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Bucket Hat — That part with Rhys helping Carl across the hopscotch of death was one of my favourite couple bonding activities they've done in a bit, aha.

-Carl-

That kiss.

Beneath the grass.

Behind those fences.

Dirt against my palms.

I don't want it to just be a friend thing.

"I'm hungry," I'd told him from that pit in my stomach I'd started digging when my mom died.

When I killed that boy.

Deeper and deeper, I fell into that pit.

He'd found me in the offices, counting fruit to look busy while I gave myself time to clamber up from that pit. I'd told him he was too good for me. I warned him I'd killed a boy. I'd tried to scare him away from the person who would spoil him— the pit that would consume his goodness.

He'd offered me a hand—

"There's no such thing as good or bad people anymore. They all died. And the rest of us? We're all just somewhere in between. We're the survivors. But you, Carl Grimes... you don't enjoy killing people. I can see that. And you also know that sometimes we have to make hard choices to protect the people we love. We may all be somewhere in between, but I believe you're closer to the former than the latter."

I was meant to cry. I was meant to swallow the jealousy that he was the person my mom described when she touched my cheek and spoke to me for the last time.

But I didn't.

I walked away from Rhys.

"Carl, wait..."

"I'm sorry I kissed you."

I closed the door behind me.

Tracks under my feet.

Smoke on the horizon.

The smell of our home burning lingered.

"You're dad was with Michonne. I know he's a fighter... he won't die easy."

"Everyone we know is dead. Our home burned to the ground! Karen is dead. Beth is dead. Hershel, Daryl, Tyreese, Sasha... they're all dead! My baby sister is dead! You don't know shit, Rhys! Who the fuck even are you? You got here a week ago, and you think you know my dad? Michonne? Me?"

"I only meant that—"

"Why do you have to be so positive?" I yelled at him. "It makes me sick. I hate that everyone's gone, and I got stuck with you."

I left him there that time.

I left him on the side of the road.

Bullets at our feet.

Yelling for our weapons.

Train cars ahead.

Maggie asked me inside if Rhys got out. I told her I left him on the side of the road. She looked at me the way I thought she would. She saw that pit. The same one I'd told Michonne I was certain about. I was just another monster.

We made it out.

Carol saved us.

We were back together.

Carol's face was ecstatic, ripe with tears.

"You have to come with me."

Tyreese was there. And Rhys was, too. My sister was in his arms.

He'd kept her safe. Somehow, in all that jealousy... in all that rage and dark dredges in that pit... he'd still managed to be better at it than me.

I thanked him that time.

The squirrels.

The feeling of being watched.

The priest.

Rhys explained a congregation to me. We'd become friends in the days since Terminus.

There was still so much I hated, while everyone else seemed to love him. Tyreese and him spent most of their time together. Maggie and Glenn treated him like they'd known him longer than the rest of us. He'd gone on watch with Rosita the other day... and he only met her a few days ago.

He even told my dad that we were strong enough that we could help people.

He told me about Carol. He told me how she and Tyreese found him after I left him— abandoned him. He explained what happened to Lizzy and Mika and how the three of them were getting through it together.

He told me that Carol admitted to killing Karen and David. Told him and Tyreese that it was her.

Rhys told me that they both forgave her.

He forgave her.

That wasn't right.

"I'm not used to friends," I told him.

It made him sad, and something about that made me angry.

"I know you're not used to losing people," I told him. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry. I was sorry that he made me feel something, and I ran away from it.

I didn't.

I couldn't.

The willow tree was perfect.

It was beautiful.

It was so unbelievably sad.

Carol stood by Rhys' side at Tyreese's grave, her arm around his shoulders, his head on hers. She handed him a knife, and he placed it on the grave, then a silver bracelet that I didn't recognise.

I wanted to say something.

But I guess he didn't need me then.

A video camera.

A comfy armchair.

A kind smile.

"My name's Deanna Monroe."

"Carl Grimes."

"Rick's son?"

I nodded.

"And who's this little ball of sunshine?"

"Judith."

"You're a boy of few words."

I nodded again.

"Rhys warned me."

"He did?"

It was her turn to nod.

"What did he say?"

"He spoke very highly of you. Told me you were his family. Said you were a kind soul."

"I'm not."

"I don't believe that."

"He's like you people. Everything bad that's happened to him... he somehow manages to smile through it."

"You sound angry about that."

"I'm jealous."

"Why?"

"Because that's not me."

"Do you spend much time with him?"

"No."

She waited.

"Because I don't want to spoil him, too."

Over the walls.

Deep in the woods.

Enid got it.

"I've never seen you smile like that?"

I frowned at her, not understanding.

"Like what?"

"Like that."

I still didn't understand, so I just told her that running from walkers made me laugh.

"We're supposed to feel like this, Carl."

"Breathless?"

"No, idiot. Outside. Free. I don't wanna forget. Running makes me feel better."

"I can't forget. I dream about being out here. In the forest with them."

"Are you alone when you dream?"

"Always."

"Is that okay?"

"What's the alternative?"

She looked away.

"Ron's a good guy."

"Doesn't matter."

"Why?"

"He won't make it. He's like Mikey and the rest of them."

"Think that's why Rhys has gotten so close to them."

"You think he's weak?"

"I just know he won't make it. I've known so many people who didn't make it. It wasn't because they were weak."

"I guess."

"I get why you're scared of me, Enid."

"Good."

"I'm scared of you, too."

"What happened to you?"

I told her the truth.

I'd been shot.

I'd been asleep.

Everything had changed.

Nine weeks had passed when I woke up. Ron was dead. Rosita had trained Rhys and Mikey how to kill walkers. The walls were expanding.

Rhys had asked to speak with me a few days into this new world.

"How long have you known?"

"I guess since we kissed."

"Oh."

"Don't worry, Grimes. I won't try it again."

He'd laughed.

I'd laughed.

"It doesn't bother me, Rhys."

"I didn't think it would."

"How long has Mikey known?"

"I guess since I kissed him."

The leather squeaked under me.

Animal heads watched from the walls.

The man across from me grinned.

"I'm just busting your balls, kid! C'mon, it's gotta be a girl."

I was quiet.

"The one Davey messed with, right?"

I was still quiet.

"Yeah, that's it. That's gotta be it."

"It's not."

"Oh, no?"

I was quiet again.

"That's a shame, Carl. But I get it. A badass like you doesn't need distractions! I see potential in you, kid. Daryl's gonna make a good soldier for me one day. You're dad's already getting me great shit. And you? One of my top guys one day... I can already see it in you."

The stench of the sewer still clung to my shirt.

The smoke of Alexandria's ruins filled my nose.

Rhys was crying.

"Why did you stay?"

He was holding the splintered remains of a guitar Noah got him.

"I don't—"

"Mikey's dead! He's gone..."

I wanted to do something. Hug him? Say something that made it better? I didn't know how.

Why did I decide to stay? I guess because it felt right.

"I'm sorry, Rhys..."

"Me, too... I'm sorry you didn't help him."

It felt right, staying there. Only, he didn't want me there anymore.

Our home was burnt, and we drove away from a gazebo that burned without anyone who tried to save it.

Mikey was alive.

Negan was bleeding out.

Michonne held Maggie down as she screamed.

"NO, HE CAN'T! NO, HE KILLED GLENN."

I saw Rhys through the crowd. I saw him draw his gun as Maggie screamed.

"WE HAVE TO END IT!"

I pushed my way towards him, wanting to say something to make him choose to stop— to make it not hurt. But Maggie's wails persisted.

"WE HAVE TO MAKE IT RIGHT! IT'S NOT OVER!"

There wasn't time for words. There wasn't time, and I hadn't earned those words.

I snatched Rhys' wrist just as he aimed his gun. His bullet hit the ground. I wrestled him to the ground as someone took his gun.

"I'm sorry!"

Rhys didn't care. He hated me.

"He killed him! HE HAS TO DIE!"

"We can't! We can't!"

"FUCK YOU. DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME. GET OFF ME! I HATE YOU!"

Years had passed.

Dad was gone.

It felt like everyone was.

"Come to visit me, Carl?"

He was still here.

"What's it now... third time this week?"

He couldn't leave.

"I wanted to get your thoughts on something..."

"Of course you do... who else would listen?"

"Fuck off, asshole."

"Oh, I can't... I'm locked up down here for good. You made sure of that. But you can leave, right?"

"I can."

"Don't lie to yourself, Carl. You locked yourself down here with me a long time ago. The only reason you come here is because we're the same. We're the same, Carl."

"You're... you're wrong..."

"Am I, though? I'm alone. Stuck here in nowhere. Nobody to talk to. You're the only one that bothers to visit anymore. But I guess that's because you've got nobody to talk to, either. You're alone, Carl. You're alone, and we're the same."

And he was right.

I'd realised, finally, that pit in my stomach I'd started digging all those years ago, it lead down here. Down here to nowhere with him.

A/N

Pfft, what to say about this one? Experimental as fuck, so I've got a lot of notes...

I wanted a chapter for Carl's comedown that Dante warned him about. I decided to do it like the Michonne drug trip episode, which I didn't really love, but hey-ho.

That Michonne drug trip takes her to the worst place possible for her, becoming that cold person she was among the dead, and killing the people she loves and dying without love.

So I had to think about what Carl's worst fear would be, and I think it's where this ended— that's his 'death.' He wrestles with the idea that he's similar to Negan a little in the actual timeline... that pit that he inevitably differentiates himself from with his loved ones. Take that away, and what do we get?! A depressing chapter, lol.

Putting that aside, I found it interesting the idea that without Carl, after the Prison, Rhys would have gotten closer to Carol. Also, without Carl, Rhys ended up a lot less... emotionally mature, I guess? I think it tracks... don't fight me, I'm tired.

Let's be honest, the real reason I wrote this was to get a chance to write more Deanna stuff... lord knows I never tire of her wisdom.

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get this out.

I'm literally editing the rest of the cave stuff right after this, so it will be going up very soon. Hopefully tomorrow.