Claire's throat hurt. Crying only made it worse; every swallow was like pushing a baseball down her gullet. Yet, she welcomed it. As odd as it was, the pain served as a welcome distraction. Claire concentrated on the physical sensation, allowing it to sweep over her. It helped put a distance between herself and the other, more visceral source of pain, or else it would consume her.
The van hit another pothole, throwing Claire and the other unwilling occupants off balance. She gritted her teeth, willing her stomach to settle. She'd never been prone to carsickness, or any other kind of sickness for that matter. It was an unsettling feeling, to say the least.
They'd been stuck in there for hours, cramped inside the back of a moving, windowless van. It was a lot like the one they'd driven out of Jersey before everything took a turn for the worse. Unlike before, the man in the front seat wasn't their friend. He was certainly no angel. He was a bully and a murderer, and if it wasn't for the metal sheet between them and the fact that he had Judith and Oliver sitting in his lap, Claire might've picked up Michonne's sword and stabbed him in the back.
They hit another bump in the road. Claire pressed a hand to her mouth. She couldn't help the gagging sound that escaped her.
A hateful voice called out from the front. "If you're gonna hurl, make sure you swallow that shit down."
"Asshole," Claire rasped bitterly, not caring if he heard her.
"Try breathing through your nose," Enid suggested softly. Her voice was thicker than usual. She'd been crying.
Her friend's suggestion didn't help much with Claire's nausea, but she kept at it anyway. How long before they'd reach Alexandria? It was difficult to gauge the passage of time, sitting around in the dark. Claire wondered if it was still night outside, and if Scott and Jake actually made it to Sanctuary.
No, not Jake. The walker.
"It should've been me," Mikey whispered, so low Claire barely heard him.
"Knock it off," she shot back, a little harsher than intended.
"You know it's true," Mikey said, the pain in his voice amplified by the darkness. "I've been nothing but dead weight, all this time. He was stronger, braver-"
"Stop it," Enid interrupted, breath hitching. "Don't say things like that."
Claire knocked her head back against the van's wall. She was acutely aware of the Saviors sitting in the front, listening to their every word. This was private. This was painful. They didn't deserve to hear it.
"You're wrong," Claire finally said, fighting to keep her voice even. "You idiot," she added for good measure.
"He deserved better," Mikey added miserably.
She swallowed, focusing on the dull ache in her throat. "Yeah, he did."
It had been the worst kind of torture, watching it happen. The Saviors had taken the twins away. Not by car, np. They'd forced Scott to clamp a restraint around Jake's neck. Jake's body. His mindless, snarling, feral body.
Scott hadn't even looked at them. Not even once. He'd needed every bit of strength to lead Jake, the walker, away. Back to Sanctuary, where they hung traitors for all to see.
"He was scared," Carl said in a hollow voice. His words, although quiet, seemed to reverberate in the darkness. "He was so fucking scared and I convinced him to come with us anyway."
"That's not on you," Enid whispered. She hadn't seen it happen, but she'd passed the horrid march on her way back from Sanctuary. She'd seen Scott lead Jake's undead body away with that horrible pole, heard the Saviors' taunts and mocking laughter.
"I told him we'd protect him." Carl's voice was laden with bitter resentment and self-loathing.
Although she couldn't see anything beyond faint silhouettes, Claire's eyes squeezed shut. Bile rose in her throat. She choked it down. It wasn't fair. None of it. It wasn't fair.
"Don't do this to yourself, Carl," Michonne said softly. She'd been so quiet, Claire had almost forgotten she was there. "This kind of thinking… it will eat you alive."
Hesitantly, afraid to hear the answer, Enid asked, "What happened while we were gone?"
"Who else?" Carl demanded. It didn't take a psychic to figure out what he meant. Who else had been murdered?
Michonne hesitated. Claire had only known her for a few hours, but she didn't strike her as someone who minced words. "Denise, Abraham, Glenn." Each name was uttered with a heavy weight of grief. "They took Daryl. We've been - "
"Dad's been working with them," Carl stated, his words laced with anger. "They said they were looking for me. What the hell, Michonne?"
Michonne leaned forward so sharply that her hair grazed Claire's face. "That's not true." Her tone was low, and fiercely protective. "Your father's been working himself to the ground, keeping them from hurting anyone else."
"Why didn't you fight?" Carl demanded, his voice almost breaking. "Why didn't you kill them already? Dad could've - "
"Carl!" said Michonne sharply, cutting him off. "We'll talk later ."
It was the right call, of course. They were not alone. Behind the thin metal sheet separating them, Negan began to whistle. A cheerful tune, an uncomfortable reminder of his presence. Carl wasn't stupid. He got the hint and snapped his mouth shut, his anger permeating the air like poison.
The small light affixed to the van's roof blinked and flickered. For a moment or two, Claire was able to see her friends' stricken faces. Enid was crying silently into her sleeve, knees tucked into her chest. Carl was staring into nothing, mouth set in a thin line. Then the light faded again, casting them back into darkness.
For a moment, Claire thought she'd felt something. But no. It was only the van's shitty wiring, it had nothing to do with Castiel and his flaring grace. Claire took his cool, limp hand into hers and squeezed. A part of her was still waiting for a miracle.
The Saviors had almost left Castiel behind. It had taken some hysterics on Claire's part to convince Negan otherwise. They'd dumped Castiel into the back of the van, leaving the stretcher behind. Carelessly, hastily, like tossing away last week's leaky garbage bag. They'd thrown in Michonne's sword as well, taunting them, saying how they'd better use it fast.
Joke's on them. Castiel wasn't turning anytime soon. Although, in his weakened state, she wasn't quite sure how vulnerable he really was. His wounds weren't healing but they weren't worsening, either. Anyone else would've died from the blood loss alone, never mind the walkers using him like a chew toy.
The light flickered again. Michonne was watching Claire, looking tense and concerned. No doubt, she was waiting for Castiel to surge awake in the tight confines of the van.
"He's not dead." Trying to reassure her, Claire reached for Michonne's hand. She pressed her fingers to Castiel's pulse point, knowing it would be slow and steady.
Claire felt rather than heard Michonne's quiet sigh. "I've never seen anyone this bad last this long," Michonne admitted, drawing back. "Is he your father?" she asked.
A joyless laugh bubbled in Claire's chest. "It's complicated."
A hush fell over them as the van slowed down to a crawl. Have they reached Alexandria? Claire sat up straight, ears perked. She thought she could hear a brief exchange outside. Something was moving. A gate? She thought so.
They inched forward slowly, then reversed, getting into position. The Saviors were welcome in Alexandria, it seemed. Dread filled her gut. She'd pictured this moment before, but never quite like this.
"You're early," a man said, tired with a hint of underlying anger. "We weren't expecting you back so soon."
"Rick!" Negan called out cheerfully, as though he was greeting an old friend. The van dipped and shuddered when he climbed out. "You're never going to believe what I found."
Even through the metal, Claire could clearly hear the sharp intake of breath, the shuddering sob. Negan was still talking, of course, spewing a hundred words a minute. It was impossible to tell what the man, Rick, was saying.
Rick Grimes, that was Carl's dad, wasn't it? He was crying, that much Claire could tell.
"Don't hold back on my account," said Negan sarcastically, voice oozing with pleasure.
No one opened the door for them. Negan was biding his time, putting on his little performance. From the sound of it, he was having the time of his life. Claire could feel the anger radiating off of Carl in waves.
It was easy to picture Negan's shark grin. "I've been thinking, Rick. Isn't it time I give something back to the community? Show how much I appreciate all the work you've done for me? Well, here I am. Father fucking Chrismas. Saint Nicky in the flesh. And that's not everything." He paused for dramatic effect. "Carl, get the fuck out here."
The van doors flew open. Claire blinked, pupils adjusting to the light. A small crowd was waiting for them. Most of them were Saviors, grim-faced, cruel. Enjoying the show.
Claire guessed that the man holding Judith like a precious treasure was Rick Grimes. Far from the formidable, ruthless figure her friends had painted, Rick stood like someone close to collapsing. Like someone who was fighting a losing war with gravity. His pale, bloodshot eyes widened when he saw his son.
"Carl," Rick whispered hoarsely.
It was not the happy reunion Claire had pictured. A moment passed. Neither of them moved.
Losing patience, Negan rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Will you get out here, kid? Give your dad a hug before he keels over? Jesus."
"This is a joke," Carl muttered, leaving the van with his head hanging low and fists clutched at his sides.
Stiffly, he walked toward his wide-eyed father. Then Rick made an indescribable sound. He pulled Carl to him, squeezing him and Judith both, face tucked into his son's shoulder. He didn't seem to care the slightest bit about their audience.
Negan began to clap. The Saviors, taking his cue, followed suit. They jeered, cheered, and hooted. A few of them whistled. It was ridiculous, Claire thought in anger. It was obscene.
In sharp contrast to his father, Carl was as stiff as a board. He wasn't crying. He was fuming.
Slowly, one by one, Michonne and the others climbed out as well. Claire peered outside, reluctant to leave Castiel alone inside the van. Alexandria was everything Claire had pictured in her mind. A suburban paradise for even the most hardened survivor. No one looked happy, though. Relieved, maybe, but not happy.
A short, broad-shouldered man caught Mikey in a bear hug. His father, no doubt. A stout woman in glasses was trying to speak to Enid, even though the ghost-faced Enid ignored her completely.
"This is so messed up," Claire sighed to herself. She turned around, debating on how to get Castiel out of the van.
A Savior appeared at the doors, a muscle-bound giant with an ugly sneer. He grabbed Claire by the arm. "What are you waiting for?" he grunted. "Get the fuck out."
Caught off guard, Claire might've fallen flat on her face if Michonne hadn't caught her. "Thanks," Claire mumbled.
Michonne inched closer. She gave Claire a hard stare. "You're burning up," she stated, brow furrowed.
Claire glared. "I'm fine." Then she spotted the same Savior reaching into the van. He pulled Castiel out by his ankles, yanking him out with a grunt of effort. "No! Stop!" Claire cried out.
As if in slow motion, Castiel's unconscious tumbled to the ground, crumpled and undignified. The bandages on his chest shifted, revealing the hideous staples holding his flesh together. They'd done the best they could, back in that ruined town.
"Jesus," the huge Savior mocked, using his boot to turn Castiel fully onto his back. "Check out Frankenstein's monster over here."
Claire screamed. She flung herself over Castiel, covering him with her own body as best as she could. Shielding him from the Saviors and the crowd's curious stares alike. "Don't touch him!"
The Savior smirked, but before he could do anything, Carl shook his father off and rushed to stand between her and the Savior. "Leave them alone," Carl said darkly, giving the man a hard shove.
The Savior was a big man; he didn't even stumble. "Why?" he sneered, puffing his considerable chest. "He's dead meat anyway."
"You'll be dead meat soon enough," Carl promised, unflinching.
Before things could escalate, Negan sauntered between the two, clicking his tongue. "Carl," he intoned smoothly, throwing his arm around Carl's tense shoulder, "were you just threatening one of my guys?"
Claire lifted her head slightly. She didn't let go of Castiel, but she shot a pleading look at Carl. It was a power play, she knew, and Carl was dead if he didn't play it right.
Rick tried to intervene. "He didn't mean to." He'd handed Judith over to one of the townspeople, and was subtly trying to angle his body so that Negan would move away from Carl. "He doesn't understand yet."
Negan wasn't having it. "Excuse me, Rick. I'm talking to the boy with the giant set of huevos."
"...Sorry," Carl offered reluctantly, sounding anything but.
Negan's sharp gaze flitted between father and son. He thumped Carl on the shoulder. "I love this kid," he told Rick, smiling brightly.
Then he let out a shrill whistle. "Pack it up, boys!" he called, signaling his Saviors to move out. He angled his head toward Rick, adding, "They'll be back in three days to collect."
Rick inhaled sharply. "We need more time - "
"Rick," Negan said, tone dropping low in warning. "Do you have any idea how ungrateful you sound right now?"
Lips drawn in a thin line, Rick didn't answer. For a moment, Claire thought he was going to lash out. The moment passed.
"I'm sorry," Rick managed to bite out.
That didn't seem to satisfy Negan in the slightest. He inclined his head toward one of the Saviors. "Why don't you ask my man here how much he'd love to be in your position right now?" It seemed like a rhetorical question, because immediately, Negan asked, "Gary, do you have children?"
The Savior, Gary, pulled a locket from under his shirt's collar. "I lost my little girl, boss. She's buried with her mother. God rest their souls." He kissed the locket before slipping it back under his collar.
Still staring at Rick, face hard, Negan prompted another Savior, "Regina?"
"Three boys," Regina replied harshly. She stared at Rick with a look of contempt.
Negan nodded slowly. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are? How many would kill to be where you are right now?" He took a step closer, putting his face an inch away from Rick's. "In fact, I don't think I even heard a goddamn thank you from you, did I?"
Rick looked away first. "Thank you," he whispered.
Still so close he could kiss Ruck if he wanted to, a slow smile spread across Negan's mouth. "Actually, I think we'll be back in two days."
With a promise of a speedy return, the Saviors left the way they came. Claire waited until the gate rolled shut behind them, until she could no longer hear their engines rumbling. Rick was waiting too. He stood at the closed gate, pinching the bridge of his nose. It wasn't until Michonne sidled up to him that his shoulders lost their tension. Sighing deeply, Rick melted into Michonne's touch.
"Thank you," Rick breathed into Michonne's hair. This time, he actually sounded like he meant it.
Claire jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. It was Enid, pale and exhausted, but somehow able to grace Claire with a small smile. "We have an infirmary. He'll be more comfortable there."
"We've got him," Carl said, gently nudging Claire away from Castiel.
Was she shaking? It was hard to tell. Being sick sucked, Claire decided.
Knowing her waning strength would be of no help, Claire stepped back, leaving room for Carl, Enid, and Mikey to try and lift Castiel. She was disheartened to see them fail miserably. Castiel was much heavier than he looked. Without the stretcher, lifting his dead weight was a struggle for the exhausted teenagers. They had to lower him back to the ground not a moment later.
Carl was huffing, hat drooped low over his forehead. "We should get a gurney or something," he muttered. He flinched when his father placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Son," Rick said gently, "let me help you."
Without him needing to say a word, a few townspeople stepped forward to help. Although obviously wary that Castiel could turn at any given moment, they followed Rick's lead. Or tried to, at least. Rick waved most of them off, then nodded at a black man in a priest's tab collar. The priest picked Castiel up by the legs, steering Rick and himself backward, deeper into Alexandria.
Claire met Carl's eye. They shared a tiny, secret grin. If that guy was a real priest, Claire thought, he was going to lose his mind if he ever found out he'd carried a bona fide angel of the Lord like a sack of potatoes.
"Claire," Oliver piped up, appearing next to her. Claire nearly jumped out of her skin. Sometimes the little boy could be so quiet, she'd forget he was even there. Oliver looked at her with big, bright eyes. He seemed quite unbothered by everything that had just taken place.
"You okay?" Claire asked with a sigh.
"Do we live here now?" Oliver asked, tilting his head curiously.
"I don't know," Claire admitted. "Why don't you go have a look around? See if you like it?"
He nodded. Claire watched him go. At least behind the walls, she didn't have to keep such a close eye on him. Not any more than a normal kid his age. She wondered if he'd be sad, after she was gone. Sometimes it seemed like nothing could affect him.
Every moment that passed, Claire felt closer to death. Maybe Castiel would wake up in time to save her. Maybe not. It was a disconcerting feeling, not knowing where she stood. Not too long ago, she had a plan. She never meant to stick around. Castiel had to find his Dean, after all, and Claire thought she was supposed to help him.
Sighing, Claire began to limp after the group. The ache in her knee flared. Cursing, Claire flailed in a clumsy attempt to keep her balance. She would've failed, but once again, Michonne was there to catch her.
"Were you bitten too?" Michonne asked plainly, keeping her voice low.
Biting her lip, Claire nodded.
Michonne's sharp gaze softened. "I'm sorry."
Claire pulled her arm back. "Why? You didn't bite me."
Michonne didn't seem to think that it was all that funny. She leveled Claire with a stare, tilting her head. "For what it's worth, Claire - thank you."
"For what?" Claire wondered with a frown, caught off guard.
Michonne gave her a soft smile. "For bringing Carl and Judith home," she said earnestly. "For being there."
Claire snorted. "Didn't you hear?" she asked bitterly. "Negan brought them home."
Michonne's lips curved in a wry smile. She had a sense of humor, at least.
"He's also Santa Clause," Michonne said sarcastically. She took Claire by the elbow. "Come on, infirmary's not far."
A/N: I'm sorry for the last chapter. I wonder how many of you noticed that I've been hinting at Jake's death for quite some time. Is it truly over for him? We'll have to wait and see.
The next chapter will be the last one. But as one story ends, another begins :)