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BabySlothXYaoi- Pfft, I definitely didn't write that chapter because I miss Karen... swear it. Funny story, it was originally going to be Ty in the dream, to be Rhys' special someone... then it became Karen... then it became Beth... then it was Beth and Bob... Then it was Karen again. So now I have four drafts with all of them in the dream, but I thought Karen fitted best, so went with her. That's true, I think... feel like I read somewhere that most dreams are only a few seconds and happen just before you wake up.
Chapter Warning- Includes sexual references between minors which are written for the sake of the story and inexplicitly.
Carl slept beside me last night. We didn't touch. Carl just lay beside me and kept talking until I fell asleep since he knows I have trouble with that now.
Eugene had found a bottle of water in one of the cars last night, stashed away beneath the backseats. The rules with scavenging seem to be, if you find it, it's yours, unless Judith needs it. Which she doesn't, since we have a reserve of water that Rick keeps for her. Just as Carl and I were trying to find a place to sleep last night, Eugene had awkwardly stood up, handing me the bottle. I took it after a moment of awkward staring, knowing he was still trying to apologise about Washington.
Now that everyone's awake, Rick decides to let the group rest for the first half of the day before we continue towards DC. Since the Estate was out of the question now, Michonne had suggested we revert to our original destination that Eugene wanted to go to. It's not much, but it keeps us moving.
I see Rosita under the hood of one of the broken-down cars, using her rifle to keep it up while she works.
I drag my feet over to her, nodding my head to a song I'm singing in my head. I think it might be TOTO. I hover by the car, waiting for her to notice me and to sense that I want to help.
She pokes her head out.
She notices me.
She doesn't ask me to help.
She disappears back under the hood.
I know Rosita's trying to make me use my words since she's just as good at reading my silences as Carl is.
"Need any help?" I ask her, caving.
"Do you have a fresh car battery and a new radiator?"
I shake my head, adding a very small "no."
"Then I don't think there's anything to help." She grabs her gun and slams the hood down, making me jump.
I go to drag my feet back to where I was, but Rosita stops me.
"Hey!"
I turn, "Yeah?"
"Carl won't tell you flatly, so I will. This whole walker-killing spree you've been on. It's dumb as hell, and you're being an idiot."
Her words sting, though not nearly as much as I thought they would.
But Rosita isn't done lecturing me. "You're good. Good at killing walkers, and you've got good instincts. I know you're not on some half-cocked suicide mission like Sasha. But whatever it is you think you're doing? It's stupid. You're not going to get yourself killed... you're going to get someone else killed. So knock that shit off." She walks away, leaving me in the middle of the road to contemplate her speech.
When we're all ready to set off, I step with Carl, giving him his hat back as we walk behind Glenn and Maggie, preoccupying my boredom by counting the trees as we pass them. Like faces in a city or walkers in a cluster, they all have a uniqueness. But when they're together, they blend into one thing... a claustrophobic crowd, a group of rotting corpses, a profound and untamed forest.
Glenn pulls me aside to talk just after tree one-thousand-two-hundred-and forty-nine, my feet aching from an already long day of walking.
"Hey, Rhys, can I ask a favour?"
I nod.
"I saw Eugene give you that water bottle... do you mind if Maggie has it? She hasn't had a drink in days." Glenn is clearly ashamed by his question, even more so when I hand him the bottle without any hesitation.
"Thanks, man."
I just nod again.
I catch up with Carl and start my counting from the beginning.
Just when I think I'm making good progress on my tree surveying, a strong hand taps me on the back, Abraham stepping into view beside me. Making me stop my count on tree three-hundred-and-seven.
Abe offers me the bottle of brown liquid, which tastes like how an air freshener smells. I refuse, worried about what Carl would do to me if I tried it again.
"You are just like your big sis', you know that?" Abraham takes a swig. "I'm starting to think none of you people will be my drinking buddy."
"He's fifteen." Carl glares at Abraham.
Carl's disapproval only manages to make the man chuckle, dabbing at his own sweaty forehead with a dirty rag he has slung over his shoulder.
"Wait, my sister?" I ask him.
"Jesus! He speaks." Abraham continues to find himself hilarious. "Yes, Miss Sasha over there just told me that me and her- we ain't friend, and to be honest... my heart's in pieces."
"Sasha's not my sister," I tell him plainly.
He seems to find this funny too. "That's a shame... because I think you're the only person who can bring that fine lady back."
"Back?"
"Back." Abraham nods, tapping a finger against his temple as if we just shared a deep secret. I'm not sure if he realises he's making no sense, as he falls behind again, melting from my peripheral.
Carl looks at me, seemingly just as confused.
Once again, I try to count the trees, but I'm stopped on tree thirteen, this time by Tara punching my bare shoulder, my sunburn screaming.
"Missing TEAM-GRR yet?" she asks me over a pair of blue-rimmed sunglasses that she found in that sports car last night. Her 'grr' is somehow packed with energy.
"TEAM...GRR? Carl asks past me.
Tara puts a finger to her lips. "Sorry, sir, but that's top-secret information. Reserved only for the secret seven."
Carl looks beyond confused now.
Tara goes back to talking to me... or herself. It's hard to tell with the glasses. "To be perfectly honest, I think we lost our mojo when the firetruck died." She makes the sign of the cross. "God bless that beautiful ride."
"It was kinda a piece of shit..." I mumble.
"Hey!" Tara pulls her glasses down the bridge of her nose to look over them at me, like some grumpy librarian. "Don't diss the firetruck... that thing was like our Mystery Machine!"
I give her my 'I'm done talking' nod, which she seems to understand because she too vanishes from my side vision, and I hear her start to speak with Noah at the back of the group.
I give up on counting the forest, everyone contempt on interrupting me. Reaching into my jacket pocket instead, I feel something that makes me chuckle. Carl stares at me like I just spoke Latin.
"I'll be back in a second," I tell him.
"Daryl." I get the man's attention after walking all the way to the back of the group, where I find him trailing. "You said you were out of fags last night, right?"
Daryl looks at me, confused. Glenn and Gabriel go wide-eyed. Tara starts laughing until I realise.
"I mean- uh- sorry! I mean cigarettes... back home we call them fags- um, shit-" I feel embarrassed for the first time in weeks... the sudden rush of emotion might feel good if I wasn't burning on the inside from mortification.
I hold out the cigarette I just found in my pocket. The one I got from Gabriel's church long ago, returning it to its original owner.
Daryl takes the half-smoked stick, rolling it between his fingers, then nodding, "I'm gonna go for a scout. You coming?"
I shake my head, thinking about what Carl said yesterday, what Rosita and Noah said. "Nah, I think I'll stay."
"Tell them I went looking for water," Daryl tells me, disappears into the hungry forest, letting it consume him from sight.
FROM A FRIEND.
We find the terrifying words written on a piece of stark white paper, lying in the middle of the road. Along with them sits ten bottles of water and four milk cartons of the same.
When Daryl gets back, Rick hands him the paper. Daryl draws his crossbow in response, aiming into the thick woodland on either side of the fractured road, searching for a culprit.
Tara asks the question on all of our minds, "What else are we going to do?"
Everyone's standing in a circle around the bottles, surrounding them, just in case they try to make a getaway before we make a decision.
"Not this," Rick tells a thirsty Tara. "We don't know who left it."
"If that's a trap, then we already happen to be in it," Eugene tells Rick.
"It could be poisoned," I tell him.
"Well," Eugene's gaze is fixated on the bottles as he speaks, "I, for one, would like to believe it is indeed from a friend."
"What if it isn't," Carol asks him in a murmur, "What if they put something in it?"
I avoid her eyes when they try to find mine with her strange attempt at common ground.
Eugene doesn't listen. Picking up one of the water bottles, he starts to unscrew the cap with shaky hands.
Rosita and Tara try telling him not to, but he doesn't listen again, telling them, "Quality assurance."
Abraham steps across the circle swiftly and smacks the bottle from Eugene's grasp, not saying a word. The water explodes across the tarmac as the bottle hits it, sizzling away under the heat.
Rick tells him, "We can't."
Everyone looks crushed. Reduced to sunken eyes and gaping mouths as we stare down at the resource we so desperately need, one that we can't have.
But then a prayer is answered, a silent prayer from all of us. The sky cuts open above our heads, thunder rumbles through our bones, and drops of necessity start to fall from the clouds.
Our clothes begin to weigh heavy from the rain as it hammers down, and everyone suddenly starts to act strange. Tara and Rosita start laughing from their guts, lying down on the road as the rain pours onto them. Glenn has a wide grin plastered on his face as he cups his hands, drinking deeply from them. Carl looks like he's been ignited by the rain. He's smiling and looking up at the clouds, laughing as he shields his sister beneath his hat. Water drips from Carl's chin as he tries to catch it in his mouth. He looks at me, blue and green, acquainting for the first time in a long time.
We all grab bottles and pans, even plastic bags, anything to catch the rain. The bottles from a friend now seeming so unimportant as we kick them aside. Mere drops of water in the storm.
While I fill one of Judith's empty sippy cups, I catch Carl looking at Rosita. I'm not sure why until I realise how wet her tank top had become under the weather. I double-take at him, before I start to laugh hard at him, doubling over as I do. The laughter taking over every part of me, making my head spin as an experience that feels so new and liberating, takes control.
The thunder becomes more tumultuous as we finish collecting all the water we can carry. Judith wails as the storm becomes heavier, louder than any I've seen.
"Let keep moving," Rick calls over the claps of light streaking through the clouded sky.
"There's a barn!" Daryl shouts at him.
"Where?"
The barn smells of animal shit and damp hay. We funnel inside after Rick, securing the building on his commands. There are stalls for livestock, all thankfully empty and surprisingly clean. A storage room sits beside the entrance with one walker inside, which Maggie takes down. Everything else in that room is mouldy sheets and empty cans of beans. We decide to keep that door shut.
Maggie starts to tear apart books on raising livestock that she finds, making a fire in the far corner of the barn, the one with the least number of leaks above it.
We all settle in, breathing a sigh of relief for the first time in weeks. Carl seems nervous, though, looking up the rickety ceiling as if it might cave.
The sun leaves us behind, probably tired of all the rain. Promising to check back in tomorrow with a moonlit kiss goodnight.
Everyone finds their own spots in the barn. Most people sit alone, trying to sleep under the persistent storm. Carl and I sit beside Rick, Daryl, and Michonne by the fire, listening to them talk about the old world as Judith sleeps in her father's arms. Glenn and Carol join us at some point.
Carl and I get bored of the fireside conversation, retreating instead into one of the animal stalls at the far end of the barn. Carl offered to take Judith, but Rick refused, telling him that he'll keep her tonight.
Once the stall door closes, the two of us are sealed off from everyone else. The fireside conversations, no longer audible over the booming thunder.
The two of us sit with our backs pressed to the stall's wall, avoiding the cow pats on the other side. Hay surrounds us, only a little damp from the storm. I notice again that Carl seems unnerved by the weather.
"Are you okay?" I ask quietly.
Carl's eyes fixate on me, "It's really loud."
I nod, "It'll go away. Promise."
Carl nods repeatedly, and I'm not sure if he believes me.
The thunder calms for a moment, and Carl asks, "You tired?"
"No," I answer him. "Are you?"
"Nah," he yawns, having always been a terrible liar.
"I'm sorry that I keep killing walkers..." I say it to him very slowly.
"It's okay," Carl tells me, smiling. "I get it."
"No," I tell him, "you don't. But that's my fault."
Carl doesn't say anything to that.
"I haven't told you everything," I say, watching as his face illuminates under a crack of lightning, his wet hair sticking to the stall his head presses against. "I want to, though."
Carl just looks at me, holding my hand, making me feel safe in the hay. His fear of the weather seemingly halted.
"It just felt like it was easier," I breathe, "after everything. Tyreese... Gareth... Terminus... Madeline." Saying her name feels wrong, like saying Voldemort instead of The Dark Lord.
I continue, "I didn't want to admit how easy it got... not just killing walkers... but that guy at Terminus. I felt like a monster because I didn't feel bad about it... not like you did with the boy you killed."
"You're not a m-" Carl tries.
"Let me finish," I cut him off. "I left the church for DC with Abraham and Rosita because you called me good, told me I hadn't let the world spoil me, and that hurt because I knew it had... I couldn't tell you. I didn't want you to think I was something else."
Carl doesn't say anything, letting me speak as I asked.
"Rosita gave me a chance to stay," I admit. "When we were getting ready to leave for DC she gave me a chance to stay with you, and I said no. I never told you. I guess I thought running would be easier."
"What changed?" Carl asks me.
"Weirdly enough, Abraham did. He told me that he could see I was running. I didn't even realise I was. But when he said it, it made sense. He helped me realise what I was running from. Helped me understand that what I wanted to be for you didn't exist, that you can't just be good or bad. You have to be strong, so you can help or hurt people. He told me, 'Running from the ones that you love the most won't help. They're the only ones that can.'"
Carl's eyes widened, "When did Abraham get so philosophical?"
"Don't know, just that kind of dude, I guess."
"I guess what Abe said only just hit me," I pause, "I thought he was telling me it was important to be strong, which I thought meant I had to kill. The truth is, he was saying that I was already strong... we all are. If we're alive, we're strong."
"You think you can stop running?" Carl asks me.
"I want to try... to slow down at least."
Carl sits there, deep in the hay, thinking about what I said. A few moments pass with nothing said until-
"What were you laughing at during the storm?" Carl asks me. It's random and off-topic, and it makes me laugh again.
I snicker just from thinking back to it. "Dude, I saw you gawking at Rosita."
To say his face explodes with red would be an understatement.
"It's cool," I laugh. "I get it."
He seems to calm down.
"Just wish you were looking at me," I confess.
"Yeah?" He asks.
"Because I was looking at you," I admit.
"You were?"
"Yeah, I like that top. Especially in the rain."
Carl hesitates for a moment, then moves to kiss me, and I let him. It's the first time since the white van. Both of us realise how much we've missed each other. I touch his chest, and Carl moves along my neck, looking for a spot he found that last time. He discovers it, refamiliarising himself, and it's bliss. He takes my hands in his, pulling them down to his belt.
I pull away, searching his eyes. "You're sure?"
"I am," he breaths.
"I mean, you don't have to be- with everything that happened..."
"I want you to... only if you want to-"
"I do. You want me to... f-for you?"
Carl nods, smiling.
"Are you sure," I ask him again.
He kisses the end of my nose, pressing our foreheads together and nodding. "I trust you."
I nod, and he rests his head back against the stall, breathing gently, watching as rain spits through gaps in the roof above.
The thunder continues to rock the barn, battering it with its harsh gales.
I look up one last time.
I don't feel that guilty happiness anymore. I feel rapture course through my veins. It's intense and delightful, elegant and messy all at the same time... for the first time, everything inside me lights up.
A/N
Well, that was kind of like the end of act 1. Glad Rhys finally got everything off his chest.
Damn, that cigarette has been on the mantle for a while! Bet you forgot about it! ... I kinda did too.