Summary: The prison is recovering from the flu and the breach, and for a moment, things feel totally at peace.

The next morning, I wake up late, alone in the office. I don't find Oliver on patrol, or doing any laundry or other chores. People are moving out of the offices again, back to their cells, now the flu is clearing up. Because of this I figure Oliver is visiting his brother's grave, or moving back into his cell.

The cafeteria isn't open today, with everyone still living off preserves. Nobody is on fence duty either. Nobody is even on watch. I don't see Oliver in the graveyard, but Flame is still here in her paddock which means Michonne is somewhere around.

I head back to the office blocks to pack the last of mine and Oliver's things, including Oliver's beanie and inhaler that he left. I take them and stuff them in my pocket.

On the way to C block, I try not to pay too much attention to the fence that broke last night —it's been boarded up— as I pass by, my duffel on my shoulder and my hat on my head.

Oliver's not in my cell when I arrive, nor is he in D block. I get a hunch, so I go back to the office blocks, deep into the corridors, and eventually I find Oliver is sitting on the step by the door leading to the parking lot.

He's reading his book, but turns to me when he hears me. He smiles, then continues to read as I sit behind him in the doorway. I look out across the parking lot, to the trees. This side of the building is in shadow at the moment, but the air is still hot and wiggling above the tarmac.

"Feels like the prison's on pause or somethin'," I say. "It's... different."

Oliver hums his agreement. I watch the clouds swim across the sky, all calm and quiet and lonely, and I think of Oliver — all calm and quiet and lonely, too, with big brown eyes.

"Thank you," I tell him.

Oliver knows what for, even if doesn't say so. He just leans back and pushes his shoulder blades into my knees, rolling his shoulders into them like last night.

"I saw how that kickback took you off your feet," I say, smirking.

Oliver rolls his eyes and shows me the band-aids stuck to the grazes on his elbows.

"Sore?" I ask.

He nods and groans.

"You get used to it," I tell him.

Oliver seems not to appreciate that thought. He closes his book and watches the sky with me, something on his face telling me that he's seeing things in it that I can't. Sometimes I think Oliver's the type of boy who sees four dimensions, not just three like me. I've never asked, but I think he sees universes. I even tried to draw that once, the universe in his eyes, but it didn't work — I couldn't get his underbite right.

He's frowning.

"What is it?" I ask.

Oliver hesitates, then shuffles around to face me, sitting there all folded on the step with his knees on my shins and his big brown eyes looking up at me.

He says, "I just don't think we can stay in one place for too long. Something always happens. Sometimes it's easier to run."

I inhale.

"Pat and I," he says, "when things would go bad, we ran, always. Left all our ghosts. But Patrick's gone now. He's dead. And now..."

"Don't leave," I say, and I'm watching his face as I say it and I can't tell what he's thinking. I say it again, "Don't leave me…"

And then Oliver says, "I wouldn't."

He says to me, "Carl..."

He says, "You're everything to me, man."

And I'm whirring around inside my head and Oliver thinks it's funny because he grins. I do, too. And this is why I decide to touch our grins. I've never wanted to kiss someone so badly as I've wanted to kiss him, so I do kiss him, and when I stop kissing him the whole universe explodes in my face.

"I really wanted to do that," I whisper breathlessly, "and… I wanted it to count. I wanted it to matter."

And Oliver says, "Good."

And I swallow and say, "Yeah?"

And Oliver says, "You should do it again."

And I say, "I should?"

And he says, "Yes, man. Kiss me."

So I do. I kiss him again. And I keep kissing him. Kissing like they kiss in movies and pictures and music and books — well, none I've ever come across, but I kiss him like that anyway, and he kisses me back so gently and sweetly and there's no turning back now because this matters.

This is everything…

Oliver pulls away some million years later.

"Did you bring my inhaler?" he asks, taking a deep, strained breath.

"Do you really need it?"

"Yes!" he laughs.

I retrieve them for him, already missing how it feels to have my hands all tangled in his hair. I watch him take two puffs, feeling strangely proud of myself. I don't know why. I guess this is what it feels like when people have their first kiss that matters.

He leaves the inhaler on the floor beside him. I pick it up, fiddling with it.

"Know something?" I say. "I didn't know your surname — not until I read it on Patrick's grave."

Oliver shrugs.

"De Luca," I say.

"It's sorta pronounced more like day-loo-kah," he explains, the Italian parts of his accent out in full force as he says it, "with a 'kah' sound."

I say it again, properly, then say, "I always liked it when you talk Italian."

Oliver smirks shyly. His cheeks go red. "Want me to say something?"

I nod, a little too eagerly, because he laughs. He tips his head back, thinking of a sentence. When he says it, it's floaty, like a song, and I decide in one moment that I'm going to live in Italy when I grow up, even if that's impossible.

"What does it mean?"

Oliver raises his eyebrows and flicks his nose.

I grab his hands. "What's it mean, man?"

So he translates.

"The dishes won't wash themselves."

We bust up laughing. I get this feeling like he'll kiss me again, but out of nowhere I picture my dad's face if he knew, or Mom's, and I stand up. Oliver stands up, too. He is the quietest person I know, but I hear him clear as day.

"It's going to be okay."

I look at the fences through the door. Some walkers are trying to get through, having spotted us. Oliver takes my hand. I let him, and we shut the door and lock it behind us.

We drop our stuff off at C block, then go see what we can do to help out now some folks are awake — the prison finally off-pause again.

Michonne and Hershel are in the parking lot, loading walker bodies into the truck. Oliver volunteers to help them. I don't, because I know Dad would never allow it. Instead, I wave and leave Oliver to work with Hershel and Michonne.

I think of all the things I haven't been able to do since moving into the offices, and out of all of them, I want to go to the gardens the most. I bet there'll be loads to pick after missing yesterday's harvest.

I find my dad there.

"Hey!" I call out. "You didn't wake me up."

Dad squints at me. "Thought I'd let you sleep in. Guess it didn't work."

"I should help."

"Good," he says, and looks over at Oliver for some reason. "What's he up to now?"

"Helping Michonne and Hershel. Why?"

"I've gotta go talk to him. Daryl, too."

"Right now?" I ask.

Dad looks at me, sighs. "No. Soon." He slaps my shoulder with his gardening gloves, grinning when I laugh. "Soon."

In the gardens, we pick all we can together, filling crates and crates with peapods, beets, broccoli, sprouts, turnips, shallots, cabbage, carrots, clementines, and even a few juicy grapefruit, radishes, artichokes, and kale.

Afterwards, we get started on mucking out Flame's stable together. I give the horse some hay and refill her water.

Michonne, Oliver, and Hershel leave to burn the bodies at some point but I don't catch them on their way out. As I glance up to the empty parking lot, I realise I forgot to return Oliver's hat and inhaler, feeling them both still in my pockets.

Dad holds out a peapod to me. I take it, pick out a pea, and taste. It's sweet and fresh and soft on my tongue. Dad has the rest, just smiling at me, like things are okay again, not just since the flu began to spread but from before that, too.

Finally, we head back up to the courtyard. Dad tells me I can go see Judith now. I run to find her, all but snatching her from Beth when I see them in the office foyer. Judith's forehead is soft and smells sweet.

"She missed you," Beth says.

"Thanks — you know, for looking after her."

Beth just smiles.

"How's your dad, after everything?" she asks.

"He's gonna be alright," I answer. "How's Glenn?"

"Maggie with him. He's going to be okay, too. Everything's gonna be alri—"

Then, out of nowhere, there is a loud bang and the ground shakes. The walls moan. The ceiling above us rains paint and cement down on us. Someone screams. Someone else is yelling. Judith starts to cry and I hold her close and tight.

"What was that?!"

"I don't know," Beth murmurs. "Here, put her in here."

I place Judith in a baby carrier.

"Children," Kimberly calls, with Molly, Luke, Lizzie, Mika, and a few others following her. "Hurry! To the bus!"

"What's happening?" I ask her.

"I don't know," she says quickly, pulling Judith's carrier from my arms, "I was just told to get the children to the bus."

Alarms ring in my mind. The bus is only for emergency evacuations, for incoming herds too big to take down or an attack…

Before I can say anything, Beth has grabbed my hand and we are running through the building. Outside, I see the guard tower, or lack thereof. The top has been blown off, the remainder of it on fire, black smoke rising up into the sky.

Maggie, calls us over in hushed voices. Bob and Sasha are here, too. We all rush across the courtyard. Opposite us, Dad is leaving C block, his gun is drawn.

"Get back!" he yells at us.

Daryl and Tyreese are with him. We all meet at the gate overlooking the gardens and the driveway. My chest empties when I see what's parked outside the fence.

A tank.

Surround it, trucks, and strangers, crowding around with guns.

And standing on the hilt of the tank?

The Governor himself.

"Rick!" he yells, his voice carrying in echoes across the fields. "Come down here. We need to talk."

Dad is out of breath, even though he's standing still. I hear gravel crack under his boots when he shifts his weight.

"There's a Council now!" he calls out. "They run this place!"

"Hershel on the Council?" the Governor calls out.

My stomach lurches to my throat as I watch a guy in a camouflage uniform bring Hershel out from one of the trucks. Without his wooden leg, he hops unsteadily to stand in front of the tank. Maggie clasps a hand over her mouth. Beth calls out to him, sobbing. The crowd of strangers outside the fences watch us and the Governor — some of them look nervous.

"What about Michonne?" the Governor asks. "She on the Council, too?"

Another soldier grabs her from another truck and pulls her to stand next to Hershel.

"Surely, this Council of yours, wouldn't be so irresponsible as to put a child at risk?"

A third soldier pulls Oliver out of a truck. He's bleeding. I grip the wire mesh, my heart in my throat, helpless.

"I don't make decisions anymore!" Dad shouts.

Oliver, Michonne, and Hershel are forced to kneel before the tank.

"You're making the decisions today, Rick!" the Governor explains. "Come down here, let's... let's have that talk."

Notes

Thanks infinitely for reading.

As always,
Happy reading.