Reviews:

Slothiest — Wow, so many chapters in so little time! Honestly very impressive. It's cool to hear someone side with Rhys against Carol! Even I can't bring myself to do it sometimes. I'm glad you saw the Kingdom arc through, and I hope you enjoyed it! Rhys' adventures with Benjamin, Jenny, the King and the rest of that gang were some of my favourites to write. Carl's POV is always fun to write, he sees the word in a much more poetic way to Rhys sometimes — more Carl POV to come in the future I believe. That is a very good point on Henry... I think it's a bit of both? He's a good and hopeful person, but I think that does come from being privileged and not really dealing with the harsher parts of the world. Welcome to the present! A week really is impressive considering this story is now longer than most books. And that's so interesting to hear you never finished twd! Where did you get up to? I always try to write this story so that it makes sense for someone that hasn't seen the show, but do let me know if anything ever seems like it's not making sense! I do have a soft spot for Henry, if not just because of Rhys' love for him, but yeah, Connie's the best. Thank you for your reviews, and please feel free to keep writing them!

Scars — Sending You Away: Part One

-Then-

-Eight Months after the bridge-

"You sure you can keep up?"

Carl's grin spread from freckled cheek to freckled cheek.

"Oh, I can keep up, Grimes!"

I follow him down our usual track, Downy-Beardy racing against the wind an inch behind Carl's dapple grey horse. The day is scalding and thanks to last night's rain, clumps of hot mud get kicked up into my face from under Carl's hooves. By the time we're back in Alexandria, our horses are heaving and pulling against their reins in the direction of the water troughs before we can stable them.

"See," Carl laughs, hanging his tack on the stable wall. "Knew you'd be slower."

"Downy is double your horse's size!" I shoot back, wiping my muddy palms across his chest in retaliation for his gloating.

"You should come out with Daryl and me sometime," Carl suggests. "Maybe you'd learn a thing or two."

I roll my eyes and open my arms for a hug. Carl looks at me suspiciously but accepts. Once I have him locked tightly in my grip, I press my cheek against his and rub it across his face, being sure to get as much mud onto his face as possible.

"Gross," he giggles, pulling free and pushing me a few steps back.

"My bad," I laugh. "I thought you were all about the mud now that you live in the forest with feral Daryl."

"You're hilarious."

Since the bridge exploded and we lost Rick, Carl hasn't spent all that much time in Alexandria. Or any of the communities for that matter. He's still looking for his dad. Daryl hasn't been back once. Michonne goes out to help when she can, but since moving from the camp of pregnant to very pregnant, she's been staying home in Alexandria.

Michonne laughs at the state of us when we walk through the kitchen covered in mud and smelling like horses.

"I did say going riding the day after a thunderstorm was a bad idea," she says, sipping from her 'Have a nice day!' coffee mug. "Just sayin'."

"We're gonna take a shower," Carl tells her.

"Showers!" She calls after us as we run up the stairs. "Two separate showers, please!"

Carl groans and hands me a towel from the linen closet outside the bathroom, telling me to go first.

He catches my arm before I manage close the door and pulls me back into the hallway, pressing our bodies together. "On second thought, you're really cute covered in mud..."

I snort at him but can't help my breathing from getting heavy when he kisses my neck. I wrap my fingers around his nape to hold him there, sighing deeply.

"What are you doing?"

We both jump apart at Judith's voice and default to standing awkwardly on other sides of the hallway and trying to look casual.

"I caught you kissing!" she giggles.

"Yep," Carl says, nodding way too many times. "Kissing."

I go for my shower, never getting over Alexandria's water pressure and how much better it is than Hilltop's.

When I'm done, and poke my head out the door to call for Carl to get me some clothes. No one answers. Not wanting to run down the hall to my room in just a towel, I dart across the landing to Carl's room. It's sadder in here than it used to be. Most of his stuff is either at Daryl's camp or stuffed into boxes in the closet. I fish through his drawers for something to wear, and by the time I'm dressed, and downstairs, I realise I'm alone.

Out the window, I spot Rosita jogging down the street and looking worried.

"Ro!" I bark, running out the door to catch her, my hair still wet. "Have you seen—"

"Yeah," she breathes, nodding. "Him and Michonne are at the infirmary with Jocelyn."

"Who?"

"A woman showed up at the gate with a bunch of kids... Michonne knows her."

"Knows her like...?"

Rosita nods again. "Like from before the world went to shit."

"Christ, how long was I in the shower?"

Mikey and Aaron come running down the road then.

"You guys headed to the infirmary?"

We both nod and join them.

Carl and Michonne are outside talking when we reach the infirmary, I go to speak, but then the door flies open. A woman with dirt-sewn dreadlocks and torn clothes comes tumbling out onto the porch, staggering forward with wide eyes.

Siddiq is on her heels.

"Jocelyn— Jocelyn, you've lost too much blood! Michonne!"

Michonne races up the porch steps just in time to catch the woman before she falls down them. "Joss, what are you doing?"

"I have to go back!" she cries, her voice scratchy and dry.

Siddiq helps hold her up. "No, there's no way she can travel right now."

"I have to!"

"Where?" Carl asks.

"There are others!" she barks.

"What others?" Aaron asks her.

Jocelyn's body fails her, and she collapses into Michonne.

"Hey, you can not go out there like this," Rosita hisses.

"I have to find them..."

"Find who?" I ask.

"Joss, wait!"

"No, you don't get it!"

She threw everyone off her and stumbled off the porch, but Michonne caught her arm and spun her around to face us.

"Hey, hey! It's me. It's me. Talk to me. Tell me what you need."

"Mich... I need help."

It was a whole group of us that went when we heard there were kids out there on their own. Me, Carl, Michonne, Rosita, Gabriel, Eugene, Aaron, and Scott. Two of Jocelyn's kids came with us. Mitchell — he was the same age as Carl and me, quick on his feet and good with a knife. Winnie came with us, too. She was younger, not even ten, but Jocelyn told us she was good with a bow and insisted she went with us to show us the way.

We found the other kids. Four of them. All locked in the backroom of a factory with enough food to last a week. There were handmade snares and bows with roughly crafted arrows. The walls were decorated with instructions on how to hunt and gut different animals.

It was smart.

It made sense.

We took them back to Alexandria, and weeks went by. I was putting off going back to Hilltop since Maggie was still pissed at how long I'd been spending at Alexandria. Besides, I liked the new people. Jocelyn was clever, clearly as much of an academic before the fall as Michonne was. And her kids were sweet— sharp as knives —but sweet. One of them, PJ, had caught me picking away at my guitar on the bridge by the lake one hot summer's day and had asked if I could teach him.

That's where I am now, inside the Brownstone apartment sitting room.

"There you go," I laugh when PJ finally gets down the opening to Welcome To The Jungle. "Took me ages to pick that up."

"Really?" PJ gawks at me, looking proud of himself.

PJ had a unique face. Sunken eyes over a droopy expression, all kept hidden, most of the time, beneath long curly hair that was as red as paprika spices.

"Yeah, really," I admit. "This is only your, what, fourth lesson? I think it's fair to say you're a natural."

PJ grinned with wonky teeth. "Only because I have a rad teacher."

"Sure, sure," I say, getting up and rolling Michonne's desk chair back to its home, tucked neatly under her glass desk by the window. "Just remember me when you're rocking out on stage someday."

PJ smirks, leaning into the guitar and resting his chin on the body. "I don't think rocking out on stages will ever be a thing again."

"Sure it will," I say. "It'll be one of the first things we do once we make the world safe enough."

PJ shakes his head. "Jocelyn says we need to be strong in this world because the old one is gone."

I frown at the bummer attitude coming from the ten-year-old sitting in front of me.

"Tell that to the next Slash!" I snort, pointing at him and the guitar.

PJ grimaces, confused. "Who?"

"Jesus," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I'll lend you the album, dude."

PJ leaves, and I ride out the rest of the abusively warm day with Mikey under the cover of his porch with Gracie, who turned two yesterday.

"You still thinking of moving out?" I ask, watching Mikey hand a jar of apple sauce to Gracie, who desperately attempts to pry the lid from it.

Mikey nods, opening the jar for Gracie when she gets frustrated enough that she tries to break the glass against the decking.

"Aaron's still struggling," Mikey says. "Between this little rascal and managing applicants for this council Michonne's trying to put together, he's got his hands full." Then Mikey frowns at himself like he's an idiot. "Hand."

I chuckle, nodding in agreement, rolling one of Gracie's tennis balls between my hands.

Mikey notices my antsy hands. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I say. Then I shake my head. "I don't know what I'm doing here, M."

"You don't need a reason to be here," Mikey points out.

"Tell that to Maggie," I laugh anxiously. "With Carl gone, it feels like I'm just..." I trail off.

"You're allowed to be mad at him."

"I'm not mad."

"You're allowed to be, though."

"His dad's been gone for eight months. I can't get angry at him for looking..."

Mikey raises one of his thick eyebrows at my dry tone. "But?"

I groan. "But with Carl off in the woods with Daryl, I feel like I have to be here. I mean... Michonne is as pregnant as anyone has ever been right now. And she still somehow manages to run the whole place, create a democracy for Rick's new world dream, and make it home in time for dinner... least I can do is stay a while and help out with Jude."

"You sitting for her tonight again?"

I shake my head. "Jocelyn's hosting another one of her famous sleepovers tonight for the kids. Judith loves them."

Mikey clasps his hands over Gracie's ears.

"Are you mad?" he hisses. "Don't mention the S word... she gets jealous."

"Not mad."

"Michonne's okay," Mikey says, releasing Gracie when she tries to bite his wrist. "She's a superhero. Plus, she's got everyone else here that can help her when she needs it."

"When was the last time Michonne asked anyone else for help?"

Mikey's eyes shoot up like there might be an answer in his favour on the wood panelled ceiling. He frowns. "Never?"

"Never."

"I think having Jocelyn is helping," Mikey says. "Must be crazy to have a friend like that."

I squint at him. "I'm not a friend like that?"

Mikey's eyes go bulbous. "Don't twist my words, Washburne! I mean a friend that you've known forever."

I chuckle, scratching my chin and nodding at him. "She did help the other week when Michonne wanted to go out looking for Rick again."

"She did?"

I nod. "Jocelyn helped me talk her out of it. I think she was just having a moment. She knows she can't, not with the baby on the way."

Mikey looks relieved.

I give in. "You are right about Jocelyn, though. Not sure I've seen Michonne crack a smile since Rick. Then Jocelyn shows up and suddenly she's capable of laughing again."

"Once Michonne's had the baby, I'll go back to Hilltop."

"So you're already backing out 'your once-a-month visits' promise to Maggie?"

"She can think of it like an investment," I tell him. "I'll be home soon enough."

I wake up early the next morning. I have coffee and breakfast with Michonne, and she tells me that Aaron needs me to take over watch duty this weekend, and I nod along even though I promised myself I would go see Carl and Daryl before then.

I clean up the plates while Michonne heads over to Jocelyn's to collect Judith. I catch myself staring at the floor after I'm done. I do it more and more. You'd think I'd get over it. Over him. Lurking down there. But Negan always manages to sneak into my head, inside Alexandria or outside. Carl still visits him when he comes home. I still haven't. Haven't seen him since that last day of the war, the day Rick opened his throat and then saved him.

I drop a plate when I hear someone screaming. It shatters against the tile floor into a million pieces. I dance my way to the window to avoid shards of ceramic under my socked feet but see nothing. It's not until I have shoes on and am outside that I see Frankie. She's pale as a sheet, eyes wild.

"What's going—" I try to ask.

"My baby!" she howls. "Someone's taken my baby!"

They took them all.

Alexandria's children.

Anyone old enough to have been at that sleepover.

Jocelyn was gone, and so were they.

I've never ridden Downy Beardy harder. When I get to Carl and Daryl's camp it's empty. I scream their names. I cross the river, scratching my ankles on rocks and tripping in the water as I search. I scramble my way up a muddy ridge bank, grabbing at roots and vines as I climb until I find Daryl at the top. He's carrying an armful of cut logs, staring at me almost bemused until he sees my terrified expression.

Carl wasn't there. Daryl said he'd made his way down to the coast, following the river Daryl had followed only the day before, making sure he hadn't missed any signs of his father.

There wasn't time to get him.

It was just Daryl, Michonne, and me. We'd headed north — other teams taking different directions in an attempt to cover the whole state if they needed to.

Daryl had picked up on a trail about half an hour ago.

I tried to radio the others, but we were out of range.

We have to stop when Michonne starts clutching at her belly and hissing through her teeth. I see the sweat on her brow and tears welling in her eyes. Daryl must notice, too, because he points to a rusted swing set off the road up ahead.

"Let's take a break," he says gently.

Michonne grimaces but slowly takes a seat on one of the creaking swings. She's wearing one of Rick's old, dusty brown jackets.

"I know you wanna be out here," Daryl says. "But you got a baby, y'know?"

She shoots him a menacing glare.

Daryl holds up his hands apologetically.

We sit on either side of her, the swing set groaning under our weight but holding. We don't speak, though. What can you possibly say to make this okay?

Then Daryl thinks of something.

"We'll find her," he grunts. "We will."

I nod, keeping my eyes on the treeline like it might rush us.

"I can't believe this," Michonne sniffles. "She was a friend, you know? Like a real one. We went through everything together. Figuring out who we were gonna be. Heartbreak. My mom. I wanted her to be that again, you know? I needed it. I let my guard down, and now..."

"Hey, hey," Daryl soothed. "This ain't on you. Not even a little."

"I should've known, Daryl..." Michonne eyes were misty with swirling tears, her lip trembling. I put my hand over hers to do something for her — anything. She smiles at me, taking my hand and squeezing it tightly. But then her face is overcome with fright and shame. "I should have sensed something."

"You didn't 'cause you ain't like her," Daryl says. "Some people just got so much evil in their hearts, and they hide it like they're wearin' a mask or something."

"It's on her," I say. "We'll find them."

"We will." Daryl nods. "And she'll pay."

I think of Hershel back home, and if it was him out there. I grind my teeth, feeling sick at the thought.

"She will," I say.

Michonne takes a moment. She squeezes Daryl's hand and touches my cheek gently with the back of her palm. Then she's up.

"We should keep moving."

It's an old school house that the trail leads to. Daryl says the tracks stop outside the fence that wraps around the building. There are dead bodies outside under plastic tarps. We pass most of them — most of them small and broken bodies. They're too old to be any of ours, almost just bone now.

Michonne tells us to split up and find a way through the fence. It doesn't take long. I find a hole in the chainlink around the back, pushing past the rusted wire and raising my bow. Nothing.

Then.

"PJ!"

It's Michonne's voice.

I chase after it to an open door that leads me to a mess of dusty footprints on the floor of a classroom, all leading to the hallway.

That's where I find them, the door spitting me out beside Michonne.

Daryl's aiming his crossbow from further down the hall behind us. Michonne stands beside me, white knuckles clutching her sword, standing before all of Jocelyn's kids. All of them armed and ready for us.

"Where are my kids?" Michonne hisses breathlessly.

"Drop them," Mitchell says calmly. He's a similar age to me but bigger — broad-chested and tall.

"Just tell me they're safe," Michonne says.

Winnie looses an arrow. It whistles past my face. Daryl collapses to the ground behind us, roaring in pain, as it rips into his shoulder blade.

"I said drop it!" Mitchell barks.

Michonne does, laying her katanna down. I follow her lead, slowly setting my bow on the floor. Michonne tries to speak again, but I hear her gasp and hit the floor. I look up in time to see Mitchell's fist coming down.

And then everything is black.

A/N

It actually felt really good to be writing in the 1st person again. Slightly tempted to go back to it for the rest of the story.