Reviews:
SlumberingVoid — We may indeed explore that when we get to the Commonwealth arc. Despite the shit I talk about the Commonwealth, I am quite excited to write certain characters into that environment. Plus... MERCER.
Acidrainbowii — I'm always happy to see a Mikey lover! He holds the most special place in this writers heart. That being said... I can't promise anything, muhahaha!
"You hungry?" Daryl asks Rhys, holding out a bowl filled with small, dried pieces of meat.
Rabbit, if Rhys had to guess.
"I'm fine," Rhys tells him, holding his backpack up and setting it on a small wooden shelf made from what he guesses to be the seat from a boat or something similar that is nailed to the wall above a crumpled sleeping bag. "I'm the one bringing you guys food."
Carl walks into the small lean-to den after that, pulling aside the blue tarp entrance and staring at Rhys like he's surprised, even though he really shouldn't be. Rhys is here a lot, maybe less now than he was a few months ago, but still, a lot.
Daryl leaves almost straight away, grabbing his paint-chipped crossbow from beside the exit flap of the den and walking off towards the adjacent river.
Carl takes off a heavy-looking poncho made from rough and dirty black plastic — not dissimilar from the one Daryl was wearing. His hair's long and messy, tangled at the front. His face has a short, blondish stubble on it now. He grins at Rhys, hugging him, smelling like firewood and wet dirt.
"How's everyone back home?" he asks, not breaking the hug. His voice is rough and clearly underused. Rhys figured that's what life with Daryl would be like.
"Good," Rhys nods into his shoulder. "I mean—"
Carl pulls away to look at him.
"Nothing," Rhys shrugs. "Everyone's good."
Carl nods, grabbing the bowl that Daryl had just put down on the floor and stuffing a handful of dried meat cubes into his mouth.
"Want some?" Carl asks with his mouth full and his arm extended.
"Sure," Rhys nods. He takes just one. "Rabbit?"
"Yep."
"Judith says hello," Rhys says quickly, feeling bad when Carl tenses up. "She misses you, man."
"I've only been gone a few months."
"Seven," Rhys corrects him. "Seven months and thirteen days."
Carl leans against a small table made from well-cut logs and tightly tied rope. There's a book on it that Rhys brought the last time he visited.
"Don't say it like that," Carl sighs, fiddling with the leather holder on his hip — his father's hand cannon roosted inside. Michonne found it a few weeks ago on a riverbed filled with walkers. She said Carl should have it. "I visit."
"I know," Rhys says, smiling kindly. "I understand why you're out here."
"We still haven't found a body," Carl tells him, pointing to a hand-drawn map pinned up on the wall behind Rhys that shows a layout of the rivers in the surrounding area. Certain spots are crossed out in red where they've searched. Other areas are circled to show where currents are stronger and more likely to pull things under — where bodies and driftwood from the bridge have built up into damns. "Michonne's not coming out here anymore, not with the baby."
Rhys laughs, shaking his head.
"What?"
"Jude is so excited to be an older sibling."
"Yeah, well, you tell her it comes with a lot of jobs," Carl snorts.
"I would tell her..." Rhys sigh. "But I'm not going back to Alexandria next."
"Really?"
"Hilltop's got a big scrap metal delivery coming up from the Kingdom... more shit for Earl to melt means more swords and tools and... well, you get it. Maggie wants me back for it. We're going to pick it up from Kingdom since they're really doing us the solid here. Maggie's going personally and wants me at home with Hershel while she's gone."
"He still growing?"
Rhys smirks, nodding and scratching his nails against the tree that their den is built against. "Only every day. It'd be good for him to see you. Maggie thinks he's still too small to remember faces, but I beg to differ. It's been a while since we've seen you at Hilltop."
"You sound like Michonne," Carl says. "Told me and Daryl there's plenty of reasons to come back and that finding something out here doesn't have to be one of them."
"She is right."
"I know..." Carl nods a few times, wiping mud from his palms against his even muddier jeans. "But I can't stop looking."
"I know," Rhys tells him. "And you know I'd be out here with you like I was that first month... I would if it wasn't for—"
"I know."
Rhys grabs his pack, fishing around inside. "I can't stay long... but long enough for..." he pulls out a razor, a pot of shaving cream with a bristled brush, and a pair of scissors.
Carl snickers. "Really?"
"Yup," Rhys says as seriously as one can say that word. "Just because you live with Daryl does not mean you get to be feral, too."
Carl tries to kiss him, but Rhys ducks out of the way.
"Woah now," Rhys says, fishing back into his backpack. "Not before this."
"No fucking way... you found toothpaste?!" Carl snatches the box out of his hand. "The tubed stuff?"
Rhys grins proudly at him. "I know the stuff Carol makes with soap doesn't last so long out here... so I talked to one of my guys at Kingdom about finding some."
"You traded for this? How much did it cost you?"
Rhys laughs in that you don't wanna know kind of way. "Let's just say I'm not going to college."
Daryl lights a fire when it gets dark. Rhys sits Carl down on a log opposite Daryl with the fire between them. Carl doesn't complain too much about the grooming, and when he has a clean shave and hair that doesn't reach his shoulders, Rhys knows he feels better about it.
Daryl smirks at him.
"Want me to do you next?" Rhys asks, pointing the scissors at him.
Daryl holds up his hands, tilting back on the log he's perched on. "Carol cuts it with her damn knife every time she visits... I'm good, man."
"She's been here recently?" Rhys asks, inspecting his scissors absentmindedly.
"Yeah," Daryl grunts, watching Carl check his reflection in his knife. "Between you and her, we got enough food here to start another community."
Rhys does accept food when Daryl offers this time, taking a small metal plate from him pilled with sliced snake roasted black over the fire.
"You make it out to Kingdom much recently?" Carl asks.
"No more than normal," Rhys says. "Visiting Henry and Jenny."
"How's she doin' since she lost her old man?" Daryl asks.
"Better," Rhys says. "She still has Pumpkin to keep her company."
"Pumpkin?" Daryl asks.
"Benjamin's old cat," Carl explains.
Daryl shakes his head, eating a handful of snake. "Kingdom and its damn cats."
"Carol's still sad you guys missed the wedding," Rhys adds.
"Yeah, she's mentioned." Daryl shrugs like he regrets it. "Still can't believe she let the King do anything that big."
"Aren't you and Rosita going to that bowling alley next week?" Carl asks, putting his plate down and licking his fingers free of snake fat.
"That was last week," Rhys says sweetly, not surprised anymore when the two of them get confused about the date. "It was fun. Sasha came. The floor wasn't slick, though, so the balls just kinda rolled, and we had to put the pins up ourselves. But it was fun."
Carl blushed a little at forgetting, nodding at his food.
"So Hilltop by the mornin'?" Daryl asks.
Rhys nods. "Gonna be weird."
"How long since you went back?"
"A month," Rhys sighs. "But that was only for a bit, and it was two months before that."
"You know you don't need to be at Alexandria as much as you are," Carl says.
Rhys shrugs. "It's important that we keep the communities talking, with Michonne and Maggie tenser than ever."
"How's Sasha doing?" Daryl asks, sitting up straight like that was the first question he was actually interested in.
"Still following me around like a damn bodyguard," Rhys laughs.
"Is it getting annoying?" Carl asks.
Rhys smiles quietly to himself. "Nah. It's nice to have someone that's always there, you know? Going between communities doesn't feel so alienating that way."
"Figured she'd be here," Daryl says.
"She's meeting me at Hilltop. Dusty got a nail in her hoof this morning, so she's giving her the night to rest. I also convinced her to accept Scott's invitation to dinner."
Carl and Daryl both goggle at him.
"What?" Rhys asks, clueless.
"Dinner?" Carl asks.
"...yeah?"
Daryl scoffs, tossing another log onto the fire.
"Dude, you're so clueless," Carl barks a laugh. "Dinner is one-million percent code for boning."
Rhys' eyes go wide.
"EW! No, gross. NO. What the hell, guys..."
"Just cos' your sister's with you all the time don't mean she tells you everythin'," Daryl says.
"Dinner," Carl laughs, shaking his head.
"Okay, no," Rhys argues. "Sasha doesn't care about relationship stuff. She's like Daryl."
Daryl scoffs.
"Sure..." Carl says.
"I've asked her about Scott before," Rhys tells them. "She told me she's got no interest."
The two leave it.
Rhys stands up. "Anyway, I should probably get going."
"So soon?" Carl asks.
Rhys nods. "You could always come with me. Just for a few days."
"You know I can't," Carl sighs, not looking as guilty as he sometimes does.
"A few days won't hurt."
"They might."
"Daryl?" Rhys looks to him for support, but the man stays quiet.
"Okay," Rhys sighs, realising he should know better. "Okay, I get it. But it was worth a shot."
"Sorry," Carl says.
"Don't be sorry," Rhys tells him sweetly. "I'll be back when I can."
"Is it a good idea to travel at night?" Daryl asks, watching Rhys walk over to the edge of the fire's dim glow where Downy-Beardy is hitched to a maple tree.
"Most of the walkers in the area got taken out by the bridge," Rhys says. "And we keep the roads pretty clear between here and the communities."
Carl stands up, and Rhys puts a hand flat against his chest before he can even think about trying to kiss him. "You brush your teeth?"
Carl grins at him. "Four times."
So they kiss, and Rhys takes a little longer to pull away than he normally does, thanks to the spearmint on Carl's breath. Daryl starts setting down a sewing kit he's using to fix a hole in his vest before trying to stand to hug him, but Rhys waves him off, chuckling.
"I'll see you guys soon."
Daryl nods, gratefully. "Be careful out there."
"I'm supposed to be telling you guys that," Rhys sighs, letting Carl help him haul up into Downy-Beardy's saddle.
"Hey," Carl says, resting a hand on Rhys' knee. "I'm real happy you're trying to keep the communities together— y'know, after everything with Negan, I'm glad you care about that. It's what my dad wanted us to be doing."
Rhys smiles down at him, putting his hand over Carl's on his knee and squeezing gently. "This is important, too."
Carl nods, then lets go of his leg and watches with Daryl as Rhys and Downy-Beardy slowly canter off into the darkness.