Broken down.

Just our luck.

Our return trip has, so far, been entirely unsuccessful. Despite making it out of the city, we didn't make it much further before the SUV we're driving grinds to a screeching halt, releasing a tremendous amount of steam and smoke from under the hood once we finally come to a stop. I believe its safe to say that this vehicle has finally reached the end of its lifespan. Nevertheless, that won't stop Glenn from trying to figure out what went wrong, and so that is what he does. He currently is investing all of his energy into investigating the source of the breakdown, while the rest of us take up watch, for both Saviors and walkers, around the vehicle. There seem to be quite a few walkers lurking outside the city limits. Michonne and I take turns at them, swatting them away with our blades. The increase in activity has me on edge. Does that mean the herd is finally breaking apart and begin to fan out? That won't be good news if its true, because it means the Saviors are free of their sanctuary again.

"We can't stay here much longer." Michonne declares. "Look."

With the tip of her katana, the ebony-skinned warrior gestures in the direction of the nearby treeline, where three more walkers have emerged and begun to lumber towards us hungrily.

"I got one of 'em." Daryl notes as we again step forward.

With great precision, the redneck launches a bolt from his crossbow, catching the lead walker in the skull and dropping it like a fly. From there, Michonne and I split up, with her taking the leftmost walker, while I take the right. The reanimated cadavers hardly put up a noteworthy struggle and before I know it, we're on watch again. Daryl takes time to retrieve his bolt from the dead walker's skull before returning to us, however. About that time, Glenn slams the hood of the vehicle rather angrily. He doesn't need to say anything. We all know what that means. It looks like we'll be walking back home. We take our time to gather our gear and supplies from the SUV before taking off on foot. Given the distance we traveled by car from Alexandria to Washington D.C., it will probably take us a couple of hours to get back home. For some reason, however, this doesn't truly bother me. Its been years since I practically lived out on the road, but traveling like this is still second nature to me regardless.

From where our vehicle broke down it is only a short walk to a large bridge, still standing strong despite years without maintenance, suspended over the rushing waters of the Potomac River. The roads here are similar to everywhere else. Dead leaves cover the streets, crunching beneath our feet as we pass over them. The rest are stirred by a sudden gust of chilled winds, picking them off of the ground where they spiral in the air above us before being swept away by the currents of the air. As we begin the process of crossing the bridge, the sound of running water beneath us drowns out the sound of the wind rustling the leaves. Somewhere along this journey, my head becomes completely lost within my own thoughts, as usual. Thoughts consumed with my earlier conversation with Ezekiel, as well as the coming conflict with Negan. At times, the weight of what's to come is too much for one mind to bare. That's why I'm thankful when Carl eventually walks astride with me and brings me out of my thought-filled daze.

"Something on your mind?"

Carl really doesn't need to ask that.

By now, he knows me well enough to understand that my silence usually means I'm thinking about something. Given what we'd talked about earlier in the day, he's bound to know my thoughts have drifted back to our earlier meeting with Ezekiel. When I don't reply immediately, however, Carl takes matters into his own hands, as per the usual for himself.

"You don't have to worry about me so much, you know?" he says sternly. "I can handle myself. You'll kill yourself if you keep stressing out like this."

That's all he has to say to have my undivided attention.

"I know you can watch after yourself, Carl." I argue, shooting him a serious glance. "That still doesn't keep me from caring about what happens to you. You know that."

Carl exhales from his nose rather forcefully.

"I wish I could convince you otherwise." he murmurs under his breath. "I hate seeing you so stressed all the time."

The true irony of this situation is that both of us are worried about the other, yet frustrated because the other is being affected negatively by this. Still, there is little choice for either of us. We don't know how bad the bloodshed will get when the real fighting begins. Yet, even beyond all of this, there is something else eating at the back of my mind. Something darker. Something I've been trying to suppress since we settled down in Alexandria. No... something since long before then.

"I'm afraid of going back." I suddenly blurt out, garnering his attention again.

"Going back?" he repeats confused. "Going back home?"

I shake my head.

"Back to the way I was before Alexandria. Back before I met you." I explain. "I know its a weird thing to fear. Believe me, I've thought the same. I just keep thinking... If I lose you... If something happens to you, there will be nothing to hold it back anymore. I can't stand the thought of losing somebody else. You especially."

Carl's expression changes from one of annoyance to soft understanding.

"You're not going to lose me." he attempts to reassure me. "We've made it through everything else. Why would this be any different?"

Its the same line we give each other the moment the other starts to be overwhelmed by the state of the world.

I've said the same thing to Carl a numerous amount of times. Usually, its enough to calm the both of us down. We've been through a lot of shit together, so whenever he says that to me, or I to him, its a reminder to us both of what we can overcome as a team. This time is distinctly different for me, however. I can still visualize Negan's brutality perfectly in my mind, where it has been forever branded. The man and his gang are unlike any threat we've ever faced. Even the bandits that attacked us prior to our arrival in Terminus weren't as ferocious as Negan seems to be. There is something else, though. The root of all of this fear, rational or irrational though it may be. The fear of being alone. Carl suffered from loneliness on a psychological level throughout various times prior to meeting me, but he always had a group around him through it all. He didn't know both physical and psychological loneliness like I did.

Tapping on the memories bring fragments to the surface.

Fragments of memories I'd tried so hard to bury.

I'd spent two years, the first two after the plague hit, roaming from place to place until I'd met Carl. After my group in Atlanta died, I was all alone. At first I was okay with that. I blamed myself for their deaths, so it was only right for me to be alone. Now looking back, however, I see just how much that loneliness had affected what I soon became. Every day I became colder. Hatred and resentment had festered deep within my heart. The me that met Carl all those years ago almost doesn't seem like the same person as the me now reflecting on all of these memories. The mere idea that I had once held the tip of my sword to Carl's neck in our initial meeting makes me cringe with shame and regret. The difference between the me then and the current me are as stark and defining as the difference between Jekyll and Hyde.

Carl's hand suddenly clasping my shoulder again brings me out of my thoughts.

"Relax." he again reassures me. "Everything is going to be okay."

I nod weakly.

I want to believe him.

God knows I want to believe him so badly.

But there is a premonition to suggest otherwise...

####

Two hours pass by.

My group has made decent progress in our journey home. That isn't to say that our traveling hasn't gone without its troubles and kinks. Just like it was closer to the city, walker activity has certainly increased even here, closer to home. Not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to ourselves, Rick instructs us to attempt to remain out of sight of the walkers and only take out the ones that get too close for comfort. The worst spot, so far, was the area just outside of Ronald Reagan National Airport. Once the portal to an infinite number of destinations, the airport is now little more than a crumbling shell of a building whose parking lot is crawling with walkers; likely left over patrons from when the outbreak began mixed with those who have stumbled in over the past five years. We'd made it past the airport with a great amount of care, crossed over a shoot of stream of the river, and are now finally in the home stretch. Throughout the final stretch home, the group breaks off into their usual casual conversations between each other.

"Sheesh," I say to Michonne, next to me. "Its been awhile since I've had to walk this much outside the safe zone."

Michonne manages one of her rare, almost mischievous grins.

"You almost make it sound like you miss it." she points out.

"In some ways." I admit with a smirk. "You know, minus the walkers and all the psychotics roaming around lately."

"Speak for yourself." she jokes. "I like actually having a bed to sleep in."

Touche.

She actually has a point there. I can remember complaining to Carl more than once, during our time on the road, about just how uncomfortable sleeping on the ground or in some barn was at the time. Michonne glances over her shoulder and I, curiously, follow her line of sight. Carl is walking just a couple of steps behind us, hands at his side and head down in deep, silent thought.

And he gets on to me for thinking too much.

I can't help but smirk at that thought.

"Saw you two talking earlier." Michonne suddenly resumes speaking, startling me from watching Carl. "Everything alright?"

I give Carl another glance and then sigh.

"Yeah, for what its worth." I reply.

"You don't sound too convinced."

Now I regard her seriously, "We're both worried about the same thing and wish that the other didn't have to worry about it so much." I explain.

Michonne manages another light chuckle at that.

"You two really are meant for each other." she says. "I didn't think I'd meet anyone who internalized things as much as Rick and Carl do until I met you."

"Gee, thanks, Mich." I moan, rolling my eyes.

This earns me a playful nudge from the older woman, who merely continues to smile at me. Her smile, however, fades rather rapidly, as if her mind was suddenly racked by a new series of thoughts. Thoughts that distracted her from a brief moment of jovial playfulness.

"You're still thinking about Tara, aren't you?"

I hate when I'm right.

Michonne is a very blunt person, not one to hold back her thoughts or perception, especially whenever she feels like it is necessary to discuss such things. The truth is that I've never stopped thinking about Tara. The fact that, when we return to Alexandria, I can't hunt her down and poke fun at her, which she undoubtedly would return back at me, makes my chest feel hollow. The fear and paranoia that resulted from her death has now spread outward and attached itself to Carl. Never in my time with this group did I think Tara would die the way she did. So now, even knowing all that Carl and I have been through, I worry that I could lose him in a similar, shocking, unexpected moment. That particular fear is eating me alive. As cliche as it is of me to think this, losing Carl would break me in every way a man can be broken. I simply can't fathom a life of any kind of normalcy without him which is ironic, considering that, prior to meeting him, I was content with just being alone. It really goes to show just how much Carl has changed me over the years.

"Tanner?"

"Yeah," I blurt out. "Every day."

Michonne recoils, pursing her lips and gathering her thoughts. Then she turns back to me.

"Tanner, you-"

An explosion of shrapnel, which causes my heart to leap and my ears to ring, completely cuts Michonne off, sending her sprawling for cover while I jolt backwards towards Carl. Another spray of gunfire has the entire group sprawling for shelter behind trees and abandoned vehicles. I can barely hear anything between the ringing in my ear and the violent thumping of my own heart. I take a moment to catch my ragged breath, then turn to check on Carl. Carl is crouched next to me and has completely gone into survival mode. His gun is out and he is carefully peaking around the back end of the car we're using for shelter. For a moment, all around us, silence descends and consumes us.

"Are you alright?" I whisper towards Carl.

"Fine." he replies just as silently. "You?"

I simply nod my reply.

Across from us, I can see Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne behind a much larger passenger van. I can't see Rick, Jesus, Daryl, or Sasha however. Before I can mimic Carl and peak out to see what's going on, the gunfire resumes, making a distinctive shredding sound as the shots strike the other side of the vehicle Carl and I are behind. I duck and cover my head as the glass on the windows above me are shattered, sending shards of sharp glass scattering across the street. I carefully seize the handle of my sword and slide it out of his sheathe. I don't know how effective I'll be with this thing against gunfire like that, but I'm not the kind to just sit down and wait to be rescued. Once the fire stops again, I finally manage to peak around the corner and get a view of our attackers. Like us, they too are using abandoned vehicles for cover, but I can see a few of them. Though I don't know them by name, I recognize their faces from the factory.

They're Saviors.

The first shot from our side comes from somewhere outside the range of my vision. I can only presume it comes from Rick. I see the bullet strike the vehicle in which the majority of the Saviors are hiding behind. A sudden BANG from right beside me suggests that Carl has taken his father's lead and joined in the gunfight. I recoil behind the front bumper of the vehicle again as the Saviors resume spraying rapid gunfire in our direction. At this point, we're pretty much at a stalemate. I grit my teeth in frustration. We were nearly home! Alexandria is literally just a few blocks away which means the community may be in just as much danger as we are. I don't get a chance to continue that line of thought, however.

Its a noise that always manages to cause my body to break out in goosebumps.

I first hear it during yet another cessation of the gunfire, like a growing sickness in the wind.

At first, its a faint howling, a sinister whisper with the cold winter air. Everyone else seems to hear it too, because the gunfire doesn't come again from either side. Across from us, I can see Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne tilting their heads as if trying to pinpoint where the noise is coming from. That's when the horrifying realization dawns on me.

Its all around us.

The loud gunfire must have drawn them from miles and miles around. The increased activity lately certainly would support that. The first group of walkers breaks through the threes behind Carl and I. Instinctively, I cover his back, raising my sword and lashing out with two fatal strikes. Around us, the gunfire again ignites, only this time, its not just aiming for us. Realization strikes me a second time as I see just how many walkers are pouring out of the surrounding neighborhoods from every conceivable direction. They're everywhere. In a way, this is worse than a single herd which is all lumped together. At least, with those, you can see every walker and can avoid them, so long as you keep your distance. Not with this group. Carl leaps up from his crouched position, taking shots at several new walkers that have emerged and dropping every last one.

"There are too many of them!" I yell over the gunfire towards Carl.

He turns to respond, but instead, we quickly dive behind the car again as a renewed spray of gunfire is sent across the dashboard of our metallic shield.

"Make a run for home!" I hear Rick shout from somewhere in the chaos.

That may be our best shot.

Home is only a few blocks away. If we bolt and make it there, we'll have walls and reinforcements. I look behind me at Carl, who has a spray of blackened walker blood staining his usually pale cheeks, and he nods his approval. Without waiting for any further clearance, the two of us keep our heads down as we take of sprinting for the vehicle where Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne are waiting for us. Reunited and unharmed, the five of us resume running down the street, doing our best to avoid gunfire even as we continue to put down walker after walker. In a way, the walkers are again helping us. The sheer number of them are keeping the gunfire aimed at us to a minimum.

Separated by the walkers, I can see Rick, Jesus, Daryl, and Sasha making their way in the same direction as us. I'm relieved to seem the all alive and together. We push through, shooting, or in Michonne and I's case, slashing our way through wave after wave of the horde of undead. Rick is the first to run out of ammo, switching to using his combat knife instinctively, which he wields quite masterfully against his cadaver foes. Slowly we push out way through the horde and finally are within sight of Alexandria's walls. The wall group, which I assume consists of Abraham and the others at the moment, spots us coming and immediately begins sending fire in the direction of our assailants both living and dead. As more and more walkers drop dead, the Saviors are able to shoot towards us more easily. Glenn, Maggie, and Daryl are able to pop off a few good shots at them, but our continued running prevents us from really putting a dent in their ambush.

"Get those gates open!" Rick roars up to Abraham as we get within shouting distance.

I hope he's quick.

We're trapped like rats with the closed gates at our back and a combination of hungry walkers and murderous Saviors in front of us. Once more we seek shelter behind anything that can act as a shield between ourselves and the Saviors' renewed effort to gun us down. The walkers, however, don't care much what we hide behind, so instead of being able to collect our thoughts and counterattack our assailants, we're too busy trying to fend off the walkers that stumble upon our hiding places. The situation looks bleak. For certain, luck is not on our side for this battle. Like music to my ears, I suddenly hear the sound of wood creaking as the semi-wood, semi-metal gates of our community begin to push open and the group begins to slowly back towards our soon-to-be escape route. For a split instant, relief sweeps over me as I'm sure we'll overwhelm our enemies once reinforcements come pouring through and we're able to resupply ourselves.

That relief is immediately dashed in the worst possible manner.

A gunshot rings out.

Among the torrent of other gunshots and the snarls of the walkers, it seems nearly impossible that I could pick out a single gunshot. This one however... this one has the potential to be life changing. Or, more appropriately... life shattering. I turn just in time to see the impact and too late to do anything about it. A geyser of warm blood sprays my already dirty face and hair, and my eyes widen in horror. Horror, not because there is fresh blood on me, and not because the Saviors are gunning at us with renewed vigor. Horror because the victim of this gunshot realizes my worst nightmare and the source of every worry I've had since this conflict began.

The victim is none other than Carl Grimes.

####

Carl staggers for a moment, almost as though he's waking up from some terrible dream.

The entire right side of his face, where his eye once was, is gone. His remaining blue eye meets my horrified look and he suddenly goes very, very, very pale.

"...Tanner?"

Its one word.

For all I know, its his last.

After uttering my name once, Carl's legs give out from under him, and he collapse. A burst of heat from deep within me ignites an inferno I'd long kept dormant. Reacting on pure instinct, and the training I'd received alongside Tara as a medic, I drop and catch Carl before he can hit the ground. I don't waste time checking his vitals. A shot to the head is almost always fatal so I have to get him medical attention now or he is finished. Carl is like a limp noodle in my arms, allowing me to pick him up with ease... and then I run. Run like I've never run before. So fast that Rick and the others barely have time to register what has just transpired. The gates to the community are barely open wide enough to classify as an escape, but somehow I manage to punch through. I ignore the shouting. Ignore the gunshots still coming from outside the wall. I have one destination in mind and I'm not stopping until I get there.

Denise's house.

Denise Cloyd, the community's official resident doctor.

Oh God...

I have to hurry!

Please..!

"Hang in there, Carl!" I shout to him even though I know he can't hear me anymore. "Please just keep breathing!"

By the time I reach the street where Denise's house stands, hot tears are streaming down my face and streaking off into the air, blown away by the cold wind and the speed I'm using to reach my destination. I don't exercise any common courtesy. Upon reaching the door, I rear back, and kick with all my might, bursting through the front door, which slams violently against the inside wall. Denise herself bursts from a nearby hallway after hearing the noise.

"What the hell is going on?!" she roars, still not seeing the situation unfolding before her.

"Carl!" I gasp through exhaustion and a steady stream of tears. "Carl was shot!"

Denise's eyes dart from myself to Carl immediately and his limp body hits her like a ton of bricks.

Like me, she has no time for sentiments. She juts acts.

"Bring him here, now!" she demands.

With the clock ticking, Denise leads me into a special room she had built quite awhile ago. Being the town's resident doctor, she felt it necessary to furnish a room where she could operate if necessary. Complete with a hospital bed, it is the only place I know of where Carl's life can be saved. And, at this moment, that is literally all that matters to me. As soon as I'm in the room, I carefully, yet quickly lay Carl's body in the bed. The expression frozen on his face is nothing but raw pain. My heart seizes in my chest. Carl is bleeding profusely and so we immediately leap to stop the bleeding.

"Can you save him?!" I plead between tears. "Will he live?!"

"I don't know." Denise replies solemnly, yet truthfully. "But I'm going to try. Where's Rick?"

In all the confusion, I didn't even register where Rick might be.

"Probably on his way." I confess. "I don't know if he saw what happened."

Denise nods.

"I need to work on him now if he wants a chance at life." she explains bluntly. "That's going to require an operation and its not going to be pretty. I know I'm asking a lot of you by saying this, but Tanner, you can't be here for this."

My heart stops.

"W-why n-n-not?" I stutter. "You trained me! I can help!"

"You're in no emotional state to help." she snaps even as she begins pulling out the equipment she'll need. "In your state of mind, you might accidentally hurt him. Now I'll do everything in my power to save his life, but you need to go!"

Tears spill out of my eyes even more freely as anger seeps into the sadness. My loved one, my significant other, my other half was shot and I couldn't protect him. And now, even though I have the training needed to help, I can't even assist Denise in saving his life. For a brief moment I remember the Saviors still outside gunning at our friends and family. The same Saviors that shot and may have killed Carl. A sudden, violent rage erupts from deep inside. Rage so powerful I can feel my very body shaking underneath its weight. Its as though a sleeping dragon has awakened in the depths of my soul. Heading Denise's plea and with one last look of longing towards Carl's mangled form, I dash from the room and head towards the still-open front door. Every step I take builds the hatred festering inside my heart. Bursting into the cold winter air, I can still hear the fighting going on in the distance, and so I bolt towards it.

I won't let those Saviors escape.

For what they've done...

...for what they've all done, I'll kill them.

I'll kill them all!

One thing is for certain.

Jekyll is no more...

...Hyde has been unleashed.

A/N: Whew... doosey of a chapter, eh? This scene has been anticipated by a few people ever since I was writing This Cruel Reality. I told them back then that if I did incorporate this scene, it would wait until this story was written. Initially, this scene was meant to happen much earlier, but I wanted to drag things out a bit. Make it a shock ;) Hope I did my job. The next chapter will be a big one for Tanner in terms of character development. He's never come this close to losing Carl before. They've been in some sticky situations before, but never like this. Will Carl survive this, and what will happen to Tanner as a result of this? Those are all up in the air. No spoilers! I have a plan and some more twists to introduce, so don't get comfortable just yet ;) All in all, though, I hope this was yet another enjoyable chapter for my readers. Thank you all for being so supportive of this story. I've enjoyed writing it and especially enjoyed having the readers be so involved and engaged :)

On to the reviews:

Youngblooded: Yay! I'm so happy to hear from you again! I'm so glad you think so! I'm doing my best to do both stories justice with this one. Glad you approve :) Good to hear from you again!

IamwhoIam987: Thank you! You're so kind! :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much! Thank you for your review!

Obtained: Oh don't worry, Shiva the tiger will have some absolutely badass moments to come :D You shall enjoy those greatly. I don't think they will disapoint you at all hahaha

Guest: I'm so glad you asked that! The inspiration for This Cruel Reality came from the fact that Carl never really had a decent male friend. Three seasons and Sophia was the only one he really got close to and we all know how that ended. In Season 4 there was Patrick, but Carl didn't seem all that close to him. Sure he mourned his death, but nothing like he did with Sophia. After seeing the mid-season premiere of Season 4, I was inspired to write a story about Carl meeting someone while his dad was passed out in that neighborhood and the two becoming quite close. I'd been wanting to do a story about Carl and Michonne's growing friendship for sometime, so this allowed me to accomplish both of those goals and This Cruel Reality is what resulted from that. This story, the sequel, however, was inspired about midway through writing This Cruel Reality. I'd been reading the comics and such and had the thought, "What would happen to Tanner and Carl after Terminus. Would they settle down, would something happen to them?" And so I deviated from my plan to kill Tanner at the end of This Cruel Reality and decided upon a sequel to show their life closer to adulthood. Thank you so much for that question! :)

tentails: Good to hear! Negan definitely has nothing good planned! That much I promise! Stay tuned to see what he's up to :)

Thank you guys so much for your reviews! Keep 'em coming! I'm loving them! :)

Until the next one, folks.

Later!