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SlumberingVoid— Mikey and Marco's relationship is definitely one that's happening behind the scenes for the most part, but I still enjoying dipping into it every now and then. I seem to remember someone theorising earlier on that Rhys and Mikey would get together if Carl died in the Savior arc. It's a funny one because I started Mikey as a mirror of what Rhys was before everything that happened to him between the prison and Alexandria. That hopeful part of Rhys that used to be his defining trait but ended up getting squashed by the world. So I do think that if Rhys had somehow found Alexandria first, he and Mikey would have made a very sweet pair... but alas that is a fanfiction of a fanfiction all on its own.

Rhys and Sasha rode into Oceanside just after dark, dirt kicked up by thundering hooves.

They had heard the meteor hit the earth maybe twenty minutes ago.

Only it wasn't a meteor.

"A what?" Sasha yelled over all the people shouting and rushing to fill wagons with buckets of water and sand from the beach.

"A satellite," Michonne repeated, grabbing a shovel from the ground and handing it to someone rushing by. "That's what Eugene and Mikey said over the radio."

"How the hell—?" Rhys started.

"Don't matter," Daryl said, tossing Sasha a heavy fire axe to replace her battle-suited one. "We gotta stop this."

It was just like last winter. They had to cross into Alpha's land now. If they didn't, the fire started from the crash would spread right through their hunting grounds and into Oceanside. They could see it over the treeline, a thin plume of black smoke.

"Help gather sand!" Sasha barked sharply at a few people who were standing around gawking at the distant blaze. Then she turned to the rest of the crowd. "We're gonna need a burn line when we get there! Alden, I want you to lead a group of about twenty— start thirty yards from the fire and make a trench. Make it deep, then light it up so the spreading flames don't jump it."

The wagons could only make it as far as a road that acted as one of Alpha's borders. There was a ravaged deer carcass on the asphalt that Carol seemed to stare at as everyone else unloaded water and sand from the wagons. When they reached the fire, they could see the dented satellite sitting in the middle of the roaring flames, just like Michonne said.

"Start on the outside," Sasha yelled. "Push in on it."

Rhys could almost see the smug look on Deanna Monroe's face as he watched Sasha spring into action with all her long ago training from years of being a firefighter.

"It's going to be a long night, son," Rhys heard Earl say to Alden. "A long hot night."

It was hell.

The flames burnt as high as the trees. The heat they gave off blackened and burnt Rhys despite his distance all the way back at the burn line. He could see that the people closer— tossing buckets of sand to smother the flames or spraying water in an attempt to reduce the burn —were struggling.

Everyone worked as hard as they could for as long as they could. Carl pulled Rhys away from the smoke when he started retching and puking up black bile.

"Take a break!"

"I'm fine!"

Rhys shrugged Carl's grip from his shoulder and went back to hacking at the ground to carve out the trench Sasha had demanded. Carl glared at him but kept digging, too. They had to.

Rhys fucking hated fire. He had forgotten how much after weeks at sea. Even after the harsh winter, it still made his skin itch to feel the uncontrolled heat. He had lost so much to it. Friends. Homes. His humanity. After all this time, it still managed to burn away at him.

Rhys struck the ground harder and harder with each swing, taking out his anger on it. He knew he could. The earth was forgiving in that simple way. Though when he slipped on uneven ground and Ezekiel caught him, and he took his anger out by yelling that he was fine, Ezekiel's face was far less forgiving.

Thick, suffocating smoke circled around their tools as they swung. Ash sprayed off the ground and into their faces with each hit. The skin of their necks burnt and cracked from floating embers settling from the poisoned night air.

Magna almost caught Kelly's shoulder with one of her swings, calming down when Yumiko yelled at her to cool it.

Walkers started to trickle in— most likely following the noise of the crash. The sonic boom would probably cause them walker problems for months, but they didn't have time to think about it, and right now they could handle the few that had been drawn to the crash site.

Aaron passed out torches, and they lit the trench so the fire couldn't spread.

Just like Sasha had said.

And it worked.

They had been working for hours. Everyone was running on fumes. The morning light was beginning to spill through the unburned trees overhead. They were still working, though. Still fighting back the flames from the satellite. Rhys could feel the burns on his face, his hands, and his neck. But he kept going like everyone else.

The walkers started to grow in numbers— pouring in from the trees with ash coating their grey skin.

Oceanside brought everyone their weapons in pushcarts they had managed to manoeuvre through the forest, and Carl tossed Rhys his spear before putting on his holster and grabbing his machete.

Sasha, Michonne, and Daryl had been working harder than anyone through the night, but it barely showed as they grabbed their weapons and started to fight back the dead.

Rhys struck one down on his way to one of the weapon caches, its skin was crisped and burnt from the fire line it crossed.

"You got my knives?" Rhys asked Cyndie as she handed Connie and Kelly their slingshots.

She nodded, digging around before pulling out his leg holster loaded with its polished blades.

Rhys quickly put it on, rushing back into the smoke to find Carl.

He found Sasha instead, hacking apart a walker she had pinned on the ground.

"Remember what I said?" she retched, coughing out thick smoke.

Rhys nodded as he too choked on the embittered air. "Watch their hands."

Rhys poked through two with his spearhead before losing Sasha again. One too many walkers swarmed him, and his spear was knocked from his hands into the thick smoke swirling around his ankles. Rhys staggered back, tossing one knife after another, striking down another two walkers as they emerged from the haze. It was getting harder to see. Harder to breathe. After using his last knife to take down another, Rhys fell to one knee, feeling himself getting weak as he coughed up swampy and rattled breaths. He felt around in the dirt for his spear, wheezing as he desperately searched.

He suddenly felt someone under his arm, lifting him to his feet.

"Sasha, I'm fi—"

But when he looked, he saw Carol. Her face was black with soot that smudged down her cheeks on beads of sweat. She pulled him back from the snarls and snapping teeth hidden in dense fumes. A walker cut them off, and Carol let go of Rhys for a second to dodge the clawing hands and grab its scruff before slitting the walker's throat and using the blood from its draining jugular to douse a still burning fire. She grabbed Rhys again, and they found the edge of the smoke together, collapsing at the base of a burnt tree in a heap of each other's limbs.

"Are you— okay?" Carol spluttered.

Rhys nodded frantically, scrambling to his knees to puke into the dirt. "Fine. I'm fine."

"Good," Carol coughed.

"We should get back out there," Rhys said.

Carol nodded, but when they looked, it was over. The last few stragglers were crushed by a falling tree after Daryl flung an axe into its crisped bark.

Earl rushed to their side when he saw both Carol and Rhys lying splayed out in the dirt, holding a canteen of water and shoving it in their faces.

Maybe half an hour later, the Alexandrians arrived to help ferry the wounded from the burn site. The fires were out, and the walkers dead, but Eugene and Mikey seemed equally flustered as everyone else was last night as they hopped down from their wagon that they had somehow managed to squeeze through the forest and rushed towards the fallen satellite.

Rhys was going to say hi, but Mikey didn't even notice him or Carl sitting on the burnt stump of the tree Daryl toppled as he scrambled towards the satellite.

"Eugene, Mikey, let's go!" Michonne barked.

"Give him ten minutes!" Mikey yelled back.

"Negative," Eugene said over his shoulder as he dug through the wires spilling from the satellite's belly. "I'll be needing a round twenty here."

"You get zero," Michonne snapped back. "We gotta go now!"

"Fine, ten!"

"No!"

"We should excavate and transport this satellite to our vehicles!" Eugene continued to argue over his shoulder. "I believe there may be invaluable technological implications for our communities if I'm able to retrieve any of the useful bits from inside. I'm not asking."

"Oh my god."

"Michonne, please," Mikey said, handing Eugene a screwdriver from his satchel when he held out a hand and grasped at the air.

Michonne rolled her eyes.

"Yumiko, Luke, Magna, everybody, come on, we're helping them with the satellite. Five minutes and out."

Rhys went to stand up, but Michonne pushed him back down onto the trunk without much effort.

"Sit your ass down and rest," she said, letting a small smirk sneak onto her face. "Good to see you back."

"This might buy us some goodwill with the Whisperers," Carl said, patting Rhys' back when he started coughing again.

"We helped our people," Michonne said, glancing at the trees that survived the fire. "That's enough good for me for now."

"I miss the water," Rhys groaned into his knees while Carl rubbed circled into his back.

Michonne paused. "Where are Carol and Daryl?"

Carol and Daryl had gone to investigate where Alpha kept her horde.

It was gone.

But Carol said she saw Alpha out there.

Watching from across the ravine.

The Whisperers knew they had crossed the border now.

There was no turning back.

Back at Oceanside, while everyone prepared for the journeys back to their respective communities to spread the news, Rhys stood on Oceanside's beach, watching the waves lap against smooth rock and the seagulls float on calmer waters further out, a handful of sand between his fingers.

Rhys looked further — to the horizon.

"Rhys!" Henry barks at me from the living room, where he's hunched over a green notebook with a fluffy pink flamingo pen in his hand. I can see him from the kitchen, where I'm making up two plates of leftover sweetcorn and mushrooms from last night's meal.

"I'm literally here, dude," I say, holding up a fork and waving. "Don't need to yell at me."

"I'm doing this project for school," Henry says like I hadn't spoken.

"...Right."

"It's dumb. We've got to write about bigraphy about interesting people."

"Biography."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Can I do it about you?"

I stop, staring at him for a minute. He stares back, our faces the complete opposite. He looks hopeful. I'm ready to start laughing.

"You what?" I ask to make sure I heard him right.

"Pleaaaase?" Henry begs. "I just need to interview you for like... a bit."

"Why don't you do it about someone... y'know... interesting?"

"There are only so many books in our library. They've all been done! Nadine in my class is writing about Black Beard. I wanted Black Beard!"

"So you thought... what's the next best thing after Black Beard the Pirate King? I know... Rhys!"

"You've been outside the walls!"

"So has your brother... ask him."

"You lived outside."

"Henry," I groan.

"Oh, did I mention Ben said you have to? Otherwise, he'll make you go to choir again."

I frown at him, bringing our plates over and sitting down beside him on the shaggy sofa. He's grinning as he takes his, knowing he's won.

"Fine," I sigh.

"Yes!"

Henry flips open his notebook, and I wait nervously.

"Okie dokie... what's your name?"

I throw a piece of sweet corn at him.

"Just answer the questions!"

I sigh again. "Rhys Washburne."

"Thank you," He hums, jotting that down. "Question tres."

"Dos," I chuckle.

"Huh?"

"Never mind... shoot."

Henry reads the question again before saying it. "How old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?"

Henry glares at me. "This really is going to take a long time if you don't just answer."

"Sixteen."

"What colour hair do you have?"

"Seriously?"

"It's kinda hard to tell."

"Dark brown... well, more black... but it goes brown in the summer."

"How?" Henry asks.

"That one of your questions or just curious?"

"Curious."

"I don't know. It just does."

Henry nods, writing that down despite telling me it's not on the list. "How tall are you?"

"Five-six."

Henry snorts as he writes that one.

"I'll kill you," I warn him.

"Uh-huh," he says, unconcerned as he raises his blonde eyebrows. "What's your best memory? After the fall, obviously. Don't want to bore our audience."

"I don't know... I've got a lot."

"Really?" Henry sighs. "Just pick one."

"Well, there was this one time that I was on a bus with some of my best friends. One of them I'd just met, and she was making fun of my other friend's hair."

"Why?"

"He had a mullet."

"Is that the one that goes all the way back?" Henry asks, motioning at his own head with his hands.

I nod, grinning. "Party in the back."

"What happened?" Henry asks.

"The bus exploded. I robbed a pharmacy. We caught a fish."

Henry writes all this down with a giddy expression.

"Eye colour?"

"I thought we were done with the boring questions..."

"I figured I'd mix them up."

"Green."

"Favourite food?"

I hold up my already-finished plate. "Sweetcorn."

"Last one," Henry says once he is done writing the last answer. "What about your family?"

"What about them?" I ask. "My mom was a war correspondent, and my dad—"

"What's a war correspondent?" Henry interrupts.

"It's a journalist in countries that are at war."

"Britain was at war before the fall?"

"No, dumbass," I laugh. "She travelled to other countries."

Henry frowns down at his book. "You never saw your parents again after the fall, did you?"

I shake my head.

"That's a long time to be without family."

"I wasn't always," I say, being careful not to give away Alexandria's existence after my pact with Morgan. "I found a new one."

"You did?" Henry clicked his pen.

I nod. "There was a couple... they took me in. I guess, in a way, they were more of a family than my parents were."

"How so?"

I shrug. "They were there for me. Never left me. Helped me through the harder parts of being outside the walls."

"Was it hard losing them?"

I'm quiet.

Henry watches me. "What did you do when you lost them?"

Rhys heard Carl call him from further up the beach.

"Time to go."