Long live Carl Grimes.

Nightmares seeped into my dreams, shining red like blood.

Screams echoed around my skull in the darkness, those of my old group and those of the new one. I could spot flashes of light curls that I knew were Mason's in the shadows and I could hear his yells above everyone else's, getting closer and closer. But he never came to me.

Something grabbed my hand. "Nevaeh, come on!" It was Carl, shirt soaked dark red and face covered in blood. My heart stopped at the sight of him.

He pulled and tugged on my hand but I couldn't move. "No." I whispered. Carl wasn't supposed to look like that. Not now and not ever.

He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "Wake up!"

"What?"

His eyes were frantic and filled with panic. "Wake up!"

I shot up so quick black dots swarmed my eyesight. I was quick to blink them away and adjust myself to my surroundings. I was in the tent Andrea and I shared, not..whatever that place was. Carl sat in front of me, blue eyes big and worried.

"What…" I didn't notice how out of breath I was until I spoke. "Why are you in here?"

"My mom told me to come wake you up. Carol's making breakfast." His words are said slow, like he's calculating whether or not he's right in saying them. He stares at me, scans my form as if looking for injuries, and then asks, "Are you okay?"

The concern in his voice catches me off guard. I break away from our eye contact and ignore the excitement of someone caring for me swirling in my stomach. "Uh, yeah. I'm fine, it was just a nightmare." I'm too scared to look at his eyes again because I know they'll be filled with pity, so I clear my throat and throw the jacket that I used as a pillow on my arms before grabbing my sword and standing. I wince as I do, the pain in my thighs acting as a reminder of my bewildering horse ride yesterday. I hope the boy sitting below me didn't notice as I power through the sting and continue, "I'm hungry. Let's go eat."

I feel like a jerk as I leave him there. The twist in my gut at my actions is ignored as I set my eyes out on a mission for food. Andrea sharpens a knife to my left. She sends me an icy blue good morning glance before returning to her actions. Thank God Carl was the one to wake me up mid-nightmare and not her. I'd get the ultimate pity treatment and I really didn't need her to be seeing me as a child at the moment.

I divert my eyes from the woman to a man I didn't get the opportunity to meet yesterday, squeezed into a dirty blue lawn chair. His head of unruly brown hair is bent, occupied with scarfing down the eggs of his plate. He wears a button down shirt, but the sleeves are ripped off, showing that he is definitely not one who goes for fancy attire. I can't see his eyes yet I still feel like he could kill me with a glance.

I look away when his gaze starts to lift.

I try to keep my eyes from wandering as I walk up to the small fire surrounded by Carol and T-Dog, who I met in passing last night. He'd just smiled and said welcome. He also called me Newbie, which is something I'm unsure if I like. I force a smile onto my face in greeting even though my eyes are slightly blurry from sleep and the sweat created by my nightmares still lingers on my neck. Carol sends me a small one back. I haven't had a conversation with her yet. I feel like all that will come out of one is suffering and heartache and I'm not ready for that right now. Maybe when we find Sophia I will be.

T-Dog wipes his fingers on the towel draped around his droplet- covered neck and reaches for a plate piled with fresh eggs. I smell them before the ceramic even touches my fingers and my mouth immediately begins to water. He smirks at me. "Here you go, Newbie."

Yeah. I like my real name better.

"Thanks." I manage out through my hidden displeasure, slipping a fork from the pile on a separate towel laid out on the ground and moving to sit next to Lori when she motions me over to her and her husband.

"Good morning, sweetheart." She greets me in a motherly tone. It's irritating and comforting at the same time.

I shove a forkful of eggs into my mouth to hide the frown that was beginning to crease onto my face. "Morning." I mumble around the food.

Carl comes stepping out of the tent Andrea and I share a second later, boyish grin so wide and bright it took away from the intensity of the bags under his happy blue eyes. As he grabbed a plate from the two group members attending the fire and grew closer to where I sat, I studied him more. I didn't care that he was looking at me and could clearly tell I was staring at him, I was intrigued. The dark circles hiding under those eyelashes gave way to the struggles he hid behind that joy he hit me with constantly. They were from the stress of Sophia, no doubt. Whether we would find her, whether she would be all right, whether she was even alive. I wanted to pat his shoulder and tell him everything was okay, that we'd be okay and everyone else would be too, but I couldn't.

It was all lies. Lies that I wished would come true but never would.

I pull my steady stare away from him to continue engulfing the delicious food on my plate. When I finish, Lori offers to take my plate and I let her, feeling like it'll give her some satisfaction. I've been catching the glances she sends at me from the corner of her eye and it's beginning to frustrate me to an extent to where I don't mind if she leaves my side for a few minutes. Or hours.

As she stands, I'm given a clear shot of Rick. I'm glad to see his shoulders are relaxed, but with the faraway look in his bloodshot and tired eyes, that doesn't mean anything. Add the dark bags and he looks downright pitiful. I want to say something to him. I scan my brain for anything, but come up blank. If I had something to say I would have applied it to myself already because I know I'm having as much trouble as him dealing with everything.

He must sense my stare because he turns his head and meets my eyes directly. I offer a small smile without any emotion behind it and I can tell he sends the same thing right back. I'm the first to look away, my soul weighing with the realization of just how much hope has been depleted from all of these people. It's a hard resource to come by these days, but I plan on keeping it in my veins until I'm able to draw Sophia from memory of spending time with her.

I feel a poke in my arm - a fork-like poke - and then Carl's voice is right next to my ear. "When I have nightmares, my Mom always says it's better to talk about them." My defenses soften, just slightly. I look over at him in time to see him shrug his shoulders, the shy smile on his lips showing me a whole new side of his personality. His voice is small and maybe a little bit insecure when he says, "You can talk to me. If you want."

I chew on the inside of my cheek in the seconds following his offer. "Okay." I finally respond, just to give him a break and open myself up to the possibility of trusting him. We're friends - that's what he said, at least - and I think it'd be nice to talk to someone again. I shoot a glance at Rick, my previous thoughts bombarding my brain again. We were supposed to be going out to look for Sophia today and I knew Carl wouldn't like it and surely find it unfair, so I'm unsure whether or not I should tell him about it. But, if I don't, will he be mad at me? I don't think I want to see him mad. Especially at me.

I let out a sigh. Friendships are so complicated.

"Um, guys," A voice I recognize as Glenn's only from the amount of uncertainty in it cuts through my emotional turmoil and causes my sight to shift upwards. I'm unsurprised to see him shifting from leg to leg. His dark eyes dart everywhere but to the eyes of other group members. I see his Adam's apple bob from where I sit as he rubs a nervous hand against his cheek.

The people around me glance at him but otherwise go back to consuming their food. I keep my attention on him, especially after I spot Dale's expression. His eyebrows are raised high, expecting, and his brown eyes are burning a hole through Glenn's head. I copy the look as I focus back on the man, mentally yelling at him to spit out what he's stuttering under his breath.

"The barn's full of walkers." I'm consumed in watching his shoulders sag and the tension that I hadn't even known was tightening his face ease away.

I don't even comprehend what he said until Shane lets out an outraged, "What?!", slams his plate down on one of the dark wooden tables around the camp and marches off in the direction of the structure with a scowl that makes a shiver go down my spine.

Walkers.

Barn.

I'm not even sure how to take the new onslaught of information, but I am sure that my stomach churns with fear. Images flash across my mind. Walkers stumbling over gates strewn with barbed wire. Dark red liquid spilling over the grey concrete of driveways. Warm brown eyes slowly losing their warmth and the light of life in them. My heart constricts. I hear it pounding in my ears, loud and clear.

Fingers wrap around my forearm and I flinch hard, but they don't let go. I look for the source, only to find my eyes are too blurry with the supply of water to see clearly. "Nevaeh." the voice is calm and soft over the noise in my ears and I struggle to grasp onto it.

I try to respond with something, anything, but all that comes out is a sharp and heartbreaking gasp. All I can see is blood. So much blood. So red. So dark.

"I...I...can't." I manage to force out, the struggle and pain in my voice completely overwhelming me. I did so well in keeping my wall constructed and now it's broken again and I can't put the rubble back in place.

The grip on my flesh disappears and suddenly I'm wrapped up in arms. I know it's not Carl judging by the strength and size of them, but the person's chest is warm and comforting, so I lean into them. I try to blink away the tears and swallow hard and painfully to push back the approaching sobs, but with the way my breathing is growing ragged, it's not working well. The person securing me in their arms rubs a soothing hand over my back and I can feel the assurance it carries slipping through all of the fabric.

"It's okay to cry, Nevaeh. I do it too." With the nervous energy absent, I can barely tell it's Glenn's voice. My trust for this group grows with the realization. The two of us had only spoken once and it was awkward and short, but here Glenn was, wrapping his arms around me like Mason always did when I was upset and saying it was okay to cry. The tone in his voice told me judgement was the last thing shining in his eyes. He wanted me to trust him enough to bring him into the rubble inside my heart and show him me. The me whose stomach dropped with fear of getting bit every time she saw a walker, the me who sees the family picture flash across her eyes everytime someone smiles and tempts her to do so too.

And the thing that both scares and exhilarates me at the same time?

I bury my head into his shirt and let everything escape, the sobs, the tears, the misery, the pain of being all alone, the relief of finding Carl and having his shine of innocence in my life, the satisfaction of having Glenn - having a human being - care about my well being enough to stay behind when the group angrily marched down to an undead filled barn to talk about a very important threat and pick up the pieces that didn't glue as well as others when I haphazardly stuck my shattered pieces back together.

All of those emotions, powerful and overwhelming, fall onto the white shirt Glenn wears as small blobs of grey through my blurry vision. Something so simple, a drop of water that would dry in the sun as quick as it appears on the material, is destroying me. The man enveloping me in his arms runs his fingers into a curl lying against my back and watches it bounce back as an absent-minded action, while I can only think of one thing:

It isn't supposed to be this way.

I sniffle so I don't get snot on his perfect shirt and swipe my hand against my cheeks to wipe away the wet trails even though they're quickly being replaced. "It should have been me. I shouldn't have survived." I murmur, not realizing the words even slipped past my lips until Glenn's fingers dig gently into my shoulders and pull me away from his dotted chest.

His lips are pursed, eyes widened just enough so I can see the worry and spark of anger in the dark brown of them. "Hey," He says, so softly I can barely hear him over the rustle of the wind in the trees. "Don't think like that."

I watch as the sun transforms the lighter specks of brown in his irises into a pretty gold. I'd have to draw him, too. He was one of those people that maybe weren't that noticeable with one glance, but his eyes were gentle and sweet and when I really studied him, he was kind of adorable. Like a small little brother you just wanted to hug. Or in my case, an older one.

The turn of my thoughts puts a sour taste in my mouth and I'm back into the conversation with a new blow of hurt. "Why not? I can't survive like this."

A corner of Glenn's lips lift. "You already are." His attention shifts, just for a moment, when we hear an angry yell come from the direction of the barn, but it's back on me in an instant. "We've all lost somebody close to us. It's just the way you cope with it that decides how you survive."

I mull that over in my mind, trying to contemplate if he's actually as correct as he sounds. "How do you cope?"

Glenn sighs, bringing one hand up to remove his dusted baseball cap and the other to run through his jet black hair. "I just try to remember that they wouldn't want me in pain over them." His voice slowly fades away with the chilly breeze and he shifts his vulnerable gaze down, offering me a half-hearted shrug. "It works most of the time."

I want to ask about what he does when 'most of the time' fails and who exactly he lost to put him here, in this group with people I can barely believe are this welcoming and trusting.

But I don't. Instead I think about Mason and Mom and Dad and how they would react to me breaking down over them like this. I voluntarily flash back to that night for once, the specks of blood on the rug and the pallor of Mason's skin is almost felt under my fingertips. I see him in front of me, fading eyes filled with understanding and cheeks stained with dry streams.

Nevaeh, you will never be alone. I'm always gonna be there. So are Mom and Dad. We may not be next to you, but we're in your memories and that's what counts. You're going to get out of here and you are going to run as fast as you can, okay? Run until you find a group that will protect you, love you like family. A group just like this one. Move on from them, from me. You need to live.

It feels like I'm swallowing sawdust. "I need to live." I croak out, so quiet I don't think Glenn is able to hear it. I found a group just like he said. Now all I have to do is move on and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to do that.

But I found a group. I'm getting somewhere.

I loosely wrap my arms around Glenn's neck and pull myself closer to him. "Thank you." I mumble into his shoulder with genuine feeling.

It takes him a second to respond with a few pats and a, "Always." The honesty laced into that word makes me want to burst into tears again.

Silence encompasses us when I let go and even though it's comfortable for once, I hate the soft ringing of it in my ears. So I ask, "Is that why you were so nervous yesterday? Because of the whole barn thing?"

Glenn accepts the subject change and nods, slipping his hat back over his hair. "Yeah. That and...uh...Maggie." His knee begins to bounce and I'm about to kid him about it when I fully register his sentence.

"Maggie!? Beth's sister?" I question, my voice coming out surprisingly enthusiastic.

Glenn's eyebrows furrow, most likely wondering about my sudden excitement too, but a wide lopsided smile is forming on his lips. "Yeah, she's Beth's sister. She's-"

"Alive." Slips out of my mouth with a large amount of relief for Beth. Thank God those suns were still stuck on that frame because there was light in her life. Glenn's looking at me with confused and jubilant eyes and it's not until I meet his gaze that I realize I'm smiling. It brings me out of my grateful haze. "Wait, what does Maggie have to do with why you were nervous earlier?"

"Well...uh," Fiddling fingers join his jumping leg and I bite my tongue to keep it from saying anything about it because now I'm more than interested to hear what he has to say. "She was kind of the reason I found out about the barn and she didn't want me to tell anyone, but I had to. It's just-"

"You didn't want to because you like her." I guess, his smile nudging memories from the back of my mind.

Glenn blinks. "How'd you know that?"

I purse my lips together and take a deep breath, remembering what he'd told me just a few minutes ago. Be strong because that's what they'd want. "My Dad used to smile like that whenever he talked about my Mom."

His smile falters and I watch him figure out what the use of the word 'used' means in my sentence. He clears his throat and looks conflicted just for a second before he sighs. "That doesn't really matter. She hates me now."

My defenses collapse with alleviation and my respect for Glenn grows. "No she doesn't. If she's Beth's sister, she can't hate you." Beth is the nicest person I've ever met even with the loss of her Mom and there's no way someone can grow up with a sister like that and hate someone for protecting people. Even if it meant spilling a secret. "Go find her."

The expression Glenn takes on helps a smile overtake my lips again. His eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. "Now?"

"Yes, now." I bump his shoulder with mine for encouragement. "Find her and get her to talk to you."

Now both of his legs bob up and down. He's scattering leaves underneath his worn sneakers, the dirt speckling them getting thrown onto my ankles. "Okay." He breathes. "Okay."

"Go. And don't be nervous, she's just a girl."

The look Glenn sends me says that I'm not helping one bit, but he stands and begins to walk towards the white farmhouse anyway. "Good luck!" I call to his retreating form and he sends me an agitated smile over his shoulder that causes me to chuckle.

And this time the sound doesn't take me by surprise.

Those who journeyed down to the barn return in groups, Lori and Carl first. The latter plops down beside me the second he sees the rim of red around my eyes and stares into my soul. I want to look away from him, avoid the way he seems to appear like he knows everything and is just waiting for me to confirm it, but I know I'll just be drawn back to the blue of his irises. "You okay?" He asks, his voice a volume only the two of us can hear in our own bubble

I scan over the conversation that I just had in my head, taking out the important details and burning the memory of suffering it took for me to break apart enough for Glenn to get to me. I laugh airily and it's anything but humorous. "That's a good question."

Without breaking the stare we have, Carl reaches for my wrist. It's a gentle hold that moves further down my hand to my smallest finger. He wraps his pinky around my own, a gesture that feels meaningful even though we'd just established it yesterday. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He sounds so burdened - so understanding - that I can't believe he's my age. It's hard to remember that he hasn't lost anyone enough to truly suffer yet and there's no way he'll be able to comprehend the pain I have beating around inside of me, but he's trying and that's more than I've gotten in a while. You can talk to me, he'd said.

"Sure."