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BabySlothXYaoi- I really do focus on the ladies, don't I? But yes, Eugene is one of my favourites too... my favourite character hasn't even been introduced yet! Rhys can definitely be clueless about what people mean to him until they die, but he's going to get better. I think it comes from the origin of the word 'fag,' which means kindling- sticks that you burn. Rhys is 15, and Carl is 14 going on 15 soon... honestly, one of the reasons I enjoy writing for the two of them so much is because of how adult the world has made their attitudes. Yup, I removed that A/N, since when I wrote it I was tired and doubted myself lol. Thank you for the lovely comment!

Surprise! Super early sneaky chapter is both early and sneaky.

The water wakes me up. A tap tap tap on my cheek. The Rhythmic pats from a leak in the roof are soothing for a while, then they get annoying. Now I need to pee.

Carl's holding tightly around my middle, not letting go when I pull away. Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough.

I move my head from the drop zone, trying to sleep as I listen to the gale force outside shake the barn.

But I really do need to pee.

I pull away again, Carl letting go this time.

"W-where?" He mumbles into the hay.

"I'll only be a minute," I whisper, kissing his damp hair. He relaxes.

I shuffle out of the stall. The fire out, everyone asleep.

I go to the door instinctively, only to realise there's still a storm outside, the barn doors clattering violently from the typhoon beyond them. I scratch my head, not sure what to do. Then wings emerge from the darkness, making me jump.

"Rhys." The wings nod.

"Daryl," I respond.

"Why you up?" he starts walking back and forth, pacing in front of the doors. I notice a small, circular burn on his hand. "Can't sleep?"

I shake my head no, yawning too.

"Need to pay a visit," I tell him.

He looks at me funny, like yesterday when I gave him his smoke.

I realise why.

"Pee. I need to pee," I tell him in American.

He nods, pointing to the room by the entrance, the one we're keeping shut.

I thank him, going to the door, still rubbing the sleep from my tired eyes.

Daryl suddenly stops me, holding up a hand to listen, but I heard it too.

Whispers on the wind, whispers like howling, only to become growls.

Daryl peeks through a gap in the rampaging barn doors. Then he suddenly slams his force into them, bringing his burnt hand around to tighten the chain holding the doors subdued.

I understand, rushing to help. We hold the doors shut, but the wooden gates fight back, pushing against us, snarls of hunger coming from beyond. The barn, like a lantern in a snowstorm, fights to keep the light inside burning.

It feels like we can't hold it, our feet slipping on the mud, the doors opening, the doors to our sanctuary giving way, the doors that keep the flame lit, buckling to the outside. But from the shadows, Maggie comes to our aid, helping us hold firm against the rain, the biting thunder and certain doom.

Suddenly Sasha appears by my side. Our shoulders pressed together as we lean into the doors, our hands cutting from splintered wood, grunts escaping us as our feet slip in wet mud, grinding into the earth and creating trenches as we try to hold on.

Rick's here now- Michonne joining him, Glenn and Carol too. All pushing. All hands, holding out the hurricane of teeth. Rosita's pushing my back, giving me strength, crushing me with it when there's no more room to help. But help keeps coming, Abraham leaning over Carol to hold us together. I spot Carl rush to help. Tara's here, Noah too. Even Gabriel and Eugene push against the danger. All of us fighting to keep out the walkers, the wind. Mother nature herself unable to open the doors, the barn shaking from her wrath, her rage at our will to survive.

The storm ended before the sun came back, taking the dead with it, sucking them away into the night's whispers of retreat.

People went back to sleep.

No one said a word.

No one needed to.

I stay by the door, sitting with my back to it in the kicked up mud for hours, thinking about how I still need to pee.

I must drift off because I'm opening my eyes to a soft cough on my right. Turning my head, I expect to see Maggie or Sasha, only to find Carol staring back at me.

I simply look away.

"You can speak to me," she whispers, her voice dry.

"You want that?" I ask, not caring for her answer. Keeping my eyes averted.

"Ever since I got back all those weeks ago, I've been waiting for you to say something."

"Why?"

She sighs, "Because Tyreese told you what I did, and you barely reacted."

I nod, turning back to face her, to finally face it.

"I already knew."

Carol narrows her eyes, "You kn- How?"

"Back at the prison," I sigh, "I was trying to work out who would do it... who would kill Karen. I couldn't. I helped you clean that water filter, and you acted so strangely... but the thought still didn't cross my mind that it was you. Rick was looking for who killed Karen, then suddenly he goes on a run with you... comes back without you... even then, I didn't even consider it."

Carol's staring at me, her green eyes dart between my own like a wild cat, unsure of how to react.

I keep talking. "When Carl and I got out of the prison and got held up in a petrol station, he told me you helped teach the kids how to use knives, said you're more capable than you let on... that's when it clicked... You convinced me not to see Karen... to perform with Beth instead. You convinced Ty to leave Karen to see me. That's when you did it. That's when you killed her."

Carol is silent, still watching me, seemingly impressed. I hate that. I hate that she feels that way. I hate that a part of me is happy about it.

"That enough?" I ask.

"Why don't you hate me?" She asks back.

"I do."

"It doesn't feel like you do... why don't you kill me?"

"You're one of us," I tell her plainly. "Ty forgave you. I do it for him, not you."

"I'm sorry I killed Karen," she tells me, her voice whining at the end.

I try to be as cold as possible. "You're not... you're sorry because you hurt Tyreese and me. You're sorry that you still feel the guilt of what you took from us. You're sorry because you smiled at me and called me 'sweetie,' when you knew what I needed was to know the truth." I nod slowly. "You'd kill her again because you think you were right. You thought you were saving everyone."

Carol is impossible to read sometimes. Her eyes shut off from her thoughts as they wait for something to kill... again, she reminds me of a cat.

"I know you're sorry that you hurt us," I tell her, "I guess I forgive you for that. But don't ever say you're sorry for killing her- because you're not, and I won't ever forgive that."

I get up to find Carl, trying to leave Carol in the mud.

"You should kill me," she says, almost sounding desperate. "You need to be tough... softness gets you killed. It got Lizzy and Mika killed after the prison. It got Tyreese killed at the Estate."

I don't turn back when I tell her, "I get the feeling being tough killed you a long time ago."

I sit beside Carl in our stall with the door ajar. His breathing is heavy as he lies fast asleep.

I can hear Maggie and Daryl talking in low whispers, the storm no longer quietening outside voices.

I listen.

"You should get some sleep," Maggie tells him.

"Yeah." Daryl's response is barely audible.

"It's okay to rest now," she whispers.

Carl stirs beside me, his eyes opening slowly.

"Did you sleep?" he murmurs up at me.

I nod, telling the truth for once.

"Where?"

"By the door," I chuckle.

I look up to see Sasha and Maggie leaving the barn, the music box I gave Carl, under Maggie's arm.

"Thirsty?" I ask him, handing a bottle of water to him.

"Thanks." Carl sits up gracelessly, unscrewing the bottle cap clumsily in his morning confusion.

I then get excited, remembering something. Carl must notice this, putting the bottle down after he takes a sip and watching me fish through my bag, pulling out a rolled-up comic book.

"Here," I hand it to him, satisfied by his grin.

"Where did you!?-"

"Back in Wiltshire, found it under a bed."

"Sweet."

Carl starts reading the comic book, which I'm sure he's already read a thousand times before. I'm proud of myself when I recognise the yellow dressed character on the front to be the flash. Carl just snorts, "Not hard to guess, idiot."

I enjoy watching Carl read, looking at the pictures over his shoulder, letting him explain each one in ridiculous detail.

But then I remember that I still need to pee.

I stand, leaving Carl to his stories of the quickest man to ever wear spandex, as I head to the door. Everyone is up now, Daryl cleaning his crossbow, Abraham loading bullets into a magazine.

"hold up a minute," Daryl's voice halts me. I start to wonder if I'll ever get to pee.

Daryl doesn't say anything more, so I lean against one of the barn's support beams, opposite the one he has his back to, and wait. Even then, he doesn't say anything for a while.

"You been cleaning that pistol?"

"No," I answer, not sure I would know how to.

"Got many bullets?" Daryl's questions are direct, his eyes never leaving his crossbow.

"Yeah, it's been full since Terminus, I think."

Daryl nods real slow, taking his time to get to what he wants to say. The cloth he's using to clean his crossbow lingers over the same spot. "Sorry about Tyreese."

Daryl and Rick were the only ones that haven't brought Ty up to me in the past weeks.

"Sorry about Beth," I tell him.

"What I promised you," Daryl mutters, "back in your cell. I'm sorry that I can't follow through on it."

I think back to the prison when I woke up from being knocked out after I found Karen. How Daryl told me he'd put an arrow through her killer's skull.

I shake my head, "I get it. I guess Carol is to you what Karen was to me."

Daryl doesn't say anymore, so I stand up straight and head for the exit again.

I reach for the doors, only for one to open from the other side.

"Hey... Everyone."

Maggie's voice is loud, getting all the eyes in the barn on her head as she pokes it through the barn's double doors.

"This is Aaron."

A/N

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