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Bucket Hat— Honestly same. Magna grows on me a little bit as her story goes on, but her stealing stuff from the Hilltop for such a stupid reason and never getting in any trouble for it always felt wildly unfair.

"Shh..."

"First, we're gonna beat Daryl to death. Then we'll have the girl. Then the boy..."

"He's mine."

"I can't— I'm sorry... please don't..."

"Carl?"

Rhys sat up, clutching the bedsheets to his naked chest in an attempt to cover the goosebumps that had sprung from the cold night air. The room was dark. Massive and silent. There was a gentle breeze coming from the balcony's cracked open doors. Rhys had to squint to make out Carl's silhouette— only then, just able to make him out by the dim light of the moon slipping through the glass.

"I didn't kill him..." Carl's voice trembled, barely a mumble.

Rhys could make out something shiny gripped tightly in Carl's hand. He slipped his legs out from under the sheets, lowering his bare feet to the floorboards that groaned ever so quietly to his weight. The spot in the bed beside him was still warm from Carl— he hadn't been up long.

"I should have..."

"Carl?" Rhys said again.

Carl turned from the balcony doors, and Rhys saw him better from the way the moonlight caught his profile. The skin above the waistband of his underwear was flushed with goosebumps. His pale legs were the same, shivering as he stood by the open door. When the moonlight hit the thing in his hand just right, Rhys could make out his knife, and when his eyes adjusted better to the dark he could tell Carl was still asleep.

Rhys took a small step closer.

"Carl," Rhys whispered a little louder, trying to wake him.

Carl's fists were balled— his jaw was tense.

Rhys inched closer still. Suddenly, Carl lunged for him. Rhys almost lost his balance, stumbling back as he was caught off guard, but managing to redirect Carl at the bed, where he crashed into the post and tumbled to the floor. Carl's hand went for the knife he had dropped, but Rhys was quick to slide it out of his reach with his foot, dropping down to his knees and grabbing Carl's shoulders that were soaked with sweat yet ice cold; he started shaking him violently.

Carl gasped, staring at him, breathing a million miles a minute.

He yelped. "Rhys?!"

"I'm here," Rhys told him, trying to make his words calming despite his panic. "I'm right here."

"I don't—" Carl looked around the room like this wasn't where he was supposed to be. He was out of breath, and every part of his face was on high alert. "What happened?"

Rhys was out of breath, too.

The both sat there for a moment, catching their breath together.

Rhys hadn't let go of Carl's shoulders.

Carl stared at him, perplexed by his terrified expression.

"You tell me," Rhys puffed finally. Trying to recover your nerve after being attacked by your boyfriend in your own bedroom was apparently a somewhat challenging experience, he realised. "You were sleepwalking..."

They both sat there in silence, Rhys still not letting go like he was scared Carl might fall back asleep and attack him again.

"Are you okay?" Rhys finally asked.

Carl nodded, his breath back but still shaky. "Nightmares again. There was a road... a car..."

Rhys saw the tears building in the corner of his eye.

"He wouldn't let go of me," Carl cried, his voice breaking. "He was holding me down, and I couldn't do anything about it."

Rhys pulled him closer and held him tight. Carl wept into his shoulder, and Rhys held him as close as he could.

"You're not there anymore," Rhys whispered.

"I felt so helpless again," Carl choked back a sob.

"You're safe. You're at Hilltop, you're with me, and you are safe."

When Carl looked as if he believed that he was back in their room, Rhys quickly fetched him a drink from the metal pitcher on the dresser, holding it for him after he took a small sip.

"I haven't had nightmares about that for so long," Carl gulped, staring at the floor like he was ashamed by it.

Rhys raised the water up for him to drink again.

"Why are we on the floor?" Carl asked after swallowing, sitting up straight on the hard wooden floor that was starting to make Rhys' legs feel numb.

Carl wiped away the tears from his face, clearly thinking he looked stupid. Rhys, on the contrary, thought he looked so brave.

Rhys pulled a guilty face, feeling bad that he had to tell him.

"You kind of had a knife when I woke up."

Carl's eye went wide, looking Rhys up and down in a sudden panic. "I didn't hurt you?"

"No, no..." Rhys eased his nerves quickly. "I got it away from you."

Carl buried his face in his hands, groggily mumbling that he was sorry. He was still embarrassed.

"You don't ever need to be sorry with me," Rhys chuckled a little. "Do you want to try going back to sleep? ...You look so tired."

Rhys didn't mean for that last bit to sound so worried. But the truth was that it had been a long time since he'd seen Carl get a decent night's sleep. Carl's glum face said he knew it, too.

He shook his head anyway. "What if I try to hurt you again?"

"I'll stay up," Rhys told him. "I don't mind."

-Carl-

The dusty attic of Barrington House was cramped and the air was musty. It even smelled of dust. Grubby cardboard boxes were the main attraction — stuffed with xmas decorations or other useless objects that were lucky if they saw the light of day more than once a year.

Carl stopped at the top of the creaky steps, gripping the equally creaky bannister as he suppressed a sneeze against his shoulder. When he looked up, he spotted Eugene, sat in his rolling chair with a soldering iron in one hand while the other slowly twisted a dial on the radio set up on the table in front of him.

Carl offered him a tired smile.

"Greetings and salutations," Eugene said, sitting up straight and raising the welding mask off his face to reveal a puzzled expression. "Did you need to use the radio? I requested that Nabila give everyone the down low on how it's gonna be out of action for the next sixty or so."

Carl smirked, shaking his head when he notice a cobweb caught on the rim of his hat. "Nah, just came up to check on you. Apparently, you're taking members for the Hilltop AV club?"

"I'm afraid that club begins and ends with yours truly." Eugene's confused frown got frownier. "You won't be assisting with the wall today?"

Carl shook his head. "Didn't get much sleep, so Rhys has me on a strict no-leaving-the-house plan. Mandatory day off."

"I see. So you figured you'd come get a slice of Eugene? Understandable."

"I guess you can put it that way?"

Eugene kicked a matching spinny chair in Carl's direction, who stopped it with his knee before sinking into it and awkwardly wheeling himself over to the radio table.

"Is the welding mask necessary?" Carl quizzed, glancing at the soldering iron in Eugene's hand.

"Considering the last one sent the whole thing FUBAR... yes it is."

Carl nodded, shifting his head away from the spot on the radio Eugene was poking at.

"I'm on a tight schedule," Eugene murmured while Carl watched him work. "Rosita will be calling by noon."

"You spoke to her?"

Eugene nodded, not looking away from the slowly melting metal.

"How's everything back home?"

Eugene stopped momentarily to look at Carl, wiping the solder against a wet sponge set out for it. "I'm afraid I didn't get the chance to probe after anyone past her before things got sparky in here. Though, rest assured that I am sure she would have mentioned if anything had happened with RJ."

Carl nodded, not feeling much better about it.

"You can't stab a bug," Eugene said. "Tough as you are... and that's to say like nails. You can't assist back there. Not unless you play medic and assault."

"I don't even..." Carl trailed off with a wince.

"I'm saying don't worry."

'Easy for you to say,' Carl thought.

"Rosita's sick, too..." Eugene said it like he'd heard Carl's thoughts and deemed them wrong.

"I heard about how things went down between you two..."

"I feel a fool," Eugene said bluntly. "But sometimes the heart yearns after foolish strides... moments of vulnerability that could either win you a homerun or a winning right hook."

"But it didn't pan out," Carl said.

"It didn't."

"Then move on."

"Did you?" Eugene huffed defensively.

Carl frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

Eugene clicked his tongue in a disapproving manner, reaching his hand out and gesturing at a pair of pliers by where Carl's arm rested on the table.

Carl passed them.

"Years went by without you and Rhys wagging chins in person or pen," Eugene commented as he tugged at a burnt-looking wire protruding from under one of the many radio dials. "You never moved on. Never looked elsewhere..."

Nothing happened once the wire was free and Eugene pulled a face like something should have.

"Your point?" Carl asked.

My point," Eugene growled as he wrestled with one of the other dials, tossing down the pliers in defeat when the radio still didn't respond. "Sometimes, waiting works."

Carl chuckled, shaking his head.

Eugene squinted at him.

"And sometimes..." Carl said, reaching to the side of the radio closest to him, pinching two loose wires together before grabbing for Eugene's solder and melding them into one. The needles danced and the speaker crackled as the radio burst to life. "...you just need a second opinion."

"Sweet Meloni," Eguene exclaimed.

"You're welcome."

Eugene chuckled, clapping his hands together and pointing them at Carl. "Okie dokie, only fair I return the favour on your problem..."

Before Carl could ask, he flipped a switch on the radio, grabbing the dial next to it and twisting it all the way down.

"What are you—?"

"This is Eugene Porter, AKA Tater Bug... AKA the current operator of Hilltop's HAM radio. I am reaching out to Michonne Grimes. Please respond."

Carl winced at him, not seeing how this would help fix any of what he'd just unloaded on him.

"This is Luke, chief representative of Hilltop, and all round good-looking guy. Michonne's just clearing up some dead ones on the road ahead. How can I help, Eugenius?"

Eugene pushed his foot against the desk and wheeled himself far away from the radio, grunting at Carl and pointing to it.

Carl rolled his eye before scooting in front of the mic.

"This is Carl... is Judith there?"

"Hold on one moment, big brother Grimes. I'll pass you over to young Miss Grimes."

Carl pinched the bridge of his nose the same way his dad used to as he waited. He always caught himself doing it, not sure if he liked it or not.

"Carl?"

"Hey, Jude..."

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah... yeah..."

Eugene cleared his throat loudly behind him.

"Okay, not really..."

"What's wrong?"

Carl groaned, rubbing his face.

"There's a bug spreading back home," he said surgically, trying not to dish it out any way other than factual. "I'm starting to worry that I could be doing more back there than here, and... sorry, you don't need to worry about this."

"Why would you be more help back there? Are you a doctor now?"

"Ha... ha... ha..."

"Seriously."

"Thing is... I'm not sure if I'm being helpful here either."

"You didn't go there to be helpful."

"Well, I tried to."

Judith scoffed. "You went there for Rhys."

"Sure."

"You're staying there for him and Hilltop."

"I am."

"And you want to leave to help Alexandria."

"There a point coming, Judith?"

She giggled down the line at him, the HAM radio was much better sounding than their normal handhelds— her voice more than just static coming from humming plastic.

"Mom always says that you're like Dad... always doing things for other people."

"She said that?"

"She did. And we lost Dad because he was trying to help everyone."

Carl felt that clawing guilt in his gut that often came to him when Judith mentioned their father. That guilt that said he should have looked longer — looked harder.

"I was hoping you might find something for yourself at Hilltop."

Carl chuckled, a little lost. "Like what?"

"I dunno."

"Jude—"

"Are you sleeping better?"

"No, not really."

"I hoped you would."

"I'm coping."

"Maybe if you do something for yourself... maybe that would help you?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno," Judith laughed. "Do I gotta figure everything out for you?"