Everyone experiences a moment in life where their entire foundation shifts beneath them, where something they know to be an absolute certainty turns out to be nothing more than a fabrication. It's often the point where priorities rearrange, something once coveted is proven useless, and the path forward is revealed with crystal clarity. For Edwin, being adopted into his wife's family was one such shift. In the Jenners, Edwin found a family he adored.
"You want to take my name?"
The surprise in his fiancée's voice made Edwin frown.
"Oh, don't give me that look," Candace poked him with her toe, her eyes half-lidded. She'd been up in the middle of the night pacing, so they threw on an old show and settled down to watch, talking through the newest complications at work in between spacing out to the familiar twists and turns of a drama they had both seen before.
"Why is it a big deal?" Edwin demanded, grabbing her foot and massaging his fingers into the sole. She groaned in satisfaction, flopping onto the bed and closing her eyes as she hummed in pleasure.
"It's not," Candace purred, stretching and smiling in contentment. "But you know most men don't want to."
"Nothing special about my name," Edwin grunted. "Your name means something, Candace."
"Well, I wasn't gonna change it," she said with a dry look.
"I know," Edwin agreed. "But with your permission, I'd like to change mine."
On the day of their wedding, Edwin with a surname of no consequence or value became Edwin Jenner. Here in the golden grass of Hershel Greene's fields, his skin tight with sunburn, and the trembling weight of a skinny child cradled in his arms, Edwin Jenner's world shifts again.
"Found her out in some abandoned ruins," Daryl explains as he climbs over the fence.
"Thank you," Edwin manages to gasp, sitting up shakily. "Thank you, thank you—"
"Stop," the hunter grunts, offering Edwin a hand. He lets the other man help him stand, refusing to let go of Mouse who has wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
"How is she?" Dale demands as he reaches them. The old man bends over, panting for breath.
"She's fine," Daryl snaps, already moving forward to lead the way. "Come on, let's get her up to the house, have Hershel take a look."
They're halfway across the field when they hear shouting. Hershel's family is making their way towards their home, Rick and Shane at their heels.
"The hell happened?" Daryl demands. He glances to the barn then rolls his eyes. "Nevermind."
"Unbelievable," Dale mutters, shaking his head with disgust. "This didn't need to happen."
Edwin decides to keep his opinion to himself because the truth is he's relieved the barn has been emptied out. He doesn't care if they get kicked out, doesn't care if Hershel still thinks those monsters were alive. The only thing that matters to him is cradled against his chest.
Both groups have nearly reached the main house by the time anyone notices them. Shane stops, staring at Edwin in disbelief. Rick notices next, and his hand comes up to his mouth, eyes widening in amazement.
"She's…" Rick's voice cracks, relief overwhelming him as tears glisten in his eyes. "Oh, my God…"
Hershel's family is torn with grief, their eyes red and puffy. Beth stands curled against her father's side, Maggie's arm wrapped around her shoulders. Jimmy, Patricia, Otis and Glenn are close behind, shielding the trio from Rick and Shane. They all come to a halt, looking to Edwin with varying expressions of disbelief and shock.
"Is she…" Hershel's voice creaks, the despair in his face settling instead into a flat mask of professionalism.
"Just dehydrated, I figure," Daryl speaks up. He's still heading for the house. "Hurry up already. Jesus, we've got a kid to take care of."
The moments that follow are a flurry of motion and voices. Edwin refuses to put Mouse down, not until they make it into the Greenes' home. He has to when they enter that same bedroom where Sophia took her last breath to lay Mouse out on clean sheets and allow Patricia and Hershel to take her blood pressure and check her for injuries. Still, he stays right there clutching her hand, telling her it's okay, you're safe, I'm here.
"She's in remarkably good condition, all things considered," Hershel pronounces at last. He put Mouse on fluids, before she passed out from exhaustion. "She must have had shelter of some sort. I expect she'd be in much worse condition if she didn't."
Although her cheeks are sunken, the skin beneath her eyes purpled with bruising, and she never stops shivering even under the large pile of blankets, Hershel is correct. Save for a few scrapes and bruises, she's practically unharmed.
"Found her out in that abandoned farmhouse Otis checked the first day," Daryl chimes in, hovering in the doorway. "She might've found it after, or been wanderin' around when they passed through." He shrugs. "Get a few meals in her, she'll be right as rain."
"Shockingly enough, that seems to be the case," Hershel states stiffly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have things to attend to."
The older man slips out past Daryl, who wanders away from the open door, leaving Patricia and Edwin alone.
"It's a miracle, her making it out there so long," Patricia says hoarsely. She strokes a hand lightly over Mouse's cheek. "We'll get her a bath and some broth when she wakes up." She straightens up, her gaze turning to the window that looks out over the yard. "I need to go help the others with the bodies."
"Thank you," Edwin manages. He hasn't stopped crying since he settled beside the bed.
"I'm just glad she's still with us."
Edwin looks to the window, spotting several people digging graves. The new ones are in a line stretching out beneath the gorgeous apple tree they buried Sophia under. Mouse is still alive, unlike Hershel's wife, his step-son, friends and other family.
Patricia leaves, but they aren't alone for long. When Rick approaches, he hesitates by the door, his eyes reddened and shadowed by stress.
"How is she?" The cop asks.
Edwin frowns, unable to bring himself to look Rick in the eye. "She's sleeping. Hershel thinks she'll make a full recovery."
Rick steps forward, looking her over closely. His lips twitch into a faint smile, swiftly chased away with sadness lined by guilt. Eventually Rick clears his throat, steeling himself to speak up.
"Did Daryl say where he found her?" There's no need to ask who it was that brought Mouse back, the hunter has been the only one staying on task for days.
"The farmhouse," Edwin states, voice as flat as he can make it. "Um— Some abandoned one. Otis checked it, but he must have missed her."
"Oh, I thought-" Rick stops and sighs, grimacing at the ground. "I suppose it doesn't matter now."
He waits, hovering by the bed with that guilt ridden look, but Edwin can't bring himself to respond. He doesn't know what benediction the man is seeking, but there isn't enough charity left in Edwin to offer it. Reasonable or not, he's still too angry to even look at him. By the time Rick leaves, neither has said another word.
He loses track of the passage of time. He's too absorbed in every little breath Mouse takes. The world shifts in the progress the gravediggers make, each hole getting deeper and the piles beside them taller.
"Is she still sleeping?"
Carol's voice is soft, a trace of hesitation in her words. When Edwin looks up, he finds her standing in the doorway, her expression uncertain.
"Yeah," he grins, waving towards the chair on the other side of the bed. "Yeah she's- I can't imagine she slept well the past few days."
Carol approaches carefully, glancing over Mouse. "She was so little before," she leans forward, brushing a few strands of hair off her forehead. "She's practically skin and bone now."
"She never ate enough," Edwin shares, rubbing his thumb lightly against her pulse. "Even in the CDC, every time we sat down to eat it was like asking her to do some chore she couldn't stand."
"Picky eater?" Carol chuckles.
"Pickiest I've ever seen," Edwin grins.
They sit quietly for a time, watching her breathe. When Carol sniffles, Edwin looks up in alarm.
"I'm sorry," Carol whispers, wiping at her eyes. "I just wonder when they were separated. Maybe— Maybe if they'd stayed together then my daughter might have…" She cuts herself off, brushing away more tears.
Edwin looks down, old pain raking across his heart. If only he'd told Charlotte to be more careful. If only he'd been there that day, instead of at work. If only.
"We try our best, with the time that we have." He croaks, swallowing hard to clear his throat. "It's— It's all we can do, Carol. We try our best, then time runs out."
It's silent for a while, before she speaks with a wet voice. "You're right. We tried, didn't we? It wasn't enough for them but…"
"We'll just keep trying," he whispers back.
After a moment, Carol stands, coming around the bed and pulling him into a hug. She presses his cheek to her shoulder, resting her chin on top of his head.
"The others don't get it, except maybe Andrea," Carol says at last, letting him go and resting a hand on his shoulder. "If she'd died the night my husband did, I'd have stayed with Jacqui." Her gaze comes to rest on Mouse, expression tender. "But there are still people here to live for."
Edwin watches the funeral through the window. The grieving family returns to their home, though only Patricia disturbs Edwin to ask if Mouse has woken up. Afterwards, he's left to his own devices, and he's more than happy for it to remain that way.
He's starting to nod off himself when a loud clatter from the kitchen makes him jump. He straightens up, frowning when he hears Maggie crying out in fear.
He hurries to the door, checking the hall, and looking back to Mouse worriedly. After assuring himself she's still fast asleep, he shuts the door behind him and follows the alarmed voices.
Maggie and Glenn are hovering over Beth, who lays unconscious on the kitchen floor. He takes only long enough to assure himself the youngest Greene is still breathing, before stepping forward to offer whatever help he can.
"What happened?" He crouches beside her, forcing himself to ignore the wary look Glenn shoots him. Maggie, however, is too frantic to hold onto any grudge.
"I— I don't know," she whimpers, cradling her sister's head in her palm. "We— We need Dad, someone—"
"I'll go find him," Glenn scrambles up, running from the room on light feet.
"Did she hit her head when she fell?" Edwin looks around the room, trying to spot the stain of blood.
"I don't think so," Maggie shakes her head. "She just— She was just doing dishes, and she collapsed, and I don't— I—"
"Maggie," Edwin firms his voice, drawing on a well of professionalism he didn't realize he still had. "Beth is okay. She's breathing, see?" He grabs the older sister's hand and brings her palm close to Beth's lips so she can feel the passage of air. "I can feel her pulse, and those are the two most important things."
Maggie nods, taking several deep breaths. "Can we, can we move her?" She looks up at him, her lips trembling. "I don't— She shouldn't have to— to just lay here on the floor."
Edwin hesitates, but there's no real reason to think this is a spinal injury. After a moment's consideration, he nods. He and Maggie lift Beth between them, though Edwin tries to do all the work at first.
"Stop it," Maggie snaps, narrowing her eyes. "Don't think I haven't noticed you half-starving yourself this past week. Last thing my sister needs is to be dropped by a man too damn stubborn to accept he needs a little help."
Beth's room is decorated with lacy curtains, the walls painted in pastel yellows and pinks. He eases her onto the bed, the cover a quilted top decorated with various farm animals and scenery.
Once the younger sister is settled, Maggie sits down on the bed beside her. Edwin offers to wait downstairs for Hershel, and she agrees, her eyes fixed on Beth's face.
He checks on Mouse again, then waits in the doorway of her room so she'll still be able to see him if she wakes. He doesn't have to wait long, Rick leads the way into the house with Glenn close behind.
"Jenner," Rick starts. "Have you seen—"
"No," Glenn interrupts. "No, he was there in the kitchen with us!"
"God damn it," Rick mutters. He darts past Edwin further into the house, taking the stairs to the second story two at a time.
"We took Beth upstairs," Edwin tells Glenn, who gives him a nod before following Rick.
Soon three more come running up to the house, Otis, Patricia and Shane. Edwin directs them upstairs as well, and is left to wait and see what unfolds. He can hear the group talking but only catches the occasional word here and there.
A hoarse sob draws his attention. He turns, his eyes widening when he spots Mouse shifting under her covers. She tries to sit up, fumbling at the line taped to the inside of her arm.
"No, no!" He rushes forward, falling to his knees and catching her hand before she can rip it free. "Don't, Sweetie. You're okay, I'm here. Hey, Mousey?"
She blinks at him, breathing hard and trembling. After a moment, her vision clears, and she slumps down onto the pillows, sniffling hard.
"Hey, there." Warmth blooms in his chest. He pets her hair, eyes burning with tears despite the smile splitting his face.
"H-Hey…" Her voice is barely more than a whisper, even those small motions making the cracks in her lips tug and bleed.
"Want something to drink?" He grabs the pitcher beside them before she can respond, pouring a glass of water and holding it out. She grips the glass with clumsy fingers, and he holds it steady for her as she takes deep gulps. She doesn't stop until the water is gone, then collapses back into the pillows.
"S-So…" Her voice trails off, and with a grimace she reaches up to paw at her throat. Helpless frustration twists her face, tears glistening in her eyes.
"It's okay," he reassures her, catching her hand before she can dig at her skin with her jagged nails. She already bears the marks of self-injury, scabbed over and raw across her stomach, neck, wrists and arms. "Just take your time," he insists, smiling down at her. "There isn't any rush."
She shakes her head hard, looking around like she's trying to find something. He scans the bed, until his gaze lands on that ragged doll with yarn for hair. Sophia's doll.
His heart sinks. He swallows, reluctantly reaching for the doll where it sits at the end of the bed. He passes it to Mouse, biting his lip before he manages to ask, "Is this what you wanted?"
She takes the doll but shakes her head, patting it urgently and waving her hand in a circle. He doesn't want to know what she means, but she couldn't be more clear unless she said the words out loud.
"She…" He catches Mouse's hands and swallows hard. "Mouse, I…"
She squeezes his hand hard, tugging until he looks up. The look in her eyes is knowing, tears spilling down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry…" He whispers, clutching her hand to his mouth. He takes a steadying breath, but every time he closes his eyes, all he sees are two little girls, both blonde and blue-eyed, who never even had a chance to live.
The sound of people arguing as they descend the stairs draws Edwin's gaze. He swallows, kisses her hand again and says, "I'll be right back." He registers the flicker of fear in her face, but she nods once more, hugging Sophia's doll against her stomach.
In the living room, Rick, Shane and Otis stand in a loose circle. They aren't loud, though their voices carry easily enough.
"His car is missing," Otis says with a sigh. "I didn't think he would do something like this, he just said he wanted space. I never thought—"
"Look, we have a destination," Rick cuts him off. "Maggie thinks he headed up to Hatlin's, I can just take Glenn—"
"Look," Shane rubs his hand over his face. "I just— I don't think any more of us need to be off the farm, okay?"
Rick shakes his head. "Otis? Can you give us a minute?"
"Course," Otis offers. "Should go check up on Beth anyways." He hesitates then adds, "I'll head into town if no one else will, it's just—"
"No," Rick cuts him off firmly. "You're the only person here with any medical experience aside from Patricia. We can't afford to have anyone else with those skills off property."
Edwin shifts back from the door, sensing the two cops' desire for privacy, but they aren't being quiet. Otis' footsteps retreat back upstairs as the pair continue to argue.
"I know you're right, Shane," Rick says after a moment. "But we need Hershel for the baby, you know we do."
Baby? This is the first Edwin has heard anything about that. He winces when he spots the look of curiosity on Mouse's face, chasing away the grief. She blinks up at him as he sits beside her, placing a finger over his own lips.
"Yeah," Shane takes a long time to agree, but he does in the end. "Yeah, okay. You and me can head into town, bring Hershel back."
"I think Glenn and I should go," Rick responds. "Look, I want you at my back, but Hershel's already pissed enough as it is."
"I'd say sorry…" Shane trails off, his tone sardonic.
"But you'd be a liar if you did, I know," Rick responds, his voice exhausted and fond in the same breath.
"You said it, man," Shane chuckles softly. It's silent for a moment before Shane adds in a strained tone. "I can't let you just go, Rick."
"Shane, we already discussed why—"
"No, no I can't let you just go," Shane repeats. "I'm coming. I'll wait in the damn car, alright? You take Glenn into the bar, get the old man back. I'll— I'll hold him down if I have to. I can be the bad guy, okay? But I can't just…"
The silence stretches, and Edwin nearly misses the last words Shane speaks.
"I can't lose you again."
It's mid-afternoon when Rick, Shane and Glenn set out towards town. No one is thrilled with the arrangement, which Edwin is pretty sure means that it's a good compromise. There's some saying he can't quite remember along those lines.
Patricia helps him get Mouse cleaned up, although all three of them have to cram into the little downstairs bathroom to make it happen. Mouse refuses to let him out of her sight, lips trembling and tears dripping any time the suggestion gets made. Still, between them, they manage to get her washed and dressed in ill-fitting clothing that Carol brought to the house in a box. Mouse bursts into tears, clearly recognizing some of the clothes, but although Sophia was taller, no one else's clothing comes close to fitting. Once they get her to drink a thin broth made from chicken base and finely chopped vegetables, Mouse looks like one of those horror stories that get posted to raise awareness on malnourishment rather than on death's door.
He's expecting her to want more rest, but the second he settles her back onto the bed, her gaze is fixed to the window, eyes focused on the line of graves under the apple tree.
"Do you…" Edwin clears his throat, his eyes burning.
She squeezes Sophia's doll, then looks over to him. She taps it, then points to the window. He nods, blinking away tears. She stares out the window for a long time before finally nodding her head. He takes her hand, but she is clearly determined to walk all on her own.
Lori and Carol are outside doing laundry and pause as they make their way slowly down the front porch steps. Mouse looks around, blinking furiously and sometimes squeezing her eyes shut as though it hurts to stare at anything for too long. Edwin spots T-Dog up on top of Dale's RV keeping watch, and the man waves to them with a broad grin.
"Should she be out of bed?" Lori asks as she goes back to hanging up a damp shirt. Her tone is carefully flat.
"Hershel said she was just dehydrated," he answers. "If she's up to it, there isn't any reason she shouldn't be moving about."
"She looks better," Carol says, smiling at Mouse. The girl meets her gaze for a moment, before her expression twists with sadness. She drops her head and sniffles hard.
"We're going down to the apple tree," Edwin explains, stroking down Mouse's hair and letting her hide her face against his hip.
"You told her?" Lori stops what she's doing, looking up at him incredulously. "That couldn't have waited?"
"I wasn't going to hide it," Edwin's back straightens as anger stirs in his chest. This isn't new, being the more involved parent as a man came with some interesting side-effects, namely constant praise for being involved at all, alongside critique of every parenting choice he ever made.
"She just got here," Lori glares at him outright. "Shouldn't she have gotten one night to recover?"
"She asked," Edwin snaps. "And I don't make it a habit to lie to my children."
Lori shakes her head, refusing to look at him as she returns to her chores. Edwin tugs on Mouse's hand to lead her on, but Mouse doesn't move. To his surprise, she pulls free of his grip, visibly shaking as she walks towards the two women.
All three adults pause to stare as Mouse comes to a stop in front of Carol. She sniffles again, then holds out Sophia's doll.
"Oh," Carol's voice catches, her eyes widening. "Oh, I— Sweetie, you don't—" She stops, breathing hard and squeezing her eyes shut. After a moment, she kneels down, pressing the doll back into Mouse's arms and offering her a shaky smile.
"If my daughter wanted you to have it, I think— I think it should stay with you." Carol squeezes Mouse's hand, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
Mouse nods slowly before stepping forward to offer Carol a short hug. Both child and grieving mother are tense, and Mouse comes running back to Edwin's side soon after. Carol wipes at her eyes as they walk away.
They settle down in the shade of the apple tree, just in front of the packed earth of Sophia's little wooden cross. Her name is carved into the wood, and wilted petals of the white Cherokee Rose are tucked up against the frame. Mouse cuddles against his side, fiddling with the doll in her lap. She sucks on her lip hard, opens her mouth, and scowls in frustration.
"Just take it slow," Edwin tells her, resting his palm at the back of her neck. He massages his fingers into taught muscle, and she melts against his side.
It takes Mouse a long time to speak, and when she finally does, her voice is hoarse, a barely present whisper in danger of being carried away by the slightest of breezes.
"I had a rabbit…" She murmurs. "Not— Not a real one. Sn-Snuggle Bunny. I lost him when we crashed."
Edwin holds his breath, his eyes welling with tears. He forces himself to continue massaging her neck and stays silent, allowing Mouse's quiet voice to fill the air.
"Mom got hurt," she says, voice flat and brittle. "Her leg. Sh-She said we had to go, so we walked, then we ran, but she couldn't really, but she said to run, so I did. I did and I—"
Edwin hugs her close. He lets her cry against his side, kisses her hair and says the only words that he can think to say. "I'm here, Mousey, I'm here." He murmurs them again and again, because they aren't okay, and it hurts and all he can do is hold her and let her grieve.
"I tr-tried to stay together!" Mouse wails, leaning back and for a rare moment looking right into his eyes. "I tried! I tried but sh-she said she had to g-go and that I had to stay and th-that that was how we'd both make it, but she's gone and I sh-should've…"
"Mouse, baby," he pets her cheek, brushing away tears. "Are you talking about Sophia?"
She nods her head, whimpering and shaking in his arms. Edwin swallows hard. He knows the others want to know what happened, but none of it matters to him. He just wants Mouse to know this isn't her fault, none of it.
"Mouse, if Sophia thought you two should separate, then you did right to listen to her." She shakes her head, gasping against his chest and crying harder.
"Listen to me," he tells her firmly. "I told you to stay with Sophia, because at the time it seemed right. You tried, but if Sophia believed you needed to separate, she was a smart girl. This isn't your fault. Not any of it."
He lets her cry herself out, and even when her sobbing stops, he doesn't let go. Mouse makes no move to get up, so Edwin simply adjusts his legs into a more comfortable position, rubbing her back through one of Sophia's old cardigans. They sit in silence, something that often occurred back in the CDC. He wishes they'd never left, but that isn't quite right. He doesn't want to die, not with Mouse here in his arms. He just wants to be there instead of here, deep underground and safe.
The crunch of grass draws his gaze towards the main house to a small figure making his way across the yard. Lori and Carol finished the laundry some time ago, the lines hung with damp clothes and sheets.
Carl comes to a stop about ten feet away, shifting nervously.
"You don't have to stay standing," Edwin pats the grass beside them. "Come sit down."
The boy nods, scuffing his feet and glancing towards Sophia's grave. He swallows visibly, then approaches, settling across from Edwin and Mouse.
"Um," Carl glances at Mouse, his discomfort obvious. "I know we haven't really talked— I mean you don't talk so…" He winces, reaching up to adjust his dad's hat. Edwin isn't sure when he received it, but now that he thinks about it, he doesn't think he's seen Rick wearing it since the highway.
"I dunno if you can like, read and write or whatever," Carl finally states. "But I found a notepad and a pen. I thought you should have it."
The kid pulls them out of his back pocket, holding them out to Mouse. Edwin is about to explain that selective mutism isn't that simple, but Mouse reaches forward and takes the pad before he can say a word.
He watches with held breath as she flips the pad open to the first page. She hesitates for a long moment, pen posed over the paper. He can feel her trembling. Then she presses it down and writes, 'Thank you,' in bold large letters. She holds the pad up so Carl can see, and the boy grins.
"It's nothing," he demurs, but the pleased expression on his face says otherwise. "Hey so, what's your real name?"
Edwin doesn't dare to move a muscle, his gaze fixed on Mouse. She sits there motionless, her expression pinched. She takes several deep breaths, then shakes her head, hurriedly writing her next message down. When she holds it out for them to read, chills race down his arms.
'I'm Mouse. I don't want to be anyone else.'
Edwin's breath hitches in his chest, his vision blurring with tears. The children look up at him in alarm, but he forces himself to smile.
"I'm okay," he insists, rubbing her arm to try and reassure her. "I'm okay."
As Mouse hugs him, it strikes Edwin that he isn't lying.
END NOTE: As always any and all feedback is welcome, including critique as long as it is politely worded!