I open my eyes one morning. I'm lying in the bed I share with Carl, only Carl isn't there. The room doesn't look like it should. Everything has a white glow to it, the walls are white, the sheets the cover me are white, the light streaming in through the window is white. Everything is white.

Then three figures emerge from the whiteness, they are all clad in white as well, but I recognize them. Tears form in my eyes and I launch myself from the bed, heart racing with excitement, but then fear over takes it at the possible meaning of this all.

"Mom, Dad, Noah," the words slip from my mouth. But they're all dead, does that mean... then my thoughts slip out too, "Am I..."

My mom speaks up, her face has an angelic glow and she looks much happier than in the final days I saw her. She looks at peace again, she looks like the woman I used to come home to everyday from school, "No sweetheart, you're not dead."

"Not yet," there's an uncomfortable bitterness to my tone.

My father's expression then becomes much more pained, "No, not yet." like he knows what's coming.

"I miss you, all of you," my heart aches with a yearning to be near them. To be with them.

"We miss you too," my parents promise.

"We'll all be together soon, then we can be happy in heaven forever." my words sound so foolish and innocent. Is this what I really want? To be dead?

"We don't want you here." they all say at once, their tones changing instantly. It's flat, heavy and somehow knocks the air from my lungs.

My lower lip trembles and I stretch out towards them, "Daddy."

He swallows reluctantly and steps back, "You need to stay there. Where you belong."

Tears begin to swell in my eyes for a different reason, "Isn't it nice in heaven?"

Noah nods almost painfully, "It's real nice here, but you have a new family. You should be with them. Won't you miss Carl?"

They know about Carl.

"Dad, there's something I should tell you," I start off

He shakes his head, "You don't have to say anything. He's a good boy. Stay with him while you can. We'll always be here for you."

"Don't give up sweetheart," my mother has tears in her eyes, "once you're gone, you're gone. You can't come back."

My whole body trembles, tears in my eyes. I stretch out for them one more time.

Then everything begins to fade and their image gets foggy, I lose my sense of orientation and I manage to call out, "I love you!" before I wake up.

I feel the weight of Carl's arm around my side his warm breath on my neck, and I relax substantially. It was just a dream. That's all it was, a dream.

I turn onto my back and stare at the ceiling, it's probably an hour or so before dawn, so I'll let Carl sleep. I doubt I'll be able to fall back asleep. The dream was strangely powerful for me, not in a good way either. It shook me hard, threw me for a loop. All I can think about is how I said Iwanted to be dead. I wanted to.

But that... it's just not true. I'm at- or I was at- a point where the real life was better than the dreams. And I want that again. I don't want death. I'm not suicidal. I want to live! I want-

"Sam?" the groggy mumble of Carl stirs me from my trance and I realize I'm sitting up, and I then I realize I was talking out loud. That's been happening more and more lately, my filter of what I say out loud versus what goes on in my head has been deteriorating.

I hang my head, "How much did you hear?"

He sits up and runs his hand over my back, "Not too much, just you going on about not being suicidal." his tone gets more focused and his brow creases, trying to put together everything, "And then you started shouting. Hell, when I first heard you I thought you were talking in your sleep. Is there something you need to tell me?" I can feel the worry in his look.

"Just a nightmare," I reassure him.

His fingers slip around my waist, his grip tightening and he pulls me a little closer, "Do you wanna talk about it or-"

"My family, I... I saw them." I frown and my brow creases as I try to figure it out for myself, "They were in heaven and they... they didn't want me." I shake my head and I stare at nothing.

My head rests against Carl's shoulder as he tries to comfort me, "It's ok. It was just a nightmare, like you said." I nod, and Carl's hand runs through my hair. There's a time of silence, and then he speaks up again, "Are you sure? About today?"

I've been taking it easy for the past few weeks since my return from the infirmary. Morning dishes, watch the kids, do laundry, light farm work, are the medial tasks given to me. But I've finally convinced them to let me go on a run again, that one's got to be my favorite.

"Yes. I'll be fine. I want to do this. I'll be with you the whole time, it'll be ok." I urge him, I'm not going to back down now.

He nods, understanding my desire. He couldn't wait to get back out on the run circuit after his eye got better.

"We better get to it then," Carl lets go, "We're wasting daylight."

I snort, "That's a funny thing to say when it's not even dawn yet." I stand up and go to our dresser, I grab a shirt and pants for Carl and toss them to him. He stands up and mutters something, "What am I going to do without you." it sounds like he could be joking, but there's pain there as well.

Truth be told I've been thinking about it, what's gonna happen to him when I'm gone. I slip a green racer-back tank top over my head and walk over towards him, "You'll find someone better, someone who won't crap out on you and die after a few years." I initially make it a bitter sweet joke, but the look in his eye is too much, and I get serious. "I'm telling you now, that's what I want. I want you to be happy and find love again. I know you will."

My hands, which had previously been gingerly places on either of his arms now wrap around him in a hug. He hugs me back, but loosely. "Ok." he halfheartedly mumbles. I let go and he doesn't. He holds on for a moment longer, his grip tightening, but then he releases and doesn't look at me. I frown, but decide to let it slide.

I put on a pair of cargo cut-offs that touch the middle of my thighs, I lace up my Docs, and then I go to the bathroom. I braid back my hair, and put down pills trying to prevent the onrush of a terrible headache with the repercussions of paralyzing nausea. I decide even though the heat will be tremendous, given the time of year, today will be a beanie day so I slip on my old beanie as well.

I give one last look into the mirror, and I could almost be mistaken for the Sam that first arrived at the prison, the good old days if you will, but there's more wear in my eyes, and I don't look as young any more. Too much has happened, you can never go back to the good old days.

I tear away and when I walk out of the bathroom, Carl is ready. It's our day to take care of Judith, so we head over to her room, and just the cracking open of the door wakes her up.

She bolts upright and jumps off her bed and runs over to us, hugging Carl's legs then mine. I pick her up, "How are you this morning kiddo?" I smile at her and she hugs my neck, as much as I plead that I enjoy taking care of Judith, I can't help but notice, they're slowly edging her away from me. It's subtle, but I do see it, and it breaks my heart when she does stuff like this.

"I'm very good. I'm glad to see you!" she beams happily at me.

Carl comes up behind her and starts to tickle her, "What about me?" he teases, his tone so joyous and light, "Aren't you glad to see me?"

She squirms and giggles, kicking her little legs, making her a little hard to hold. Carl takes her, and he blows air right against her stomach, a raspberry my dad used to call it. Judith shrieks and giggles some more.

"Yes! Yes!" she squeals, that wonderful smile ever-present, "I'm glad to see Cawl!"

He kisses her forehead and smiles at the younger child, "That's what I thought." he sets her down, "Now come on, let's get you dressed, it's time for breakfast." they walk together over to her dresser and he grabs a baby pink sleeveless dress with lavender stripes. She grabs the dress from his hand, and dresses herself. Well, with some help from me. Carl helps her get her shoes on while I put her hair into pigtails, then Carl takes her to go brush her teeth.

Already, the medicine isn't enough. My stomach churns, and I have to blink extra hard to keep my vision working the way it should. Though I've hardly done a thing, my breathing is heavy and labored, I lean against the door frame to the hallway for support.

When Carl emerges with Judith, I stand back up and we all head to breakfast.

By this time the sun is over the horizon and the air smells clean, like it might've rained last night. The damp ground beneath my Docs is enough to confirm my suspicions. Judith asks if we can swing her, and though I say sure, Carl takes one look at me and knows I'm not up to it, so he offers her a piggyback ride instead. Judith likes this idea, and soon she's sitting on Carl's shoulders playing with his hat while he holds her feet.

I take Judith to sit down at our table while Carl gets our breakfast, "You won't let Cawl get hurt again will you?" she asks out of almost nowhere.

I bite my tongue, her words make my heart hurt, "No sweetie, that was a bad accident. I promise I'll bring him back safe and sound. Maybe even back soon enough to play dolls with you before dinner." I smile at her. We're first at the table this morning, Carl brings our food, then his dad shows up. Then Beth and Daryl, and Rick says Michonne was on a patrol late last night and won't be at breakfast this morning. Beth's really getting big now, they've already taken her off of the most laborious tasks, it won't be long until she's not working at all.

I'm suddenly hit with a strong wave of fatigue, and my eyelids droop. I force them open and nudge Carl, indicating we should probably get going, Beth offered to take Judith to daycare this morning anyways.

As we walk to the armory, I press my nails into my palm, trying to wake myself up.

"How are you feeling?" Carl asks, the question is innocent enough, he asks the question multiple times every day, but it's like he can tell I'm already exhausted even though it's barely past sunrise.

I nod, "Fine." my nails dig deeper, still pushing to keep my eyes from shutting. I focus on the ground in front of me, the asphalt road is littered with cracks and nature trying to take back what once belonged to it. Bright green blades of grass contrast against the blackness of pavement.

Why is green... green? Who decided that green was supposed to look like that? Why didn't we call it blue, or orange? What determined-

There I go again, creating pointless tangents, I really need to get better at focusing. It used to be so easy.

As I chastise myself, I feel a warmth cover my hand. I briefly glance at the hand, and realize that Carl just grabbed it. So I uncoil my fingers and lace them with his.

"Bookworm, I need to know now if you can't make this run. I don't want you to endanger yourself." Carl pushes.

Why do I have to be so obvious about everything?

"Carl," I sigh, no point in beating around the bush, "you and I both know nothing is going to stop me from going on this las- this run." I correct myself, I swallow and gnaw on the inside of my lip nervously, "So just save your breath and stop asking."

God, I sound like such a jerk! This cancer thing is doing me no favors.

But hey, if I get him to leave me before I'm gone, then it won't hurt as much for him right?

So I should definitely be an asshole more often. Him deciding to leave would be good.

"No!" I shout out loud.

How am I supposed to talk my way out of this one?

Then something strange happens.

Carl says nothing.

Nothing. Zip. Nada.

He just continues like nothing happened. As though he never heard it. Although he must have, right?

Or was that in my head too?

I'm not sure whether to be relieved or worried.

We reach the armory and Sasha is there with Heath. Scott's nowhere to be found, but then I remember how he broke his leg on a run a couple months ago, and hasn't been back since. I hope he recovers soon.

Instead, David and Betsy are with us today. I like them, they know what they're doing and they get stuff done. We load up on our weapons and then pile into the van like we always do. The familiarity of it all gives me a buzz of adrenaline and I'm no longer sleepy.

Today we're raiding the last quadrant of an apartment complex that the run crew has been working on for about a week or so now.

We're working in pairs, going one apartment at a time.

Carl and I take the hike up to the third floor, because that's where we've been assigned. I'm not going to lie, that many stairs was exhausting, I was huffing and puffing by the time we made it to the top. Carl stops, and runs his hand over my back, while my hands are on my knees and I'm bent over, trying to catch my breath. He lets me take my time, though I try to recover as quickly as my body can manage. Even when I do stand, around a minute later, I'm not completely better. I pull out my gun, and Carl stands in front of me as he kicks open the door, he runs in and looks around, making sure the initial coast is clear, then I fall in after him.

"Clear first, clean second." he repeats the instructions given by Sasha, I nod and I go into the room closest on the left, while he goes into what appears to be a kitchen. I push open the door, I step in, back pressed against the door. I scan the room with the muzzle of the gun and my eyes. My finger hovers over the trigger and the safety is flicked off. I appear to have entered a bedroom. Clothes are strewn around the floor and papers pile up on a desk, never to be moved. I look around for any other doors and go to the nearest one, it's a closet. As messy as its room. I turn and go to the second door.

It's too quiet, we haven't seen a single walker. I've convinced myself there will be at least one behind this door.

I open it as quickly as possible and am instantly overwhelmed. Walkers pour out of the room and I let out a scream. I start backing up, trying to keep my distance. There are so many, and yet how could I have not heard them before? I fire my gun like I've done a thousand times, and it doesn't meet its target. I fire again, nothing. What the hell?

My heart begins to race as I start panicking. BOOM! I fire off a third round. It hits the wall, the walkers are drawn to my noise.

I should call for help. I open my mouth, but the name can't form in my mouth, it's as though it's on the tip of my tongue. I try to form the person's image in my mind, but I can't picture that either.

Now I'm seriously afraid. I fire off a fourth shot and a fifth, but they are useless. Why can't I aim?

My heart surges in my throat, and I trip, falling onto my back. I fire a 6th round, then another, and another. I aim and aim, but they're coming faster and faster, but I haven't hit a single one.

Then comes the noise that makes my stomach drop, the dreading clicking of an empty magazine. I fumble for my pockets, but they're empty. I pull out my knife, but I can't get to my feet. I'm reduced to kicking away walkers. Then one grabs my shoe, I wiggle backwards and try to squirm away from the others. The walker falls, but it's still got a grip on my shoe. I yank and kick with the other foot, when another walker falls on top of me. I'm surprised that it doesn't knock the weight from my lungs, given its size. I stretch, trying to sit up when I see it, its teeth sink into my leg.

I scream. I scream in horror. I scream in fear. I scream in hope that someone, somewhere will hear me. I scream with the realization that maybe it won't be cancer that kills me. I scream because I am disgusted at the slight hope that forms in my chest.

A new scream jolts me from this sickening reality, a different one. I turn my head.

That's him! That's who I was trying to imagine! The name still resists forming in my mouth.

"Sam!" he calls again, and there's a strange expression on his face that I hadn't noticed before. He looks afraid.

When I look back at myself the walkers are gone. I am not bitten.

And I feel afraid.

His eyes are wide with fear and his mouth stands open for a moment, then he collects himself. He swallows and finally he speaks, "Sam. What was that?" He goes to his knees and kneels beside me.

I stare blankly ahead, unable to form any kind of emotion, or reaction in general.

"I don't know," my mouth is dry and my voice cracks as I continue to stare ahead, "I thought... I saw walkers."

Fear courses through me like blood, pumping to my brain and my limbs and finally I manage to look at him,Carl. His name is Carl.

I couldn't remember his name. I couldn't picture his face in my mind. What- what is wrong with me?!

I lose it, I start bawling, tears stream down my cheeks, I'm near hysterical. And I can't control it.

No. Stop.

Stop! Now!

Sam! He can't see you cry!

No!

Stop it, goddammit!

But I can't, My head rests in my hands as I cry.

"Hey," Carl's voice comes out real gentle and cautious.

"I can't come back Carl. I'm... It's real. I-" I can't even form a coherent sentence.

His arms go to my shoulders, "Hey," he says again, almost with the tone he uses on Judy.

"This is my last run. I can't do this anymore." the words come out so quietly they're almost unintelligible. I've known them to be true all along, but I could never come to terms with the reality.

Carl nods, "I know, I know." He's so brave and strong. He knows what he has to do.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks and let out a sniffle.

I'm so damn pathetic.

"I'm sorry." I shake my head, "I shouldn't have come, I shouldn't have-" words stop forming and I just stare again.

"Sam?" From my peripherals I catch his frown. Carl's frown. His name is Carl.

Abrupt anger overcomes me, "I hate everything!" the tears stop flowing, and I ball my hands into clenching fists and I just want to hit something.

I'm up on my feet in a second and I start to pace madly, "How can I just forget something like that!" I scream at him. He stands too, he's been taken aback harshly.

Carl grabs my shoulders, "Sam, look at me."

Rage boils my blood and I turn roughly, breaking from Carl's grip, I march to the nearest wall and I punch it as hard as I can.Son of a bitch. Pain radiates in my right hand, and I shake my hand as though that'll make things better. But it doesn't. Punching felt good. I'll just do that again.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Carl gets in between the wall and I, just as I pull back my fist to go in for a second punch, "Hitting stuff is not the answer," he says firmly, making insistent eye contact.

I glare at him, but I lower my closed fist, my nails still dig harshly into my palms. Carl notices this and he grabs my wrist. He squeezes and I release the tension in my hand, now it hangs limply in Carl's grasp.

His bright blue eyes hold mine less brilliant ones again, making it so that I can't look away, "Sam. I can't understand what's going on in your mind, so I won't pretend to. But right now, you need to listen to me. Are you listening?" I nod and he continues, "We're going to go back into that living room and we're going to sit. Ok? You and me. We'll sit as long as it takes for you to calm down, we'll do whatever it takes. And then we're going to go home and you're going to lay down and you're going to rest. Maybe stay home for a few days, no working, you won't even have to help with Judith. And then we're going to talk with Dr. Cloyd and see what she thinks. Do you understand what I'm saying?" he tilts his head at me. His blue eyes are fiery with determination, but I see the fear and worry. It's there too. But he's stronger than I am, so he can put that behind him.

I nod again.

His lips purse, "Say something, please."

"I understand," I let out a sigh, and already my breathing is becoming less huffy.

"Good," he manages a false smile and he leads me back into the living room. We sit on the couch like he said we would. And we sit for a long time.

My sanity is slipping. My grip on choice and emotion is fading.Am I fading?

I sit cross-legged on the couch facing Carl, he sits similarly and he just holds my hands. Looking at me, watching me.

"We're gonna make it through this, Sam," he says, filling the previously long standing silence.

Well you are. I'm just gonna be dead.But I say nothing, nothing I that I could possibly think of right now would be considered 'constructive'

After another eternity of silence he speaks again, "Would talking help? About something completely... different."

I nod, humoring the possibility, and I think about the most different thing I can. "I miss Christmas." I laugh, "It's the dumbest thing, of all things I could miss, a stupid commercialized holiday. Nearly completely stripped of its original intent. From celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, to 'who can have the flashiest Christmas lights and yard display'. You always thought, 'This will be the year! This will be the greatest Christmas yet! With this fabulous array of colorful lights and blow up reindeer and snowmen I shall outdo all the neighbors!' But that was never the case, most of the time there were just a bunch of broken light bulbs and the smell of molten plastic in the morning after some freak accident. Sometimes the occasional, minor explosion. Nothing gigantic or anything, just something that made you go 'what the hell was that?' when the neighbor's inflatable Santa blew up. Or the kids across the street were lighting fireworks when they damn well knew they weren't supposed to. Man, those were the days." I study the fabric of the couch, chuckling slightly. Finding those memories and bringing them out felt good, I could feel myself coming back. Carl was right, this is helping.

Carl smirks, "I miss Tuesday nights." when I tilt my head as though to say 'what's so special about Tuesday nights?' he elaborates, "Dad always took off Tuesday nights, and Mom would make tacos, or we'd buy them, depending on her mood. And Dad and I, we'd always watch a movie. I remember one movie Dad showed me, that if Mom knew I had watched it, she'd have gone nuts. But she was out with some friends or something one Tuesday." he pauses for a moment, thinking, "Now that I think about it, it wasn't too long before he was shot. Anyway, my dad decided that I should watch a 'big kid movie'- or something to that effect. So we watched Braveheart. Now, I don't remember too much, but I do remember this guy in a skirt, wielding nunchucks. Crazy, right?" I chuckle, nodding, "And after we finished the movie he said very seriously, 'Now don't go talking about this to your mother, this is our secret.' I miss those days." he shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh, he stares off, reminiscing.

My mind is beginning to clear some again, as though maybe the whole thing was just a spell, something that comes and goes, but I'll be able to deal with it, "God, I wish we still had tacos, but now we'd be lucky to get some moldy bologna, or stale fortune cookies, or if we're extra lucky, a Slim Jim. Man, I'd kill for a Slim Jim." I decide to stand up and go into the kitchen, because why not.

My legs are a bit stiff from sitting for so long, but they quickly adjust and I walk about 10 feet. There's a bar that keeps the living room and kitchen connected, and then the kitchen itself. I find the design of the kitchen to be a bit... eccentric. The previous owners must have been marine biologists, or maybe just ocean freaks. Because there's blue tile between the counter tops and the cabinets and then above the cabinets is this wall paper border, with turtles, fish, mermaids, dolphins, coral, basically if it looked like it belonged in The Little Mermaid, it was there. The refrigerator was adorned with several pictures, but ten fold that many sea creature magnets. Jeez, the previous tenant was a weirdo. I look around on the counters, I see the plastic bag that Carl's been filling up with what supplies we were to collect. Scattered on an island in the middle of the kitchen are letters, a cell phone, bills, wedding invitations, birth announcements, and a calendar.

My eyes go back to Carl's bag and only then does it dawn on me that I haven't done a goddamn thing in terms of being helpful to this run. So I turn back to the living room and find that Carl's standing, halfway to the kitchen, probably watching to see what I was doing. I turn away from him and for some reason my attention goes to the television standing in the corner. I can see several video game consoles, and my mind gets curious. Why? I don't know. It's probably off on another dumb tangent. I see a Wii, a Xbox, a GameCube, and an Atari? I kneel by the ancient console, jeez it's been forever since I've seen one of these. There's an obnoxiously large pile of video games that makes me think of the house Carl and I stayed in that was in the neighborhood of the pudding house. That was a couple years ago, it seems like a different lifetime. So much has changed.

Carl walks up behind me, the power of video games controlling him. He starts to go through the pile and he stops on one. It's for the Atari, "Wolfenstein 3D." he speaks in a tone that's been triggered by an old memory.

"Did you ever play that?" I ask

He nods, "Yeah, but it was on this old computer my dad had, I played it a long time ago. It was pretty weird. Like you fought Nazis and... oh yeah! There was this one boss level, it was insane and strange- yeah, now that I think about it, it was really strange. It was Hitler, right? But... like a robot, mechanical Hitler, with just his head connected to this huge body suit." he frowns, trying to remember, "I'm not making any sense am I?"

I laugh, shaking my head, "Not at all. Are you sure you aren't making this stuff up? That's literally the dumbest thing I've ever heard. That sounds like something you dreamed up after reading too many crazy comic books."

"Well, that's what I remember at least. I swear that was what happened though!" he vouches, he frowns after a moment, "Come on. We really should be getting back to the van. I don't want to worry Sasha." He stands up and pulls me up too. I feel like apologizing for being so useless on this run, but I have a feeling that it wouldn't do any good. So I wait by the door while Carl grabs his bag and then we head back to the van.

When we get there, everyone else is waiting for us.

Sasha first appears relieved to see us, but quickly her brow furrows, "Where have you two been?" Her arms are crossed and she glares at us.

I look to Carl, because I don't know what to say, luckily he's quick on his feet, "We just wanted to check out a couple more of the apartments, we had pretty slim pickings though." He lifts his meager plastic bag, which is a little more than halfway full.

Sasha looks to me, "I put what I found in there." I point to Carl's bag. She looks between the two of us, I know she's not convinced, but at this moment I don't care. My head is pounding, and the grip I thought I had recollected is slipping again. My legs feel weak and once Sasha turns around, I lean against Carl.

"Are you ok?" He whispers, arm going around my waist.

My eyes squint shut and I shake my head just slightly before opening my eyes and stepping forward.

We get into the van and leave the complex. It's a rough ride home that doesn't end well. We seem to hit every bump, pothole, and crack in the road. Maybe even the occasional corpse. I sway and jump with the van and the whole situation makes my face get paler and paler until I'm aggressively smacking Carl to give me the plastic bag because I'm choking back puke. Once he catches my cue he empties the plastic bag, scattering the contents across the floor of the back of the van.

He hands me the bag, and I barely make it into the bag. The van jumps again as I'm on my second heave and I get puke in my messy hair. Once my sides ache and I've emptied the contents of my stomach, my body slackens and I rest against the back of the seat and let out a groan.

I stare at the seat in front of me blankly and all thought slips from my mind. Carl takes the bag of vomit from my hand and I assume he ties it up. Then I feel the weight of his arm go around my body. He pulls me against his shoulder, and I think he says something, because I hear noise, but not the words.

Time slips by at an unmeasurable interval. Next thing I know, the movement ceases and Carl is shaking my shoulder.

I flinch upon being stirred from my trance, but then I blink and look at Carl, and I've regained some level of focus. I stumble a little as I get out of the van, and the sun blinds me momentarily as I step onto the ground. I use the side of the van to keep me propped up and Carl gets after another while. I guess he had to pick up the supplies he dropped.

My mouth tastes foul and it dawns on me that I haven't even wiped my mouth. I do that now and then turn to Carl.

"Can you walk?" he looks me up and down, I'm quickly dreading that he'll make his own decision, "I can carry you." he offers, lifting his dark eyebrows.

I shake my head, "I don't want to make a scene, let's just get-" I pause for a moment, my train of thought lost, "home." I finish.

Reluctantly Carl settles for taking my hand and half-guiding me back to the duplex. It's probably a little before the time we usually pick up Judith, so no one should be home yet. When we get inside and Carl shuts the door, I lean against him almost entirely and I feel as though I'm on the verge of passing out.

"Can't make a scene if there's no one to see you," Carl quickly comments before picking me up, one hand behind my back and the other underneath my knees. I'm too gone to fight it, so I rest my head against his shoulder and wait until we reach our bedroom. He sets me down on the bed and I don't want to get up, but I know I have to at least shower. So when he steps back, I stand up.

"I'm just gonna clean up." I reassure him, "Go do whatever you need to."

He shakes his head, "I'm waiting until you're in this bed resting. No changing my mind there, bookworm."

So I roll my eyes and go into the bathroom. I shower as quickly as my half asleep limbs will let me, then I put back on the same clothes. I reemerge from the bathroom and Carl makes sure I have everything I need, before tucking me into bed.

"I'll make sure to bring you some dinner," he promises, kissing my forehead, "Please get some rest."

The comfort of the bed beneath my back, is enough to lull me further towards sleep, "You don't have to tell me twice." I mumble, my eyes closing.

"I love you bookworm." Carl says with more definition than he normally does.

"I," I let out a yawn, forcing my eyes to open for a second, "love you too sher-" and I'm asleep.

Just a quick little A/N:

First of all, I am so, so sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I've had some real life issues- emergency room, it wasn't fun- but I won't go into that. This is just me apologizing for the ridiculous wait. And I hope you thought this was worth the wait! As always, please review and if you're reading this, thanks for sticking with me.

Now onto the real note:

So as most, if not all, of you know Season 5 of The Walking Dead premiered and is back. So that means I can continue Sam now! But the real question is, do I finish the spinoff and then go back to Sam? Or should I put this story on hold and continue it during the midseason break?This is where I want the input of y'all, either leave your opinion the reviews or go to my profile, I'll have a poll up there. Please vote if you want your opinion to be heard. Thanks again!