case for much longer.
Rick stayed there for five minutes, just staring at their smiling faces who had no idea how horribly their lives were about to change. When had they even taken that? He couldn't remember.
He had changed so much since then...
His mind wandered to Carl, to the young man that Rick had captured at the bridge and then to the twelve-year-old boy he had been when the world first went to shit.
They all had changed so much...
Rick tore his eyes away after a few minutes, taking in a shuddering breath.
That's when Michonne appeared.
She turned the corner, and as soon as she spotted him, her brows furrowed. Then, her gaze landed on the photograph.
For a few seconds, the two of them were silent.
Michonne cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "Judith's outside playing with Gracie."
"That's good," Rick said, "RJ's playing with his toys upstairs."
Michonne nodded, eyes drifting toward the staircase.
"Rick..?" She said softly, her eyes filled with concern.
Rick stared at her. "Chonne..."
"What's wrong...?" Rick looked away, already feeling the tears welling up in his eyes. Michonne rested a hand on his shoulder, and when he looked at her, the expression on her face was one of worry. "Baby, talk to me."
"I-" Rick swallowed down the lump in his throat. His hands have already started shaking again. "Carl's alive," he choked out.
"Wh...what..?" Michonne pulled her hand away from his shoulder, her face slack with shock. But as soon as she registered what he said, her expression melted into one of disbelief and confusion. Then, her eyes hardened, and she put a hand on his arm. "Rick... tell me what happened," she whispered.
"Daryl... he told me-" he cut himself off, his throat closing as he struggled to get the words out, "Delta is Carl. Daryl somehow found out at some point and..." Rick squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his composure shatter for the second time that day, "he hid it from me, Chonne... the only reason I found out was because I saw that girl - Lydia - wearing Carl's old hat and-"
Rick buried his head in his hands. "I left him, Michonne. I left my son all alone out there when I could've kept looking! I... I fucking hit him."
He felt Michonne put a hand on his back. "You couldn't have known," she whispered, her voice unbelievably soft.
"Did you see him?" Rick whispered. "He was covered in scars, Chonne. His eye is missing!"
Just thinking about what his son might have gone through over the past eight-ish years made his heart crack and his guilt grow. What happened to Carl's eye? How did he get those burns? And Daryl had mentioned the scars he had seen on Carl's arms when he had moved him to the cellar - his son had cut himself at one point. And the lash marks Daryl had seen on both Lydia and Carl's arms... they had to have been caused by a person.
Rick swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat.
While Rick had been living life happily in Alexandria with Michonne, Judith, RJ, and everyone else, Carl had been out there surviving by the skin of his teeth. While Rick had a warm bed to sleep in and four walls surrounding him, Carl slept in the dirt and didn't even have fences to keep the walkers away. While Rick had multiple warm meals every day, his son had been thin as a stick and obviously didn't get enough food. While Rick had his friends and family with him, the people Carl was with were batshit crazy - and their leader, Alpha or some shit, clearly harmed the members of her group.
Carl had gone through so much simply because Rick hadn't tried looking harder.
This was all his fault.
Michonne was quiet for a few seconds. He wondered what she was thinking.
Then, she hugged him.
"I know what you're thinking right now," she whispered into his ear, "but it's not true. It's the Governor's fault, not yours."
Rick sniffed, biting down on the inside of his mouth hard enough to bleed. The metallic liquid seeped onto his tongue. "I can't... I can't believe he's still alive after all this time..." he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I mean, a part of me always hoped that one day he would come walking through those gates, but I knew that would never happen. I guess I just thought..."
Michonne squeezed him tighter, holding him closer as Rick struggled to get the right words out. When he didn't speak for a minute or two, she pulled away slightly, and when Rick opened his eyes, she's looking up at him with the saddest of expressions. She placed a hand on his cheek, and to his surprise, he could see tears shining in her eyes.
She brushed away the curls falling in his eyes. Leaned up and pressed a kiss to his temple.
That's when Rick broke.
His legs failed beneath him, and he collapsed onto the floor, accidentally bringing Michonne down with him. She didn't seem to care, however - just holding him in her arms as he broke down for the second time that day. Sobs force their way out of him, and at this point, he didn't try to hold them back. He just cried and cried and cried - gasping and nearly choking on his own sobs as everything around him seemed to shatter.
"It's going to be okay," Michonne whispered, and it took him a second to realize that she's crying too, "he's going to be okay. We all are."
The sun was high in the sky now, and it wasn't nearly as windy as it was yesterday, which was a relief. Lydia kept her hair in a ponytail just in case things got bad again, though. She didn't want to accidentally eat her hair every few seconds whenever it blew into her face. That was an experience she did not want to repeat anytime soon; thank you very much.
The group kept a slow pace as they walked through the woods, mainly because no one wanted to push Henry or Hershel too far. While Hershel wasn't injured like Henry was, the kid had smaller legs, and he was also walking slower than he usually did - though that might be because he was worrying about Glenn, who they had left at Alexandria to heal.
Lydia walked a few feet behind Daryl, who was at the front of the group. The archer hadn't said a single word to any of them since they had started walking - Lydia could tell that he had something on his mind. Daryl had been acting weird for over a day now, and she hadn't been blind to the way that Michonne had glared at the man when she had been seeing them off - something had happened, but she wasn't sure what that 'something' was.
Lydia glanced behind her, meeting the gaze of Henry, who was near the back of the group with Connie - the woman was letting the blond lean on her to help him walk. Henry gave her a small smile, which Lydia nervously returned. She then looked back to where Daryl was. Before she could convince herself not to, she found herself jogging up to the archer, who looked up at her approach.
"What?" The man grunted, looking annoyed.
"What did you talk to Rick about?" Lydia asked, referring to yesterday when the two men had sent both Henry and Lydia away to talk. That was around the time that Daryl started acting weird if she was remembering things correctly. Which she was.
Daryl stiffened almost instantly. "None of yer damn business," he practically snarled.
Lydia frowned but pressed on nonetheless. "Was it about Delta?" Should she start calling him Carl?
Daryl glared at her. "I said, it's none of yer damn business."
"Okay then," Lydia said, sensing that this was most likely the end of the conversation. That meant she probably shouldn't push it.
To her surprise, though - it wasn't.
After a few minutes of silence, Daryl cleared his throat, quickly catching Lydia's attention. "How long he been with you guys, anyway?" It didn't take long for her to realize what he was asking. Or who he was asking about.
Lydia shrugged, knowing better than to try and count the years. The math often gave her a headache, something that Delta would always laugh about. Math fucking sucks; she remembered him saying once, you're lucky you never had to learn multiplication. "I dunno, couple years, definitely. He was one of the first members. Beta found him, actually."
"Really?" Daryl asked, picking up his pace somewhat. If the archer was at all surprised by this new information, he didn't let it show.
"Yeah," Lydia confirmed, quickening her strides to keep up with him, "don't ask me how. I really can't remember all that well. I just know that Delta was with a group that was killed by another group and that Beta found him injured in the forest." She chose not to mention that by 'injured,' she meant 'missing an eye and unconscious.'
"What's with the title 'Delta,' why do they call him that?" Daryl asked next, glancing down at her as they walked, "-sounds kinda stupid."
Is this turning into an interrogation now? Lydia pondered. "It's from the Greek alphabet, I think." Or at least, that's what her mother had said the one time Lydia dared to ask about it. Lydia didn't really get the chance to learn about it before the world went to hell. "Delta is the fourth letter, and since Delta's the fourth in command..." Lydia trailed off, knowing that Daryl would get her point.
Daryl nodded, face totally blank as he processed this information. "Tha' why yer mother calls herself Alpha?"
"Yeah."
Daryl shook his head. "You people are creepy as shit, I hope you know that."
"Yeah, I know." Lydia agreed. She saw no point in arguing about it. Daryl snorted, and the two of them fell silent.
After a few minutes, Lydia found herself slowing down until she was walking beside Hershel, who was kicking up clumps of leaves and dirt with his feet. Lydia didn't think she had ever seen the kid look so sad; it was kind of unsettling. A part of her wondered if she should try and comfort him, but Lydia didn't know how to do that. Delta always had been better at the whole comforting thing than Lydia was. Should she try and talk to Hershel? Hug him, maybe?
A few more minutes passed, and finally, Lydia opened her mouth, preparing to try and talk to Hershel, when the sound of approaching horses suddenly caught her attention. She glanced around, a hand moving to her knife, and she saw that Daryl was doing the same. The man motioned for them to stop, and he peered through the branches, his whole body taut with tension.
Then, he relaxed.
The sound of horses was nearer now, and when Daryl gestured for them to start moving again. As Lydia stepped out of the trees into a small dirt pathway, two horses came into view, pulling what looked like some kind of makeshift wagon with a group of both familiar and unfamiliar faces sitting inside. Lydia recognized both Rick and Michonne among the faces, and she watched as Daryl tensed up all over again, quickly moving his gaze away from the group.
Lydia narrowed her eyes, but before she could think about the implications of this, her attention was quickly pulled away as a young girl around the age of nine or ten popped her head out from behind Michonne. The girl had long, dark hair, and something about her felt eerily familiar to Lydia, though she couldn't quite figure out why.
"Anyone headed to Kingdom?" The girl asked, grinning cheekily.
That's when the realization slammed into her.
Oh.
Daryl knew at this point to expect the worst out of every situation. Ever since he was a child, it had been ingrained into his mind.
No matter how perfect something seems, all it takes for one small thing to make it all go wrong - like how the weakest of winds could send a house of cards toppling down.
He had been hoping that wouldn't be the case for the fair - that things would be okay for once, but he should have fucking known.
Things started off pretty okay at first. In fact, it started off wonderfully. People were laughing and having fun - kids were running around as their parents watched on fondly. Daryl spent some time with Beth and Anne, talked to Judith for a bit, and in all, everything seemed like it would go well. He even saw Henry showing Lydia around at one point, and the two teens had been smiling.
But of course, things couldn't have stayed that way. They just had to go wrong.
Hilltop could possibly be in danger. Obviously, Maggie and Tara would not stand for this, and the leaders had all come to an agreement to send a small group of soldiers to Hilltop to keep it safe if the skin freaks decided to attack. Daryl, Carol, Michonne, Rick, and a couple others had left to go to Hilltop, and that was why he was riding through the forest on his motorbike as Michonne glared holes into his back while Rick pretty much refused to look at him.
If Carol noticed the tension hanging in the air, which she definitely did, she didn't say a word about it. Daryl found himself both thankful and annoyed at this. Still, the journey was pretty calm besides that, but that didn't stop the guilt from growing whenever he looked at Rick or Michonne, who had obviously been informed about the situation if the way she glared at him said anything about it.
He kept his motorbike a little bit ahead of the horses, far enough away that he wouldn't be forced to talk to anyone but still close enough that he would hear if one of them shouted or needed help. Apparently, he hadn't gone far enough ahead because it only took twenty or so minutes for someone to trot up to him. And when he looked up, he was understandably surprised when he saw Rick there, sitting atop a black horse that Daryl and Aaron had caught years ago when they had first come to Alexandria. Buttons was her name - she was an older mare with gray hairs on her muzzle; a skittish thing too.
How the fucking horse had managed to survive longer than most people he knew was still a mystery to him.
"Daryl," Rick said quietly, nodding his head in greeting. His brother's face was pale, and he still refused to look Daryl in the eye, but the fact he was even talking to Daryl for some reason made up for it.
"Rick," Daryl greeted.
The two of them were silent for a minute or two.
"Gonna assume tha' Michonne knows," he said, sparing a quick glance behind him.
Rick smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, she does."
"Explains why she's glarin' at me the way she is," Daryl mused.
Another minute of silence.
Daryl couldn't stand it.
"Rick, m'sorry," Daryl found himself blurting out, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the handle of his bike, "-for not telling you 'bout Carl sooner. I know I should'a, but I didn't. And I ain't gonna try and make any excuses for what I did, cause you 'ave every reason t'be mad at me. And if y'hate me, that's fine, but I just-"
"I don't," Rick said suddenly, cutting Daryl off, "-hate you, I mean. I'm mad at you, obviously - hell, I'm fucking pissed-" Daryl flinched "-but I could never hate you." He heard Rick sigh, but he still refused to look at him. "Can you just..." his brother trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words for his question, "do you know why he didn't tell me? Why he hid everything? Was it something I did?" Rick's voice cracked as he reached the last few words, and when Daryl snuck a glance over at him, the look on his face was raw with pain.
Daryl felt his heart ache. "Nah, you didn't do nothin' wrong," he assured him, looking back toward the road, "he didn't want to hurt you." He could practically feel the look that Rick was giving him, but he ignored it, instead thinking about the conversation he and Carl had mere moments before Alpha came to Hilltops gates. "He thinks you'll hate him if ya learned about the shit he's done," he said slowly, recalling Carl's words, "told him it was bullshit, but he didn't believe me."
"He's my son," Rick whispered, his voice breaking as he spoke, "I could never hate him. I don't care that he's killed people - we all have done things we regretted." There was a pause. Then Rick whispered, "I just want to see him again..."
Oh.
Well.
That was one way to shatter Daryl's heart to pieces.
"You will," Daryl assured him, glancing over at his brother, "Carl's smart, Rick. He'll be alright. Just gotta wait."
Rick stared at him. "For how long, though?"
Daryl didn't have a response to this.
A few more minutes passed in silence, and at the end of those few minutes, they had come across a curious sight. A group of men was killing walkers, and while Daryl recognized one of the men, the rest were total strangers. And a few feet away from them was an overturned wagon, one that Daryl recognized from Hilltop.
What happened here?
Daryl got off his bike, eyes narrowing as the men approached. His hand twitched toward his belt, where he kept his knives, but Carol trotted ahead on her horse. To his surprise, she seemed to know the men and greeted them as she dismounted her horse. The rest of the group got off their horses as well, and though most of them eyed the unknown men warily, the fact that Carol knew them eased their minds a bit.
"What happened here, Ozzy?" Carol asked one of the men, eyes sweeping over the scene before her.
The man - Ozzy - gestured for the group to follow him. He led them to the overturned wagon. "We were clearing the roads," he explained, "-spotted tracks leading here."
Magna leaned down, picking up something that had been lying on the dirt. She inspected it for a few seconds, a grim look crossing her face. "It's from Hilltop," she said to the others.
"Dead didn't do this," Ozzy said, his face equally as grim, "people did."
That caught quite a few people's attention. "The skins?" Michonne asked the man now kneeling in the dirt, her eyes narrowing. "You know about them?"
"We got the download," Ozzy said, glancing around, "strange times, strange ways to cope. Anyway, yeah. That'd be my guess. If anyone else was out here, my patrols would've seen 'em. Something else... they put up a fight."
Daryl moved away from the group while Ozzy talked, eyes darting around for any possible clues to tell what happened here. It didn't take him long at all to notice the marks in the dirt - a clear sign that someone had been dragging something heavy through the undergrowth. And Daryl had seen enough of these throughout the years to know just what had been pulled through here.
"Hey," he called to the group, "drug 'em out this way." He glanced over his shoulder as Rick approached.
"Let's go," Kal said, already starting off in that direction.
"Wait, we can't all just go rushing in there," Rick said, resting a hand on Kal's shoulder to stop him, "we need to be smart about this."
"They could still be alive," Dianne, a woman from Kingdom, argued.
"But if those skin freaks followed them from Hilltop, the whole community is in danger right now," another man (Marco?) added.
The group was quiet for a second.
"So, we split up," Michonne said. Immediately, Carol started nodding her agreement.
"Michonne and I can go with Daryl and Rick. We'll track 'em," Carol said, a plan forming as she spoke, "the rest of you, go on to Hilltop."
No one was arguing. That's good.
"We'll keep our patrols around the Kingdom. Just in case," Ozzy offered, still kneeling on the ground, "course, this means you owe us a couple of movies when this is done."
The fuck was that supposed to mean?
Daryl looked to Carol, expecting some kind of explanation. The woman just smiled.
"I'm sure I can work that out."
Lydia and Henry made their way through one of the many walkways of the Kingdom, watching as people laughed and chatted with one another - there was singing in the distance, and Lydia didn't think she had ever seen the world look so at peace before in her life. With the Whisperers, there was never a moment where they could just lie around and enjoy the scenery. There was always something to be doing: hunting, herding the guardians, cooking...
But here at the fair, people didn't have a care in the world. They didn't have to worry about what might be beyond the walls: they didn't worry about looking over their shoulder every few seconds, didn't worry about being attacked suddenly... They were just living happily, something that Lydia had very, very little experience with. She could hardly remember a time before the guardians, and the memories she did have were blurred and tainted by her mother's words.
Before, she had been relieved that she couldn't remember much of the old world - her mother had taught Lydia that remembering the world before guardians was a weakness and that she should be glad to live in a world filled with only the strong. But she had heard things from the adults in her pack and a little bit from Delta, and now, as she stood in the middle of the fair with Henry, Lydia was finally starting to realize just what she missed out on - what she could still be a part of.
Lydia and Henry paused as a group of kids rushed by, laughing as they passed a ball between them. Lydia could easily recognize Hershel and Anne in the mix, and the two cousins appeared to be bickering as they ran. But there were smiles on their faces, and after witnessing how upset Hershel had been earlier, seeing the kid smiling was a comforting sight. Lydia glanced around, half expecting to see Maggie watching from a distance. She didn't see the older woman anywhere, but that didn't mean she wasn't around.
Lydia's gaze returned to the group of kids just in time to see Hershel tackle an older girl, Judith, to the ground. The two kids tumbled for a bit, and when they stopped, they both were laughing. That was another thing that lingered at the back of her mind - Judith, who Lydia was around ninety-nine percent sure was Delta's younger sister. She could certainly see the resemblance between the two. It was near uncanny, really.
Once again, a pang of sadness and worry filled her at the thought of Delta. She had been trying not to think about him for long, not wanting to let her thoughts linger on where he might be, if he was even alive. While she had first been relieved that he hadn't been with the group Beta brought, she was now starting to wish he had been there. At least then she would know whether he was okay or not.
She sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and adjusting Delta's hat on her head. A cool breeze blew past, and she took a hair tie from her wrist (given to her by Connie) and put her hair back in a ponytail. She felt Henry tap her on the shoulder, and she turned toward the blond, who was fidgeting nervously from where he stood beside her.
"Do you like it?" Henry blurted out, a faint flush covering his cheeks as they started walking again.
She smiled at him. "It's nice." She glanced around again. "How did you even get all this?"
"We, uh, gathered most of it," Henry said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "there's stuff that belongs to each community. Like Earl, he brought spears and things he, Alden, and I made back at Hilltop. Alexandria brought bullets and medicine. Oceanside brought fish-" Henry shrugged, "-they're all contributing in their own ways."
"I used to think that things like this weren't possible," she admitted, "it's nice to see I was wrong." She then snorted, a fond smile covering her face. "God, never tell Delta I admitted I was wrong about something. He'll never let me forget it."
Henry chuckled. "Your secret is safe with me."
"Oh? Are we keeping secrets now?" A third voice questioned, and the two teens jumped, whirling around. Lydia found herself relaxing when her eyes landed on Beth, who was jogging up to them, a bag filled with what was probably medical supplies pulled over her arm. Briefly, Lydia noticed Beth's gaze flickering up to Delta's hat on her head, but the action was so quick that Lydia wondered if it had even happened.
"No, Beth," Henry said as Beth pulled to a stop in front of them, "we were just joking around." Henry then frowned, glancing around the crowded fair. "I thought you were with Enid and Siddiq - didn't you guys have a station of some kind set up?"
"We do," Beth said, shrugging - the metal of the blonde's missing hand glinted in the sunlight, "but we're taking turns. We all want to spend some time doing other things, after all."
"That's fair," Henry said, "I don't think I would be able to stand behind a station all day when there's so much else to be doing."
"Exactly!" Beth exclaimed, blue eyes twinkling. Her gaze then moved to something behind Lydia. "I see the kids are having fun," She mused, lips twitching into an amused smile. Lydia glanced behind her just in time to see Anne jump onto Judith's back, and while the other girl stumbled a bit, she didn't fall.
Lydia turned back to face Beth, "seems like it."
Something in Beth's expression changed suddenly. "Have you guys seen Maggie by any chance?" She asked, eyebrows knitting together with worry. "She promised to meet me by the gate so we could spend some time together, but I can't find her anywhere."
Henry and Lydia exchanged looks.
"I think I saw her talking to Tara by the archery area," Henry said slowly, looking as if he were deep in thought, "but that was around an hour ago. So I don't know if she's still there." The worry on Beth's face only grew, and Henry quickly added: "I'm sure she's okay, though. She's probably just busy."
"Right," Beth heaved a sigh, running a hand through her hair, "well, I best be off. You guys enjoy the fair."
"You too!" Henry called as Beth began to walk away.
He turned back to Lydia, clearing his throat. "So..." he shuffled his feet nervously, "want me to show you around? We probably won't get to see the whole community in one day, but thankfully we have a few days to enjoy the fair."
Lydia smiled. "That would be nice."
Sneaking into the fair was disturbingly easy.
Like, really easy.
Obviously, he saw a few guards at the main gate, but avoiding them was pretty simple. All Carl had to do was go to the back of the community where little people were and climb the walls. Granted, it took him a few minutes to actually get to the top, but he managed just fine. It was honestly kind of concerning that it was this easy for him to scale the walls. He had been expecting better security out of these people. Since this community was the one hosting a fair, one would think they would have at least a few more guards to keep everyone safe.
While he was climbing the walls to sneak inside, Carl had no idea how Alpha was getting in or where she even was. But he knew better than to think about it for long. Right now, his mission was to get in, sneak this poison into a few people's food or drinks, and get out without being caught. The sooner he did it, the better. Thinking about what Alpha may or may not be doing right now wouldn't do anything to help him. He just needed to focus.
The moment his feet touched the ground, Carl took a look around. He was behind a building of some kind, and there wasn't a single soul in sight. Despite that, he could clearly hear people laughing and chattering happily somewhere nearby. Carl felt a grim smile cross his face; these people had no idea what was coming for them. While Carl still didn't even know the full plan himself, he had no doubt that, by the time the next day rolled around, some of these people wouldn't even be alive.
He should probably feel a little more guilty about that.
Carl shook his head, taking out the vial of poison from his pocket. A part of him was still tempted to just smash it right here, but Carl shoved that urge down with little trouble. He crept around the community for a few minutes, trying to get a good idea of its layout before he started with the poison. He made sure to keep out of sight as he moved - Carl might have washed most of the dirt off of him and changed into some clean clothes, but if anyone saw him, they still might make the connection, especially the people of Hilltop.
His scars were pretty noticeable, after all. It's not every day you saw someone with a missing eye and a burn on their face. All it would take for one person from Hilltop to see those scars, and he would be done for.
As Carl looked around, he couldn't help but let his gaze linger on the smiling faces among the crowd - people were laughing and singing and playing around... just having fun. Almost as if the world around them wasn't taken over by the dead. Kids were running around: playing tag and other games, and Carl watched as a little blonde girl tackled another little girl to the ground. Carl didn't think he'd ever seen people look this happy since... since before the world went to shit.
Not even the people at the prison had been this happy. There had always been darkness hanging over them like a rain cloud, one that prevented them from actually enjoying themselves. Here, things were different, and if Carl didn't know any better, he would say that he had somehow traveled to ten years into the past - to a time before the walkers, where people didn't have to look over their shoulder every few seconds, where trusting people came easy...
He could barely remember a time like that. Whenever he tried, things always came up blurry. Carl took in a shaky breath, trying his best to push those thoughts to the very back of his mind - where they wouldn't resurface anytime soon. He had a job to do, after all. Getting distracted would be a mistake that would only make that job even harder, and something like that could prove fatal in the end. He needed to be on his toes if he wanted to get out of here undetected.
So, with the vial in hand, he crept around some more, eye darting around for some kind of opening. He didn't know exactly how he was supposed to slip some of this poison into people's food and water, and Alpha had never specified how much of it he needed to put in: was it just a drop? Or would that not be enough to actually have any effect? At this point, Carl was kind of just winging it and praying that he wouldn't end his day with his head being removed from his body.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, his first opportunity came minutes later.
An older-looking man had left a bowl of salad on a table all alone to go talk to a group of teenagers who were causing a ruckus nearby. Carl glanced around, checking if anyone was looking his way, and slipped out from his hiding spot, trying to appear casual as he made his way over to the table with his head ducked down. He half expected someone to recognize him now that he was out in the open, but to his surprise, no one did. Carl just wasn't sure whether to be relieved by that or not.
As Carl pulled to a stop by the table, he was faced with yet another problem. How did he get the vial's contents into the salad? Carl glanced around, trying to appear nonchalant as his mind whirled. Carl shoved the hand holding the vial into his pocket, pretending to inspect one of the nearby stations as he tried coming up with ideas - but there were so many people in the area, and the noise was near thunderous, which made it hard for him to concentrate.
Then, the wailing of a baby split the air. Carl looked around, and he could see others doing the same. His gaze landed on an older woman rocking a baby in her arms, and that's when Carl realized he had an opening. As quick as a flash, he uncorked the vial, drizzling some of its contents into the bowl before quickly stuffing the vial back into his pocket. Carl peered inside, satisfied to find that the salad still looked relatively the same - the chances of someone noticing the odd clumps of leaves inside were close to none.
As the baby's wailing died down to the occasional whimper, Carl started walking away, his heart pounding as adrenaline pumped through his veins. A small part of him expected someone to come storming up to him, maybe having seen him put something in the salad, but no one did. Still, Carl kept his head down, trying to seem bored as he made his way through the thick crowd. He snuck a glance behind him just in time to see the old man returning to the salad. A thread of guilt started forming in his gut, but he shoved it back.
He couldn't be feeling guilty right now. He shouldn't be feeling guilty at all - he didn't know these people, he didn't owe them anything.
But what if Dad does? Another part of him whispered. Carl tried to ignore it, quickening his pace and resisting the urge to flee. What if Michonne or Daryl knows any of these people? What if your dad or Glenn, or Maggie know these people? What will they think of you if they learned you did this? Carl grimaced, shaking his head, but the onslaught of what-if's refused to relent. Do you think any of them will accept you back if they learned what you're doing?
He clenched his jaw, his hands curling up into fists in his pockets. The cool glass of the vial Alpha gave him brushed against his knuckles, and he resisted the urge to pull it out and throw it into the ground. He wanted nothing more than to destroy the vial, to watch it shatter into a million pieces so he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else, but he couldn't. Because Alpha could be anywhere in the fair right now - she could be watching him right now. And only Alpha knew what was in the vial; if she didn't see the results she wanted, she would know that Carl didn't use the vial, and he would be dead by the end of the night.
Carl gritted his teeth.
He made his choice.
Not that he really had one.
Thirty minutes later, he spotted another opening. Carl knocked over one of the stations, and while everyone was distracted with picking everything back up, drizzled some more of the vial's contents into a bowl of soup on a table nearby. Carl slipped away moments later, unseen. There hadn't been a single soul who saw what he did, and the vial in his pocket was now half empty.
An hour later, another opportunity was spotted. Carl bumped into an old woman carrying a giant bucket of water, and she spilled it all over the man who was handing out food. The woman started apologizing profusely, and as the man was assuring her that everything was fine, Carl sprinkled a little of the vial's contents into one of the man's food bowls.
Another opening. Carl started chatting with the woman handing out refreshments to those who needed them. Someone approached the table, asking for lemonade (how they even had lemonade, he had no idea), and while the woman had her back turned, Carl took out the vial and let a single drop fall into one of the cups.
Carl tried not to feel guilty with every drop he let fall from the vial, but he couldn't help it. These people didn't deserve a single thing that's coming their way. While he didn't really know these people, the fact that his dad might was enough to make him falter. If one of these people ended up being his dad's friends, then what were the chances of him ever forgiving Carl? The possibility was low before, but now it's close to zero.
The sad thing was if he hadn't been aware that his dad and some of his old group were alive, he wouldn't even be hesitating right now. He wouldn't be feeling an ounce of guilt as he emptied the vial because these were Alpha's orders. Sure, he would try and help them a bit because Lydia liked them, but not to the degree that he currently was.
The vial only had a few drops left now. Carl probably just had to do one more, and he would be done. He found the opening he needed half an hour later. He started chatting with a teen who looked a little lost, and when the teen turned her back, he emptied the rest of the vial into the plate of salad she had with her. By the time she had turned back around, Carl had already put the empty vial in his pocket. She was none the wiser about what he did, and as she took a bite, he quickly dismissed himself, trying not to feel guilty.
As soon as Carl was out of view and out of earshot from anyone at the fair, he took out the vial and threw it into the ground - immediately, it shattered, and tiny pieces of glass flew everywhere. He took in a shuddering breath, staring down at the now broken vial. It felt good to destroy it, but it didn't do anything to stop the guilt that swam through him.
Carl ran a hand through his hair and then glanced up at the sky, which was no longer the bright blue it had been mere hours before. Instead, it was a black abyss with the occasional star twinkling from high above. He stood there for a few minutes before tearing his gaze away, shaking his head and shoving his hands into his pockets. He should probably get going - Alpha wouldn't be pleased if he ended up being late for whatever the hell she had planned at the barn.
But just as he turned to the wall again, preparing to climb it, the sound of voices made themselves known somewhere nearby. Carl froze, his breath catching and his eye going wide. He jerked his head around, trying to figure out which way the voices were coming from. He stepped away from the wall, his shoulders tense as he picked up the sound of footsteps as well.
As the voices drew nearer, Carl crouched and hugged the wall, a hand darting to the knife in his belt. The voices and the shuffling of feet grew louder - they were probably just around the corner now. He looked around wildly, trying to locate a place to hide. His eyes land on an overturned table lying in the shadows a few feet away. Why it was there, he had no clue, but he wasn't about to complain.
He glanced in the direction the voices were coming, trying to discern whether or not he should hide or run. Making a decision, he darted over to the table, crouching behind it and ducking his head, praying that it would be enough. He reached for his knife just as the sound of violent coughing made itself known from somewhere to the left. Through the darkness, Carl could easily spy the shadowy figures of two people, one of them hunched over as their coughing fit worsened.
"Tara, are you sure you're okay?" A male voice asked, and the second figure, the hunched over one, waved a hand dismissively, but the coughing fit didn't cease. If anything, it only got worse. And Carl had a sinking feeling that he knew just what was happening here.
"M'fine, Alden," the woman, Tara, wheezed out between coughs, "let's just finish up with patrolling so we can get back to the fair. I don't want to miss the movie."
Right, the movie - he could recall hearing a few people talking about it while he had been in the thick of the fair. He's still a little skeptical about it, though - how did the people here actually get a movie working? Carl didn't know, and while he was definitely curious about it, he didn't dare ask any of the people he had talked to. The less interaction he had with them, the less guilty Carl would feel once this was over.
"You keep saying that, but at this rate, you're going to cough up a lung," the larger figure, Alden, rested a hand on the woman's back, "you should go have Enid check you out. Or Beth. Or Siddiq."
"No, they came here to have fun," the woman insisted, "I don't... I don't want to ruin that just because of a stupid-" another bout of coughing interrupted the woman, and Carl watched as she stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. She regained control moments later, "-I don't want to ruin that 'cause of a stupid cough."
Carl could hear the doubt in the man's voice as he spoke. "I doubt they'd care if you ruined it - plus, Rosita will kill me if she learned I made you do the patrol while sick."
Carl heard her scoff. "I'm not sick, Alden-" another cough, "-I was fine an hour ago. This will pass in a few minutes - now can we hurry up? I don't want to-" The woman started coughing again, but this time, it didn't seem to stop. She coughed and coughed and coughed, and Carl watched as the woman dropped to the ground, her body convulsing as blood flew from her lips.
The poison, Carl realized right as the woman's body went perfectly still.
"Tara!? Tara?!" The man dropped to his knees, shaking the woman's body as if trying to wake a sleeping person up. Carl watched as the man pressed his fingers to her neck - searching for a pulse. Carl already knew that the man wouldn't find one, and he was proven right moments later when the man suddenly stumbled to his feet, face looking ashen even in the darkness of the night.
That's when Carl made his move.
Alpha said not to get seen, not to get caught, to sneak out before anyone realized what was happening. If this man, Alden, ran to get help, and if someone figured out that the food and water had been tampered with, Carl would have failed that mission. While Carl didn't want to hurt anyone his dad might know, he also didn't want Alpha to realize that he wasn't on her side anymore until the time was right. And if that ended up costing a few people their lives, then so be it.
So Carl darted forward, emerging from his hiding place, and grabbed the man by the hem of his shirt, yanking him back and, using every ounce of strength he had, threw him onto the ground. The man yelped, already starting to scramble back up to his feet, but Carl didn't give him the chance to. Instead, Carl lunged on top of him, pushing all of his weight into the man's chest. He then reached for his knife, wanting to put an end to this fight before it got out of hand.
But to his frustration, the man wasn't going to go down without a fight. The man got over his shock in a matter of seconds and, with a mighty push, sent Carl flying off of him. Delta swore as he hit the ground but didn't waste a second in climbing back up to his feet, grabbing his knife from where it had dropped. He and the man got up at the same time, and for a moment, they just stared at each other.
The other man's gaze flickered between Delta and the dead body of his friend. Even through the darkness, Delta could easily spy the look of realization and rage that crossed over his face. The man let out an enraged cry, running forward. Delta, having expected something like that, dodged the attack with great ease, slashing the man's arm as he hurtled past.
The man swore, immediately pressing a hand to his arm, and Delta took full advantage of that distraction. He darted forward without a second's hesitation, grabbing the man by the hair and yanking his head back to expose his neck. Before the man could even blink, Delta had dragged the knife across his throat. Immediately, the man's body went limp, falling against Delta's chest.
Delta stepped away, letting the body fall to the ground. Blood poured from his neck, and Delta turned his back to the body, wiping his bloody knife onto his pants. A low moan caught his attention, and Delta turned, watching as the woman's eyes snapped open - only this time, her eyes were blank and lifeless, and her teeth clicked together as another groan escaped her dead lips.
Sensing that it was time for him to go, Delta holstered his knife, walking up to the wall, and started to climb.
Something was wrong.
Something was horribly, horribly wrong.
Lydia glanced around the crowded theatre, a frown pulling at her lips. Then, she looked down at the empty seat beside her, wondering where Henry was. The other teen had left to fix some pipes that had broken, but Lydia hadn't seen him even once since then. And that had been hours ago. While she had thought that he would at least show up for the movie, that clearly wasn't the case anymore.
After a few minutes, Lydia started wondering if Henry had ditched her. If maybe he had decided that she was weird after all and had abandoned her to sit with the other teenagers at the fair - while a large part of her knew that he would never do that, another part of her couldn't help but doubt. She hugged her arms to her chest, glancing around the room once more. Her gaze lingered on the door, half hoping to see Henry walking in at any moment.
But he didn't show, and Lydia was really starting to worry now.
She tried to focus her eyes on the images projected on the screen, tried to laugh along with everybody else and have fun for the first time in forever, but she was much too distracted to give the cartoon on the big screen her full attention. There was a horrible feeling forming in her gut, and she was praying that Henry would finally reappear so she could stop worrying.
It seemed that luck wasn't on her side, however.
As the minutes wore on, there was no sign of Henry. Not even a trace. He didn't show up, and that bad feeling in Lydia's stomach only grew and grew. Her eyes did another sweep of the room, and she bit back yet another sigh when she still didn't spot Henry. She began to fidget in her seat, and she started wondering if she should get up to try and find him.
She decided to wait a few more minutes for Henry to show. If he didn't, then she would go looking. With her choice made, she tried focusing her attention on the cartoon playing on the big screen. Soon, she found herself loosening up a little, and she smiled a wee bit when another bout of laughter echoed throughout the room. Lydia soon found herself totally absorbed, only to have her attention snatched away when, in the corner of her eye, she spotted someone taking the seat next to her - then, a hand landed on her own.
The smile faded from her face. Lydia immediately looked over to see a blonde-haired woman with a hat sitting beside her, the shadow cast by her straw hat obscuring a decent half of her face save for her lips and the tip of her nose. Despite the disguise, Lydia could recognize that face anywhere. It's the face that had tormented her for years on end. A pit of dread formed in her stomach, and Lydia found that she could hardly breathe.
How did she-
Alpha stared at her before slowly, ever so slowly, lifting a finger to her mouth.
Hands were pressed to her throat as Alpha slammed Lydia against a wall.
The woman's hands moved to Lydia's arms, keeping her in place with a painfully bruising grip, and terror rose in Lydia's chest like a wave. She squirmed, her breathing heavy as she tried pressing herself further into the wall in a vain attempt to put some distance between she and her mother. If her mother noticed these attempts, which she definitely did, it didn't show on her face.
"You coward!" Alpha spat out, voice filled with venom and her face mere inches from Lydia's own. "You've betrayed our values. You're coming with me."
"No," Lydia said immediately, doing a weak shake of her head. Before, she wouldn't have dared to disobey her mother, but now she was so tired. She was tired of being tossed around as if she were nothing more than a piece of trash, tired of being hit and slapped and yelled at - she was tired of being pushed around, tired of being a part of the Whisperers. Lydia was tired of her mother controlling her life.
Henry had introduced her to a different way of life, had shown her that there was more to life than just surviving. He had shown her that she could be happy and had made her realize she didn't have to follow her mother's lead anymore. Delta had taken punishments for her, had protected her, had been her friend for so long. Delta had risked his life to get Lydia away from her mother, and he might be dead right now because of her leaving him. She wasn't going back to her mother. Not now. Not ever. Not after everything she and so many others did to get Lydia away from her.
"I believe in these people," Lydia whispered, staring right into her mother's eyes, which remained ice cold.
"That's poison talking," Alpha countered, and while a small part of her was screaming at Lydia to just go with her mother before anyone else got hurt, another part of her, the larger part, wanted to fight back.
She listened to that side.
"I'm staying here," Lydia declared, watching her mother's face to see her reaction - as expected, the woman's face remained carefully blank, Lydia continued. "They care about each other here," she said, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall, "they care about me."
Which is more than you've ever done for me - she wanted to say.
She didn't.
"To keep me safe, they'd kill you," she said instead, "all I'd have to do is scream." Her mother leaned back slightly, and Lydia felt a flare of courage ignite in her chest. "Just walk away and leave me and everyone here alone, or I will. I'll scream." Her words were becoming dangerously close to a threat, but Lydia didn't care. Because right now, all she wanted to do was get far away from her mother. And if she had to threaten the woman to do that, then so be it.
Alpha stared at her for a long moment, dropping Lydia's wrist. "I risked everything for you," she said softly, reaching up to cup Lydia's face in her hands. Lydia flinched away from the touch. Alpha either didn't notice or didn't care and even started petting Lydia's hair. "You're my bug. I was only doing the hard things mothers have to do to protect their young." With every word, her mother leaned closer, now holding Lydia's head in a painful grip.
Lydia felt something inside her snap.
She shoved her mother away, yanking up her sleeve and displaying the various bruises and lash marks her mother had left on her arm. "Oh, I know what you've done," she snapped, holding her arm up to her mother's face, "I've had to live with it every day of my life-" she lowered her sleeve, rage burning through her as her voice began to break, "but I don't want these people to hurt you. I just want you to go."
The thing was, Lydia shouldn't care if her mother got killed, not after everything the woman had done to her. She should be thrilled if Alpha got killed because it would mean she wouldn't be tormented by her any longer. But Lydia wouldn't be. Because despite the horrible shit Alpha had done and said to her, the smallest part of Lydia would always remember the rare moments where Alpha would be kind to her, the rare moments where it seemed like she actually cared and-
And-
"Please, Mama. I just want you to go," Lydia pleaded, blinking furiously to try and rid herself of the tears that were getting dangerously close to falling, "I'm giving you a choice... which is more than you've ever given me."
If this were another world, then maybe Alpha would feel guilty. If this were another world, Alpha would be hugging Lydia to her chest and begging for forgiveness. If this were another world, Lydia might actually have the chance to have a real mother. If this were another world, Lydia would have taken that chance because she just wanted her mother to be... her mother.
But this wasn't another world.
And Alpha didn't beg. She didn't feel guilt.
Alpha leaned in, and Lydia could feel her breath on her ear. "I was just trying to make you strong," she whispered, pulling back to look Lydia in the eye. Her face twisted into an expression of bitter rage. "But you're not one of us. You never were."
Mere moments after she hissed out the last word, a low groan echoed across the empty street. Lydia froze when she recognized the sound, and from over Alpha's shoulder, she could just barely spy a shadowy figure slowly making its way out from a gap in one of the buildings. Long, dark hair hung from the figure's face, and while Lydia couldn't make out any of its features, she would recognize those sounds anywhere.
Lydia felt dread curl in her stomach as another stumbling figure appeared behind the first. This one was larger - a man, no doubt. And even through the darkness, Lydia could easily spy the blood and guts oozing out of its stomach, dripping onto the concrete. Neither of the guardians seemed to take any notice of the mother and daughter standing to the side. Instead, their attention was pulled to the sound of laughter coming from the theatre.
In front of her, Alpha smiled serenely.
Three more stumbling figures emerged from behind buildings, and they followed the lead of the first two.
Lydia tore her gaze away. She stared at her mother. "What did you do," she hissed, terror rising in her chest as the possibilities raced through her. Did her mother make a hole in the walls somewhere? That didn't seem plausible - there was no way anyone wouldn't have noticed that. The only realistic solution Lydia could think of was... was killing people and not putting them down.
"Oh, I didn't touch any of those people out there," Alpha said dismissively, "that was all Delta-" Lydia froze, and Alpha's smile widened, "-he's always been quite stealthy, hasn't he?"
Delta wouldn't do that, Lydia wanted to scream. But deep down, she knew that wasn't the case. Delta would do anything her mother said, no matter how much he might not like it. And if that meant killing some of the people in the fair to create a mini-herd to kill even more people, then so be it - Delta didn't cower away from murder. Even when he had first joined the Whisperers, killing people had been like a second nature to him.
Lydia watched as more and more guardians joined the first few, slowly but surely creating a herd. There couldn't be more than thirty or so, but that was enough to cause some damage if they got into the theatre. Lydia's mind wandered to Anne, to Hershel, Delta's little sister, and to all the other kids who were sitting inside. Her mind went to Beth, to all the people sitting inside there.
Were... were the doors of the theatre even closed?!
Lydia couldn't remember.
Alpha stepped away from Lydia, and she watched as the woman pulled out a skin from her shirt. "I'd get running if I were you," she whispered, pulling the skin on, "go warn them, tell them I was here - it's not going to stop what's going to happen."
Lydia didn't need any more prompting.
She ran.
She ran and ran and ran, dodging past some of the nearby guardians as she made her way toward the theatre. It felt like hours before she actually made it there, but she knew it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. She could hear the guardian's groans as she neared the theatre. The doors were wide open.
She ran inside, grabbed the handles, and slammed it shut.
Immediately, all eyes in the theatre were on her.
"Lydia?" Beth called out, her voice soft and blue eyes wide with concern. She stepped forward, reaching out. "Lydia, what's wrong?"
"Walkers," Lydia whispered.
It took only a single word for chaos to reign.
Killing people was like a second nature for Carl; he had killed countless people throughout his lifetime - children, teenagers, men, women. He had killed people who hadn't deserved it, killed people who were scared and begging for mercy, he killed people who had only been trying to protect their friends and family. And the thing was, he rarely ever thought twice about it. Never felt guilty, never regretted it, and never thought about who that person might have been before the world ended.
So why was this any different?
Why did he feel guilty about slipping that poison into countless people's food and drinks? Why did he feel guilty about slitting that man's throat and leaving him to turn? Why did the image of that woman falling to the ground, hacking and gasping and coughing up blood, keep replaying in his mind? Why couldn't he stop thinking about all the lives he had ended in one day?
Maybe it's because there was a chance his dad might have known some of those people. It's easy for Carl to kill strangers, to kill people he didn't know because he had no reason to feel guilty about it. It was easier when he didn't know their names because, in a way, it made them seem less... human... if that made any sense. But maybe to his dad, these people weren't strangers. Perhaps he did know these people, that he was friends with some of them. Carl didn't know, and his mind was reeling because of it.
Alden. That had been the man's name, right? And the woman... Tanya? Tara? Yes, her name had been Tara. Carl didn't know Alden or Tara, but that didn't stop the guilt from welling up within him.
What would Dad think of you now? A voice in his mind sneered. What would Mom think of you? I doubt she'd be happy having a murderer as a son. In fact, she'd be disgusted.
No, no, no, no, no - Carl squeezed his eye shut, taking in a shaky breath as he tried shoving those thoughts to the very back of his mind. He ran a hand through his hair, and a low groan pulled him back into reality. He looked up, watching as a walker stumbled out from a nearby tree. Carl, thankful for a distraction, strode forward, pulling out his knife still dripping with Alden's blood, and buried the blade deep into its skull.
He tore it out, watching as the walker's corpse fell to the ground. Carl breathed in deep through his nose, sheathing his knife and continuing his walk. He had left the community and the fair behind around twenty minutes ago and was now trekking through the dark woods, making his way to the barn Alpha had said to go to once he finished. He tried not to let his mind wander to the countless people he had murdered in one day, wanting to focus on literally anything else.
He looked up at the dark sky, the full moon slowly but surely climbing up to its peak. It would probably be another hour or so before it was at its highest point. Carl tore his gaze away, a hand lingering on his knife as he did a quick glance around the area. Alpha had said not to bring his mask with him to the fair, that Beta would give it to him once he made it to the barn, so, in the meantime, Carl had to be on his guard if he didn't want any walkers sneaking up on him.
In fact, Carl could hear a few walkers groaning in the distance right now, but they weren't close enough to worry him quite yet. The only thing he should be worrying about was Alpha and her mystery plan, which she hadn't fully shared with even Beta. All Carl knew about it was that she wanted to 'stake a claim' and 'make sure that those people knew not to mess with the Whisperers.' The second one he could get behind - she wanted to make sure that the Whisperers were feared, that they were not to be messed with; hell, chances were that's why she had Carl sneak in the fair with the poison - to kill some people and spread fear. But the first one was still confusing him. Stake a claim? What the hell did that mean?
Carl didn't know, and that's what was scaring him. What could 'stake a claim' mean? He tried straining his mind, tried to recall if she had ever said something about 'staking a claim' whenever they had been attacking other communities. His memory was a little blurred, but he was pretty sure that she hadn't. Plus, the other Whisperers had looked just as confused as he had felt when she first announced it was time to stake a claim. So it wasn't just him.
Another snarl caught his attention, and Carl glanced up, seeing three walkers stumbling around a few feet away. They hadn't noticed him yet, and probably wouldn't at all if Carl didn't make any noise. But Carl was frustrated: he was confused, angry, conflicted, and just wanted to let out some steam. So, instead of just sneaking past them as any other person would, he pulled to a stop, taking out his knife again. Then, Carl let out a low whistle. As expected, the walkers immediately turned in his direction, teeth snapping and eyes gleaming in the darkness as they became aware of the living meal a few feet away from them. Carl grinned.
"Come on, you ugly pieces of shit," Carl taunted, and although the walkers were too dumb to tell what he was saying, the sound of his voice only spurred them on. All three of them lurched forward, low growls escaping them.
Carl just stood there for a few seconds, letting the walkers get close to him. As soon as the first one was within arm's reach, he gave it a hard kick in the knee, making its legs fail beneath it. Carl quickly moved to the second walker, shoving his knife through its jaw and ripping it out as soon as it went limp, not caring for the blood that sprayed over his face. As the third walker reached him, he gave it a hard kick in the knee, sending it toppling to the ground. Carl turned right as the first walker got back to its feet, striding forward and burying his knife deep into its skull. He dealt with the third one in the same manner.
When Carl was done, his chest was heaving. He stared down at the three rotting corpses before silently sheathing his knife. He started walking again. But after a few more minutes, Carl began to run instead. He knew that he would get to the barn whether he walked or not, but Carl didn't want to run the risk of getting there after Alpha did. While Carl doubted she would kill him for being late, he didn't really want another set of lash marks on his arms. And while running was also a waste of energy to many, nearly a decade of surviving on the road gave him high endurance. One thing he could thank the Governor for, he supposed.
If this were before the end of the world, the night would be completely silent - maybe an occasional animal call, but that was it. But it wasn't the old world anymore. No... instead, the nighttime was filled with the distant groaning of the dead, Carl's hard breathing, and his rapid footsteps as he ran through the thick undergrowth, dodging any walkers he came across and ignoring the cold winds that whipped at his face.
After what was probably around fifteen or so minutes of running, he was finally able to see the silhouette of the barn in the distance. Carl slowed down some, to a jog instead of a full-on sprint. He could see the outline of a few Whisperers standing around, probably guarding the place - that meant something important was inside. That only caused Carl's worry to grow.
What could Alpha be planning?
As he drew nearer and nearer, he could start to see a faint light peaking through the gaps in the wood. That meant someone either got their hands on a flashlight or had put up some torches, probably the latter. Carl slowed down to a walk, breathing heavily as his lungs burned. He glanced up - the full moon was nearly at its highest point now; that meant Alpha would be arriving soon if she wasn't here already.
He prayed that she wasn't.
Carl trekked the rest of the way up to the barn in silence. He could tell the exact moment one of the guards noticed him. One of them knocked on the barn door, tilting their head back and murmuring something against the wood. Moments later, the door swung open, and the familiar, towering form of Beta stepped out. The giant of a man immediately started striding forward, and Carl pulled to a stop when Beta was only a couple feet away.
"I see you've finally decided to show up." The large man said gruffly, reaching into his trenchcoat and pulling out a mask - just as Alpha said he would. He held it out for Delta to take. "I assume everything went well?"
A faint smile pulled at Delta's lips. "You would be correct - got in and out without being seen. Had a bit of trouble near the end, but I took care of it. Is Alpha here yet?" Delta asked, taking the mask from Beta and pulling it onto his head - for once not bothering to lace it up.
"She should be arriving shortly," Beta responded, turning his back to Delta, "now come. I do not want to be standing in the cold any longer than necessary." The second-in-command began to walk, and Delta quickly followed, though he had to lengthen his strides a tad to keep up with the giant of a man.
"Aw, is the big bad Beta scared of a little cold?" Delta teased, and if it had been anyone other than him saying this, he would already have a knife in his head. But alas, the only thing Beta did was glare down at him, and Delta had a feeling that the man's expression beneath the mask was one of pure annoyance.
"Utter another word, and I will rip your tongue right out of your mouth and feed it to the guardians," Beta threatened. And while Delta had no doubt that the man was indeed capable of something like that, he chose to ignore the threat.
"Damn, sometimes I feel like I'm the only person with a sense of humor around here," Delta mused, once again ignoring the harsh glare Beta sent his way.
"To have a sense of humor, you would actually have to be funny," Beta responded curtly. Delta couldn't help the startled laugh that escaped from him.
"It's not my fault you don't appreciate true humor," Delta replied as they approached the barn, "by the way, is anyone here actually willing to tell me what's going on... or am I just going to be in the dark till Alpha comes?"
Beta glanced down at him, and through the darkness, Delta realized the man was smiling. He pulled to a stop, confused. Beta's smile grew wider. "Come, and you'll see." With that, Beta turned away from Delta, and the guards practically dove to the side as Beta neared the barn. Delta watched as Beta swung the doors open before walking inside. It took Delta a moment to snap out of his surprise, but once he did, he shook his head, quickly jogging to the door and trying to shove back the pit of dread that was once again forming in his stomach.
The first thing Delta noticed when he entered the barn was that it was dark. Really dark. The only light he could see was coming off of a lantern in the corner, but that was it. After a quick look around, Delta's gaze found a second lantern hanging from a hook a couple feet away, a box of matches sitting below it. He crept forward, grabbing one of the small sticks from the pack and lighting it with a rock that had been sitting on the ground nearby. When he lit the lantern, however, the sight before him made him freeze.
In the middle of the barn were fourteen men and women kneeling on the ground, hands tied behind their backs and their mouths gagged. Carl's gaze swept over every single one of them, his heartbeat picking up when he realized that these people weren't Whisperers or just any random people. They were from the fair, from the communities - and two faces in particular made him feel sick to his stomach as panic and fear welled up inside him.
What-
"Isn't it wonderful," Beta's voice whispered, and Carl couldn't move a muscle as the large man moved beside him, "it's almost time-" Carl could barely hold back a flinch as the man rested a hand on his shoulder "-as soon as Alpha gets here, we can finally stake our claim."
That's when the realization slammed into him. What Alpha had been saying about staking a claim, what she had said about making the communities fear them. Carl sneaking that poison in had only been part of it, but this? This was something else entirely. This wasn't just killing people to make the rest afraid of them; no, this was about setting an example. Carl felt lightheaded, and he could feel the blood rapidly draining from his face, making him grateful for the mask he now wore.
One of the tied-up people let out a muffled cry upon spotting Delta and Beta in the doorway. It was a woman - with shoulder-length brown hair and bright green eyes that were glistening with rage. She made a move to get up, but one of the Whisperers who must have been guarding them strode forward, kicking her in the back and forcing her down to her knees again. Carl vaguely heard Beta saying something else, but he wasn't about to make out a word of it - all of his attention was focused on the woman.
Maggie?
Carl blinked furiously, wondering if he was hallucinating. But no matter how hard he blinked, the image didn't move away. Maggie was one of the people tied up before him. And the thirteen others didn't disappear either. All the air seemed to leave Carl's lungs when he realized that not only was Maggie sitting among them, but Henry was too, and when the blond teenager looked up, his eyes immediately went to Delta. The boy's eyes widened, and the look in them was a pleading one.
Carl turned to Beta, not quite able to stomach what he was seeing. "How... what?" He cleared his throat, shaking his head and tried making his voice sound more curious than it was afraid. "How did you get all these people here?"
Beta didn't respond.
But someone else did.
"It was quite easy, really," a third voice said calmly. Carl felt the dread pooling in his gut grow, and the hair on his arms and the nape of his neck stood on end. "These people are weak and foolish - none of them noticed until it was too late."
"Alpha," Delta turned, dipping his head at the sound of his leader's voice. Alpha was standing in the doorway of the barn, her mask off as a group of Whisperers flanked both sides.
"Delta. Wonderful to see you made it." The woman smiled as she fully stepped inside. The doors closed behind her with a loud slam, and the Whisperers who were following her ran to join the group gathered at the back of the barn - all totally silent as they awaited their leader's next move. Alpha's gaze swept over the people tied up before her, and she lazily pulled a knife out from her belt.
"Beta-" the large man straightened up at the sound of his name, Alpha's smile widened, "-bring forward the leader of Hilltop. You know which one I'm talking about." Beta nodded, and Carl watched, totally frozen, as Beta strode right up to Maggie. The woman tried lunging at Beta, but he ignored her, grabbing her roughly by the arm and halting her attack. He then pulled Maggie up to her feet, dragging her forward and wrapping an arm around her throat - not enough to choke her, but enough to keep her from escaping.
Maggie still struggled, though. She thrashed around in Beta's grasp, face scrunched up in anger as she tried desperately to free herself. It was all in vain, of course. Alpha stalked forward, twirling her knife around between her fingertips. Carl felt his stomach drop as Alpha pulled to a stop in front of Beta and Maggie. He wanted to help Maggie more than anything - to run forward and pull her away from Beta, to stop the inevitable. But he couldn't.
He was totally helpless.
Just like he had been when Hershel - the first one - had died at the Governor's hands.
Frozen in place, unable to do a single thing - forced to watch as yet another loved one died before him.
Alpha pressed the blade to Maggie's cheek, lazily tracing her jaw with the tip - pressing deep enough to draw blood, but not deep enough to injure. Still, Maggie froze, and Alpha's smile turned predatory. "I should kill you right here," Alpha murmured, slowly dragging the knife down to Maggie's throat, "-should make your people watch. Should make them watch as their precious leader failed to protect them."
Maggie was glaring daggers at Alpha now. Carl wished she wouldn't - that she would just look away. Trying to resist would only make her death so much more painful than it had to be. But obviously, Maggie didn't know that, for she kept doing it. Alpha ignored the glare and just kept smiling in that creepy-ass way of hers.
"But I ain't gonna do that," Alpha said, her voice near silent and Carl felt his breath catch, "while I certainly want to, I don't believe it should be me who gets the first kill." Confusion welled up inside of Carl, and he could see it reflected in Maggie's eyes as well. Alpha continued on: "there is someone else... someone who worked so hard today, and I believe that they should be the one to take you out..."
Alpha turned, her eyes landing on Carl. He felt his stomach drop as she took a step in his direction, holding the knife out toward him.
"Delta should get the honor." She declared.
A/N: Heh...
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Oops..?
My finger slipped...