A/N: Drunk. Threw up from anxiety at least once while doing the final proof read. World sucks. Scared I'm gonna lose everything to misery. So here's a chapter because writing is the only way I can cope. (This is definitely a cry for help, but like in a way that I'm sure that things will most likely turn out okay, so if you're worried don't be because I'm actually basically fine – things are just shit right now) Enjoy.

Summary: The mission to meet Stephanie is underway. Before they set off with their horses, however, Carl visits his father's grave, Gabriel shares a few kind words, and Yumiko's group have a request.

~ Grimes ~

For the whole two hour drive to Alexandria, Oliver doesn't say a word. He just glares out the window, grinding his jaw. I try to catch his eyes. He turns his head away. I'd ask what's wrong, if Eugene weren't sitting behind my seat.

Oliver'll talk at some point. I know that, at least.

We arrive to Alexandria before eight AM.

The stable-hands, pre-informed of our arrival, begrudgingly check three horses out for us. Eugene's given a palomino gelding called Peach Pit, Oliver's given a brown pinto mare called Puddin', and I'm given a white gelding named Cauliflower. While Oliver and Eugene sort the horses' supplies, I tell them I'll be back in a few minutes, and head for Gabriel's church.

The graveyard is empty when I get there. It's the first time I've been here in nine years, almost to the day. I've always avoided coming near here. Too many ghosts.

I don't know why I'm coming here today.

My father's grave is overgrown by weeds and moss. His cross is aged and rotting. Mould creeps up the wood, almost covering the engraved words completely. I kneel and push the weeds aside to see that someone has re-scratched over what Negan had previously scratched out, as well as added an old, familiar mantra, in tiny writing, hidden unless you look as closely as I am.

Rick Grimes
Father, Friend, and Leader
1971 – 2012

Mercy for the Lost
Vengeance for the Plunderer

Quickly, I wipe a tear off my cheek and gently pull the tall weeds back over the cross to hide the carvings again. I have to sit here for a few minutes until my chest stops threatening to break. I jump up when I hear footsteps behind me, coming through the graveyard. I relax when I see it's only Oliver. He casts me his best chin-strong smile.

"Carl?"

More tears fall down one side of my face. I wipe them on my inner elbow. Oliver puts an arm over my shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Do you know what Judith said to me once?" I sniff. "She said… she doesn't even remember him."

Another rush of tears fall before I can stop them.

"And the worst part is..." My voice shakes. I look at him, at his huge, worried eyes, and I tell him, "I don't know if I remember him, either. Any of them. I... I'm starting to forget their voices..."

Oliver hugs me, tightly, then pulls back to look at me, and he says, "Forgetting the sound of a voice isn't forgetting the person altogether..."

I take a few moments to collect myself. When Oliver lets me go, we turn and look at my father's grave together. We crouch so I can show him the new carved words. As we stand again, Oliver puts his prosthetic arm around my waist, squeezing again in that gentle way. I put my head on his shoulder. I feel his kisses against the bristly-short hair on my head, his breath warm on my scalp.

"Voices change," he goes on. "Ours sure have. I think what matters is that we don't forget who your dad was to us. The same for everyone else. Michonne. And Maggie. Enid. Sasha. And Daryl. Rosita. Tara. Aaron... All of them... We remember the good of them, and the bad, and we hold on to them and what they taught us... so we don't forget ourselves along the way..."

Someone clears their throat. We both jump and turn our heads to see five people I don't know gathered at the graveyard entrance.

"Hi, Oliver," one woman with dark hair and a British accent says, "long time no see."

"Yumiko. Hey." Oliver greets the rest of them, naming them each as Magna, Connie, Kelly, and Luke. "This is my husband. Carl."

They double take at me, all realising in unison whose grave we're standing in front of. I watch their faces change in recognition. Not in a good way, either. It's not unusual. It's the look settlers always give me when they realise who I am. It's a weird mix between disappointment and resentment. I'm a living example of failure to them. Settlers see me and they realise who I am, where I'm from and where I am now... and all they see is wasted potential.

If only his father had won the war, they think.

If only...

I glance away guiltily, but steel myself, and set my jaw to watch them all.

Yumiko swallows nervously. "We don't mean to interrupt. It's just... Oliver... can we talk, if you're not too busy?"

"Err…" Oliver glances briefly at me. "This, sort of, isn't a great time."

I shrug to him, not minding.

Oliver glances back at Yumiko. "Okay. Can I meet you outside? We won't be long."

Yumiko nods. The five of them leave.

I cringe to myself, wishing they hadn't seen us like that. I learned a long time ago that it's not a good idea to show any vulnerable sides of myself to the settlers or Saviors alike. It'd be too easy for them to use Oliver against me. So far it's only Negan who's nailed that tactic down.

Oliver gives me a sympathetic look. "Here I was thinking it was bad enough when they think we're Negan's kids..."

Pulling a face, I try to make light of it: "I get it. It should be m...m-e in that grave right now instead. Things would've worked out much better for these people..." Only it's much darker outside of my head than in, judging by the strong tut Oliver gives me.

And then, as vivid as the day it happened, I see my father's mashed-up face spread across the grass and side walk, gargling my name with what little he had left of a mouth and tongue.

"C- C- Ca- C- Car- Carl..."

The final blow splashed my face. I remember the heat of it, his blood and brains, dripping off my chin — I jump when Oliver takes my hand, pulling it gently from my cheek. He watches me anxiously.

I pull my hand from his, steeling myself again.

"I shouldn't have come to see it," I say sternly. "It isn't happening again."

"Carl..."

I'm already leaving the graveyard. Yumiko and her friends are waiting outside on the steps of the church. I go on inside while Oliver talks to them. Gabriel's sitting at one of the pews. He turns to me as I make my way along the church aisle.

"It okay… if I..."

"Oh. Please," Gabriel says. "You're always welcome here, Carl."

That crack in my chest pangs again. I take a deep breath. Gabriel gestures me to sit beside him. I do. We don't talk, but Gabriel does pat my knee in greeting, and I get this odd, warm feeling, like I'm much younger than I really am. Like, for a second, I'm fifteen and I'm sitting here for service on Sunday with Sasha and Maggie and Judith, waiting for Gabriel's sermon to begin. It's difficult not to smile. Difficult until I realise that maybe I don't have to try not to smile in the first place, not with him.

Gabriel watches the stain-glass windows ahead of us. The sunlight glistens down on the alter in shards of crimson and orange and green and indigo and violet. I think about painting it. I miss painting...

"We overheard Eugene talking to Gregory," Yumiko says outside to Oliver. "You're going on a mission? To a new community?"

"We are, yeah."

"Well, do you think we could join you?"

I glance over my shoulder at them, and see, through the church doors, the top of their six heads outside at the base of the steps. Oliver shakes his.

"Oh, no, it might not be a good idea. We're on a schedule."

"Look," Yumiko says, calmly, "we care about the people here, we do, but the way things are… we need to see what else is out there."

"I told you… that day..."

"We know. And we know you were right to warn us to leave sooner rather than later, but we didn't. Alright? Come on, you said it yourself, things shouldn't have to be this way."

"I... didn't say that."

"But you wanted to," Magna cuts in. "You just couldn't, right?"

"Shh," Oliver hisses.

"Come on, man," Luke tells him. "Be real with us. We know who you are, and whose grave you and your husband were just standing in front of. We heard what happened."

Connie makes gestures with her hands, but Oliver doesn't understand her, so Kelly translates: "Con says: A lot of things make sense to us now, from that day we met you..."

"Please," Oliver says, a cringe in his voice. "I… really can't talk about this out here. And you shouldn't either. It's… dangerous."

"Well, we should still come," Yumiko says. "You're trying to get to know this new group right? Eugene said something about 'a kind approach'?"

Oliver nods, crossing his arms.

"Well," Yumiko says, "we can help you with that."

"You can?"

"I hate to break it to you, bro," Luke says, "but you're not exactly the most approachable-looking bunch. And Eugene said this Stephanie woman and her group are skittish. With the five of us along with you, we can help soften your edges. Come on. Look at us. We're adorable!"

Oliver's voice has a smile in it as he says, "I don't know. You have my vote. But I'll have to ask Carl and Eugene, too." At this, he turns to the church to see me watching them.

I shake my head.

Oliver turns back to the others.

Luke, seeing our exchange, scoffs, and opens his arms. "Last vote's down to Euge then. Let's go find him!"

As they go, I notice Gabriel smiling at me.

"They're good people," he says, "Oliver did a good thing bringing them here."

"He w..w-asn't so sure."

"I understand. It's a… difficult situation. But Yumiko was injured. There wasn't much of a choice. He made a decision, and it was the right one for the circumstance."

I look into his kind, familiar eyes, at the small smile on his face.

"You know," he says, "I meant what I said earlier. You are welcome here, and not just in the church but here at Alexandria. Both of you, and Judith. I know it's difficult… but we're still family."

I chew my lip, knowing it can't be true. Negan would never allow it.

Suddenly it's hard to keep my chin from shaking.

"Thank you," I tell him, clearing my throat.

Gabriel seems to take my emotional state as a hind, and leaves me to organise the sheet music over by the organ. I don't want to leave yet, so instead I look up at the church ceiling, at the sorrowful paintings and intricate engravings, and I shut my eyes and I pray, trying to wait until the tension in my chest eases. It doesn't feel like it used to, praying. It doesn't make me feel peaceful or protected or like I can trust that everything will be okay, but I pray anyway, just in case the feeling might come back.

After a few minutes, I get up to go find the others. I can only wave Gabriel goodbye because I'm afraid a hug might threaten to dissolve me completely. Oliver and Eugene are at the stables, along with Yumiko, Magna, Connie, Kelly, and Luke. Eric is here, too. When he sees me, he nods downward with a frown.

Oliver and Eugene are bickering.

"They'll only cumber our expedition."

"Cumber?" someone asks.

"You can barely even ride a horse, Eugene," Oliver says. "If anything, you'll... cumber... the… expedition."

Outraged, Eugene huffs and crosses his arms. He looks at Eric. "You vouch for these folk?"

"I do," Eric says flatly. "They're friends."

Eugene twists his mouth up, almost shaking. "And Gregory agreed to it?"

"We went to him first, actually," Yumiko chirps. "He seems glad for a few less mouths to feed."

"Course," Eric grumbles. "More for him."

"Carl already said no," Oliver says to Eugene, "so it's down to your vote."

"Then I, too, say nay!" Eugene hisses.

To this, I catch Oliver's eye, and nod.

"You changed your mind?" he asks me.

I nod again.

Ignoring Eugene's fury, Oliver asks the stable hands to saddle up five more horses. Magna's group look pretty pleased with themselves. Eugene looks around at us all. He uncrosses his arms and snatches Peach Pit's reins, leading the horse out of its stall.

"Well," he huffs, "better get goin' then, before we lose any more daylight."

Yumiko is given a cherry bay mare called Sundae, Magna saddles up a buckskin named Alfredo, Connie takes a bay gelding called Cinnamon Roll, Kelly a dark chestnut called Paprika, and Luke, finally, a black and white paint called Oreo; strangely, he only brings one thing other than his backpack — a narrow rectangular case.

I haven't ridden a horse since I was small and visited the local ranch back in King County with Dad. It's a nice memory to reclaim. As I mount up into Cauliflower's saddle, I try to copy the way Oliver sits on his mare. He's not wobbly like me. He seems to have remembered how to ride well. He pets along Puddin's brown and white neck with a nostalgic smile on his face, catches me watching, and smirks.

"A lot more than a-hundred-and-twelve ounces, huh?"

We ride at a steady trot until we can no longer hear the Satellite Station on our walkie-talkies. There isn't much to do on the journey except get to know the new folks, which is an activity Oliver, Eugene, and I do passively, considering mostly it's only the five of them who talk amongst themselves, or, at least sign. Still, the others tend to speak aloud and sign at the same time, so we pick up a lot about them as we ride miles and miles east.

Kelly, Connie's cousin, is the most agile of their group, while Connie seems to be the most cheerful, and signs a lot of things that make them all fold up laughing. Luke is possibly the second most upbeat person among them, as well as the most talkative. He's kind of goofy, too, whereas Yumiko and Magna have much more serious personalities. It's clear Yumiko is the sensible person of their group, as she's the first to propose searching for somewhere to settle for the night, whereas Magna is more broody and quiet and protective, always watchful of our surroundings, which I appreciate.

We set up a camp under a bridge just outside of Pittsburgh for the night. Since there are eight of us, there's plenty of time for us to sleep each if two of us keep watch for a few hours at a time. Kelly and Magna take first watch at a vantage point by the mesh fence that overlooks the highway into the city, while the rest of us set up our tents or sleeping bags, start a campfire, spool a perimeter wire around the undercarriage, and even set up a few snares just beyond the perimeter where small critters might be tempted to roam through the tall grass.

We gather around the fire to eat our various packed foods, which are mostly sandwiches made back home and some fruit we picked on the way here, so that we can save our preserves for as long as possible.

"Did you three know each other before the Outbreak?" Luke asks us.

"Oh, no," Eugene answers, chewing his unwrapped catfish sandwich. "We met under tense and terrifying circumstances a few years after the world went bust. Cannibals were involved, as were seemingly infinite train tracks... ironically, considering we're headed to a train station presently'n all. There were many others who we lost over time, under… fluctuating circumstances. It is… a lengthy fable. Many aspects of which, my actions have left me... unmentionably shamefaced. I'd require a lot longer than a single night to full divulge it all. A whiskey or two, also, I'd expect." He trails off, awkwardly.

Oliver grits his teeth at the campfire, rolling a bitten apple around in his hand, then turns his head to the others and forces a polite smile. "What about you guys?" he asks, to move on.

Yumiko hesitates, sensing the tension between the three of us. "Uh, I knew Magna before. And after, it was just us for a while," she answers, "then Connie and Kelly joined us, then Luke. There were others, too, but they didn't make it."

She must've heard by now that Eugene was among those who betrayed us in the war, and contributed to our loss. I'm sure none of them ever did something so callous to each other. It's clear, by the way they're all so comfortable with each other, that they've only ever had each other's best interest at heart, even Magna, who looks permanently annoyed. Eugene must notice this, too, because he finds it very difficult to look at any of us for several more minutes.

Connie puts down her tankard to signs something to me, but I don't understand it. I make an apologetic gesture with my shoulders, so Yumiko translates: "She asked, 'What did you do before?'"

Magna glances back to us from watch then, curious.

"I was a teacher," Eugene answers.

"No way," Luke says, "I was a teacher, too. Music."

"Science."

"Teacher gang!"

Eugene nods quickly, and I can practically hear him silently begging Oliver and I not to reveal how he'd lied about his career to us when we met him.

"Guess you two were just school kids, huh?" Luke adds to us. "Like Kelly."

"Seventh grade," Oliver says, and gestures to me. "Sixth. Right?"

I nod and look at Yumiko and Connie expectantly.

"Connie was a kick-ass journalist," Kelly answers. "She exposed a bunch of corrupt politicians and managed to put them in prison."

Connie signs something that looks modest.

Yumiko smiles and turns to us. "She says: "Don't listen to Kelly. They're being melodramatic." She's being humble. That's her thing."

"They?" Oliver asks.

Yumiko nods. "Kelly's pronouns: they, them, their."

Oliver scratches his head, figuring this makes sense, I guess, because he nods. "Okay. I'll try to remember that, but if I forget just say."

"No problem," Kelly says, with a nod of their head.

"Cool," Oliver says. "So, Yumiko, what were you and Magna before?"

"I was a lawyer," Yumiko answers. "Magna was, uh..."

Again, Magna looks around from watch again. "I waited tables at a truck stop."

Connie watches them. She smiles this soft bit, encouragingly.

"You know, it's funny," Luke says, signing his words, too, "before all this, if you saw us all at a table, you'd think we were all work colleagues or something."

Yumiko chuckles. Luke, too, giggles. Connie pats his arm and grins, her eyes all crinkled happily.

"We certainly don't have anything in common," Luke goes on. "Except for the fact that we're breathing. And that's a lot nowadays, right? I mean, it's enough to make us family, pretty much."

I watch them, feeling a stab of envy.

And I think to myself, If only it were so simple...

We get to sleep not long after that, when there's no longer enough light to safely keep the fire going without the risk of attracting attention. It isn't too cold this time of year yet, but it is wetter, which in this case, is just as bad. Sometime around midnight it begins to rain heavily. Eugene and Luke are on watch. The others sleep through it safely tucked away in their tents, but Oliver and I, unfortunately, weren't as forward thinking to bring our own tent and only brought one double sleeping bag and a blanket for ourselves. We have to move out of a forming puddle before it soaks through. It's not as wet in the spot we choose, though, considering we are under the shelter of an underpass.

Damp and shivering, we reset our things. We hang our socks to dry, then curl up together, tucked deep in our sleeping bag, but we're so cold that the first thing I think to do to warm myself up is push my hands into Oliver's underwear. He gasps, which I laugh at quietly, but he must realise what I'm doing because he quickly puts his own hand in my underwear as compromise. I jump, the chill of his fingers cutting right through me.

"Fuck."

"Take what you give, man."

I tut. We warm up quickly, until soon, we stop shivering.

The rain noise slows my mind down. I look at him. I think about him, and he must be feeling the same way because he looks at me, too, and I can feel him reacting in my hands, the same way he can feel me reacting in his hand.

It isn't too difficult to screw around on the road without being noticed or overheard by our camp members, and even if we are, it's universal etiquette by now to ignore it and look the other way. Regardless, I'm sure we don't get caught. We've had plenty of practice to perfect being as quiet and as unassuming as possible without drawing attention, what with our tiny shared bedroom. Here, it's possibly even easier than back at the Sanctuary, because we have the rain to help drown out the sounds of our hands moving under the sleeping bag, our mouths on each others skin, and our bodies moving together...

We must fall asleep afterwards, because the next thing I'm aware of is that it's still raining by the time we have to wake up and take last watch for the remaining few hours until sunrise.

When people begin waking up, Oliver checks the snares for us, but only finds a single hare. He rings its neck quickly. Connie skins it, guts it, and they both cook it over a new fire while the rest of us get ready to go. Finally, they serve us all a small share of the cottontail which Oliver seasons with some nettles he'd picked nearby. It's not much, barely more than a mouthful each, but it still means we can all save our preserves for a little longer, at least.

With everything ready, we mount up and get going.

The rain slows down to barely a light drizzle as we ride through the abandoned city, following a map for the quickest route. The horses' hoof-beats echo through the streets loudly, which makes us all nervous, so we decide the safest thing to do is keep up a steady trot to keep ahead of any lurking walkers who might hear us.

Eugene points out there shouldn't be many around, after a decade, but still insists we assume there's at least a few nearby at all times — "Much like the order of Blattodea."

"Ah," Luke says, "the illustrious cock-a-roach family."

Eugene double takes at him. Luke winks.

"What's with the case?" Eugene asks him, clearly warming up to him.

Luke twists in his saddle, patting the case strapped to Oreo's rump. "This," he says, "is an original Stradivarius, circa..."

"Circa seventeen-twenty-five," Yumiko says over him in a sing-song tune, like she's heard him talk about it a thousand times.

Oliver asks, "Stradi-what?"

"It's an instrument," Magna explains. "A super old instrument."

Kelly snickers, and Connie, who'd been watching our conversation, lets go of her reins to sign: stroking her neck with her hands and sticking her tongue out in a mock-pleasure way. I smile at her, even more confused.

"No, no, it's not a fetish," Luke argues, making a sign with his hand that I can tell is him begging Connie to stop embarrassing him. "It's not a fetish. I don't have a fetish… you know what, whatever. I won't even talk about it. Clearly, it won't be appreciated for its beauty anyway."

Oliver chuckles. Luke rolls his eyes.

"He found it," Yumiko explains mercifully, "in a mansion outside of Philadelphia before it was overrun by sickos. A kid's room, of all places."

"Not like the kid was gonna miss it," Magna says snidely.

Yumiko snickers dryly.

"Why did you bring it with you?"

"It's… art."

"Here we go," Yumiko murmurs, and the others chuckle, like they all love him unconditionally and also already know he's lost his mind. The stab of envy deepens.

"Look," Luke says, "for a very long time, historians and archaeologists have wondered, how did ancient humans survive the Neanderthals? Okay? How did we defeat them? When they were bigger, smarter, stronger, faster, they had better tools than us? So why are we still here and they're not? And then they found a cave. And in that cave, they found a forty-thousand year old flute."

"A flute?" Eugene asks.

Luke laughs, petting Oreo's mane. "Yes. And then they realised that maybe ancient humans didn't defeat Neanderthals. Not in the way that we think of defeat. They came together as an answer to defeat. They shared their stories with each other in the form of music, and paintings, and… they created a common identity. And then they, you know, built communities, and as they grew, Neanderthal died out. So this?"

He raises his Stradivarius.

"This… separates us from the animals. For better or for worse, it brings us together. And if we're going to rebuild something, we can't ignore that… I couldn't leave it at Alexandria."

"That isn't all it'll take," Oliver tells him. "Not anymore. Not in this world."

"Yeah, well, you Saviors are… not the kind of..." Luke stops. "I bury it in the woods every month to make sure it isn't taken on your collections. Please, just, tell me, for my own sake, that you're not, like, bound by some Savior oath to tell on me... This thing is... my soul."

"Technically we are," Eugene says, "but I imagine we won't."

I nod in agreement.

"You're good, man," Oliver assures him, too. "Swear."

Luke sighs, relieved. "Well, anyway... I can't keep it buried out there for more than a few hours at a time. The damage… I couldn't live with myself. It's much safer with me out here."

"It's really that important to you, huh?" Oliver asks.

Luke scoffs. "It's art," he repeats. "Of course it's important."

Oliver smiles at him, then glances at me. "And I thought Michonne was the biggest art-lover around. Remember that cat sculpture?"

I smile, because of course I do. I was there when she found it.

Connie, who's been being signed to by Kelly this whole time, signs something to us.

"She asks, 'Who's Michonne?'" Kelly translates, readjusting Paprika's reins.

"She was someone we lost a long time ago," Oliver explains. "She used to own this ugly rainbow coloured cat sculpture. Really, it was an eye-sore. But, where we lived at the time was pretty colourless, so, as much as we made fun of it, I think we really just loved it. We lost it after that place fell, but luckily, the next place we lived had a lot more colour, so we didn't really need it anymore. Could do with something that colourful in our room now, though."

I let the beat of Cauliflower's walk sway me gently back and forth in the saddle for a moment, reminiscing in memories. I stop soon enough.

We can tell by the context that Connie asks in sign, "What happened to her? Michonne?"

Oliver glances at me, then back to Connie. "She was taken. Negan traded her off to some place. We don't know where."

We fall into silence then.

A few minutes later, I pull Cauliflower to a halt as we pass a bike store, spotting a small children's bike in the window. It's a vibrant shade of green, Judith's favourite colour, and it even has purple tassels on the handlebars, her second favourite colour. I reach across my saddle and grab Oliver's thigh, so he stops his horse beside mine. He looks at me, so I point to the window.

"It's perfect," Oliver says. "We'll come back for it on the way back."

I nod in agreement.

"Come on, Puddin'," Oliver says. I think he's talking to me until he pets Puddin's neck. He laughs. I feel my face heat up, so I nudge Cauliflower's sides to move on ahead.

As we catch up to the others, I think I see something in the corner of my eye. Something pink and fluffy, but it's gone before I'm sure.

We make it through the city without incident by noon, then ride on south-west into West Virginia, and after one more night and day, we arrive at Charleston's train station, a few hours before sunset, ready for Stephanie to meet us.

We lead our horses around back, through a gate, to the train yard, then across the tracks to a particular yellow train freight Stephanie identified to Eugene. As we check inside, I think back to Terminus. A paranoid chill runs down my spine. I climb out of the freight quickly. I help Oliver unsaddle and tether the horses for rest.

"So, what now?" Kelly asks.

Eugene looks around and removes his Stetson hat from his head. "Now we wait..."

We all begin to set up camp together under the cover of the train platform, out of the drizzle. However, before any of us even take a seat, footsteps approach. Our horses spook against their tethers, bumping into each other. Oliver, Eugene, and I draw our guns. Connie and Kelly draw their slingshots, Magna un-sheaths her knives, Luke pulls his mace off his shoulder, and Yumiko snatches an arrow and sets it against her bow string.

"Holy shit!" Oliver says.

Because that's when a few hundred soldiers carrying machine guns, dressed in shining, white armour with helmets that cover their faces invade the whole train yard, out of nowhere.

They surround us.

"HANDS UP! DROP YOUR WEAPONS, NOW!"

Notes

Keeping up with the 'animals-named-after-their-coat-colour' thing except Alexandria's thing is food centric. Peach Pit is named after a random horse in the comics, Sundae is a spin off to the same horse from the main fic only that one's called Sunday, Oreo is a reference to a joke Carol made to Oliver in the main fic, Puddin' is a reference to season 4 (you know the scene), and Cauliflower is the white horse Rick rode in his final episode — I've decided. Paprika, Cinnamon Roll, and Alfredo are just cool names imo.

The weird dashes in Rick's dying dialogue was a reference to/direct copy of the format of Glenn's dying line in the comic. And the chat about the Stradivarius, as I'm sure you guessed, is just copied from the S9 episode 'Stradivarius'.

As always,
Happy reading.