Summary: Carl, the farmer's son, grapples with two sides of himself — the pig feeder, and the killer…

~ Carl ~

After almost a month away, Michonne and Daryl arrive back to the prison finally. I'm the first to notice from the pig pen and I'm the first to be told not to get involved, too, by Dad, who goes ahead with everyone else, without me, and I'm left with a muck-bucket in my arms which I empty into Violet's trough.

I watch her gobble it up.

Over at the gate, Dad and Tyreese pull levers to let Michonne's truck pull inside past the spikes and the walkers at the gate, up towards the courtyard. Daryl smokes from the passenger seat. The truck's open-back is full of new supplies and —I spot— another stray, like we're some animal shelter.

Placing the empty bucket by the fence, I leave the pig pen. Dad eyeballs me on his way up the driveway. I look as innocent as I can to placate him.

"You finished with chores?" he calls out.

I nod, and he beckons me to walk with him and Tyreese. Gravel cracks under our shoes while we head up the driveway and into the courtyard.

"Another kid," Dad says, and glances at me in this hopeful way that I pretend not to notice. Instead, I watch the parked truck. The boy —the stray— is sitting in the open-back between two crates of scavenged supplies, looking lanky and scruffy and anxious. His head swivels around to look at everything.

"Looks more spooked than the last one," Tyreese says.

"Probably hasn't seen a settlement like this before," Dad says, and I almost snort, thinking this isn't a settlement, it's a prison, in the most honest sense of the word, and again Dad looks at me like he wants something from me, and again, I don't meet his face. Finally, he pats my shoulder and says, "Go'n — play soccer with your friends."

I don't want to.

"Go, Carl…"

Sighing, I head obediently for D block while Dad and Tyreese go to meet the others at the truck. I walk slowly enough so I can watch them.

"Haven't got much outa him, just his name."

"He called me ma'am," Michonne says, smirking.

"He answer the questions?" Dad asks.

Daryl nods. He, Dad, and Michonne exchange glances, and collectively, without words, they seem to deem the boy harmless.

Dad pats the boy's shoulder. "Welcome…"

The boy hesitates. "Oh. Err…"

"This is Oliver…" Michonne says.

"Welcome, Oliver. You were out there by yourself?"

The boy nods to him.

"Been on your own for a while? A few days?"

"I don't know… I lost count after a few months."

Dad frowns disbelievingly. "How old are you?"

"I… I don't know."

"Well, when's your birthday? We've kept track of time — give or take a few days here and there maybe."

"September thirtieth, nineteen-ninety-six."

Dad smiles. "Well, by our calendar, you're fifteen, as of yesterday."

The boy's eyes get a little watery then.

He says, in a far away voice, "Five months…"

Dad looks at the others, confused. "What?"

The boy shakes his head, looking uncomfortable. "I… I've been alone for… five months…"

Dad puts a hand on his shoulder. "Well you're not alone anymore. You're here."

I don't know why the torn up look on the boy's face makes me uncomfortable. I turn to go inside, to 'play soccer with Patrick', but then Dad asks for the boy's machete and I wait to see what he will do…

Nothing.

Just hands it over.

My gut sinks.

I've been standing in the doorway too long — a girl, Teddy, walks out, bidding me a short, "Hey," as she passes that I don't return. Instead I step aside and watch Daryl and Tyreese unpack the supplies.

"I'll show you in D block," Michonne tells the boy, "where you'll be staying. I'll introduce you to everyone."

I don't enjoy this idea. I'm always introduced as Rick's kid, the farmer. I consider dashing from D block now and disappearing into the tombs alone, or, if Patrick and I are quick enough, we can get outside in time to avoid any introductions.

Well, I don't like the tombs.

Patrick's getting dressed when I find him. He was a stray once, too. Still is, I guess, but he doesn't talk to me while I draw, so, for a stray, he's okay. At his cell, I clap my hands and tell him, "Soccer time. Let's go, let's go!"

He startles, then laughs. "Dude, who are you and what have you done with Carl Grimes?"

"Maybe I want to play today?"

"Yeah, right. And I'm immune." He yanks on his shirt and leaves the cell. I follow, hoping I seem enthusiastic, but I can feel the boredom already heavying my shoulders as we make our way through the cell floor. "Oh." He stops and turns on his heel, slapping my chest as he passes. "Forgot the ball, dude."

"There'll be one out there."

"Yeah, sure, like last time, when I had to come all the way back to get one."

I groan and wait for him, wishing he would speed up already until—

Michonne and the stray come through the common room ahead. I sink inside, hurrying towards Patrick's cell, hands in my pockets and trying not to look too suspicious, but I'm too slow.

Michonne is on to me before I even get to the cell door.

"And this is Carl," she says. "Rick's son. The farmer?"

I don't mean to grimace. The boy seems to think I do, and frowns right back at me. Michonne flares her eyes at me. Obediently, I nod to him.

The boy doesn't say anything.

"This is Oliver," Michonne says, awkwardly. "Ah, Patrick. And this is... uh…"

Michonne frowns. I don't realise why until I look at Patrick standing next to me. He's crying, all of a sudden. His football falls from his hands and rolls away from him.

"Oliver," he sobs.

Then there are footsteps running and before I even turn to face them Patrick is thrown to the ground. I stagger back. Oliver is there, screaming and punching, and Patrick is all twisted up under him, shouting for him to stop.

"Five months!" Oliver screams. "You were dead!"

Then Michonne is yanking him off. He thrashes against her, wild. Patrick is heaving. I help him stand up. He's trembling. He spits blood and hugs his jaw. Doors crash open in the corridor. Glenn and Daryl burst into the block. They must've heard Oliver from outside. They ask what's going on. Oliver's so distraught he doesn't speak, just glares at the ground, wringing his beanie in his hands.

In my head, he is the boy from the woods, come back to haunt me.

I feel sick.

"It's okay!" Patrick splutters. "He's... my brother."

It makes sense the moment he says it — they have the same tall nose, same underbite, same large, brown eyes, and tanned, olive skin. Other than the fact that Oliver is a little younger and his hair is longer and bushier, and he doesn't wear glasses, he and Patrick could be twins.

Patrick never talked about his family.

I never asked — it's not something people bring up.

Oliver isn't struggling anymore so Michonne lets go and he collapses to his knees. He starts whispering but not to any of us, and not in a language I know. Patrick kneels down and holds him, whispering back. They 're crying and the rest of us watch, confused and worried until Daryl motions for us to be on our way, asking Michonne to stay and watch them both for a while.

"Your face," Michonne says to Patrick.

"I'm okay."

"You should go see Doctor S."

"Yes, ma'am. But I'll go in a little while. We just really need some time."

Oliver avoids looking at her. He puts his beanie back on. He's shaking.

Michonne stands in front of him, asking him to look at her. When he does, she says, "We do not tolerate violence here, under any circumstance. Got that? Do not pull something like that again."

Oliver nods. "Y— Yes, ma'am."

Michonne nods back. "Good."

Patrick gives them both an encouraging nod. While they take Oliver to Patrick's cell, Patrick gives me a nod, too. I realise I'm all coiled up — I relax my fists, drop my shoulders, breathe, then roll my eyes as I turn on my heel and walk away.

Glenn catches me on my way outside.

"That was crazy, huh," he tells me. "Sounds like—"

"I don't care."

He looks at me. "What's up with you?"

Him, I think. He just shows up, punches up a kid, and we're letting him stay? Except I don't say any of this. I just shake my head and say, "Nothing."

Outside, while waiting in line at the cafeteria, Dad asks me why I'm not hanging out with Patrick and I tell him, "Because his brother came back."

He turns and looks at me. "Excuse me?"

"His brother." I shrug, collecting squirrel when Carol serves it up. She, too, looks completely taken off guard. I shrug again. "Kid they brought back today. He's Pat's brother."

I regret mentioning it because instead of letting me go and eat Dad and Carol make me explain what happened, and when I'm finished, Dad leaves to go and find him because even though the Council runs this place now he still has to butt his nose in.

"So, what's his story?" Carol asks me. "The boy."

I shrug. "How would I know?"

"You're friends with Patrick. He must've mentioned him."

"He didn't. And I'm only friends with Patrick 'cause Dad made me be friends with him."

Carol twists her mouth to one side. "That's mean."

I feel my face grow hot.

Carol frowns and sighs. "What's wrong with this one then?"

I don't mean to make this a habit — disliking the newcomers, especially the kids. After Woodbury, I've done it with everybody. Molly and Luke were too small. Lizzie and Mika were too childish. And even Patrick still plays with Lego, but I hang out with him, don't I? And I still get told I'm mean.

"Nothing's wrong with him," I say.

Carol watches me. I decide I'm done talking about this. I decide I'm done being asked why I don't like people when I haven't even said that. I decide I'm done feeling bad over just another asshole in a beanie. So I go and eat.

Soon, Dad comes back with Patrick and his brother to come get food, too. While the latter two go to the cafeteria, Dad heads down to the gardens, giving me a pointed nod across the courtyard as he goes — I know this is him telling me to make friends with Oliver, too.

Patrick serves up for himself and Oliver since he works in the kitchen with Carol. He's humming some song, looking happy.

Oliver isn't talking to his brother, but Patrick is talking to him as though he is. They are brothers after all — only family could understand Freak so fluently.

I realise I'm being mean again, so I stuff my face.

"Ciao, guys..."

Patrick stands at the end of the table with his brother. Oliver's stepping on Patrick's foot but Patrick ignores him.

"This is my brother. Oliver. Oliver, this is Michonne, Maggie, Glenn, and Carl."

There are a few nods around the table from the others. I keep my head down and mouth full, but glance up in time to see Patrick grinning.

"Of course, my brother would introduce himself if he wasn't so antisocial," he adds, "and hadn't asked me to do it for him beforehand. Thank you, and you may go on with your meals..."

He sits down next to me. Oliver looks mortified as he sits too, opposite him, next to Michonne. Patrick's still grinning. Glenn snickers. Maggie makes a sympathetic sort of noise. Michonne tuts. I keep eating.

"Doctor S fix your face?" Glenn asks, pointing a fork at the stitch on Patrick's lip.

"Yeah," Patrick says.

Oliver keeps his eyes down and away. Slowly, he begins his meal, eating like he's never seen food before, frowning through mouthfuls like he can't quite believe it. It's sad, watching him. Except I can't tell if that's just me being mean again, so I keep eating, at least using a fork unlike him. I catch him glance at me and I almost choke. The silence is awkward on our end of the table, while Maggie and Glenn talk easily.

Finally, Michonne starts a conversation.

"Look what I found."

She fishes into her jacket and pulls out a packet of M&M's. She leaves it open on the table for us all to share. I complain that they're stale, which, for some reason, makes Patrick and Oliver glance at each other, but they don't speak. Again, watching this is sad, but I'm not being mean this time.

Patrick starts humming a song. At some point, after finishing their meals, Maggie and Glenn leave. Michonne, too, gets up and takes her empty plate to the wash area. I'm finished eating but I don't leave on account of my dad watching me from the gardens.

"You don't have to wait for us," Patrick tells me.

"I do," I admit, glancing pointedly at the fields.

Patrick looks round, then huffs. "Oh, I get it. Your dad told you to hang out with me again."

Oliver looks up and frowns at us.

Patrick, master of not taking things personally, snickers.

"Talk," he says to Oliver, "if you have something to say."

Oliver doesn't, just sighs.

Suddenly, Patrick plucks his beanie from his head and sits on it.

"Talk, and I'll give it back," he demands.

Oliver looks at me desperately, not like he wants my help but like he wishes I wasn't there.

"Come on, dude, just talk," Patrick repeats.

Oliver shuts his eyes.

"Say anything. Say anything and I'll—"

And Oliver erupts.

"Go shove a condom on your head! If you're gonna be such a dick, you might as well dress like one."

Patrick stares at him, astounded. Doesn't even resist when Oliver climbs under the table and yanks his beanie back.

I look at my hands, eyebrows rising.

Patrick busts up laughing.

"Dude," he says, tears in his eyes.

"Quit calling me that," Oliver grumbles.

Patrick giggles. "What would you prefer? Young sir?"

I realise I'm laughing, too, and fight to stop. Oliver is grinning. I watch his eyebrows. They jump up like he's amazed that his brother is sitting right next to him.

"Hey," Patrick says, "know how I found this place after I lost you?"

Oliver shakes his head.

Patrick smiles. "I heard music. That song you like. Err, Heroes? I thought… I don't know, I just thought it was you. But the biters were following the music, too. I almost died, but they came — Maggie and Glenn, and Sasha. They saved me."

Oliver watches him, searching his face.

"They're good people here."

"How'd they set up the music?" Oliver asks.

"Through a boom-box."

"Do they still have it?"

"A boom-box?"

Oliver nods.

Patrick laughs. "Dude, you're such a dork."

"Guess certe cose non cambiano mai."

"No. You changed, alright. Five months ago you would'a been way too tiny to beat me up."

Oliver tries not to find this funny.

As they eat, Patrick sings under his breath…

"I, I can remember
Standing, by the wall
And the guns, shot above our heads
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall
And the shame was on the other side
Oh, we can beat them, for ever and ever
Then we could be Heroes, just for one day…"

Notes

Song was Heroes by David Bowie.

Happy reading.