Disbelief.
That word alone is not powerful enough to encompass the feeling that rules my body right now. My grief-controlled mind simply will not allow any other word to form. Is this some sort of sick joke? A night terror Carl will soon awaken me from, only for me to find myself in a pool of sweat? Would he then comfort me? Assure me that it was just a nightmare? Maybe a kiss to reassure me before we both slip back off into our sleep? No. This is real. Carl cannot comfort me, cannot wake me from the nightmare of this reality. He cannot do so because Carl is currently wrapped in my arms, face contorted in the worst sort of anguish, crying out in grief and pain; his body violently shuttering against my own. No, Carl cannot comfort me and, regrettably, I cannot hope to comfort him. The pain that is slamming through his chest at the moment, I imagine, is unbearable.
Rick Grimes is dead.
How and why are unknowns to us. Sometime during the battle against Negan, Rick had vanished from both of our sights, and when we had again found him, he was already turned. Tears of disbelief and sorrow streak down my own dirty face. I do not remember crying for the loss of my own parents like this, when that realization had finally hit me years ago. So why? Of course, the answer is immediately apparent. Rick had done so much more for me than even my own parents had. My parents had given me life. Rick Grimes had preserved it. I owe him my life many times over and yet, in the end, I have failed him as well. Unable to protect him from the horrible fate that is lumbering towards Carl and I now.
Suddenly, sound returns to my ears. My mind, though still racked by grief, begins to clear. I know what has to happen now. What must always happen. Rick Grimes would never have wanted to become one of those... those things. They are everything he stood against. Everything he tried so desperately to protect us all from. Carl's loud sobs draw my attention back to where it needs to be. To him. To my most precious possession on this earth, whose heart is now shattering at the loss of his last remaining parent. Carl will want to be the one to do it. To put his father out of his diseased state; to end the reanimation. And I cannot allow that. Not because of some twisted attachment to Rick that would want to keep him bound to his earthly form.
No.
Nothing quite that sinister.
I cannot allow Carl to be the one to do it because I made a promise.
A promise I intend to keep.
####
1 year, 6 months ago...
Helping Rick tend to baby Judith is one of my favorite activities at home.
This particular evening, Carl is not with us, having volunteered to take the night shift watching the wall. That means that I will be sleeping alone tonight, something I dread probably a little more than I should. Therefore, I am looking for any little chore to keep my mind occupied for the time being. Helping Rick care for Judith, Carl'ls little sister, sounds to me like the prefect way to do so. The infant Grimes and I get along like siblings now. Fitting, considering I'm her brother-in-law now, though she doesn't know that yet. She's much too young to swallow such concepts just yet. Rick Grimes swaddles his daughter, the younger Grimes cooing in her father's strong arms as he takes her off to her crib, with me in hot pursuit.
"Just think," I say as we're in transit. "Before you know it, she'll be Carl's age and you'll be beating boys off of her with a stick."
Rick smirks at this.
It is not the first time he has heard someone comment on Judith eventually being old enough to date. I think he welcomes such talk. Most fathers, back in the old days, dreaded their daughters becoming young women. It meant that some young man was going to come by, regardless of his feelings, and sweep her off her feet; forever stealing her away. For Rick Grimes, however, that is hardly the perspective. I imagine he welcomes it because it gives him hope that little Judith will live to see that age. That the community we're building can really keep us safe that long.
"Let's not rush that." he retorts jokingly, as he always does.
Its the fatherly thing to say anyways.
"What about you?" he continues as we round the corner into his room. "Couldn't talk Carl out of taking the night shift?"
I snort a laugh at this.
As if I could! Talking Carl out of anything is like trying to put a fire out with your bare hands. You're going to be in a hell of a lot of pain and will be lucky to escape with third degree burns.
"I thought that was your job." I joke back at him, smirking as I do. "You are his father, after all."
Rick lifts his head, an identical smirk of his own curling across his lips.
"When I tell him 'no'," Rick says. "It only makes him want to do it more. He seems to take your concern more seriously."
Touche.
"Nah," I wave him off, watching as he lowers Judith gently down into her crib. "He respects you. He may not always say it... or show it..."
Rick has to hide a wider smirk at that one.
"But," I continue. "He thinks the world of you."
Rick suddenly regards me seriously. I can feel the shift in his mood. Its not necessarily a cold shift, rather one of curiosity. When I had first gotten to know he and Carl, the two Grimes had a strained relationship. Even now, the two men have their moments where neither one is willing to let the other have the last word on any matter, but they've improved. Despite this, Rick, as he does now, seems to genuinely seek out his son's love and affection. I imagine that he doesn't enjoy the arguments he gets in with Carl, but, being a father, has no choice sometimes.
"How do you know that?" he asks seriously.
I respect his mood with a serious mood shift of my own.
"Rick, if there is anyone on this planet I know well, its your son." I reply with certainty. "In all the time I've known him, every time you two have gotten into it with each other, he always tells me how much he wishes you'd acknowledge him. See him as a man. Your equal. His rebellious nature isn't because he resents you. Its because he wants you to see him for who he is. He wouldn't do that if he didn't respect you. If he didn't crave your approval. He goes about it the wrong way sometimes, but he's just a son who wants the love of his father. That's all."
For a moment, an awkward silence ensues between us, as Rick turns back to tending to his daughter; wrapping her in her blanket before turning his attention back to me.
"In fact," I go on, a new thought arising. "I don't know what he'd ever do if something were to happen to you."
That sentiment brings Rick pause. Like a light bulb has gone off in his head. Rick seems to gather his thoughts, momentarily playing with the hem of his soiled white t-shirt. Normally, I'd take that as my cue to leave the room and let him alone to his thoughts, but Rick has me curious, so I wait to hear what is on his mind.
"If something ever did happen to me," Rick begins.
I'm quick to cut him off.
"It won't." I snap sternly. "We're safe here."
"But if it does," Rick emphasizes each word to stress his seriousness. "If I... If I'm turned... You have to be the one to put me down. It can't be Carl."
My eyes narrow.
This is not the direction I wanted to go with this conversation.
"Don't talk like that." I say.
"Carl already had to put his own mother down." Rick continues, ignoring my pleas for him to stop. "I... I don't want him to have us both weighing on his conscious. Carl is strong, but that is enough to break any mind." He turns back to me. "Promise me, Tanner. If something ever happens to me, it can't be Carl; it has to be you."
I bite my lower lip.
I know, of course, that I have no choice. Rick's logic is sound and I certainly agree. If anything were to happen, Carl shouldn't have to be put through putting down two parents, even though I know he'd want to be the one. Its somewhat touching, in a morbid way, that Rick trusts me enough to make this request of me, though I sorely hope the day never comes where I have to fulfill my promise.
Still, I know what my responsibility is.
I have to accept.
"I don't want to, but..." I reply with a sure nod. "I promise you, Rick."
Rick's face brightens and he rewards me with a slap on the shoulder.
My thanks for agreeing.
"You really are a gentle kid." he finally says, as much
####
Present Time
By the time my mind returned from its trip into the past, Carl was already beginning to rise to do the deed. His sobs had not stopped, nor had his body ceased trembling, but he knows, just as I know, what must be done. My promise to Rick rooted deeply into my heart, I reach out and grab his wrist, bringing him to a complete stop. Normally, Carl would fight me, would insist that this is his job to do and become angry that I am preventing him from doing it. This time all he can do is turn towards me, eyes filled with salty tears, and look at me with slight confusion as to why I'd stop him. Using my grip on him as leverage, I pull myself into a standing position and force myself to walk in front of him, now standing between himself and the reanimated corpse of his father. The only thing keeping the Rick-thing and the other walkers from attacking us is the walker gore we'd spread on our clothing for camouflage
"What..." Carl chokes through his tears. "What are you doing?"
My sword is already brandished.
That should be answer enough for him. I don't know that I have the words he need to hear right now anyways.
"Tanner," he tries to protest. "I..."
"No." I punch out with my own teary voice. "It can't be you. You've endured so much. Please..." My voice is virtually a sob by this point. "Please, Carl. Let me bear this burden for you."
I don't wait for his answer.
If I do, he'll try to talk me out of it. I have to do this while my resolve is still firm.
Clenching my sword tightly in my hand, I take a step closer, raising the sharpened weapon to finally put an end to Rick's reanimated state. To me, it was like ending an era. The life of a good man who only ever wanted to protect the people he loves has to end here; so tragically. So befitting of a man as great as Rick Grimes was. Behind me, I can hear Carl break out into sobs again. Hear his knees slap the cold earth as he falls and allows gravity to catch him. My resolve weakens, hearing this, but I press on regardless. The Rick-thing hisses at me as I approach, turning its cold, dead gaze to me as I raise my sword above my head. Its just too much. I feel my hand trembling, my teeth grit hard together as a fresh batch of hot tears spill down my cheeks.
"You really are a gentle kid."
He'd said that about me.
And now, with those words touching my head, it is almost as though Rick's tormented spirit is coming back to remind me that I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this. But I have to do it. I have to do it for Carl. For Judith. Neither one of them could ever deal with knowing their father's body will roam for eternity as a rotting, man-eating corpse. But most of all, I have to do it because I made a promise.
I promised you...!
And so, with one final sob of anguish, I swing down, metal connecting with flesh. Blood and brain matter erupts from the wound, but the deed is done. The walker falls. Rick Grimes is finally no more.
My sword clatters uselessly out of my hand to the soft earth beneath me. I can finally free myself. Free the emotions I've been fighting. A loud, childish sob escapes my throat, and then I'm clumsily lumbering back towards Carl. There, I collapse in front of him, pulling his own crying form into a tight hug. To my surprise, he doesn't pull away from me, instead throwing his own arms around me. And there, in that moment, together as a couple and as a family, Carl and I cry our hearts out in each others arms for the man who was a father to him and like a father to me. It won't be long now.
The group will come for us soon.
####
I don't think I can ever recall a time seeing the group in this much distress.
Glenn had been the one to discover Carl and I huddled together, bawling on a field of blood and corpses. It hadn't taken him long to discover Rick's remains laying not to far from us. Now were are back on the road, gathered together outside the bus. Rick's body has been wrapped and is sitting at the very back of the bus used to transport us to Negan's base. Around us, the sounds of sobs rise through those who have survived the first of many battles against Negan. None cry harder, however, than the members of our own group. Seeing Daryl Dixon, a man of almost unlimited fortitude, break down like a child having lost his mother is almost too much to bear. Of course, Michonne too mourns, but she doesn't seem to express it as openly as myself and the others. I don't think she does this purposely. I think she wants to show it. To show just how much losing Rick Grimes meant to her, but she is bound to her sense of obligation; staying strong for Carl and I. To that end, she has wrapped one of her arms around each of us, pulling us close to her as though her motherly instincts compel her to shelter us from our pain.
It is through this anvil of grief that I finally allow myself to admit what my heart has always known:
I love Michonne.
I don't love her the same way I love Carl, obviously, but I love her regardless. As family. As a friend. As a mentor. Ever since I met her, in her own little way, she has gone out of her way to help me, a fellow outcast, feel part of this group and now, to feel like I have someone who's always there for me. For a fleeting instant, I imagine what it would be like to lose her too.
What if she's next?
I don't want to live in a reality that encompasses that.
As much as I cling to her, though, I cling tighter to Carl. My hand is gripping his, and his mine, as hard as I possibly can without hurting him. I cannot and will not let go of him. I know I cannot ease the pain of loss he is experiencing right now. I know that I cannot calm the raging storm ravaging his heart. But he will know that I am right here for him; that I'm not going anywhere. The group is ghostly silent for a good time as we all mourn the loss of our great leader and an even greater man. Its Jesus who finally wipes away his own tears and decides to speak up about our current situation.
"So," he mumbles. "What do we do now? Negan will make his next move soon."
"We have to go back and come up with a new plan." Maggie declares. "We have too many wounded. We can't sustain another attack."
"No!" a visibly pained Abraham protests. "Let him get away now and h- hnngh! He could attack the settlement."
"We don't even know where he went." Glenn argues, concurring with his wife. "You're hurt, so is Garret and several of the others. We'd be playing right into his hand."
I wince when he says Garret's name. Garret Kyle has changed a lot since the sour day that I first met him. Now a twenty-year old man, whereas I met him when he was between fifteen and sixteen, Garret is a stocky, short-haired young man, with a tan complexion and a much more freckled face than Carl. Under normal circumstances, I'd consider Garret to be a fairly handsome young man, but there is just one problem. Garret is the same person who beat Carl's head against the concrete, back when we first arrived in Alexandria, because he found Carl to be a "faggot". Of course, as you may imagine, that didn't go over well with me, and when I got done with Garret, he had a fractured cheek bone and a broken nose. Ever since then, Garret has avoided me like the Black Death, and I have left him similarly alone. Even his name causes me to cringe. Needless to say, under the circumstances, I'm not too sympathetic that he's been injured, though I try not to let my personal grudge against him cause me to wish him too much ill.
The incessant bickering between Jesus, Maggie, Abraham, and Glenn goes on for several moments until it is made worse when Ezekiel jumps into the middle. This quickly serves as grounds for more to join in, until their voices mesh together in a noise so terrible, I can only describe it as the sound of vultures fighting among themselves over a fresh carcass. In the meantime, Carl remains silent, his gaze fixated on the concrete at his feet, but I can tell just by looking at him that his mind isn't in the present. Its distant, perhaps deep within his memories, or perhaps he is drowning out everything. His hand-in-mine has gone noticeably limp. Closer still, Michonne, like me, seems visibly irritated by the bickering of the others. Regardless, Michonne is a woman who knows how to hold her tongue, as has resorted to regarding them with an icy glare as she continues to listen to both sides argue about a course of action. The grief swelling in my heart, combined with an infinite concern for Carl's well-being, boils into a feverish rage as the other members of the group argue among themselves.
Of all the times to fight, they pick now?!
My thoughts are like hot cinders, scorching my brain with intense anger.
As voices among the group continue to rise, so too does my anger, and finally, I reach my boiling point. Unable to listen to this any longer.
"ENOUGH!" I bark loudly, bringing all voices to a sudden halt.
My voice is loud and piercing enough that I manage to startle Michonne and even bring Carl out of his daze. Both regard me with surprise and bewilderment, while the rest of the group is mixed with confusion and intrigue.
"You lot are loud enough to draw every walker in the fucking county!" This is new. I'm not used to addressing the group at all, much less with so much rage in my chest. But I continue on regardless. I need to say this. "Our course of action will never be decided upon with you lot acting like a bunch of fucking children! We're all hurting. We're all grieving in one way or another. So calm down, buck up, and talk to each other like adults."
Carl looks as though he has stepped into an alternate reality.
To him, I imagine, he still sees me as the shy teenager (and even man) I've been around the group as a whole since I first met them. I'd always hated addressing large groups of people, and putting me on the spot in such situations used to be one of Carl's favorite things to do. Clearly, though, this time the circumstances are different. A man, our former leader, is dead and no amount of fighting among ourselves is going to bring him back or make things right. That is the profound impact Rick's death has left on the group. The moment he's absent - really truly absent - the group descends into bickering and infighting. Its not something he'd ever want for the group and certainly not something he'd stand by and allow. Well, neither will I.
"Everyone take a step back." I continue, this time calmer. "Calm down and try this again."
I didn't expect anyone to actually listen to what I had to say, but, to my utter shock and amazement, they do. Looking quite ashamed of themselves, Maggie and Glenn take a step back to talk to one another privately, while Abraham goes silent to tend to his wounds. Both Jesus and Ezekiel, the closest things to leaders we still have, convene quietly among themselves as well. The rest of the group is reduced to low whispers about the argument and recent events and I go back to tending to Carl. I think that'll be it. That the group will take a moment to talk and then go back to debating our next move. Instead, Daryl Dixon, who until this point, had remained entire silent, approaches and takes me by the shoulder, motioning to the side as an indication that he wishes to speak to me. With a reluctant look towards Carl, I accept his invitation and walk away towards the back of the bus, where no one else was gathered.
"Sorry about the outburst." I tell him once we're alone, thinking that is the reason he pulled me aside. "I let my anger get the best of me."
"Don't be." the soft spoken redneck replies. "Had to be said."
I give him a silent nod.
"What did you want to talk about?"
"Nothin' in particular." he replies. "Jus' seein' how you're holdin' up."
"Same as you, I'd imagine." I respond after a deep sigh. "I...- I just...- I just can't believe he's gone."
I have to fight tears again.
Daryl Dixon has a presence about him that none in the group can emulate. While others, like Carol and Michonne, make me feel as though I can show them any anguish I may feel, Daryl makes me want to be an iron wall. A callous soldier that doesn't reveal his inner thoughts or emotions. Its ironic when Daryl himself dispels this by putting a strong hand of reassurance on my shoulder, glancing at me with that hardened expression he's become so well-known among the others for. He's good at hiding his own anguish, but I can see the stress lines chiseled into his face. Rick and Daryl were like brothers, so I know he's feeling it, just as I am.
"He was proud of you." Daryl eventually says. "Always grateful for what you've done for Carl."
That certainly doesn't help my emotional state of mind.
Now I'm biting down on my lower lip to keep the tears from forming. I risk a glance back at Carl. I can see him with Michonne and, from the looks of it, she is having a similar heart-to-heart with him. Divide-and-conquer is it? Carl doesn't look much better than when I left him. His face is still ghostly pale, his eyes still sunken with sadness and grief.
"How do I tell her?" I suddenly blurt out, a new thought coming to my mind as I return my focus to Daryl. "Judith? She... She's only three, but she'll understand that something is missing. Its her dad for Christ's sake."
Daryl nods understandingly, "Gotta tell her the truth." he replies simply. "You 'in Carl are the only family she has left."
Now that is a daunting reality right there.
And then it hits me: its now up to Carl and I to raise his baby sister. Absent of Rick and Lori, we're the next of kin, so the duty falls on us to bring her up in this godforsaken world. As if sensing my line of thought, Daryl is quick to respond;
"You'll have help." he reassures me. "I'll help. Michonne'll help. Ya know Carol will. That's how this works. Family."
Family.
After all this, we're all still family. I'd nearly lost sight of that.
"He was always about lookin' on the bright side, Rick was." I say. "Same with Mich. But these days? The bright side is looking pretty fucking dull."
Daryl feigns a smirk at that.
"We have 'im on the run." the redneck mentions.
"We need to keep him that way." I reply sternly. "Until we get the bastard."
Daryl waits patiently. The redneck is severely underestimated by the other members of the community. Known for his brawn rather than for his brains, Daryl isn't often seen as an insightful man, though I know him differently. He's waiting because he knows I have more to say. And more to say, I certainly do.
"But," I go on. "Our wounded need doctors. We have to get them back."
Daryl is silent for a moment. Behind me, I hear the murmurs of the group start back up again. Once more they're convening to decide our next course of action. This time, at the very least, they sound more calm and collected. Daryl rises suddenly, delivering an affectionate pat to my shoulder before starting off towards the others. Before getting halfway there, he turns to say something.
"I'll take a group out to track 'em and keep on their asses." he says over his shoulder. "You take Carl and the others back to recoup."
Its times like this when I'm glad Daryl Dixon is still around.
Trusting his plan of action, I rise to rejoin my family on the long trek back home.
####
We buried Rick's body in Alexandria late that evening.
To say that it was a tearful ceremony would be the understatement of the century. Worst still was having to break the news to Judith. The infant Grimes was still not old enough to understand the concept of death, but when she learned that her "daddy" wouldn't be coming back home anymore, the child was heartbroken, which only turned Carl and I into further basket cases. That night, all three of us - Michonne, Carl, and I - help each other put Judith to bed. It was no easy task. She kept crying out for her daddy, I suppose thinking that if she cried loudly enough, he'd come out of nowhere and comfort her like he always did. That incident alone makes going to bed difficult on a level I never imagined. In the aftermath, in nothing but a pair of pajama pants, I sit on the edge of the mattress, face in my hands while Carl showers in the room across the hall. My body screams from the day's exertion and my mind begs for sleep, even though I know I can't possibly think of sleep at the moment. I don't hear Carl enter the room, my first evidence of his presence being his cold, yet rough hands pressing down on either side of my neck on my sore shoulders. He doesn't say anything, nor do I, but the feelings that pass through me from just that touch tells me enough. After several minutes more like that, I finally break the ice.
"Do you remember," I begin. "What I told you when we were in that godforsaken boxcar in Terminus?"
Carl sighs heavily behind me, his strong hands kneading the aching muscles in my neck and shoulders.
"No." he admits at last. "Remind me."
"I said," I continue, allowing my mind to dip three years into the past to recall the words. "I'm here. You're not alone. You're never alone." Shifting backwards, turning just enough to allow me to see his face, I reach behind me, sliding his hand off of my shoulder so that I can take it into my own hand; making sure to graze the metal ring on his ring finger as I do. Its a symbolic act, but one I know he registers. "That's still true today, you know?" I go on. "I know you, Carl. Don't take this and just let it fester inside of you. I'm here, for what its worth."
For a good long moment, Carl Grimes is silent; his only response being the tightening of his grip on my hand. Several minutes later he shifts, letting go of my hand, which he then uses to wrap me into a hug from behind. I feel his chest up against my bare back, feel his heartbeat pounding at a slightly heightened rhythm. For many minutes more we stay that way, neither of us talking to the other. For an instant, I think that is how he'll stay. Not talking to me about what's happened until we both grow tired and go to sleep, but he surprises me when his voice again pierces the stale air.
"It hurts, Tanner." his voice trembles with renewed emotion.
I reach up and rest my hands against his, which hang around my neck, refusing to release me from his embrace.
"I know, Carl." I reply as a whisper. "I know."
"What are we going to do?"
"Same thing we've always done." I reply surely. "Survive. We'll take care of Judith, make sure she grows up knowing who her parents were, and we'll help keep our group - our family - together, just like he'd have wanted."
I feel two hot tears sting my shoulder and I know he's started crying again. He's just too proud to say it.
"He'll attack here next." Carl continues. "Negan. You know he'll come here next."
I nod.
Of course I know. Even with Daryl and the others looking, I know he'll be coming.
"That's why we have to be ready." I reply. "We have to stop him at all costs. We can't let him take this place from us too."
"Yeah..."
"Let's get some sleep." I tell him, both of us already shifting to cuddle in the others arms beneath the comfort of our sheets. "Tomorrow... is round two."
And so it is with a heavy heart that I close my eyes, clutching Carl tightly in an embrace, and fall asleep to hopes that someday, in the future, we can live without this pervasive fear hanging over our heads. This sorrowful life...
A/N: A small interlude chapter before the second battle is to begin. It is clear that Rick's loss will have a profound affect on the group for the rest of this story and beyond, but with a battle on the horizon, how will they adapt to fighting an enemy like Negan without Rick's leadership? As a prelude to the next chapter, new leaders will rise up, heroes be born, and loss be felt as the battle against Negan reaches fever pitch. During the last story, I remember a whole bunch of requests asking that Daryl and Tanner be shown interacting more often, so I hope the scene between the two of them was something memorable and served to illustrate the bond they've grown over the past couple of years. Speaking of This Cruel Reality, how many of my readers from the first story picked up Garret's cameo? I felt compelled to show that he's still around, for the moment. Though he won't really become an important player, it was nice for me to be able to find another way to tie this story back into the first one! As always, I hope you all enjoyed, feel free to leave comments and favorite! Its much appreciated! :)
Now for the reviews:
LastationLover5000: Holy awesome review! You make a true observation ^^ The characters in this story would certainly have a field day kicking my ass, if they were real, for all the shit I've put them through. I'd like to think, however, that all the trials and tribulations they've been through make them come across as more human. I'm glad you think Tanner and Carl are adorable. I personally have grown to love the relationship they've formed. It always has me wishing Carl would find himself someone in the show that would love and care for him like that and vice versa. I'm glad you picked up on Negan's humor. For being a piece of shit, he certainly is funny from time to time, especially in the comics. Thank you for your review, friend :) Glad you had a chance to check this story out at last hahaha
vmbaby: Yes, the gap left by Rick's role in the community will certainly be felt. From this chapter, it seems that Carl and Tanner will end up raising Judith together, but certainly the issue of who will lead Alexandria in the wake of his loss has to be addressed. Could Tanner rise up and fill that gap? Anything is possible, but there are too many variables right now to say for certain. Of course, I know what will happen, but I can't spoil it for you guys :) Suffice it to say that this issue will be explored. Lastly, yes, it certainly seems Negan will use Rick's death for some ulterior motive and the cause responsible for his death has yet to be identified, so there's that to deal with soon. More answers will surface in the next chapter so stay tuned! Thanks for the comment! :)
thebomb. com: Thank you so much! :D It is true: no one is safe. Absolutely no one. Just like in the show and comics, I'm of the mindset that if the plot allows for them to be killed, I'll kill them, and Rick finally met that criteria!
Guest: I've never read a fanfic that kills Rick off either. Not to say that killing Rick off is a sign of a good fanfic, though. I love me some Rick Grimes. It just became necessary for the plot and I'm not one who is above killing off even my favorite characters. As long as they still have a role to play in my story, they'll remain alive, but the second they don't, they're fair game. Thanks for the comment!
Thank you all again for the continued support and readership! You guys are the best!
Until the next one!
Later!