Announcement:

Now that we're into season 6, the threat of a horde imminent, wolves in the woods, and whistles echoing over the hills- I want to announce what I'm sure most of you have been wondering- Carl will not die in this story. I will still be following the tv show storyline completely, but I will work Carl into it.

Also, I know I said the last chapter was the season finale- which it was. But this chapter is more finale-like.

Carl and I sit in the hallway, our knives out, surrounded by quiet. Neither of us dares to speak, the tension so high it might fall on us if we do. A knock at the back door sends us reeling.

"I'll check it," Carl mutters.

I'm going to argue, but-

"-Protect Judith," Carl finishes.

"Okay," I nod, watching as Carl descends the steps.

The second he's gone, my head turns to quicksand. I sink into its thoughts, drowning in worry. I worry about the shot. If one of us tried something and it was them, someone could be dead.

Rick - Glenn - Abraham.

If Rick couldn't make them see, and one of us fired the shot, any one of them could be dead too.

Jesse - Deanna - Reg.

"Rhys," Carl calls up the stairs gently, throwing a rope into my mind and hoisting me free from the thoughts of death. "You can come down."

I do, gingerly descending the stairs. When I reach the last one, Carl is staring at me like he's seen a ghost. His cheeks are pale, and his eyes concerned.

Voices are coming from the kitchen, talking of things I don't understand. I listen anyway.

"-Where was this trap?" Rick's voice comes first. A breath I didn't know I was holding is released when I grasp that he's not been shot or thrown out.

"-Del Arno Foods, some supply warehouse," Daryl speaks next, confusing me, considering he's meant to be on a recruitment mission with Aaron for a few more days.

"-I was just passing by, figured they could use a hand."

The last voice is that of a man, soothing and deep. I don't know it, yet it somehow reminds me of something I can't seem to remember.

I follow Carl through to the kitchen.

My eyes fall to the new man- to the stranger.

He's cleanly dressed in a canvas shirt, his hair buzzed short, a backpack beside his stool, a strong looking stick beside that. He's eating a bowl of beans.

But my heart stops.

My knife slips from my hand, clattering to the floor.

The three men sitting at the kitchen island turn to look at me.

"You good?" Carl puts a hand on my shoulder.

"I- I don't-"

I'm staring at the man, and he's staring back at me, burning a hole in my head until his eyes go wide and he finally recognises me.

"Do you two...?" Daryl trails off, picking up on the exchange, looking at us over his own bowl.

"We do," the man nods, then smiles- it scares me backwards, even taking me a few steps in that direction, but Carl's hand keeps me in the room.

My hand subconsciously jumps up to the scar just below my hairline, where his rifle had hit me so long ago.

He squints like he's in pain. "Yeah, sorry about that," he motions to it.

"How did you get here?"

That is the first question I ask, the only one I can manage, my head spinning in every direction all at once.

Carl and Rick are squinting at me, a father and son squint, one of the traits they share most in common. They look like they're angry that I didn't tell them about him.

"The long way round," he smiles again as he answers my question, the look still scaring me.

"How do you know each other?" Rick gets tired of being in the dark.

When I don't answer, the crazy man does. I realise he's probably not crazy though, he can't be. He's here eating beans and talking to Daryl and Rick.

The not-so-crazy-man speaks.

"We, um, see, we met back home- back in King County... I sent him away, after-" the man points to his own forehead in relation to mine. "Sorry again. I sent him away... I don't remember where."

I find my voice. "You sent me to the prison..."

"I did," he nods like he's finally remembering that lifetime. "You got older."

"Wait," Carl shakes his head, almost as confused as me. "He's the crazy man you told me about? The one that sent you to us?"

I nod.

The not-so-crazy-man chuckles.

"He's the crazy guy I shot..." Carl tells me. "The one I told you about!"

Carl puts a finger to his chest, telling me slowly, "I'm from King County. That's my home!"

I'm pretty sure my head is broken, like, maybe I fell asleep on the landing, and this is all fake- it's all just another one of those dreams where people that are definitely dead show up to give me advice.

"Maybe we could stop with the calling me crazy?" the not-so-crazy-man asks.

"I don't know your name..." I stammer.

"I don't know yours-" he replies, smiling again. "I'm Morgan."

"Rhys."

I need air.

I Practically sprint from 101 after Rick overwhelms me with even more things... he told me Ron's dad is dead, Mikey's dad too. Pete killed Reg with Michonne's sword, slit his throat in front of his whole family. Rick said he killed Pete after- a bullet to the head on a sobbing Deanna's orders.

It took me a while to comprehend it. The doctor killed Deanna's husband then Rick killed the doctor.

I pace the dark streets, trying to find an outlet for my jumbled thoughts. The air outside bites at my fingers, so I cup my hands to my mouth and breath hot air into them, stuffing them into my pockets to keep them warm.

My head is on rewind, sending me back to that town, King County, Carl's home. Now the man that had threatened me is here, sitting inside my home and eating beans... I suppose he did save me back then.

Turning the corner of a street, I see the infirmary light is on. I head towards it, wanting to tell Rosita what happened. Maybe she can wake me up if this is a dream.

I walk in, shutting the door quickly and hugging myself, wishing I'd worn my poncho.

When I take in the room, I'm stunned.

Overwhelmed.

My half-pieced together mind, shattering all over again.

Tara is sitting up in her bed, staring at me with wide eyes, no longer unconscious. I really must be dreaming.

The grin that spreads across my face is instant and infects my whole body, almost sending me flying through the air with relief, but the words that come from Tara freeze me to the spot, draining the joy from me, pouring it down the gutter like bloodstained rainwater when I hear her speak.

"Who... erm, who are you?"

Tara is staring at me with a blank expression. Rosita isn't in the kitchen-turned infirmary. Seeing Tara awake is a relief. The realisation of her not having any recollection of us is terrifying.

"Uh..." I stutter, considering pinching myself.

Suddenly the bathroom door opens, Rosita steps out, drying her hands on her shirt. "Hey," she nods at me, stopping when she sees how stunned I must look. Rosita glances at Tara, then back to me, piecing it together.

"Don't be an asshole," Rosita chuckles at her.

Tara's face cracks to a smirk, turning into a full grin. "Gotcha!"

I'm still stuck to the spot, my brain trying desperately to pick up more confusing puzzle pieces, my legs freed when it finally does. The same legs take me running at Tara, full speed, crashing into her with the most exuberant hug I can muster.

"Cuidado!" Rosita yells at us from the kitchen as she puts a kettle on.

"You dick!" I laugh into Tara's shoulder.

Tara holds me back a little weaker. She says, "You really think I could forget team-grr?"

When I pull away finally, Tara winces, trying to sit up, Rosita and I helping her when she struggles.

"How long have you been awake?" I ask, rubbing away forming tears on my sleeve.

"About ten minutes," Rosita answers for her, pulling Tara's blankets up for her when she shivers.

I sit on the end of Tara's single bed, Rosita falling into a chair beside it and asking. "You hear that gunshot?"

I nod, looking between the girls. "Pete killed Reg..." I shudder at the thought, saying it makes it worse. "Rick killed Pete."

"Oh."

They both say it at the same time. Similar expressions of dread on their faces. Tara probably feeling guilty about the joke now.

I'm about to say something else when the infirmary door whips open, Glenn and Nicholas stumbling through, both covered in blood.

I jump up from the bed, more out of fright than concern, which quickly becomes just concern when I spot the gunshot in Glenn's shoulder.

Rosita rushes to Glenn's side, steadying him by the shoulders as Nicholas collapses into an empty infirmary bed.

"You guys look like shit," Tara states it like they don't already know. Both of them stare at her, and I get to see how starstruck I looked when I came in.

Glenn laughs in disbelief, stumbling closer to her but leaning against a side table when he runs out of energy. Clutching his weeping shoulder.

"Tara?" Maggie's voice comes from the entrance. She's standing in the doorway, looking flustered.

I start to wonder if the whole community will show up, the six of us cramping up the room.

"I'm okay," Tara sounds out of breath as she smiles lightly towards Maggie. "You just check on them."

When she notices that Glenn is bleeding and wheezing, Maggie rushes to check on him, only for her husband to tell her that the wound is just a graze, a ricochet. Nicholas keeps giving him shifty side-eyes as Rosita treats his cuts and bruises.

Now used to the claustrophobic room, I barely flinch when Eugene walks in, arms unmoving at his side as he rushes to Tara. "Holy shit."

Tara looks up at him, and for a second, I wonder if she'll pretend to have amnesia again, instead though- "Thank god..." she smiles, "nothing happened to your hair."

Eugene grins down at her, a type of smile I've never seen from him before. Tara neither, I guess, since she says, "Okay, Eugene's freaking me out..."

I laugh. Glenn and Maggie smile at her. Rosita shakes her head, mumbling something in Spanish under her breath. Even Nicholas cracks a small, constrained smile.

As Eugene keeps grinning, Tara looks around at us all, "Does someone want to send Noah in here to protect me?"

Maggie explains Noah's death to Tara, and she cries. We all watch her cry, listening to her mourn something we've all already mourned, feeling sorry for her that she has to do it alone now.

Maggie sends me home, I tell her I want to stay, but Rosita backs her up, insisting I can visit in the morning.

I leave, taking a long way home in protest, walking around the still and silent lake and across Alexandria's overgrown park, an area that's planned to be farmland.

I pass by the town gazebo, spotting Carl and Enid sitting on top of it and staring out over the neighbourhood, holding hands as Enid plays with a zippo lighter.

I smile, glad that they're safe and not alone.

A branch snaps past a bush behind me. I spin, not sure who I expect, not ready when Ron steps from the shadows.

"Busted," he whispers.

I go to chuckle but catch myself when I remember what just happened. "Sorry about your dad," I say instead.

Ron shrugs before adjusting the beanie on his head, covering his eyebrows, cowlicks sticking out at the back.

"Why do you look sadder than me?" He deflects.

I furrow my brow, "I look sad?"

"I can read between the lines."

I let my shoulders drop after realising they were tensed.

"A guy that I've met before just showed up... also Gabriel almost killed Sasha... then Sasha almost killed Gabriel." I take a breath to think. "Oh, and I just prayed for the first time since I was a kid, Tara's awake and Glenn's been shot. Think I'm just overwhelmed."

Ron tilts his head at me like a confused puppy. "Someone you know showed up?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Good or bad?"

"I don't know yet," I shrug, tugging on my ear when it annoys me. "I only knew him for a day."

"A day is a lifetime nowadays," Ron points out.

The last person I expected to be venting to is Ron, but I keep going. "I don't know if I'm scared of him. I'm not sure if he was scared of me."

"Why don't you ask him?" Ron shrugs my shrug back at me, like some game of shrug-catch.

"Good question," I shrug back to him.

Ron drops the shrug, noticing the game. "That sucks, right?" He nods to Carl and Enid, still sitting on the gazebo roof.

I'm suddenly lost, asking, "What sucks?"

"My girlfriend and your boyfriend are holding hands."

"Oh..."

"It sucks," Ron says again like he's trying to teach me something.

"Not really... they're friends."

"Right..."

I roll my eyes at him, deciding to show him my point instead of telling him.

I grab his hand, pulling him towards Carl and Enid.

He pulls back, turning our shrug catch into a tug of war. "What are you doing?" he grunts as I pull.

"Let's go sit with them."

"Why?"

"Do you really want to be alone right now?"

Ron stops resisting, looking a little bit knocked off balance by my question. While he stands disarmed, I pull him, holding his cold hand and leading him to the gazebo, both of us climbing it, sitting beside the other two in an impossibly comfortable silence.

The four of us look out over the community, letting the twilight air freeze off the crazy night.

Next time: Rhys gets a chance to vent to a new face, something is returned, and a long due conversation is had.

A/N

I'm trying next times, because why not?