"If you give me wings,
I will soar for you.
Even if this whole land,
sinks into water.
If you give me a sword,
I will fight for you.
Even if this whole sky,
is shot through with your light."
— Tite Kubo
The tears won't stop flowing.
The frigid wind is caustic against the patches of my cheeks left sensitive by the salty stream of tears streaking across them. The echoes of my feet pounding the pavement as I continue to run towards where the gunfight is still unfolding. The sound of gunshots ring out loudly throughout the streets. There isn't a proper word to describe the feelings going through my head. Unbearable rage is only being tempered by the tremendous sorrow currently racking my heart. As I round the street corner, bringing the gates of Alexandria once more into sight, my mind is pulled into a very powerful flashback; taking me back three years to the month after Terminus that my group spent on the road, prior to finding out about Alexandria.
That place seems so distant.
A time in which Carl and I were just boyfriends in love.
Eons ago, in terms of time, and yet, now it is all coming back to me as though it had just happened yesterday...
####
I pull my sword free of a walker's skull, causing it to make a sickening, bloody sloshing noise as it comes free.
The pack of walkers we had just killed was at least several dozen corpses strong. Rick had taken Daryl and Glenn ahead to scout out the town ahead of us. The last thing we wanted was to run into a massive herd while traveling through the town and then get trapped as a result. This leaves the rest of us to clean ourselves up and rest while they continue their hunt. We're all on guard. Even though we've long since left Georgia, Terminus is still fresh on everyone's mind. No one wants to be caught off guard by yet another group of roaming maniacs.
Using one of our water bottles, I rinse the bloody muck from the walkers off of my face in an attempt to feel at least somewhat clean. I then cross the roadside to the guardrail in which Carl is sitting on, his baby sister Judith perched quite happily in his lap. Like me, he has walker blood stains on his cheeks, but in contrast, he has made very little effort to clean them off. He sees me coming and offers me a warm smile from underneath the shade of his trademark sheriff's hat, scooting over just a little bit to allow me to take a seat next to the two of them. Having seen my approach, Judith coos rather cutely at me. The infant Grimes has become quite attached to me in the short time we've known each other. Carl in particular takes a great liking to this. He seems quite overjoyed that Judith and I, despite the fact that she's an infant, have really hit it off.
"Do you remember when your brother and sister were this little?"
This is the third time.
After Carl had reunited with Judith, I'd finally told him about my own siblings. My brother Mike and sister Anna. Ever since I'd told her about them, he's been occasionally asking about them. Admittedly, I've been avoiding indulging his requests for more information. Remembering my siblings isn't exactly an easy thing to do. Even so, I feel bad for dodging him so much. After all, he had talked to me about Judith all the time when he had still thought she was dead. Back before Carol and Tyreese had reunited the Grimes family.
Then why?
Why does my stomach churn with regret and sorrow?
Why does my mind spin?
Anytime I try to speak about them, the same thing happens. But I know, in my heart of hearts, that it'll never get better if I don't try. I can trust Carl with that information. After all, if I can't trust him, then there really is no one left that I can truly trust.
"No." I finally reply to him. "I was three when Mike was born. Five with Anna. I remember them being young, but, not as young as Judith."
Carl's entire demeanor lights up.
Other than telling him I even had siblings to begin with, this is the first time I've really ever given him any other information about them. Perhaps he senses that I'm starting to let him into that part of my life, now, as well. The last vestiges of my life that he has little to no knowledge about. And, as usual with confessions, once you start, you can hardly stop yourself from continuing to spill your guts. So that's what I do...
"The three of us were so radically different from each other." I explain to him. "I was a loner. A geek by some definitions. Not very well liked in school. But I was okay with that. Mike, however, he was popular. Had tons of friends, girlfriends, you name it, even for his age. Not to mention he was outgoing. And Anna..." recalling my baby sister always causes me to pause and hold back the tears stinging at the back of my eyes. "Anna was a big ball of energy. Very kind and outgoing. Lots of friends too. We were closer than my brother and I. When she was five, making me around ten, I saved her from drowning during a family trip to the lake. We were close ever since."
Throughout my explanation, Carl waits patiently for me to get it all out.
I suppose, by now, he knows just how painful loss of family members can be. In his lap, Judith makes a childish coo and burps cutely, briefly distracting us from the rather serious turn the conversation has taken.
"Do you still miss them?"
Carl's tone is serious and, if I didn't know better, somewhat depressed. He stares ahead of us, at the bloodstained concrete of the road ahead. I can see the pain hiding just behind his azure eyes. He's never been very good at hiding it from me, though he is pretty good at not reacting to it as openly as I tend to do. Returning my thoughts to his question, I lower my own head as the memories all come flooding back like the waters of a tsunami breaking the levies.
"Yeah..." I finally mutter. "Every day."
He nods solemnly, "I still miss Mom too." he confesses. "Think we'll ever move on?"
I turn and look him right in the eyes.
He's serious, as usual. Carl's questions always have meaning. Especially in this context.
"I don't know." I reply to him honestly. "But, no matter what, you have me." I give him a soft smile and wrap my arm around his waist. "Always."
Those words seem to bring some color back to Carl's pale complexion.
He doesn't look at me, but even so, a small, brief smile touches the corners of his lips.
"Yeah..." he replies. "And you have me too."
####
My family...
Mom, Dad, Mike, Anna... they're all gone..
Carl is my last true family.
Oh God...
The gate is closing in. Each frantic step brings me closer and closer to my destination. My grip instinctively tightens around the handle of my sword as I prepare to fly into combat.
Please...!
I can hear the gunshots getting louder. I can see the lurching figures of the walkers still filling the streets where the fighting is taking place. Where the bastards who shot Carl are apparently still fighting.
Please let him live!
Hand still on the handle of my long, sharp weapon, I quickly pull the sword from its sheathe. Its all I can do just to blink back tears as I resume my charge towards the ongoing fighting.
Please... he's all I have left...
Whirling.
The blade of my weapon catches the sun's harsh light, casting a blinding glint as I leap through the open threshold of Alexandria's gates, back into the fray I'd left just moments ago. The combination of my powerful memories just a few moments ago, combining with the grief and hatred welling up inside of me, begins to finally come to a boiling point. It feels like a heated pressure building within my abdomen, which then begins to rise through my chest, and then even higher. All at once, it explodes out of me as my sword connects with the first walker I come into contact with. An explosion of walker blood and entrails rains down on me as I repeat this with cadaver after cadaver. Before I can get a true grasp on my position, I feel someone back their back into my own. A lock of raven black hair sweeps just by my field of vision and I immediately know who I'm back-to-back with.
"What happened?" Michonne asks as she frantically decapitates yet another walking corpse. "Is Carl okay?"
The tears are still blinding me.
All I can make out are the grey, decayed outlines of the enemy as I continue to slash through their reanimated corpses in anguish and rage.
"He got shot." I reply bluntly.
A blast of gunfire deals with several of the walkers around me and I quickly trace the source to Abraham. He and Rosita have resumed their positions atop the walls, sniping down any walker that comes too close to one of our people.
"Where are those bastards?" I question Michonne coldly. "The Saviors."
"They retreated." Michonne replies.
My blood boils.
They got away...
"Go find Rick." Michonne instructs me.
I simply flash her a confused, yet serious glance. Is she serious?
"He needs to know what's happened." she elaborates. "Go. I'll cover you."
"After this!" I shout back at her. "I won't leave you! I'm sick of watching people die! Tyreese! Tara! Maybe Carl! I won't just sit back and take it anymore! Rick will have to wait until these monsters are dealt with. I won't let anyone else get killed!"
Michonne doesn't question me any further after that. The following moments seem to consume an eternity's worth of time. In reality, only about ten minutes pass as we all slaughter the thinning herd of walkers around our home. When it is finally over, I am standing knee high in a pile of rotting corpses. It seems that everyone around me is standing in similar conditions. There are so many walker bodies littering the ground, it is becoming impossible to to see the pavement of the road in certain places. We're all practically covered in walker blood and gore. My chest and arms burn from the intense workout, my breath coming in labored gasps, and yet, I can still only think about Carl.
"Is everyone alright?" Rick's own weakened voice comes.
I suppose its now or never.
Its time for Rick to find out what's happened.
"Not everyone, Rick..." I reply solemnly.
Rick Grimes freezes. That motion alone confirms that, in all of the chaos, he had neither see Carl get shot, nor seen me run from the area to get him to medical care. The elder Grimes scans the remaining survivors, frantically searching for his son. Each time he scans, his expression becomes more labored and pained. Realization, like the cruel mistress it is, slowly dawns on him and his panicked expression hits me like an avalanche.
"Where's Carl?" Rick's voice cracks with emotion.
Rick's display of emotion slams into my own festering sorrow, causing tears again to spill from their ducts and down my cheeks.
"Denise..." is the only word I manage to choke out of my mouth.
Then we're both running...
####
Carl Grimes is completely motionless on the makeshift hospital bed in Denise Cloyd's small home.
Were it not for his, albeit shallow, chest rising and falling in time with his labored breathing, it'd be hard to tell him apart from a fresh corpse. When Rick had first seen him, the community leader had completely fallen apart in a manner I'd only seen him do once before; when he'd reunited with his youngest child, Judith, years ago. In the short time since I'd last been here, Denise has finally managed to stop his excessive bleeding and bandage the excruciating injury to the right side of Carl's head. Now the guy I love is laying motionless and pale in a deep coma. Denise also managed to hook him up to an IV, which at least will keep his fluid levels up while he is unconscious. Rick has taken to pacing back and forth near the entrance to the room, while I sit directly next to Carl, lightly cradling his limp hand in my own. In some small way, I hope he knows I'm sitting here with him. Even if he can't respond, I want him to know that. The door to the room suddenly is thrown open and Denise strolls through, trapping our attentions on her.
"Well?" Rick asks worriedly.
The bespectacled woman sighs, taking a sip out of the coffee mug in her right hand, before giving me a brief glance.
"This is the truth." she says lowly. "He's stable for the moment. He's in a coma and I have no way of knowing if the damage to his brain will keep him that way."
"...What?" I gasp incredulously. "He won't wake up?"
Denise affords me a compassionate look.
"I didn't say that." she replies truthfully. "I just don't know. He could wake up and be fine, or he could wake up and be very severely impaired... or... he could just not wake up at all."
"Is there anything we can do?" Rick interjects, mirroring my line of thought.
Denise shakes her head wearily.
"Afraid not." she says. "At this point, its all up to Carl. He's a fighter so, in my opinion, he's got a good chance. But that's far from a guarantee."
"Thank you." Rick responds. "I know you're doing your best.
Denise simply nods with understanding and agreement, "I'll let you two alone for now. Let me know if anything changes."
The curly-headed doctor turns and exits the room, shutting the door sharply behind her, finally leaving Rick and I alone to our thoughts. The silence that replaces the conversation is suffocating. The anxiety invading my heart feels like there is an entire ocean crushing down on top of my chest. Even though Denise is hopeful that Carl will make it, the possibility of him never waking up terrifies me. I feel completely miserable. My own body feels like its finally crumbling under the weight of the recent events that have plagued our lives. Now all I can seem to do is helplessly hold on to Carl's hand and silently beg the heavens to give him another chance. I become so enraptured in watching Carl sleep, I fail to notice Rick approaching me from the side until he reaches down and places his large burly hand gently on top of the spot where my hand wraps around Carl's, effectively touching both our hands at once. The sudden touch jolts me from my daze, causing me to jump slightly, until I see that it is Rick.
"Thank you, as well." the elder Grimes practically whispers to me.
I grit my teeth hard.
"Thank you for what?" I reply more venomously than intended. "I failed him. He was right next to me and...-"
The urge to cry is becoming too much to resist. I bite down forcefully on my lower lip to force the urge to subside. As if the images of Tara's death trapped in my head weren't tormenting enough, now I can mentally recall every gruesome detail about seeing Carl take a bullet to his head. His own blood had sprayed across my face. If I think about it hard enough, I can still feel the warm ooze of the crimson fluid dripping down my cheek. Well, that is simply too much for me. At first a single tear escapes their ducts. Then two. My body heaves in response to this, but I remain defiant, fighting back the absolutely agonizing pain racking my chest.
"And don't tell me it wasn't my fault." I continue, making a horrid sobbing noise. "It was my job to protect him! Mine!"
I find it hard to control my rapidly rising voice.
The result of the anger, grief, and remorse I feel swelling inside of me is finally finding its escape. Were I in my right mind, I'd probably be surprised that Rick is so patiently waiting for me to get it all of my chest. In a sort of odd way, its a lot like what Carl does when I get upset, or what I do when he is in a similar situation. Whatever the reason, I pay it no heed and simply keep shouting.
"What good am I if I can't help anyone I love?! Tara is dead and my finger was on the trigger!" I sob. "And now... now, if I lose him, I'd... I'd just...-"
"Go crazy?" Rick interjects in his thick Georgian accent, stopping me dead in my rant. "Feel like you just want to kill something, anything? Maybe even like you're gonna die?"
Okay, he's got my attention.
My tears feel as though they're the temperature of the sun, but I manage to get a grip on myself long enough to hear him out.
"That's how I felt when Lori died." he goes on. "Helpless. I was her husband. My job was to keep her, Carl, and the baby safe and I failed her."
Rick looks up from the floor, his eyes, the same vibrant cobalt as Carl's, meeting with my more murky blue eyes; locking us into an intense staring match. For an instant, Rick Grimes looks as old as he feels. Its just a glimpse, as though my similar situation to his has somehow granted me a momentary snapshot into the man's walled-up heart. For the first time, I can see all of the pain and burden Rick Grimes has etched into the very lines of the wrinkles on his face. I can see the weariness in his eyes and once more I find myself humbled by the fact that Rick is infinitely more wise than I, having experienced much of what I've been going through, at least to the point where he can relate to me.
"I still live with the guilt of that."
I look down at the ground in shame.
Shame because I am beginning to fear having to live with the same guilt. My heart aches terribly. Five years ago, when the outbreak began, living on my own and depending on no one but myself was a simple task. Not only was it simple, but it was how I survived and got by. Meeting Carl taught me as much about relying on your friends and loved ones, as much as his meeting me taught him the exact same lesson. Now, to have to ponder having that bond cut, and suddenly feeling alone again, is simply unbearable. My heart is begging him not to leave me. They say that you always find the strength to press on after a loss. That is true to an extent. Because I have Carl, I am able to cope with Tara's death. Some moments are better than others, but I always knew he would be there to help me along. That is now threatened, which causes me to believe that maybe I won't make it if something happens to him.
I certainly can't see myself getting very far.
"But you have nothing to feel guilty for."
Rick's voice rouses me from my thoughts and I glance up from the floor and meet his gaze once again.
"What do we do now?"
This question has come up a few times since Negan's first appearance.
"We rebuild. The walkers are manageable." Rick replies. "Its the Saviors we have to worry about. We've worked so hard to make this place work. Three years. I'm not about to let them take that away from us. This is our home now. We'll clean it up, repair the damage, and then... we carry on."
"And what about Negan?"
"We'll do what we've always done. Stand our ground and fight." he explains. "We made a mistake. We were much too worried about the walkers. It's almost like we'd forgotten Terminus. The Governor. We let people catch us off guard again and it cost us, but no more. We have numbers now. With Jesus and Ezekiel, we're sure to take back what's ours. We'll crush them."
The enthusiasm in Rick's voice takes me back.
Given the circumstances, I had figured he'd be just as solemn as me, but he's not. I take my eyes off of Rick for a moment, glancing over at Carl. Carl hasn't moved an inch since we've been in the room with him. The most movement he's done is the rising and falling of his chest during his labored breathing. He's so pale, hair in a messy mop spread out on the pillow, and laying there like this, he looks so fragile. Its amazing that someone as strong as Carl has, in the blink of an eye, been brought to his knees and is now clinging to dear life as a result. It absolutely breaks my heart.
"You let me worry about Negan." Rick says softly.
"I can't let him get away with this, Rick." I reply sternly.
"We won't. But you're no good to us exhausted and depressed." Rick lectures me bluntly. "You haven't rested in days. Leave it to me to take care of things with the Saviors. Stay here and watch after Carl for me."
He doesn't have to ask me that twice.
While sleep is certainly out of the question for me while Carl is so badly hurt, I don't mind staying here with him and getting some rest. Rick suddenly stands and begins to walk in the direction Denise went; towards the door to the small makeshift hospital room. He stops short of leaving the room, hand firmly grasping the knob as though a thought had stopped him in his tracks.
"Whatever you do." he speaks to me again. "Don't lose your hope."
Hope.
Now there's a word I haven't heard in awhile.
Before I can ask him anything more, Rick twists the knob, pulls open the door and exits; leaving me alone with my unconscious Carl.
####
Hope.
Hours have passed since Rick spoke that word to me and yet it continues to echo inside my head. Night has fallen. Denise had brought me blankets and a pillow, her way of granting me her blessing to remain here with Carl overnight despite the fact that this is her home. Carl's condition, so far, has neither improved nor worsened. He continues to snooze, almost peacefully, while I continue to be wracked by turmoil. It really is a terrible combination. My body aches from a combination of exhaustion and anxiety. My mind makes laps around itself as it tries to sort out the day's events. Most prominently, however, is the pit of seemingly endless dread that I feel in my stomach. Like a void that has been opened and can never be closed.
The more I sit here and sulk, the more angry I become with myself. When I was shot in Terminus and was down for the count, Carl got off of his ass, stormed by to Terminus with the others and took care of business. I'm convinced he'd be disappointing in me if I just sit here and do nothing, but there is nothing I can do. Rick is right. I'm much to exhausted and emotionally spent to be any use to the others. At least for the present moment.
So what can I do?
There must be something.
Something I can do to make this up to Carl and the others.
"Don't lose your hope."
Hope.
I can't lose my...
But... what is there to hope in? To hope for?
Peace is out of the question. I can't hope for that. War is on the way and is rightfully deserved. Negan and his Saviors need to be wiped away so that the communities can begin to rebuild and move on. I can't hope that nobody else gets hurt, or worse, dies. Two have already died and there is likely to be more casualties on the way with the impending fighting. So how can Rick expect me to be hopeful? Nothing about our predicament is hopeful. In fact, quite the opposite, it looks hopeless. My eyes drift upward, again falling Carl whom I watch for several moments.
And then it hits me.
Carl.
I can hope for him.
Denise said there was a chance. Rick believes in his son enough to leave me here to watch him. If that's the case, then I'll place my hope in that. Its rather fitting. Carl who has become my everything has now become the last thing I can truly hope for. That realization brings about another: If Carl survives and lives, it will be a crushing blow to the Saviors, who would've failed for the third time to kill Rick's oldest child and it would act as hopeful symbol to the rest of the community. A symbol that tells them we can do this, no matter how hard things get or seem. I lift my hand out of my own lap, reach across the hospital bed to take Carl's limp hand into my own. There is no response that he recognizes I'm here.
No twitch.
No groan.
Not even so much as sigh.
Carl simply lays there, breathing shallowly, pale as a ghost. As I continue this line of thought and watch him sleep, I feel my confidence slowly coming back to me. That's the amazing effect Carl has on me, even now. Like a torch who offers its flame to keep the fire alive, the sheer fact that Carl actually survived the initial injury inspires me to believe in him more. If anyone can live through this, its Carl Grimes, the guy I love more than anything. The thought brings the faintest smile to my lips. The first genuine smile I've had since the wall.
"I'm sorry, Carl." I whisper to him, though I know he probably can't hear me. I gently squeeze his hand for emphasis. "I let myself sulk and almost forgot what really matters. Your dad is right. This is our home now. We have to defend it from these thugs. We can deal with the walkers. They're no real issue. We can clean the place up. We can rebuild. I've spent so much time worrying these past few days, I lost sight of the fact that we still have our friends around us. Mich and the others. I don't think Tara would want me to sulk like this. You were trying to tell me that earlier. Trying to tell me just to let it go and focus on what's important, but I didn't listen to you. I'm sorry for that."
I pause, lifting my hand from his hand and placing it gently on the curve of his left cheek; stroking it softly like he always likes.
"Well, I'm listening now." I go on. "You rest as much as you need, get your strength back, and when you're ready... please come back to me. I'm not ready to let you go. I'm selfish like that. So please be the fighter you always have been and I'll be right here by your side. When you wake up, we'll overcome this together, just like everything else."
That all said, I finally stand up and lean over to kiss him lightly on the cheek.
At the edge of the room is a small sofa where I make my bed for the night. Its not nearly as nice as the bed Carl and I share back home, but there is no way I'm going back there with him here. So, that being said, I make do with my accommodations, wrapping myself tightly within the blanket Denise gifted me with. The exhaustion of the past couple of days hits me like a massive mudslide, leaving me fighting to stay awake just a few more moments. I roll over, so that I'm facing Carl's direction, just in case anything happens during the night, and lightly whisper;
"I love you..."
And then sleep takes me.
A/N: That's a feelsy way to end a chapter, eh? This was a pretty full chapter for me to write, but I hope you guys enjoyed it. For those of you who have been wondering or asking about Tanner's family, that flashback is an allusion to This Cruel Reality, the first story. Those of you who have read it will recall Tanner saying they ran into a while they were still on their journey North, and that is where that flashback took place in. We also got a bit more out of Tanner about his family in that scene, which was the point. From the looks of it, Carl is going to be down and out for awhile, wouldn't you say? You'll see some important growth between he and Tanner soon. This event, as you may guess, will affect them rather significantly. Anyways, like I said, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it :) Sorry it took a little longer, but my job kept me rather busy this week. Review, comment, favorite, and follow!
Review time!
IamwhoIam987: That was the intended reaction! Hahaha xD Sorry for leaving you so frustrated, but I'm glad you enjoyed that chapter so much! Hope you enjoyed this one too :) Thanks for the review!
Guest: Thank you! :) I am absolutely not afraid of tragedy, you're right. I feel that it adds more tension and development to the characters and the plot. Life is not always happy, and neither is romance, so while I do enjoy writing tender moments between Tanner and Carl, I really want to emphasize the environment that they live in his hostile and I try to show that by actively looking for newer, more terrifying situations to put them in. You'll notice that its when they're in their darkest moments that their love for one another shines through the most, which is what I love to write. Thanks for the review :)
Obtained: Well, you know me xD I always like to send my readers on a feels trip hahaha
Thank you all so much :)
Looking forward to seeing you with the next chapter! It'll be an interestin' one!
Until the next one!
Later!