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BabySlothXYaoi- It was nice to have Rhys and Michonne bond over something, even if they didn't share much dialogue... I always find it hard to put them in scenes together since Michonne is much more important to Carl. Thanks, the B-day chapter was a blast to write.

I awake to Carl, one arm wrapped around me, his breath tickling against the back of my neck. His other hand is pressed flat against my shoulder blade like he's squeezing me. Making sure I can't run away.

I decide not to let him know I'm awake. Choosing instead to enjoy the moments before we have to get to work.

"You awake?" Carl whispers, not letting me have it.

"Mm-hm," I mumble, my head buried deep into my pillow. "How did you know?"

"You always sigh when you wake up... like, heavily."

I roll over to face him. Turning on top of his arm that was against my shoulder.

"When did you get here?" I yawn at him.

"About an hour ago," Carl tells me.

"What time is it?"

"Half-sevenish."

"The run crew is heading out at eight," I tell him. "Should be bringing back what Euge needs for the solars."

"Yeah, Tara came into mine and Noah's room very loudly and told him."

"It'll be nice to have reliable power," I sigh, pushing my forehead into his chest. "The shower went cold halfway in yesterday... honestly thought I was going to die."

I bring my head up to look at him, noticing his eyes are wide. He looks worried as he watches me.

"What?" I ask.

"Say no," Carl whispers.

"Say no?"

Carl nods short urgent nods.

"Okay, you'll need to give me more than that," I chuckle.

"Tara mentioned that Glenn wants another person to go on this run," Carl tells me, still whispering like he might cry if he raises his voice.

"Why?"

"I don't know. But Glenn's going to ask you to go."

"How do you know?"

"Tara told me to make sure you come to the armoury before eight." Carl suddenly pulls me closer, holding on tightly. "Just say no."

Carl waits for me to get dressed- going to leave the room until I tell him he can stay.

Once I'm ready, I pull on my sleeveless jacket, and we head next door, meeting Noah on the porch. He's scribbling away in the notebook Reg gave him along with his premotion.

"What you working on?" I ask him.

"Just some ideas for guard towers... the supports too," Noah shows me some of the rough sketches on the paper. "Figured if we take down some of the surrounding trees, we could expand our sightline and use the timber to build watchtowers around the wall. We can reinforce it too, make sure no one can just drive through it."

I know he's thinking of Shirewilt because he says, "This place can be as safe as we need it to be."

The three of us start making our way towards Olivia's, passing by Gabriel's church on the way, its garage door open, showing the rows of chairs and makeshift alter within.

"Morning," Noah smiles at Gabriel, Carl waving too. I look forward, not in the mood to face him today.

"Good morning," Gabriel murmurs from a shelf by the door, bibles stacked neatly on top.

I realise Carl's assumption is correct when I see Maggie standing outside the armoury with the run group. Deanna and Reg are there too, standing around and looking wise.

"Good morning," Deanna smiles her weathered smile at us, opening her arms and clapping her hands together. "Aiden, Glenn- come here, please," she calls over her shoulder. Maggie's standing beside her, unreadable as always.

The two approach Maggie and Deanna, reaching them as Carl and I do. Noah disappears into the armoury to help Tara and Nicholas load up the van, Reg following them. I notice Eugene standing by stiffly.

"Hey Rhys," Glenn rubs the back of his head, smiling at Carl awkwardly.

"Morning."

"Rhys," Glenn sighs, "We're going to hit up that place Eugene found. Could use an extra pair of eyes."

Before I can say anything, Deanna speaks.

"I know what you said in your interview, but Glenn requested you for this personally. As the closest thing to a guardian, Maggie has said she's fine with you going. It's not too dangerous looking, right Aiden?"

Aiden shakes his head, "We've driven past it before. It's outside our red zones and seems relatively quiet."

"Why do you need me if it's not dangerous?" I ask.

Glenn answers, "It's a big place and could take a long time to find what we need. Another pair of eyes that I trust would be welcome."

"Why me, though?"

Glenn looks away for a moment before answering. "After everything we've been through, I know you can handle yourself out there."

"It's your choice, honey," Maggie adds.

Everyone's looking at me. Even Tara and Noah stick their heads out to watch.

"It'll be like the TEAMGRR reunion tour!" Tara calls out.

I can feel Carl staring at me.

"No," I tell them finally on a strained breath. "Sorry, Glenn."

He nods, looking disappointed, but I can tell he gets it. "No worries, man."

Carl finds my hand while the five of us staying behind to watch the other finish gearing up.

Noah pushes a holstered pistol with a silencer attached into Eugene's unresponsive arms. "Come on, you've got to protect yourself."

"Not if I don't go," Eugene pushes the gun back at Noah, who gives him a frustrated glare.

"We're not driving all that way just so we can drive back with the wrong shit," Aiden tells Eugene, handing Noah a gun of his own in the process.

Eugene tries arguing, but Aiden disappears into the armoury for more guns, and Noah just pushes the gun back into Eugene's arms.

"So Rhys gets an easygoing sick day, but I am required to attend?"

Tara rolls her eyes at him, "Dude, Rhys isn't sick, and he isn't the one that knows what we need."

Eugene gives up, electing to sit in the back of the van and sulk.

Aiden and his parent say their goodbyes, so do Glenn and Maggie. Glenn, patting me on the shoulder before hopping in the back of the van with the others.

'Fucking skank,

Is she hotter than me?

Would you fuck me?

Are you gay?

You blocked me on Facebook, and now you're going to die.'

The obnoxious lyrics from the blasting dubstep play out the van's exit. Windows rolled down as they drive away like they always do.

The lady in the dubstep is British.

"Not all you're music's like that, is it?" Carl ask me.

After waving the run group off, we find Mikey, who had been hovering nearby, watching his brother leave. He decided to steal a set of keys from his mum's office. The three of us spend the morning playing snooker on the pool table in 105. The house across the street from 101 and 99.

I'm terrible at it.

Carl picks it up fast.

Mikey dominates every game.

"I hate this," I whine when Carl sinks a red ball into a corner pocket. The white net gobbling it up, with a satisfying clunk when it lands.

"You just need to take your time," he laughs at me, moving onto the blue ball.

"Dude, you've only played five games... don't give me tips."

"Fine," Carl shrugs before potting the blue into the same pocket as the red. Turning to give me the smuggest of looks.

"Smart-ass," I whisper under my breath.

Carl is definitely in a position to give tips, however. Since after losing all his previous games to Mikey, he finally manages to take the lead. Sinking the pink ball before moving onto the black. Getting it on his first try and winning the game.

"And that," Carl holds the cue above his in triumph, "Is. How. It's. Done." Shaking his cue with every word.

"Damn, you're a fast learner," Mikey admits defeat far more graciously than me.

"Don't stroke his ego," I warn Mikey. "If it gets any bigger, he won't be able to fit out the door."

Carl gives an over the top and dramatic laugh, holding a hand up to his ear. "Oh... oh, shoot, Mikey? Do you... do you hear the sound of a sore loser?"

"Whatever, man," I wave him off, putting my cue back in its stand by the garage door. "Still luck."

"Pfft," Carl blows air through pursed lips dismissively, "I'm a good shot. I was always a better shot than you."

"Is that true?" Mikey asks, genuinely curious and not trying to fan the flames of my defeat. He kicks off his shoes and clambers onto the pool table, sitting with his legs crossed as he pushes the remaining balls into corner pockets, some bouncing off the sides and rolling in different directions.

"Yeah," I admit, joining him atop the table, taking my trainers off.

Clearly off his winning high, Carl shrugs. "Rhys was a pretty good shot too." He joins us on the shoeless pool table.

"Only with Sasha's rifle," I point out. "Kinda sucked with my handgun."

Mikey is watching the exchange with blown up eyes, looking fascinated. "What was it like?" He asks.

"Out there?"

"Yeah," Mikey nods at us enthusiastically.

"Different," I give the tamest answer I can think of.

"Come on," Mikey groans. "I've never been out there, not since the walls went up. I haven't even seen one of the dead up close."

"You haven't?" Carl asks.

Mikey shakes his head, "When we got here, there was no one. No dead, no people. Aiden didn't let me leave the house much until the walls were up, too. He was almost a lieutenant in the R.O.T.C, so he always feels like he has to protect me."

"Your brother's an asshole," I tell him bluntly, which makes Mikey laugh.

"Aid can be a jerk, but he's always been nice to me, always came home on his R.O.T.C breaks to see me. I think he felt sorry for me."

"Why would he feel sorry for you?" Carl rolls a red billiard ball towards Mikey along with his question.

Mikey stops it with his knee, taking it in his hands and rolling it between them. "Mom and Dad- they're great, but... I don't know, guess they only wanted two kids."

"Judith wasn't planned either," Carl smiles.

"That sucks," I say to Mikey. "I bet it does, anyway."

"Yeah." Mikey rolls the ball to me, "I know they love me... but... I don't know. Spencer is so much like Mom and Dad. He always excelled in school... he was even going to be a congressperson like Mom." Mikey sighs, looking sad. "When they had Aiden, he never really fitted their standards... he got in a bunch of fights at school, always had girls over, was always going to parties. I remember Mom would stay up all night on the phone calling everyone she knew trying to find him, while Dad would drive around searching the streets. I think they just got worn out."

"But Aiden's here now," Carl says.

Mikey chuckles, but his eyes aren't laughing. "After a while, Aid got sick of them worrying about him... sick of making them worried. That's why he joined the training corps."

Carl tilts his head. "How did he end up here with you guys?"

"Like I said," Mikey shrugs, "Aiden felt bad for me. I think we both knew that Mom and Dad spent so much of their worry on him that they didn't really have any left for me... I think he felt guilty. Like he took all their attention away from me. So yeah, anyway, he was home visiting, took me out to this awesome carnival that would roll through Ohio once a year..." A smile creeps across Mikey's face as he tells the story. "They had this crazy roller coast that had six loops, and Aid always felt sick, but I would make him go on it over and over... and he'd let me make him." His face falls. "Then everything happened. The world ended on our way back from the carnival. We lived in Ohio, but Aid was driving me to DC because Spence, Mom, and Dad were there for a business thing."

"That's a long way to drive," Carl says.

"It was so scary," Mikey admits. "There were so many people that needed our help. They didn't have cars, so they just ran. Ran until something got them. Aiden wouldn't stop the van, kept saying he needed to keep us safe." He shakes his head of it. "We found our family, and we were gonna go back to Ohio, but the military stopped us at a checkpoint. Sent us here."

The pool table goes quiet besides the occasional sound of snooker balls clattering together as we continue to roll them around.

"Do you get along with Spencer?" Carl finally asks.

Mikey shrugs, pushing three balls into the same pocket, clogging it up. "He was always busy. Now he just kinda spends all his time on guard duty or drinking."

"So..." Mikey looks between us. "What's it like out there?"

Carl and I look at each other, Mikey's gaze still between us.

Carl goes first.

"It's not like it is in here. There aren't many people left. Those that are left... you can't really trust."

"Until you can," I add. "I was with someone, a friend. I thought he'd be the only person I could trust out there. Then we met this crazy guy, living in a town on his own. He split my friend and me up. But he helped me after he realised I wouldn't hurt him. He told me where to find everyone I'm with now. Now they're my family. I wouldn't have Carl if I didn't trust someone that was left."

"Woah," Mikey breathes, sounding genuinely starstruck by the story. "I bet there are some weird people out there..."

Carl laughs at this. "Yeah, there was this guy we knew for a while... he went around the prison we lived in ripping up all the beds looking for drugs... oh, and he only had one hand... the other was a knife."

"Awesome," Mikey exclaims. "Can't believe you guys lived in a real prison!"

Feeling the need to one-up Carl's story, I tell my own. "Before I got to the prison... Sean and me, we were going through Texas. We caught a ride in a SWAT van from this badass reporter... she took us all the way across the state. The trip barely cost us anything, just an interview."

"Okay, that's definitely weirder..." Carl admits.

We leave the house after cleaning up the garage. Carl suggests going to Ron's place, which both Mikey and I agree to. Until I see Sam, crossing the street from the armoury, clearly hiding something under his hoodie. He's heading towards 101.

"Hey, guys, I'll catch up," I tell the others vacantly as I keep my eyes posted on Sam.

"Sure?" Carl asks.

"Yeah," I nod, kissing him quickly before running off down the street.

"Sam!" I stop him dead in his tracks. He's a deer in headlights, staring at me with wide eyes.

"Rhys..." he mumbles.

"Sam, what have you got?"

"Nothing..."

"Sam."

He bows his head, taking his hand out from under his hoodie and holding up a bag of two chocolate bars.

I let out a huge breath of relief, glad that he didn't steal what Carol and I had.

"Did you steal them?"

He stuffs the bag back under his hoodie, nodding. "Carol told me if I wanted cookies, I'd have to steal the chocolate for them. And a bar for her."

I nod, following alongside him as we walk towards 101.

"Did you hear about the owl?" Sam looks up at me.

"The statue you're building with your mom?"

"Yeah. Someone broke it." Sam looks down at his feet.

"Sorry to hear that," I pat his shoulder awkwardly, realising I'm definitely not as good at talking to kids as I once was.

"It's okay. Carol said it's not important."

We arrive at the porch of 101, Sam knocking on the door. I don't know why I wait for someone to open it, seeing as I basically live here. Carol must think the same because when she answers the door, she looks surprised.

I think Carol is just as confused as I am when I offer to help to make cookies. Concluding that leaving Sam alone with her might not be a good idea after the armoury. Sam, on the other hand, seems none the wiser, watching us get to work hungrily.

"After these are done, that's it," Carol slams the oven door shut on the cookie dough. "We're not helping you again, and you're not coming back. Got it?"

Sam nods as he watches her setting the oven heat, "Uh-huh."

"I hope you're not expecting to leave with more than half of these. You barely did half the work," Carol adds.

I roll my eyes out the window, washing up in the sink.

"Were you always a good cook?"

Sam's question seems to stun Carol, her voice turning to a whisper. "Sam, we're not talking."

"She was," I tell him over my shoulder as I clean the knife I used to shape the cookies. "She used to run the cooking pit at our old home."

"Really?" Sam sounds shocked, almost amused.

I turn. Carol is staring at me. "That was a long time ago," she says from the corner of her mouth.

Carol hands Sam a cloth, ordering him to wipe down the counter.

"Did you like it?" Sam converses again, "Cooking?"

Carol glares at him, a jar of olive oil in hand. "Sam."

"We don't have to be friends." Sam shrugs as he wipes the counter down. "Just doesn't have to be quiet."

Finished with cleaning, I lean against the kitchen sink, watching Carol, curious as to whether she'll reply.

"I was good at it. It distracted me," Carol answers, keeping her face pointed down at the island where I can't see it fully. "It made me forget when I was sad."

She does look at me now. Her gaze is void, but she keeps her eyes fixed on mine.

"Sometimes, when I get sad, I break stuff," Sam tells us.

"Like what?" I ask, thinking about his statue.

"Nothing," he shrugs again.

Carol and I exchange a look. The kind of look where we have an entire conversation, getting on the same page without a word wasted.

"Someone broke your owl statue," Carol walks around the kitchen island to face him. "Did you break it?"

I hold my breath, not sure why an owl is making me feel this nervous.

Sam nods, small and quick.

"Why?" I ask softly.

"Why are you here?" Carol asks sternly.

"Why did you steal the guns?" Sam looks between us as he changes the topic. I expect Carol to reprimand him for doing so, but she doesn't.

"Because sometimes you need to protect yourself," Carol says.

"Can I have a gun?" Sam looks more serious than I've ever seen him.

Carol looks taken aback.

I don't. Sam's reason not going over my head.

"Why do you want one?" She asks.

"It's not for me," Sam traces his fingers along the wet counter.

"Who's it for?" Carol watches him.

"Your brother?" I ask quietly. "Your Mom?"

Sam looks up like he's just realised how much he's said, rushing from the kitchen as Carol calls after him.

She turns to me as the door slams, "Why would they need guns?"

"Pete," I answer directly. Knowing she'll understand.

She takes a second, moving to stare out the window.

She turns to leave. "Keep an eye on the cookies."

A/N

Damn kids on the pool table! It's not meant for sitting!