A Long Way Home

by xXQueenofDragonsXx

Carl Grimes was never able to unite with his father during the prison attack. Despite searching desperately to find his family, he found nothing. Just as Carl was about ready to give up, he comes across a strange group, ones who lived and walked and wore the skin of the dead. And, after they save his life, he joins them. Sequel to A Different Road Taken.

20. Chapter 20

Okay. Hi!

So before we get started on this chapter, I just wanted to go over a few things. You might not have noticed, but on ao3, it says there are going to be around 26 chapters in A Long Way Home. Now, this does not mean that the story will be ending when A Long Way Home does. Some of you might remember me asking about separating the story into parts, and I decided that I am going to do that. While a part of me wanted to keep it all in one, I decided it would be easier to put it into parts.

The reason for this is mostly because it would be easier to edit that way. When I finish the last chapter, I am going to go through this story and fix some errors or some places that I don't necessarily like. The plot of the story isn't really going to change. I'm just going to change some POV's, add or get rid of a few paragraphs. Stuff like that. Once I finish that, or even before i finish that because I am an impatient motherfucker, I am going to start the third installment of the "A Different Road" series.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

---

There were very few things in this world ruled by the dead that would surprise Carl Grimes.

Now, that's not saying he didn't get surprised. Because he did. It just didn't happen often, and he didn't particularly like being surprised either. Because in this world, being surprised usually meant a walker popping out of nowhere, teeth snapping as it tried to take a chunk out of his neck, or a stranger sneaking up on him to try and kill him so they could steal his shit - neither of which were fun experiences. And while there had once been a time where hearing the word 'surprise' would have filled him with neverending excitement, he hadn't felt that way for a long time now. Not since he was a child.

But during the past month, all Carl had been was surprised, something that he wasn't ashamed to admit. When his dad had appeared at the bridge, holding a gun to his head and not as dead as he imagined, and when Daryl and Michonne and Glenn and Maggie turned out to be alive too, Carl had been surprised because he could have sworn they all died at either the prison or Terminus. And when he learned that Maggie and Glenn had a kid, and when Alpha had appeared at the gates of Hilltop, demanding the return of him and Lydia, he had been surprised. (Because what the fuck?!)

And that wasn't even all of it. When Hershel had tumbled out of the bushes after somehow following Henry out of Hilltop, a group of walkers trailing after him, he had been surprised - terrified, even. And when Daryl, Glenn, and that unfamiliar slingshot-wielding woman had popped out of nowhere after unleashing the walkers on the Whisperer's camp, he had been surprised. Hell, this past month had been full of surprises, one after another, with few breaks in between. But after what went down at the barn with Alpha and Beta and the rest of the Whisperers, Carl had hoped (prayed, really) that there would be no more things for him to be surprised by.

Oh how wrong he was.

Because this? This was definitely a surprise.

Carl stared at Maggie, the blood pounding in his ears. Barely breathing as her words registered in his brain, replaying in his mind like a song on repeat. For a split second, Carl wondered if he had heard her wrong, if she was playing some cruel joke on him. Because how could she be telling the truth? How the fuck could he have a brother? How could Carl have another little sibling born into a world as horrible as this one? But as the seconds tick by with the only sound being the howling winds from outside the cave, and as Maggie's eyes flickered down to the fire, refusing to meet his own, he realized he hadn't misheard her, nor was she lying.

His... his dad had another son. His dad had another baby.

Carl had a brother.

His eye grew wide as the realization finally seemed to settle in.

He had a brother.

The idea felt foreign to him, just as it had when he first learned his mom was pregnant with Judith a literal decade before. While Carl vaguely remembered spending a decent portion of his younger years begging his parents for a little brother or sister to play with and take care of, by the time Judith was conceived and the world went to shit, he had given up on the concept of a sibling entirely. So to know that not only was Judith still alive, but he had a little brother somewhere out there too.. it was, well-

Carl stared at his hands, at the fire, at Maggie, his mind numb with shock.

It was... it was hard to believe.

I have a brother, he thought weakly, still unable to catch his breath after the revelation; I have a little brother. My dad had another son during the time he thought I was dead. I have a brother.

Carl made a faint noise of confusion at the back of his throat, head swimming as his thoughts were gradually reduced into nothing more than a rapid whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck-

Who... who would his dad even have a kid with?!

There were not many people Carl could think of who his dad might have been in a relationship with during the past eight-ish years. Sure, his dad had quite a few friends back at the prison, but lovers? Yeah, no. After Mom died, his dad showed little to no interest in any other women or even men at the prison. Of course, that could have changed. It had been nearly a decade after all, which meant that his dad had more time to heal from his wife's death, and therefore could have potentially started a relationship with someone else, but Carl didn't have the slightest clue who that someone even was.

He knew for sure that it wasn't Maggie seeing as she literally had a kid with and was married to Glenn; he couldn't really see Beth with anyone at all (though that might just be his childhood crush speaking). Maggie already said that Carol was married to someone else, and he couldn't see his dad and Carol as anything other than friends (also having Henry as a step-brother would be weird as fuck.)

It could be Michonne, he supposed. But from what Carl remembered, Michonne and Rick's relationship had been purely platonic - then again, a lot can change in eight-ish years. Hell, his dad could have started a relationship with someone he met during the last eight years for all he knew; someone who hadn't been at the prison. Perhaps Carl didn't even know his half-brother's mother.

Which was a weird but not entirely impossible thought.

After what felt like an eternity, he glanced up from his hands still clasped in his lap; Maggie was no longer avoiding his gaze. Instead, she was looking right at him, eyes scanning his face as she tried to make sense of his reaction, to see if it was a good or bad one. Carl quickly schooled his expression into a more neutral one, breathing deeply through his nose in an attempt to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

What was he even supposed to say to something like that? What the hell did Maggie expect him to say: oh, hey, thanks for informing me that I had a fucking brother who I hadn't been aware existed until this point?! Carl honestly doubted she would take that well, but he couldn't just stay silent. So, slowly, Carl opened his mouth, mind almost entirely empty even as he struggled to piece any kind of words together, but a few seconds later, he spoke, and even above the roaring of the winds outside and the crackling of the fire, his voice rang clear.

"You said his name is RJ?"

Maggie didn't have any reaction to his words for a few seconds, making him wonder if she had even heard him. Perhaps he hadn't spoken as loudly as he thought he did? But before he could even think of repeating himself, she was nodding, green eyes slowly drifting down to the fire in between them. The orange and red flames flickered, crackling faintly, and the winds continued to rage on outside, though somewhat fainter than before. The storm must be dying down a bit; that was good.

For a moment, Carl was curious if Maggie would say anything at all. If that tiny nod had been the end of the conversation. If it was, he wasn't about to try and say anything else, but he wouldn't deny the flicker of disappointment igniting within him, a large part of him wanting to know more about the little brother he had no idea existed till now. But before he could fully register his disappointment, Maggie was clearing her throat, straightening up as she lifted her head to meet his gaze once more. Her face was masked.

"Michonne and Rick got together a few months after we found Alexandria," she explained quietly, and Carl tilted his head as he leaned in a little closer, listening carefully to her every word. "A year or two later... they, uh, found out Michonne was pregnant and had RJ."

So Michonne was his half brother's mother! Huh, cool. For some reason, Carl wasn't really as surprised by that revelation as he probably should be. While Michonne and his dad had been just friends back at the prison, they could have definitely grown to be more than that over the past few years - especially since they escaped the prison together (according to Maggie, at least). And, now that he really thought about it, they would be a badass couple. Then again, Michonne would look badass no matter who she was with. (Seriously, anyone who had a fucking katana was one hundred percent badass.)

As for them having a child with one another... From what he remembered, which honestly wasn't much, Michonne always had been good with Judith (once she got over her fear of her, that is). So yeah, the idea of her having a kid with his dad wasn't too far-fetched.

And - while he hadn't really thought about it much before the prison fell - during his years with the Whisperers, when he would occasionally look back on his past, Carl had found himself wondering if Michonne had a child before everything went to shit. It would certainly explain the pained expression that would cross her face whenever looking at Judith, certainly would explain her hesitance to talk about her past. But he never dared to think about it for long. Even if she did have a kid at some point in time, he doubted they were alive by the time Michonne came to the prison, and Carl hadn't wanted to think about dead children any more than he had to.

Kind of sad considering how many children he watched die because of Alpha's cruelty.

An image of the baby that had started crying during the trade at Hilltop wandered into mind; of the fate it had just barely managed to escape, the one he had witnessed many other children get. Carl shook his head, gritting his teeth as he returned his attention to Maggie.

"How old is he?" Is his next question, his voice a tad softer than before but still loud enough that she could hear him over the storm raging on outdoors. Maggie cocked her head, face clouding over with thought - clearly trying to do the math in her head. It wasn't exactly easy to keep track of age anymore.

"Four," she said finally, though her voice was slightly unsure, "around that, at least."

He nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smile. But that smile faded just as quickly as it came as a sudden and horrible realization settled upon him.

He didn't even know what RJ looked like, hadn't been there when he was a baby, hadn't been there for his first words or steps... Hell, Carl didn't even know what Judith looked like now, and while she had just started to attempt standing by the time the prison fell, he had still missed those first steps and words. He didn't know what their favorite colors, favorite foods, or favorite hobbies were... he didn't know a single damn thing about his little brother and sister.

Did their dad ever tell them about him? He doubted it. They probably didn't even know who he was. Carl took in a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his hands trembled.

How... how much of their lives did he miss out on?

He stared at the fire, swallowing down the lump that was slowly starting to form in his throat. Even if Carl did survive long enough to meet them, would Judith even want an older brother? Would RJ? They already had a whole community of people there to protect them, so why would they care about some stranger, some random man who just happened to share the same DNA.

Because that's what he would be to them, right? A stranger. Someone who little RJ had never met, someone who Judith probably couldn't even remember at this point. Sure, Carl had taken care of Judith as a baby, but that wouldn't change the fact he was a stranger to her. And why would they care about a stranger?

The thing was, Carl knew that he was vastly overthinking all of this. Maggie said that RJ was around the age of four. Four-year-olds were a lot more accepting than adults were, probably because they were so young and didn't really know right from wrong. If anyone were to be unwilling to accept him as an older brother, it would be Judith, who, while still a child, was old enough to understand who he was, who he had been with for the past eight-ish years, and dislike him for the things he did. And while that would still hurt, at least she would be alive; a living sister who hated him was better than a dead sister who loved him.

And, after all, it would be nothing like the way his dad would probably see him.

Carl shook his head and looked back over at Maggie, desperation to distract himself from the unwanted thoughts that wouldn't stop swarming his mind leading him to open his mouth and ask, voice slightly incredulous, "did... did Dad really name his own kid after himself?"

If Maggie had noticed the way his voice started to shake toward the end of his sentence, she didn't comment on it. Instead, she threw her head back and laughed - an actual, genuine laugh that wasn't tainted with bitterness, fear, or nervousness - but whether it stemmed from her surprise or something else, Carl wasn't sure. He watched her laugh for a full ten seconds, blinking owlishly, confusion engulfing him, and he couldn't help but wonder if she had finally snapped. Jesus, what if he just got left with a crazy person?!

But before he could panic about that for long, she managed to bring her laughter to a halt, though her voice was still breathless and slightly giggly as she said, "he lost a bet with Glenn."

"Oh my god!" Carl couldn't stop the laugh that passed his lips, and he ducked his head, burying his face in his hands as he struggled to fight back a smile. "Are you serious?"

"I am," Maggie said, her words coated with amusement, "to be fair, they were both drunk for some weird reason, but the bet was still made and lost."

"Let me guess," Carl said, uncovering his hands from his face to peek over at her face, "Michonne was pissed?"

"Honestly? She thought it was hilarious," Maggie said, leaning back a bit, her face melting into a fond expression as she thought back on the past. "And the even funnier thing is, they originally were not going to name RJ 'RJ' even after Rick lost the bet, but by the time he was born, she and Rick had warmed up to the name a lot, so... RJ it was."

"Unbelievable," Carl muttered, still smiling. That honestly sounded just like them, or just like what he remembered of them. He kept having to remind himself that he didn't know them anymore.

Still, the mere ridiculousness surrounding RJ's name had Carl laughing again. And once he started, Maggie did as well. It felt good, that moment; the warm fire crackling in front of them, keeping them from freezing due to the cold weather, he and Maggie's laughter filling the otherwise empty cave as the wind howled on outside and the tension slowly seeped out of his muscles. It's almost like old times back at the prison and farm, and despite the uncertainty that still hung in the air and despite his many doubts and fears, Carl still found himself feeling at ease and at peace for the first time in years.

So, of course, his brain just had to fucking ruin it.

If Dad had a kid during the period of time where he thought I was dead, does that mean he replaced me?

Carl froze in place as the unwanted and unwelcome thought breached his mind, his laughter coming to a complete and abrupt halt. Even as he tried to forget this horrible thought, and even as he tried to ignore the fresh wave of doubts said thought had brought with it and immerse himself back into the peace and amusement he had been surrounded in seconds before, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He stared down at his hands, at the fire, swallowing thickly as his mind began to race.

If Dad already had another son, one who wasn't riddled with scars and fucked up beyond repair, why would he want me?

He could barely breathe, could hardly move as thought after thought entered his brain, each one worse than the last. Slowly, Carl found his heart sinking. He didn't know what kind of people Judith and RJ were, but he didn't need to know what they were like to realize that they were automatically a hundred times better than he could ever dream of being. Despite Carl telling himself that, the truth hurts all the same. His dad had replaced him, had another son with another woman. He was enjoying a comfortable and happy life with them without Carl.

He doesn't need you, his mind whispered, and was it wrong?

Any hopes of his dad ever wanting him back began to fade, now being replaced by a bitter but painful acceptance as his thoughts somehow continued to worsen. Why would his dad want him anyway? Why would he want Carl if he already had two perfectly normal kids and a wife that he didn't fight with every damn night? Why would he want him after knowing that Carl had been with the Whisperers? And he could only imagine the disgust on his dad's face if he knew about all the people he killed. If he knew about his part in the fair.

If he knew about the monster that his son had become.

"Hey," Maggie said suddenly, no longer laughing, and her voice pulled Carl from his thoughts, "are you okay?"

Carl looked over at her, touching a hand to his face and cringing when it came away damp from the tears that had unknowingly started to fall. "I- I'm fine," he said, hurriedly beginning to rub at the wetness with the sleeve of his jacket, sniffling before inwardly cursing himself for starting to cry in front of Maggie. God, she probably thought he was so pathetic now.

"Right," Maggie said, her voice practically dripping with doubt, confirming that she definitely didn't believe he was fine. Which is both bad and good. Because Carl was lying, and while it was nice to have someone worrying about him, he didn't want to explain why he felt this way. She would probably try and tell him that Rick wouldn't hate him, but that would just get his hopes up, and he wanted to minimize the heartbreak from his father's eventual and inevitable rejection as much as possible.

"Seriously," he said before he could even consider stopping himself, voice soft as he averted his gaze back down to his lap, refusing to look Maggie in the eye, "I'm fine, just... thinking."

They both knew it wasn't true.

---

It was a nice day.

The sun was out, bright and shining, slowly rising higher and higher into the vivid blue sky and covering the community of Alexandria and the world around it in a blanket of light. There was barely a cloud to be seen up above, and the ones that were seen hardly even took away from the beauty of the day; the morning breeze was strong but not annoyingly so, and despite the thick layer of snow concealing the ground, the air only held a slight chill to it. It was still cold, of course, but not as bad as it could be - not as bad as it probably would be in a few short hours.

But yes, it was a nice day. In fact, the weather was almost perfect right now, and Michonne knew that she should be happy about that, knew she should be enjoying it with her friends and family while it lasted. But she just couldn't. There was no way Michonne could get herself to relax enough to enjoy it. Because today? Today Rick and a few other Alexandrians were starting their journey to the Kingdom. Her husband was leaving, and Michonne was staying, and she just couldn't stop the dreadful feeling nagging at the pit of her stomach, telling her that something was about to go horribly, horribly wrong.

She kept checking and rechecking the wagons - assuring herself that all the needed supplies were still inside, that everything was warm and safe and stable. She kept piling more and more blankets into people's arms; kept doing checks on the horses, searching for any signs of injury or poor health that could potentially lead to disaster. Michonne was doing everything she could think of to make sure things went well, to get rid of that horrible nagging feeling, but nothing she did was working. If anything, it was only growing worse.

Which led her to now.

"Do you have food?"

"Yeah, in the back."

"What about water?"

"Also in the back."

"Blankets?"

"With Glenn and Hershel."

"Maps."

"With Daryl."

"What about-"

"Chonne," Rick said softly, stepping forward and taking Michonne's hand gently into his own, cutting her off mid-sentence as their eyes met, "I think we have everything."

Amusement trickled into his voice, practically dripping from every word as he tilted his head, pale blue eyes shining like diamonds in the early morning light. Michonne took in a slow, deep breath to try and calm the rapid beating of her heart, giving her husband's hand a tight squeeze before letting it go. She soon found herself regretting that, however, as the cold winter air bit at the exposed skin of her palms, causing her to sigh as she shoved her hands into the warm pockets of her jacket.

"It's better to be safe than sorry," she reminded him, peering up at Rick through narrowed brown eyes. The people of Alexandria went about their business all around them: some preparing for the long journey ahead of them, some seeing their loved ones off, some just watching from the sidelines, but Michonne didn't give those people anything other than a passing glance. Rick was the only one who held her attention right now, even if he wasn't fully aware of it.

Rick waved a hand toward the wagons that Daryl, Rosita, Aaron, and Beth were loading up a few feet away. "We checked everything four times already," he pointed out, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile.

"Fifth times the charm," Michonne argued, pulling her hands out of her pockets and crossing her arms.

"Good point."

"I make nothing but good points," she said, and Rick let out a bark of laughter, his eyes twinkling - an odd sight considering just how withdrawn and quiet Rick had been since the fair, since Carl had disappeared once again.

Maybe Beth's talk with him had helped more than Michonne thought it had.

Or maybe, he was just pretending again. Perhaps Rick was putting up yet another mask to make everyone think he was alright, just like he did when they first came to Alexandria years before, just like he did when Carl disappeared for the first time after the prison. Michonne would like to say that she could see through whatever facade her husband put up, especially considering just how long she's known him, but with how chaotic things had been lately... she wasn't too sure about anything anymore.

"And that's why I love you," Rick said teasingly, oblivious to all the worries that were currently whirling through Michonne's head. She glanced up at him, rubbing her forehead as she attempted to clear her mind. For a moment, she had forgotten what she had said to him before her thoughts had gone into a downward spiral - but thankfully, it didn't take long for it to come back to her.

Michonne rested the hand she previously had pressed to her forehead on her hip, shifting her weight slightly as she raised a brow. "Is it?" she asked after a brief pause, the corner of her mouth quirking up into a small half-smile. Rick nodded, a similar smile slowly forming on his face. The sight of it was almost enough to ease some of the worries spinning around in her head.

Keyword: almost.

"Well," Rick said slowly, "your beauty might have something to do with it as well."

She smacked him playfully on the arm. "Flatterer."

"I speak nothing but the truth," Rick said without missing a beat.

Michonne couldn't help but laugh at that. And while the action made her a lot lighter, that same damn feeling that's been buried deep within her since this morning refused to leave - it continued nagging at her, clawing at her insides, continued bubbling in her chest, threatening to drag her down and never let her back up. It suffocated her, clogging her throat, her lungs - engulfing her very being until the only thing left was-

A loud, over-dramatic groan quickly caught her attention, pulling her gaze away from Rick's and onto the source of the noise. A few feet away, an annoyed looking Hershel Rhee was seated cross-legged in one of the many wagons around them, his fluffy winter coat and scrunched up face making him look more like an angry kitten rather than the seven-year-old boy he was. It was rather comical, and Michonne probably would have laughed if she hadn't been so distracted.

"Daaad!" the little boy complained, a pout crossing his pale face, "Rick and Michonne are being gross again!"

Glenn, from where he had been looking over a map he must have gotten from Daryl, glanced up at the sound of Hershel's voice, eyebrows furrowing. He only looked confused for a second before it clicked, however. And once it did, the man snorted, lips twisting up into a tired smile as he set the map down and gave his son an amused and slightly exasperated look. "And what exactly am I supposed to do about it?"

Michonne didn't hear what Hershel said in response to what Glenn said, and if she were being honest, she couldn't really bring herself to care. But somehow, she still found herself watching the father and son argue for a moment before letting her gaze move back over to Rick. To her surprise, he was also watching the two bicker, but not in the same way Michonne had been. There was something almost wistful in his pale blue eyes, something so unbelievably sad that it made her heart ache just looking at it. And though this sight laid out before her left Michonne feeling more than a little puzzled, it didn't take long for it to click.

Oh.

Michonne was silent for a few moments, as was Rick, but eventually, she summoned the courage to broach the subject first.

"Did Carl ever do something like that?" She found herself asking, barely even feeling her mouth moving, and Rick quickly tore his gaze away from Glenn and Hershel, silently meeting Michonne's eye.

"Yeah..." he said softly, "used to do it all the time when he was young. Lori and I were never too affectionate with one another, but when we were..." a fond smile appeared on his face, though it was tinged with grief. "Well, let's just say he had the time of his life being a complete and total drama queen."

"Wonder where he gets that from," Michonne teased. She had only known Carl for a little over half a year by the time the prison had fallen, but she had still spent enough time with him to see that he could most certainly be a dramatic little shit when he wanted to be.

"I am not dramatic," Rick argued, looking a mix between offended and amused. Michonne lifted a brow at this, not bothering to hide her doubt.

"Really?" She asked dryly, her eyes boring into his. Rick quickly averted his gaze, staring down at the snowy ground as his face reddened in a way that was probably not entirely from the cold.

"Okay, fine," he admitted, "maybe I am a bit dramatic." Michonne couldn't help but snort. Only a bit dramatic? Yeah, sure. She'll believe that as soon as all the walkers in the world disappear.

Which was another way of saying never.

She opened her mouth to make some kind of remark about how Rick was more than a bit dramatic, but right as the words were on the tip of her tongue, she paused, taking in his expression. It wasn't sad per se, but it wasn't happy either. It was sort of a mix - something she couldn't quite place. He kept glancing toward the gates, his lips twisting into a frown. Then, his gaze moved to something behind Michonne, and when she turned to follow his stare, she realized it was Lydia he was looking at, her head drooping slightly and Carl's hat clasped in her hands.

Michonne was only confused for a second before it clicked. She turned back to Rick, heart aching as the realization washed over her. She watched him closely, carefully, and then she reached out, taking his hand gently into her own and giving it a tight squeeze. And when he finally met her eyes, she asked softly, "Do you think you'll find him out there?"

There's no need for Michonne to clarify who 'him' was. Both of them knew. It wasn't even hard. There were only two people that needed to be found, after all. There were only two people whose fates remained unknown even after the pikes, and only one of them was Rick's son; only one of them had been missing for years already. Only one of them was Carl.

Rick inhaled sharply, eyes darting away from Michonne even as his grip on her hand tightened around hers. "I hope I do," he whispered hoarsely, his voice so quiet it was nearly drowned out by all the background noise going on around them.

For what probably was the fiftieth time that week, Michonne felt her heart break into two.

"We'll keep a lookout as well," she promised in a voice just as quiet as his had been, lifting the hand she held in her own and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

Rick looked back at her, face softening. "I know you will."

There's a brief moment of silence after that - between them, at least. People continue to move around by the gates, chattering on and saying their goodbyes as horses nickered in the background. Michonne barely noticed, though. She stared at Rick's face, holding his hand so tightly that she's surprised she hadn't heard some kind of protest.

"I can go for you if you want," she offered suddenly, searching his face carefully as he looked up, surprise and confusion flashing in his eyes. "If you want to stay here-"

"No," he interrupted, sounding almost panicked, "one of us has to go, and... I want it to be me." He gave her hand a comforting squeeze, a faint smile appearing on his face. "I trust you to keep our home and family safe, Chonne. More than anyone else."

She wanted to be comforted by what Rick was saying. She wanted that more than she could put into words. But Michonne just couldn't get herself to relax, couldn't get rid of that sick feeling swirling in her stomach - twisting and churning, as if a tornado had taken residence there. It's funny because she had offered to stay behind and keep things in order here in Alexandria, but now all she wanted to do was to hop onto one of those horses and ride out to Kingdom.

But someone had to protect Alexandria while Rick was gone, and she had more experience with running a community than a lot of other people here. She had taken Rick's place more times than she could count - sometimes she and Rick would even switch who was in charge to give the other a break. She was the most equipped to watch over things while Rick was gone.

Sure, Aaron could probably do it. As could Rosita or Beth. But Aaron was still grieving over Jesus, Beth was struggling with her sister's disappearance on top of being the only doctor in Alexandria, and Rosita was pregnant. She didn't want to throw the responsibility of an entire community onto any of them.

Michonne took in a deep breath, letting go of Rick's hand and opening her mouth to say something else, but she didn't get a chance to get a single word out before she heard Tanya, one of Negan's former wives, by the gates, calling out to them. "Rick, Michonne. We're about to head out!"

Rick nodded to Tanya before returning his gaze to Michonne, scratching at his beard as he sighed. "I guess this is goodbye, for now."

"I guess it is," Michonne agreed. And after a brief pause, Rick stepped forward, gently cupping her face and leaning down to kiss her. Michonne's hands move to his shoulders almost instinctively, fingers twirling in the curly strands of hair that fell down to his neck.

"I'll make sure Judith and RJ don't get into too much trouble till you come back," she said once they broke apart. Rick's hand remained on either side of her face, keeping their eyes locked together. "Stay safe out there, Rick. I love you."

"I love you too," he said quietly, voice breaking as he reached the last word. Michonne took him by the nape of his neck and brought his face down to kiss him again. He returned the kiss without hesitation, this one lasting a little bit longer before they eventually had to pull away.

"I should probably go get on one of the horses," he said regretfully. "I'll try to get back here as soon as possible. But until then..." Rick trailed off, taking a reluctant step away from her.

Michonne nodded, understanding the silent message. "Say hi to Carol for me. Enid too."

Rick smiled, but it appeared as more of a grimace, if anything. "You know I will."

---

Lydia didn't volunteer to go on the journey to Kingdom.

Well, actually, she did try to. But her offer had been shot down before she had even gotten the chance to open her mouth. Both Rick and Michonne had made it perfectly clear that no children - except for Hershel, who was going with Glenn - would be going on the journey no matter how old or mature they may be, and while Lydia had tried to protest, nothing she did or said changed their minds. Apparently, all members of the Grimes family were stubborn as hell, a fact that was both infuriating and slightly relieving at the same time, if not a bit heartwrenching.

But now, instead of doing her part in helping fix the damage her mother had caused, Lydia found herself sitting all alone on the porch of the infirmary. It's the end of the afternoon, and the remaining people of Alexandria were wandering the snowy streets, chatting as they went about their day. Judging by the sun's current position in the sky, it's been six or seven hours since Rick and the others had left for Kingdom, and three or four since Lydia had first sat down here, lost in thought.

She's been in a trance of sorts all week, going through her life almost mechanically as the big, black hole in the pit of her stomach only grew, ripping apart the budding hope that had just started to blossom inside her for the first time in years and dragging it deep into the dark abyss. She couldn't sleep for more than a few hours at a time, couldn't let her guard down for even a second, couldn't pretend like everything was alright now that Alpha and the rest of the Whisperers had disappeared.

There was a bit of relief, of course. After all, Alpha wasn't around to terrorize the communities even more after weakening them so much during and after the fair, which would give them time to heal and grow stronger. But Lydia knew her mother - knew how the woman thought, knew just how stubborn and vengeful she could be. There was no way that Alpha would be leaving these people alone; Alpha would be coming back once winter was over and the weather got warmer, and she wouldn't stop coming until everyone in the communities were dead and a part of her herd.

And while Lydia wanted to think the opposite, wanted to believe that maybe her mother would take her pack elsewhere and never come here again, a large part of her already knew that wasn't a possibility. And for some reason, that same part of her felt ill at the thought of the Whisperers leaving and never coming back. But Lydia knew she shouldn't be feeling that way. Because the Whisperers disappearing would be a good thing - a miracle, even. No more people would have to die. They would be safe - she could actually have a chance at living and being happy.

But she wasn't stupid.

The thing was, Lydia didn't miss her mother, much less her life with the Whisperers. Not after all the pain and fear they had caused, not after everything they've done to make her life and everyone else's a living hell. While there had once been a time where Lydia had foolishly believed that maybe Alpha would change, that perhaps they could have a chance at being happy, that time had long since passed. In fact, the only reason she could possibly see herself missing the Whisperers was because of Delta. Because of Carl.

Because if the Whisperers were gone, then he might be too.

If the Whisperers were gone, then she would never know what happened to him.

Lydia had lost a lot of things during the past ten years. She lost her father, who she hated for years and years before eventually learning the complete truth behind his death; she lost all hope of her mother actually loving her enough to change her ways. She nearly lost Henry because of her own stupid mistakes. Lydia was no stranger to loss, but him?

She couldn't lose him. Couldn't even fathom the idea of it.

But maybe... maybe she already had.

"Aren't you cold?"

Lydia jumped at the sound of Judith's voice, head snapping up and a hand darting to her belt, where she stored her knives. She only relaxed when she spotted the little girl standing a few feet in front of her, arms crossed and dark eyes watching her expectantly. But even so, Lydia's heart gave a painful squeeze. God, Judith looked so much like her brother, and she probably didn't even know it.

To be honest, Lydia's barely interacted with any of Carl's siblings since coming to Alexandria. Or before that. Sure, there were a few words and smiles exchanged here and there whenever they passed in the streets or something like that, but nothing much, nothing notable. And it wasn't that she didn't want to be around them, or that she didn't like them, because she did. In fact, she already knew she would protect them with her life if it ever came to that. Lydia just... she just wasn't sure if she should be around them. It felt so unfair that she was the one able to be at Alexandria, that she was able to meet RJ and Judith or talk to Rick and Michonne while Carl wasn't.

It was so unfair, and she couldn't stand it.

"Aren't you?" Lydia found herself asking after a moment, forcing her eyes back down to her lap. Her voice was strained and raspy, which was expected, seeing as she hadn't used it in a long time, and really, she couldn't bring herself to care. No one liked spending much time around her anyway.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Judith shrug. "A little. But I haven't been out here for hours like you have."

Yeah, that's fair.

There's a pause, and then Judith moved forward, slowly climbing over to where Lydia was before sitting at her side. Once settled, the younger girl looked out at the snowy streets, a small sigh escaping from deep within her as her arms tightened around her chest. Lydia watched her quietly, carefully - trying to figure out what was up with her. From what she's seen, Judith was usually quite cheerful. But right now, she looked the exact opposite of that. And while Lydia wasn't exactly a huge fan of children, seeing Judith like this was still worrying.

Maybe it was because Rick had left? That would certainly be an understandable reason. Any child would be worried about one of their parents abandoning the relative safety of the walls, especially with the Whisperers still out there somewhere. It probably didn't help that Daryl and Glenn, her uncles in all but blood, were going on the journey as well. But for some weird reason, Lydia doubted that was the full explanation. It still didn't explain why Judith had come up to her of all people, why she didn't just go to her mother or Beth or literally anyone else. Perhaps it was because they were (sort of) close in age?

But that wouldn't make any sense either. Didn't Judith have a friend - Gracie - who was only a year or two younger than her? Lydia was pretty sure she did. So it probably wasn't about age, then.

"Why didn't you go?" Judith asked suddenly.

Oh.

Lydia looked at Judith, who met her gaze head on with her features soft and eyes curious. There was no need for the younger girl to clarify because Lydia knew just what she was asking.

"Do you think I should've?"

Judith shrugged again. "Dunno."

The two girls stay silent for a minute, then two. As they near the third minute, a cold gust of wind blew past them, and Lydia shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders as if that would do anything at all. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Judith do the same, her small face scrunched up in discomfort.

"Did you want to go?" Lydia found herself asking out of the blue. "With your dad, I mean."

Judith was quiet for a moment. Then, she nodded, kicking her legs out and sending bits of snow flying off the porch steps. "Yeah, but Mom and Dad said it was too dangerous for someone my age." A tiny, childish pout wormed its way onto the girl's face, and Lydia couldn't help but smile even as her insides lurch painfully, feeling as if someone had shoved a knife deep into her stomach and twisted it around over and over again.

She couldn't ever recall a time where her own mother had cared for her safety the same way Michonne and Rick did about Judith's. Whenever Lydia's life was threatened by something - be it a walker, animal, or person - Alpha often stood to the side and watched, eyes void of any emotion as her daughter struggled. The woman would only ever intervene if she became bored or felt merciful, the former being the most common. In fact, the only one who ever came to her defense was Delta - no, Carl - and he would always be punished for it.

But Judith... Judith never had to deal with that. She had parents who loved her, who cared for her, parents who put her and her brother's safety above everything else. In fact, Judith had an entire community dedicated to keeping her and the other children safe. But Lydia never had any of that.

"They said that to me too," Lydia said quietly. So quietly that she wondered if Judith even heard it.

But when she glanced down to check, she saw that the girl was nodding slowly, absentmindedly twirling her fingers through strands of her hair. It was a familiar sight, a familiar gesture, something she had seen Carl do whenever he got anxious. Lydia's throat closed up, and she quickly pulled her eyes away from Judith, trying desperately to calm the rapid beating of her heart.

And yet, less than a minute later, Lydia found herself looking at the nine-year-old once again, watching her every movement carefully. Judith, as if sensing Lydia's curiosity, turned to meet her gaze. The hand in her hair dropped down to her side, and she tilted her head, staring up at Lydia with large and thoughtful eyes that the older girl had only seen on one other person.

"What?" Lydia questioned, shifting uncomfortably. She didn't really have much desire to continue their conversation, nor did she want to break the calm silence that had fallen between them. But Lydia had been with the Whisperers long enough to know how to read the expression on a person's face - when they weren't wearing masks, at least - which made it easy to tell that Judith had something on her mind.

"Mom said you knew my brother - the older one, I mean, not RJ," Judith said softly, sounding somewhat hesitant - as if afraid of what Lydia's reaction might be.

And Lydia... she drew in a startled breath at the question. Previously, the thought of Judith wanting to talk about her missing older brother hadn't even crossed her mind, but now it was so obvious, and she felt so stupid for not realizing.

Lydia glanced away for a moment, heart in her throat as she struggled to regain her composure. And when she finally did look back at Judith, she opened her mouth, just barely able to get any words out.

"Did she?"

Judith nodded, her face heart shatteringly hopeful as she stared up at Lydia. Lydia didn't think she ever had someone look at her in that way before. The teenager blinked rapidly, trying to rid herself of the tears forming behind her eyes. Then, she forced her gaze down to her lap, breathing shakily.

"That's... nice," Lydia said quietly after a brief pause, voice cracking.

"So it's true," was what Judith said next, and if her voice wobbled a bit as she spoke the words, neither of them mentioned it.

"It is," Lydia agreed, somehow finding the strength to tear her eyes from her lap. "Your brother is-" was, her traitorous mind added helpfully "-my best friend. My first friend, actually."

"Oh," Judith said awkwardly, "cool."

Lydia fell silent after that, as did Judith, neither of them really knowing what else to say. Honestly, Lydia was perfectly content with just sitting in silence, but Judith wasn't. She knew that because, once a minute passed, the younger girl started to fidget: nervously glancing around, fingers twitching randomly and suddenly, kicking out her legs every few seconds and sending clumps of snow flying off the porch. Then, Judith started to open her mouth, clearly wanting to say or ask something else, before pausing and forcing it back shut. Lydia watched all of this out of the corner of her eye, internally debating whether or not she should do something and speak up so Judith wouldn't have to.

And, right as she was about to do just that, Judith finally found the courage to open her mouth once again and actually get some words out, her voice cutting through the heavy silence similar to how a knife would cut through a walker's limbs. "What is... what is he like?" The younger girl asked quietly, her brow creasing as she peered up at Lydia.

Lydia froze as the question registered in her mind. Though, to be honest, the words shouldn't have surprised her as much as they did. Obviously Judith would want to know what the brother she couldn't even remember was like. But that realization didn't erase the pit in Lydia's stomach, didn't stop her heart from cracking a little bit more. Countless memories of Carl's laughter and smiling face flash through her mind, causing a lump to form at the base of her throat, and she took in a shuddering breath to try and dull the pain.

"I..I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad-" Judith stammered, reaching out to curl her hand lightly around Lydia's upper arm. "It's just... I just want to know what he's like - now, I mean. I kind of know what he was like at the prison, but you're the one who knows the current him best. But you don't have to talk about him if you don't want to. I'm fine with it."

Lydia suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of guilt wash over her, once again stemming from the fact that she hadn't been able to convince Carl to come with her when Daryl, Glenn, and Connie came to rescue Henry and Hershel. If she had, then Judith wouldn't have to be asking any of this, Carl could have been reunited with his father and friends, and Lydia would still have her best friend. But Lydia hadn't been able to convince him, and he could be dead because of it, and now she, alongside everyone else who used to know him, would never be any wiser.

It was crystal clear to her that Carl mattered a lot to the people who had known him personally, as well as the people - like RJ and Judith - who didn't. And that only served to make Lydia feel even worse about the current situation. But, no matter how much she wanted to wallow in her own misery, she knew that Judith deserved to learn more about her brother. Lydia wasn't about to keep that kind of information from the girl.

"I'm sorry," Judith said again, her face reddening, "I'll just... I'll just go." With that, the girl started to get up, dark eyes pinned to the stairs as she prepared to run as far away from the infirmary as possible. But in the blink of an eye, Lydia found herself reaching forward and grabbing her arm, stopping Judith before she managed to get even an inch off the porch.

"No, don't be sorry," Lydia said hurriedly, letting go of Judith's arm once she was sure the younger girl wasn't about to bolt. Images of Carl that had been lingering at the far back of her mind since the fair came rushing at her then, surrounding her as guardians - or walkers - would do with their prey, and immediately, Lydia felt the lump in her throat double in size.

"He's protective," Lydia finally said, trying not to flinch as Judith leaned into her shoulder, drinking in her every word with wide and curious eyes. Still, something bloomed in her chest, something brilliant and hopeful and overwhelmingly bright, but the teen forced herself to ignore it. Instead, she focused all of her attention on the task at hand.

Lydia drew in a deep breath as she glanced over at the street, watching as the people passed by, chatting and doing their assigned jobs, before eventually returning her gaze to the nine-year-old at her side. "He was clever too, but also kind of a dumbass-" Judith giggled, and Lydia's lips twitched up into a small smile "-he's loyal as well, sometimes a bit too loyal."

"Was he loyal to Alpha?" Judith asked, tilting her head.

Lydia took in a deep breath. "To a degree, yes. But not anymore."

And it was true, wasn't it? Carl had once been totally loyal to Alpha, but whether that was out of fear, respect, or because he thought he owed her for saving his life was something she still didn't know. Maybe she wouldn't ever know. But it didn't matter because Carl had betrayed Alpha in the end, which proved he wasn't as loyal to the devil of a woman as many others thought he was.

Lydia met Judith's eyes, struggling to figure out what she wanted to say next. There was no easy way to describe Carl. There was no easy way to describe any person.

But she had to try.

"Carl... he never acted as if I was less than him like others did," Lydia said as Judith pressed herself even closer, as if she could somehow get more information out of her if they were touching rather than just sitting side by side. While the touch did bother her slightly, Lydia didn't try to move away. "He treated me like I was an actual person with thoughts and feelings, which was more than what Alpha did."

A hint of bitterness seeped into her voice at the mention of Alpha, but Lydia couldn't be bothered to try and stamp it out. And really, why should she? No one would punish her for saying bad things about her mother here in Alexandria. In fact, everyone said those kinds of things about her mother here in Alexandria.

But now wasn't the time to think about Alpha.

Lydia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, sighing heavily before continuing: "I taught him about the different plants, which ones were edible and which ones weren't. Also taught him how to throw knives, and in return, he showed me how to fight those bigger and stronger than I was - it probably saved me from a lot of... unpleasant experiences in the long run."

The teen was just barely able to bite back a shudder at those words, and her hands formed tight fists in her lap. She took in a deep breath - once, twice - trying to erase the bad memories from her head. Once again, now wasn't the time to think about those kinds of things. In fact, she would prefer to not think about those things ever again if possible.

"He even taught me to read," Lydia said after a pause, her words almost drowned out by the cold winds blowing around them. "I mean, I knew how to before. But not well. So your brother used to find and bring back a shit ton of books when he had the time, and we would spend hours reading them to eachother. We had to stop when Alpha found out, though." Lydia chose not to mention the part where they both got a hundred new bloody scars on their arms due to Alpha's rage. Judith didn't need to hear about that.

Still, Lydia found herself rubbing her forearms where Alpha had left most of her marks. The wounds rarely hurt anymore, and when they did, they were usually phantom aches. She closed her eyes, swallowing back the lump forming at the base of her throat. "Your brother made being with the Whisperers a lot more bearable. I don't know where I would be without him."

Judith nodded, probably still processing all the information she'd been given, and Lydia found herself watching the girl thoughtfully. She wondered what was going on in her brain, what she now thought of her older brother. Had her opinions from before they had this conversation changed at all? If they did, Lydia hoped they hadn't changed in a negative way. She doubted they had, but Lydia didn't know Judith enough to confidently make that kind of assumption.

"Did he ever... you know, kill anyone?" Judith asked a minute or two later, her eyes now pinned on the house sitting across from the infirmary. "Like, in a way that wasn't in self-defense?" her gaze moved back to Lydia, and the teen really wished she knew what was going on in the younger girl's head.

Still, Lydia did not hesitate to nod. Carl had killed countless people - both in self-defense and not - and she wasn't about to lie to Judith about that. "Yes," she said, carefully watching Judith's face before asking in a quiet voice: "Do you think that's bad?"

Judith tilted her head, thinking. "No," she said finally, "everyone kills people nowadays. Mom does, Dad does..." Suddenly, a nervous look fell upon the nine-year-old's face. "Do you think he'd like me?"

It was an abrupt and unexpected change in subject, but not an unwelcome one. Lydia stared down at the girl, whose voice had quivered as she spoke those last few words. There was an unsure expression etched onto Judith's face, as if she both dreaded Lydia's response and looked forward to it at the same time, and the teen felt her heart ache. But this time, she didn't have to think twice about her answer to the question.

"Oh, he'd love you," said Lydia, voice softer than she ever remembered making it. "Carl misses you so much, Judith. He never talked about his past often, but whenever he did..." she glanced away for a moment, breathing in deep. Memories of that last night in Hilltop, of Carl's face after hearing that baby's cry, entered her mind. "He talked about you like you were the most precious thing in the world."

Judith nodded, and if her eyes were beginning to grow a bit watery, neither of them chose to say anything about it. Instead, Lydia watched as Judith started twisting her hands together, gnawing on her lower lip as she clearly thought something over. Finally, the younger girl whispered nervously, "Can I tell you something?"

Lydia raised a brow, cocking her head and regarding Judith with a look of confusion before nodding slowly. "Go for it," she said, and Judith took a deep breath.

"I think-" Judith paused, struggling to find the right words to get her point across. "I know I wasn't even a year old when he got separated from us, but I think I can remember him." She looked away from Lydia, eyes pinned firmly to her lap.

Lydia took a few seconds to process the new information. While it was surprising, it certainly wasn't the weirdest thing she heard. "Really?"

Judith shrugged, still staring down at her hands as she mumbled. "I think... I-I dunno." She hugged her arms to her chest, suddenly looking so much younger than she really was. Then, she looked back up at Lydia, her dark eyes wide and undoubtedly sad. "Sometimes, if I try hard enough, I can remember stuff, like voices or faces. But... it's really vague. And I just-" her voice cut off, and her face fell a bit. And Lydia slowly found herself resting a hand on the younger girl's shoulder, not really knowing how else to comfort the obviously distressed child.

Judith went silent for a breath, squeezing her eyes shut as she took in a shaky breath. "I want to think he's alive, that he's somewhere out there trying to make his way back to us, but I don't know. I just... I just hope I can meet him, even if it's just once. Y'know what I mean?"

Lydia stared at Judith as she took this all in, her insides twisting as she mulled over the words that had just been spoken. She had no idea how Judith must be feeling right now, but she did know that she had to comfort her somehow. But Lydia didn't know how to go about that. The only child she ever attempted that with was Hershel, which sort of worked, but he was an entirely different person than Judith. After a pause, Lydia let her hand drop down from the girl's shoulder.

She took a deep breath.

"Yeah, I do," she said slowly, voice shaking a bit as the words left her mouth, "And I hope you can meet him too."

---

Three days after Carl learned of the existence of his little brother, he and Maggie were walking through yet another forest. It was quiet, uncommonly so, with the only sounds heard being the crunching of snow beneath their feet, the occasional animal call somewhere in the distance, and very rarely the groaning of a walker. That was probably the one thing Carl enjoyed about winter; the lack of walkers that wandered about, and even if there were some around, the snow would give away their location the moment they came near.

But sadly, Carl didn't have much energy in him in order to feel happy about that. Maybe it's because they've been marching along for so long at this point; he and Maggie had set off early in the morning, and seeing as it was noon now, around six or seven hours had been spent walking, and walking, and walking. It was tiring to say the least, and while Carl could usually spend hours traveling without breaking much of a sweat, he was currently sporting two separate stab wounds, both of which serving to severely limit his strength.

He's also ninety-nine percent sure he's running a fever. The reason he thinks this is because his entire body was sweaty and hot, his nose was all stuffy, his throat felt like sandpaper, and his head, shoulder, and sides were all radiating with pain. Why Carl had a fever now instead of two weeks ago when his wounds were fresh was a mystery to him, but he didn't try and think about it for long because doing so would only end up making him a hundred times more miserable. And if that happened, then Maggie would see that something was wrong, which was probably one of the last things he needed right now.

But one important thing to know about Maggie Greene (Rhee?) was that she's observant - like, to a terrifying degree - and eight years had not changed that at all. If she realized he had a fever, she would force him to stop and rest, and that would only serve to slow them down. But he could feel her eyes watching him as they walk, taking in every stumble and every wheeze of pain, and he knew she was starting to suspect something, so he kept his head up and kept pushing onward.

After all, Carl's had fevers worse than this one. He would be fine.

But clearly, his traveling companion didn't share the same sentiment.

"You feeling okay?" Maggie asked from a little ways behind him as he nearly toppled over a tree root poking out from the ground. Worry leaked into the woman's voice, which was probably warranted considering what bad shape he was in, but it still made Carl stiffen, every inch of him screaming, telling him to assure Maggie he was just fine because he couldn't let her see just how weak he really was. Which maybe she already had because why else would she be asking that question?

Even so, Carl found himself taking in a deep, shuddering breath, chanting a familiar mantra over and over in his head:

Don't show weakness. Don't show weakness. Don't show weakness.

"Yup," Carl grunted, which was a big fat lie because his stomach and shoulder were on fire, his head felt like someone had hit it over and over again with a giant rock, and his hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat.

But then, as if the world didn't hate him enough, he finally lost his footing, tripping over nothing in particular and landing hard on the snowy ground. Thankfully it's on the side with the uninjured shoulder, but the impact still sent a jarring wave of agony coursing throughout his entire body. And that, along with the shock of cold snow that had started seeping through his clothes, made it so he couldn't keep back a cry of pain. Which probably further convinced Maggie that he was most certainly not feeling okay.

"Oh shit!" he heard her say as he struggled to get himself onto all fours. The exclamation was followed by fast footsteps in his direction, crunching in the snow as she came closer and closer. Out of the corner of his eye, Carl saw her reaching out to grab his arm, probably to help him up, and panic quickly flared in his chest. And so, mustering up every bit of strength he still had in his body, Carl pushed himself to his feet, biting back another groan of pain as he panted from the exertion.

"I'm fine," he said weakly, waving her off and cringing when his voice came out breathy and pained, which was the opposite of what he wanted. "M'fine."

Maggie watched as he leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree, just barely able to keep his footing. "Clearly not," she said, taking a few steps toward him. "We can stop for a bit, you know. We have been walking for a while, and we probably both need the rest."

Carl was just about to deny the request, was about to brush away her concerns so they could walk a little further. But before he could even get the chance to open his mouth, she was reaching out and touching his arm, and he flinched away violently, nearly falling right back into the snow. If it hadn't been for the amount of pain he was in, he probably would have tried to push her away, but all he did was hiss and stumble backward, feeling more like a walker than a person. And Maggie snatched her hand back like she'd been burned, a look of guilt immediately falling over her face.

"Sorry," she said quietly, looking at him uncertainly before absentmindedly reaching up to adjust the ponytail her hair was put up in. "I didn't realize that-"

"Fuck... don't apologize," Carl pleaded, shaking his head and immediately regretting it as he grew even dizzier. The pain was a little better now, thankfully. But as he touched a hand to his bandaged stomach, he found that it was wet - hopefully because of the snow or sweat, but knowing his luck, it was from blood or pus. Fuck. "I just don't like being touched. S'nothin' personal. Now can we go, please?"

Maggie stared at him for a long few seconds. Then, she nodded, her face going completely blank. "Okay," she said, taking him by surprise because he could have sworn she was about to spend another ten minutes trying to convince him to rest. But hey, he wasn't complaining. The soon they got to one of the communities, the better. Because Carl was fucking tired. He just wanted to crawl into a corner with a shit ton of blankets and sleep for the next twenty or so years.

Not that he would admit that to anyone but himself, of course.

"We're almost there, you know," Maggie said once they returned to walking. Carl glanced at her briefly, eyebrows lifting doubtfully.

"You said that a week ago," he pointed out, moving his gaze back down to the ground, still covered in a thick layer of snow. His steps were more than a little uneven now, especially after that tumble. And Carl knew that if he didn't watch where he was going, he would probably fall again.

Maggie huffed at this. "Well, this time, I mean it," she told him, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her waving a hand to the trees looming above. "This area, I recognize it. We're close to Alexandria."

Alexandria?

He felt his stomach drop at those words. His remaining eye shot over to Maggie, though he didn't turn his head quite yet. If he were being honest, he didn't really care which community they were going to as long as it had walls. But didn't Maggie say they were going to the one that had hosted the fair? What was it called... right, Kingdom! Carl could have sworn she said they were going there. Had she lied to him?

"Thought y'said we were goin' to Kingdom," he said, making his voice as calm and curious as possible in an attempt to hide the hundreds of new thoughts currently whirling around his brain.

Isn't Alexandria the one Dad lives at?

Carl was pretty sure it was.

Maggie shrugged, fiddling with the strap of one of the bags slung over her shoulder. "We were. But there were too many walkers in the area, remember? I didn't want to risk heading through all of that with you injured. Plus, we would have to go past the barn where Alpha kept me and everyone else, and-"

"-Whisperers could have still been in the area?" Carl finished, keeping his hand braced against his side. He found himself relaxing a bit too. Okay, so Maggie technically hadn't lied to him. She just forgot to mention the change of plans. That's fine.

Maggie was quiet for a second, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nodding.

"Yeah..." she said, a sad smile on her face even as her eyes darkened. Carl sighed.

"Makes sense," he admitted after a moment, "But what about Hillt-"

Carl cut himself off mid-word, heart thumping as he and Maggie both stumbled to a stop, staring straight ahead where the unmistakable sound of screaming had made itself known.

---

They had been reinforcing the walls when the walkers came.

Michonne honestly couldn't remember who originally came up with the idea - she thinks it might've been Rosita or perhaps Eugene - but with how busy she'd been lately, she wasn't entirely sure. It was a good plan either way; strengthen their most valuable defenses so that if the Whisperers chose to attack Alexandria while Rick and at least a quarter of their population was gone, they would be better prepared than Kingdom had been.

And since nobody wanted to lose such a vast amount of people in such gruesome ways ever again, it didn't take long for the plan to be accepted by the remaining people of Alexandria. In fact, there were very few protests, and after gathering the needed supplies, organizing different construction crews, and drawing up various blueprints, the community went to work. It was a slow going process, with people having to take breaks regularly to get away from the cold, but despite that minor drawback, things had been going pretty well.

A bit too well, if she was being honest. So obviously, things just had to go wrong.

Michonne had been perched on the watchtower when the screaming started, splitting the once calm and quiet atmosphere with a terrifying intensity. Everyone in the vicinity immediately turned toward the sound. A few even drawing their weapons and rushing out the gate and over to the source. From her high vantage point, Michonne couldn't see much, but as she unsheathed her sword, that dreadful feeling that had been bubbling in her stomach ever since the morning Rick left reared up without warning, slamming into her with full force.

Silently, Michonne began cursing herself for letting her guard down so soon, her eyes scanning the area she could see in an attempt to find the problem. But from her position, it was practically hopeless. All she could see was the familiar, empty, snow-covered road leading to the gate and the trees lining either side. A few yells joined the screaming, and her skin itched with the urge to jump down from the watchtower to go and help, and really, it didn't take long for her to give in to that urge.

Michonne threw her sword to the ground and hopped onto the ladder, climbing down and yelling to a heavily pregnant Rosita to stay inside the walls goddammit before picking up her weapon and running out the still opened gates. She could hear the shouting grow louder as the screaming finally died down, but it didn't take long for the groaning of walkers to make itself known.

Fuck. Was it the Whisperers? Had they really come? Michonne vaguely recalled Lydia mentioning something about Alpha bringing her pack to warmer areas during the winter, which was supposed to give them more time to prepare, but perhaps she had been wrong.

Michonne bit the inside of her mouth as her mind spun with thousands of different possibilities. The metallic taste of blood seeped onto her tongue as she raced through the snow, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She stumbled as she reached the corner of the wall, but she got her footing back quickly and didn't waste a second before sprinting towards the sound of the fighting, which was getting louder by the moment.

Soon, there was only one thought left in her head:

Please don't let it be too late.

---

Carl wasn't exactly unfamiliar with the sound of screaming. In fact, after ten years spent in this hellhole of a world, after ten years of listening to people being brutally torn apart or killed in a million other gruesome ways, he's actually grown quite used to it. That fact should probably disturb him a lot more than it did, but really, he couldn't bring himself to care.

What he did care about, however, was the person who was screaming and what was potentially causing it.

He was pretty sure it wasn't from someone getting eaten by walkers. Carl's heard enough of those screams to be able to tell the difference. But it was clear that whoever was screaming needed help, and soon. And while Delta wouldn't have thought twice before ignoring the sound and moving on, every instinct in Carl's body was telling him to get his shit together and go help.

But even with those instincts, Carl didn't move a muscle. Instead, he found himself leaning against a nearby tree, a hand still pressed to his stomach as the wound there continued to ache and bleed. He cast a glance over at Maggie, who was standing perfectly still a few feet away. For a moment, it seemed as if she had been frozen in place, her face draining of color as the screaming continued, eventually joined by a couple people shouting something Carl didn't bother to decipher.

But then, Maggie gave an unexpected jolt, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as she muttered something under her breath. Carl watched on as she started to walk (or run) in the direction of the screaming before stopping suddenly and whipping around to face him.

"Carl," Maggie said a second later, voice barely rising above a whisper and filled with an emotion he quickly identified as fear, "that scream came from Alexandria."

What? Now it was Carl's turn to freeze. Alexandria - that's where his sister lived, that's where his brother lived, where his dad lived. If that scream really came from Alexandria like Maggie claimed it had, then that meant that his family could be in danger. And even though he had been ripped from his dad over eight years ago, and even though he had never gotten the chance to know his little siblings, the thought of anything happening to them made him feel sick.

Well, more so than he already was.

Shaking his head, Carl pushed himself off of the tree, ignoring the way his head, stomach, and shoulder wailed in protest at the sudden movement. He stumbled forward, his insides doing a flip as the screaming finally died down. But whether that was a good thing or a bad one was a mystery to him.

"Are... are you sure?" He asked Maggie, trying hard to keep his voice from quivering: but with the fever currently wreaking havoc on his body, the endless river of blood that flowed out of his wounds, the limbs that won't stop shaking, and the headache pounding at the base of his skull, he doubted his attempt was successful.

Maggie nodded jerkily, looking paler than the snow that coated the ground. "Yes, I-" she paused, mouth snapping shut and clearly at a loss for words. But it didn't take long for her to open her mouth once more. "Carl, you- I need you to stay here."

The hell?

Carl just stared at her for a few long moments, struggling to comprehend what she had just said. Because what the fuck? There was no way Maggie actually just told him to stay behind and not help, right? Especially after informing him that it was his family that could potentially be in danger.

She just had to be joking.

But as the seconds slowly ticked up, Maggie's expression didn't change, and he realized she was one hundred percent serious on the matter. What the fuck.

"What! Why?" he demanded, remaining eye narrowing. He forced himself to take another step closer and nearly fell over from the effort.

Shit. Maybe Maggie was onto something.

But that didn't quell the fear that had washed over Carl the very moment she had told him that the screaming was coming from Alexandria. Screaming, in his experience, never meant anything good. It meant pain, meant danger, meant suffering. Alexandria could be under attack for all they knew, and while he couldn't care less about most of the people there, his dad lived in those walls. His dad could be in danger. Lydia, if she was there, could be as well.

RJ and Judith - his little brother and his little sister - could be in danger.

And while Carl never got the privilege to meet RJ or the chance to see Judith grow past a year old, that didn't change the fact that they were his siblings. He may not know RJ, and Judith may not remember him, but fuck, he already knew that if anything happened to them, to his dad, to Lydia, he would never forgive himself. And nothing that Maggie said would change his mind.

Speaking of Maggie, she didn't seem too surprised about his outraged exclamation. She was, however, starting to look a little antsy, and kept glancing in the supposed direction of Alexandria while her grip continued to tighten around the straps of the bags hanging from her shoulder. Clearly, she was just as eager to go and help the one she knew and loved as he was.

Still, she kept her voice calm as she answered his question: "I don't know what's happening over there, but they could need help. And you are in no condition to be fighting anything right now."

Maggie gave a pointed look to his stomach, where the worst of the damage was. And Carl, while understanding her reasoning, started shaking his head, ignoring the wave of dizziness it caused. "No. No. Absolutely not," he said, moving the hand he had pressed to his stomach in order to cross his arms. "I am not staying here, Maggie. Not when there are people over there who could be dying. I may be injured, but that doesn't mean I can't fight a few walkers."

Maggie glared at him, and Carl glared right back, trying to appear defiant, though the effect was probably ruined by the very minor fact he could barely even stand up straight without being put through massive amounts of pain. But he wasn't about to stay here either. Not when his family could be in danger.

"Something is telling me that there's more than just a few walkers," Maggie said curtly, starting to look more than a little annoyed with him. "And not only that, but if it's the Whisperers, Carl?"

Low blow, Maggie. Low fucking blow.

"If it's the Whisperers, then that just gives me even more reason to go and help," Carl retorted. But the mere thought of Alpha or Beta being over there scared the shit out of him. But they weren't there. They couldn't be. There was no way Alpha made the pack stay in such a cold climate in order to stage just one attack. That didn't make an ounce of sense.

"You're not going," Maggie said before promptly turning her back to him, pulling her knife from her belt, and starting to move in the direction the screaming had come from. This was obviously meant to be the end of the conversation, but if there was one thing that Carl Grimes would forever be, it was stubborn.

And so, after mustering up all the strength left in his body, Carl forced his legs to start moving. First at a painful walk, then at an even painfuller jog. And though every step was agony, the thought of stopping didn't even cross his mind. Maggie turned as she heard him near, green eyes hardening when she saw him only a few feet from her. The woman pulled to a stop, glaring at him hard enough to send a shudder down his spine. But Carl's dealt with an angry Alpha more times than he could count, so a pissed off Maggie was nothing on that.

Maggie crossed her arms, and if looks could kill, Carl would be dead a hundred times over. "I thought I told you to stay-"

Carl quickly cut her off, not wanting to extend this argument any further.

"Try and stop me," he said, and without another word, walked right past her, not bothering to wait for any kind of reaction.

---

It was clear to Michonne as she neared the scene of the attack that things were not going too well.

For the living, that is.

And sure, with all the shouting and screaming going on, she'd obviously gathered that much already, but to see everything for herself was an entirely different story - a much, much worse story. But that was usually the case with most things, so Michonne really couldn't say she was surprised no matter how much she wished to.

Not that she wanted to say she was surprised. In fact, surprised was the last thing she wanted to be.

Also, she would hate the current situation either way. Surprise or not.

Michonne peered over the fallen log she had ducked behind in order to hide from the constant stream of the dead and took in the scene before her through narrowed brown eyes. Her grip on her sword tightened - enough so that her knuckles began to ache from the pressure, but she didn't give a damn. There were much worse things to worry about right now.

And those 'much worse things' was the herd of walkers that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

The creatures were stumbling out from the trees at a pace too fast for her to count, an endless ocean of rotting corpses, snapping teeth, lifeless eyes, and hungry groans that drowned out every other noise as they moved to surround their prey. The construction crew was trying their best to fight them off with the limited weapons they had, but there were only so many of them, and it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed and ripped apart by the dead.

So she made her move.

Breathing in deep, Michonne adjusted her grip on her blade before quickly vaulting over the fallen log she had been using to hide from the herd. She was on her feet in a matter of seconds and, not wanting to waste any more time, started moving. A small cluster of walkers turned in her direction as soon as they heard her feet crunching in the snow, teeth clicking together and dead eyes drilling into hers. Exhausted and heavily outnumbered construction crew forgotten, they started toward her.

The thing is, Michonne didn't know if this herd was brought here by the Whisperers or if they had simply been drawn over by the noise the construction crew had been making. But that didn't matter. What mattered was helping her people; what mattered was keeping her friends and family safe; what mattered was keeping her community standing. They would deal with the rest later.

And there would be a later. Michonne would make sure of it.

As soon as she reached the first of the walkers, Michonne lifted her sword and swung, the blade slicing through its rotting skull with an incredible amount of ease. The now headless walker fell to the ground almost immediately, its blood painting the once bright snow red. At least we have the cold to slow them down a bit, she thought fleetingly before turning her attention back to the herd. A few more had taken notice of her now.

Michonne raised her sword again before swiftly bringing it down, killing another three in one broad swing. She swung a third time, then a fourth time, then a fifth time, and a sixth - leaving a trail of dead walkers in her wake. But it did little to help, only serving to draw more and more attention onto her until she was right in the middle of a swarm, the dead converging on her from all sides and her blade bloodied as she tried desperately to fight them all off without getting bit.

It soon became clear to her that she had severely underestimated just how big the herd was, and it didn't take long at all for Michonne to lose track of how many of them she had killed. It felt like as soon as she decapitated one walker, another five ended up taking the dead one's place, almost as if she wasn't even making a dent in her and Alexandria's survival! Her only saving grace was the fact that more and more people were arriving by the moment, flooding in with weapons in hand and shouting orders to one another. A few of them even formed a circle around the weakened construction crew, protecting them from the mangled claws of the dead.

At one point, she could have sworn she saw Lydia of all people fighting alongside Beth, but with the sheer amount of walkers currently trying to take a chunk out of Michonne's neck, it was hard to get a clear look. She really hoped it wasn't Lydia. Michonne knew the teenager could handle herself just fine, and she trusted the girl enough not to betray them. But if there were, in fact, Whisperers in this herd, she knew that they would go straight for Alpha's daughter if they got the chance.

And she did not want to give them that chance.

"Watch their hands!" Someone - Beth, perhaps? - yelled as more walkers fell upon the exhausted fighters. Michonne huffed, swinging her sword at another two walkers, cutting their heads from their bodies and barely batting an eye as a spray of rotten smelling blood splashed onto her hands.

Her arms were beginning to sting from the exertion, but she didn't dare slow down. Michonne had fought longer than this countless times, after all: when the Governor attacked the prison, when the Wolves attacked Alexandria, when the Saviors attacked Alexandria, when the Saviors attacked Hilltop. This was nothing compared to any of those times, and yet, she couldn't stop the fear from settling into her bones.

That fear soon became warranted when she heard a noise from behind her and ended up cursing aloud, heartbeat quickening as she swung her sword again and again, her movements steadily growing more frantic as the realization settled in. There was no way she would be able to turn around and deal with the threat behind her. Not when there was already an entire swarm of walkers in front of her.

And yet, despite knowing that, she didn't stop swinging her sword, leaving more and more walkers dead in the snow. If there was one thing Michonne learned over the past ten years, it was that she couldn't stop fighting - even when things seemed as hopeless as they currently did. She needed to keep fighting for Alexandria, for her children, for Rick. She had survived worse than this; she had to keep fighting.

A walker closed its cold, skeletal, and incredibly mangled fingers around her free arm, and Michonne struggled to pull away from its grip. But with her body already beginning to tire from the amount of fighting she had done, the task was much harder than it should've been.

Still, she refused to stop trying to break free, instead choosing to swing her sword at another three walkers as Aaron shouted something in the distance, followed by the sound of feet crunching loudly in the snow. She hoped he was coming with backup. Because they really needed backup. Michonne cringed as the walker's grip on her arm began to tighten, already preparing herself for the feeling of teeth digging into her skin.

Then, something... something strange happened. An unknown object whizzed past Michonne's left ear, and as if in slow motion, she watched as a small knife embedded itself into the skull of the walker that had been mere seconds away from taking a chunk out of her arm. But she didn't get much of a chance to wonder how that could be as more of the herd closed in around her, forcing Michonne to pull her attention away from the corpse slumped dead on the ground, an unfamiliar knife protruding from its head.

Another walker latched onto her, snapping jaws mere inches away from her cheek, and Michonne swung around, wrenching her body free with a newly found strength and slamming her sword down into its rotted skull. She ripped the blade out quickly, a flicker of hope flaring up inside her when she realized the herd was beginning to thin out.

She wanted nothing more than to turn around, to see who exactly had thrown the knife that had saved her life, but before she got the chance, Michonne felt something warm and undoubtedly solid pressing against her back. Immediately, she found herself tensing up, recognizing the feel of a body behind her. But she quickly realized it wasn't another walker - it wasn't reaching for her or trying to take a bite out of her - instead, it was bracing against her. A person; it was a person.

"Got your back!" An achingly familiar voice shouted, light and slightly raspy with a faint southern accent clinging to every word. It was hardly intelligible above the hungry groaning of the dead, but somehow, she managed to make sense of it.

Michonne felt her breath catch in her throat after the voice registered in her mind: could that be who she thought it was? She didn't have time to question it, though - because then the person was pushing their back into hers. The two of them being forced closer and closer together by the walkers pressing in from all sides.

In a matter of seconds, they had found a rhythm in order to fight against the slowly depleting hoard around them - they cover her back while she had theirs. She couldn't get a good look at the person, especially with their backs together, but throughout the course of the fight, Michonne managed to catch a few quick glimpses of pale, dirty skin and dark brown hair.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last walker fell to the ground, dead. And, as soon as it did, Michonne stumbled forward and, with her hands on her knees, started taking in gasping breaths, long dreads falling in front of her face as she fought to rid herself of the icy ache in her chest. Around her, she could see others doing the same.

And when she straightened up, eyes scanning the woods and the surrounding area quickly, she saw just how many walker corpses littered the ground. Aaron was already starting to drag a few of the bodies into a pile, and as Michonne sheathed her sword, she saw Lydia doing the same - poking the faces with her knife, probably to check for Whisperer masks. A few feet away, she heard Eugene talking rapidly to one of the construction workers, who looked like they were about to collapse from exhaustion. Michonne turned her head slightly, just in time to see Beth break down in tears as she ran forward and engulfed another woman in a tight hug.

Michonne did a double take.

Was that... Maggie?

It was, she realized as Maggie laughed and spun Beth around, a tearful smile covering both of their faces as they clung to each other. Maggie was covered head to toe in dirt, blood, snow, and who knows what else, but other than that, the woman looked relatively unscathed. Michonne watched the sisters reunite for a moment, her heart aching and mind screaming for her to go forward and hug Maggie as well, when suddenly, a voice piped up from behind her, causing her to freeze.

"Wow. Eight years and somehow, seeing you swinging that sword did not get any less badass."

Michonne whipped around, eyes going wide before stopping right in her tracks as she spotted the source of the voice.

"Carl?"

She blinked furiously, not believing what she was seeing. A part of her was expecting it to be a dream or some cruel hallucination borne of exhaustion, but deep down, she knew it wasn't. Michonne wasn't imagining who she saw before her because it was undoubtedly Carl Grimes. It was Rick's son. Judith and RJ's brother. The boy she had just started seeing as a son before having him snatched away when the Governor attacked the prison.

Carl was standing a few feet from her. He was a few feet from her, like, actually there, and existing, and Michonne couldn't quite wrap her head around it all. The last time she had seen him had been at Hilltop, back before she knew who he was, and seeing him now, especially after the fair, was just...

Michonne stumbled forward, starting to reach a hand out before snatching it back to her chest, afraid that any sudden movement would cause him to disappear.

Carl looked different, but that was what eight years did to a person, she supposed. But that didn't make it any less jarring. He was skinnier, covered head to toe in dirt and blood. His skin was worryingly pale and clammy, with dark bags under his one remaining eye. The burn scar on his face remained the same as it had been at Hilltop, but there was a fading cut going from the middle of his nose to an area a few inches above his mouth - something Michonne knew hadn't been there before.

But the most disturbing change of all was the way he clutched his stomach, a pained grimace etched onto his face, and the way his body trembled as if the slightest of breezes could knock him down. Michonne felt her stomach drop a bit, and she took a small step forward, her motherly instincts already flaring up at the sight of her husband's son in such a horrible, horrible state.

Then, Carl spoke. "Hey, Michonne," he said weakly, his voice breaking. And though he was obviously trying to hide it, she could still hear the complete and utter exhaustion that clung to his every word. "What's up?"

Michonne took another step forward, taking note of just how tall he had gotten. He was still shorter than her by one or two inches, but he was clearly no longer the awkward, lanky fourteen-year-old boy she remembered from all those years ago. "Carl," she said again, her voice soft, barely even audible, but she knew that he heard it.

His lower lip began to tremble, and Michonne suddenly became aware of just how watery his eye had become. Eye. Oh god... He was missing an eye. She had known that before, of course - even saw a bit of it when she still thought he was Delta. But seeing it on Carl was an entirely different story. Michonne's gaze briefly flickered to the right side of his face, which was covered by a thick curtain of hair, but even so, she was still able to catch a glimpse of the pale red scar tissue lying beneath.

Michonne took one last step forward until they were standing toe to toe. And then, they just stared at eachother for a good ten seconds.

She was the one who moved first, slowly extending her hand until her knuckles brushed against his cheek.

He watched the movement warily, his jaw clenching. But after a moment, he leaned into the touch, taking in a shuddering breath as he fought to hold back his tears.

"Oh my god, it's really you," Michonne whispered, "you're alive..." And before she could stop herself, she wrapped her arms around Carl, holding him as close as humanly possible. She felt him tense up as soon as they made contact, but before she could pull away and start apologizing for causing any potential discomfort, he slowly put his arms around her as well, tucking his face against the groove of Michonne's shoulder.

"Trust me," Carl said quietly, his voice thick with tears. "I'm- I'm surprised about that too." His arms tightened around her, and his entire body shook with the sobs he was trying so desperately to hold back.

Michonne brought a hand up to his head, petting his hair and carding her fingers through the messy waves. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, "I didn't- you-" She closed her eyes and held him as tight as she could without causing any unnecessary pain. Her voice quickly crumbled into a broken whisper. "No more getting separated. Okay? Never again."

"Yeah," Carl said in agreement, though he sounded distant, and it didn't take long for her to realize he was still in disbelief. She didn't blame him; she could hardly believe this either. "Never again. I'm cool with that."

"Oh my god..." Michonne repeated, leaning back a bit and resting her palm on her stepson's cheek. Her fingers brushed against the burn there. But as soon as she saw him cringing at the touch, she moved her hand to his chin. Her eyes trailed over the scratch on his nose and then to the bruises marring his skin. "I can't- I can't believe- You've grown so much, holy shit."

Carl let out a wet laugh, melting back into Michonne's hold and hiding his face back in her shoulder. "I'm still shorter than you, though," he choked out, and Michonne couldn't help but laugh a bit as well.

"Good," Michonne said teasingly, though her voice shook with emotion. And guilt. So much guilt. "I refuse to let another Grimes grow taller than me. Your dad is enough, goddammit. So don't you dare get even an inch taller than me."

Carl snorted out a laugh, though his expression changed a bit at the mention of his father. "I don't think you have to worry about that. I haven't grown any taller since I was like, nineteen or something."

After a few more moments, they stepped away, and as Michonne glanced around, she realized that only a few people had taken notice of Carl's presence. Most of them were preoccupied with dragging the walker corpses into piles. She turned back to Carl, keeping a hand on his arm - part of her still afraid that he would disappear again. "Shit..." she murmured, blinking away the tears that were threatening to spill. "Carl I... I have no idea what to say."

Carl smiled nervously, reminding her strongly of the fourteen-year-old she had known back at the prison. He was so different from that boy. But at the same time, it was like nothing had changed. "Neither do I."

She squeezed his arm and shook her head. "I missed you so much," she told him, and a flash of surprise fell across Carl's face, making her heart break even more. Did he really think no one would have missed him? "We all have."

He smiled again, his eye growing watery once more. "Missed you too." Then, he blinked, a curious expression forming. "So... you and my dad...?"

Michonne was just about to ask how he knew about her and Rick, but then her eyes darted over to Maggie, who was still clinging to her younger sister. She looked back at Carl, her lips twitching up into a smile. He didn't appear upset about the idea of her and Rick in a relationship - that was good. In fact, he just seemed curious and a little bit hopeful.

She was just about to confirm that yes, she and Rick were a couple, when the groans of more walkers echoed through the treetops.

---

Carl really should have known that there would be more walkers.

Like, seriously, he had spent the past seven years walking among them. He literally knew all of their behaviors better than he knew himself. But with the fever coursing through his veins, the two stab wounds oozing with blood and pus and horrible amounts of pain, and all the emotions flooding through him after reuniting with Michonne, who was sort of his stepmom now? that he hadn't noticed until it was too late.

The dead just kept spilling out of the trees, and if he didn't know any better, he would say that there were more than before. Even with the extra backup, it was taking all they had to keep them at bay. Carl really wished he was in better shape and that he had a better weapon, but he's fought with worse circumstances, so all he did was grip his knife tighter and suck it up. Letting his pain get to him was a weakness.

So he ignored it, and more than once, he found himself pressed back to back with either Michonne or Maggie as they tried to put an end to the herd of walkers heading in their direction. He actually hadn't seen any Whisperers in this herd, which was somehow both relieving and extremely worrying at the same time.

He didn't think the herd came here because of Alpha, but one could never be too sure. As the Harry Potter books said: Constant Vigilance or some shit. So he kept his guard up, searched with walkers who didn't act much like walkers as he fought to stay alive. His only saving grace was the fact that he could actually see an end in sight, which was probably the one thing that kept him going even when every inch of his being was begging him to stop and rest before he collapsed into the snow.

Vaguely, he heard Michonne send one of the fighters - some guy named Aaron - back inside for reinforcements, though she herself didn't go, which he found curious. She looked just as exhausted as he felt, so he was surprised she wasn't taking the opportunity to get away from the walkers. That's what Alpha would have done, but then again, Michonne wasn't Alpha. She wasn't anything like Alpha.

Carl buried his knife deep into another walker's skull, ripping it out and letting the corpse fall into the snow. His hands were slick with blood, but he didn't care. He turned as another two walkers came at him, ducking under the reaching arms of one before kicking the knee of the other and causing its legs to fail beneath it.

He began walking toward the walker as it started to get up, but before he could, the other walker grabbed his shoulder, the injured shoulder. Carl let out a cry of pain as the walker tightened its grip, lunging forward and preparing to take a bite. Before it could, however, Carl lurched away, somehow managed to get out of its hold.

But unfortunately, the momentum had him falling right onto his ass in a way that had his entire body exploding with pain while his head and vision swam. In seconds, both walkers were falling on top of him, teeth snapping as they prepared to take chunks out of his neck. Thankfully, he managed to catch one by the chest and the other by the shoulder, but with him being in such a weak state, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold them back for long.

And yet, luck for once seemed to be on his side. Because less than a second later, a long blade was slicing through both of the walker's skulls, detaching their heads from their bodies. Carl barely even flinched as their blood splattered on his face, though the smell was repulsive, especially with his fever.

He gave a weak shove, trying to get the bodies off of him. Carl had just managed to roll one of the corpses to the side when someone else grabbed the other and dragged it off. And, as Carl struggled to his feet, he quickly spotted Michonne standing a little ways away. She gave him a worried look, clearly about to ask if he was alright. And all Carl managed was a faint nod before picking his knife up and rejoining the fight.

Reinforcements arrived a few minutes later when there were only thirty or so walkers left to deal with. Carl's first reaction was to feel relieved by this because he felt about ready to drop dead. But then one of the reinforcements, a boy who looked to be Lydia's age, spotted Carl, and a look of terror and disgust crossed his face. And Carl cursed when he realized that the boy was holding a gun.

"Whisperer! There's a Whisperer!" The boy shouted, raising the gun to shoulder level.

Michonne spun around, her eyes going wide with horror as she spotted the boy with the gun in hand. "Gage, don't!" She screamed as the boy's finger moved to the trigger.

A gunshot echoed throughout the clearing, and as Carl looked down at his stomach, he saw that his shirt was rapidly beginning to turn red, only a few inches from where Beta had stabbed him. But that was the only thing he was able to notice before a searing pain ripped through him and his vision turned dark.