Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Your gun's loaded?"

"Yup, definitely," 

Carl nodded, and they kept sitting on the fallen log, as if they hadn't noticed the stranger. A bold move to appear walking along the field, right in their field of vision.

"Should I kill him?"

"What! No!" Eleanor turned to him with a whisper, "Let's wait... maybe he was the one that left the bottles of water on the road. He must have something to say,"

"Why am I not surprised, should we invite him for breakfast?"

Eleanor rolled her eyes and nudged him. They waited, and as soon as his face could be clearly seen, he waved. 

Fucking waved. 

"Hey um... I-I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said with a smile.

Clothes were clean and new, hair trimmed, and he was clean. His smile was charming, it almost made him look as if the outbreak never happened. Shit! Was that a wrist watch!

"Good morning," he said with an awkward laugh. 

"Good morning," answered Eleanor, and lifted her gun. The stranger immediately nailed himself to the ground, and raised his hands, "Who are you?"

"My name is Aaron," he leaned in, and smiled again. Eleanor wasn't sure what to make of it, if this was a Garreth.... or a door-to-door salesman. "I-I know, stranger danger but... I'm not here to harm you. I'm a friend," 

Right. 

"Well friend, if that's the case you wouldn't mind if we kept our guns up... as a friendly precaution," she commented with a smile. 

The stranger huffed a half-laugh, but she could see Carl lifting his own hand gun from the corner of her eye. The stranger swallowed. 

"What are you here for?" Carl asked. 

"I-I would like to speak to the person in charge... Rick, right?" 

"How do you know his name?"/"what for?"

They talked at the same time. The stranger let his hands fall a little and he straightened. Eleanor frowned, it almost looked as if...

"Well, I need to speak to him. I have good news," he announced. 

"...what good news?" Carl insisted. 

Aaron shrugged and leaned his head to the side, "Well.... I would like to tell everyone, if I can," she let out a loud sigh. 

"You're going to regret this, salesman," 

"...S-salesman?" he frowned, confused. 

"Carl, search him,"

The teenager moved forward to tap him. Soon he found a pocket knife, and a handgun. 

"I'll take your bag too, better now than later," he whispered, and Aaron let him with a bored expression. 

"Oh don't give us that look Mr. Salesman," Eleanor said with a predatory grin, it caught Aaron's attention, "You want to meet Rick, there are some ground rules. Number one, don't speak on your own... just answer questions. Number two, make slow movements, keep your hands where all can see them at ALL times. Number three, Don't assume he'll be friendly," Her grin turned welcoming. "Follow these rules, unless you want to be treated roughly," 

"I know, you are not trying to scare me. You are Eleanor, right? You are friendlier than the others," 

He stopped talking when he felt the barrel of a gun against his nape.

"Say that again," Carl urged behind him. 

"Well... that might have been your impression," she moved to pull the gun away, "probably, you think I'll vouch for you with Rick. It's a pity, though.... you are on your own, so don't mess up," 

He nodded, still shaken by the gun. Eleanor shot a glare at Carl who raised an eyebrow and shrugged. 

Seriously, this kid. 

Eleanor walked to the door of the  barn and for a moment debated on how to get their attention. Rick's face popped in her mind, and she kicked the door with force. 

"Hey! Open up! I have a thing!" 

Michonne was the one to open up with a very confused frown. At the sight of the stranger, she wide-eyed and then glared at them. She called for Daryl and they opened the doors. 

"Remember the rules Mr. Salesman," 

The atmosphere was very tense. 

The moment Eleanor, Carl and the stranger danger Aaron Salesman entered the barn, there were a couple of seconds of shouting, then a couple of seconds of fretting and finally... a lifetime of dangerous glaring. No one dared to move an inch, and the clean man looked around him with a shaky smile.

It was so awkward and filled with tension that Judith, who rested in her father's arms, started crying. 

Eleanor wanted to move forward to take her, but Rick moved faster, he gave the baby to Michonne, and turned just as fast to regard the stranger, his glare was frightening... almost as a lion that was ready to pounce and eat his head in one bite. 

Eleanor's stomach dropped, when she realized the glare was actually directed to her. She stood very straight and took a deep breath. 

"This man is named Aaron, and he came to give us... 'news', " she informed with stress marks on her fingers. "We searched him, and he had these as weapons," 

She unloaded the hand gun and put it on the ground, then kicked it. She also pulled out a dagger, a can opener, actually, and tossed it to the center. 

"I-I come from the Alexandria settlement," he informed. 

"Settlement," Michonne said with a frown. 

"You mean... a camp," Maggie provided from the side. 

"N-no, its a full community, and I think you'd all make good additions... even if it's not my call-'' Eleanor cut off Aaron in his explanation, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

"We found him outside, and he surrendered to us instantly. He said these invitations were good news, but it appears he does this on a regular basis," she commented, "Carl, give Rick the bag please," 

The teenager walked forward. 

"To show you my sincerity, there are photos about our community there.... on the front pocket," 

Carl turned to Eleanor for confirmation. She nodded and he pulled out a yellow envelope and passed it to his father. This one didn't comment and looked at the pictures instead. 

"I-I apologize in advance, for the quality, we found an old camera-" 

"Nobody cares," she whispered to him. 

"Right," he said with nervousness. 

There was another pregnant silence, when Rick crouched and looked through the pictures. Aaron fretted beside her, but she paid him no mind. Her eyes trailed on Michonne and Judith, and then back to the black woman. 

She had a weird expression, a mix between confusion and hope. 

Yup, she also wanted this to work.... for Judith. 

"You said this wasn't your call, but you must have saw something in us to risk yourself willingly to tell us," 

Aaron looked at her and swallowed some saliva. "We survived the outbreak for a long time, we have food, energy, and protection... but one of the most important resources of all are the people," he nodded,  "strong people are what make our community strong, and we believe we could benefit from you greatly," 

It sounded so much like Terminus.... and yet it didn't. Eleanor studied the atmosphere around her, she turned back to look at Daryl, who was giving her very confused signs. Yes, they were in need of all that he had listed, but how much of this was genuine? How much could they believe him? Still, there was a silent agreement that they wanted to try, at least to see if it was worth it. 

Rick rose, and let the photos fall beside him. He walked purposely to the front, and Aaron's additional broken sentences were lost in her, when she saw the former sheriff preparing her right fist to launch at him. 

She stepped forward, as soon as the man stretched his arm to give Aaron a punch. At the sight of the woman, he stopped abruptly. 

Aarom stopped talking, and she could feel his fear  behind her.  Rick showed his teeth, almost like a dog ready to bite, but she didn't relent. The air around them was so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

"Daryl," 

He stepped forward and looked between Rick and her. 

"What,"

"Tie Aaron up against a beam, cover his mouth, and his eyes. He won't put up resistance so be kind," she turned to the man himself. This one strained a smile and nodded, and she mouthed a silent sorry as Daryl dragged him away. 

Rick turned to follow him, but she jumped fast to land in front of him again. 

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Stopping your ass before we need to gather everyone to decide if we should kill him or let him return to his group," she whispered back. Rick flared his nose, grimaced, and passed a hand through his face. He looked to the side for a second, before invading all her personal space one more time. 

"That was different-"

"Then prove to me it was different!" she said in a hushed tone, "He is not threatening us, and maybe you hadn't noticed, but many of us want this to work." 

She then turned to the others, "We found him walking from north to here, but he could easily have reached us in a car of his own. We don't know if what he claim is true, so we also need to scout and make sure we are not surrounded by them," she looked around her, "I suggest we form groups to explore the surrounding area... groups of three maximum, some of us will stay and interrogate Aaron;" she let her hands fall, "I'm open to comments if you think we shouldn't give this a shot,"

There was a short silence, before Glenn stepped forward. 

"We are in," he said, "Maggie will go with me," 

"I want to go too," Said Beth, and Maggie glared. As if she could have any authority to say in the matter the teenager turned to her. She shrugged. 

"She needs to learn how to scout at some point. If you think you can take her..."

Maggie looked at Glenn unsure and this one nodded. Eventually she gave in and the Rhee family went in their direction. 

"We are also going little girl," Abraham stepped forward, "I want a shower and if this place has one I'm in. you said north?" he signaled to the door. 

"Yup," 

"We will search for that car," he turned to Rosita and Tara. These two moved to the exit with him. 

"I'll take south," Sasha volunteered, and Tyreese walked up front with her, "And we are taking Noah," 

"Me?" he asked with a meek question. "I-I'd rather go with Daryl and Carol... if you don't mind," 

Sasha glared and rolled her eyes, then walked away. 

"It's okay, you know them better," Eleanor said with a smile. The older teen thanked her and Daryl and Carol went in the only direction left without a word. 

That left her, Carl, Eugene, Father Gabriel, Michonne and Rick to handle Aaron. 

Eleanor took the bag from Carl's hands, and then walked to pick up the thrown photos. Then, she walked to Michonne, and gave her the bag. 

"Chonne, could you please look around here? Maybe we can find more that we can question him about," 

The black woman eyed her, still, with the same wide eyes since the first exchange. She turned her mouth and shrugged, taking the bag with her. "And what if there's food?"

"If Judith can't eat it... it's yours," 

"Nobody is going to eat anything!" Rick said with an angry growl. Eleanor rolled her eyes. 

"Fine, we set the food aside and we try it on some animal to see if it dies," she said, and reached Eugene, "Eugene, do you think you can look at these photos? I want to know if they are genuine, and if they can help us determine how big that place is," 

"Well... depends on the perspective of the shot and also the lens they used. I can make an estimation of the disposition of-"

"Don't tell me, just do it," she said with a grin. 

"Okay," 

She walked back to Rick, and with her hands on her hips, she eyed him and smirked. "ready to interrogate, Officer Friendly?" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carl shared a little gaze with Michonne. The black woman was still gaping at Eleanor, as she searched and pulled out of the bag everything that she found. 

Yeah, he couldn't blame her; he wasn't exactly sure what was going on either. 

When Eleanor told him that she had cut ties with his father, that she was no longer to share her loyalty to him... he didn't think she would so readily antagonize him and take leadership, not as fast as she did either way. He always thought the woman hated to take charge, that she rather follow someone else and that since his father called all the shots and they were almost always right, she would follow him. 

Apparently he stood now corrected. Not only Eleanor seemed as if she didn't mind taking charge; she was not afraid to go against Rick, and she had all the weapons to do so, people trusted her... or rather, she had gained their trust along the way. 

No matter if his father was at disadvantage here, he was secretly loving this. 

"Look at this," Michonne said beside him, and passed him a red plastic gun... though it looked smaller. 

"Dad... Elle?" he called, and they both turned. 

The first one to reach forward was his father. He took the gun and looked at it. He turned to Eleanor and she lifted her eyebrows. This one crouched and pulled the bag away from Aaron, then she pulled down the rug at his mouth. 

"Thank you," he said with a gasp, "I-I understand that you are doing all of this for safety measures, so I'll cooperate-"

"how many of your people are out there?" Rick cut him off. Aaron blinked and shook his head. "You have a flare gun." he lifted the red pistol.... Oh, so that's what that was, Carl thought. "You were going to use this to signal someone. How many of your are out there?" 

"Does it matter?" Aaron asked, and he almost looked scared. 

"Yes... yes it does," 

"Is it someone important to you? Or is it rather someone you fear?" Eleanor asked in turn and Aaron turned to her. 

"It's not about that," 

"No? what is it then?" Rick urged 

"I-....," he took a breath, "just... just another one," 

Two of them? He was serious? Eleanor crouched closer to him. 

"You know, something's been bugging me for a while now. You know our names, you know some of our character traits, and you knew where to find us. The bottles of water on the road... was it you?" 

He didn't answer with words... but he nodded. Michonne walked to him. 

"How long have you been following us?" she said, alarmed, even annoyed. 

"Enough to know that you ignored a group of walkers as you walked by. Enough, as to know that despite being hungry and thirsty you never turned against each other. You are survivors, and you are people... and I'll say it again, and try to punch me again if you must!" he said with a sudden strike of confidence, "you people... are the most valuable resource out there," 

Carl strained a smile. That was no way to convince someone to trust you..., Michonne thought the same, and she walked a little further away. 

"You said that there was only another one of you. You sound as if you've been doing this for a while. How did you planned to take all of us to your community?" Eleanor asked, and she sat cross legged instead of crouching. 

"I planned to drive you there-"

"So you do have a car," Eleanor said with a smile. 

"Are you sure about that? I doubt 20 of us, plus your 'one' guy could fit us in just a car," 

"N-no,  we drove here separately. I have a car, and he has another, bigger one-"

"Where is that?" Eleanor insisted

"It's on Ridge road, just ahead of hit road 16. We couldn't go that much further because of the storm, the road was blocked and we couldn't clear it," 

Eleanor nodded and shrugged. "Okay, if he's telling the truth, then... Once the others return, they'll have to tell us the same you just said... then we'll believe you," she turned to Rick. "Sounds fair?" 

"Now you ask me?" He stood and walked away, he signaled to her, "If this turns out badly, it's on you," 

"It's not on her," Michonne said, right before Carl rose to protest; "Haven't you taken a look around you? we all want to know if this is legit,"

"It's dangerous," Rick said to her, now with a quieter tone. 

"What 's dangerous is staying on the road, reaching winter and having to worry if some of us fall ill.... if Judith falls ill. If this turns out badly, we'll know what to do. We can handle ourselves," she said, squaring her shoulders. "This is not on her, this is what we choose," 

An hour passed by. Eleanor walked outside to guard the surrounding area, and Carl offered to accompany her. His father said nothing about it, it seemed that Michonne's words had deflated him somehow. The woman decided it was doable to roam around with Eugene who... eventually, said that the photos were genuine; not only that, they showed a place that was quite big, maybe up to two full blocks of houses. He wasn't there to see it, but that made him remember the description Eleanor gave to him about Woodbury. A place that big, surely needed a leader, and maybe that leader was less welcoming than Aaron himself. 

Right now, they were around their second turn around the barn... and it was still empty. 

"You already believe him, don't you?" 

Eleanor turned to him, and made a half smile. 

"It's not that I trust him. Even if he's friendly, he's scared shitless. That alone separates him from Gareth... he's not going to kill us, if that's what you want to know," 

She let out a sigh, and fell to sit over a tree, Carl sat beside her. 

"What was that all about?" 

"What?" 

"My father and you," she turned to look at him but he looked at the barn, it was some meters away. "I never thought you would use yourself as a human shield to prevent  my father punching Aaron in the face," 

"Well... there was no need for violence. And last time we went on that direction, I obeyed what he decided and I made a mistake,"

"You are talking about Randall, aren't you?" 

She let her head fall against this shoulder, "You don't get it. When they went for Hershel at that town and I went after them, I realized your father had killed two men. Two men that belonged in Randall's group... for obvious reasons, we were stranded, they wanted retaliation... and a shooting broke in the middle of our escape," 

"He must have had a reason to shoot them," 

"Oh I don't say he didn't. When we were reaching the trucks to leave, the number of walkers increased, they started jumping off the roofs and Randall slipped and pierced his leg on a spiked fence. They left him to die, and your father decided to rescue him and take him with us," 

Carl frowned and finally collided gazes with her. He couldn't understand, he thought this was her call and not his. 

"Then why did my father-"

"Weird right? You rescue a person, only to beat it almost to death later... and then, trying to release him, only to return with him to decide you should kill him," Eleanor looked up and let out another sigh. "Rick told Daryl to get out as much information as he could, and I heard the kid’s cries as he begged for mercy. There was no way he could trust us after that, and when Rick and Shane tried to leave him on the road, he blurted out that he knew Maggie from school. He was a school mate Carl, and they already decided it was all too late to try and make friends with him," 

He said nothing. 

"What if your father hit and scared Aaron to the point he wouldn't tell us or no longer invited us to his community just because now we are too dangerous for his people? Hm? Our need to keep safe would have blown out all our possibilities to actually be safe. I know your father means well but... sometimes he's just too paranoid, just a tad too mistrustful... and violent. And I get it, we've seen some shit, but there are moments when you are justified to kill someone because you are left with no other option. it's either you, or the other... and this is not that moment Carl," 

He nodded, he could understand that, and it hurt him... but partially agreed on that too. This happened with Gabriel, they scared that man out of his body, and clearly, even if he was not with them, he passed more as a shadow. He didn't integrate, he didn't trust them. 

It was a fine line to walk, even more nowadays. He also let out a sigh, and Eleanor let a hand rest on his knee. 

"What will happen to us?" 

"What do you mean?" she asked, and he put his hand over hers. 

"You and my father are at odds with each other. How are we supposed to tell him that we are together," 

"Actually I think it's easier now," She said with a smile, "It's not related, but I feel that I owe nothing to him now. I would feel guilty about falling in love with you... of all people, if I still felt some sense of gratitude, or even responsibility for protecting you and Judith. But that well has dried. Even if he were to recriminate me I took advantage of his trust, I would apologize, but I wouldn't feel guilty," 

He could see that; his father saying that she was supposed to be a surrogate mother or something akin to that for Judith and him, but that had never been the case. Eleanor was more like a babysitter, whom he had the luck to have answered to his crush. 

That didn't make it any easier on him though; but he was willing to go down the hard road, as long as Elle didn't walk away from it. 

At the first signs of movement, they stood. They crossed with Daryl, Carol and Noah first, and they went together to the barn. One by one, the other groups also reached the barn. 

And they came with things. Not only was Aaron telling the truth. there was an RV filled with food and water, and a smaller car trapped right beside a fallen tree. No more people around, and that left them all waiting for a final verdict.  Eleanor stood beside him, and he decided to look at his father first. 

Rick paced to Aaron, who was still tied to that beam. 

"This is ours now," 

"There is more than enough for all of us-"

"No... ours. whether we go your camp or not,"

What? still? Carl clenched his jaw and suddenly, he completely understood what Eleanor told him earlier. 

"He's been telling the truth. Why wouldn't we go?" he asked. 

"If he were lying, and if he wanted to hurt us. But he isn't," Michonne continued for him, "He doesn't! We saw it for ourselves. We need this, and we are going," she looked around and took a breath, "Somebody say something if they think different,"

"Any fear beyond this is not justified, I'm in," Eleanor said and looked around her. Carl was focused on his father still, and he looked around and Carl could see when his gaze softened. 

"We are going," he said with a nod, and he turned to walk to Aaron. "but we are going out way, where is your camp?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know, Aaron is right, my body is fighting against this bonkers decision," Eleanor said, as she drove up the 23. The faint red lights of an old Chevrolet riding up ahead of them.  

"Should have said something when you had the chance," Carl commented, and she could hear Abraham, laughing behind her. 

"Well... I no longer had much to contribute and he's a better tactician than me," Eleanor said, "But it's been, long time right? They said 16 was cleared and we are not going on the 16. Not only that, it's been a while since I've drove up a dark road such as this and I'm pissing myself,"

"I can take the wheel, little girl," Abraham said behind her between wheezes. 

"No! You lost, I want to drive!" She said adamantly. Carl snickered. 

It was night, Aaron didn't bend on not telling them where their camp was, so Rick's plan was approved: to drive up on a different road that he destined, without him driving, and with them following right behind. Rick, Glen and Michonne were with this guy, if something happened, Eleanor was to turn around and don't look back. 

It was easier said than done though... She was worried for them. 

"You think we'll reach it tonight?" Asked Tara that was also up the front, the others had sat on the back. 

"Well... at this speed we'll reach past Pennsylvania if it isn't," 

"Wait, slow down," Abraham said, now no giggles, resting over the panel to see up front. 

"Why?" Eleanor said, and put on the brakes

"Walkers! there are walkers," he said, alarmed. The others also stood. 

Eleanor could see them now, walkers on both sides of the road, a trail covered in blood in the center. She cursed, and grabbed onto the map that was in front of her. 

The 16... there was a small way left from the 23th, and that could take them to the 16. There was a cross point not too far away from that... in which one was she? She hadn't seen any crosses until now! 

"There!" she said and turned the wheel left. Then, she stepped on the accelerator, and turned one last time to reach the 16th. 

It was empty. 

"Wait, what are you doing!" Carl said, alarmed. 

"They have a strong car, they can hit the walkers until a cross point up ahead. This car won't take it it will be turned over!" She said right back. 

Carl didn't protest more than that. Tara offered to go to the back and explain to the others what had happened. There were some protests, mainly from Maggie and Beth. But they died down quickly. Eleanor knew this was a cruel decision, but they talked about this, this was planned... expected, and she had these people's safety on her hands. 

"What is that?" 

The sky was covered in a red light; she slowed down. 

"The flare gun; Rick must have lighted it up," 

"Then they are close, " Abraham said, "Follow the signal," 

It took them to what looked like an industrial town, some kind of large set of manufacturing buildings, along a gas station. Eleanor frowned, and looked around her for a large Chevrolet filled with walker's remains. 

Instead, she found a group of walkers, budging around a car that looked a lot like it. And a person screaming for help. He fired a shot, it was not Rick. 

This had to be the other person Aaron talked about. 

"Abraham come with me, Carl, watch the car," she ordered, and put the brakes. She then descended, and took out her blades. 

"What are we doing little girl?" 

"That's Aaron's companion, we are saving his ass," she said, and ran forward. 

There were five of them, and Abraham fought them alongside her with force if not with swiftness. The man was trapped under the car, which now she realized was not what she expected to find. He tried to crawl away, and he wailed in pain. 

"No, no... wait, don't move, you are safe," Eleanor tried to assure him, "We met Aaron! You're safe,"

"Where is Aaron! What did you do to him!" 

"He's fine... he's with the rest of us," Eleanor said, and grimaced, ...what if he was already dead... there was a lot to say. "Just let me help you and then we'll talk; what's your name?"

"My name is Eric," 

Chapter Text

Eleanor heard a whistle coming from outside the building, and she turned to the Eric, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

"It's them," 

"Is Aaron with them?" he asked with a shaky voice. Eleanor smiled at him and rubbed the man's shoulder. 

"I'll go check, but I doubt Rick would have left him behind," she then stood and made a mad run to the entrance. 

She almost collided with Aaron himself, who was just going through the door of the building. At her sight, he grasped her by the shoulders. 

"Where is Eric!" 

"Come with me," she said, turning around and tugging him by the arm. 

"How is he?" 

"A little shaken... he's unable to move for the moment," She said while Aaron busted into the small room where the other man rested. Eleanor smiled when Aaron kneeled to the ground and fretted over the form of Eric, who was sprawled on the floor, a bandage and a splint over it. 

"I'm okay, It's more like a volleyball injury," He said with a defeated yet relieved smile of his own. Aaron kneeled beside the man, and Eleanor slowly walked forward. "A broken angle... right?" he said, turning to her. 

"I hardly see how this is a Volleyball injury, I got one myself when I jumped off a building;" she said and Aaron turned to her alarmed.  She shook her head, "I'm just joking, he'll be fine-" 

She yelped when Aaron pulled her into a crushing hug. Feeling awkward, she giggled and patted his back. 

"Thank you," he whispered. 

"It's no big deal. Say, I'll give you two some time to catch up, and tell Maggie to bring you something to eat," She said once the man let go, and she walked to the exit while she heard a whispered *I like her* from Eric.

At least she could do something for him. Otherwise she would feel very guilty. 

Eleanor was closing the door behind her, when she almost crashed with a very familiar figure. 

"So... we hit the 23th, huh?" she said, and received a murderous glare in return "Aw I'm just messing with you," slapped his chest and the man flinched, "I'm glad you are okay," 

"Thank you for taking them to safety," he whispered with a gruff, and tried to move her to the side. 

"Ah! no, no!" she said, dancing right back to be in front of him. 

"Who's inside," he whispered with more urgency. 

"His name is Eric," Eleanor provided, Rick scowled and nodded. 

"Eric,"

Eleanor rolled her eyes and put both her index fingers beside each other. Rick frowned at the action, but soon caught up and wide eyed. 

"Get it? Aaron was telling the truth, we found the guy firing a flare because the walkers managed to move a car and he got trapped underneath, his ankle is broken," Eleanor explained while pushing him backwards; "So Aaron must have had the fright of his life. Let's give them a couple of minutes, I'll tell Maggie and Sasha to bring them some food,"

"Maggie, and Tyresse," Rick corrected. 

"Okay, Maggie and Ty it is... aren't you hungry?" she said and finally, the former sheriff turned around to leave. Then, Eleanor was envelopped by warm arms and her vision was blurred by long and black braids. 

"Oh! Thank god!" she said with a laugh that the black woman answered with a giggle. "What the hell happened!" 

Glenn appeared right after, and she also hugged him. 

"How did it all go to shit?" 

"Michonne made me turn, that's what. Didn't see the walkers until I was hitting them," Glenn said with a stretch. They walked to a central area, metal shelves were moved to covet the space and hang drapes, to conserve the heat. A fire was made at the center, and many of them were already eating. 

"I thought that he was lying to us," said Michonne in her defense; "I saw the pictures, and none had people. Eugene, you saw the pictures, didn't you find that odd?" she complained. 

The man with the mullet looked up, his mouth filled with canned pasta. He looked at Michonne, then at Eleanor, and then shook his head, lifting his shoulders. He swallowed quickly. 

"These are made with an open ignition akin to phosphorus. People moving around would only make them come out blurry. Thought it was obvious," 

Eleanor laughed out loud, and dulled Michonne's protests. She moved around to ask Maggie and Tyreese if they could send some food to Aaron and Eric, and as soon as she had nothing else to do, her eyes sought a place for her to sit down. 

They landed on a pair of bright blue eyes. 

She nailed herself in place. Her gaze danced around for an escape, until the owner of said eyes stood, shoved a can of food in her direction and tugged the sleeve of her hoodie until she sat beside him. 

Another set of blue eyes was now trailed on them both.

"We will head to that place tomorrow? Alexandria?" Asked Glenn.

Rick scrapped the sides of his can. "We will scout the surroundings. By all the ruckus we've made tonight, I'm sure the walkers will be surrounding us until tomorrow," 

"I agree," Abraham said, his mouth full, "we saw the road as we turned left into the woods," he snorted, "you didn't run over half of them," 

"Is there any chance to retrieve the car?" Eleanor asked. 

"Nope. I pulled out limbs from that thing. Its busted," Michonne said. 

Some cringed and grunted in disgust. Daryl shook his head, as if something valuable had been lost forever, and moved to take a sip of water. 

"How do we enter Alexandria?" 

The one who asked was Sasha. The half merry athmosohere soon sobered. Rick shared a little glance with her before he turned to the others.

"By foot. We hide our weapons outside, and we round the place for a side opening. Just like in Terminus," 

"Terminus didn't have those.... metallic walls with them," Elle retorted. "I don't think it's going to be easy climbing those on an Indian row... we gotta split," 

Rick glared at her, but soon after, nodded. "Fine, we split. Take some rest, who's taking watch first?" 

"I'm going first," Carl offered. She turned to him, surprised,  but said nothing when she saw his can, he had already finished. Saying no more he wished some goodnights, and headed to the entrance of the building. The fire was slowly dying and they all searched for a private corner to sleep. 

Eleanor let herself be consumed by darkness, before she decided to move from the center. 

From where she was, it was easy to spot the sheriff hat that rested on his head. The night was clear, and the full moon light shone bright and white. Carl was sitting leaning against the wall from the outside and she reluctantly advanced to sit in the shadows, from the opposite side. 

"Not tired yet?" He asked. 

"I just....," Eleanor hesitated. She was tired, her nerves were cracked open. She wasn't in special need to talk to him, even if she knew there were many things  to talk about. 

She just wanted to be beside him, a quiet moment they could share, and that her heart craved that night as her lungs craved for oxygen.

She said nothing, and rose once again. 

Her hand was pulled in the other direction. Eleanor looked back, despite the nonchalant tone he used on her, Carl looked annoyed. 

"Sorry, it's just that... you are right, I am beaten up, so I should not bother-" she said with a half smile while kneeling beside him.

Carl made no move to release her however. He pulled her forward, until she started walking outside on all fours. She protested, since the task was easier said than done with only three limbs, but the teenager never stopped pulling. 

She yelped, when she lost her footing and fell over. Carl caught her mid way, and she moved to protest with even more force, when she was stopped by a kiss. 

At first, she tried to fight it, she was awkwardly sprawled all over the floor. Yet, her heart had no objections whatsoever, and it commanded her body to give in. She slowly relaxed until she rested over his bended legs, and Carl curled around her in an attempt to keep the kiss on going. 

"Ha...!" She gasped, when she could finally part for air. It was nothing but a moment of mercy, before he pulled down once again, and restarted the endless battle. 

"Carl..." she whispered out of breath, "what-mmmph!" His tongue caressed her lips, and searched for hers. Despite her constant attempt to pull away, her body was responding, she twisted her legs together. "Hey!" She said panting. "Someone will see us-" 

"You assume I still care," he whispered, also short of breath, his face leaning in and nuzzling against hers. 

Her heart skipped a beat. What was this urgency? What was this need?

It did nothing to silence her own plead; it made her believe she had the right to be as demanding as he was with her, that they could forget who they were and where, and just become one for a life's moment. 

It was impossibly dangerous, her mind was on high alert, but easily distracted by the sensation of his skin on hers, the arms that cradled her with gentleness, but also pulled her in with impressive strength. 

"Well, you should care. We are not alone here, and the shift will change in a short while," she said, despite moving her body closer to him.

He tensed, when he felt her move. But recognizing her direction, he eased up again and moved her over so that she fell in between his bended kegs. 

She giggled. It was a really weird position, specially considering she was the older of the two. Carl had grown, his legs were long now and the space made by them wasn't as small as she would have imagined. 

"Is this how you take watch?" 

"You said you were beaten up. Sleep," 

"What would happen if a walker passed by? How would you attack it?" She said, still, while getting comfortable and leaning her head against the space between his shoulder and his neck. 

"As long as we don't make noise, they won't attack," he whispered, and circled his arms around her body. She hummed, the warm sensation and his breathing actually soothing her to sleep.

"When did you stop fearing them?" she said with a gorged voice. Carl said nothing, and he just leant his head against hers. 

"There are other things to be afraid of," he whispered, and Eleanor blushed when she felt a light kiss on the side of her forehead.

What was there to be more afraid of? She looked up... and the sadness set on those eyes had her heart squeezing in pain, and her own thoughts darkening. 

"..."  

"..." 

"Somehow I feel... that I know what you mean,"

"Really?... What do I mean?" He insisted. Was he amused? She blinked in confusion... and they annoyment. 

"Are you gonna make me say it?" 

"It's about time you acknowledge it, don't you think? How long has it been?" She felt him move his arm, the cold breeze on her back made her shiver, "three... no, four. Four years, Eleanor," 

She flinched, he wasn't amused... he was actually angry. She hid her face against his chest. 

"It won't happen again," 

"Excuse me?" 

She sighed, "I won't be moved by others to leave you behind, again," 

"Are you sure you should say that? What will I do if it happens either way?" 

She didn't answer, involuntarily, she sniffed. The arm returned to hold her close.

"It's scary isn't it," he said, whispering against her hair, "one way or another, shit happens and suddenly... you need to do something dangerous to gain everyone else's trust and good side," he sighed, "and I get it, there is a benefit. But many things have been asked of us. What will Alexandria ask of us this time?" 

"It could be nothing," 

"It's never nothing, and you tell me that just to avoid the truth," 

Eleanor lifted her face, and her brown eyes found his blue ones. Her heart broke, when she saw in them tiredness... a jaded gaze that made him look so much older, probably older than her. It lashed at her heart, because she could still wistfully think as a child that everything would be alright... while he, he couldn't help but think as an adult, as a man who could lost everything; and that was always assessing what was there to gain and what was there to sacrifice, as if he knew by experience that not preparing for the future was just some childish attitude. 

"You are wondering what you should say," he said with a sad smile, and the small caress over her cheek almost scorched her skin, "but you better say nothing, if its something you don't mean," 

She wide eyed. And suddenly, she felt herself trapped.

The sensation was familiar... it made her remember all those times her mother seeked her out, despite her saying that nothing was wrong.

It was a claustrophobic sensation; she was short of breath, and her heart was racing inside her chest. She felt exposed, so impossibly exposed... as if she was being judged by god. She wanted to hide, or to run away; but at the same time, she wanted to be able to say what she was meant to say. 

"I'm also scared," she hid her face against him, the only solace she could get. "And you are right. True fear... I tend to avoid it," 

"What are you willing to sacrifice for Alexandria?" 

No.... he couldn't ask her that. She shook her head, and her eyes pricked with tears. She was not willing to sacrifice him, never him... she wouldn't sacrifice again something she held so dear. She was still struggling with the guilt of sacrificing her mother for her own sake. He couldn't ask her to do the same to him. 

Eleanor held onto him tighter, and suddenly she wanted to be kissed again...  over and over;  as if it could soothe this pressure that was still growing on her chest. 

She gasped for air, when she felt she was drowning. 

"Don't panic," 

"How dare you say that to me when this is your fault!" she said, her voice broken and weird pitched. She still tried to breathe, and clutched onto him for dear life. "You don't understand...! What you ask of me-!"

"I do. I do understand... you have to answer me," he said with a soft voice. 

"Not again...." she hiccuped, "I'm not sacrificing  you... for me. No, never," she repeated.

"And you. Would you let yourself be sacrificed for me?" 

Let herself? What did he even mean? 

Her eyes danced in fear, and something clicked. Her memories provided the moments that plagued most of her nightmares; and she finally understood. 

Sacrifice was never one sided. One always remained to bear the guilt for the other. Just as she was willing to die for Carl... her mother had been willing to die for her. 

It didn't stop her from hurting the rest of her life. It wouldn't stop Carl from sharing the same burden. 

"No. Because I can't bear to think you'd blame yourself for it. I can't-" 

"Good. It means you get it," he whispered. 

She 'got it'? Was he kidding. It was almost as if he was lecturing her. She grasped his shirt with force. 

"Why are you doing this?" 

"You taught me once that everyone needs a person to whom you can be completely open to. It took me a while... to accept you were right; and yet, you don't follow your own wisdom. You appear to be open to others, but your walls are actually pretty hard to crack," 

She looked up, and the gentle smile he was giving her melted her pride away. 

"I taught you that?" She said with a cracked voice. 

"I've been in your current position many times," 

"I've never seen you like this," she frowned, and tried to part to rub her eyes. 

"That's because you are too emotional," he said with a grin. She glared, and pouted, but that only fueled his amusement. 

"Kiss me," 

"Oh now you want me to kiss you. How curious-" 

"Kiss me. Or I swear to God, Grimes-!" She began, but he quieted her down with what she pleaded. 

Unlike her first reservations, she hugged him, moaned, begged, caressed. She answered his touch with eagerness, their tongues met each other with tenderness and passion, their hands searched for heated skin to touch. The battle of wills against their lack of oxygen was well forgotten... they only wanted it to last forever.

They reluctantly parted, each gasping for a moment of reprieve before crashing against each other once again.

"I hear footsteps," Carl said in a soft whisper and ragged breath. His forehead dancing against hers.  

"I thought-" she quieted down a gasp while he leaned in and bit her lip, "you didn't care," 

"You want the bomb to go off tonight, then be my guest," he said while biting down a trail to her collar bone. She shivered, and turned her head to give him more access. It was almost unfair how he was so good at this... having so little experience. 

But what if he wasn't joking? She quieted herself down, moved to lean down against his shoulder, and stood very still. She felt Carl's fast heartbeat, and coutend to ten. 

The footsteps became audible at the last second. This was no joke. Eleanor tensed, and held her breath.

"I'll wake her up,"

"Nah. Let her be... I'll be inside," she heard a whispered gruff, and the steps moved farther and farther away.

Daryl. 

"You are not really sleeping, are you?" She heard against her hair, after the space was completely filled with silence.

"I want to dig up a hole and die," 

"It's just Daryl. He already knows," 

"As if that makes me feel any better," she looked up. 

"Oh... you want to go inside?" He asked, still... with that sweet and gentle smile.

"No, I want to stay a little longer," 

He snickered, and hugged her tight. Eleanor closed her eyes... thinking that he might be young, but was already nurturing the the cleverness of a fox; and the patience of a saint. 

...

...

"Are you comfortable down here?" 

Eric and Aaron turned to her almost at the same time, and she resisted a smile. Eric tried to move around the makeshift bed on the RV, and Aaron stopped him. 

"I could use more pillows," 

"Ignore him, we are fine" Aaron said with a smile. Eleanor grinned. 

"Maybe I don't have more pillows, but we searched around that building today, and I found this," she said and waved a tube of pills in front of them. "Analgesics. They are not strong but I know for a fact that two will do the trick.... don't tell Rick I found them," she whispered with a wink. 

"Is she hitting on you?" Eric asked, and Aaron panicked, looking between his partner and Eleanor. 

"No! No..." he said worried and Eleanor barked a laugh. 

"I told you, being too friendly could get you in trouble," 

She turned, Carl was leaning on the entrance. 

"Being unkind will also get me into trouble, you know? what are you doing here?" She asked 

Carl lifted his eyebrows. "You know the drill. Dad doesn't want you here alone," 

She groaned and rolled her eyes. 

"And so he sent you to watch over her?" Eric said with an playful incredulous tone. 

"I'm more than enough," 

"Yeah... he's more than enough," Aaron repeated and the teenager smirked. 

"Guess where we are," 

Eleanor turned. Oh he was talking to her. She couldn't help but smile, he seemed very animated and proud of himself. 

"I have no clue, but you are dying to tell me," she said with the same tone. 

"We are not too far from Washington," 

She gasped and laughed. All of this, all they fought for, and they ended up in Washington either way. Shit, Eugene was right. She tried to remember where the 16th road ended, and she turned to Aaron smiling.

"is it Richmond?"

He tensed, and her smile turned to a grin. 

"It is Richmond," 

"Not exactly," Aaron conceded a little bothered. 

"Oh but it's Virginia. We are going to-" she stopped and frowned, certainly bothered, "But we went to Virginia for Noah's parents! We are literally going back! How didn't we spot you!" she said indignant. 

"I suppose that's the point, Elle," Carl said moving to her. "But most probably, you started watching us from back then, right?" 

Aaron didn't answer at first, but a sigh was enough. Even back when she had her first fight with Rick. That was a long way to follow someone only to assess if they could enter their group. Were they that unapproachable?

Were the people in Alexandria actually very scrupulous about those who they let in?

"Let's leave them to rest," Carl said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Glenn is close by, if you need anything, ask him," 

Eleanor stood and walked to the small hallway. She swayed a little as they hit a curve, and Carl held her still. 

"You grew silent all of a sudden," 

"I'm starting to feel self conscious. What if Alexandria is something like Woodbury.... or even more," she leaned in with a whisper, "Classy?" 

Carl grinned, "Classy?"

"Look at us. We are one step away from cave men," she whispered and Carl giggled. 

"I suppose that after roaming the woods for almost a year now... a shower is well due," 

She smiled, and then walked up front. Abraham was driving, and Eleanor sat over the panel beside him. She couldn't help but feel relieved, when she saw the Ginger giant smiling at the front. One would say that he even had tears on his eyes. 

"We are going to Richmond," 

"Aaron told you that?" He asked with a snicker, she shrugged. 

"He hinted that," 

Abraham nodded, his gaze had purpose and hope. "Well make it, we are gonna make it," 

Once you say it, you yinx it. Once you yinx it, it's a snowball rolling down the hill. You get angry and you start defying the universe, and more and more things start happening to you. Might as well have a storm and a lightning strike you. 

Eleanor resisted a laugh when Abraham fumed around the RV, and Glenn moved to show him the solution to an empty car battery. 

"Almost as if it were a sign," 

She turned. Rick Grimes had walked forward, and sat on the same rock she was in. She wished to roll her eyes, but she sighed instead. 

"It's just a battery Grimes. We are going," she said, "If I didn't know any better, I would say you don't want to go," 

The sheriff frowned, and looked at her. 

"Nope. The wording of that is not wrong. I know better; and you are giving turns and turns about this because you want to go... for Judith and Carl. But you are also afraid that the place is not what you expected, and that your children have to suffer for it," 

"I forgot what it felt like," he said with a scowl. 

"What do you mean?"

"You guessing people's minds. I forgot how that felt," 

She huffed, "it's been a while, hasn't it?" 

"Yeah," 

Michonne and Tarah passed by, giving the people bottles of water. Eleanor noticed as the black woman turned to look at them... at Rick specifically. She gave him a worried gaze, and for a moment, Eleanor felt her heart leaping. 

If you thought hard about it, maybe Michonne was what Rick Grimes needed to get his shit together. 

"I'm sorry," 

That caught back her attention. She waited, and the older man scratched his nape. "I know it's not an excuse, but I was so angry at myself, for letting Judith be in that car crash. She would have died weren't it for you. So I'm sorry," 

She wondered what she would have done, if she had heard this words earlier. 

"It's okay. You are forgiven," 

"I know that now it won't change anything-" 

"You are right. It won't," she said with a little smile. 

He let out a sigh, "but I guess... That's also something you and I need," he rubbed his nose. "I don't always like it when you speak your mind. Still, sometimes I just need to hear it, to have another perspective," 

"I wonder who did that before me," she said as a joke. But Rick suddenly looked down in deep thought. 

"Shane did... and often," he took a breath, "I am as narrow minded as I was before. And sometimes I need someone to think opposite of me," 

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Eleanor said, embarrassed and bothered. They hadn't discussed Shane, not even when he kidnapped her with the intentions to kill her. Not even when he killed Otis for her sake, and Shane had her menaced to shut up. Not even when Judith was born, and they didn't know who the father was. 

"Is there something else I should hear?" 

What? 

What! 

Eleanor turned her head in a whirlwind, all thought of pretense flew away faster than she could register. Her eyes were like saucers, and her face was heating up enough to give out steam. Rick turned to her, his face was impassive, his eyes didn't show the predatory glare that he often had when there was something he didn't like. The young woman sealed her mouth shut, and considered the possibility of standing up and running away. 

"I-I..."

"Think carefully what your are going to say. I'm not blind, and I might not be a good father to Carl... but I know my son," 

Her stuttering never left, but she understood this was not avoidable. 

"We," she let out a defeated sigh, "we were waiting for this Alexandria thing to solve itself, before we even approached to tell you," she lifted her finger, "we WERE going to tell you, that was the deal," 

"Deal?" He said with a little smirk, "How far have you-" 

"NO!!"

She almost stood. Then, her brain started working and she looked around. some heads were directed her way, she cleared he throat and stood down.

"No! Of course not! He's fifteen! No!" She whispered

Rick Grimes huffed at her reaction, and rubbed his eyes. 

"How long has it been?" 

Slowly, she calmed down. Eleanor sat straight, and her gaze trailed on the half standing grass of the road. 

"I ask myself that... many times," she began, "I don't know if I've been oblivious for long, but along the line I grew certain that I wouldn't want to continue living if Carl wasn't alive as well," she said with a sad smile, "the self awareness, that actually happened not too long ago. A couple of months.... maybe?" 

Rick only nodded, his gaze was also trailed on the road. 

"And Carl?" 

"What about him?" 

"What does he think," 

"He hasn't told me. I wish to believe it wasn't longer than my own realization," she rubbed her cheeks, the blush in them was slowly fading away, "but he's been pressuring me to seek you out and get it over with," 

He nodded, and not long after, stood. Eleanor stood as fast as he did, and twisted her fingers in knots while waiting.

Was that no? Was that a yes? 

"We'll have a talk, once we check out Alexandria," he said, and his hands reached out hers. He disentangled the tortured fingers, and squeezed on the hands lightly. "We'll talk, and you'll explain this to me," 

"I promise,"

"Good," he nodded again and let her hands go. 

"What are you doing?" 

It was the second time she risked herself to die by a broken neck. Before them was Carl Grimes, a glare was burning holes on both her and Rick. His eyes landed on the joined hands, and then on her eyes. "Abraham says we need to keep going," 

"We were just talking son," Rick moved to him 

"About what?" Carl's demeanor changed. He wide eyed, and a rosy color reached his cheeks. 

"We made up," he ruffled his head and looped an arm around him, forcing Carl to return with him. Over his arm, Carl tried to look back to Eleanor, but barely could, while his father pushed him forward. 

Tyreese moved to shake her out of her stupor, and Eleanor climbed the RV in complete silence. 

Her fingers were back to be twisted in painful knots.

Chapter Text

Two watch posts, a large metal fence covered by boards of yellowed plastic. 

Not a voice to be heard. 

Eleanor descended the steps of the RV, almost at the end. The others walked around her, and she side glanced at Carl, who hurried to walk out of the red car that his father fixed for themselves. 

She looked forward, and her breath caught on her throat. 

No... there was not complete silence. She could hear it, the laugh of children.... children; over that fence. Was she hallucinating? No she couldn't be. 

She let out the breath she was holding, and her eyes filled with tears. 

"Elle, are you okay?" 

She turned to Carl and rubbed the tears away. She walked behind him and put her hands behind his ears. 

"Here.... listen," she whispered, "what is that?" 

He didn't answer, but she knew he understood when he also let out a sigh. Eleanor smiled giddily, until she heard a car's door opening and closing beside them. 

It was Rick. As he closed the door, he trailed his eyes on her and Carl, and she let go as if burned. However, the former sheriff said nothing, and turned to open the back seat, and get Judith out of the vehicle. 

At the sight of Eleanor, the baby immediately started protesting and calling her name, stretching her hands with insistence. Her father could do nothing but to abide the order, and he handed the baby to Eleanor. 

This one caressed her hair, and lodged her head over her chest to remain quiet. 

"She still likes me better," The young woman said with a smug smile. "It's the extra cushion," 

Carl chocked, and Michonne snickered. They all walked together to meet the others at the entrance. With difficulty, Aaron and Eric had posted themselves on the front, and the metal door slid open to the side as they reached it. 

So the sentinel posts on that thing actually worked. 

The first thing that Aaron did was to take Eric inside. Eleanor could not see where he was going exactly, but she assumed that he was just letting the man rest somewhere before they continued. Eleanor started to get distracted, looking at the forgotten cars all around until there was a rattle to her left, like a trash can falling. 

Aaron returned exactly as the screech of an animal filled the silent space. A small raccoon had tried to ran away from the excess of people, and met its untimely demise by one of Daryl's arrows. The others had their guns raised and ready to fire, including her and Carl -despite Judith- and Eleanor would think later that the whole thing was both ridiculous and impossibly hilarious.

She turned to see if Aaron returned, and beside him, was a new person. 

He had a rifle, but it was not pointing at them. They guy was a mixture of absolutely terrified and utterly confused. 

She couldn't blame him. But he couldn't blame them either.

"It's okay. Come on guys," said Aaron, cooing them all forward. 

"Keep your eyes open," Rick whispered beside her. 

"You don't have to tell me twice," she answered, and feigned a little smile at Aaron once they passed the metal doors. Those closed almost immediately after they walked past it. 

"Before we take this any further, I-I need you to turn in your weapons," The new guy said in what Eleanor would call... a good attempt at a commanding tone. Nobody moved, "If you stay, you hand them over-"

"We don't know if we wanna stay," Rick cut him off... with the legitimate version of a commanding tone. The guy hesitated and so, Eleanor walked forward. 

"How about we first talk to the person in charge. We get to know each other, and then we both decide if we should stay," she looked at Aaron. 

"Who's the person in charge?" Asked Abraham from a little farther away. Oh so he was going to give his douche bag facade as well. Eleanor lifter her eyebrows and waited patiently. 

"I'll take you to her," Aaron said, and moved his hand, "Maybe... It would be better if Rick goes first," 

...

"Is there some kind of registry? These blades have an important sentimental value, I don't want to lose them," 

Dianna Monroe and a girl Eleanor didn't know yet looked at her with a nervous stare... that turned into a nervous smile. 

"Don't worry, they won't get lost, we'll separate your weapons from those that are ours," Dianna said. 

After Aaron suggested that Rick talked first to their leader, a woman named Dianna. They walked up the hill of that place for a couple of minutes. Then, the former sheriff entered a large white house with a front garden. He disappeared for what the others felt like an eternity -Actually around fifteen minutes- only to reappear saying that they were staying.

That's how Eleanor knew who exactly Dianna was.

Short, old, and with a headstrong attitude. The woman didn't hesitate to present herself, present the place, and welcome them inside the community. She had been a step away of giving a motivational speech; but instead she brought a girl with a little overbite and a gentle disposition. She had a wheeled basket, and she offered for all to store there their weapons, since they were going inside a secure environment. 

For a second, Eleanor thought she was in some kind of prank... or very bizarre theme park. 

One by one, they all left their weapons on the tray. The tray was not small, but at that moment Eleanor realized they were heavily packed with heat. Handguns, rifles, snipers, bullets, knifes, hunting knives. It was almost enough to fill a middle sized store. Some gave away their weapons as if they were giving away a child. Daryl down right refused to give them anything. and he kept on clutching his hunting knife and his compound bow, even after the others had relinquished their weapons.

Eleanor rolled her eyes when Carol fake struggled to set down the automatic rifle she had... as if she had never used it in her life. She no longer understood what kind of image they were trying to convey. 

"Don't be a crybaby," Carl whispered beside her. She couldn’t resist a smile, when he started pulling out a handgun, three knives, a small pocket knife, and the blade she gave him. She moved to do the same, until her hand reached past her knees. 

Her karambit. 

"Is that all?" The girl asked, and gave them a smile “I should have brought another tray,” she joked. Eleanor rose and side glanced at the teenager, who got his hat out only to ruffle his hair. 

So he was keeping that one too. 

"I would like to make a small interview to every one of you... separately," Dianna said with an open.... but mirthless smile. Eleanor frowned, she didn't like it; but she couldn't quite decide why. "Please understand, we want you to fit in this place, and knowing your background will serve me to give you all a task to do," 

"Can I go first?" Eleanor offered, while raising her hand. 

"Sure do," Dianna said with another of those poster smiles.

As Eleanor entered the house, it finally clicked. 

A poster smile 

"You've been a public figure before the outbreak... haven't you?" 

"Oh, ho!" She exclaimed with a slap to her legs, "it seems that we have another one who's good at playing poker," her smile turned slightly predatory, and she moved to light up a camera, and sit on the large sofa in front of the chimney. "This is gonna be fun!" 

Eleanor's eyebrow twitched, and her mind battled between standing up to the challenge, or just ridiculously faking innocence like Carol. 

"You are recording this?" Eleanor moved to seat on the sofa, right in front of Dianna. At first, she wished to just enjoy the comfort of the cushion... but she remembered she was dirty and so, she sat on the edge. 

Dianna smiled, probably with sincerity for the first time, and signaled to the young woman. "Rick did the same," 

"I doubt that it is for the same reason. I won't want to soil your beautiful sofa. I think he just doesn't want to get too comfortable in an uncontrolled environment," 

"Uncontrolled?"

"Uncontrolled by him. Unknown... you know?" Eleanor specified. "This place is almost surreal by how long has it held intact. Were you here for long?"

"When it started, I was returning to my family in Ohio. But the military led us here, and we stayed here since," 

Eleanor nodded with an impassive expression, "Lucky," 

"That's what we also think," 

"No," she shook her head, "I don't think you realize how lucky you are," 

There was a small pause. 

"What did you do before?" 

Right to the heart of the issue? Eleanor frowned. "In what sense?" 

"Did you work? at a company maybe?" 

"Do I look like a business woman?" Eleanor said with a huff of mirth, "I was at Florida's South University," 

"What were you majoring in?"

"virology," 

Dianna nodded and her smile turned predatory again. Eleanor looked her up and down, and resisted the urge to shift on the sofa. 

"I was on my third year when it happened. After the outbreak, I treated wounds of the people that were in my group. When we found our first stable place, there was an infectious outbreak. I tried to manage it to the best of my capacities," 

"What happened?" 

Finally, Eleanor decided to lean back. She eyed Dianna, who now seemed captured by her explanation. Eleanor's expression turned even more neutral.... maybe lifeless. 

"There was a leader of a place much the same as this. It was called Woodbury, and he wanted to kill us to take our camp so that he could capture and adequate walkers to hold tournaments for his people's entertainment. The first time, his people rebelled against him and he lost it, shooting against everyone and running away. The second time, the disease occurred, we were weak; and despite we were outnumbered, some managed to escape. Actually the ones you see now are the ones who escaped… minus four," 

Dianna stopped smiling.

As if that satisfied her, Eleanor let out a huff. "His name was Philip, but he called himself the Governor," Eleanor moved to hover on the edge. "Aaron said that human resource is what this place is lacking. By the looks of it, you don't even know half of the things that can happen outside. And somehow, for you, we represent a change. What is it that you exactly want from us? Are we to be your bodyguards or something?" 

"We want to learn," 

Eleanor frowned, and Dianna made a fist with her right hand. "This... this is you, your group. Aaron told me that you never turned against each other, not even in the face of famine. Rick told me he was willing to do what it takes for his family. You... all of you love and care for each other as family, and yet, you come from different places, different backgrounds;"

"Are you saying it's not like that in here?" Eleanor half smiled, and lifted her eyebrows unimpressed. "It sure must be like the old times, when you had the chance to call your neighbor your neighbor… and nothing more,” she shrugged, “What you describe has been something hard to obtain. We've all lost something, a loved one, a part of our innocence... a piece of our heart and a heavy dose of our pride; and that loss resonates within in each one of us. We learned to control the amount of humanity we offer to others, so that we can keep ourselves alive," She shook her head, "And you are telling me you want to learn that? Are you willing to do what it takes?"

"It worked for him, didn't it?" 

Eleanor blinked, "Who?"

"Rick's kid. How old is he now... fourteen?" 

"Fifteen," Eleanor corrected, "He will turn sixteen in a month," 

"What's his name?"

"...Carl," Eleanor said, and she couldn't help the soft tone of her voice, she took a deep breath, "Carl Grimes," 

Dianna's predatory smile returned. "How old was he when it all began... twelve?" 

"Twelve, yes," Eleanor nodded. 

"That means you've known Rick since the beginning," 

Eleanor wide eyed. Damn, she fell right into it. Eleanor glared, and Dianna kept her merry disposition. 

"Where are you going with this?"

"That kid, Carl, doesn't carry a blade that matches one of his father's," she signaled to the young woman, "It matches yours. You... you were the one to give it to him. That means, you taught him how to use it," 

"...I did," Eleanor conceded, almost between her teeth. Dianna's eyes shone with pride. 

"He arrived here because of you-"

"No, you’re wrong;" It was the first time Eleanor cut the woman off, "Carl got where he is now by himself. I taught him, yes; but what I taught him was that nobody was going to save him… that he better learns how to fend for himself because sooner or later, he would find himself alone. Do you think it’s wholesome to see how this world consumes a child’s innocence?” she stopped and looked down, “And yet… he exceeded my expectations. He's responsible, independent, brave and even deadly,” she frowned, “But he is also caring, compassionate and protective. He is the most amazing person I know… but that didn’t come for free. Are your meaning to tell me that you want the same for the children that live here?" 

Slowly Dianna's demeanor changed. 

"Person?" 

"Yes, person," Eleanor insisted. "You'll see it for yourself. It's no real use treating him like a kid," 

"I thought that you wanted him to be here so that he could be a teenager, like the others, like his father," 

"But you just told me to treat the kids in here the same way I treat Carl. Ask his father, if he prefers his kid to be useful or useless… and you’ll realize that his wild dreams only fuel from his regret," 

She slowly blinked. And leaned back, crossing her hands. 

"It seems we are in a stalemate," 

"It appears to be that way," Eleanor mimicked her actions. 

"Is this a delicate subject for you? If so, I'll stop," she said and closed her eyes. 

Oh as if she was going to fall for such a maneuver. Eleanor remained impassive.

"It is not a delicate subject. I’m just throwing away the fanfare that comes with this situation. You say you want your people to be capable but as tight knitted as we are. You say that we are valuable, because of all that we’ve had to endure. You are also right, both Rick and I wish that the young children in our group get a chance to live something that was denied to them; and for that… I’m willing to share with you all of our… ‘secrets!” Eleanor said with an extra tone. “But there are certain things that come along with us, and I don’t like leaving unpleasant things to be dealed with later,”

“Unpleasant? What do you mean,”

“I’m willing to try this as much as Rick and the rest; but our approaches are very different. I need to have the assurance that I can speak to you with all sincerity, especially when there is some attitude that I consider dangerous, and that the people of Alexandria need to change," 

The woman let out a breath, as if he had finally liberated of a difficult interrogation. She smiled again that smile that was a mixture of sincerity and hypocrisy. 

"I'm glad to hear that. I also value sincerity over everything else; and while I'll admit Rick is a little unapproachable, I think I'll reach good terms with you easily," 

Good. Because this woman was dangerous, especially with people who didn't know how to speak to the devil. 

"Are... we finished?" 

"Yes, please... call in Carl next," she said with another predatory smile. Eleanor resisted any sign of reaction, she nodded, and walked away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What... in the fuck-!"

"-Carl," warned Rick. 

"-took you so long!" He complained, "what were you doing? Playing a board game?"

Eleanor huffed, "Almost. My head is hurting. You are up next, though guy," she said, tapping his shoulder. 

"Him?" Rick walked to her frowning, "why him?" 

"She asked for him," Eleanor said with a rise of her eyebrows. 

"She's asking for the kids too?" Maggie walked forward, beside her was Beth, and beside her was Noah. 

"It appears that way. But she's cunning, she's gathering information about us," Eleanor looked at Carl, who passed the baby to his father, "You need to be careful with what you say," 

Carl frowned, but nodded. Why was Eleanor so put off by this person... Dianna? If anything, it made him remember that one time their town's deputy came to talk about what he did as a job... and that had been fucking boring. Carl walked up the stairs, and his eyes trailed on the things inside. 

Books, vases, sofas. There was no dirt, and the things were not left lying around in chaos. 

There was no chaos. This house was not inhabited. 

"Hello, young man," 

Carl turned to regard the short, older woman. Her smile seemed nice.... but too perfect. 

It actually made him feel uncomfortable, as if he just went to the principal's office. 

"Hey," 

"Why don't you sit over there?" She signaled to the flowered sofa that stood giving its back to the chimney. Carl moved to sit, his body flopped over the cushion and he resisted a long breath. 

The woman smile turned wider, if possible, and Carl felt a little anxious. 

"What's the smile for?" 

She shook her head, "I just find it curious. Rick sat on the edge, and Eleanor did too but you... you flopped on the sofa without a second thought," 

Was there something on the sofa? Carl turned to look down, alarmed, and he glared at the older woman when she tried to suppress a giggle. 

"There's nothing on the sofa. What I meant to say was that.... despite everything you have lived, you're still a teen that looks for comfort," 

Dangerous. Ok. 

Carl resisted a blush. "Are we getting started?" 

"Yes," she said and got comfortable herself. "How old were you when it all began?" 

"Twelve," 

She smiled, "Were you and Eleanor from the same town?" 

What? He frowned, "No. We are from Georgia, she's from Florida;" 

"Oh, I understand. How did you meet?" 

"I thought Elle told you that-" 

"Elle," 

Carl wide eyed. No, he was giving away too much. He started feeling threatened, and he wished to be out of this place. 

He wished Eleanor was there with him. 

"Don't be so nervous. It's just, I noticed she cares for you a great deal, and now I see that the sentiment is mutual," she tried to explain with an understanding smile. "I wished to know how you met, and how come you are so close to each other... when you are not even related," 

Related? Was it so weird that Eleanor was part of them? That she loved them sincerely? 

He said nothing. 

"Where's your mom," 

"She died," 

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said with a frown. 

Loss?

"I... I didn’t just loose her," he looked down, and the nostalgic sting still attacked his heart, "I had to kill her. She was too weak after delivering Judith, Eleanor offered to do so... but I knew, it had to be me," 

Dianna stopped smiling, she swallowed and looked down. Then, as if blinded by strong light she flinched. 

"Why did it have to be you?" 

"Because she was my mother," Carl answered in a heartbeat, "would you let your own mother turn into a walker after she's died? Walkers not only appear after one is bitten, anyone that dies turns into a walker. It's something that must be done... unless you want them to keep suffering," 

"... Is this what Eleanor told you?" 

He gritted his teeth. As if he was going to fall for such a disgusting bait. "No. It was what WE found out, after we visited the CDC facility in Atlanta, and the last living specialist explained to us what was going on," 

"Where is that specialist now?" She insisted. 

"He committed suicide, along with others that were with us," 

She let out a sigh, "I'm sorry," 

"Why?" 

"Because you had to see that," she rubbed her temples. "You've been through a lot," 

"And I almost think you haven't seen enough," he let his arms fall over the armrests, and his hand supported his head, "that's not even half of what I've lived," 

He looked around. suddenly, Dianna was no longer so... condescending, yes, that was the word he was looking for. It was just like his parents when he was younger, talking down what they knew as if he couldn't understand. 

That thought immediately sent him to Eleanor. She never talked down to him, but played down the situations, what was different. She provided enough information to keep him in high alert, but not enough to make him feel anxious. 

This woman, Dianna, was keen on knowing the nature of the relationship between him and Elle. At first, he was defensive, of course, their relationship was trying to evolve in a maddening slow pace. He feared other people getting in between them, specially people like Dianna, who tended to think the always knew better. But now; now he wondered what was the real purpose of this insistence. By what Eleanor and him hid from her, there was no way for her to know what was going on.... 

Carl analyzed her words, and slowly, he could see a pattern. 

"How many teens are in here?" 

Dianna looked up, and forced a smile, "three, and counting you and the others, much... much more," 

Please, he wasn't interested in that, "how many of them had killed a walker?" 

Her smile disappeared again, "none," 

"How many of them know how to dismantle, clean, and then put a weapon back in this place?" 

"... none," she frowned, "why are you-" 

"Eleanor taught me all that I know. And by your questions I can just assume you want her to do the same with the others," 

"Yes but... never with children," she said a little put off. 

"Then, this is futile," Carl moved to the edge of the seat. 

"Futile?" She insisted. 

"I mean, with that mentality. Everyone needs to learn to handle a weapon, to kill walkers, to fend for themselves. Someone protecting another can go for so long; it can be done.... but it can't go on forever," he swallowed some saliva and nodded, "we thank the opportunity to live in a place like this, but we won't sacrifice ourselves for your safety," 

Finally, he saw an honest reaction. She lifted her eyebrows, she was genuinely surprised.... or probably impressed. She nodded, as if considering his words. 

"I understand," 

".... you do?" Carl frowned. 

"Yes!" She stood, and walked around the love-seat, "thank you for your time Carl,"

"What?" He looked around him, "we are done?"

"Yes," she said with a nod, "Call the blond girl next, and the ones who had already been interviewed can leave with Aaron, to show them where you'll be staying," 

"... Okay," Carl said with a smile, he tipped his hat as farewell, and walked outside. 

Eleanor, Rick and Judith were already with Aaron, this one looked at him and beckoned Carl over. Soon after they started walking up the main road. 

"So; how did it go?" Asked Eleanor 

"Awkward," 

"What did she ask?" His father asked next.

"I suppose the same thing that she asked you. How come we are so hunky dory with each other. One would say that she's almost envious," 

"I'm still here you know," began Aaron, "I could-" 

"-you are not a threat. And I hardly believe you'd pay our kindness for Eric by betraying us that way," 

The man stuttered, and Eleanor snickered. 

"Where are we going Aaron Salesman?" 

He sighed, "we have two houses that you can use," he said, and stopped and turned to the right. 

Two houses? Carl turned and followed his gaze.

His mouth almost fell open at the 'houses' they were meant to use. They were huge, two to three stores... if you counted the attic. That was so much space, a lot of space. 

Carl could feel himself getting a giddy feeling. Was he going to have a room of his own... again!

Could he.... could he share that room with...?

He madly blushed. And his mind drifted from other types of worry until his father spoke.

"Well use one for now," Rick whispered and Aaron nodded. 

"It's okay, really. Were I in your shoes, I would do the same,"

To that, his own excitement downed. It was true, being separated was not an option at the moment. Owning things and choosing things wasn't also a good idea either. Carl sighed, clearly in conflict. He wanted to believe this was good, that this was what his mother wanted for them and what he should accept... for a moment.... as a child. But at the same time, he understood the mistrust they felt and that he needed to look at things from a more mature side. 

Even he could grow tired of that. 

"How's Eric?" Eleanor asked. The man turned to her and smiled tenderly. And another emotion plagued his being. 

Are you hitting on him? 

"He's at the clinic, the doctor is checking on him now," 

"you have a medical bay.... with a real-real doctor?" She sounded excited.

He grinned, "yup. Maybe you can visit him later, I know you are interested on those things," he put a hand on her shoulder, "thank you, again," 

"It's okay," she said with a smile of her own, "we'll look around for a while. See you later?" 

"Sure," 

He waved and walked away. 

See you later? 

As in, she was expecting to see him again? She was aware he was gay right? 

"Oh for-!" She exclaimed and Carl jumped. She had an exasperated gaze.

"What?" He said with a glare.

"Your....," she began but stopped midway. "Do catch up. You are going to be more sociable from now on," she said while walking to the entrance.

What.... what was she talking about?

"We can't trust them," Rick interviewed, and stepped to stop her from opening the front door. 

"You need to stop mixing the two concepts," Eleanor said with a huff, "Looking constipated all the time is only going to reveal to the world your true intentions. Wouldn't it be better to HIDE the fact that you don't trust them? Hm? Maybe that way they would let down their guard and we could be able to get more useful information," 

So, she was being friendly with Aaron just because she wanted to have the upper hand? 

Just like with Alex?

The image of her with a leash on her neck returned, and Carl felt it annoyed him now as much as it did then. 

Carl trailed his eyes on Eleanor, and caught the moment she crouched, searching for her karambit. A sense of relief made him forget why he was annoyed. She was on the same mind as him. With more confidence, he also pulled out his blade, and they both moved forward. 

He heard his dad growling and walking to the kitchen. Carl smirked, if he didn't think about keeping a blade hidden for this, it was his loss.

They separated, each searching around a room and checking it was empty. Carl walked to the second floor once they searched the first one. These was where the rooms were; Carl advanced quietly to search around the rooms until he found something that caught his attention. 

A large TV, and a music player with a whole insane, even obscene amount of CDs. He smiled, recognizing some signers Eleanor cited by heart; and then he inspected the bed. A blue cover blanket with a very neat cut wood frame. 

Yup, when his father got over his trust issues, he was taking this one for himself. 

"Ahh!" 

That was Eleanor. Carl's stomach flipped over, and he made a mad run back to the hallway. 

He knew, he knew this place was too good to be true. 

"Eleanor! What! What is it!" He called, and entered the room with the first opened door. 

It was the bathroom, and Eleanor turned with her hands on the shower knobs. 

"Look at this Carl! Look at this!" She opened one, and the water fell as rain over her arm. "it's warm water!" 

He stood very still, and then, too a deep breath. 

"...Good think you are alive, then" he said as he walked over, "Because I'm going to kill you," 

"Eek!!" She yelped, when he pushed her shoulders forward. The water reached her head and she sputtered and hugged him. "Hey! What's wrong with you!" 

"Wrong with me? Why did you scream!" he said, still struggling. "You scared the shit out of me!" 

"Okay I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She screamed back, "Stop that before we-" 

But it was too late. Eleanor slipped and fell inside the basin. It was deep, her legs bended upwards, and also lost his footing... feeling he was going to hit the tiles. 

"Careful!" He heard, and a pair of arms wrapped around his head, and soon after his forehead collided with something soft. 

He looked up, Eleanor had hugged him before he got a concussion, and now he was awkwardly lodged on her chest. 

"Owww!" She rubbed her nape while laughing, "happy now? Ah!" She flinched, the water was still running, and Carl could feel his back burning. "Too hot! Ay!"

She stretched over to close the shower, and silence was made. 

Slowly, Carl looked up. They were drenched, he was painfully stretched and Eleanor was still giggling... and yet; the atmosphere, it was not the same for him. 

Drenched as they were, uncomfortable as they were; he had the urge to draw in closer. It was almost scary; how it suddenly grew inside of him. It was the same desire and longing he felt when he thought Elle didn't like him and yet, it was the mixture of excitement he feeling when he kissed her for the first time. He didn't know how to describe it. 

All he understood was that he had no dignity left. He wanted endless contact, even if he had to kneel and beg for it. 

Eleanor's pretty brown eyes turned to him, and she wide eyed. Carl stretched his arms, trying to move closer to her face, they trembled. Did she also feel that way? Was she also consumed by such desperate wishes? 

If he were to ask, how would she name them? 

"Was this your plan from the start?" She whispered, and her hand cup his face. She moved him closer to her, and his arms finally held leverage against the wall. 

"No, but I'll take credit," he whispered back. Their breaths clashed against each other's skins, and Carl wondered how much longer will it take them to give in. 

"What's going on up there!" 

His father. 

Eleanor drowned a gasp, and now tried to push him away. He frowned, and instinctively used his body weight to fight against her. 

"Carl!" She whispered alarmed. He could hear the man's steps on the stairs, growing closer and closer. 

Carl let out a sigh. And stood up. 

Eleanor scrambled back inside the basin and tried her best not to slip and fall as she stepped out of it. His father arrived at the bathroom just as Carl was pulling out a towel to dry himself. 

"Is this your way to search the place?" He asked, folding his arms and glaring at them both. 

"We already registered all of it, it's clear," Carl explained, "Eleanor got too excited about the shower, and scared me for nothing," 

"I just gasped! Can't a normal person gasp in excitement?" She pouted, looking the other way. 

One would say that she was one good actress. 

"Since that's the case, you go in first," Rick explained. "The master room has another bathroom right?" 

"Y-yes," Carl said nervous. He never arrived to the master room. "Though I'm not sure if it has a shower, I walked pass by it," 

"Okay I'll check. You are drenched, go in there," he moved to walk out of the room, but at the last moment, his father turned to face them. 

"Once you are done, come down. We've got to talk," 

Chapter Text

Eleanor exited the shower with a sense of complete bliss and the weight of foreboding inside her chest. 

Because it was the first time she took a shower in a year and a half. The first time she used hot water since Atlanta... were those really four years that passed? Who would have guessed hot water felt so good? 

And the shampoo, and the soap, and the razor. Oh my good, the moisturizer. 

She almost wanted to have a hot shower every single day. Just how decadent that sounded.

Maybe not as decadent as the fact that once she found clothes for herself and changed, she would be having that conversation with Rick. 

She wrapped a towel around her frame, and tiptoed around the rooms trying to find one of her own. It was true that, as she took longer to change, she would take longer to face this moment. She had already rested an obscene amount of time inside the shower, but eventually she had to come out. Finally Eleanor entered a room almost in front of the bathroom. 

It had a large green bed, and a metal bed-frame. The whole arrangement looked almost like a girls room. She liked it. Eleanor walked to the drawers, and soon two piles started to form: those clothes who fit her and she liked... and those who she didn't like. 

She changed one pair of Jeans, a white top and a light blue cardigan; she was about to dry her hair when she heard a knock on the door and she almost jumped in fear. 

"A minute! I'm going down in a minute!" 

"Moron, it's me," 

She pouted and walked to the front door. She opened it in a yank, but frowned in confusion at the empty space in front of her. 

"The other one, genius!" 

"Argh!" She growled and closed the door, "where are you, the closet!" She looked around. 

It was almost imperceptible, but there was a door that merged with the wall's color. She yanked it open, and was ready to answer back to his comments. 

But her heart stopped after an irregular heartbeat. 

His hair was curling around in an awkward form, but the soft and light brown color had her a little spaced. Her eyes traveled down to his shoulders. He was using a black tank top under a blue flannel shirt. Unlike the other times she's seen him use this... this one actually fit him, and his back looked wider than before. She used all her willpower to NOT look at the jeans. She barely noticed they were black. 

"You look good," she tried to joke, but her voice caught up her throat in the end. She turned red, and looked away. "W-we should go down," 

"...my dad's in the shower," she turned right back at him. "He wanted to use yours, but I came out first. Did you drown in there by any chance?" 

She glared and he laughed. 

"Oh my, you are so funny," she said with sarcasm. She walked to the bed and Carl closed the door behind him. 

"Your tactic was so obvious that my father decided to clean up first," he looked around, "your hair is dripping water, where is the towel?" 

"Ah! Here," she lifted it from the bed. "You know, it wasn't a tactic, it was mere panic. He told me this would happen, but it's too soon,"

"He did?"

They both sat, Carl was behind her, and she sighed contented when she felt her hair being lifted and twisted between the towel. 

"Back when you saw us talking. He apologized to me," she smiled a little, "and then told me if there was something he should know. He said he's known for a while now... but he wants to hear our story," 

She heard nothing behind her, so she stretched until her head reached his chest. Carl looked down, the hair had slipped out of his hands but he did nothing. He twisted his mouth and nodded. 

"It doesn't surprise me, he's very observant," 

She squinted, "why do I have this feeling that you were purposely obvious?" 

He grinned, and reached down to peck her nose, "It's your mind who's playing tricks on you," 

"Right....," 

"Get back up, I'm not finished," he said, and she obeyed. 

"It's nice, this place." She commented. 

"Almost too good to be true right?" Carl asked. 

"Yeah....," she stretched her arms, "but if something bad could happen, it would have happened already. Once we get used to it, we'll redecorate this house," 

"I already chose my room," 

"You mean, the one that is oddly connected to this one?" 

Wasn’t that practically sharing one room? Eleanor blushed deeply, and a giddy sensation took hold of her chest. She would have missed the times when she slept beside Carl, it gave her peace, it made her nightmares disappear. With this arrangement, they could keep doing that... if they wanted to.

"I don't think your dad would approve-"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. We could put a hanger over it," she felt him leaning on her shoulder, "Are you going to tell him?" 

"....no?" She said with a giggle. She couldn't see Carl but she felt him snuggle and breathe in her hair. She giggled again, when she felt her hair being lifted and tangled in his fingers. 

"Having fun?" 

"It's been a while," he sighed, "I missed this...  Hmm," he mumbled against her nape. "And we didn't have shampoo at the prison, what did you use?" 

"I found one lying around, I'm not sure," 

"I like the scent," 

"Okay then, I'll use it often," she said amused. "What if I want to smell your hair too?" 

She turned, and his soft breathing warmed her face. They were so close, and she couldn't help but think they would kiss at any moment. 

"Knock yourself out," he whispered, but gave her no more access. She smirked and turned fully to hug him and pass her nose from his neck to his temple. 

There was a knock on the door. She jumped back, biting her lip. Carl rolled his eyes letting out a sigh. 

"I'll be downstairs, hurry up," 

She looked panicked around her. Carl lifted his chin, motioning her to answer. 

"O-okay,"

They heard him walking to Carl's room. 

The teenager stood in a jump and opened the secret door. Once it closed, Eleanor pressed her ear against it and heard while Rick opened the door, asking if everything was alright. Eleanor wide eyed, when Carl said that there was nothing wrong, and also agreed with his father when he said he would be downstairs. 

Finally, she could hear the heavy footsteps going down the stairs. Slowly, she opened the door and peeked inside. Carl was resting cross-legged over the bed. He had a random book open. 

"Smooth," she said impressed

"Unlike you," he commented, closing the book and getting up with a smug grin. "Ready to face the dragon?"

"Aw, fuck you!" she said and she heard him laugh behind her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carl jumped when Eleanor half shrieked - half gasped beside him. Why did she do that! Everytime she did, he felt ten years of his life were sucked away. 

He glared at her, but Eleanor was enraptured on something. 

In the kitchen, beside the back door of the house, was his dad and a woman he didn't know. 

"Oh my God Grimes! I forgot there was a face under all that man bush!" She walked forward. The woman behind his father smiled, "and you even got a haircut! You look as young as the day I met you, whoah!" 

"I don't know not to feel about that," he commented, and signaled behind him, "Eleanor, this is Ms. Anderson, she offered to give me a haircut," 

“Hello Ms. Anderson,”

"Just call me Jessie, that way I don't have to call you Ms. Grimes," 

Carl did a double take. Had she just...?

"Oh! We are not-!" 

"Her surname is Shery. We are not together," 

Exactly, that was his place. Carl glared at the clueless stranger. His father sighed, bothered by the awkward atmosphere. Eleanor shared a strained giggle, and the woman Jessie moved to blink in confusion. She looked around, and her eyes landed on him. 

"Hi, you must be Carl," she said and waved. "I have a son just your age, his name is Ron," 

How the hell did she know he was his age? This was pointless... Carl resisted the urge to say something mean, and only nodded in acknowledgement.

"Will you take longer? We could look around the other house in the meantime," 

"Oh no, I'm almost finished. I you have something to do with your dad and...," she stopped, Carl imagined to make that brain work again, "Ellie, it will be okay," 

Ellie? 

"Yes, then, we'll wait at the living room," Eleanor put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him to move. 

"Did you see that!"

"Carl! Shush," 

"Why is she even here! The nerve...." Carl whispered with a frown. "She's trying to spy on us!" 

"Okay, CIA agent...," she said with a  giggle, "you wanna know what I saw? I  saw her interested in your dad," 

What? 

He frowned and cringed. They sat on the sofa, and Carl moved his arm to rest over it, casually going around Eleanor. 

She didn't notice. 

 "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" 

"It's better to think that Rick and I are together... ohohoho... no, no, no, no," she said with a cackle. 

"Gee.... you know he's my dad right? There's resemblance," 

"Are you serious? You'd rather i-" 

"No," 

She blurted a giggle, "well. I would never think of your dad that way, I projected my own dad in him," 

Carl stopped his tirade. He looked forward and nodded in uh understanding. 

Most of Eleanor's stories had her dad in them. He almost felt as if he knew the guy, and he actually thought he was kind of cool. Carl could understand how Eleanor saw her father in his... he could easily do the same. Actually, sometimes he thought his father and Elle's were very much alike, and he was grateful for it. 

His inner child still wanted to be as cool as Eleanor, and having something like that in common was actually very flattering. 

"Good bye, Ellie, good bye Carl," 

They turned. The woman Jessie was waving at them. She was leaving. Her blue eyes landed on Carl's arm. But she made no comment, and he made no movement. 

"It was a pleasure meeting you Jessie," Eleanor added with a smile. 

"Any time. Actually I was hoping Carl would come by and meet my boys, they often play with the other kids in my house. I  think it would be a great way to integrate," 

Joy. 

The door rattle closed after that, and soon after. He could hear Michonne, Maggie and Carol arriving. They all moved to look around and take a shower. And some more minutes passed before his father sat on the sofa opposite to them. 

Still, Carl made no movement to pull his arm away. 

"Not subtle about it. I see," his father commented. 

"What do you mean?" Eleanor asked, clearly confused. She turned around herself, and finally. He bent his arm to make it as if he was just scratching his head. 

"From the beginning, Elle and I made it clear that this was not going to be secret. I wanted to tell you sooner, but many things happened," 

"Yeah, they did," he said with that tired but stern voice he had when he was in no mood to eat bullshit, "they are not happening now," he opened his arms.

...Silence. 

"I want you to be sincere with me. This is the chance you have to make me understand," 

Carl felt Eleanor swallow beside him. He wasn't sure, but the fact she was so nervous actually made him feel braver. That was a relief. 

"When did it start?" Asked his father. As if to make his point clear, he signaled to him, "you.... for you, when did it happen?" 

Carl took a deep breath, and he could feel himself blushing… If he had a choice, he would have taken this to his grave. Still, he needed to be sincere, so he steeled himself,  

"I think it's always been within me, ever since I was twelve," he began, and tried hard not to look to his right. "I didn't know then... but the feeling never changed. It only became clearer," he looked down, "back when.... we reached Terminus, I understood what it was. later on, it only matured to be what it is now,"

"What," Rick pressed, "attachment?" 

Carl huffed, he’ll be damned if he said it outloud like this; "Sure. Also worry, also trust, and friendship, longing, and need," 

Eleanor cleared her throat. Yeah, maybe the 'need' should have remained hidden.  His father took a breath and nodded. Then, he turned to Eleanor. 

"Is it the same for you?" 

She moved to speak, but only stuttered before looking down. Then she sighed. 

"The way Carl describes it.... maybe it happened for me around the time we reached Hershel's farm," she began. "I once told you that I projected my father's relationship on the one that you had with Carl.... but, along the way, I just..." she shook her head.

Brown eyes collided with blue ones... unlike him, and she smiled.

"I found myself caring for his well being, in every sense... cheering him up when he was sad, giving him advice when he was in doubt, staying with him when he was alone. I suddenly couldn't think my life would be worthwhile if he wasn't there; or if he wasn’t happy...,"  she twisted her fingers, "I don't know when it happened but I started to feel that.... I needed the same, and that the only person who would give me the same would be him. Even when… that happened to me; even when I was afraid and I could not let anyone touch me without triggering it… Not Carl. I can only feel safe with him," 

Carl looked away, blushing, but his fingers started playing with her hair. 

Rick just looked back and forth. 

"He's just a teen-"

"That's not the point dad," Carl warned.

"That's putting too much responsibility on his shoulders," he continued. Carl was about to answer back, but Eleanor stopped him. 

"I am aware of that," she began, "and I blame myself for the hard decisions he had to take for my sake. But that's not because he's a child. But because he's him.... being young or old doesn't entitle you to be less or more capable," 

His father grit his teeth. 

"Does Eugene have the right to make more and better decisions than Carl?" 

Eugene? Carl frowned and didn't notice his father did the same. Useless, lying, coward Eugene could make better decisions than him? 

He wide eyed. The idea finally sinking in. 

"It's different," 

"Why? Because he's  older?" 

"Survival has nothing to do with this," Rick moved forward. "This is what I'm afraid of. You base your argument that Carl is mature enough on his instinct of survival. I'm talking here about his emotional growth-" 

"I'm emotionally mature too," Carl defended, "at least, to know that your intentions are good. I realized I cared for Elle that way naturally. It wasn't forced out of me. She didn't coerce me, and I made the choice to wait for as long as it took," he pulled his arm away, and folded them in front of him, "whatever this is," he signaled to his father," it's just because we want to do right by you," 

"Right by me?" Rick lifted his eyebrows. 

"Carl," Wleanor warned. But he could care less. 

This interrogation, he's had enough. 

"You can tear us apart as you did before. The fact that I will return to Elle's side won't change. The same way I’ll do if you try to shove a clueless teen on me to be my girlfriend. Once I'm of age, Elle and I, we'll be back as if nothing happened," 

"Is that a threat?" His father growled.

Carl moved to stand. 

"Okay, I think this is getting out of hand," Eleanor said, putting a hand on Carl's shoulder and another one extended to the front. 

"Rick, I understand what you mean and you are right. Carl is young-" 

"Elle!" 

"Sh!" She said while whipping her head a millisecond.

"I don't intend to inform you of a decision that’s been taken. You are his father, and that will never change for me. I won't over step on your authority. I just want you to consider this," she began, and took a breath.

Carl had a bad feeling. What.... What was she implying?

"if you think I would harm Carl in any way by being beside him, you have all the right-" 

"Eleanor," Carl said, almost panicked, her hand traveled from his shoulder to his hand. She squeezed it tight. 

"You can tell me to step away, and I will. That won't change what I feel, and I'll accept Carl's decisions as much as yours when the time comes." 

His father didn't  move, nor did she. 

"We want the same thing  and that's for Carl to be happy. I'm no stranger Rick, you know that above else, his well being is my priority," 

As if attacked by a bear, they remained unmoving. Carl couldn't begin to comprehend what Eleanor meant. Did she mean to walk away from him, if push came to shove, until he could decide for himself? 

He didn't want to waste so much time on something so petty. 

His father let out the air he was holding with a tired sigh, he rubbed his eyes.

"How far have you gotten?" 

Eleanor stood very straight, and from his side he could see her madly blushing. 

"We just kissed," Carl provided, more subdued. 

"Is that true?"  

"Yes," Eleanor said. She didn't waver. 

The former sheriff nodded. And he looked at his hands. 

"Would you have gotten farther if I didn't approve-?" 

"What? No! What the heck do you think of me!" Eleanor said, alarmed. Rick lifted his hands in signal of peace. 

"Then when would that be alright for you?" 

"..eighteen," /"sixteen," 

Rick shook his head and wide eyed. "Excuse me?" 

Eleanor turned to him, "are you trying to sabotage me!" She said in an angry whisper. 

"Are you kidding ME? Eighteen! What's wrong with you!" He whispered back. 

"Hey," his father growled, and they both turned to him. 

"... sixteen is Washington's legal age of consent-" 

"Where did you even read that!" Eleanor said, alarmed. Carl shrugged

"Somewhere,"

"Oh ho! 'Somewhere' you say-!"  

"Seventeen," 

They stopped, and turned to his father. 

Carl needed to hear it again, he was willing to leave them be? After just a year? 

"Don't be mistaken,"  he lifted his hand, "we'll take this slow. You two; show to me that you can handle it, and you are free to marry if you like... once he's seventeen," 

"Are... you serious?" Eleanor was the one who asked. "Don't.... you think, you could give this a little more thought-" 

"Shut up!" Carl whispered "we take it," he said out loud.

His father sighed, and huffed a smile. A smile! Was this happening? Was this some kind of test? 

"Don't think so badly of me. I also worry about you," he said, looking at Eleanor, "I know... I've not always been right by you, even when I promised you I would. But I just want you to understand what having a relationship like this one entails. Especially because you will soon start having other life projects..... that will be different from the ones of Carl. Your times won’t match, and you might have to sacrifice those projects in the end. Are you ready to face that?" 

Carl blinked. What life protects? He looked at Eleanor expecting an answer, but the woman had gone very serious... even sad. Carl started to feel really panicked; what were these life projects? What was that he didn't know?

"I'm aware of all that. I've.... thought about that," Eleanor said with a soft voice. "Carl is still more important," 

The teenager looked at his father, who nodded in understanding. 

"I don't want you to get hurt," 

"Yes, I know… I won’t." she said with a smile, "what are the rules," 

"..." his father scratched his chin, "I know I can't put a chaperone both of you-" 

"What!" 

"Carl, I'm not finished," his father said as a warning. He let himself fall on the sofa. "Since I can't watch you every minute, you won't be left alone together for now-" 

"What!?" 

"Do you want our deal to be off?" 

"At any time?" Eleanor, asked. "In any place?" 

He huffed and smirked. The bastard. Carl glared with ire. He was not going to follow any of this. 

"Only at nights, or at evenings, or when getting too comfortable with each other may lead to… other things. Is that enough?"

"okay,"

Rick nodded,  and turned to his son, "Carl?" 

".... fine," the teen bit out.

"Good. Also, I want you both to spend the most of your time with people YOUR age," the signaled to him, "that means, you'll visit Jessie and play with Ron, and go to the classes with the other kids, and participate- PARTICIPATE.... Carl, of all children activities-"

Carl groaned, and let his face fall between his hands. 

"Do we have a deal?" He insisted. 

"Ugh... Fine!" 

"And you," Carl assumed he was signaling to Eleanor, "Diana has two sons your age. Get to know each other," 

Carl's head shot back up as a rocket. He moved to the edge in outrage. 

"Why does she have to meet with two guys! Why not Maggie, or Sasha! They are her age!" 

Rick lifted his eyebrows, "Afraid?" 

"No," Carl said either  sneer, "but-" 

"You just said you love each other. I don't think this poses a threat," 

This was vile. Carl crossed his arms and fell back. As he saw it, Eleanor would be her normal, gentle, friendly self; and she would inevitably attract the attention of too many nuisances. Nuisances that he had to deal with later.This 'deal' was not good.... not good at all. 

"I can join the watch routine," she provided, "though I was hoping to train myself in the infirmary. I'll actually be busy," 

"Good," Rick nodded. 

Then he squinted his eyes. And looked from him to Elle and back. 

What...? There was more? 

"No sleeping together from now on," he signaled to Carl as he moved to stand, "Don't even try. This is final. Sit down," 

He moved slowly, squinting just as his father. 

"It's okay, we'll do all that," Eleanor said while resting her hand once again on his knee. She squeezed  and Carl blushed despite his anger. 

Oh they were going to talk later. 

Rick nodded. 

"...,"

"...," the woman cleared her throat. "I'll go take a look around the place. See how big it is... and stuff," 

"Okay," Rick said and turned to his son, "and you?" 

"...," oh this WAS a test, "I'll go to Miss. Anderson's," 

"Well said," he stood, "see you in an hour," 

They walked away in silence, and Carl offered to open the door just as Dianna was about to knock on the door. 

They stared blankly at the woman. The first one to greet her was Eleanor. Behind the female were the rest of them, dispersing. 

"Wow...," she said, looking from Eleanor to him, then looking past them. "Wow! Who is this!" 

Carl heard Eleanor giggling beside him. It didn't seem that big of a deal for him, but his father did seem more civilized. 

"Dianna, hey;" Eleanor said with a smiley face. The woman turned to them and nodded. 

"You also look good," 

"Thank you," she said with a raise of her eyebrows, "What brings you here?" 

"Oh well, since you three are here, it will make it easier for me," Three? Carl turned to see his father behind them, "I was hoping to give you a list of possible jobs for every one of you. You don't have to integrate just yet. Rest for now, take in your surroundings, and then the day after tomorrow you will start your activities," 

She extended two neat  looking papers stapled to each other. Eleanor took it, and passed them to Rick. 

"That's actually very kind Dianna, thank you," 

"It's alright," she said with a too much of a welcoming smile, then she walked away, waving.

"that was....," 

"Weird," Carl provided 

"Yeah, weird," Added Eleanor. 

"Get going," Rick said, waving the papers, "I'll look through this," 

Michonne just walked downstairs, and asked what it was. Carl couldn't hear the rest. Eleanor pushed him outside and closed the door behind her.  

Silence trailed. And Carl took a deep breath, before briskly pacing to the left. 

"On a hurry, I see,"  

He didn't turn. "That's funny coming from you. I'm going to the Andersons, as I said. And as YOU said, you should be going somewhere else," 

"I’m going. It’s in the same direction,” 

“Well then. Step away from me,” 

She giggled again, “It seems you have misinterpreted something," 

Carl frowned, and finally turned. He really had no mood for this. 

But then, he stilled. Eleanor had closed in on him, and she leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

"Do you want to die?" 

"Do you know what a loophole is?" 

His frown never left him, and Eleanor grinned. "This deal is not so bad. Your father told us to not be too close. But as I’m seeing this, I'm just walking you to the Andersons,” she looked to the side and hugged. “Also, he said we couldn’t sleep together, but did he ever say we could not kiss? Did he say that we could not hold hands? or Have a date one day or another?" 

"...,"

"...,"

"I'm not doing this in public," he said and kept walking. She laughed, and Carl just did his best to ignore her. 

He might feel scammed, he might even feel a little betrayed. Still, he also felt relieved, because it was finally out, they were officially together, and as Eleanor said... there were things that were not prohibited; once you came to justify them. 

Even so, he was not about to give her right.

Chapter Text

Ron Anderson made him remember Patrick. 

It was not to say that Ron Anderson was just like Patrick. On a surface level it might seem like it, but in the end it was not. Ron was shorter than average.... like Patrick. Ron looked lanky, even weak; like Patrick. Ron had a prominent nose that made him look like a nerd, like Patrick. 

But Ron was not as innocent as a younger child, or quirky, or friendly and welcoming as Patrick had been. As soon as Carl stepped into his house and was presented as a new play buddy, Ron tried to establish himself as ‘the leader’.

It wasn’t obvious either, but he talked to Carl as if he had just lived a traumatic experience -well… he did- and the fact it happened made him cry every night before he went to sleep. 

It was annoying. But Carl decided to let it go… given that an argument with the cool kid on the block could very much anger his father and then; other less amiable measures would be taken for him to keep away from Eleanor.  

"Your group seems really tattered," he shrugged, "Good thing you are finally safe in here right? How far did you come from? we’ve got people from Arkansas, you know?"

Carl rolled his eyes as soon as Ron looked away. Tattered? Did he even know what that word meant? Did he even know what it took for them to really be “tattered”?

Has he ever got out of this pretty little birdcage? 

"You know, there are not much of us… so you’ll probably be given anything if you play your cards right," Ron smirked and attempted a wink, “Stick with me, I’ll show you how to do it,”

“Cool, thanks,” Carl strained a smile, and followed him upstairs. Then, he heard a familiar rattle. "What... is that?" 

"What... you've never heard of video games before?" Ron joked. 

Right. This place had electricity galore. A game console was nothing. Not like the prison. 

"I have. But it's been a while," Carl relented with a shove of his head, "you play often?" 

"Well, we hang around every time we don't have school. There us not much for us to do either way..." 

"You have a school here?" 

Ron turned, surprised. Carl looked to the sides. What? What is too weird? He hadn’t touched a math book in literal years. Was he now going to regain his life as a teenager, going to school? Making friends?

How… How much catch up did he have to make?

"Yeah well...," the boy said with a little roll of the eyes, "it's actually a garage. We go in the afternoons and the younger kids go in the mornings," 

Carl nodded in understanding; still, he was low key starting to panic. A life that was so different from his current one. A life that was supposed to be normal, felt so alien to him… so alien, that he wasn’t even sure what he was doing. 

How had he come to this?

No, he perfectly knew how he came to this moment. He was abandoned by Eleanor right at the Andersons' door. He started to freak out, because she didn't think twice before knocking on the door and walking away. That left him and his panicked and awkward self to have to deal with Miss-understanding Anderson by himself. 

Just like the time he first met her, she offered a welcoming smile. Delighted, she urged him inside and then presented him to her son, Ron… and was once again abandoned. 

Now Ron was going to abandon him inside a room full of children. He was sure of it.  

The door opened, and the first thing his eyes caught was a large slim TV, larger than he was  ever seen before. He then looked around, a guy was almost merging his face with the screen; he wasn’t using an old Nintendo console, that was certain. Additional movement made him turn to the right. A teenage girl was lying on the bed, she still had her boots on and she never raised her gaze out of her comic. 

Okay, only two more. 

He didn’t like that either. 

It was weird to describe it, he felt panicked to be in a room full of children, but at the same time it excited him to see more of them. Adults were all he had seen for years apart from Judith; and despite acting like an adult all the time, he often wondered if there would be other teens like him out there. 

He understood now that he missed Patrick. Hell, he even missed Lizzie. 

 “...,”

Ron cleared his throat, "Well, this is Mike... aaaaand Enid," 

"...,"

They turned to him directly. 

Okay, he shall erase all the previous thoughts from his memory. He was not ready for this, with the two of them looking at him like he had three heads. He felt too selfconcious, and wanted them all to look somewhere else. 

Shit, he should have told Beth and Noah to join. They weren't too old, were they? He felt as if he needed some more people on his side to feel safe. 

The memory of another person struck him suddenly. He thought of Sophia. By now, she would be as old as him. Maybe he would have brought her over, or even talked about this moment later. 

It was a tragedy that she didn't get to live when he and Judith did. 

"Pull it together, sport," 

Carl blinked, and looked around him. Ron and Mike were now looking at him with a strange mixture of fear and pity. Had Ron asked something? Had they said anything? What kind of expression was he making for her to even say that? 

He needed a way out, fast. 

What to say? 

There was only one good way to get out of this moment. 

"Sorry," he said with his best Eleanor impression, "I lost myself there. It's  been a while since I've seen a console working," 

"That sounds tragic," Ron commented and they laughed. Carl let a relieved sigh escape discreetly. 

"Wanna play?" 

"Sure. What are you playing?" Carl asked, walking forward. 

"Counter strike?.... It’s a first person shooting, see?” he signaled to the disembodied hands with a rifle; “normally there are missions against the machine, but we are on versus mode," 

"Cool," he nodded with a smile. 

"Do you know how to play? maybe we can start with one person missions-” 

“Come on! He's been on the road for who knows how long. He must know at least how a gun works, right?” Ron cut Mike off, and patted Carl’s back. 

The teenager strained his mouth and lifted his eyebrows at Mike. If he was ever doubtful that Ron didn’t know half of what he was talking about… he was certain now. 

“I don’t like to play alone. How about we try a versus mode, and see how I fare?” 

“I like how you say that,” Mike joked; immediately after, Ron teased Mike about “liking” what he said, and Carl rolled his eyes. “Right, right, you idiot! Okay! We'll sort who goes first," he joked and moved to pull an overused dice.  

Carl walked forward. The one to draw first was Mike, who got a 5; then Ron who got a 3, and then they gave the dice to him. He turned to give one last look to Enid, who just passed another page of her comic. 

"You are not playing?" 

She lifted her gaze, looking from Mike to Carl with the biggest sense of disinterest he's ever seen. 

"She never plays with rookies," Ron explained, almost proud. 

Huh. 

"Okay then," Carl said and let his dice fall with a smirk. "Let's  see how much of a rookie I am," 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eleanor knocked a second time, and huffed relieved at the steps that came to meet it. 

A blond woman. 

"Hey," Eleanor said with her most charming smile. 

"Hi," the woman said, "are... you are from the new group, am I right?" 

"Yup! name's Eleanor Shery; but you can just call me Ellie," she said, extending her hand.

"Hie Ellie.... I'm Denise," the woman shook it and stepped inside, "is any of your group injured?" 

"Oh well..., not really," she commented with a giggle, "I just came because... this is the medical bay and," Eleanor made a flourish with her hand, "While I was out there I normally  was in charge of healing everybody. I wanted to know if the help was needed here or.... maybe I could learn something," 

Well, not something. How about everything. 

Denise turned with a raise of the eyebrows. "You are a nurse?" 

"Not... really? I'm a biologist, but one thing led to another and I learnt along the way. Are you a doctor?"

"Psychiatrist," Denise said with a nervous smile. 

"Oh wow! But, I mean, you have studies in medicine," Eleanor said impressed, "and psychology, that's two for one!" 

Finally, she giggled. Eleanor smiled, and was about to insist, when a rattle at the door made her jump. 

A man was standing at the entrance. He was blond, tall but a little hunched. He eyed Eleanor with a frown, but it was soon masked by a sneer. 

"Morning, miss," he said and shared a sardonic huff, "You don't look injured," 

"No," Eleanor said, "I'm Eleanor Shery, I'm part of the new group, and... you are...," 

 He didn't answer right away. Eleanor blinked, waiting for him to answer. Denise fretted in place, and the young woman felt herself growing a tiny bit irritated. 

"And, you are?" 

"Pete Anderson, the doctor," he said, as if he hadn't lagged on her before. 

"W-wait, Anderson? Are you related to... Jessie Anderson, by any chance?"

"How do you know my wife?" he said with an authoritative tone. Eleanor blinked, confused. 

"She came by our house. Said hi, offered a haircut to some of us," she said with a frown. "She was actually very sweet. Cutting hair in this place is... not a sin, is it?" 

She joked about it, and waited. After a couple of seconds he shook his head and huffed a cackle. Yes, a cackle, but it was completely devoid of mirth. 

The contempt, the barely contained anger. Eleanor felt the hairs of her neck stand on end, and the sense of deja vu possessed her with force. 

"I came because I'm good with simple medical procedures. I wanted to learn more, and a pair of hands can turn out handy-" 

He laughed for good. 

"You know. I already have one of you, a pair of hands that want to help. It's a handful with Denise. So thank you for the offer," He walked to her, and circled her shoulders with his arm, "But no thank you," 

Eleanor lifted her own hand and slid his arm away from her. She walked to the exit. 

"I'll talk to Dianna, maybe we can figure something out," 

"haven't you heard me? I said NO," he raised his voice, yet, with the same contempt. 

"And I suppose that you are not the King of the Medical bay, are you?" Eleanor shot right back, "Either way, It's not like you can tell me what to do," She waved past him, "Awesome to meet you Denise, See you around," 

She walked out, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. 

As much as it bothered her to find another one of these jerks, she wouldn’t start another thing where she got a bruised arm and a friend to be signaled as some kind of menace. 

Maybe it would be better if she didn't work at the medical bay. 

But how could she leave Denise with that jerk?

Well, it’s not like she looks mistreated… and they must have worked together for a far longer time she’s been here. 

"To the sentinel posts it is," she said with a sigh, and moved forward. 

~*~*~

Eleanor knocked on the door of the Anderson's house. 

After an hour and a half, enough was enough. With a tired sigh and a blooming headache, she waited for Jessie to open the door with a dead-like stare. 

Between the contempt of Jessie's husband, the lascivious stares of Aiden Monroe, and the down-talking of Nicolas; she was just one step away from madness. 

"Ellie, hi," Jessie said with an ample smile, "you came for Carl?" 

"Yup, it's about time we returned-" / "Mom! Mom! I can't find-" 

Amelia blinked. Behind Jessie came rushing a young boy... maybe of eleven or twelve. At the sight of Eleanor, the loud and bombastic attitude evaporated, and he remained almost petrified. 

"Hi, I'm Ellie," she waved, but the kid hid behind his mother's legs. 

"Sam, be polite," she looked up, "please forgive him, he is shy with strangers," 

"It's okay, kids be like that," Eleanor said and played with her fingers, "Could you please call Carl over?" 

"Sure I’ll-” but a shove behind her and a very whiny whisper cut her off, “Honey, give me just a minute,” 

“But mom it’s urgent,” he whispered again between his teeth, and stomped a little. Spoiled, aren’t we. 

Jessie turned to her, “I’m sorry, but could you please come inside and get him? I think I have an emergency," 

“Sure, it’s okay. It looks like a life-or-death situation,” Eleanor commented with a raise of her eyebrows and Jessie gave her a nervous giggle; already being pulled away by Sam. 

“Where do I need to go?” Eleanor asked before the woman disappeared. 

“They are at the end of this hallway, upstairs and the first door to the right!”

And she was gone. 

“Okay,” Eleanor said with a huff and went for the stairs. Soon, the laughs, screams and sound of distant shootings told her they were playing video games. 

Eleanor smiled, almost forgetting the rage she was feeling before, she reached the door. Her hand formed a fist and she moved to knock when she could hear it…

Carl's amused laugh, and the protests of other children. 

Her smile turned into a grin, and her hand hesitated. He was having so much fun, maybe she could leave and stop by later. But if she came back without him, Rick could get worried. 

With a sigh, she knocked twice, and waited until one of them tried to shush the others. 

Eleanor took the chance to open the door and peek her head inside, 

"Elle!" 

Carl exclaimed before she could even say anything. Like that, with his face flushed and that ample smile, he looked like the day she met everybody at Atlanta. 

It didn’t last long. While Eleanor tried to greet the other kids inside, Carl understood why she was there, and his face fell.

"How long has it been?" 

"Not long enough it seems," She said stepping inside, "But alas, we need to return," 

There was a chorus of whines. Two boys and a girl. Some of them were sitting on the bed, and some were sprawled on the floor. Eleanor gave a fast gaze at the television, they were playing Counter Strike. 

And on versus mode. 

"Who's winning so far?" She said with an impish smile, fully entering the room. 

"Carl is," She heard to her left, a boy just around Carl's height said. "He outscored all of us," 

"It seems you already had your moment of triumph though guy, at this point you are just goading,” she commented and the same kid laughed, shoving Carl on the shoulder. He mock fought it, and Eleanor cleared her throat, “Carl, your father said an hour... and it's been an hour and a half," 

"Okay," he said with a sigh, "Mike, you wanna take over," 

"Yeah!" The boy exclaimed, jumping over to his vacant seat once he walked to Eleanor. 

"Will you come back tomorrow?" Asked the other boy, Eleanor supposed this was Ron "we're going to hang out at Mike's," 

"Sure," he said with a nod. 

Eleanor looked around. Until that moment, there was someone who hadn’t commented, and who hadn’t answered her greeting. Her eyes landed on said person, a teenage girl that didn’t take her gaze out of Carl and her. She opened the door, but before Carl could walk out, he turned around and waved a meek “bye Enid '', and walked out in a hurry. Eleanor didn’t comment, and when they reached the end of the stairs, they encountered Jessie and Sam once again. 

"Thank you for everything,"

“On the contrary, Carl is welcome to come anytime he wants to play,” 

"¡bye Sam!" Eleanor said behind the woman, but the kid still glared at her from the shadows, so they walked out and made their way uphill in silence.

"It seems you made a lot of new friends," Eleanor began with a smile, "what did you do?" 

"We talked at first," Carl said with a relaxed smile, "you know the guy with the jacket and the nose that looks like Patrick's.... he's Ron. At first he seemed a little bossy but it got better. Mike's cool, he was the first one that I outscored. Then, the girl... her name is Enid," 

"She is a little standoffish," Eleanor joked. 

“A little?” Carl said with his brows high, he huffed a smile, “Believe it or not, she was the last one I outscored. She’s good at tactics,” 

“Why shouldn’t I believe it? I told you before, girls are though,” 

“Yeah sure,” He said with an eye roll

“She lives here with her parents?” 

“...,” Carl blinked, and then shook his head, “I…, I don’t think she has parents Elle,” 

They stopped, and Eleanor wide eyed. To her silence, Carl decided to continue. “I might be wrong but it’s… I have a feeling that she’s not from this place. That she came from the outside like us,” He shrugged, “She doesn’t talk much, And I bet if I ask her she’ll chew me out,”

Eleanor smiled, knowing that despite everything that has happened, and even if he sometimes came out rough to others…. he worried for those in trouble… and he worried a lot. 

"Maybe with time, she'll open up to you," 

He struggled, but had a smile on his face. “I might have complained about this deal before but, being with kids… it’s not so bad,”  

“That gives me peace of mind,” she commented, and kept walking. 

"How was your day?" 

She took a deep breath, and thinned her lips. 

"Well......," she cringed, "yours was better," 

"... so I'm supposed to tell you in detail about my day, but I can't  know yours?" 

The harshness of his voice made her cringe. Ah, she pissed him off. She shrugged, "I had a bad day. I usually don't talk about bad days," 

"Then what's the point of telling me everything that doesn’t account for things that bother you? How am I of help when you push me out anyways?" he said, still with that annoyed tone.

"You are really more mature than others your age," 

"Don't change the subject. You have one last chance before I lose my patience," 

"Ho! So you can lose your patience when it's  about this!" She half mocked, "well... I went to the medical Bay, met a girl named Denise. Then Met Jessie's  husband, who... might be a big jerk," 

"Why was Jessie's husband the-" Carl did a double take, "Wait, what? She's married AND hitting on my dad?" 

"Wouldn't blame her for it. Her husband is a douche. I told him I wanted to work at the bay and he pretty much told me he already had his hands full with Denise," 

Carl lifted his eyebrows. 

"And you took it?" 

"What was I supposed to do? He practically chased me out! And I think he's a licensed doctor so.... I have the short end of the stick for this battle," she gave out a mirthless laugh, "ohhohoho, but that's  not all!" 

"Surprise me," 

"I met Aiden, the youngest of Dianna's sons at the sentinel posts." She took a deep breath, "he might be a jerk too," 

"Why was he there?" 

"He's in charge of people who kill walkers. Make runs, look at the gates... and stuff. He was with Nicolas, the guy that let us in... and when I offered to participate on the rounds they asked me if I knew how to handle a gun," 

She shared a murderous glare when barely contained laughter erupted beside her. 

"Yeah! Laugh it away, you little man! You were not treated as a goddamned Goldilocks," 

The laughter couldn't be contained any more. He threw his head in the air and laughed to his heart's content. Eleanor rolled her eyes. 

"The bitch, he talked down on me like I was some six-year-old, then told me that if I.passed a test first I could carry around his rifle," she slapped her hands, "Aarrgh! Even thinking about it now wants to mess up is little jocky teeth out of his jocky face,” 

He kept giggling, and wipped a tear away.

"Satisfied?" 

"This....," he wheezed, "this makes no sense. You usually charm your way around people.... what happened!" 

"You know what happened? Ignorance is what happened,” she needed her temples in a circle motion, “Because these people truly believe that things out there are hunky dory, At first I couldn’t believe it, but it’s ridiculous!” she cackled a mirthless laugh, “And on top of that, they keep behaving like your average suburb snob that thinks they are right and that problems get to be swept under the rug for everybody’s convenience,” she nodded, her hands on her hips and her steps no longer going in a straight like; she started walking in circles, “But you know what?” 

“What,” 

“This ain’t gonna work on me, Nuh-uh! Not me! I will insist and keep pushing and keep meddling until their perky noses fall off their faces," She shook her head, "I am Eleanor Shery, and a Shery does not conform for shit! No!”

She kept going round and round, she was starting to get dizzy. However, the lack of an answer is what really made her stop. She looked at Carl, the teenager limited himself to study her movements, and a smile crept to his lips.  

“What’s that smile supposed to mean?” 

"Just thinking,” he shrugged, “That this is the real you… the you before the outbreak,” 

She blinked; once, twice. Her anger left her in a cusp of breath, and she shook her head. To that response, the young man lifted his eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never asked yourself this before,” 

“...,” she frowned, and that knowing smile turned into a grin. 

“When I met you, you would do just anything to form part of a group, but as well… there was always something that pulled you to be different, to even be an outsider. Just like when you confronted Ed Peletier, or when you stood up for Michonne. You don’t conform or yield to anyone, even when you want to… and that’s essentially you,” 

Her black stare was promptly replaced by a healthy blush, and her eyes wavered, trying to find a way to escape. 

 “You make it sound as if that was good-”

 "It's perfect," 

She jumped, and wiped her head back to him. Carl had started walking when she stopped moving, and now he was just centimetres away. Naturally, Eleanor’s brown eyes landed on his collarbone, and she blushed again. 

“You are not the only one that had to force themselves to change to survive, but that’s not a bad thing… that’s why we survive,” he whispered, and his warm breath caressed her forehead until his lips did instead. “But now… now we are safe, you can be yourself,” 

She sniffed, and felt him smiling. 

“And you….,” she began, but stopped midway. 

“And me,” he said right back, “You know better than anyone how I’m really like, when I feel safe,” 

She wide eyed. Almost involuntarily, the image popped up in her head. 

Carl, a jolly kid with a fierce spirit. A straightforward little devil;  that liked to laugh, that loved to tease. One generous child that was often concerned for her well being, that talked first and wanted to lead; one that loved to cuddle for comfort, and whose smile always brightened her day.  

She sniffed again, and her arms finally came to wrap around him. 

“You are gonna make me cry,” she said with a cracked voice. A familiar pair of arms hugged and she hid her head under his chin. 

"I'll make you stop if you promise me something," 

"*sniff* What is it?" 

He lifted her chin, and she posed no resistance until their eyes finally met. They were so close, their noses were touching; instinctively, Eleanor closed her eyes. 

"Don't show this side of you to anyone else.... but me," he whispered, "cry with me, make all the tantrums you want with me, be spoiled with me," 

She smiled. 

"Okay, I promise," she half opened her eyes, "I assume it will be the same for you," 

"That goes without saying," 

She giggled again, and she felt his lips brushing against hers as an invitation. 

A familiar clear of throat had them freezing in place. 

They turned. A very surprised Michonne stood with her arms folded. Eleanor fretted, but Carl only rolled his eyes and hugged her closer. 

"You didn't see wrong," 

"I know I didn't see wrong. But I thought your father set some rules," 

Eleanor blushed. Rick has already told everyone about them? She swallowed some saliva  and smiled. 

"We aren't breaking any of them, if you want to know," she shared a nervous smile. 

There was an anxiety inducing pause before the woman smirked and lifted her shoulders. 

"That's a shame though," 

W...what? 

Eleanor stood straight and glared at Carl who only cackled. Michonne walked away saying they were going to get some food, and that Rick was waiting for them. 

"Your father is a gossip. Couldn't he wait until we were back to talk to everyone?" 

"I think nobody has told her anything," Carl whispered right back. "We better get moving, if you didn't manage to get a job on your own, might as well see what Dianna prepared for you,"

Eleanor scowled, and moved to untangle herself from him. But only met resistance. 

"If we keep walking like this we'll fall down," 

"Aren’t you forgetting something?" 

She looked up, and laughed at the pout that Carl was giving her before leaning in for a kiss. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eleanor rose from the floor she was sleeping in with a painful stretch. She wasn't sure what it was...  the comfort of the pillow on her head, or the fluffy cover she used... suddenly the floor seemed too hard to sleep on. 

Yes, they had slept in the living room, and huddled together over the soft carpet; sharing covers and taking turns to take watch. Eleanor couldn't blame them, this was a new place, and that undermined your sense of security. Either way, she hoped that insecurity would leave soon, and so they could all see if they needed to share a room, or could have a room.of their own. 

She stretched again, and looked around the group of people. 

Carl's arm was stretching over Michonne, as if to reach her hair. Eleanor smiled and moved her cover to him before she stood. 

Walking to the kitchen, she found Sasha and Tyreese. 

"Morning," she greeted the siblings, and took a chip out of Tyresse's snack bag, "you are going to the sentinel post too?" 

"Yeah...," the man said while rubbing his face, "we are to pass some test before we can join the weapons," 

"Ugh, just.... let me forget about it," Sasha complained. "Stupid. It is.... stupid, who do these people take us for?" 

Eleanor lifted her shoulders.

"You are not listing yourself for the runs," she continued.

"The post as Biology teacher has my name written on it. I will share my time with both things," 

"Right, there was something like that on the list," Tyreese acknowledged, "and you are good with kids," 

Sasha snickered  and Eleanor was again left to wonder if they already knew or if Michonne told them. 

"Oh God....," 

They all turned. With dragging steps and a heavy bed hair, Glenn walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

"Watching post?" 

"Runs... and weapon training," he complained, and half blinked at Eleanor, "shouldn't that be your job?" 

She grinned, "apparently, I don't look the type to know," she looked up, "how did he say it.... 'just take it slow doll, maybe in a couple of days I could let you hold my rifle'," 

Sasha gasped and laughed. "He did not say that," 

"Ugh, just because he's Dianna's son I didn't kick him in the nuts," 

"Maybe that's why he gets away with everything," Glenn said with an annoyed sigh. "Either way, we all are passing his test at this ungodly hour in the morning. Let's make him eat his words,"

"Well said," 

They turned again. Tara entered the kitchen, rubbing her eyes in discomfort. "It's a crime to wake up this early when we something so comfortable to sleep in," 

Eleanor grinned. They washed their faces and took a small  bite of food before going outside. 

Eleanor breathed in the chilly air as her body shivered in place. Winter was just around the corner, and the sky... painted in the faint blue of dawn, looked even darker than it really was. They all walked in silence, sometimes a breath formed mist in the air, sometimes a shiver distracted them. They walked down the hill to reach the front gate, but they found it empty.

"Where the fuck are they?" Sasha said, growing more and more annoyed. 

"Don't tell me they are still sleeping," Tara said with a defeated face. 

"Probably. Stay here, I'll go to Dianna's house," Eleanor said. 

"I'll go with you," Tyresse offered and together, they made  the 5 minute walk up the hill. 

"This is not a good start," 

"You can say that again," Eleanor said, blowing hot air in between her hands. "If it wasn't for the fact these people seem so useless. I would get heavy Woodbury vibes," 

"It's been a while," Tyresse said with a little smile, "but this is still more quiet than Woodbury. By the time we arrived there, the place was in chaos," 

"Oh," Eleanor said with a nod. "Then, what bothers you?" 

"How long are we going to put up with their attitude.... until a fight breaks off? Who will be given right then?..... and what would that mean for us?" 

He was not wrong. 

"Dianna said she wanted capable people. To teach their own, some eggs have to be cracked along the way," Eleanor said convinced. 

"And that's why I'm accompanying you. I don't think she knows what's she's asking for," 

They reached the entrance. The house was in complete silence, and the lights were off. Tyreese and Eleanor looked at each other before they knocked on the door. It took then a while to hear some small curses, something that fell over, and the lights of the living room swirling on. 

A young man Eleanor didn't recognize appeared at the door. He was in pajamas. 

"You must be Spencer," 

He blinked at the black man and the young woman, and rubbed his eyes. 

"Any reason why you'd be telling me that in the middle of the night?" 

Eleanor took a deep breath. 

"Your brother, Aiden, told us to get up at this hour to take a test so that we could become part of the defensive team... as he calls it,"

The guy smirked, snorted and then laughed sardonically. 

"And you believed him?"

"Listen kid," Tyreese said with a tone Ellie knew very well, "this isn't a joke. Tell your brother to get out here and carry that bloody test. Or we'll wake your mother for her to tell us what to do instead," 

His smile washed away, and he passed from leaning against the door, to crossing his arms in an intimidating manner. 

"Is that a menace?" 

Before he could register it, Eleanor pressed on the bell button as if she wanted to break it. 

"Hey!" He yanked her hand away, "what do you think you are doing-!" 

"-You better stop that sentence there man," Tyreese took his hand and by force, he made Spencer let go of Eleanor. Another set of steps could be heard... and the whole Monroe family walked down the stairs. 

Dianna, clad in a sleeping robe, frowned at Tyreese and Eleanor. 

"W-what... what's happening?" An older man, presumably her husband, asked behind her. 

Eleanor smiled, "Sorry to wake you at this hour but... we are looking for your son," 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Let me see if I got this right," Rick rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "You, and the others," he glared at the people in question, "went to the Monroe's house in the middle of the night because... A.... Adrian-" 

"Aiden, and it was actually five in the morning," provided Eleanor. 

"Aiden told you there was a test?" 

"A test to prove ourselves we can handle walkers," Glenn added at his turn. 

"And he didn't show up," 

"He didn't even remember he asked us to come?" Sasha said outraged, "and he even had the gall to deny he called for us in front of his mother! We would have waited like fucking idiots in the middle of the cold--!" 

Rick raised his hand in a sign of peace and nodded. 

"Okay. And what did Dianna say about that," 

Nobody talked. Michonne scoffed at that. She knew that it was all bullshit the moment Glenn mentioned it to her... that they could still make a run in this place and that it would be a good opportunity to contribute with something they really knew how to do.

Somehow... she wasn't sure if she wanted to make more runs. In another moment of her life, she would have said in a heartbeat but now... 

"She apologized, told us to go to sleep;" Eleanor shrugged her shoulders, "And so we did. She might come to talk to you around now," 

Rick sighed again. 

"You can't be on his side," Sasha said again, annoyed, especially at the lack of reaction from Rick. 

"Did I even say anything?" he said, his eyebrows high and his gaze tired. 

"Will you say something when she comes?" Glenn insisted right after. Rick raised his hands again. 

"It will be hard, he is her son," 

"That is the kind of mentality that put us here in the first place," Eleanor intervened. As he often did now, Rick turned his glare to her, "I don't want to cause more conflict. But Aiden's attitude is something that will eventually get us killed... and you know it," 

Oh yeah, they knew it. Rick clenched his jaw, he couldn't say anything to that. And, as if invoked, there was a knock on the door. 

"I'll get it," Carl offered, and moved to the door. 

There was Diana Monroe... alone. 

Her eyes sought Rick immediately, and she smiled, entering the house. The awkward silence strained for a moment, before she put her hands together and looked around her. 

"I am here to apologize in the name of Aiden," she took a deep breath, "To be frank, he didn't think you would come, and I didn't think he would play a prank on you like that. It got out of hand really fast," 

Nobody said anything for a moment, until Eleanor stepped forward. 

"We take anything walker related very seriously. In our group we also assess who is ready to make runs and who isn't. We assumed you did the same," Eleanor explained, "we accept your apology; but we are also firm on our methods. Walkers are not things to be joked about... or played with,"

"Yes! we understand, we fully understand!" Diana said, apparently more animated. "Still, we want to make it up to you. This was going to be organized in another couple of days but...," 

What was she talking about? Michonne frowned, and her confused look landed on the skeptical one of Carl. The teenager had his arms folded, as if he expected to hear something even more unbelievable. 

"We wanted to make a small welcome party for you. There are not many things that we can spare; but I bet it's been a while since you heard music, or relaxed for a night of fun," she looked around, "Do you think tonight is good?" 

Tonight? Michonne looked around again. Many heads looked confused, if not mistrustful. The question was directed to Eleanor, but it soon moved to Rick. It was evident the woman was not going to take a no for an answer, even if she "invited" them to assist. Therefore, Rick nodded, and said they would go. With that, Dianna thanked, and walked out of the house. 

Chapter Text

"Looking good," 

Michonne looked up and grinned at the teenager. He was using a white undershirt, and an open black shirt with blue jeans, He even fixed his hair in a half ponytail. That way, he looked older. 

"Thank you. Not too shabby yourself," Michonne, answered. Even if she said this as if it was not that big of a deal, finding something to wear had been a literal torture. 

She had never realized how much she had forgotten about clothes. Indeed, she had barely changed clothes since she escaped the camp she was in. She didn't purposely looked out of clothes once she was a the prison. Now, fashion sense and beauty had become an alien thing to her... her, who was so critical about a decent dressing style. 

Still, she managed to find a pair of tight black pants and a V neck bronze shirt. She liked the ensemble, but almost felt that she could do nothing with her tresses. Sasha aided her in cleaning them up and tying them as a high half ponytail. She forgone any makeup, even if there was available. 

Oh... how things had changed since the outbreak. 

Beside them, was Rick Grimes. Michonne had felt some eyes on herself for a moment, but she thought it was from someone else. He had a jacket, but under it was a shirt that didn't look to bad of him. She could also say the same about that shaved face that she hasn't seen in forever... 

Maybe never. 

It gave the man a gentle look that she still had a hard time associating with the former sheriff. 

She was also ready to admit it made him look younger. 

"Where are the others?" 

"Still inside," Rick said with a gruff, "They'll catch up to us, lets go," he said, walking down the street. 

"Can't we wait for-?" 

"No," 

True to his age, the teenager stood still another moment and looked at the door. Then, as if he already knew his father was turning around to check, he started walking. 

Michonne let out a silent sigh. Would she have had Andre on such a tight leash were he Carl's age?

Maybe if his current girlfriend was ten years his senior. 

She couldn't deny that despite the pain, she thought of her son often... it was something she caught herself doing now, but it was not filled with more rage or pain; only with regret and wishful thinking. Her family right now was a little more numerous, and by proxy, she thought of Carl as much as she thought of Andre.

Sometimes, she compared Carl to her son; and wondered if he would have been the same way. 

She also often found herself wishing he wouldn't have been. Carl was a handful on his own. Stubborn, headstrong, ambitious and even obsessive; Carl was someone that, low-key, always got what he wanted... one way or another. 

So it was amusing to see him comply so readily, only because there were no other options for him to choose from. 

Still, she thought Rick was being too paranoid about this. It is not to say that he did wrong at testing them and keeping them separated; but even she knew it was just a futile attempt that was only there to stall for time. From the moment she met their odd group, she was certain that Eleanor and Carl could not be separated. She still remembered that little kid with a gun, watching every step she took like a shadow; blue eyes that looked gelid at her direction, but that melted once they focused on Eleanor's smile.

And smiles Eleanor had plenty. She could be kind or cunning, always looking inoffensive and rather weak until it was too late. She liked to get other people's guards down, it had worked on herself... But she had never smiled so tenderly, she had never looked so enraptured at anyone as she did to Carl. Was it far fetched that they would end up together? Well, maybe it was surprising that it evolved from zero to one hundred in so little time. 

And that's what truly worried Michonne. She loved Carl like Andre, and she knew him well. His stubborn, headstrong, ambitious and obsessive attitude could play against him and that could make him get hurt. She was worried; because the more Rick tried to keep him on a tight leash, the more Carl would struggle to slip away, until he moved Eleanor to comply and do something that could destroy their chances together. 

You didn't see wrong. 

"Geez, don't look so excited,"

She laughed at the annoyed expression reside her. "Shouldn't that be my line? It's not as if she is not going to the party," 

He crossed his arms and looked away. 

"Nervous?" 

"...maybe," he admitted, and turned once again to her, "isn't this invitation a bit  suspicious? Was it too hard to take Aiden to the house and make him say sorry to Elle and the others? That means he is not willing to apologize, and this party is just a cover up of that fact, a way to content us and see for good which is the one to blame here. If Aiden really did something wrong or if we just.... are not that civilized anymore," 

Michonne swallowed down a sigh. He was not wrong. 

"Whatever it is, we just arrived, and we'll take the peace offering," Rick said from up front, "weren't you the one that wanted to do whatever it took to stay?" 

"I never said anything about whatever it took," Carl said under his breath.

Michonne smirked, and the conversation died down until they reached an illuminated house that had both a lot of people inside and outside. Slowly Michonne recognized the entrance. This was indeed Dianna's house,  and the party was well underway. 

For a moment, Michonne forgot all that Carl had said, and closed her eyes. It was faint, but she could hear the music inside the house.

Music, and laughter. Two things that she thought she would never hear again. A part of Michonne wished for this to be real, wished for this to be just as it looked like: no hidden intentions, no mistrust, no suspicion. Yet I was not like that, and she soon returned to the place she felt more comfortable. 

They entered. 

"Welcome, welcome," an old man said. Michonne didn't recognize him, but assumed it was Dianna's husband. Soon the woman appeared with an ample smile, looping an arm around the man's waist, and meeting him loop another around her shoulders. 

Her smile soon turned to a frown, "but, where are the others?"

"On their way," Rick said with a raise of the eyebrows. Carl scoffed and looked away. 

"As you say," Dianna smiled, and patted the chest of her husband, "please, come in, I would like to present you to all the community," 

Michonne took a deep breath, and they all walked inside a large living room that was now accommodating 20 to 25 people. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And, what about Daryl?" 

"He's said no. And once he says no, it's  no. You know him," 

Eleanor shook her head while massaging her temple. At the beginning of that evening, she thought she could be able to convince, dress, and prepare everyone that didn't want to go to Dianna's party. Now, half an hour late to it, she felt she had failed. 

But not completely. Glenn stood before her well dressed and ready, he tried to convince Daryl on his own before going out with Maggie; but was for naught. Maggie and Beth looked stunning. The hardest part had been Sasha and Tyreese. Since his sister was in no mood for parties, and he wanted to be supportive; nevertheless once the others joined her... they relented. In the middle were Abraham and Rosita, a couple of standoffs that were going... but were unwilling nonetheless. They almost passed as a couple of teenagers that didn't want to visit grandma. 

Because of this mess, she missed her chance to go with Carl to the party. 

"Okay, then. We are set," she clapped and opened the door, waving her hand to the people inside, "come on, we are late," 

"Tell me again why are we doing this," Sasha hissed, the blue lentil blouse she had not expressing her emotions. 

" Because this is a peace offering that we better take," Eleanor said and sighed, "there must be some people we can warm up to, expand our contacts, if we keep on depending on Dianna and Aaron to move around this place... we'll also be at their mercy once things go south," 

"Things are already south," pointed Glenn. 

"Fine. Then further south," she sighed, "come one, even if it's a little awkward, don't you want to hear music again, drink, have a good time? We've still got each other," 

"You assume I went to a lot of those back at Atlanta," 

More than one head turned to Glenn. The snicker came from his wife, he glared at her and crossed his arms. 

"Were you old enough to drink then?" 

"I was old enough!" He protested, and this time, Abraham broke out in laughter.

Eleanor let out the air she was holding ,and urged everyone outside, one by one, they exited the large house and waited at the street. Just as she grabbed her white cardigan from the nearest sofa, a shadow caught her eye, and she gave it a little smile. 

"You sure you want to be alone here?" 

"Bring me a beer if there's any," he ruffed back, and dragged his feet to the living room. "I have a couch and I have a TV. What else do I need," 

She shook her head, and walked outside. The chilly air of late autumn ruffled her cardigan, and her skirt danced in the wind, freezing her legs and making her shiver. 

"Want to change back in some jeans?" Tyreese asked beside her. With a high chin, Eleanor willed the cold away. 

"I'm good. Let's go already," 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And Michonne, what did you do  before the outbreak?" 

The woman looked away. A poor attempt at not rolling her eyes. To the lack of response, a white woman with a little overbite and black hair shared a nervous laugh and took another sip to her cup of soda. 

"I worked at..." she stopped, the word almost leaving her memory "... a gallery," 

Michonne hoped that was enough. However the woman's eyes lit up. 

"Oh! You were an artist! Because-" 

"No, I wasn't. Just the manager," 

The woman said 'ohh' with a strained smile. Michonne was almost satisfied with the let down, and let out a sigh of relief when the woman excused herself and walked away. 

Was she the only one feeling like this? She looked around... and spotter Rick talking with a blonde woman she thought she'd seen at the house once. She rolled her eyes and looked somewhere else and took her no time to spot Carl between a group of three teenagers.

For someone who was nervous and teenage adverse... he was getting along quite well with the rest of the kids in this place. 

Then the ring bell sounded twice. 

"Ah! Finally the others arrive!" Dianna said with a cackle. Michonne excused herself and walked to follow Dianna closely. She turned to reach the hallway just as the woman opened the door and rushed in a group of people. 

*hey!* 

She turned her eyes to the right. Carl was bring shoved away by his father as Eleanor and the others greeted Dianna and walked inside. 

Michonne couldn't help but smile at the sight of the young woman. She was using a knee length,  dark pink dress with short sleeves. She must've been freezing, she was certain, since Eleanor was still hugging her white cardigan against her body. 

Behind her were the others. The black woman looked at them with a sense of awe and disbelieve. It was as if she was looking at them all for the first time. It came with a little heartbreak, because this was a side she didn't know of the others; a side that they didn't know of her. 

Eleanor looked so cute, and Maggie and Beth. Glenn looked so standoffish that she had no other choice but to laugh. 

"So you are having fun. That's a good sign," the young woman said with almost an exasperated tone. Michonne frowned at her in confusion. 

"What, shouldn't I be?" 

"Why don't you guess why we were late? It's a a miracle so many came as it is," she whispered , "Daryl stayed, not even beer could bring him here," 

"I think that's  for the best. I don't picture Daryl in a party like this," she said. Eleanor blinked and looked around then, they both started giggling. 

"You look nice," she said, but her gaze soon deviated from her and moved around the room. 

"Thank you?" She said, and blocked Eleanor's view, "looking for someone?" 

"Uh... I," she hesitated, and a rosy taint barely covered her cheeks. Michonne snickered and right when she was about to speak, Dianna came by with an ample smile. 

"Eleanor! I need you to see somebody, I hope I'm bot interrupting something," the woman said looping her arm around the one of the young woman, almost in an amicably way. 

Michonne could see the girl tense up, and knew that this person she 'needed to see' was none other than Aiden. 

"It's alright," Michonne managed to say before the Eleanor was dragged away. She let out a sigh, really.... she was thankful she was not Ellie right now. Things were strained as they were, to be forced to be this... 

Civilized. 

She turned to move, ad that's when she realized Carl was only feet away. 

Michonne shouldn't find this funny at all, but they both were just too adorable. The teenager crossed his arms, he was opening glaring at the empty space next to her, but his eyes showed a type of dejection more akin to a child. If she were to choose a word to describe it, it would be...

Wronged. That face would never make it to a postcard, that was for sure. 

"She went to greet Aiden," the black woman said once she was close enough. Carl sighed and ruffled his hair. 

"Ans what makes you think I want to know? It's  not like I can follow them anyway," 

"You can't?" 

His blue eyes turned to her. Michonne raised her eyebrows, both surprised and disappointed. Carl not defying his father? The kid looked away, it almost looked like a spy movie. 

"You know what I mean, he'll catch up onto what I'm doing," 

"That is if he catches you,"

Carl looked at them a second time. Slowly a smirk crossed his lips. 

"Are you offering?"

"Not for too long, that is certain," Michonne whispered, "so you better decide now that you have the chance," 

He opened his eyes wide, and made a mad walk around her and past to the other room. Michonne giggled, and looked around trying to find Rick. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I think we started with the wrong foot, but... you have more things in common than you can imagine," 

Eleanor blinked once, twice; and wondered if she was five again. She hadn't been forced to apologize and "make peace" with someone else by a parent since she was in kindergarten... specially considering her mother would have never allowed it. 

All that being said, Aiden was waiting beside Diana as if he had been unjustly wronged and therefore, vindicated. Eleanor forced out a conciliatory smile, solely directed to Diana, and waited. 

She needed the woman to leave to finally say what she was meant to say. 

"Well, I better leave the youngsters to have fun together," she said with a clap and excused herself. 

Youngsters. It was a word she haven't heard over a decade.

"So...," 

She turned, it was Aiden who started talking. Eleanor moved to give him a polite smile, but at the sight of his expression, she stopped. Her eyes grew wide, even for a millisecond, when her brain made the connection to a moment that had long ago passed. That smug smile, the one that told her she was at his mercy, that there was nothing that she could do against them, because the military were on their side and they were the maximum authority. She stopped that train of thought immediately. this wasn't the Florida camp. Where was she again?

She grit her teeth, and couldn't help the enraged and predatory gaze that filled her eyes. It was evident, for Aiden and Nicholas soon looked at each other confused... one might even dare to say intimidated. Eleanor said nothing, her eyes truly lost somewhere else, until one of them cleared his throat. Eleanor returned to reality with a jump, the deafening silence she felt was now filled with the soft music playing, and she frowned. 

"Are you okay there?" Aiden asked and Nicholas restrained a snicker. 

Realizing what she had allowed to transpire, she took a deep breath and crossed her arms. 

"Yeah... well, I'll be better once I get my apology,"

"Your... apology?" Aiden said in disbelieve. "You sure you haven't got that backwards?"

This time for sure, Nicholas cackled. Oh they were NOT for real right now, Eleanor thought. She nodded, not sure if she was impressed... or saw this coming from a mile away. Either way, the merry disposition she had when exciting the house was far gone, and she was ready to go down in flames if only she could set this bastard straight.

"Do you have any idea why we are here Aiden?" she began "This is supposed to be our welcome party, but thanks to you, we don't feel very welcome... And I don't think I'm the only one with that idea, since your mother came in your place to apologize for your lack of insight, your immaturity, and your stupid behavior,"

"Whoah... Whoah," he rose his hands, but Eleanor cut him off. 

"-She excused you saying you were busy; but now I see you are just a petty little boy. She even begged us to come, I was hoping you could be man enough as she was," she huffed with a sardonic smirk. She might be exaggerating a little... but she was willing so she could get her point across.

"That's enough," Aiden was no longer smiling. His anger lasted nothing, however, and he sported that condescending smirk that had enraged her in the first place. "I know what you want. And you won't get it from me," 

"This is insane... Can't you take a joke?" The one who defended him, not surprisingly Nicolas. 

"No, I can't take a joke. Because for Aiden, waking up at dawn seems to be an isolated event, a prank on people who are used to 'sleep tight' on a warm bed every night. We've been sleeping on the road with scarce hours for fear of walkers for over a couple of months. So no, Nicolas, it's not a joke for me to wake up food and sleep deprived people only because some brat decided it was funny. It shows a clear lack of empathy and common sense that out o here gets you killed -and get that stupid grin out of your face," She said to Aiden, who refused to obey. She then snapped back at Nicholas, "And that also brings me to you, Nicolas. Do you believe for a second of your life that a woman has ever managed to survive out there without knowing how to use a rifle?"

She huffed again "No, it shouldn't surprise me. Dianna said you knew nothing of the exterior and she was right. We are here to share what we know, and we aren't your lackeys, our your fucking pupils to be treated with disrespect. So until the day you pull your head out of your ass you will owe me an apology, and I hope that day is not too far away. Because for us, you are now the little jerk who's mom had to apologize for," 

"You done?"

"Yeah.. I'm done;" she paused, and smirked, "As it is then, we will meet you tomorrow morning at 8:30 so you can brief us with how you've been managing fences and runs up until now; and no more whining... mamma's boy,"

Oh she did that on purpose, and it seemed she had finally pressed a button, because Aiden's white face soon turned to a rosy taint, his placid expression was gone, and he was moving to raise his finger and most probably insult her. 

But a new face arrived, and cut him off. 

"Having fun, Miss congeniality?" 

Eleanor turned, beside the corner they were in stood Carl, leaning against the door. Eleanor's eyes trailed on the half ponytail. 

"Who the fuck are you, now?" Asked Nicolas, exasperated. 

"...," Carl's expression was neutral, and he extended his hand, "We haven't met before. I'm Carl Grimes, Rick's son,"

Nicolas refused the hand shake, and Carl didn't think it twice before moving to the next person. Aiden, unlike his friend, met the offered hand back with a fake smile and the same superiority.

"I'm Aiden Monroe," 

"Oh, so you are the 'Aiden'..." Carl grinned with a predatory smile. "We've heard about your prank, you pissed off many of ours," he squeezed the hand he was holding, Eleanor noticed, "I don't know about you, but we've been sleep deprived for weeks; so don't try it again man. Maybe next time a little apology won't appease us," 

Aiden yanked his hand away, ad Carl stood straight; he then looped an arm around her shoulders.  "This conversation looks pretty much dead. You don't mind if I take her away, do you?"

He didn't stop to hear the answer, and both started walking.

"What... was that?" She asked, brows high and her eyes large. 

"Maybe what you should have said instead," Carl commented. 

She frowned, "how long have you been there?" 

"Almost since the beginning," he commented her and as she was covering her face in shame, he smirked, "I thought you wanted to be friendly... what happened?" 

Her hands fell down, but she said nothing. Carl wanted to tease her again but... once he saw her expression, he stopped.

"Wanna go outside?" 

She nodded, and let herself be guided back at the entrance. Once the door opened, the cold wind reached her face, and she let out a sigh of relief. They sat on the stairs, sure no one else was arriving, and looked at the deep dark that covered the streets.   

"..."

"..."

"... you wanna talk about it?"

Did she? The lump in her throat that always appeared when she thought of her mother was there... chocking the air our of her, blinding her sight. She knew if she talked, tears would come; but that was part of letting go... and many other times she was brought to this moment, she realized she was afraid of letting go. She was also afraid of saying it out loud, or invoking that demon and letting it destroy her life again. 

"You haven't said anything about my look," 

Eleanor turned to him and smiled... almost against her will. Carl was making a weird posse while stroking his nonexistent beard. At that thought she giggled. 

"You look good," 

"I was aiming for older," 

She shook her head, "yeah, you look older too," 

"How much older do I look like?" 

"... eighteenish?" She tempted, Carl made a grimace, nor impressed. She giggled again, and Carl smirked, turning to rest his back against the wood beam. 

"Thanks," 

"It's my  job,"

Yet, he turned to stare at her, a concerned frown that much to her disbelieve made her remember Shane more than she remembered Rick; which was completely insane. She looked at the front again, still unsure if she should proceed. 

"Why did you take so long in the house? I wanted to wait for you, but dad didn't let me," 

"Ugh," she cringed, "it was... the worst, the worst." she motioned with her hands up front. "Suddenly nobody wanted to come. Nobody. And they all acted as if they had never gone to a party in their lives... or they had gone to enough parties to last them for a lifetime, I wasn't sure anymore,"

"I caught a look at Maggie, and Beth... and Rosita, they looked nice," Carl commented with a smile, he had been silently laughing the whole time.

"They were alright. The guys were the vain of my life. It was like dressing up a bunch of children," 

He grinned. "And Daryl?" 

"He stayed watching TV. Now I'm thinking I should have done the same," she let out another sigh, followed by a sniff, "remind me to bring a beer for him, he asked me that," 

She sniffed again, and Carl said nothing. She looked into the dark and empty space in front of her; a clean street that lead her to the rest of the houses, it was barely visible. Before she could come around to explain whatever happened, she needed to ask herself: Why did she act like that? Why did she react like that... when feigning compliance was something she had done before, and so many times too. What was different this time around? 

Again, the lump formed, followed by a rush on blood that made her heart beat quicker. The bile that reached her tongue returned and she had the imperious need to touch her hip and find her pair of blades there. 

"You okay?" Carl asked, reading her sudden change. She took a deep breath, and looked at him, before she moved to grasp his hand in hers, he let her. 

"I told you why I lost my mother before," she began with a croak, "but I never told you how it happened," 

He said nothing, his serious yet patient expression waiting for her to continue.  

"I told you that they wanted me to hunt and kill walkers, that I refused, that my mother complained to the military and they came out on my defense. For a while, nothing else was said, until it happened. There was a large herd coming our way and a plan was designed to drive them away. The paramilitary were responsible for the decoy that would distract the walkers away from camp. We were told that they would use animals to guide them away from the camp and the shooters would take them down;"

"they... said...?" Carl asked, dubious. 

"Despite what I said and what the soldiers assured me, I was asked to participate. I reluctantly took the front line. The screams were not too far away, and there was no mistaking the sound that we were hearing. They were not using animals as bait," 

An eerie silence followed, and Eleanor felt Carl gripping her hand a little tighter. She refused to turn to look at him however, and she willed down the lump in her throat while swallowing her saliva.

"There was a way the paramilitary called us full civilians, when they wanted to be despective.... 'bait meat', they used to say. I should..... I should have known that it was not just a joke. I should have done better and joined that group to know what they were planning... I...," her voice broke, and she gasped some new air; it felt cold in her throat, and her tears were willed away. "I should have... realized sooner, that one of those screams was too familiar to me. If I had realized sooner, maybe I would have freed my mother from that wooden log before a walker managed to bite her," 

It didn't matter if they failed or succeeded; it didn't matter if the camp was here or not, her mother was gone, and she had nothing. She had told herself these words countless times, and countless times she had reached the same dead end: it didn't matter what she could or should have done, because it didn't happen, and her mother was dead. It only served to make her feel guilt, she knew; but what she didn't expect was to realize she was feeling the same guilt and pain she felt so many years ago; it hadn't dulled, it hadn't washed away.

Carl refused to comment, but his presence was reassuring.

"I know Aiden is not like that... or at least, my instinct tells me he hasn't got the balls for it," she huffed with a sardonic smile, "But he way he talked to me, the... ego with which he expected me to abide any and all whims he had... triggered something in me. Before I knew it, I was confronting him as if I was confronting those men again," 

Finally, she turned to look at her friend. She wide-eyed, when she noticed Carl was trying to hold back tears. He let out a long and profound sigh, and looked at the front. With a smile, she moved to pull him into a hug... which he returned with force. 

"Who's comforting who?" 

"Does it matter?" 

She heard a little rumble over her, "No it really doesn't", she felt him turn to kiss her temple, "Sorry about your mom," 

"I know she would have loved to meet you," 

"Really... A guy ten years your junior?" 

She restrained a laugh, "She always told me that I was too mistrustful and I would end up alone. At that point she would have done just what your father is doing right now,"

"Mistrustful?" Carl asked, clearly in disbelieve, "If anything... when I met you, you were over friendly with everyone," 

"Over friendly, over helpful, over sacrificing," She let out a sigh, "I was compensating. I felt that I needed to prove I could be of use and not make mistakes like the ones I made before. At the same time, I thought my only purpose was to sacrifice what I was for someone else's survival; something I didn't do before... and that I believed had cost me a lot of things,"

"... yeah... that explains a lot," 

They half parted, as Ellie moved away from the embrace, but Carl guided her head to rest on his shoulder. She smiled, since he was still too short for this to be a comfortable position, but she also wanted to stay there. 

"What are you going to do?" 

"About what?" 

"About Aiden," she turned to look up, "I know you said you were going to talk about runs tomorrow, but I wonder if it's any good for you to keep involving yourself with him," 

She took a deep breath, "I can't say I'm eager to see him tomorrow... true, but... we live here now; and I worry that we can't handle things in the future," 

"Fair enough," he commented, "but at the first sign of bullshit, you better bail and tell my dad. If anything, we know that he won't put up with guys like that, and in this case a little help would be nice," 

They looked at each other and snickered. Eleanor hugged Carl again, snuggling against him. 

"I'm hungry,"

"Then let's go back inside," Carl suggested, "Either way, you can stick to Michonne for dear life if you don't want to talk to anybody,"

She grinned, and they both for up and walked to the entrance once again. 

To be sincere, Ellie remembered little more about that party. True to form, she stayed with Michonne. Some people approached, but nothing too overbearing. Carl returned to present Noah and Beth to the other teenagers, and she didn't see Aiden the rest of the night. Eleanor sneaked a couple of beers without anyone else noticing and once they arrived back at their house, she found Daryl still fully awake, watching action movies. 

As if the party had been an eye opener, one by one, they started choosing and looking for rooms on the house. Carol moved to the empty house next to theirs and so did Glenn, Maggie, Beth, Noah, Abraham and Rosita. The others stayed with them, and Eleanor let herself flop into the soft bed with a sigh of content. She waited, until the house fell silent and the lights were turned off; and the creak of a secret door opened for Carl to sneak his way beside her. 

Life was peaceful and quiet.... until morning came again. 

Chapter Text

The faint rays of sunlight of early morning appeared slowly, as they colored and transformed the night sky into a soft light blue tint, much like the color of a pair of eyes that were lost in space. It was cold, and Carl tried to bury himself further into the covers without disturbing the figure that still rested beside him. 

How Eleanor could sleep soundly after what she had confided to him last night was beyond him at the moment. 

It was not to say that he hadn't blinked an eye the whole night. He had some sleep, but it was fretful and fragmented, a combination of his own memories and Eleanor's that made hideous scenarios of his mother, of her and even of himself. 

He couldn't imagine what it would have felt like for Elle... or what he would have done in her place. 

Sure, many things were now perfectly explained. He finally understood why Eleanor antagonized Abraham so much; why she defied Shane.... and then his father; why she was sociable and friendly, but still grew uneasy in large crowds. He also understood why she seemed so polarizing, forgiving one time and then ruthless... defiant and yet, always loyal to whatever his father said... wrong or right. 

Also he understood why, as much as she struggled, as much as she fought for independence, she was willing to anything and everything as long as him and Judith were safe. Sacrifice was a word he hated to relate to Eleanor, but it was part of her as clouds belong in the sky. 

He wondered how she was before that happened. Was she actually more like him? What would an Eleanor like that think and do in front of all the things that they have lived? What did that say about his own experience? 

He turned on his back, and he rubbed his face, tired. 

Eleanor's real fear was to be in a situation where she was trapped, and where she had no way or option to protect what she loved. She feared to be left behind as she was left behind before. She wouldn’t admit it, but Carl could hear a little voice that told him it would take far longer for her to really leave behind her suicide attempt.... or the death of her mother.  

What did that mean for him? What was his worst fear? What would stick with him for a long time? 

He already knew. It was the way she jumped to risk herself as long as other people were safe. It was that same sacrificing attitude that has had him on edge ever since he could remember. It was the same fear that crept up his spine now, an imperious need to grab a gun and keep it close, almost an impulse to trust nobody but himself,  to not compromise for anyone but him and what he held dear. It was almost a sense of paranoia, that whispered in his ears and tensed  his nerves like iron rods... urging him to shot first and ask questions later.

And it was also a feeling that would take him more time to let go.

As it was, that feeling had been shaken awake by Aiden, and by how he affected Eleanor... what Carl held dear. He didn't trust Aiden, no matter what Eleanor said, and he wouldn't trust him in the future either. But what was he to do? In this place where the world had stopped moving, and adults  expected him to just forget everything he has lived up to this moment and behave like a child. By himself, he could do nothing.

The beep of his wrist clock made him jump, and his thoughts were interrupted completely. He rushed to turn it off, but the sound had already reached his companion. She groaned, blinking her eyes into focus. 

She frowned, and tried  to hide her face on a pillow. 

"Hmmm, where are we?" 

Carl couldn't  resist a smile, "Alexandria. Where  do you think we are?" 

She blinked again. Her eyes stayed  on him for a minute, and then she looked around her. She groaned  and let her head fall on the pillow again. 

"I thought I had to check the pipes," 

The prison. They never had such comfortable beds there, they had never slept together either; How could she confuse the two?

Maybe her dreams were as fragmented as his. Dreams of pending responsibilities, and a cycle that kept her busy and away from her feelings.

Eleanor extended her hand  then, tapping around  for something "What time is it?" 

He reached out his hand to grab hers, "seven," 

She complained again, scooting  over to hug him. Little a pillow, he let himself be hugged, the contact helping to ease his tense body. It seemed Eleanor also noticed; now alert, she searched his face. 

"How long have you been awake?" 

"Not too long ago," 

"Have you slept well?" 

"As well as you have," he said with another little smile. She groaned, knowing he meant what he said, and moved to part. Carl hugged her back, however, and pulled her even closer. She didn't put up any resistance. 

"What do you have to do today?" he whispered, his hands disentangling her hair absentmindedly. 

"Hm.... I have shooting practice today... with Aiden," 

"Your new best friend," he teased, she rolled her eyes, "I think I heard something like that yesterday. What was it, 8 o clock?"

"no... 8:30," she rubbed her eyes against his shoulder, " more than a shooting practice, it would be an opportunity for us to see the armory, the process of handling weapons, and figuring out how they have been getting resources until now," 

He nodded, "it's been years. Not even the CDC would have had enough provisions for so many people to last this long," 

She hummed in approval, “But things are not looking good. According to Diana’s list, they need at least four scavengers for runs. Have you seen the people at the party? Most of them are old, or with young children, or simply unfit for doing runs. Moreover, most houses are empty. I refuse to believe it has always been like that since the beginning,”

“You mean…. they died doing the runs?”

She sighed, “I wish it was my paranoia talking. As I said, Aiden doesn’t seem the type of such cruelty, but something must be going wrong in the runs and we need to sort it out before we go out there,”

“We-?” he tried to restrain his annoyed tone, unsuccessfully, “so, that means you won’t be our biology teacher,”

Eleanor remained silent. There it was, what he was dreading to hear. He felt Eleanor trying to break free from him, and a sudden impulse moved him to hug her tighter.

“I wish it wouldn’t be like this,”

“But, let me guess, we have no other choice,”

“.... for the moment, no;” he huffed, “I can’t let the others go there, to a situation that they can’t handle; obeying someone that they don’t know and apparently won’t think twice to let them die if things get tough. To him, we are nothing Carl, and I have to at least make sure that we gain the upper hand somehow,”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“.. today, at the practice,” she started, he released his hold to look down, she seemed determined, “we’ll see if my hunch is right or wrong. If things seem wrong, we’ll pull back, and I’ll talk to Dianna and ask for the full control of the runs;” he raised one eyebrow, “If she refuses and things get more complicated during the first run, I’ll have enough leverage so that she can’t refuse me again,”

“Will you be at the head indefinitely?”

She shook her head, “I have no interest in being the head. Once we do some runs and prove we mean business, I’ll leave the place to Daryl or Tyresse,”

He nodded, looking at the end of the bed. What she planned was reasonable; and she would get rid of the menace that Aiden represented early on, without violence.

He turned her eyes to her again, despite the determined look on her eyes, they danced… waiting to know if he thought her plans were good enough. Eleanor Shery, asking for confirmation? He smiled, with his heart skipping a beat, he moved to kiss her forehead. “It doesn’t sound too bad,”

More animated, she asked “What do you have to do today?”

“I’ll restart my schooling. There is an improvised school at the backyard of the Andersons,”

“Your second family,” she said with a smirk. It was time to roll his eyes. “When will that be? 8:30?”

“No, 8:00”

“Ah… so that’s how we got our schedules mixed,”

After that,  they remained silent. Eleanor buried her face back in his chest, and he rested his chin over her head. With a long breath, he let his arms rest around her frame.

If only all mornings could be like this… he wouldn’t ask for anything else. No matter if they slept, or they didn't; as long as they stayed like this… it would be perfect. He even wondered how he hadn’t gone insane before; probably because he didn’t know what he was missing out on. It was different from all  the times they had slept next to each other. This space was theirs and theirs only, and he almost wished time could freeze if that meant they would stay like this a little longer.

“We need to get up,”

No they didn’t. Carl closed his eyes, suddenly feeling heavy, heavier than ever.

“Carl, your dad will come by any minute,”

No, it was okay. Just a little nap, just another 5 minutes, he was finally feeling sleepy again.

“Carl!” She whispered, squirming under his arms and giving little shoves, “Carl, I hear footsteps, please!”

With a defeated sigh, he turned and got out of bed. The cold prickled at his skin, but he commented nothing as he went through the secret door and closed it with care. Then, he looked at his bed and scrambled the sheets around to appear as if he just got up.

He was pulling off his shirt when his father knocked on the door once, and then entered right after.

“Carl, you are already awake,” he frowned once he got a good look at him, “You slept well?”

“I had trouble falling asleep. It was probably all the soda I had yesterday,”

His father nodded, his eyebrows furrowed. Carl willed himself to move around and grab a blue shirt that was lying on the ground.

“If you are too tired… maybe you can rest for the day, and try to catch up on your own,”

Oh? Carl turned, it was not common for his father to be that forgiving…. Did he look that bad? Eleanor didn't  comment or anything… did she not notice? Or maybe she did and she just prefered to keep silent.

“It 's okay. I don't  even know where to start catching up, and I'm already half changed,”

His father nodded with a grunt. “You have 15 minutes to have breakfast, so hurry up.”

Ah that was the Rick Grimes he knew. With a stretch he fetched some clean clothes and moved to the bathroom. There, he found a half asleep Eleanor and a very much awake Michonne. The latter was brushing her teeth with enthusiasm, and the other one did so lazily. Carl greeted both women and grabbed a toothbrush of his own, mimicking their actions.

“Hm,” Michonne spit the paste, “you look haggard,”

“Dad said the same. Is it that bad?” with the toothbrush hanging on his mouth, he turned to look in the mirror. He did have dark circles under his eyes.

His gaze wandered to a corner of the reflection, where he found worried chocolate brown eyes. He glared; So what? She regretted all the things she told him yesterday? Well, he didn't  regret them at all, no matter if it gave him one bad night. It was one bad night, he has had plenty of those; she didn't  have to give him that look.

Distracted, he forgot about the paste, and he moved to pass down what he thought was extra saliva.

He heard Michonne laugh out loud as he choked, coughed and spit the remaining paste the best he could. He heard her comment something about him still sleeping, but he said nothing, washing his face with water and hastily drying it before going out of the bathroom.

“Carl…..,” His dad called once more “you have 5 minutes!”

“I’m going down!” he shouted back as he descended the stairs. There, he was met with the most surreal scene of his life.

Sat, his father was giving Baby Judith some apple pureé (the very same that he said could be poisoned), The baby sat on a baby chair, another unusual thing for him, and she kicked her little legs as their father tried to make the spoon fly around every once in a while, when his sister got distracted.

The image stole a smile from his face. He looked around, and found a plate with a toast with peanut butter, and a glass of something white. Suspicious, Carl took the glass and smelled it.

“It’s milk,”

“Milk! where did you get milk!” he frowned, “it’s soy milk?”

His father made a slow turn, looking at his son in disbelief, “And what if it were soy milk?” the teenager grimaced at it, “It’s powdered milk, now drink,”

Carl took a reluctant sip. It was watered down, but he could identify the taste; he grinned and gulped down enjoying every drop left.

“It’s eight,”

“Fine,” he complained. He put the empty glass on the sink, and passed by to give a kiss onto Judith’s forehead and a par on his father's shoulder. Then, grabbing the toast and putting it in his mouth, he looked around for an empty notebook and a pen, and opened the door.

“Whoa! Good morning young man!”

Carl couldn’t resist a glare. Diana again? Was she going to come and see if they were still there and kicking every morning? He took a bite of his toast and munched it down.

“Ms. Monroe, good morning. Please, excuse me,” he said, walking around her. 

“Oh yes! Go ahead,” she moved from the door as Carl walked down the porch. He gave a last look at Dianna as she disappeared inside his new house.

He only wondered what she had to talk with his father, and thought one last time of Eleanor's  plans for the day, before walking down the street.

~*~

“Not this again!”

Eleanor shushed Sasha, giving her a warning glare. This one looked away, and batted back Tyresse's hand when this one reached her shoulder. After Carl walked down the stairs, the others started coming out of their rooms and crowding the hallway. Sasha, Tyresse, Tara and Noah were there and willing to accompany Ellie to the second attempt at a shooting practice.

Michonne wanted another job, and Eleanor wondered if Glenn, Maggie and Carol would join her too.

“Dianna, good morning,” Eleanor greeted with a smile, “is Aiden indisposed today?”

“No, no. Nothing of the sort,” she turned to Rick, “I was just hoping to have a word with Mr. Grimes, before he went with you;”

“Oh. But he's not coming with us,” said Eleanor with a raised eyebrow, “you can talk to him. We will take out leave,”

“Okay then. Good luck today,”

“Thank you,” Eleanor said with a smile and walked out.

“Morning Daryl,”

He turned to look up. Sprawled on the stairs of the porch, he was carving something out of a piece of wood with a pocket knife. “Are you coming with us?”

“Like hell I'm going with you,” he said, scratching his nose, “I don't  need to practice my shooting. I don't  want to hear whatever Adrien has to say,”

“Its Aiden,”

“Whatever,” he grunted again; “I'm  not going to runs with him either,”

“Okay. Do you know if Carol wants to go?”

He frowned, resuming his past time. “Ask her yourself,”

With a sigh, Eleanor walked off. In the end, only Glenn and Maggie joined them. Unlike Noah, who was not interested in studies, Beth wanted to gain some lost time. She had actually accompanied Carl to the Andersons, to see if she could learn something and make friends. Clearly it was Maggie's  suggestion, and a good one. Beth had never been interested in runs and that wouldn't  change now.

“So…. Do we have plans?” Asked Glenn.

“I can tell you that Aiden is not sorry for what he did. So expect lots of contempt from that asshole,”

“Anything else?”

Eleanor turned to Maggie, “I've been wondering why they need so many of us for runs. Only Tara and I are coming of our own volition, and that worries me. I want to see if Aiden is truly competent as he plays teams or plays solo,”

“What do you think Dianna wanted to talk about with Rick?” Asked Sasha. To that Eleanor shook her head but remained silent. At this point, things were so tense that anything could prove another argument between them and the people of Alexandria, and Eleanor couldn't  help but feel discouraged. She felt guilty she wasn't doing more for all to fit in; but, at the same time, she didn't want to force any of them to be submissive and over sacrificing just to fit in.

They arrived at the gate. There, three people were waiting for them.

“Good morning, Aiden… Nicholas, Olivia,” Eleanor greeted

“Morning,” Aiden stepped forward and scratched his head; “before anything, I would like to apologize,”

Eleanor willed herself to not show any expression on her face.

“I've been thinking of what we talked about yesterday. I have been unknowingly unjust to you and had I known what you were going through I wouldn't  have pulled  that prank as I did,”

Eleanor had to wonder. They didn't talk at the party enough to reach that conclusion, and the fact Aiden couldn't ‘imagine’ the life outside was even more laughable. This was a half baked attempt at making amends and at the same time keeping the moral ground. It was condescending, Eleanor knew, but the opportunity that was offered with that apology was too tempting to ignore. If Aiden showed himself like this and later he showed his true colors; the situation where she could deem him incompetent would present itself faster than expected.

So, she decided to smile, and extend her hand.

“I'll accept your apology, and be sure the others do too. Shall we start over?”

“Yeah, I would like to,” he said with a smirk. To a passer-by, it would have looked like harmless cheekiness. She knew better.

“Sure. My name is Eleanor Shery. I've been in charge of planning runs in our last camp,” she signaled  to the others, “these are Tyresse and Sasha  siblings and good sentinels. Glenn, Maggie and Tara  are great scavengers. Noah is good at making perimeters,”

He nodded, “what kind of weapons can you handle well?” He raised his hands, “normally, civilians would have limited knowledge, so I need to know where you stand,”

“Civilians?” Sasha asked, “you are not a civilian?”

“Well…  had some training before this…. ROTC. Was nearing lieutenant. when this shit blew in,”

“My dad did ROTC,” commented Tara. Aiden frowned.

“He didn't make it?”

“Nah,” she said with a lift of her shoulders.

“I'm sorry,” he said with a solemn tone that turned into a small smile, “I'm sorry a lot these days “ but he shook his head “Come on! I'll show you the ropes”

They took one weapon each from a tray that waited for them on the side. Eleanor took her blade and a handgun. The others took each weapon they came with. Then, Aiden walked to the door and the sentinels opened it, from there they walked into the woods.

“We're doing a run today?” asked Maggie.

“Just a dry run. Show you the terrain outside the walls, and see how you do. Weigh each other's sack a little, you know?”

They remained silent, and Eleanor  took momentum. “We'll probably get it later. How do you cover terrain?”

“We've been increasing our radius mile by mile, spreading in a semicircle around the town. We've made it 53 miles out so far. We break into two groups when we step outside our vehicle. If shit hits, we fire a flare. One group gets the other,”

“Good system,” commented Tara. Eleanor looked around. Everyone was on high alert.

“It is,” they started going uphill, Nicholas and Aiden were oblivious of everything. “Still, you're standing here because

We lost four people last month”

She shared a look with Glenn, this was it.

“What happened?” She asked, showing concern.

Aiden remained silent, he shook his head with sadness “Didn't follow the system. See, I can be a hard ass at times, but I wouldn't  risk a run or people's  lives to prove a point. Out there you follow me, and you'll  be okay,”

Nobody answered. There was a large rock they  had to go around for and Eleanor didn't have the chance to see where everyone stood on his commentary. His words were contradictory, and what she thought of him told her he was just twisting the facts to appear as if it hadn't  been his fault (something father Gabriel was also good at doing). She had to see for herself what kind of person he was, and act accordingly. Her experiences couldn't  allow her to just sit by and let time decide.

“Where are we going now,” she feigned worry.

“We are going to a place where we'll  test your resolve,” he said, again condescending. “It usually puts us in the right head-space before going to a run, and now it will tell me if you've  got what it takes,”

She caught Sasha rolling her eyes. Yeah, this time, she fought to not do the same.

Past the first rock, there were signs and cuts that signaled the way for them.  Aiden hadn't  said how to read them, leaving him and Nicholas as only guides. Eleanor wondered if that was on purpose to assert dominance or if she was just too paranoid at this point. Either way, after some signs, the trees became more scarce and a small clearing could be seen from a distance. Tired and bored, Eleanor moved to ask again where this test was, when Aiden cursed and took a mad run up front, Nicholas in tow.

Eleanor had to severely squash the thought they  were in danger. They reached  both men frantically looking around. Eleanor looked at a tree and found a rope that was smeared with rotten blood.

She let out a sigh. These idiots.

“Help me find it. Blood's still wet….. It's nearby,” Aiden said frantic

“Was this your idea of a good mindset?” asked Eleanor

“I’m in no mood to put up with your attitude!” he said angry and called around with a strong voice.

“Stop that! it’s gone!” said Glenn, now stepping it, “This is not attitude, keeping a walker like this is dangerous, he could have wandered on us,”

“You don’t get it, he. It took down one of our friends,” Nicholas chimed in, also screaming around to attract it.

“It's nearby, we're not letting it go!” Said Aiden, still yelping around.

“Aiden, walkers don’t think! What do you think you are accomplishing by doing this because vengeance isn’t it!” Eleanor insisted, getting angrier.

This one turned to her, and pulled out his gun, pointing at the air. Everyone screamed at him to stop once they noticed. She prepared to jump him, when a grunt was heard on the side, and behind the tree appeared the walker they were looking for. Tara and Glenn said so, trying to distract Aiden from the gun, and he turned, guarding it back in its holster.

“Hey, over here; come on. Come on, “ he urged, and half turned to them “We need to surround it! Come on people, move!”

“This is dumb,”  Said Sasha. For a moment Eleanor thought the woman was too stunned to speak. Annoyed, and bored, she turned the rifle around to aim at it.

“No don’t! Sasha, the sound could bring anything to our location,” Eleanor said before the woman could fire. She stopped, and guarded her rifle.

“Then what do we do?” She asked, at that point, Tara and Noah had joined Nicholas in distracting the walker to stop fixating on only one of them. Still, things went south fast, when the walker fell over Aiden. Alarmed, Nicholas tried to lift the body out of Aiden, but it was too heavy. Tara and Noah helped him.

“Tyresse, keep Nicholas away. Glenn, lift Aiden. I’ll kill it,”

She ran forward. Just as Noah and Tara managed to lift it, she called for them and they parted. Tyresse dragged Nicholas away and this one protested. Before anything else happened, Eleanor grabbed the walkers head from behind and pierced her blade forward.

“No!” She heard Aiden. She turned, the man was fighting to leave Glenn’s hold. He looked at Eleanor and she shook her head. Glenn let Aiden go, and this one made a straight line to Eleanor, towing over her, he grabbed her by the collar of her jacket.

“Who the fuck told you to do that!”

“So you wanted to die!” she screamed right back, slapping his hand away and stepping behind. He stepped forward.

“They already had it-”

“And they could have been bitten any minute!-”

“I gave you an order!!!” he used his body to push her back, His spit and foul breath fell all over her face and she grimaced. “Out there you follow my orders!” 

She pushed him, but he barely moved. Then, another hand pushed him and fell to the ground. She turned around, Tyresse was by her side. She looked around, and Nicholas was held at gunpoint by Noah.

“We won’t follow your orders,” Maggie said suddenly, “look where they took us, you're mad!”

“We weren’t helping you because you told us,” Tara added.

“Let’s get something clear Aiden,” she said while he scrambled to stand, “We are here because Dianna told us you needed our experience. Don’t get confused, you are here to obey us. And this practice is over,”

She turned to leave. And the rest followed short. She made her steps larger, and she could hear Aiden shouting in the back for them.

“This is getting out of hand,” commented Tyresse as they walked down.

“Maggie. get ahead of us and tell Rick. With some luck, Dianna will still be there, we won’t wait for this fight to cool down,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, now please hurry,” Eleanor insisted, Maggie nodded, and She and Noah ran back to camp.

“What will we do now?” asked Tara

“We’ll keep our heads cool and let them make fools of themselves;” Eleanor said, as they stood in front of the gates, these ones were already half opened to let Maggie and Noah inside. “Don’t react to their provocations, we are not in the wrong,” she said, as she heard him closer, “Walk ahead,”

“What?” asked Sasha. Eleanor turned and walked back to watch an incensed Aiden grab her arm with force.

“I’m getting sick and tired of you!” he pulled on her arm and she resisted.

“The rest of Alexandria is the other way Aiden,” she commented

“I’m done with you!” He pulled her forward. Eleanor let herself be pulled and pushed to the ground. her body crashed onto the pavement and it stung, She heard alarmed voices calling her and she moved to stand. But before she would, she felt her hair being pulled.

She screamed, and came face to face with Aiden.

“You’ll hear me once and for all. If you keep up this fight I’ll make sure you stay outside to die,” he said in an angry whisper.

Half flinching, she smiled, “ I’ve faced scarier things than you. Unlike you, I’m not afraid of being outside,”

She slapped his ears with force. Aiden snarled, and let her go. Falling on her knees, she stood fast to see that not everyone followed her advice. Nicholas had moved to punch Glenn, who not only dodged, but put him in the ground with a shove of the elbow. She looked back at Aiden, who was regaining equilibrium, this one glared at her and launched forward, forming a fist.

For a moment, Eleanor thought that this would hurt a lot, but it would be the last nail in the coffin. Unmoving, she  closed her eyes and braced for impact. But the punch never came. She reluctantly opened her eyes, and noticed the young man flat on his ass, behind him was none other than Rick Grimes. Dianna was some feet away trying to calm down everybody.

“Rick–”

“Think very carefully before you say another word,” he spat, angrier than she ever expected, “Because I know what you are trying to do,”

She glared back. “Well, we didn’t start it,”

“Why did you let these people in!” Aiden screamed frustrated once Dianna helped him stand.

“Because we actually know what we're doing out there-”

“Sasha,” Rick menaced, “That’s enough! from all of you!”

“These people won’t be on the runs!” Aiden moved to say, thinking that Rick was taking his side. 

“Aiden!” Dianna admonished and told him something she quite couldn’t hear, “I want everyone to hear me, okay?” she said turning around, Eleanor realized the commotion had made people out of their houses. Michonne was there too. “Rick and his people are part of this community now in all ways as equals.” she turned to Aiden and Nicholas once more, “Understood?”

This one took a deep breath, he still seemed angrier than ever, but he let his gaze fall.

“Understood,”

“Good, All of you, turn in your weapons,” Dianna said with an authoritative tone, “Rick and Michonne are the new constables, so they will handle  what happened,” she said. Eleanor raised her eyebrows

“You are a cop again?”

“Seems like it,” he said, still scowling, “Everyone will take turns of two to talk to me, you and Glenn first,”

She huffed, and moved to leave her weapons back at the rack with Olivia. She caught Rick, Glenn and Michonne fast.

“So, this was your big plan?” Rick asked once they were relatively alone

“It almost worked like a charm,” she commented.

“Almost. I want to hear the truth of what happened,” Rick turned to Glenn, “And we’ll see if it adds up with what Maggie said,” he turned to look at her again, “Then you’ll have those bruises checked,”

“....” she took a breath, “You wished I hadn’t done it?”

Rick stopped, and turned fully. She crossed her arms, refusing to be intimidated, but she was surprised instead. Rick had an eyebrow up, he was not mad, nor was he happy. He looked genuinely worried.

“That’s not the only thing I have to talk to you about,”

Chapter Text

"I'll sit here?"

Rick looked at Glenn, who fretted about the camera that was poised in front of him. He hated this — it reminded him of Dianna — and he believed the actions everyone took were justified. Then again, proof was needed so that Dianna thought the same, and so that they didn't look like the ones at fault for this incident. He didn't know if Eleanor had accounted for this in her big scheming, but he was willing to contribute to it.

"Yes," he adjusted the camera. "This is only to see each and every testimony without missing any detail." He crossed his hands. "Now tell me, what happened in the woods?"

"It started with us going to greet Nicholas, Aiden, and... the girl." Glenn turned to Eleanor. "What was her name?"

"Olivia."

"Olivia, yes. I forgot, sorry."

"It's okay," Rick nodded. "Go on."

"Aiden started explaining how they did the runs. It appeared odd to us that if one team could fire a flare to save the others, four people died in the last run—"

"He said they didn't follow the system, and so they died," Eleanor finished for him. "He added that we needed to follow his orders if we didn't want the same happening to us. We didn't comment."

"Okay..." Rick nodded. "Then what?"

He now sat in front of the next pair.

"He said we would do a dry run, and that we would look around some of the terrain — but first, that we needed to get into the right mind-space."

The version of Eleanor and Glenn was adding up just as the one from Tara and Noah; the woman continued, "He then cursed and ran forward with Nicholas. We didn't know what it was until he started calling for something."

"There was a rope with blood hanging from a tree. He had tied a walker there, and it had escaped," Noah continued. "We told him it was gone and it was no use searching for it, but he didn't listen... he said the walker killed one of them and they needed to get revenge."

"Eleanor tried to explain to him how useless that was. But instead of listening, he pulled out a gun. He would have fired into the air just to make enough noise to attract the walker! And you know how dangerous that is, Rick!"

"I know. Go on..."

"He didn't fire though," Sasha hurried to say. "That dumb—"

"Hm," Tyreese hummed, touching his sister's shoulder. The woman rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, looking away. Rick let out a sigh — it was a good idea to pair Sasha with her brother; he suspected this would happen.

"Sasha, go on. Without calling names."

"Fine." She glared at him. "He never fired. The walker appeared, and he shouted at us to round it and trap him but not kill it. I was about to kill it myself, but Ellie stopped me."

"The same issue would have arisen," added Tyreese. Sasha seemed to deflate at that.

"The rifle didn't have a silencer, and I didn't notice... I'm sorry—"

"No, no. It was an honest mistake, and you stopped in time," Rick said with a raised hand. "What happened next?"

Both siblings looked at each other. Tyreese decided to go on. "The walker fell on Aiden. Nicholas tried to lift it on his own, but Noah and Tara had to help him. Eleanor took action and instructed me to lift Aiden and pull him away while she killed the walker."

"..."

"..." Sasha remained silent, and Rick urged her on.

"Then, what happened?"

"He went mad. Shouting we disobeyed him, that we weren't supposed to kill it. He went straight for Eleanor, standing over her, menacing her with his height. She didn't answer, and we defended her," Sasha grimaced.

"She did say something," Tyreese corrected her. "She said that Dianna wanted our experience with the walkers, that Aiden was there to learn from us, and that we called the shots. She ended the shooting practice before walking away."

"Was there no other confrontation later?"

Both siblings looked at each other. Sasha, in the end, decided to talk. "Eleanor instructed Maggie to tell you as fast as she could what happened. There was tension, and she feared we would be blamed for it, even if what we did was right."

"By the time you arrived, Aiden had gotten physical with Eleanor. He tried to drag her away and prevent her from entering camp. He pushed her, grabbed her, and almost punched her before you stopped him."

Rick walked with the camera and a pack of two tapes in his arms. 

All recounts fit—all, in every detail. As a cop, he had been trained to detect when there was foul play in a testimony. A recount being too perfectly symmetric between witnesses was usually a bad sign. However, all groups told the same story in their own terms; sometimes, some saw more than others. One conclusion was that Aiden wanted to use a walker to scare Eleanor and the others, and it backfired on him horribly. To some extent, he understood Eleanor's approach. Something had happened back at the party; at first, he thought she was just resisting interactions with the Monroes, as Carl was objecting to his involvement with the Andersons, but now he was sure she had seen something. 

They were delusional in their approach to the walkers. They had no idea, and they acted as he and his group had acted back at the barn: fearful, ignorant, and yet with a sense of sufficiency and pride over how they still kept habits and mentalities from before the outbreak. It took him more fuck-ups than he could count to realize that mentality killed people—that so many people died in the most stupid of ways because they were scared, because they couldn't accept that this was now their reality. 

Eleanor tried to approach this in a smart way. As he saw it, Aiden had shot himself in the foot. All recounts were against him, and if he embellished his version of the story, it would only prove that he was trying to hide something. If that were the case, Eleanor would take full control of the runs for the time being, and they would be safe. 

The problem was that Eleanor counted on Dianna being impartial. The fact he was now walking to her house to question Aiden and Nicholas was, for him, proof enough that wasn't the case. 

He arrived and used the bell. The one to greet him was Dianna herself. She smiled, but she seemed wary. 

"Are you done with the others, Rick?"

"Only your son and Nicholas remain," he said solemnly. "I've come to record them too, so that we can compare versions."

She nodded and moved aside for Rick to enter. The living room was just as he had found it when they first arrived, and now Aiden sat on the chair he once was. Nicholas was standing next to him. 

Without a word, Rick installed the cameras once again. 

"We'll be recorded?" asked Aiden. Rick resisted any comment but couldn't suppress a smile. 

"All have been recorded, Aiden," his mother commented. "And only your testimony remains. Nicholas, here..." she said, pulling up a chair, "you can sit here."

"Thank you, Ms. Monroe," said Rick, sitting on the sofa opposite them. "Alright, please start from the beginning."

"Right," Aiden began, "First of all, I would like to make it clear that what happened the other day—the prank—"

"Please, just stick to what happened today," Rick cut him short. "Whatever happened before will not affect what happened today. Eleanor requested a shooting practice with you at 8:30. Begin from there."

Aiden looked up. Rick didn’t turn to check, but he knew that at that moment, Dianna walked out of the room and out of sight. After that, Aiden cleared his throat.

"We went with Olivia, and she gave us the guns. Nothing fancy, just some handguns to measure if they knew how to use them. Then we went outside—we were planning on measuring their experience with the walkers and doing a dry run..."

Rick didn’t react and turned to Nicholas. This one continued for Aiden.

"We usually do a little exercise to get into the right mindset. We confront the newcomers with a walker and see how they react. This time it was a special one—because of it, we lost important people, and we had been reserving it—"

"All was well prepared and contained. Sometimes, things get a little tough, but it's not something to start being a prick about."

Rick shook his head, frowning. "What do you mean? What happened?"

They looked at each other. Aiden spoke first. "The walker broke free. We tried to search for it, and that’s when Eleanor started openly antagonizing us."

"Yes, she complained that what we were doing made no sense. I think she was scared."

"Terrified. When the walker finally came to us, we ordered them to corner it so that we could tie it up again. At least two of your group managed to do as told, but the others..." Aiden shook his head, disappointed. "Just stood there, in shock. If they had done what I asked, then the walker wouldn’t have fallen on me. I could have died."

"That’s when they decided to move. I was trying to lift the walker off Aiden, but it was too much for me alone. I called for help, but no one moved! Then, one of yours yanked me to the side and killed the walker."

"I confronted Eleanor, but she didn’t seem to know what she did wrong," he huffed in disdain. "She just called off the shooting practice and went back on her own accord. I blocked her path—she was running away from it all, and I couldn’t allow it... for the sake of the group and the future runs." He stopped for a moment and rubbed his nape. "I don’t know how to say this. You did stop me from doing something stupid, but..."

"But..." Rick urged him to continue.

"It almost felt as if she was baiting me. As if she was waiting for this to happen," Aiden said with a somber look.

Well, at least one thing he said was true. 

Rick let out a tired sigh, rubbing his eyes. He couldn’t say that Eleanor didn’t act in a way that exposed the worst side of Aiden. But, at the same time, she hadn’t planned for the walker to escape, and she certainly hadn’t planned for Aiden to be so stupid as to think it was worth risking his life to capture an undead still moving. Rick stood and made sure the recording was still going before turning the camera off, then pulled out the tape. He worked in silence, listening as Nicholas stood from his spot and walked over to him. 

“What will happen now?”

“I’ll revise the tapes one by one and make a report that Dianna will read on the matter.”

“Pff,” he heard Aiden scoff from the back. “But all their versions are going to fit in except for ours. I told you, she wanted this to happen.”

“This was my job before the outbreak, Aiden,” Rick said with a glare. “Tara told me you were from the ROTC—then you must know the procedures in interrogation, and the tactics to look out for when someone is making up a story.”

He waited for a response. Aiden crossed his arms and nodded. Bullshit, Rick thought. It was already clear to him. He stayed quiet, and Dianna entered the room soon after.

“Are we done here, Rick?”

“Yes.”

“Great,” she turned to Aiden and Nicholas. “Aiden, could you be so kind as to escort Nicholas back to his house?”

“Gonna talk alone with Rick now? To see who was culprit?” her son said in anger.

“Yes,” Dianna answered with a knowing smile, and both young men left through the front door.

Only an awkward silence remained.

With a knowing smile, she turned to Rick.

“I won’t ask you who is in the right, or the wrong, or who is lying,” she began. “I just want to know the brief details of everyone and what you, as a former police officer, think about all this.”

“...” Rick paused, then turned off and covered the camera’s viewfinder before walking away to sit down. Dianna sat across from him and crossed her legs, waiting.

“As a cop, I can tell you that the only testimony that sounds different from the rest is the one from Nicholas and Aiden,” he nodded. “The events were recounted in the same order, yes... but it’s clear that they tried to make things appear in their favor, which is never a good sign.”

Dianna nodded. “And the others didn’t do the same?”

“Some are upset, but their complaints come from a place of experience,” he frowned. “Now, if you want me to explain, I wouldn’t be the cop—I’d be the survivor.”

Rick resisted the urge to cringe. He had never called himself a survivor, not even at the beginning. Even if that’s what they were, he dreaded the word. Because many others had been survivors in their own right as well, and they had died, they had gone mad, they had been eaten. Being a survivor now didn’t make him any better than those who died along the way.

Still, he knew perfectly well it was a term Dianna would like to hear.

“Yes, please... if you can,” she said, motioning with her hand. Alright then, Rick said to himself.

“Your son made a rookie mistake,” he raised his hand when Dianna tried to speak. “And I don’t mean treating everyone as if he knows better. That’s attitude. Eleanor can’t stand that attitude—as much as I know, that’s why they can’t get along. Regardless of that, Aiden tied a walker to a tree, hoping to get revenge on it later, thinking that it wouldn’t escape, and that it would put the rest in the right ‘headspace.’”

He frowned again, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. Saying it out loud made it even worse.

“There is nothing more absurd,” he began. “Being in the right ‘headspace’ is simply not dying. It’s protecting each other, reasoning that walkers are dead people affected by a disease that controls their bodies. They don’t think, or feel, or scheme. Getting revenge on them, as your son puts it, is utterly useless because you aren’t avenging anything. If a person was bitten by a walker and you could have helped, it’s your fault and no one else’s. Giving them that sense of importance will only put you in danger. Putting yourself in danger for nothing.”

Dianna remained silent, until she nodded, serious.

“And Eleanor knows this.”

“Of course she knows this. Walkers decay with time—a rope is never a good way to hold them still. That walker would have bitten Aiden if Eleanor hadn’t acted as fast as she did. She did what she would have done with any of us. Nicholas said she was terrified,” Rick gave a sardonic laugh. “I’ve never seen Eleanor afraid of walkers. Even when we met her in Atlanta... we were the ones who were afraid.”

Dianna’s eyes widened in surprise. “Do you mean... she taught you to fight walkers... and not the other way around?”

“Without her, we wouldn’t be here. None of us,” he looked to the side. “All we know... all we are... she had to make us see what this whole thing is. When it comes to walkers, I trust her judgment more than anybody else... even myself.”

“But that’s only with walkers,” Dianna said with a knowing smile.

“She’s a kid,” he grimaced and shook his head. “She was a child... when she started. She’s not the best judge of character. She’s naive and too eager to help. She knows that when it’s about people—I decide.”

Even if lately she’s been on a rebellious streak about it. But Rick couldn’t complain; he had treated her badly.

Still, that wasn’t something Dianna had to know.

"I understand now," she said after a pause. Rick nodded.

"What will you do?"

"I'll review the tapes tonight. But for now... now I have enough to make a decision." She let out a sigh. "I feared this could happen—and it did. Aiden is not a bad person, but he is impetuous, and he might have interpreted Eleanor's words as a challenge to his authority. But what you've told me only reminds me that we need to change our way of thinking." She took a deep breath. "Action will be taken now. And for that to happen, I need to talk to Eleanor... in person."

Rick grew uneasy, the conversation he had just had with Dianna replaying in his mind. "I still haven’t told her what we discussed."

"Then don’t tell her. It’s better we face this... one on one. I see now that she has more than a simple managing role in your group, and what you’ve told me makes much more sense. I think I need to talk to her as what she’s always been... a leader."

She said it with conviction, but Rick knew that whatever conciliation the two women reached, it would affect them—perhaps all of them—negatively, one way or another.

It was yet another promise he had to break.

“I’ll call her in.”

He said his goodbyes and walked back to the house assigned to him. It was midday, and the place was lively but peaceful. He crossed paths with a few people here and there, and thanks to the party the other day, he was greeted with familiarity. Still, there were some heads hidden in the shadows. Among them, he spotted Nicholas, whispering with outrage.

Rick couldn’t resist a smirk.

He wondered what it would have been like to meet Eleanor before the outbreak. This whole drama she had just pulled off—had she always enjoyed stirring the pot like this? Was she popular? Or more of a rebel, a fish swimming against the current?

Either way, she must have been a constant headache for her father.

“So... what did they say?”

He looked up, almost amused. Eleanor was waiting by the porch, Michonne beside her. Rick took a moment to glance at the black woman. The security uniform she wore wasn’t unfamiliar to him—it was almost identical to a police uniform, and he felt a strange comfort and nostalgia seeing it. But he had never imagined what Michonne would look like as a cop. She looked even more intimidating than when they’d first met. Scary—but in a way that made him tingle.

He groaned in guilt and embarrassment. What the hell was he thinking?

“What does that mean? Does that mean something bad?” Eleanor insisted, anxious. She frowned. “I saw Nicholas a few blocks away. He’s playing the victim like he’s running for the Oscars.”

“Well... wouldn’t you know about that?”

She glared, crossing her arms and cleaning a canine with her tongue. He could feel Michonne’s incredulous stare without even turning.

“You might not believe this, but Dianna is on your side.”

Eleanor’s first instinct was to scoff, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“I mean it. She wants to reach a middle ground. But for that, she’s asking for you—and only you—which is a great sign.”

She no longer looked so disbelieving. Eleanor blinked, her arms falling from their crossed position. She looked Rick up and down, and a small smile tried to reach her lips.

He raised a hand. “Don’t show that face as you walk down that road, Eleanor.”

“I know, I’m not an idiot,” she muttered.

He grimaced. “There’s one more thing... Dianna wants to continue the talk she had with me—this time, with you.”

Eleanor tilted her head, confused. Then the memory struck her, and she frowned.

“Why? What did you talk about?”

With a final sigh, Rick scratched his head and looked down, defeated.

“It’s about Carl.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wow... just, wow."

Carl glared at Ron, and Mike snickered. He glanced at Enid, who only looked the other way—but he could swear she was smirking.

"How is a guy who's a pro at Counter-Strike so bad at studying?" Mike asked.

"What does that even have to do with anything?" Carl snapped, annoyed.

"Isn’t it supposed to be a game of strategy?"

"Pff," he rolled his eyes. "If anything, it’s about..."

Experience.

Carl stopped himself before saying the word, scrambling for a quick recovery.
"Uh... quick thinking."

"At least it has 'thinking' in there," Ron added, and they all snickered again.

"Hey, it's been a while, alright? I’m taking basic and advanced at the same time. I’ll get it," Carl explained, clearly frustrated.

"How long have you been like this?"

Carl looked away. "Twelve."

"What?!" Mike and Ron shouted, immediately peppering him with more questions—too many. As Carl tried to deflect with an excuse about supper and offered no details, his eyes met Enid’s.

She gave him that look—not pity, not surprise. Empathy. The kind that comes from having lived it. From having survived it.
More than ever, Carl saw it clearly: Enid had come to this place the same way they had. He couldn’t stop the sense of camaraderie rising in him, the softening of his gaze.
But Enid noticed—and just as quickly as it had appeared, her expression vanished.

“Carl.”

He turned. Beth was standing beside them. Unlike him, she was old enough now to help Maggie and Glenn around rather than sticking to study hours. So if she was here looking for him, there could only be one reason.

He let out a sigh, already exasperated.

“Really?” he muttered. “Now I can’t even walk back alone?”

More laughter from behind him. This was the worst.

“Um... he told me to make you return ASAP,” Beth said, giving him an apologetic smile. “Said it was urgent. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Another sigh.

Carl turned, waved to the others, and began walking briskly with Beth toward the house.

“What’s this about?” he asked again.

“No idea,” Beth said, a little out of breath. “I was coming back with Noah when we crossed paths with your dad. He…” she paused, “he looked... worried. No—resigned.”

They slowed down. Carl frowned. “Maggie told me what happened this morning... No one was seriously injured, but—”

Injured?

Carl froze. He remembered his conversation with Eleanor that morning. A chill passed through him.

He paled.

Without another word, he turned and sprinted. “I’ll hurry there—don’t worry,” he called out as he ran ahead, leaving Beth behind.

He didn’t hear shouting. No chaos. No signs of injury.

Eleanor couldn't be hurt... could she?

Or maybe she was missing.

Maybe... maybe she’d done what she said she would. Maybe she’d made her move—and got rejected.

Or maybe she’d gotten in trouble with Aiden. Maybe they fought.

Maybe she’d been expelled.

He climbed the stairs two at a time and flung the door open with a loud rattle. His strides to the living room were long and urgent.

Everyone was there—including Eleanor.

She stood up, and he made a beeline for her. As if on cue, the others began to stand and file out of the room—some nodding, others tossing quick hellos. Carl reached her and grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes scanning left, then right.

Finding nothing unusual, he turned to his father.

“What happened?”

Rick didn’t answer. Instead, he stood, tapped Carl gently on the shoulder, and walked out, just like the others.

“Wh—what?” Carl stammered, watching his father head toward the stairs. “Wait... Dad!”

“It’s okay, Carl. Nothing happened. At least, nothing you’re thinking,” Eleanor said calmly.

“Really?” he turned to her, his voice rising. “And what do you think I’m thinking?”

“You came in like someone was injured,” she said, glancing away. “No one was... injured.”

“And what’s that pause, then?” Carl pressed, glancing around again. But Eleanor stepped closer and took him by the shoulders.

“Okay, okay. I’ll explain. Just... please, sit.”

Carl hesitated at first, but Eleanor took his hand and gently guided him to sit beside her.

“So... today I told you about something I planned to do—”

“—take Aiden’s role away,” he cut in, eyes sharp. “So you did.”

“He took us into the woods. He had a walker tied up—maybe to scare us,” Eleanor said, and Carl cringed so hard she shook her head. “Actually, we didn’t have to do anything. When we got there, the walker broke loose. We killed it, and he lost his shit.”

“I didn’t hear gunfire.”

“Because we stopped his ass before he could shoot.”

Carl nodded. Stupid... absolutely mental. But plausible. He began to relax slightly, shifting in his seat.

“And then?”

“And then... I...” she looked away, making a vague gesture with her hand. “Well, I may have acted in a way that angered Aiden more than I should’ve.”

He frowned. “I don’t get it.” His glare sharpened. “Explain yourself.”

“Well... I didn’t do anything when he manhandled me. In front of everyone.”

Seriously?

Carl let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his face.

Now he understood what Beth meant when she said no one was seriously injured.

“Did he hit you?”

“He pushed me, and I fell,” she said, shifting in place. “Your dad stopped him before he went further.”

“So he was going to hit you,” Carl snapped. “And you were just going to let him?”

“Well, I thought—”

“But my dad stopped him, so what—now you failed?”

“We don’t know yet. Your dad questioned us—and them. Dianna had to decide who was in the wrong.”

“She did? So... she already decided?” He leaned forward. “What did she say?”

“She said we were in the right,” Eleanor answered softly.

“Okay... I’m still confused. You got what you wanted. So why do you all look like you didn’t?”

Eleanor looked down. “Remember when Dianna came to talk to your dad this morning?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. “She wanted to talk about you... and me.”

Her eyes met his again, and Carl felt that same twisting sensation in his stomach.

“And what? That’s not her business,” he said sharply, trying to suppress the growing fear. “What is it to her?”

“At first, she wanted to make sure your dad knew what was going on. That he thought I was safe for you... and that he approved of us,” she took a breath. “But after the fight with Aiden, she called me again. We talked about what happened. She said I was in the right but...”

She paused, her gaze searching his face. Carl looked down.

“And?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“She... well, she agreed that it’s best I take charge of the supply runs for now. But she also made it clear that, if I’m going to lead... I have to follow all the rules. I can’t afford any questionable actions that could risk my position. At least not until Aiden can take it back—or—”

Carl stood abruptly and walked to the door.

“Carl... wait.”

“I think I’ve heard enough,” he muttered, opening the door.

“But—it’s not what you think!”

“I don’t really care, okay? You got what you wanted. You’ve got rules now—then follow them. But leave me out of it.”

He climbed down the steps. As he walked down the road, he resisted the urge to look back. But he heard no footsteps, no voice calling after him.

So he quickened his pace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eleanor moved toward Dianna's house, a strange mix of walking too fast and dragging her feet.

When she passed the group talking with Nicholas, she didn’t give him a second glance.

What would she say to Dianna?

She was certain the woman had readily accepted Rick’s suggestions until now because she had this as leverage against her.

Eleanor could see it now: Dianna presenting her relationship with Carl as an excuse — a double standard that didn’t exist — just to keep Aiden in place, claiming what he did was an honest mistake.

She couldn’t let that happen.

But what could she say to prevent it?

Rick had said most of it. He had consented. So maybe... she could use that in her favor.

She was only a few steps away from the house — too fast for her liking.

Sitting on the porch stairs, half-reclining against the railing, was Aiden Monroe.

She rolled her eyes.

“What do you want now?” he spat, clearly irritated.

“With you? Nothing,” she replied, eyeing him for a moment before climbing the first step.

Then she turned, climbed over the railing, and stepped onto the porch.

Aiden huffed and stood. “Anyone watching would’ve realized you could’ve stopped me.”

Eleanor ignored him and rang the doorbell. She kept her gaze forward as Aiden moved closer. She could feel his hot breath near her ear, and flinched in disgust.

“I know you did that on purpose,” he whispered.

“Climb the railing? Yes, I feared you’d trip me out of spite,” she said with a small smile.

At that moment, Dianna opened the door. Eleanor resisted showing her surprise when Dianna glared at Aiden — the look of a mother tired of her son’s antics.

Aiden stepped away and walked down the porch. Eleanor took a long breath.

“Dianna, Rick told me you were looking for me.”

“Eleanor, yes. How are you feeling?” Dianna asked, stepping aside.

Eleanor followed her in and closed the door behind them.

“Much better, thankfully. Just some scratches here and there,” she said.

They both sat in the same places they had during Eleanor’s first interview with Dianna, just days ago.

At least this time, there was no camera in sight.

“I wanted to talk to you because…” Dianna began, folding her hands. “As Rick briefed me on his findings about the incident, I realized I had a few doubts about the decisions made.”

“Yes, of course,” Eleanor nodded. “What would you like to know?”

Dianna smiled faintly and looked down for a moment.

“Rick was adamant that what you did for my son was something... you would have done for any of your people.” She frowned. “Is that true?”

Eleanor took a breath.

“We’ve learned the hard way some truths that many won’t like to hear. One of them is that walkers… don’t deserve our hate. They deserve our compassion — and if not that, then at least our indifference.”

“Compassion?” Dianna echoed, frowning.

“Maybe the others mentioned it when we first came. If not… well, a few years back, we met a doctor from the CDC in Atlanta. The situation was delicate — I won’t go into details now — but he showed us something important. When someone is bitten and infected, they die. Then a part of the brain restarts — only a tiny part — just enough to drive movement and some instinct… but nothing as complex as thought or emotion.”

Eleanor crossed her hands over her knees.

“Walkers don’t feel. They don’t think. They don’t choose their victims. They’re literal cadavers that can’t rest. When we kill them, we’re just ending that reactive part of the brain again. Some might feel that killing walkers is a way of honoring the person who died — but the truth is, the person who was bitten is already gone. And most likely… you’d have to be the one to end them too.”

Eleanor watched Dianna closely. The older woman glanced around the room, absorbing the weight of the explanation. Then she closed her eyes and let out a long, tired sigh. She rubbed her eyes.

“So... you must understand what Aiden’s actions implied. We understood he didn’t know. We tried to tell him, but his next mistake was trying to attract the walker by firing his weapon — as if that wouldn’t draw all the other walkers to us, and to Alexandria by proxy.” Eleanor shook her head. “Thankfully, the walker appeared before he could.”

“What would you have done if the walker hadn’t appeared?” asked Dianna.

Eleanor couldn’t tell if the woman was worried, wary, angry, or simply calm — so she decided to keep being truthful.

“I would have disarmed your son,” she said, looking down as she considered her words. “Maybe tackled him, punched him, choked him — anything to subdue him. If he had fired anyway, then... well,” she gave a strained half-smile, “I suppose we would’ve told Rick, and started a perimeter watch to assess whether more walkers were drawn in.”

She looked up and out the window. “Your walls seem sturdy, but... a horde of fifty or more could tear them down.”

She wished she had exaggerated. Dianna, judging by her expression, seemed to wish the same — but she had recently gained a better perspective.

“Not long ago, we tried to enter Washington,” Eleanor continued. “There were at least a hundred walkers on the outskirts. I don’t know how far we are from that road, so I can’t say how far sound would travel. But that would be my biggest concern.”

A strained and rather unnerving silence followed. Dianna seemed in deep thought, and Eleanor wodered what she was thinking. She hesitated, should she continue? It was clear the rest needed no explanation. 

"Thank you," Dianna began. Her sudden words didn’t startle Eleanor, but they did make her tense a little.
"Aiden could have died because of that walker. And you saved him, despite… everything."

"Even if he was wrong, he still deserved to be protected. No one starts out knowing everything — and frankly, his attitude isn’t even original." Eleanor gave what might have been her first genuine smile. "Some of us were like that in the beginning. But what I’ve learned is to confront that attitude early — as immediately as I can — before it becomes a real problem."

As if Eleanor’s admission had opened a door, Dianna leaned back and smirked.

"Is that the only reason you’ve got it out for my son?"

Eleanor huffed.
"I would have liked Aiden to apologize in person for his prank the other day. But… in a place like this, with a house and a warm bed — how could he understand just how exhausted, how tense, how guarded we were in a new environment? Expecting to be welcomed… and being bullied instead."

She raised her eyebrows.
"And don’t get me wrong — we’ve seen plenty of bullies out there."

Eleanor looked down, then raised her eyebrows again and took a wary breath.
"That’s something I feared the gunshot would attract too. And that’s actually worse than walkers."

Dianna frowned and nodded solemnly. She pressed her lips together, slapped her thighs, and rubbed them absently before leaning back fully into the sofa. Then she nodded again.

Eleanor blinked and frowned, a little confused by her expressions — until Dianna smiled.

Smiled.

"I see it now," Dianna began. "Rick told me he trusted you completely — when it came to walkers and to safety. I see it now."

Did she? Eleanor tried not to get her hopes up too quickly.

"I see, and I apologize… for myself, for Aiden, and for Nicholas," Dianna said, now reclined and looking down at her joined hands.
"I wish we’d had this conversation the first day… but you didn’t trust me."

Time had been short back then, and Dianna had turned her attention to Carl — as if to get leverage over her. Would she do that now? Eleanor remained silent, resisting the urge to comment or bring up Carl herself.

"I'm decided," Dianna said. "I realize we have a lot of work ahead of us, and Aiden is too naive to manage it alone." Her business tone returned.
"I want to appoint you as head of runs from now on."

Good. Then it was official. Eleanor leaned back into the sofa.

"What about Aiden?"

"He’ll still be on the runs," Dianna replied, opening her hands. "He has to learn. And my son may be stubborn, but he will learn. He’ll have to, if he wants his job back." She smirked.

Ah, there it was.

"So my post is temporary?" Eleanor teased with a smile.

"It doesn’t have to be," Dianna said.

"You could share the responsibility with Aiden… eventually. You see—" she sat straighter, "I’ve been involved in politics nearly my whole career. I know how people work, especially in groups. Sudden shifts in authority are never received well," she nodded. "You’ll need support from insiders. You have mine — but having the support of the earlier administration will be beneficial for you and your… family, in the long run."

Old fox.

The word family in that sentence didn’t pass by unnoticed. But the conditions seemed reasonable. Eleanor knew this was the opportunity she’d been waiting for — even if something inside her still warned she should think it through. But she needed to act.

“All right,” she said with a sigh. “I agree with you. And I don’t want to fuel any animosity… I also want Aiden to learn.”

“I’m glad — and thankful — to hear that,” Dianna said with a smile. But it faded quickly. “Now… there’s one more thing I’d like to discuss.”

Ah. This was it. Eleanor steeled herself. “All right. Proceed.”

Dianna’s expression gave nothing away. “This morning, I visited Rick to ask how you were doing… and how you enjoyed the party. But other things came up,” she began. “Rick told me — briefly — about the nature of your relationship with his son… Carl.”

Eleanor took a deep breath, but before she could speak, Dianna continued.

“I don’t mean to meddle. I understand your situation is particular. Rick trusts you deeply, and he’s both aware and approving. I’ve nothing more to say on the matter,” she said with a faint smile.

Eleanor resisted the urge to relax.

“But,” Dianna added, placing a hand over her chest, “that’s just my opinion. We live in a community — not yet tightly knit, but structured. Orderly. And you’re stepping into a position of authority. That authority must also earn the trust of others.”

“It’s a private matter. I assure you it won’t interfere with my duties,” Eleanor said — perhaps too quickly, perhaps too bluntly.

“And I don’t believe it would,” Dianna replied smoothly. “But this isn’t about what it is — it’s about perception.”

She folded her hands again.

“I was thinking… since the relationship is there, and since Carl also has survival experience, he could join you on runs. That way, people would relax about it—”

“No.”

Eleanor cut her off.

Dianna paused, surprised.

“He won’t join the runs,” Eleanor repeated, and for the first time, her tone was hard. Unmoving. Unrelenting.

Dianna noticed the shift. Her brows lifted slightly, her spine straightened.

“To tell you the truth, I’m surprised. I thought he was treated as an equal in all this.”

Eleanor fought the urge to glare. They had been doing so well.

“He needs time to socialize with his peers. To catch up on his studies. And more importantly — to enjoy some peace,” she said, trying to soften her tone. “It’s not that he’s incapable — he certainly is. But he’s also entitled to…”

His childhood? Relaxation? A normal life? Happiness? Safety? Simplicity?

“…a rest,” she finished. “And I have no interest in being too readily acknowledged in that matter.”

Dianna tilted her head slightly. “Does that mean… you’ll keep it secret?”

“Private,” Eleanor corrected.

"...Of course," Dianna conceded with a cryptic smile. "May I ask… if that decision might change in the future?"

She didn’t let go, did she? Eleanor smiled—false, but broad. She knew there was no real way to win this entirely, but that had never been her goal.

"Well, we’ll see… maybe Aiden will adapt faster than we imagine."

"Maybe," Dianna echoed, rising to her feet. "Again, thank you for your honesty and your initiative. With you in charge, I’m certain things will change for the better." She extended her hand.

Eleanor looked at it for a second, then shook it.

"Excuse me, but I’ll take my leave now," Eleanor said, rounding the coffee table toward the door. "I need to tell Rick the good news."

"I understand," said Dianna with a merry laugh. "I do hope you’ll join us for dinner sometime. Ask Rick, Carl, and the others."

"I’ll ask them," Eleanor replied, stepping out. Aiden was nowhere in sight.

She stopped for a breath, then made her way back to the house.

That night, she slept alone… as she would for the foreseeable future.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Carl was awake at five.

He shivered, shifted in his bed once—twice—before settling on his back to stare at the ceiling. He rubbed his face tiredly and let out a weary sigh.

His dreams hadn’t been fragmented. In fact, he’d had a dreamless night. But it was the sudden jolts that kept him trapped somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. He was simply awake, tapping at one side of the bed, then the other, expecting to find her there. Hoping to touch an arm, a shoulder. Expecting warm breath against his skin, wavy hair brushing his fingertips… even a small embrace that could soothe any form of fire or frost inside him.

But she was on the other side—past a secret door, hidden behind a hanger.

And he refused to go to her first.

Why should he? He was always the one seeking. The one listening. The one understanding. The one waiting—as he was left behind.

Not this time.

This time, he would be heard. He would be understood. And he wouldn’t be left behind without a fight.

He knew now—there was no use in complaining, or getting angry, or pleading. Not even begging. Eleanor didn’t respond to those. He knew. The easiest way to cut her resolve… was silence.

It had worked when she was forced to go with Abraham. He’d been so mad, he withheld all contact. He could still remember the tears in her eyes when he finally reached out again.

His heart gave a sharp sting.

No. This time, he couldn’t yield.

Because Eleanor had chosen leadership over him. She had doubled down as chief of the runs—without him. And she was staying there, despite him.

She’d promised it was only until Aiden stepped back up.

Yeah, right. Why would she let Aiden step back up? The point of all this was for them to gain leverage. For Daryl or Tyreese to lead—not Aiden.

The fact that she had even said that yesterday… it told him everything.

It was bullshit. She wasn’t stepping down. And she simply couldn’t look him in the eyes and say it.

In three weeks, he would be sixteen.

Another sting tightened in his chest.

If she hadn’t talked—if she hadn’t said eighteen—they’d be free to do whatever they wanted in three weeks. But no. Even in that, she had to be against him. It was so unfair. He had never been against her. Never.

Why was she doing this to him now?

He heard movement beside his room. She was awake. His heart raced.

And the moment he saw the hidden door creak open, he shut his eyes tightly, pretending to be asleep. The darkness of winter would make his expression unreadable.

Soft footsteps reached his bed.

He felt her kneel beside him. Carl reminded himself to breathe—slowly, evenly. He was asleep.

Something was pressed into his hand. A small piece of paper.

Then—more darkness. A soft, warm kiss landed on his forehead. One, lingering. A second, fleeting.

She was standing again before he could move. She stepped away and walked out of his room.

Carl scrambled to sit up. He twisted the small piece of paper in his hand, hiding under the covers. With his flashlight, he read:

always remember I love you

 

His eyes welled with involuntary tears, and he wiped them away before they could fall.

What a tasteless lie. She didn’t love him. He loved her. And that’s why she could do whatever she wanted, while he… he was simply here. Alone.

As if he were in Terminus again.

He swallowed the note on impulse.

Then turned over, trying to sleep again.

~*~

"You didn't come to math class today."

Carl turned. At the sight of his face, Enid did a double take. She didn’t flinch, but her eyes said everything.

He’d learned in record time that Enid spoke with her eyes.

"I had a rough night," he nodded, rubbing his eyes. "And overslept. My dad said that, for today, it was alright."

He felt her coming closer. He didn’t move, and she sat beside him. They were on a small hill overlooking the park everyone shared. The strong midday light shone bright on the solar panels that powered Alexandria.

Carl stared ahead and sighed, rubbing his face again.

He remembered when Eleanor had wanted to implement those same panels at the prison. Her best ideas had always come before everything went to shit. Was this latest addition a shitty idea or a good one?

Maybe it was shitty—and that’s why it was working.

"Had a bad dream?" Enid asked again.

Two sentences already. That was a lot. He sighed and smiled, feeling guilty. Enid was making an effort to connect. He’d wanted this to happen, and it was happening—and he wasn’t appreciating it because of Eleanor.

"Not really. But I couldn’t sit still. To be honest, we’ve been sleeping on the floor for a full year. The comfy bed we have now felt... too comfy."
He chuckled, and Enid rolled her eyes but smiled.

"I'm weird… I know."

"Yeah, you’re weird," she conceded, and he snickered.

"Thank you. I know I look like shit, but I could look worse," he nodded, sighing. "At least there were no nightmares."

"Nightmares too?" she sighed, lifting her eyebrows. "Geez, I shouldn’t have asked."

He laughed for real. If someone had told him she had this kind of humor, he might’ve tried harder to talk to her before.

"It must be nice to not have any nightmares," he commented.

"I have. I just don’t cry about it." She hugged her legs.

"Ouch," he whispered. She smiled again.

"What do you suggest I do so I don’t go around being dramatic?"

"...We could read."

"Read?" He frowned.

"Comics," she clarified. "Though my stash was hidden in one of the houses you’re using now," she confessed.

Ah… so that’s why she’d approached.

He stretched, stood up, and offered his hand.

"Well... you cheered me up. Least I can do is get them back for you."

Enid took his hand, and with a gentle but sure yank, he pulled her up. She faltered a little on the downhill slope, and he steadied her by the shoulders.

He let go the second she tensed.

"So. Which house was it?" he asked, lifting his chin and pointing. "That one?... or that one?"

"That one," she signaled—to Carol and Maggie’s house.

They walked up to the door, and Carl rasped his fingers lightly against it. Carol opened from the other side.

"Good morning," he greeted.

"Carl, what a surprise," said Carol. Her eyes shifted to Enid, and a knowing smile painted her face. "Looking for Beth?"

"No, actually. Could I get inside for a while?" he asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. "We left something hidden here—comics. We want to get them back."

"Yes, of course. Come on in," she said, leaving the door open. "I made cookies. Want one? They're hazelnut."

Each cookie was massive. They both took one, and Carl took a small bite.

Shit. He hummed. "They’re really good."

She smiled. "If you want more, they’re here on the counter."

"Great. Thanks," he said, turning to the stairs.

"Thank you," Enid said in a small voice, following Carl.

"Where are they?"

"The attic," she replied from behind him.

~*~

There was a loud bang of wood, and Carl startled awake.

After they'd reached the attic, they’d found a good deal of comics—some he liked, most just new issues of the ones he used to read at the prison. He’d thrown himself into them with enthusiasm. He’d even forgotten about his argument with Eleanor.

And so, he’d fallen asleep.

Rather awkwardly, too. His neck flared with pain as he groaned, twisted, and rubbed at it, blinking as his vision adjusted.

Across the attic, Enid was still sitting. She was now looking up at someone standing above her—someone in black jeans and a jacket.

Ron.

He seemed to be angrily whispering something to her.

Carl remembered Eleanor’s words:

I met Jessie’s husband. And he might be a big jerk.

“Holy shit,” Carl said aloud, cutting into the argument and breaking the tension. He stretched with a groan, putting on a whole show of waking up—almost like Eleanor did whenever she was up too early.

“How long was I asleep?... Hi, Ron,” he added, wincing slightly in pain.

“Why are you here with Enid?” he asked next—his tone maybe a little too sharp.

Really? Carl wanted to roll his eyes at himself. How bland. How cringe. Ugh. He’d already suspected these two were a thing, but this? This was ridiculous.

“We crossed paths at the park,” Carl replied flatly. “Enid wanted to pick up her comics from the attic.”

Carl yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t sleep well last night. Must’ve dozed off. What time is it?”

“Two in the afternoon,” Enid answered.

“Fucking shit,” Carl muttered to himself, humming under his breath as he rubbed his face. “My dad’s gonna kill me.”

He stood up, casting a quick glance at Ron. The wind was out of his sails, but the attitude was still there.

“I’m going,” he said, dusting off his pants. “Sorry, Enid. Didn’t even offer to help you bring the comics to your place.”

“Actually, they could stay here,” she said. “This place is big enough for everyone to hang out… and the cookies are good.”

Carl stepped forward, offering her a hand to stand, but Ron did the same.

“That’s a good idea,” Ron said, his voice still edged with irritation. “Just tell us next time.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Carl muttered, patting Ron’s shoulder as he passed him.

“We should get going too. Before everyone else takes their share of the run.”

Carl froze.

“Isn’t Olivia in charge of that?” Enid asked, confused.

“Nah, there’s a ton of stuff,” Ron said with a shrug. “Not just food. It’s almost Christmas. Come on.”

Carl huffed in disbelief and ran past them, straight to the street.

Eleanor was already back.

He reached the perimeter of the house, vaulted the porch rail, and stood in the middle of the road. Down the block, he saw an old van, surrounded by people.

From within the small crowd, Michonne and Glenn emerged carrying two boxes. Behind them—Eleanor.

Carl barely registered Ron and Enid walking past him. Ron was holding her hand. Enid gave Carl a final glance.

He gave a faint wave, but his eyes were fixed ahead.

Soon enough, chocolate-brown eyes met blue ones.

Eleanor smiled.

And the pit of anger ignited in his stomach once again.

Carl turned around and walked back into the house without another word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eleanor let out a weary sigh and gave a subtle shake of her head.

“You’re not going after him?” asked Michonne.

“Nope,” Eleanor replied, popping her lips.

“He’s misunderstanding everything,” Michonne said, raising her eyebrows in warning.

“Let him,” Eleanor answered with another sigh.

“Geez, I can’t see it. Who would want you as a girlfriend?” Glenn muttered with a grimace.

Eleanor raised her eyebrows.

“Maggie’s more tame than me? My, I’m flattered, Glenn,” she replied with thick sarcasm.

Michonne shook her head, and they resumed walking.

Yesterday, after returning from Dianna’s house, Eleanor had explained everything—her relationship with Carl, her idea to gain control of the runs, and some of Dianna’s ground rules.

Some, because the fact that Dianna was trying to manipulate her—using Carl and their relationship’s visibility in the community—was a battle Eleanor had decided to fight alone. She wasn’t about to give them the one piece of information she most wanted to keep from Carl, only for him to hear it by accident.

She’d offered a tame version instead: that despite how she and Carl felt about each other, Dianna might change her mind down the line and use that knowledge against them. So they would keep it on standby.

What gave Eleanor strength—what truly warmed her heart—was that everyone had accepted their love for each other. Even Abraham, who had whispered a “I knew it” to Rosita, who just rolled her eyes. Gabriel hadn’t been there, nor Carol. She imagined one would be on board… and the other might be ready to burn her at the stake.

Glenn had promised no one would tell Father Gabriel—yet—nor Eugene. Those were the weak links.

Yes, that support gave her the resolve to keep the deal secret, no matter if Carl thrashed, complained, or gave her the cold shoulder. And now, some felt entitled to comment on her decisions—like Glenn or Michonne.

That was all right. Families were like that… after all.

Rick opened the front door and, upon seeing them, raised his eyebrows.

“Now everything makes sense,” he muttered, stepping aside to let them in.

“Why? What did he do?” Michonne asked with a touch of mischief.

“He slammed the door at me,” Rick straightened. “What do I have to do with any of this?”

“Wow,” Eleanor said with a mirthless cackle. “You know what? I’ve heard enough. This is for us—clothes, blankets for Judith, some sweet stuff. I’m gonna catch a nap.”

She pulled out a brown aviator-style jacket, genuine wool fur inside, and a packet of comics.

“You didn’t see this.”

“Sure,” Michonne said with a grin, and the others started filtering in behind them.

Earlier, Eleanor had gone out with Tyreese and Sasha, who were still stationed at the armory. Daryl too, who said he’d be out hunting for a while. And, of course... Glenn.

The place they found was a small convenience store—not many walkers, and not too far away.

That alone told Eleanor that Aiden had been bluffing his way through everything. If he hadn’t found this little piece of heaven before, it was only because he sucked at runs. And now… now he was exposed.

Good riddance.

She entered her room and opened a drawer, looking for a well-hidden place. She turned the jacket inside out to protect the leather and placed the comics over it. Then she shifted some clothes around—specifically her underwear. Not even Satan would dare look in there. Satisfied, she closed it with self-sufficiency.

She was untying her boots when she heard the soft creak of a door across from her.

She looked up.

Between a narrow slit in the concealed door, she saw one light blue eye.

Glaring daggers at her.

She ignored it.

Instead, she turned around, twisting the blanket corners around herself, careful not to get into bed and soil the sheets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Carl closed the door behind him and started pacing.

He was expecting Eleanor to come back and nap. After all, getting up at five was almost a capital crime to her—and she had done it twice this week. He knew he had this one chance to confront her.

But the moment he saw her taking off her shoes, he got cold feet.

He let himself fall unceremoniously onto his bed, rubbing his face. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Scared? Him?

He stood up again and opened the door.

She was already asleep.

Carl looked around. He had seen her hide something—he was sure of it.

What was it?

Why didn’t he get to know?

He walked over to her drawers and began opening them one by one. Nothing. No guns, no medicine.

He reached the drawer with her undergarments and immediately blushed. He could hear his mother screaming bloody murder in the back of his head. He shut it right after.

He was well raised. He still had dignity.

Either way, it had to be something stupid.

He turned to Eleanor instead, suspicion filling his eyes.
Was she really sleeping?

He crept closer and leaned in, resting his forehead near her mouth.

Her breathing was slow, even, and feeble. He could hear her mumbling faintly under her breath. She was out cold.

That realization loosened something in him. He sat beside her, letting his head fall onto the bed next to hers, his body awkwardly slumped against the frame. Her features were placid. Serene.

Like a doll. Like an angel in those church statues.
Perfect. Holy. Beautiful.

Holy... He frowned.

Lying. Scheming. Hurting him. Abandoning him.
She was a devil, not an angel.

He’d been fooled once, not twice. She didn’t care that he felt like this. How could she sleep so soundly when he hadn’t slept all night?

Maybe he should rummage through that last drawer. Maybe she’d hidden it there, knowing he wouldn’t dare check.

But he was getting awfully tired of being read and assumed. She didn’t know half a thing about him.

He should stand. Make a ruckus. Get what she hid. Rattle the door. Wake her up.

Instead, his body moved closer. Now the soft warmth of her breath brushed against his face fully. His eyes began to close, despite the fact he’d slept all morning.

No. He couldn’t fall asleep like this.

His eyes drifted to her lips—and tears welled in them again.

Not even an “I’m back” kiss.
Why was he even fighting?

Footsteps on the stairs pulled him out of his thoughts. He stood quickly and slipped out to his room. Rubbing his eyes, he sniffed and flopped over his bed, sprawled out, staring at the ceiling.

His father knocked once, then entered.

“Carl,” Rick mumbled, “supper.”

“Coming,” Carl mumbled back.

“Now,” Rick groaned, closing the door behind him.

Carl stood with a sigh, and Rick didn’t leave until he followed.

“Is Eleanor sleeping?” Rick asked.

Carl frowned. “How should I know?” he shrugged.

Rick moved as if to knock on her door, and Carl tensed.

No. She was sleeping soundly.

Don’t wake her. Please.

But the sheriff stopped before knocking. He waved his hand dismissively and continued down the stairs.

“I was just thinking—you forgot she said she’d take a nap,” Michonne said from the table as she served the plates.

Rick hummed, a grimace of mild admonishment crossing his face as he sat beside Judith.

“How was your day?” he gruffed flatly.

Carl didn’t answer.

He looked up. Both Michonne and his dad were staring at him.

Oh... okay.

“I met with Enid. Turns out she had a stash of comics hidden away in the attic of the other house. We read comics until now... well,” he corrected himself, “she did. I fell asleep halfway through it.”

Michonne huffed, amused, and Rick nodded.

“So, you’ll catch up with the classes this afternoon?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Carl replied.

They were eating… pasta.
Joy.
Pasta in the woods, pasta in Alexandria—
Pasta, pasta, pasta.

“You’ve made friends with the Anderson kids like you promised?” his father asked again, gruff.

Carl knew better than to react, even as he physically fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yeah... well, I don’t see Sam much. He goes in and out of his room, and when I take the basic courses, he doesn’t address me… particularly. But Ron... yeah, sure.”

He nodded. “The other day we played Counter Strike. He has another friend—Mike—and… Enid,” he added. “Whom I found today. They were at the party, Dad. The guy with the black jacket? That’s Ron.”

His father hummed, eating his food like a starved man.

“Where are the others? They already eat?” Carl asked.

“Some did. Sasha and Tyreese haven’t returned yet,” Michonne replied. “Carol sent some hazelnut cookies.”

Rick perked up. “Really?”

“And...” Michonne smirked. “With this, they’ll taste heavenly.”

She pulled out a can of evaporated milk.

Real cow milk.

Carl almost dropped his fork. His mouth watered.

“Eleanor got that?” Rick asked.

“And much more,” Michonne said. “She shared some with Olivia but made sure we got the better share. For a first run, it isn’t half bad.”

Carl’s mood soured instantly.

He wasn’t going to touch that milk.
Even if they begged him.

"Where did they go? Did she tell you?" Rick insisted.

Despite himself, Carl listened attentively.

"She said there was a small supermarket not far from here. Five walkers... nothing fancy. Let’s say... thirty miles?" She smirked. "But well, I guess if Aiden and Co. combed fifty-three miles like he said, they were blind not to have found it."

His father shook his head disapprovingly and didn’t comment further.

Carl blinked. Were they serious? How had he managed not to find it? Was he mental? And it was so fucking easy to secure, too. What a fucking liar... and lousy on top of that.

No wonder Eleanor thought she had a shot. And more—no wonder she needed to take that shot. Aiden was fucking useless.

Aiden must be butthurt. And Dianna along with him.

Carl slowly swallowed his food, each bite feeling like rocks in his mouth. No. He refused. He wasn’t going to admit she was right. He’d rather die and turn now.

“I’m done,” he declared, though only a little remained. “I’m going to the Andersons now.”

His father grunted in approval and took a sip of water. “It’s winter. Don’t forget your jacket.”

Carl turned to climb up the stairs, just catching the moment Michonne swatted his father's arm. He snickered. What? Did she want his plate or something?

Carl reached the dark corridor, and as he passed Eleanor’s door, he wondered if she was still asleep. He entered his room, grabbed a jacket, and was about to head out—

Until he saw the hidden door.

His heart raced. With a sigh, he walked over and peeked inside.

His eyes widened.

She was tossing and turning. He stepped in farther.

She was having a nightmare.

Eleanor twitched. Her brows furrowed. Her eyes danced beneath her lids. Her expression was distraught. As Carl approached, he noticed some tears had already fallen.

His heart didn’t just squeeze—it bled open. His own eyes welled, almost in response to hers.

He knelt beside her, and his hand tentatively reached for her hair. He ran his fingers through the waves and let his lips rest against the nape of her neck.

He shushed her—slowly, softly—knowing it would pass. It had happened before. And he had managed to calm her then, too.

As expected, she stopped jostling.

Carl pressed a small kiss to her forehead, then gently wiped the tears from her visible cheek with the back of his hand.

Then he stood, closed the secret door, and put on his jacket. He sighed again—as if his soul slipped away with each breath—and walked out.

He said his goodbyes to his father and the others, then walked down the street, the sun already setting.

Idly, he thought:

If they weren’t fighting… Eleanor wouldn’t be having nightmares.

Eleanor didn’t go on another run until after New Year.

They celebrated his birthday—for once—with a cake. With candles.

What he had always dreamed of.

He found, on his bed, a leather jacket—absolutely beautiful—and a stash of comics, brand new. A special collection.

And a note that read:

Always remember I love you

Just like the previous one, he ate it up—and went to sleep.

The next morning, Eleanor was gone once again.

The ire in his stomach turned into a dull twist, one that settled every time she returned. Triumphant. Beloved. Uninjured.

By her second run, he reached out to Abraham— And struck a deal he couldn’t resist.

Chapter Text

Enid looked into the distance, her face unreadable, but her brown eyes danced as she weighed different ideas in her head.

Should she look for Carl? Where was he this time?

It wasn’t like her to search for someone insistently. In fact, she wouldn’t even go looking for Ron or Mike on the best of days. So why was she looking for him now?

Well... because he was inconsistent. Annoyingly inconsistent.

At first, he was easy to find—taking his sister on strolls, talking to Ron’s mother, engaging with his group (which was fairly large), and even chatting with some Alexandrians outside of it.

But after New Year’s, something had changed.

That morning, he was just like he’d been three weeks ago. Ridiculously depressed, staring into the distance like a lost puppy. The first time, she’d only wanted her comics. The second time it happened, she just sat beside him in silence. After what felt like fifteen minutes, he turned to her, smiled, and thanked her for the company. Then he asked if she wanted to do something fun.

They threw rocks at the fence, seeing who could get them over the top, until that large military guy from his group chased them away.

Enid had noticed something: the constant was the runs. Carl suffered every time his group went out.

Which was completely fair.

Their group was large. Unlike her—who wasn’t asked for much in exchange for staying in the community—they had to earn their keep. They took up space and resources. They had to pay it forward.

That’s why she hated large groups in the first place.

And that’s also when annoying Carl began to be annoyingly inconsistent, because he over-worried about his group all the time. And yet, when Ron or Mike asked questions about the outside—about walkers and such—he answered offhandedly, like it was just… normal.

So why was he so bloody worried then?

She remembered one day when they dared Carl to climb a tree outside the settlement. She thought he wouldn’t do it. Not because he was scared—but because he was a stickler for the rules. Ron and Mike didn’t believe he actually followed them, so they baited him.

Not only did he climb the tree and tie the little red kerchief they gave him—he went higher than the dare. And when he climbed back into Alexandria, he brought a walker’s ear.

She stayed far away from the thing but couldn’t help laughing when Ron squealed after realizing what it was.

Her humor was dry. Carl’s humor was dark.

Which also made no sense, because he was truly kind. Gentle. With her. With Sam. With Jessie. Even with Mike and Ron, when they weren’t being asses about it. It made no sense.

Just as little sense as the fact that he wasn’t even inside the settlement right now.

Carl—the stickler for rules—had snuck out.

Why? For what?

She snuck out all the time. But him? Why would he need that? To remind himself of what was out there? Plausible. She could get that. But somehow… that wasn’t Carl.

Whatever Carl even is.

So now, here she was, climbing the fence in broad daylight, expecting to find him close by.

She heard rustling a few steps into the woods. See, she was right. Whatever he had to do out here, it had to be something stupid.

The rustling turned into grunts. A walker.

Enid stood alert—but not panicked. Her little expedition was over. If Carl was out here, he was already dead. And despite everything, she wasn't going to risk herself just for him.

She looked around and found a hollow tree trunk. She hid inside.

More rustles. Then she caught a glimpse of his sheriff hat.

Carl was there.

For a moment, she faltered. He was walking right into the walker. Maybe if she picked up a rock or made some noise, the walker would move away before it reached him.

But before she could react, Carl shoved the walker against a tree and pierced its skull in one swift motion with a large... large hunting blade. Like a pin or a stapler, the blade stayed lodged into the tree trunk. The walker stopped moving.

And instead of pulling the blade back out, Carl stepped away and pulled out a gun—with some weird extension at the end. It looked almost like the end of a metal bat, twisted and warped where it connected to the muzzle of the gun.

What. In. The. Hell.

Without missing a beat, he aimed at the corpse.

Enid covered her ears, expecting the shot to ring out. But when he fired—no sound came. He fired again. Same effect. Silent.

He nodded to himself, detached the strange extension from the handgun, then pulled out another. This one looked like just a simple metal tube. He pointed again—

Then stopped.

And turned.

Now pointing directly at her.

She froze.

She trembled.

“Show yourself,” he said.

Enid stayed rooted in place. She’d just told herself Carl was gentle and kind, funny and soft.

But that voice—cold, commanding—terrified her.

“I said come the fuck out, or I’ll reach forward,” he added, still menacing.

She was going to get shot if she didn’t move. Maybe she could distract him and run. Slowly, her heart thundering in her chest, she stepped out.

At the sight of her, Carl straightened. His face shifted—bewilderment.

“Enid?” he said, confused. He let the weapon fall.

He shook his head, frowning, disoriented. “What are you doing here?”

“What… are you doing here?” she tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice cracked.

Carl noticed. He sighed, turning to set the gun on a tree trunk.

It was her chance. She bolted.

“Enid!” she heard him shout behind her. But she didn’t stop.

She couldn’t. If he caught her, she’d be killed.

It had all been a lie. He was dangerous. She knew it. She should have known.

She stopped and looked around. She thought she’d lost him—until she heard his voice calling again.

Shit.

He was on her trail.

So she hid again, ducking into another hollow tree trunk. She heard rustling. Then panting.

“Enid,” he called, sounding out of breath. “Please, wait. I… I won’t hurt you. Just…”

He panted again.

“Let me explain.”

She said nothing.

“I know you’re hiding. And I know where you’re hiding. Please. I can’t run anymore... and it’s dangerous out here. We could get lost. Or attacked.”

She looked around.

She couldn’t see the walls of Alexandria.

And for a moment—panic.

She wasn’t even sure where she was.

Should she take the offer?

“Drop your weapons,” she called from inside the tree.

“Fine, okay,” he said, more composed now.

After a moment, she heard the rustle of something falling near the base of her hiding place. It caught a glint of light—a blade.

“That isn’t it.”

“That is it. I left the gun and the silencers back at the tree trunk. With my favorite blade.”

He paused.

“And I’m worried I might not find them again. Please, Enid. I swear... this has a logical explanation.”

Enid took a deep breath before getting out of the tree trunk. 

Carl had his hands raised. He was slightly hunched, as if trying to convey peace—or gentleness. 

Not again. She wouldn’t be fooled twice. 

Without taking her eyes off him, she crouched and tapped for the blade. A small pocketknife. She waved it and tucked it into her jeans. 

Carl nodded, lowering his arms. “Yeah, you can have it. Can we go now?” He turned to look behind him. 

Enid didn’t move. 

“Okay. I yield. Just... don’t tell anyone about this. My father won’t understand until he sees the work, so just...” He sighed, squaring his jaw. “If you don’t want to follow me, just return to Alexandria. It’s that way. Straight.” He pointed slightly to the right. “Don’t stay out here. It’s dangerous.” 

“You’re here,” she commented. 

He raised his eyebrows. “Well... I know how to handle myself in the woods.” 

“What makes you think I don’t?” she asked, now gaining more confidence. 

Carl frowned, shook his head, and pointed forward. “This? Running away, hiding, not knowing where you’re going—fine.” He stopped, placing his hands on his hips. “I have to return. Follow me or not. You know the way back now.” 

He turned and briskly walked away. 

Enid stayed a moment longer. Then, with a sneer, she followed. He didn’t kill her—and he could have. Why? Was she supposed to expect he could be dangerous and not dangerous at the same time? Of course not. She wasn’t stupid. 

She should go back. 

But she also wanted to understand. If this was the Carl she knew, and still a new Carl, she had to understand—once and for all—what was real and what was fake. 

They arrived back at the tree trunk. She noticed the handgun, a small sack with a couple more tubes, and the walker—still pinned with Carl’s blade. He didn’t mind her as he counted the tubes inside. She approached the walker to inspect the blade. 

It was... that Rambo type of blade she’d only ever seen in movies. But what intrigued her more was the intricate detail on the handle. It looked like lacquered wood, deep green, and over-carved with white vines and motifs of does and stags. She wasn’t sure if it was bone, stone, or wood, but it was a beautiful cream color. 

Okay. Now she understood why it was his favorite. 

“Step back,” he asked. She moved away with a slight startle. Carl dislodged the blade from the trunk, and the corpse fell down. He used the walker’s clothes to clean the blade and then sheathed it. The sheath had the same carved motifs. 

“It’s pretty,” she conceded. 

Carl looked at her and gave a little smile. “Thanks.” 

“Where’d you get it?” 

“It was a present,” he said, patting the hilt. “Custom-made, too.” 

Enid nodded. “Will you explain now?” 

“All right,” he said, closing the bag and letting it fall to his side. He sat on the tree trunk. “I’m making silencers.” 

She blinked. 

“The tubes you saw attached to the weapons,” he elaborated. “In the armory, there were only four, and they’re used on the sentry posts... obviously. We don’t use firearms often because they make a lot of noise. But with blades, you have to get close, and that can be dangerous... especially when there’s a lot surrounding you.” 

His voice softened until he looked down. 

That same look—saddened, lost, worried. 

Enid huffed. He was doing all of this... for them. 

“This is for the people on the runs,” she said finally. Carl nodded, offering a strained smile. 

Instead of feeling relieved, she felt... annoyed. 

“Why did you point your gun at me?” 

Carl turned his head, frowning. “Because... I heard a rustle?” He shook his head, looking dumbfounded. 

“Walkers don’t answer.” 

“I wasn’t expecting a walker,” Carl clarified. “Walkers are literally only half the problems out here. No one of mine would sneak up on me like that and risk a bullet. So this... was a stranger.” He lifted his eyebrows. “It’s what you’re supposed to do, Enid. It’s what’s safe.” 

“And what would you have done if I were a ‘stranger’?” she stressed, even using air quotes. 

Carl let out a long sigh, his face serious. “What do you think?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Let’s go back. I explained. And I finished. Come on.” He stood. 

She didn’t move. 

“I thought you wanted to return to the settlement, Enid,” he said, turning around. 

“Why don’t you finish testing the others?” 

He turned back to her. His expression was neutral—not particularly kind, not particularly cold. It almost looked... resigned. 

So... this was Carl. In reality. 

She shifted her weight to one leg. “I don’t mind. Test them all,” she said, grasping her backpack. 

Carl frowned, looked up, blinked, then huffed a quiet laugh. “You’ll come with?” 

“Yeah...” she said, cheekily. “I already know your secret.” 

He snickered again and shook his head. He sighed and turned—away from the direction of the settlement. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Searching for a walker,” he answered. “I need another bullseye.” 

“Why don’t you just lift the one you had on the trunk?” 

“It’s too heavy. And it’s rotten—it was going to give out anyway. And with a second blade wedge? Yuck,” he said flatly. 

“You don’t fear them,” Enid commented. 

“They’re not to be... feared,” he said, then stopped. Enid stood beside him. Not too far away, another walker wandered. “They don’t even know what they’re doing. They’re dead people, whose brains restarted... Besides, they were someone. To somebody. Sometime.” 

He paused. “You have to be careful not to get attacked or bitten. But they’re not to be hated, resented, or demonized. They’re just... bodies.” 

Enid turned to him. Her heart raced. She asked before she could stop herself: 

“What happened to you?” 

He turned to her again. His gaze was serene. Now she understood why she couldn’t reconcile the way he was. He was both. Because he wasn’t afraid. Not of the walkers. Not of loneliness. Not of himself. 

His eyes were clear. Blue as the bluest sky. Clear as water. He wasn’t lying. Maybe... he was the only person she knew for certain had no interest in lies. 

“A lot,” he said in a whisper. 

He fixed his hat and moved forward to swiftly immobilize another walker. 

Enid took the small sack of silencers and followed close behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eleanor let out an exhausted sigh as she sat on her bed. Winter was giving way to spring, and now there was a soft blue light of dawn that at least allowed her to look around without crashing into everything.

She wasn’t sure what was easier: waking at 5 a.m. twice a month, or waking every single day at 5 so that her body couldn’t tell the difference.

Rubbing her face, she stood, silently changed, and then grabbed her boots in her hand as she tiptoed to open a secret door.

She smiled as she noticed—he was sleeping. Truly sleeping.

The first time she left this way, she almost couldn’t bring herself to do it. He was awake and trying desperately to appear asleep. So she kissed him goodbye and left a note in his place.

She’d left a note ever since.

The second time, it was even harder. She was leaving right after his birthday—a birthday during which he didn’t speak a word to her. But he didn’t throw her presents in the trash, either. She’d silently feared he would, out of resentment.

Resentment was a shadow that loomed over her—almost as strong as her conscience—every waking moment. Every second she kept this silence.

But as soon as she saw her actions take effect—and the effect she wanted—she pulled strength out of thin air and kept pushing forward.

The third time she left, he was finally sleeping soundly. He was still avoiding her, still not talking to her. But, heavens, he wasn’t sulking either. He was engaging. Maybe more consciously so. She doubled down on her resolve.

Now, it was three months into the year. The fourth time she did this. And she wagered, more would come.

Sprawled like a stepped-on frog, he had half-kicked his covers to the side, one leg finding some cold wind while the rest of him was awkwardly tucked under.

She moved to leave the same note she always left, then tucked him in more evenly. She gave a kiss to his temple, and she walked out.

For a moment, Eleanor rested her eyes on the trashcan beside his bed. Well... at least the notes weren’t there. She opened the drawer in his nightstand. Empty. She slowly closed it back up, frowning, and walked to her room and then the bathroom.

What was he doing with those paper notes? Where was he putting them?

She walked downstairs, rubbing her eyes again, and to her surprise, there was a soft lamp light on—and Rick Grimes, Constable, serving her a cup of warm milk.

“Morning,” she whispered with a smile. “Thank you, truly.”

“The others are already waiting. Don’t take long,” he said with that gruff tone of his. Eleanor smiled and took a sip.

Ah... it was the best.

“This is unusual. Welcomed—wholeheartedly—my heart is warming up,” she confessed. He huffed, shaking his head.

“But I wonder... has there been a development? Has Dianna reached out to Carl yet?”

“No. Not yet,” he said, and Eleanor nodded.

Rick might be the only one who truly knew how much Dianna was asking of her… all for Aiden to return.

“How has he been faring?” she pressed on.

“He’s... come around,” Rick said, pulling out a small satchel. Eleanor blinked and opened the bag to find silencers. Many of them. She frowned and sifted through—at least seven.

“Where did you get this?” Eleanor asked, concerned, surprised, and a little alarmed.

“He made them,” Rick said, his voice filled with pride.

“Carl... made them?” she asked again.

“For you,” he added. “Abraham’s been helping him. He gave them to me... said Carl didn’t want you to know, but... I think you should.”

She sniffed, and Rick said nothing as she wiped the unexpected tears that fell before she could stop them. Instead, the sheriff walked around the counter and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I know what you’re doing. Carl’s matured—in a world where society wasn’t dangerous. But here… here he needs to learn.” He squeezed her shoulder with care and gave it a little shake. “I knew he’d push back if it came from me. And you took the high road in my place... you always do.”

She turned and hugged him. Rick returned the hug and patted her back.

“Just... don’t take it too far,” he whispered. “Or you might regret it.”

She huffed. “I’ll take it as far as it needs to be,” she said, waving the bag in her hands. “I’ll be okay.”

“Who are you taking with you today?” he asked, changing the subject as they both opened the door.

Eleanor took a deep breath and wiped her face again. “Aiden. Second round.”

“Has he been behaving?” Rick added with a gruff as they walked down the road.

“He’s done better than behaving,” she said. “Well... he’s been humbled. The first time I took him, he was fumbling. He hesitated, he complained... but he came around. At least he can come around when he realizes he was in the wrong.”

She sighed.

“But he can’t help himself when he opens his mouth. Really, if I could staple it shut, I’d be the happiest woman in the world.”

Rick laughed under his breath.

“And Nicholas?”

“I haven’t taken him yet,” she admitted, unsure. “Maybe next time. After all, Dianna more or less wants Aiden to take over again—not Nicholas. And soon. So I’ll concentrate my efforts on him.”

“Be careful,” he said as they reached the van. “And bring Judith a bigger diaper size. It’s needed.”

“Don’t you want a potty trainer?” she teased. “It’s high time I get one, don’t you think?”

Rick frowned in distress.

“I’m getting one, you coward. It is time.”

He waved her off as she climbed up into the van. She greeted Daryl, Abraham, Rosita, and Tara. Aiden was at the wheel.

And they drove away.

“We’re going south today,” Eleanor announced, opening the map. “Eighty-three miles. There was a gas stop there. Some other stores… a Home Depot, and a drive-in.”

She turned to Tara. “Did you bring the carriers?”

Tara patted the semi-cylindrical structures beside her. “Three.”

“Perfect,” Eleanor nodded. “We’ll get one methane, one argon, and one oxygen,” she said, opening her satchel.

“What’s that?” asked Daryl.

“Silencers,” Eleanor explained. “Abraham made them. Right, Abraham?”

The man lifted his gaze and looked from left to right.

“Yes,” he conceded with a smirk. “Though I had some help… and to be frank—” he rubbed the back of his neck, “it wasn’t my idea. I can’t take credit for that.”

Eleanor smiled—and immediately tried to will that smile away.

“Was it Eugene?” asked Tara.

Abraham huffed, then snorted. “No,” he said, then clicked his tongue. “But I’ll have to ask if he wants everyone to know yet.”

“Who is this secret engineer… if not Eugene?” Rosita teased, giving Abraham a shove in the shoulder. Clearly, she didn’t believe there was someone else.

Eleanor didn’t comment. Another smile crept up her face as she passed out the silencers.

“Ah—wait. That one is for… this one,” Abraham said, lodging it into her handgun. “It has better balance for automatic guns.”

She smiled brightly now. “Thank you, Abraham. These are magnificent. Truly.”

She saw the man shake off her compliment, but he was clearly pleased all the same. As they drove on, she turned the silencer in her hand, expecting to find a wedge—or something—that gave Carl away.

Pristine.

She huffed under her breath.

~*~ 

She closed the door to her room with a tired sigh.

Eighty-three miles south—the farthest they’d gone. Three hours on the road. Four hours at the stores. Two more hours loading their stuff. And two hours clearing a blockage.

It was six in the evening. She felt too tired to even eat.

Her back hurt. Her feet hurt. Her neck hurt.

Truly, if Carl and Abraham hadn’t made those silencers, they would’ve had to kill the walkers by blade—one by one. She was not going to make it tonight. She was sure.

She flopped onto her bed and half-groaned, half-whined.

This was the end. No more. No more until May.
Eleanor was closed for the season. No more.

She hissed as she stood back up from the bed. She was sweaty. She was grimy. She smelled. And she felt uncomfortable.

She needed a shower—a hot, scalding hot shower. And her bed. She needed to sleep from seven to seven. She swore it on her name.

Lazily, she undressed, put on her towel peignoir, another large towel, her sandals, her pajamas, and some undergarments. Then she strode toward the bathroom.

Carl was coming out of it.

She froze.

He had his gaze down, and she saw him frown at her sandals. His eyes traveled up… up… until they met hers.

He didn’t move either.

Eleanor blinked, eyebrows raising at the realization—he was taller than her. A hand palm taller. She was looking up.

When did that happen?

She blushed and clutched her towel a little tighter.

“Um… hey,” she mumbled.

He didn’t answer for what felt like almost half a minute. Then, as if something struck him, he blinked and stepped aside.

“Here,” he said, opening the door for her.

Eleanor clutched her pajamas tighter too, resisting the shiver that passed through her. So long since he’d spoken to her—and she could almost swear his voice was deeper.

He turned and walked away, and that same shiver ended in a powerful sting that no longer stayed only in her chest.

She said nothing and entered the bathroom, closing it softly behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carl closed the door to his room, then slid down to the floor almost immediately after.

There, knees half-bent, head hunched, he clasped his trembling hands behind his nape. He pressed against the back of his neck for leverage—but it did nothing. So he scratched at his shoulders. He heaved.

He was going insane.

Because they hadn’t shared a single moment alone, not a single word in almost four months.
And now…

Her voice—melodic, breathed, soft, tingling.

For a single moment in time, he had forgotten everything. That he was mad. That he didn’t want to see her. Touch her. Speak to her. Not until she apologized. Not until she explained why.

And yet, he had forgotten—even his own name.

All he could think about was her voice, her lips, her eyes, the soft skin of her neck.

Of course… if that was even considered thinking.

He took a deep breath. Then another. His heart would not stop racing.

He was absurdly pathetic.

The sting that came after soured his heart better than any breath could. Finally, he dislodged his arms and let his head bump softly against the door. His gaze drifted, lost in the darkness of his unlit room.

How long until he broke?

How long until he caved in?

He sighed and rubbed his face.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t until she explained why.

Why.

Because as time passed—as he studied, as he listened, as he worked—he realized.

Not what she said to him. Not what she said to the others.

None of it was the full truth.

What she did. How she decided to say nothing.
It had to mean something.

And it wasn’t just to make him understand her reason. No. It was more.

That’s why he helped. That’s why, despite the pain, he refused to wallow in it.

He had to know. He had to make her cave instead.

He had to resist. Until she no longer could.

He had to.

There better be a reason.

There better be.

Because if he’d read it all wrong—if there wasn’t—

He was sure his heart would break.

“Ah!! Ah, shit!”

He tensed.

That shriek—Eleanor.

He stood up in a jump and opened his door.

Darkness.

The lights… a power outage.

His stomach dropped.

For a moment, he thought he was back in Atlanta.

Chapter Text

"Eleanor," Carl rasped at the bathroom door. "Are you okay?"

He waited. From the other side, he heard a muffled voice.

"Yes, but it's pitch dark. And the water turned cold. Is it a power-down?"

"Yes," he called back, then added under his breath, "Yeah, it is."
He bumped his head softly against the door.

Eleanor would be freezing in there.
She had no light.
And he had a flashlight.

He turned toward the stairs. "Michonne!" he called out.

"Carl?" came her voice. "Where are you?"

"Upstairs!" he answered. "Can you come here?"

"No, I have no light! And I can’t—"

A cascade of plastic clattering to the floor made him flinch. "A fucking light!" she cursed under her breath.

"I’ll get you a flashlight—stay still," he said, turning back to the bathroom.

"I’m going to open the door," he announced.

"What!?" came the panicked, outraged, borderline offended voice from the other side.

He rolled his eyes and cracked the door open just a little.

"Wait!! Wait! Carl!" she whispered urgently.

"I’m not coming in, okay? I’m just rolling a flashlight to you. Do you see my hand?" He clicked the flashlight on and waved it through the gap.

"Oh! Yes! Throw it—I can reach it," she said, voice now more subdued.

He let out a tired sigh and slid the flashlight across the floor.

Its path curved, but he saw the reflection shift suddenly. She had caught it. He closed the door again and went to his room. Tapping the walls, he found his closet and opened the first drawer. He grabbed a flare, cracked it, and a soft green light bloomed.

Well...
He never thought he’d be using that so soon.

He walked past the stairs and down the hallway. There, he found Michonne approaching the green light.

"Here," he said. "It’s what I’ve got for now."

Another light suddenly joined them. The flashlight. He turned to his right. Eleanor was there, in her pajamas, her damp hair twisted up in a towel. She shivered slightly.

At the sight of her, Michonne flinched.

"Ah, poor thing," she cooed.

Eleanor glared at her—but then sneezed, and any defiance left her expression.

"Get under your covers or you’ll catch a cold," Carl whispered.

She turned to him and blinked.

Yes, he knew. He’d broken his vow of silence.

So what?

It was a blackout.

How were they supposed to organize anything if he didn’t make concessions?

Besides—

That didn’t mean he was going to take her there himself, unwrap that ridiculous towel from her head, and dry her hair exactly the way he knew she liked. It also didn’t mean he was going to slip into her bed, wrap his arms around her, and keep her warm.

This was a hold in the fire. Not a surrender.
He refused.

"I think I’ll just change back into my clothes," she sighed wearily.

She glanced toward Michonne, who was picking up the scattered things and opening the front door.

"This seems to be more than a simple outage. Maybe the conductor of the solar panels gave out. If that’s true, we might be in complete darkness for a while... they’ll need help."

"They don’t need that much help. You just got back. You’re exhausted," he said—fast, even for himself.

She turned to him, face neutral. But he knew that fire in her eyes.

"I have some flashlights in my room," she offered, even-toned.

"Then give them to me," he replied, just as firmly.

She stood there, and just like that, the strange, charged electricity between them dimmed.
In its place returned the same tension that had been circling them for months—
That wordless battle, that stalemate.

"Very well," she conceded, and turned back toward her room.

As soon as she disappeared down the hall, Carl let himself slump back against the wall.
He rubbed his face with both hands.

At least…
At least she didn’t say no.

“Carl!”

Right on cue, his father stepped through the doorframe. Carl strained a smile and lifted his hand.

“Hey, Dad,” he said flatly. Beside the sheriff, Michonne appeared once more.

“Is it the whole settlement?”

“Yes. Abraham is inspecting the damage with Dianna’s husband,” his father explained. “Call for the others and close the doors. The heating system’s down—we’ll spend a cold night tonight.”

Carl nodded.

“Where’s Eleanor?” his father asked, and Carl squinted.

Nah. They couldn’t do this. They couldn’t dump this problem on her. She wasn’t even on that set of responsibilities.

“She’s resting,” he clarified as his father climbed the stairs. “She arrived not too long ago. Skipped dinner. She’s asleep.”

His father stopped to assess him.

“How do you know? Did you talk?” he gruffed.

“Yeah,” Carl barely conceded. After a moment too long, he nodded.

“Go to sleep. Double pajamas. And if you can, check all the windows are closed.” He moved to pull down the attic chain. “I’ll check if there’s more covers up there.”

“We could always burn some furniture,” Carl suggested.

His father gave him such a withering look that Carl snorted.

“Just kidding,” he added, hands raised.

“Get to it… Carl,” his father said with a sigh, and climbed up.

With a roll of his eyes, Carl turned to check the windows.

He couldn’t blame his dad—or his anxiety. They had just come out of winter, and winter in Virginia was a fucking nightmare. It snowed. It was bitter cold. Colder than back home, he thought. Absolutely insane.If they hadn’t found Alexandria before winter—if not for the electric heaters and the house-wide heating systems—out here in Washington they would've frozen to death in the open.

Which… was still a problem.
Because if there was no power to heat the houses, it was barely better than sleeping outside.

He changed into pajamas. Then, debating whether to sleep in a pullover too, he turned toward the secret door behind the hanger.

Eleanor had always run cold—even in summer—so now... she must be freezing.

As he thought it, he heard a sneeze. Then another. Then an unceremonious sniff.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then grabbed one of his blankets and opened the hidden door.

She was sitting on her bed, still drying her hair. At the sound and movement, she turned toward him and switched on the flashlight.

There were already six beside her.

“I thought…” she began, but went quiet once Carl dropped the extra blanket over her shoulders.

Then he picked up the flashlights and dumped them onto his own bed.

“Um…” she tried again, but he paid her no mind as he sat beside her and took the towel from her hands. It was completely soaked.

So he picked up a fresh one and started drying her hair in silence.

She didn’t say another word. Not a single comment. And yet, she didn’t chase him out either.

Carl gave a little smile, knowing she couldn’t see it.

He lifted the covers and gave her a silent, yet commanding look. Without a word, Eleanor scooted and slid beneath them. He gently moved her damp hair away from the back of her neck and paused—just for a moment. Then he lifted the covers and got in beside her.

“Carl, w-what…?” she whispered in surprise.

Yeah… he wondered that too. He’d said he wouldn’t do this.

But she was freezing.

Just this once.

This was still a hold of fire—not surrender.

“Sh,” he snapped softly, then pulled her against him.

He shivered. She was cold. Freezing cold.
Reluctantly, she wrapped her arms around him.

They stayed like that for several minutes. Both tense. Both trying to pull away—
But still holding each other tightly.

"Why."

The word came out of him as a whisper—an afterthought. Or maybe it slipped from his mind where it had been taking up too much space.

She didn’t answer.

“What you’re doing. What you’ve been doing until now… why?” he whispered. “Back then, you wanted to tell me, and yet… you didn’t insist.”

“You didn’t want to hear it,” she whispered back.

Her hot breath reached his collarbone, sneaked through a small fold in his flannel shirt, and warmed his chest.

“And now?” he pressed, heart starting to beat fast.

“It’s better if I don’t,” she said, clipped and guarded.

“You’re okay with this?” he asked in disbelief. His heart gave a painful squeeze.

“What I’m okay with... is not the point of this,” she shot back and tried to break away from him.

So there was a point. There was a reason.

He held her tighter.

She whined and tried to kick. He looped his leg around hers.

“What is the point? Making me mad?” he asked against her neck.

“Then leave.”

He moved on impulse—caught her lips before she could protest. He sighed into the sensation.

Her lips. Her heat. Her voice.
He couldn’t live without this a second longer.

He turned, deepening the kiss, pushing for access. She gave little slaps to his shoulders, and so he took her wrist, pinning her down.

“Carl,” she breathed once they parted, “stop. Stop,” she said—half plea, half moan.

“Then push me,” he breathed in her scent and bit her neck. “Stop me properly.”

He reached to kiss her again, letting go of one hand when that one fought long enough to be freed.

Then, abruptly, he pulled away with a hiss of pain and a flinch.

She had pinched him. Hard. Between his hip and his butt.

“Enough,” she half-bellowed, half-heaved.

They remained frozen—still only inches away from each other.

“Tell me,” he insisted. He insisted even though he tried desperately not to sound like he was begging.

“You have to see it,” she insisted back, her face pained. “You have to live it.”

He squared his jaw, swallowed the bile in his throat, and pulled away—not to leave, but to lie beside her instead of on top. Under the covers now, it was blazing hot.

“You need to return to your room,” she said after a long pause filled with both their heaving breaths.

“Make me.”

She glared. “You want another pinch?”

“Maybe,” he said, blushing.

She opened her eyes wide, sputtered, and blushed furiously.

His heart ached.

In reality, he needed so little. As small as the truth—a single reason. One word. That’s all it would take for him to obey.

She let out a weary sigh and turned to him. She grabbed his face and kissed his forehead.

His eyes welled with tears, and it was his turn to pull away.
This stalemate, this silence—it was too painful.
He couldn’t do this anymore—

Suddenly, his thoughts stopped.

His. Hers.
They both heard it.

A knock on his room’s door. Then it opened.

“Carl?” his father called.

Both Carl and Eleanor looked at each other in complete panic.

His father called again.

Carl scrambled out from under her covers and slid under the bed.

Then came a knock on Eleanor’s door.

“C-come in,” she said, and Rick opened it. They both heard the click of the power switch and a tired sigh.

Bless.
Bless the Lord for the power outage.

Carl closed his eyes, trying to will his breathing still, resisting a cough from the dust accumulated under the bed.

“Have you seen Carl?” his father asked.

“Um… yeah, he gave a flare to Michonne—”

“No, later,” he cut her off.

Eleanor didn’t answer, but Carl imagined she shook her head as his father sighed again and closed the door behind him.

Carl was about to slide back out when the door opened again.

He tensed.

“Dianna is calling for a meeting tomorrow at five,” his father announced.

“Dianna?” Eleanor asked. “Why me?”

“It seems the power grid capacitor can’t be fixed,” he said with a sigh. “That means she’ll call for an emergency run.”

What?

Carl felt anxiety clawing at him. They couldn’t. She had just arrived.

“She might use this chance,” his father added.

He heard Eleanor sigh. “I’d be surprised if she didn’t. Very well… I’ll rest as much as I can now.”

His father grunted and finally closed the door.

“You can’t go,” Carl whispered as he slid out from under the bed.

Eleanor said nothing. She turned to lie down, giving him her back.

“You’ve just arrived. You’re exhausted. And your party is exhausted. Why would Dianna want this to happen—?”

“Why don’t you ask her.”

His voice had been climbing—soft whispers to angry ones, now a growl on the verge of screaming bloody murder. Yet Eleanor’s answer cut through all of it.

So that was it.
Dianna was the key to this… nonsense.

Yes. It was all a fucking nonsense. All of it. The silence. The power struggle. The battle against Aiden.
He’d had enough. He wouldn’t stand for this.
This was his limit.

He walked over and loomed above Eleanor, planting his arms on either side of her. She gripped the covers tighter, as if they could block him out.

No. That ship had sailed. He wasn’t going to try again.

“I’ll fucking ask her tomorrow,” he whispered, menacing. “But don’t think it’ll solve anything. Don’t think what you’ve done doesn’t have consequences.” He bit the words out. “I tried. I tried… and you couldn’t be sincere. Fucking fine.”

He spat the words, voice cracking.

He pushed up and stepped back from the bed. Walked out of her room and into his own. Grabbed the flashlights.

Then—without really caring whether he was found by his father, got into a fight, or fell down the stairs and broke his neck—he stepped into the corridor.

At the far end, he saw a faint green glow. He used it to guide himself downstairs.

“Carl, where were you?” his father barked.

“Searching for you!” he snapped back, just as annoyed. “Here.”

He shoved the flashlights into Rick’s hands. “Give them away. Whatever. I’m going to sleep.”

He climbed the stairs again, slammed the door shut behind him, and ducked under his covers.

He wiped his eyes. Once. Twice.

Then he hugged his pillows. Punched them a few times. Hugged them again.
And closed his eyes, trying to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eleanor woke at four-thirty. She stretched and rubbed her eyes—then flinched.
She’d cried herself to sleep, and now the corners of her eyes burned. Even touching them was torture.

She exhaled and hugged her legs, trembling.

She had done it.

She’d pushed Carl too far. Finally.
He was done.

One part of her wished to believe it was just his anger speaking. That he didn’t mean it. Maybe it was another tactic to make her cave.
But another part whispered dangerously in her ear:

You wanted him to stand on his own. And now, now he won’t stand beside you.

She sighed again.
This wasn’t the moment to think about that. She needed to pull herself together, because today… was a complicated day. A dangerous day.
A day she couldn’t run away from.

She didn’t have the strength—maybe not even the courage, or the right—to leave a note today. Not to kiss him goodbye.

So she changed. Washed her face a couple of times. Even used makeup to cover the signs of having cried.
Then she walked downstairs.

No one was waiting for her.

Which was no surprise, really. All night—half of which she’d spent crying—she could hear the others shouting instructions, helping people, trying to solve the problems caused by the blackout.
The heaters. The water. The refrigeration system for the meat they'd acquired, thanks to Daryl’s group.
Everyone was tired.

How did they end up doing so much for this community?

She let out a breath as she walked down the street, cold, eyes puffy, and completely alone.
Toward the Monroe house.

She saw a van already prepped. Olivia stood nearby with a tray of guns. Dianna was flanked by Aiden, Spencer, and Nicholas. Tyreese and Eugene were there too.

Of course.
She’d used the oldest trick in the book. Rick had told Eleanor five a.m.—of course Dianna would cite the others for four-thirty. Just enough to leave her too late to be part of any decision-making.

Eleanor held her brisk pace.

“Eleanor, good morning. It seems Rick relayed my message,” Dianna greeted her with a patient smile. “I told him to consider you more. You just returned from a run.”

“Still, it’s my responsibility,” Eleanor replied, smiling wider. “And because of this incident, everyone’s pulling beyond their share to help. I couldn’t be any different.”

“Rick briefed me, but only a little. So—we know where to get this new capacitor. Do we know where to get it?”

“There’s a warehouse in the mall center we visited yesterday,” Aiden explained. “We went briefly, to get the welding gases, but it’s supposed to have everything we need.”

Eleanor nodded. “It’s far. Took us all morning to get there. Will you hold on that long? What about the food?”

“We’ll have to manage,” Dianna said, smile tight. “Although… there was a second possibility Nicholas was telling us about.”

The man in question stepped forward, all worry and seriousness.
This couldn’t be good.

“There’s a smaller warehouse, not for sales,” Nicholas began. “Trucks left goods there for distribution. It’s closer—forty miles west. That’s where we got the supplies for the panel installation the first time.”

“And…?” Eleanor prompted.

“And he could take you there,” Dianna supplied. “It would be a good moment to establish a third run party,” she added, voice laced with that same patient tone.
“Nicholas has been telling me that all this time, he’s been on sentinel duty.”

Really? They were going to use that now?

Eleanor resisted the huff building in her throat.

Rick was right. She was fighting for this chance like her life depended on it.
Because it did. Tyreese and Eugene were going to die out there.

“I’ll take someone else with us,” she insisted.
But her mind didn’t produce good options. Rosita and Abraham weren’t going to move a muscle for Eugene again. Sasha even less. Maggie—no. Then…

“Tara.”

“She’s been there yesterday, and she’s been helping all night,” Aiden cut in with a shake of his head. “Rosita, maybe.”

“No. That is not going to happen,” Eleanor snapped. “Noah, then. He’s old enough.”

“Very well,” said Dianna, turning to Tyreese. He gave one last look to Eleanor, who nodded.
Then he set off to give word to Noah to prepare.

Dianna used the moment to address Aiden and Nicholas.

“Now, out there, it is still Eleanor who sets the rules,” she said to them both. “You’ve been separated to be tested. And until now, everything has gone well. This is the test that things can still go well.”

She nodded slowly. “Understood?”

“We’ll be alright, Mom,” Aiden jumped in quickly.

They climbed into the van, and as it drove off, both Aiden and Nicholas visibly perked up—animated to be together again.
Eleanor turned to the window. The gates of Alexandria closed behind them, and a cold sense of dread settled in her chest.

No. She couldn’t think this would go awry.
She had to be strong. She had to stay alert.
They had to succeed—and she had to return.

She had to.

Chapter Text

Carl looked to his right and flinched. The strong rays of sunlight hit his eyes, and he groaned, turning away.

He moved to rub his eyes—and regretted it instantly. They felt numb, puffy, stinging.

He hadn’t slept all night.

He tossed and turned, thinking about what he did, what he said, what Eleanor said—or rather didn’t say. It was all a blur already. And then, of course, he thought about what he said again.

He no longer cared if Eleanor was doing something for him, by him, with him, against him. He didn’t care if this was because of Alexandria, Dianna, Aiden, Nicholas, or Satan himself. He didn’t even care if there was some kind of light at the end of this nightmare, or a lesson to learn, or some task he was supposed to be doing.

He just wanted to take it all back.

He wanted to be able to open that secret door, sneak into her bed again, and sleep. Forever. He only wanted the chance to say he didn’t mean what he said, what he did... and what he didn’t say.

This dread, this guilt, this pain—it had started burning in his chest the moment he felt movement on the other side of the door and knew Eleanor was leaving for that 5 a.m. meetup. And that she hadn’t left him one more note. Hadn’t given him one more kiss.

At the time, he had been thankful. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if he’d seen her again.
But now... it was all he needed.

He sighed audibly and stood. His whole body screamed in pain. He rubbed his neck and sluggishly moved to change. His father hadn’t even come to wake him. He doubted he was awake.

All night, Carl had heard movement outside. It had been chaos, really.

And he understood—Eleanor couldn’t run away from it. She had to at least show up to that meeting.
He secretly prayed she hadn’t made that emergency run.

He feared she had anyway.

Forgoing any check on her room, he walked to the bathroom—and collided with Michonne.

"Sweet Jesus," she muttered under her breath.

Carl stepped aside, brushing his teeth in a dazed, mechanical motion.

"What in the world happened to you?"

He turned toward the mirror.

His eyes were red, swollen at the edges from rubbing. He looked pale. His hair clung to his face. Dark bags sat under his eyes, and his half-lidded gaze looked... almost dead.

Ironic.

"Did you even sleep?"

"I did," he croaked, then cleared his throat. "But I think the blanket I pulled from the closet had something. My eyes feel itchy."

He moved to rub them again.

"If you know that, then stop," she said, taking his hand and moving it away.
"Maybe it’d be better if you rested a little longer."

"I think what I need is some fresh air and sunlight," he interjected. "Where’s my dad?"

"I don’t know. He left early. When I woke up, the house was silent."

She said it almost nonchalantly, but there was concern behind the words. She composed herself quickly and smiled.
"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Nothing… for now," he said.

She slumped her shoulders.

"Maybe a cereal bar. I don’t know. We can’t make toast. If we open a new can of milk, it’ll go bad. I don’t want anything."

"Okay," she said, suspicious. "But don’t forget that cereal bar."

He nodded, climbed downstairs, and headed to the kitchen. He grabbed a packet and shoved it into his pants pocket.
Then he walked outside.

It all seemed almost pacific. Empty.

Carl looked around and decided to simply sit on the spot he always stayed at—the hill in the park, where he waited for the members of the run to return.

"I knew I'd find you here."

He huffed, and when he turned, Enid visibly flinched.

"Don't," he croaked. "I know I look like shit."

"And I know why." She sat beside him.

A moment of peaceful silence followed.

"So... the silencers didn't work?"

"They did," he croaked again, then raised his eyebrows. "At least for yesterday’s run. This one... I hope they took them."

She frowned. "A run? Today?"

"The blackout yesterday took out an important part of the solar panels. Without it, we'll freeze to death. Most of the food will go bad, the door doesn’t work properly. The welding repairs on the fence are on hold—"

"Yeah, I think I got it," she cut him short.

Carl smirked. "What, I thought everyone knew how much shit we’re in now. But I guess the adults want to keep us kids in the dark."

"But you know about it."

"I eavesdropped on my dad," he shrugged. "He almost never tells."

"What now?" she asked. "This means we can’t play video games. We can read comics, but..." she trailed off.

"But..." he whispered, still gazing into the distance.

"I don't think your eyes will withstand reading," she said with a frown.

He snorted and chuckled, but there was a dangerous tint of bitterness behind it.

"Yeah, well... you’re right," he admitted with a nod.

"Did you cry?" she asked gently. It wasn’t sarcastic—it was genuine. Genuine worry.

"Yeah," he whispered. And despite himself, he huffed—a pathetic sound, but also sincere. Because everything he’d told her up to this point had been little white lies. Him—who actually hated lies.

Enid had been the only sincere thing in this hellish place. She didn’t deserve his aloofness, even less after months of consistently showing up for him—every time he was a mess. She was trying to reach out. And maybe reaching back, just this once, would ease the weight crushing his chest.

"What do you do when you're overwhelmed by... everything?" he asked, finally turning his gaze to her.

She looked down, tearing small pieces of grass from the ground. Then, meeting his eyes again, she whispered, "I run. I sneak into the woods and I run... until I can’t take another step."

He smiled. The prospect of such a thing was tempting. He stood and offered his hand.

"Come on," he said with a faint smile. "Let’s get out of here."

She smiled and moved to take his hand. He pulled her up and was about to joke when he heard it in the distance—what should have been a voice, but came out more like a snarl.

Before he could turn to see what was happening, he was shoved back. He almost tripped.

Ron.

"Do you take me for a fucking idiot?!" Ron bellowed.

Enid huffed, looked up—visibly fed up—and shrugged off Ron’s hand forcefully.

"Enid!" Ron’s voice cracked.

He moved to grab her again, but Carl stepped between them, extending an arm in warning. Enid stood behind him.

"Dude," Carl said with a tired sigh. "Calm down—" But he didn’t get to finish.

Something connected with his jaw, sharp and fast. He stumbled and fell to the ground.

He moved his jaw, feeling the pain bloom. He huffed a dry smile when he tasted blood.

He’d been punched. By Ron.

"Carl!" Enid dropped beside him, but he shook his head.

"Leave, Enid," he whispered.

"But—" she said, cautious and angry.

"Just go. It'll be okay," he insisted.

Enid looked at Ron, eyes burning with silent accusation, then turned to walk away.

To get an adult. Or maybe just to remove herself from this situation. It didn’t matter. As long as she was safe and away, Carl didn’t ask for more.

"Stay away from Enid! Don’t think I haven’t seen—"

"Look, Ron," Carl cut in, lifting a hand and pushing himself upright. He wiped the blood from his lip and exhaled. "This is a very bad day to have this conversation. You don’t want to fight me, okay?"

Bad choice of words.

As Carl turned, still touching his chin, he felt someone yank his shirt.

He barely managed to lift an arm before the second punch landed—on it this time. He took the chance to seize Ron’s arm and twisted it behind his back. Ron thrashed, and Carl shoved him forward. Ron stumbled, falling face-first onto the dirt.

"Leave it, will you?" Carl said, exasperated. "If Enid likes you—and you like her—then what’s the point of this?"

"I won’t fight you, man. I have my own set of problems. None of them have to do with Enid. Or you."

"Is everything okay around here?"

Great. Terrific. Marvelous. Here came Rick Grimes.

Carl rolled his eyes. At the sight of him, his father frowned.

"What happened here?" Rick asked again.

"Nothing. It’s over," Carl said. He turned to leave, but his father stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Concern laced his voice.

"Yeah," Carl said, glaring at him. Rick studied his gaze, then nodded.

"Wash yourself. Dianna’s called for you."

That stopped Carl in his tracks. He turned back toward his dad.

"Dianna? Me? Why?"

"I don’t know. But Carl," his father said quietly, almost hissing under his breath, "you have to be careful with what you say."

Yeah, he’d heard that one before.

He nodded and jogged to the house. As he turned onto the porch, he caught a glimpse of Rick lifting Ron to his feet. They walked off together, Ron trying to pull away from his father’s grip.

Right. Let idiot Ron deal with his idiotic decisions.

Carl entered the house.

~*~

“Carl, good morning. I’m glad you could make it,” Dianna said with a welcoming smile that faltered and morphed into concern. “My... don’t tell me that struggle out there was you.”

Carl entered the house. Even after washing his face, the red spot where he’d been punched still bloomed across his skin, starting to swell.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Carl said, sitting down. “And it didn’t escalate.”

“Yes, I saw that,” the woman replied. She disappeared into another room, only to return with an ice pack—still cool, though not fully frozen—and offered it to him. “And that’s what impressed me the most. I wish my sons ended a fight like you did.”

She sat across from him.

Carl blinked but said nothing. He was tired. He was hurting. And despite the praise, he knew that if he’d been in any other mood—or in a worse situation—the fight might have ended very differently.

“Thank you.” He pressed the ice pack to his chin. “My dad said you wanted to talk to me?”

Dianna folded her hands. A small, knowing smile crept onto her lips.

“When was the last time you came here... last year?”

“Yes. Three months ago, give or take,” he said, moving the ice pack around.

“Wow.” She exhaled softly and let out a light laugh. “You’ve grown so much. And I don’t just mean the height.”

As if she saw him as an adult now? He frowned but schooled it away quickly. What was she getting at?

“It’s been a rough night,” he said instead. Maybe she only said that because he looked ten years older.

“You helped too?” Dianna asked, clearly impressed.

“I hope my flashlights eventually get returned,” he joked. She laughed, but he didn’t mirror her.

“Thank you. They really did help,” Dianna said, shaking her head. “Anyway... that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. But... I guess I’ll just bring it up. Three months ago, I talked to Rick... and Eleanor about you.”

She paused, as if checking if that landed. Carl said nothing, so she continued.

“Did they tell you about that?”

“Yes. They did,” he said immediately.

“Look, I...” she began, then looked down, shaking her head slightly as if trying to rephrase. “It’s not my place to comment on what happens inside your group or your family. I respect that. I only wanted to be sure that what was said back then... was relayed to you. That you’re being treated... fairly.”

No. Of course, not everything had been said to him. But that didn’t mean he was being treated unfairly—unless the information actually concerned him.

“And... you wanted to check what I did know about the matter,” Carl said, smirking.

“That’s right.” She smirked back, but the concern stayed on her face. “Look... I’ll be the first to admit, I misjudged you. When you arrived, I thought you were just another teenager. Honestly, I was put off by Eleanor’s acknowledgment of your... maturity.” She frowned slightly. “But when we talked again, I was genuinely concerned. Because she contradicted herself so openly.”

Contradicted herself? That did sound like Eleanor... but—

“What do you mean?” he asked flatly.

“When we first spoke, she said you should be treated as a person, not as a kid. That you were capable. Probably as capable as the rest of your group,” Dianna explained. “Then, when we talked again, she repeated the same...”

Carl wasn’t sure if he blushed or if the ice pack covered it. Instead, that swelling feeling in his chest—stinging, heavy, tangled with longing—invaded him.

“But when I offered for our community to do the same, she backed away. She said you didn’t need to be out there,” Dianna continued softly.

Carl frowned. That was enough for Dianna to realize Eleanor hadn’t said any of that to him.

“You see...” Dianna played with her hands, visibly uncomfortable. “I know my son’s shortcomings. I know he has to learn. And I worried that his frictions with Eleanor might cloud his judgment. I thought that... since you were capable, and since you were already treated like an adult in your group... we extended that image to our community. That you were a leader. Alongside Eleanor. Of the runs. And that your relationship would be the perfect example—to show that you worked as a unit. And that we should do the same.”

Carl’s eyes widened, and Dianna gave a compassionate smile.

She might think she’s gotten him.

Now Carl could see it.

It didn’t matter what Dianna said. What he heard was what mattered. And what he heard was that Dianna had proposed they sacrifice their relationship—one that was just starting to blossom—for the good of the community.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew the fact that he was younger—ten years younger, nine years and six months really—was reason enough for criticism, for scrutiny, for mockery. They wouldn’t be seen as capable. It wouldn’t matter. She would be seen as a predator, and he... as a groomed boy.

And that would set the stage for Aiden to return even more triumphant. Because their leadership and decisions wouldn’t be judged by their results anymore. Everything would be clouded by them—the fact that they were together.

That’s what would be consumed.

Consumed.

A stepping stone.

A chance for Dianna... to seize what Eleanor had been taking with subtle movements. Power.

I can’t afford any questionable actions that could risk my position. At least not until Aiden can take it back—or—

“She might use this chance.”
“I’d be surprised if she didn’t. Very well… I’ll rest as much as I can now.”

Aiden. So it wasn’t a lie. She really was training Aiden.

“But... she didn’t allow that, did she?” he asked, almost flatly. He made fists of his hands. They were trembling.

“She said you needed rest. That your relationship should remain... private.” Dianna mocked the word. “And that she’ll make sure Aiden is ready to step back into leadership once he’s ready.” She let out a sigh. “I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed. I feared she only said it to keep responsibility for the runs solely to herself. And now my worries have been confirmed.” She frowned. “I wouldn’t trust this information so lightly... but maybe you need to hear it. Eleanor doubled down on going to this emergency run, even while exhausted. She hasn’t trained Nicholas, and she’ll take one of yours again just to prove that point... Tara, I think her name is.”

Dianna paused, watching him carefully.

“I fear she needs a counterbalance. And I fear that counterbalance needs to be present so Aiden doesn’t step up prematurely. Even I have to admit things have been better and Aiden has changed, but that moment hasn’t come yet... and yet, Eleanor is showing signs of not wanting to step down when that moment eventually comes.”

She crossed her hands again. Carl’s heart was hammering.

“I want you to step up. For yourself,” she said softly. “I want to see what you can do. And if you can be the one to help me... to make Eleanor understand. This is a shared effort.”

Carl’s eyes welled with tears again.

If he had been told this three months ago, he would’ve felt wronged. Dejected. Mocked—by Eleanor, and by what she said he could and couldn’t do.

But now.

Now.

This was vile.

This woman didn’t care about him. Or Eleanor. Or even the safety of the runs.

She only cared about Aiden. And about the way to preserve power.

She was playing with them. And since Eleanor didn’t cave, she wanted to use him.

Him.

Because a kid trying to prove his worth would jump at the possibility.

He knew he would’ve jumped at it the second it was proposed.

But now... he couldn’t.

He couldn’t because... he got it.

Not all promises were made with good intentions.
Not all lies sounded bitter. Some were sweeter than the truth.
Some silences were louder than words.

Elle knew this moment would come.

She knew. And she had been withholding the truth, hoping he’d be able to take it in time. She kept him out until she was sure he could take it. She was silent, until she made sure he was capable of confronting that silence on his own. And hopefully... that would give him the strength to confront sweet words with temperance too.

“You have to see it. You have to live it.”

What’s the point? Making me mad?

“What I’m okay with... is not the point of this.”

He let the ice pack fall to the table and buried his head in his hands, hiding his eyes.

Eleanor.

She knew he’d eventually hate her for this. And she was okay with that. As long as he was strong enough to see this. And to fight this.

“What are you willing to sacrifice for Alexandria?”

“I’m not sacrificing you... for me. No. Never.”

He could see it now. He could see the rot. He could reject the rot.

But at what cost?

Eleanor. What have you done?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he jumped, recoiling. Dianna lifted her hand in surrender.

“Sorry. I was worried,” she said, frowning. “I can see that Eleanor has decided for you. And has deprived you of the agency you should have. And I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner.” She moved to sit on the coffee table. “You don’t have to accept if you don’t want to. That is your right. But I also hope I’m telling you all this so you can see if... what Eleanor wants for you... is what you want.”

Carl resisted the urge to glare.

He wished he had his blade with him. And he thanked every god he didn’t.

He took a deep breath.

“I don’t want to take your offer,” he said evenly.

Dianna blinked. Before she could spout more nonsense, he added:

“I don’t want any of this. But thank you for telling me.”

She stood.

“Very well. Let me know if you ever change your mind,” she said, walking away. “You have every right to change your mind.”

“I know,” he said, setting the ice pack on the table. “Thank you. I’ll be leaving now.”

“I hope everything works out for you, Carl,” she said softly. “I can see you deserve it.”

He walked out without another word, down the stairs.

This place was hell.

Not even for Judith did he want to stay a moment longer. Dread filled his chest.

Eleanor had to return. They had to talk. He... he had to say he understood. And he had to beg her to stop this. To let Aiden take control of the runs again.

They could protect themselves. She didn’t need to keep doing this any longer. He understood now. And now she needed to stop carrying that burden before it broke her. 

These people didn’t deserve it either.

Halfway to his house, he looked up. Enid was looking for him.

But before he could say anything, there were screams. People running toward the fence.
They were struggling to open the gates—with urgency.

Dread began filling his chest again.

He saw Sasha on the periphery, running toward the gate, and Dianna appeared out of her home, with her husband and Spencer beside her. The van roared to life as it entered the settlement. It didn’t look any different... at first.

Until Nicholas climbed down. He was covered in blood.

The man turned toward Dianna, and she screamed in pain, almost collapsing into her husband’s arms. The others appeared, and Nicholas received a brutal punch from Sasha before Abraham held her back.

Aiden. Tyreese.

Then Glenn appeared, with Maggie beside him, carrying Noah’s unconscious body.

Please. Appear.

Appear...

“Carl. Hey, hey—” He felt arms around him, steadying him, and realized he was halfway to the ground. He turned and saw his father holding him.

He tugged, trying to break free from Rick’s arms, but it was a short, half-hearted battle.

All the words in his mind, all the feelings in his heart... stilled.

Eleanor never came out of that van.

Chapter Text

"This is it?"

Eleanor looked at Tyreese. They had parked in what was truly a warehouse—at least four trucks visible, and beyond them a large, one-story building. No brands, no color. Maybe even only entrances meant for the trucks themselves. Past the walls, there was a fenced perimeter, likely meant to hold even more vehicles and equipment.

"Let's sweep the area," she said, then turned to assess what she had to work with. "Tyreese, you go with Nicholas. Aiden will come with me. And Noah, stay with Eugene—secure the entrance."

"If I may speak," Eugene began, his tone trembling, "I don’t have—nor do I know—how to wield a weapon—"

"Relax, Eugene," she said, checking her rounds. "I know that. You’re here to recognize that capacitor, and that's it. Just concentrate on that, ’kay?" She gave him a small smile.

He nodded solemnly.

"Great." She scanned the group again, then looked at Nicholas and sighed. "No rifles, Nicholas. Here... I think I’ve got another gun," she said, stepping back into the van.

She emerged holding a handgun and two blades. Then she looked directly at Nicholas, expectant, her hand out.

"Come on, man," Aiden said seriously, extending his own hand. Nicholas looked almost betrayed for a moment before shifting his gaze to Eleanor.

"We can't risk the noise, Nick. Just give it to me instead," Aiden pressed. Eleanor didn’t comment or show any emotion, fearing she might give away that this was a first for Aiden.

A complete 180, to be honest. But she'd take it.

"Thank you," she said, taking the rifle and setting it inside the van. "Let’s get to work."

Tyreese moved Nicholas with sheer force of presence, while she gave a last glance toward Noah and started moving with Aiden.

"Thank you. For earlier," she whispered.

"Nicholas isn’t a bad person," he said. "He’s just... still gotta get to know you. And the others." He shifted his head sideways and smirked. "Especially if he wants to admit you know what you’re doing... without pulling his head out of his ass."

She snorted. "You're not making a case, Aiden. That means you’re only putting up with me because I know my stuff."

"I still think you wanted me to hit you," he commented. "You swallow your pride. I swallow mine."

"Keep your pride," she sneered, and he huffed softly.

They reached the fence, and all conversation stopped.

At least a hundred. Maybe more.

All walkers. Wandering inside the open space of the warehouse. Not only could the fence give way if the herd concentrated due to noise—they had no way of knowing if the interior was clear.

"Shit," Aiden breathed.

Eleanor grabbed his shirt, pulling him back silently.

"Come on. We can’t make a single noise," she whispered. He turned, and they walked back to meet Tyreese and Nicholas. The other side was the same.

The entrance seemed deserted.

"We need to be fast," she instructed. "Noah, with Eugene. Sweep the corridors already cleared, get the thing, and walk out. We’ll sweep the parallel corridors as you advance. One stays on one side of the corridor until Eugene reaches it, then we move in tandem. Questions?"

"What happens if we find a walker?" Nicholas asked.

She frowned. Forced herself not to roll her eyes.

"Kill it? Prioritize the weapon. If you don’t have a clean shot, use the blades. Don’t waste your bullets bringing it down. If you can’t get the head, use the blades. We don’t know how many are inside."

"Let me go with him this time," Aiden offered. "I’ll use the blade."

Eleanor hesitated. She didn’t like this. She didn’t. But Nicholas was determined not to obey her. Aiden was here. He could make him obey.

"Fine. Let’s move now."

They went in. Everything was dark, quiet, and dusty—until it wasn’t.

Eugene visibly jumped half a meter, and all of them turned their guns to the right.

A fence, much like the one outside, separated them from a group of walkers on the other side. Workers. They looked pretty much decayed… and famished. Her stomach turned.

Did… these workers get locked inside here… to die?

A muffled sound pulled her attention back. She turned just in time to see Noah forcibly covering Eugene’s mouth. She looked back at the walkers, still roaming inside the fence. They hadn’t been alerted.

She raised a finger to her lips, then exaggerated the motion of zipping them closed.

Not a fucking sound. She mouthed it, shaking her head slowly. Aiden nodded. Tyreese did too.

She signaled to Aiden and Nicholas, pointing toward the corridor they were in and motioning for them to take the next. Then she turned to Noah, signaling him to wait. Tyreese and she swept the corridor in silence. Empty.

She waved Noah forward as he finally released Eugene. The man immediately began searching, moving shelf after shelf.

Not in here.

Eleanor nodded, signaling Tyreese to take the next corridor from his side. Then she motioned Noah and Eugene to follow her. Up ahead, Aiden was waiting.

He nodded and gave a thumbs-up. Cleared. She nodded back and let Eugene and Noah start searching that area.

Go to the next, she instructed Aiden silently. He nodded and signaled Nicholas, who moved fast to do the same from the opposite side.

So far, everything was going well.

"Found it, found it," she heard Noah whisper. He used his blade to pry open the box, and Eugene pulled one out.

Eleanor rolled her eyes and stepped up beside Eugene. She took another capacitor. Then another.

"What if one’s defective?" she whispered, sliding the small boxes into Eugene’s satchel herself.

Then she heard it. The distinctive, muted pop of silencers.

Alert now, she snapped her eyes toward Tyreese, who was signaling toward the next corridor.

Aiden. And Nicholas.

She grimaced.

"Go back to the van," she whispered to Noah and Eugene.

"But… what about—" Noah started.

"We’ll catch up," she sneered, already turning to Tyreese, signaling they were leaving. Noah moved Eugene without further question.

Scanning the corridors, she saw she was closer to the right. She pressed forward, trying to reach the other side.

She collided directly with Aiden, hiding behind the shelf.

"What the hell is going on?" she hissed, anger flaring.

"There’s a walker. Nicholas is trying to take it down."

"Trying?" she echoed, confused, then glanced toward the corridor.

She stepped forward—only to jerk back as a bullet whizzed past her, ricocheting off the wall behind.

Aiden dragged her roughly back behind the shelf.

"What are you, insane?" he whispered sharply.

"That’s a soldier!" she shot back, equally harsh. "He’ll never get him! That needs a blade! The helmet’s strong enough to block even a sniper—you should know this, Aiden!"

"He’s on the other side. He wouldn’t listen to me."

Eleanor shook her head in disbelief. Frustrated, she rounded the shelf, returning to the side where Tyreese and the others were. She saw Tyreese arguing with Noah at the far end. She huffed, breath sharp with exhaustion and fury.

Why isn’t anyone just doing what I tell them to?

Her head pounded. She was tired of everybody.

She rubbed at her eyes—the itch returning full force. With all the movement, whatever makeup she'd applied earlier had smeared away, irritating her already inflamed skin. She stopped, standing there a second, unsure if she was even halfway to where she needed to be.

Then, her vision went white. Her ears rang.

And something crushed her from the side.

Everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stood back up, and before his father could leave once he was stabilized, he turned and grabbed the sheriff by the collar.

“Carl,” his father said, concerned.

“They need to be interrogated,” Carl said with cold intent. “This is not normal. Eleanor didn’t simply die, nor did Tyreese. It’s no surprise only Eugene is able to talk.” He shook his father. “You’ll get the truth out of them. You have to promise me.”

His father went wide-eyed. Yes—Carl had never treated his father this way.

But he was done being contained, or thought incapable of acting just because he was overwhelmed. He was going to act, if no one else would act for him.

“Promise me,” he whispered dangerously.

His father took his hand, and Carl relented the grip on his shirt. Rick frowned, still confused, but it lasted only a moment before his gaze clouded. It darkened.

“Carl... there’s no guarantee—”

“They’ll lie. I know. That’s why, while you interrogate them, I’m going for them,” Carl said, stepping back.

It took Rick a good five seconds to register what had been said—but once he did, he bared his teeth, furious.

“You’ll do no such—!”

“I’m not asking for your permission,” Carl bellowed, resolute. “I’m going. And I’ll bring her back. Or kill Nicholas myself.”

It was Rick’s turn to grab his son by the collar.

“Carl, listen to me—!” he bit out, but the teen struggled, grabbing his own shirt and tugging to free it from his father’s hands.

“No. This is what Dianna wanted, and you know that,” he insisted, glaring at the sheriff. Their gazes were eye level. “I’m not doing this in desperation. This needs to be done. Because now... they’ll blame her, Dad. They will. And I won’t allow it.”

Rick stopped struggling. He released Carl slowly. The teen was the one to shake away.

“You talked to Dianna,” Rick said flatly.

“I did,” Carl answered, trying to straighten his shirt, but it was ruined. “And right after her little heir is dead. She’ll search for a scapegoat, and I won’t give her that. I’ll take Daryl with me.” He nodded, sure now. “We have to get her back.”

There was a strained pause. Rick rubbed his chin and looked at the horizon. There were still cries of pain at the entrance. He grimaced, shook his head, faltered... then tried again to face him.

“Take Michonne with you. She’s got the keys to the armory,” he said, almost defeated.

Yes... yes.

Carl let out a relieved huff and placed a hand over his father’s. Rick grasped it tight.

“Carl... don’t do anything stupid out there,” Rick said, sneering in anger. “I mean it.”

“And I mean it too,” Carl answered with the same tone. “I’ll get her back.”

Carl let go first. His father just let his hand fall. Carl didn’t look back. He moved at a brisk pace toward his house.

The first one he found was Daryl. He was standing at the entrance, frowning.

“What happened?” he asked.

“They abandoned Eleanor... and Tyreese,” Carl said. Before Daryl could react further, Carl put a hand on his shoulder. “I need you to help me get them back.”

Daryl searched his eyes. He bit his lip, hesitated, then after another second, he returned the gesture. He nodded.

“What’s going on?” Michonne exited the house.

“They left Eleanor and Tyreese behind,” Carl said. “Me and Daryl... we’re going for them.”

Michonne turned her head slowly. Her eyes opened wide. “Excuse me? Does your father know this?”

“Yes,” Carl said with conviction. “He suggested you come with us. That you have access to the armory.”

She frowned, looking Carl up and down. “He said you could?”

“Yes!” Carl said, exasperated. “He’s interrogating Nicholas and Eugene. But Eugene won’t go against Nicholas, and Aiden is probably dead. They’ll blame Eleanor. We need to hurry... Michonne,” he pressed.

There was a sadness that invaded her eyes. It threatened to cover her whole face.

But no. He couldn’t have it. He couldn’t name it, couldn’t think about it, couldn’t see it reflected in her eyes.

“She isn’t...,” he said, his tone subdued despite himself. “You know she couldn’t have... Please.”

“...Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll get handguns. And silencers.”

“Daryl, meet us at the entrance. I’ll get a med pack, just in case,” Carl said, already climbing the stairs of the porch.

He entered like a whirlwind and rummaged through the kitchen. Sure enough, he found a med pack. Eleanor had said she’d hide them there.

Eleanor.

His eyes filled with tears again, but he rubbed them away fast.

No. She was alive.

She was alive. And he was going to get her. One way or another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eleanor coughed. The dust coated her tongue, her nostrils, her eyes. The cold floor against her side told her she was on the ground.

The dust wasn’t settling. She had lost her flashlight. She extended her arms forward.

She hissed when her fingers connected with metal, instinctively sucking on the wound out of habit. There was a metal structure over her.

Toppled over, probably.

Her mind started recollecting the last events. She couldn’t remember anything past her conversation with Aiden. What was her conversation with Aiden?

She closed her eyes in defeat and let her head fall again.

Nicholas. The soldier walker.

Maybe it had some explosive on it, and Nicholas detonated it. God knows it wasn’t C4—they’d be obliterated now. Maybe gas, maybe a flamethrower. No matter what it was, the explosion surely alerted every walker within ten miles. And worse, it could have compromised the fences, inside and out. The walkers could already be swarming over her.

And she looked trapped.

She let out a sigh, tears pricking at her eyes. She sniffed and lulled her head in resignation.

Stupid Nicholas. Stupid Aiden.

But above all... stupid her. For thinking this could be done. And worse—for thinking she could do it.

Anyhow. She needed to get out of here alive. One thing at a time. Then she could wallow in self-pity.

She tried to move and yelped, clamping a hand over her mouth, whimpering against her palm.

Her leg. It hurt so much.

Panic threatened to take over. No. Not this again. She remembered when she jumped from that second floor. Escaping with an injured leg had been nearly impossible. Her eyes filled with tears again.

She forced herself to breathe. In. Out. Even. Controlled.

One thing at a time. One thing at a time.

She looked down and, despite the pain, tried to move her leg. She could. She wasn’t trapped. Almost instantly, she moved her hand to tap along her thigh, searching in the dark. It didn’t take long. Her fingers brushed something sharp, cold, triangular. A piece of glass.

She grimaced in panic and horror. It felt big. Tentatively, she slid her fingers beneath her thigh... and breathed in relief. It hadn’t gone through. It wasn’t that big.

Okay. Next thing. Her flashlight.

She looked around. Pitch dark. She reached out, tapping around for her bag. It had been on her back—now it wasn’t. Gladly, she found it not far away. She tried to yank it forward, but it didn’t budge. It was trapped under something.

Eleanor cursed under her breath and fumbled to open a side pocket of the bag, her fingers rummaging inside until she felt a tubular object.

She pulled it out. Snapped it.

A green light cracked to life, bathing the wreckage around her.

A metal shelf had fallen over—maybe propelled with her—but it was sustained by the other shelf, forming an awkward triangle of life, filled with broken boxes, dust, and small trickles of debris.

She looked down at her leg. The glass that pierced through her skin was about the size of a stapler. A shiver ran down her spine. There was a small stain of blood. Maybe she could risk pulling it out... it didn’t seem like she’d tear a vessel if she did.

But she needed something for a tourniquet. She looked around again, then flinched as she reached for her blade.

Again. Her shirt would have to do.

She moved to tear her shirt into a long strip of bandage, using the jacket directly for warmth. With the rag prepared, Eleanor used the sleeve of the jacket to grasp the ends of the glass. Her breathing shortened.

One. Two. Three.

The glass gave way. She clamped her mouth shut, barely letting out a whine as she twisted in place, now fully crying. She looked down at the shard... eight centimeters. She let her head fall again, catching her breath.

The blood.

Her head shot back up. She inspected the wound, hovering the flare close. Blood was pouring out, but less than she imagined. She moved fast, wrapping the makeshift bandage tight. She left enough slack at the end to grab the sheath of her blade, using it as a makeshift tourniquet. She secured it in place, tightening it as best she could, then turned around.

Now... onto the next thing.

She looked at the shelves. There was enough space for her to squeeze through. She shifted to sit, then crouch, her right leg still useless. Carefully, she moved boxes aside, clearing space to get out. Unsure if her gun was nearby, she drew her blade. After a moment of preparation, she peeked outside.

One... two... four... ten.

Walkers moved erratically. They hadn’t noticed her yet. But they would.

Slowly, she tried to lift her body off the shelf. The metal groaned under the strain. She froze. Two walkers turned. She dived back into the narrow space. The first one slumped and fell over the railing, which gave another groan of strain. She killed it fast, blade sharp, movements desperate.

She tried to emerge a second time.

The second walker wasn’t far. It walked straight to her. Fear overrode subtlety—if another walker buried her under debris, she was dead. She attacked.

She took her chance and didn’t hesitate. One by one, the walkers fell.

“Ay...” she whined, groaning. Her leg burned.

Limping back to where she’d started, she moved the flare, scanning for her bag.

Lord have mercy—she could reach it. It was only pinned under some boxes. While shifting them aside, she found her gun too. Her flashlight was too small to spot, and now the flare was blinking.

As soon as it gave out, she cracked a second.

She looked around her. The place seemed deserted... until she heard movement. She jumped when she saw a figure at the other side—not standing, precisely, but suspended.

She approached. Her face contorted in horror at the sight.

It was Aiden.

The force of the explosion had thrown him backwards. The shelves had upturned, and he was literally impaled in multiple places—his upper chest, his lower abdomen. Metal shards jutted out bloodied, piercing through him from back to front.

Eleanor stepped closer. A trembling hand rose to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. Her stomach churned... until he gasped. She flinched, stumbling back, fear jolting her out of her own body.

He was alive.

“Aiden...” she whispered, her voice breaking. She reached to cup his face as he blinked awake, but pulled her hands back, hovering, unsure. Was there even anything she could do?

“E–El...” he coughed. “Eleanor...”

“Don’t—don’t move,” she stammered, voice shaking. “I’ll... I—”

She looked down, panicked. What could she do? What was left to do?

“Aiden?”

She turned. Nicholas stood there—maddeningly intact—looking from Aiden to her, frozen.

Her jaw tightened. Half-limping to him, she grabbed his collar.

“Don’t just stand there,” she hissed, voice low and furious. “We need to get him out of there—” she shook him hard, noticing his blank stare, lost in the horror—“Now! Before—”

The grunts started again. The walkers were coming.

Before she could even process, she felt herself falling to the ground.

She half-shrieked, catching herself before she made more noise. Pain shot through her leg. She clutched it, gasping, just in time to see Nicholas give Aiden one last, hollow look—then run.

“Please...”

She heard it. Aiden, crying and choking in the distance.

She groaned, forcing herself up again, limping back to him.

“I... I can’t get you out on my own,” she said, voice breaking. “You have to be silent. Wait for me to get Tyreese... I promise, I—” Her words faltered.

She couldn’t promise survival. Not even hope. What if they were trapped? What if the others were gone? She sniffed, shaking.

“You were right. It was us...” Aiden whispered. She looked up, saw him smiling weakly. “Those people died... because of us. We panicked. Left them behind.”

“And you think I care about that now?” she snapped. She fired her gun at a walker without even looking. They were getting closer.

“Leave.”

She turned. Aiden was pushing her away—so feebly she barely felt it.

“Leave me here. It’s... no use anyway.” He coughed blood. “Just... end it. Please.”

She shook her head.

“Please,” he repeated.

Eleanor took two deep breaths. Then she raised her gun... and fired.

Aiden stopped moving.

She gasped, clutching her bag tighter, turning away.

The direction Nicholas had run led straight toward a cluster of walkers. She looked behind her. In the dark, more silhouettes formed.

Her breathing quickened. Her heart pounded. She closed her eyes.

In a moment, all sounds stilled. All panic smothered. A pit of fire ignited in her chest, and her thoughts became quiet.

As still as that afternoon in Atlanta... when she’d turned the blade on herself.

As still as the moment she’d stood on that school rooftop, ready to jump, medicine in hand for Carl.

As still as the moment she’d killed Alex in cold blood.

She was getting out of here. And she was getting out alive.

She held her blade in the same hand as the flare, gun steady in the other.

She chose a side, and started moving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They got a rigle, a sniper, two handguns, Michonne's Katana and his blade. 

"How are we geting outside?" Asked Daryl

"We'll  say you are going hunting," Carl explained, "I'll sneak from the back," 

Michonne gave him another reproving look, but one that ignored. They exitrd the armory, and carl took a handgun and a blade before they parted ways. He slolwy reached the back of Alexandria, the place where he always snuck out, and moved to climb until he saw a shadow on his right. 

Enid. 

He stopped andbsighed, as the girl looked at him, no specific expresion, but he could see the anger and dpubt past her eyes. 

"Are you okay?" She asked, her hands on her backpack. 

He sighed, and his eyebrows turned down in distress. "No. I'm not," his voice broke ,"but I can't  care about it until...," 

Until he couldbsee Eleanor again. Until he cod hug her, touch her, hear her voice, feel her breath. Until then, he couldn't  allow himself even the sliver of pain. 

"This is not for all of them, is it?" She asked again.

And Carl stopped a moment to understand her question. She meant if he got like this everytime a party left? Did eh think he got like this over every emmeber if his group? That all he did, all he suffered was because he was scred some of his group would die?  She looked down  unsure of the question, mayeb even discouraged, and he resisted the urge to show surprise. 

Maybe Ron was right in confronting him. Mayne he had something Carl ahd never noticed. Maybe he was reading it all wrong. 

The worst part is, he cared about it as much as he cared before. And he didn't  want yo hurt Enid. She was his friend. 

"No, only one," he whispered. She looked up, and nodded. An akward moment trailed on, until she looked forward in determination. 

"Let me help you," 

"I really appreciate the sentiment," he said with a raise of eyebrows, then he flinched he spunded too condescending, "I mean it, thank you Enid. But I can't  take you there," he said beggining to climb the fence. 

She glared at him.... was that anpout he was seeing? Or her version of menacing? 

"This is too dangerous for you," he insisted, turning over the fence, "maybe next time," 

He climbed down, and for a moment huffed in mirthless laughter. 

He felt guilt, he felt protectiveness, he felt doubt but enven so he felt telief  relief that Enid was stating on the other side of this wall, and he had one less problem to worry about. Maybe this is how Eleanor felt everytime she abandoned him somrwhere safe. At least there was guilt and dpubt in all of that mix. That, je could forgive. 

He let his forehead reach the wall, and he breathed to try and steady his thundering heart. 

He was gping to find her, he had to. He was no longer aure what he'd  do if he didn’t. For her... for himself, he had to find her. 

He turned aroubd alexandria, there were no walkers around it and he cuaght uo with Michonne and Daryl on the other side. 

"Sasha said they left west, 40 miles," Michonne commented

"Even at brisk pace, well reach it by night," Daryl gruffed. 

But taling the van wasn't  qn option, the others couldn't  know what they were about to do.... specially if they relayed that information to Dianna. 

"We'll  manage, if we find a car on the way... the better for us," 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eleanor leaned against the wall, panting, exhausted. She used the solid column as leverage just to stay standing.

Just a couple more steps… and she’d reach the exit.

Her adrenaline and stamina had been steadily depleted as she moved forward. The entrance they’d come through was blocked. She hadn’t found anyone nearby. The fear of being abandoned—courtesy of Nicholas—was creeping into her heart. She forced herself to push those thoughts away. Tyreese had to be out there. He had to see past Nicholas’ manipulation. He was her only hope.

But what if he was injured? What if he wasn’t her only hope?

She closed her eyes. The sheer number of walkers she’d killed had left her drenched in rotten blood—enough to pass half-hidden among them. Her limbs trembled; she couldn’t fight them like before. So she pressed herself against the wall, inching along slowly. Slowly. Until she reached the other side.

Light spilled from a half-opened door. She summoned the last of her strength to stagger toward it. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her. No bangs followed. She let out a shaking sigh of relief.

The light blurred her vision as she limped forward, realizing she was in some kind of lobby. A reception desk, maybe.

And then, she saw her worst nightmare unfold.

Tyreese. Half-trapped inside a circular door.

Nicholas, blocking it—before he bolted toward the van. Noah was nowhere in sight. Eugene stood helpless by the car.

These fucking cowards.

Eleanor screamed. She growled in fury, tears stinging her eyes. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She should’ve never trusted Nicholas. She should’ve never believed Eugene had learned anything from his past mistakes. They were leaving them to die. Just like Shane had left Otis. Just like Shane had once threatened to leave her if she kept "moralizing."

The walkers turned toward her at the sound.

And then something sparked in her chest.

It wasn’t adrenaline anymore.

It was rage.

For Aiden. For Tyreese. For herself.

She loaded her last bullets. Fired as she moved forward.

She wasn’t going to give these bastards the satisfaction of thinking she’d stayed behind for them. She wasn’t bait. She wasn’t disposable.

Fuck these people.

“Tyreese!” she bellowed.

The man stood, pushing toward her, firing as well. Eleanor fired her last round at the glass—not bulletproof, just tempered. Tyreese kicked at it, and like sand, the glass cracked and poured down.

Tyreese grabbed her, carried her fully as they fled down the hill.

That’s when Eleanor felt something warm. Liquid. Against her shoulder.

She looked down.

Horror struck her.

He was bitten.

“Stop! Stop!” she cried, slapping his chest weakly.

“We can’t stop. They’ll catch up,” he groaned, pushing onward. They turned the corner, back toward the trucks.

“Get in the truck. Get in! They’ll catch us either way!” she shouted frantically.

Tyreese looked both ways, then chose one. He hauled Eleanor inside. She shrieked in pain but scrambled to the passenger seat, locking the door and rolling up the window. He climbed after her and did the same.

The truck was high enough not to be easily compromised.

“Come back here,” she ordered, nodding toward the sleeping cabin behind them.

“What?” he panted, clutching his arm.

“Goddamnit, Tyreese. Come here.” She grabbed his shirt, yanking. He obeyed.

Frantically, she searched under the cabin bed—and found it. An axe. An extinguisher. A medkit.

She stumbled to the front cabin. Rifled through the dashboard. Found it.

A lighter.

When she turned back, Tyreese recoiled in terror.

He shook his head, panicked.

“No… no, no.”

“I have to, Tyreese,” she said, pulling out her blade. She grabbed a forgotten beer can and sliced it in half. “Think of Sasha. She’s waiting for you back home.” Her voice cracked. She poured rubbing alcohol into the makeshift tin, tore a strip from the curtain, and dropped it in. She lit it carefully. “Think of Sasha. She needs you.”

He hesitated. Then, after a long moment… he nodded.

“Good. Bite the headrest. Look away.”

She disinfected the axe blade, let her knife heat over the fire, and forced herself to steady her shaking hands.

Chapter Text

It was already twilight.

They hadn’t stopped walking. The road was clear, but there were signs it had been recently cleared. The walkers lay dead on each side of the road, and the rot was almost unbearable to face. This one-line road was what Eleanor took, surely, and it seemed they’d had to clear it as they moved.

Carl grew restless. Counting the time to drive by van—probably 30 or 40 minutes—plus this hurdle, they should’ve arrived at that place in an hour… hour and a half tops. They’d left at five… arrived at six-thirty. The return should’ve been even less. Half an hour. They returned around ten—the time Dianna called him to talk.

Those were two hours to account for. Something must have gone terribly wrong.

No. He couldn’t think like that. He needed to focus on one thing at a time.

“How much farther?” asked Michonne. As always, the picture of resilience. She hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Daryl took a moment to consider. “We should be close now. Maybe another hour.”

He resisted the urge to let out a sigh. An hour more was a lot. Too much. It would be night. And if they found the place swarmed by walkers, they’d have to find another shelter besides that building.

No one spoke of it. Of the need for shelter. Of the cold that would surely freeze them to death. He could feel the question in the air, but Michonne and Daryl were—for once—following him. They commented on nothing. That meant if he decided they should risk it all, they would risk it all.

It left a sensation of anxiousness. Impossible pressure. A fear of being wrong.

So this is what his father… and Eleanor felt, every time a hard decision was being made.

“Look over there,” Michonne signaled forward, and Carl followed her hand.

There was a truck. And it was visibly on… lights out, but the cabin showed movement.

His heart stopped. Could it be?

Please, God, let it be.

Just as he thought that, the door opened. A figure tried to climb down, but faltered at the end, more like sliding awkwardly to the ground. She didn’t have the clothes she left with—but the boots… the jacket...

His eyes filled with tears. He broke into a mad run.

She gazed at him, bewildered. Her arms half-opened.

He reached her. His hands trembled, so he grasped her face, smoothing back hair over and over, maybe too forcefully, maybe too insistent.

But he couldn’t help it. He needed to be sure this wasn’t his mind betraying him… too.

Her own hands reached his. Her face contorted in pain, and her tears fell freely. She looked scared. Terrified.

That expression sparked something in him. He hugged her tight. A vice grip that she answered.

That’s how he realized that all this time, he had many emotions bottled, chained, drowned.

Anger. Fear. Terror. Happiness. Sadness.

His knees gave in, and they fell to the ground together.

She began literally bawling. Loudly. Like a little girl that was lost in a supermarket.

At the image, he smiled. And silently laughed.

“I’m sorry,” she said between cries. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, I bet you are sorry,” he whispered back, barely any space between her neck to talk.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he panicked, holding her tighter, if possible. Afraid she’d be pulled away.

No. Not yet.

He turned. It was Michonne. She was kneeling beside them, her support present but giving space. She also had tears in her eyes.

Eleanor half-parted from him and hugged Michonne. Her cries turned into hiccups, and Michonne caressed her head.

He exhaled. Suddenly, he felt so tired he could pass out right there. Instead, he looked Eleanor over. She had clearly changed clothes—this looked like the overall a Home Depot worker would wear.

His eyes landed on the small spot of blood on her left thigh.

“You’re injured.”

She turned to him, and her puffy red eyes looked down. “Ah… it opened again,” she said, with pain and discomfort. Then she looked around her.

“Help me up,” she asked. Michonne moved to help, and Carl would’ve too, but Daryl stepped forward and did it.

He then pulled Eleanor into a tight hug as well. He looked down, his eyes also filled with tears that refused to fall. His face contorted in pain. He also looked like a kid.

Carl stood.

“Are you alone?” asked Michonne.

“No...” she sniffed, parting from Daryl and rubbing her eyes. “Tyreese is inside… but he’s badly hurt. Dangerously so,” she said, her face half-pained, half-serious.

They climbed inside.

Carl looked around as a wave of warmth enveloped him. Two seats, and behind them, an open curtain revealing a larger space. He climbed through, finding a bed.

Tyreese lay awkwardly sprawled across it.

Carl shivered and paled at the gruesome sight. His mind registered the distinct smell he'd been trying to ignore. Tyreese's lower arm was gone, and that was the smell of burned flesh. He gagged.

“Jesus... Christ,” Michonne whispered behind him. Carl made way, stepping aside as Daryl closed the door from his side. Eleanor, from hers, awkwardly climbed into the back cabin, joining them.

“What happened?” Daryl asked, setting the AC to full blast, trying to push out the smell.

“He was bitten,” she said in defeat. “The truck had an axe I could use, but what it didn’t have was... anything else. No medicines. No stitching kit.” She grimaced, wiping her runny nose with the inside of her sleeve. “So I cauterized the wound.”

A painful silence followed. Everyone looked at Tyreese—pity, horror, maybe even a little disgust in their eyes.

Eleanor’s face contorted in rage.

“They left us.”

Her voice came out as a broken growl. Carl turned to her. Her fists were trembling, knuckles white from the strain. She stood awkwardly, head bowed, new tears blooming... yet no fear remained. Only resentment. Only helplessness.

“Nicholas fired at a soldier walker,” she said, her voice shaking, “it had some kind of explosive. The bullet detonated it.”

She wiped her tears roughly.

“I was buried under the shelves. Aiden...” Her anger cracked for a moment. The pain behind her silence said enough. Aiden was dead.

Carl hesitated, then pushed, gently.

“How did he die?” he asked. “Aiden.”

She sat at the edge of the bed, near Tyreese’s feet. Carl slid down to sit beside her on the floor.

Her expression collapsed into pain. She hiccuped, shaking her head. “He didn’t do anything wrong,” she whispered, gasping brokenly for air. “The explosion threw him back... and... he was... impaled. On some protruding metal.”

Her gaze fell to the floor. Carl paled, but reached for her hand. She gripped it tightly.

“At his sight... and at mine... Nicholas ran away,” she growled, her fury returning. “I had to drag myself out alone. I found Tyreese trapped in a revolving door. Nicholas had blocked it as he jumped to the van. Eugene was driving.” She wiped her eyes again, angrily. “Tyreese told me the impact hit Noah in the head. He left Noah in the van and turned back for me... only for Nicholas to tell him no one survived.”

Carl felt rage ignite in his chest.

“I’m killing that fucking bastard,” Daryl hissed, voicing Carl’s exact thought. “Let’s go back. Now. Before everyone believes his lies.”

“It’s no use,” Eleanor croaked. “Aiden is the only casualty. Dianna will only see that.” She shook her head, defeated.

“Which’ll change when you return alive,” Carl said, steady. “But Elle’s right. Rushing now won’t help us. No one even knows we’re gone. And my dad needs time to break Eugene.”

“Your... what?” Eleanor looked at him, confused.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Carl said. “Right now, we rest for a moment. Then decide if we drive this thing back to Alexandria, or walk.”

Eleanor blinked, visibly surprised. Carl chose not to react. Not yet.

“I can drive,” Daryl said, checking the panel. “It’s got enough gas.”

“An hour?” Michonne guessed.

Daryl grunted and moved to recline the driver’s seat.

"Oh..." Eleanor sniffed again. "There's another bed, if you want it. Here... watch your head," she said to Carl as she pulled a switch on one side, then the other.

The diagonal ceiling folded down and locked into side holders, a very light mattress resting over it—it became a bunk bed. She pulled the stairs from his side.

"Nah, I'm good," Daryl said, turning around again.

"You're injured. You could climb up and stay there until we reach Alexandria," Michonne said, raising her eyebrows.

Eleanor pouted and moved to climb the cot. Carl hesitated for a moment, glancing at Michonne, then followed Eleanor up. He reached to close the curtain, but Michonne caught a corner.

"Nuh-uh," she said, glaring at him.

"Seriously?" he said, deeply offended, giving Michonne his back.

He saw Eleanor turn around, flinch as her left leg awkwardly twisted upwards. She was giving him her back. He thought only for a second before he came closer, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and buried his face in her nape.

Minutes passed in silence. Maybe more than he'd anticipated, because he soon heard the distinctive snore from Daryl and the soft, purr-like breathing of Michonne.

Out like lights. He couldn't blame them. They’d walked for hours without stopping. In fact, his own eyes were starting to drop.

But Eleanor shifted again. Not to lie down horizontally—Carl gave her space—and as soon as she found a comfortable position, she turned to face him.

Her eyes were puffy but bright with questions. Not a hint of sleep.

Was she going to tease him for stepping into a leadership role? Ask if Rick knew he was here? Tell him he shouldn’t have come for her? Or worse—sweep the last three months of silence under the rug just because he’d “learned the lesson”?

If she called it a “lesson”... even hinted at it... he’d climb down and walk back to Alexandria on foot.

"Choose your questions carefully," he whispered as a warning.

"You talked to Dianna?" she asked, matching his whispered tone.

"Yeah," he answered. "She wanted me to rein you in. Be her inside guy on the runs."

Eleanor frowned. Carl added, "She didn’t phrase it like that."

Eleanor let out a sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?" he shot back, his anger mildly tickling from far away. "Better rephrase that, ’cause you're not."

She looked down, took a deep breath. "What I did... I knew it would hurt you. But I did it knowing it’d give you the weapons to confront her. And what she represents. I’m not proud of it. But watching you now... I’d do it again."

"That's an improvement," he nodded. "Is that all you’re gonna say?"

She half-turned, tried to cuddle against him. He shifted, moved his other arm to cradle her head, finally deciding to let her use him as a pillow.

"Still... I hurt you." Her voice cracked. "I hurt you, and I hurt myself... for thinking I could be without you. And you without me. For that... I am sorry."

He kissed her forehead, then her lips—a small, careful peck—before whispering:

"Just don’t do it again."

Then he kissed her again, this time asking for entrance.

Silently, he sighed as he tried to curl himself around her, half-rising as she fully turned horizontal. Their tongues moved slowly, an effort to stay quiet... but their rhythm increased, speed and intent building.

Soon the stealth was forgotten. They kissed over and over, lost in each other. His hands roamed. His pants felt painfully tight. Somewhere, in the background, his mind stayed half-focused on Daryl’s snores and Michonne’s purrs—but it was futile. They’d be heard from miles away.

So, reluctantly, he grasped her chin and pushed. They parted, mouths open, their breaths mixing in silent desperation. Their foreheads touched, breath mingling in a silent plea to keep going. He kissed her temple, buried his face back at her neck, trying to roll her over again.

They shifted once more, spooning. He tried not to move too much, but the inevitable happened, and he barely suppressed a half-groan against her skin.

"What... is...?" she asked hesitantly.

He blushed. "Do me a favor... and don’t move."

He heard her huff in amusement, but she stayed still as stone. Minutes passed. Eventually, he calmed down, releasing the breath he’d been holding, slow and even. Absentmindedly, Carl traced his fingers through the roots of her hair.

Then Eleanor whispered.

"At his last moments..." she said softly, and Carl moved to press his ear closer, "Aiden confessed. The people who died on those runs... it was because he and Nicholas panicked. And ran."

"Was he... still alive when you...?" Carl started but stopped. He felt her clutch his arm tighter. He pulled her closer.

"He asked me to end it... before I left," she said.

A strained silence followed. Carl breathed against her hair, planting small kisses along her nape.

"I wouldn’t have left him alive... even if he hadn’t asked me to," she continued. "I knew his screams could’ve drawn walkers... and saved me from them. But I couldn’t. Because that was done for me once. And I swore... it wouldn’t happen again."

Carl froze. He was dying to see her face. What was this? Who... who was she talking about?

"What... do you mean?" he whispered, praying she wouldn’t fall silent.

He needed to know.

But he also knew not to pry.

“Has Maggie ever told you... how Otis died?”

He felt his blood pooling in his stomach, twisting uncomfortably. Unbidden came memories from the past—of Hershel, of Beth, of her older sister... Patricia. Yes... that was her name. She often brought him soup. And Otis... Otis was her husband. A man he never knew directly, but associated with a grave covered in stones, resting under an oak tree.

“No,” he whispered. Neither did Eleanor. The only thing she said... “You said it was while getting me the medicines, when I was shot.”

She remained silent again. He only breathed warm air against her neck, waiting.

“I was slowing them down. And I asked Shane to leave me behind. And get you the medicines. To buy us a sure escape, he shot Otis in the leg. His screams attracted the walkers, and they ate him while we escaped. It wasn’t a choice. And it wasn’t heroism. He was left behind... and his screams haunt me... to this day.”

She released his arm. He placed a hand over hers. Yet his heart was thundering.

“Nobody knows this. Not even Rick,” she said with a broken whisper. “To this day... it was a secret kept by me and Shane.”

His eyes welled with tears. He couldn’t believe it. Shane—Shane wouldn’t...

An image of Shane, without hair, taciturn, avoiding him, resurfaced.

An image of Shane, violently pushing Eleanor forward as he opened the barn doors, resurfaced.

An image of Shane, turned into a walker, tumbling toward his father, resurfaced.

“This wasn’t Shane. Or at least... I didn’t want to believe it was.” Her voice sounded drowned, and she trembled. She was crying. “He saved me from Ed Peletier, when he hit me. He saved me from Dr. Jenner when he drugged me. This was... also, a way to save me. But what he did was something I couldn’t reconcile with myself—not after what happened to my mother. I kept the secret because he saved my life. And because... I did nothing to stop it. I lied for him. To Maggie. To Glenn.”

She sniffed. “To Hershel and to Beth. And I lie to them to this day. I am an accomplice.”

Carl moved to speak, but didn’t know what to say. He wanted so badly to turn Eleanor around. To assure her it would all be okay. But he couldn’t.

“It was one secret... that soon turned into more.” She sniffed again. “Shane was not alright. He was spiraling. And my own guilt over Otis prevented me from helping. From truly reaching... despite knowing. Despite knowing...”

She hiccuped again. Carl’s heart twisted, and his own eyes filled with tears.

“Knowing that his instability lied in your mom. And what she had shared with him.”

He couldn’t stop himself. He turned her around. Eleanor let herself be turned, and her tear-struck face met his. She showed pain—and confusion.

“When Sophia went missing... and we reached that church... I heard them. By accident. Shane was planning to leave the group once Sophia appeared.” She hid her face in his collarbone. “He wanted to leave because he didn’t want to be a wedge between Lori and Rick. And because... what happened with her... was while they thought Rick was dead.”

Carl looked forward, his heart beating fast. Eleanor tried to pull away, but he held her tighter.

“Two secrets became three... when... when...” She fell silent again.

“When...?” he whispered. His lip trembled. One tear finally fell.

“When we learned Lori was pregnant. There wasn’t a certainty that it was Rick’s. And Shane wished to believe it wasn’t.”

Carl huffed, a cold sensation lodging in his chest.

It all made sense.
It all made sense.

Why from one moment to the next his mother didn’t want him around Shane. Why Shane became so distant. And why... why he fought so much with his father. Shane—when they laughed like a pair of schoolboys back at home...

“It all crumbled when Randall appeared. It all surfaced. Because Shane thought he was being replaced. In Lori’s heart. And in yours... by Rick.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, trembling. Her arms met his in the same tight embrace. “When I blindly sided with Rick about Randall... it tipped the scale. I know it did. Because... the morning Randall went missing, it was him. He took him to the woods. Twisted his neck. I saw him do it. And he chased after me. Tied me to that tree, saying I needed a reality check... that I needed to wake up. And side with the real person who could protect Lori... protect Judith... and... protect you.”

She gasped against his chest. And clung to him for dear life.

She looked up after a moment of silence. Her face was a worse wreck than before. Still, she moved to clean his silent tears—not hers.

“Don’t blame Shane. Never stop loving him, Carl. He loved you. Very, very much.” Her face contorted in pain. More tears followed. “He did everything for you. He sacrificed everything for you. Even his sanity. And I’m telling you this now... because I know now... you can understand. What love can do. When it’s not rooted in trust. In strength. In emotional restraint.” She patted his hair. “I want you to remember Shane forever for what he meant to you. And as a cautionary tale. For you... and for me.”

She gave a long sniff.

“And God forgive me... sometimes you remind me of him more than your own dad.”

He sniffed now, swallowing a lump in his chest. He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he whispered back. And cradled her head under his. “Don’t be.”

They stayed like that, locked in each other, for who knows how long. Finally, Eleanor shifted uncomfortably. Carl moved her over him, and they switched sides. Eleanor still facing him, but now her injured leg back at the surface.

“Is it open again?” she croaked, rubbing her eyes and cleaning her nose.

“No, it’s alright,” he whispered, giving the limb a little look.

She finally fell silent, and once again rested against his chest.

“This...” she began after a moment, “this was my last secret to you. I don’t want to hide anything from you again. Not my pain... nor my guilt.” She hugged him tighter. “Only you.”

He kissed her forehead, rubbed his cheek against her skin.

“And I won’t either. I promise you,” he whispered. And it reached his chest, and from there it came—unbidden, sincere, unprompted. A leap.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered against him.

They fell in silence.

After a couple more minutes, Michonne’s watch beeped, jolting both she and Daryl awake. Daryl turned on the truck. Carl felt the shift of the vehicle as it roared to life and began moving.

He looked down. Eleanor was sleeping against him.

Giving her a last peck on the forehead, he shifted to sleep beside her.

A short 30 minutes... that felt like a lifetime of rest.

Chapter Text

Carl clutched the sleeping form of Eleanor when he felt the distinctive sensation of the brakes. It seemed she felt it too, because she woke with a startle.

She whined softly and curled further against his chest.

“No, no,” he whispered, leaving tiny kisses on her face. “Wake up, we’re here.”

“Already?” she mumbled, turning her body around. She tried to stretch in the cramped space but flinched at her back.

“Lower back again? What an old granny,” he joked.

She managed to open one half-eye at him, frowning, and yawned. She rubbed her eyes and gave her cheeks a couple of small slaps to wake herself up.

“Okay,” she said groggily. “It’s showtime.”

She slid from the bed, wobbling once she reached the ground with a soft yelp.

“You okay?” he asked, hissing a little himself as he slid awkwardly down after her, also faltering at the step. That upper bunk wasn’t comfortable at all. Maybe there was an extra mattress they were supposed to use and hadn’t known about.

He looked down, waiting as she inspected Tyreese. To his surprise, the man was awake.

He remembered when they’d cut off Hershel’s leg—he’d been out for days. Maybe it was different with an arm. He didn’t know. Still, Tyreese didn’t look good. Beads of sweat signaled fever, and his movements were sluggish, small. Eleanor pulled the second bed away to let him get up, but he clearly needed help.

Maybe Tyreese was awake out of sheer will.

“Come. Let Michonne and Daryl do it,” Carl said, placing a hand on Eleanor’s shoulder. She looked at him, unsure, but relented.

It was still night, with a biting cold at that. Carl stepped down first and helped Eleanor climb after him.

“Little girl!”

Eleanor looked up. From the sentinel post, Abraham punched the metal walls in half-contained victory. Beside him, Sasha looked at Eleanor on the verge of breaking down… Carl wasn’t sure if it was from relief or pain. He jumped when his father reached him with a hug, then immediately changed gears and hugged Eleanor tightly, grasping her neck in reassurance. Eleanor almost cried again.

“You’re okay?” Rick asked, and she nodded. “You… are… okay?” he insisted, voice thick.

“She’s got an injury in her left thigh,” Carl announced.

His father turned, a mix of annoyance and pride flashing over his face. Carl stood straight as Rick pulled him into another hug. They made space at the bark of Michonne, and slowly, Tyreese emerged.

Rick paled. His eyes darted between Eleanor, Carl, and Tyreese, alarm settling over his features.

A scream split the air. Sasha ran past them, grabbing Tyreese desperately. She patted his face, sobbed at his ruined arm, but then, as she turned, she pulled Eleanor into a crushing hug, whispering thank yous over and over.

“Has he talked?” Carl asked flatly as they advanced into Alexandria.

“Eugene has… but neither Dianna nor Nicholas know.”

“Good,” he said with a clipped nod.

“How was it out there?” Rick asked.

Carl turned and saw a small smile tug at his father’s mouth.

He huffed. “It was easy. No walkers at all.” He patted Rick’s shoulder. “Thanks for letting me go, Dad.”

“You said you were going with or without my consent,” Rick complained. “It was either that… or you sneaking out on your own.”

“But I was right, wasn’t I? And before you comment… they were the ones who had the truck. Elle and Tyreese.”

His father snickered, pulled him into another hug, but sobered as they passed through the gates.

Unlike the reception at the walls, the silence inside was pregnant. Eerie. Expectant… and, at the same time, lonely.

Hunched like three lost souls were the forms of Dianna, her husband, and Spencer. Dianna's eyes filled with tears at the sight of Eleanor. Her face contorted in pain… then in rage. Her husband was containing her in a vice grip.

Carl knew where this was going.

"We’re so glad to see you, little girl." Abraham came down the door, now closing without electrical problems. They had installed the new capacitor already.

Dianna was intercepted fast by their group. All of them… Tara, Rosita, Carol… offered a form of welcome. A twist in Carl’s heart formed when Eleanor accepted the hugs from Beth, from Glenn, from Maggie. And a thought settled in his chest.

Eleanor might have kept silent, but that was out of love, not only guilt. She loved them all—Shane included—and so she had appointed herself to carry that guilt to her grave.

And he was more than ready to carry that burden with her.

He was so lost in that thought, he hadn’t noticed Eleanor was holding his hand. Hadn’t let go of it even now. He only noticed because Enid came too, and as he smiled, her gaze fell onto their joined hands. Then she gave a small smile of relief.

He answered with a bigger one.

“Miss Monroe.”

Eleanor stepped—rather awkwardly limped—to face Dianna now, closer, beside him.

“As of this moment, I step down from my position as chief of runs.”

Dianna took a moment to emote, then gave a cynical smirk. But before she could speak, Eleanor continued.

“I should’ve never allowed your authority to override my good judgment. Aiden has died today because of that decision. Tyreese has lost an arm because of that decision. I take responsibility for it. That decision… was allowing you to make me take Nicholas on the runs. Inexperienced, untrained, and unstable for the mission.” She took a breath. “I’ll submit my full recorded declaration shortly. Rick will record me at home while I recover from my own injuries. I hope that’s alright with you.”

Carl clutched her hand tighter, heart thundering in his chest.

Simple. Forefront. Commanding… yet sincere.

Dianna pressed her lips together and nodded, though her gaze remained murderous.

“Tyreese is in critical condition,” Eleanor intoned again. “He might not stay conscious for long. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen, but it’s a possibility. He’s lost too much blood. If you wish to get a statement from him, I only ask you do it with Michonne or Rick present, recorded if necessary… but prioritize him. If not, please… just let him recover.”

“Understood,” Dianna answered clippedly.

Eleanor nudged him, and Carl turned. She released his hand but whispered softly, “Help me walk.” He looped her arm over his shoulders, then grabbed her waist as they walked away, while she used him as a crutch.

“You need medical attention,” Rick interjected.

“My wound has been treated. I only need medicine,” she corrected. “I’ll clean myself and wait for you by the couch.”

“I’ll interrogate Tyreese first, then come to you,” Rick insisted, and she nodded.

They made their walk in silence… in solitude… as all the others gathered around Rick and Dianna, tense and ready to fight.

He looked around for people’s reactions and was surprised. The rest of the Alexandrians talked. Discussed. Looked wronged, betrayed, disgusted… confused.

But not at Eleanor.

Their eyes went beyond both of them. He frowned, following those gazes, and turned to his right.

Nicholas was exiting his house… and froze at the sight of Eleanor.

A subtle dread lodged in Carl’s stomach.

And he wasn’t wrong.

Nicholas walked down the stairs, intent clear. The light of night allowed Carl to catch the glint of a blade, hidden in Nicholas’ right hand.

Someone screamed for help.

Nicholas swung sideways, aiming for Eleanor’s neck, but Carl grabbed her from behind and swung her around. He felt a sting on his left cheek and knew he’d been cut.

“Carl!” Eleanor said in alarm, but he released her to the ground. She fell onto her injured leg and winced. Carl used that moment and turned—only to block a second attack.

“You’re crazy, man,” he grunted, fighting to override Nicholas’ strength. He needed to push him away from Eleanor and have a moment to pull his own blade. But Nicholas' strength was far larger. He fell to the ground.

But before Nicholas could jump on both of them, he was yanked back and fully restrained.

His father.

“She killed Aiden!” Nicholas half-screamed, half-cried as his face was pressed to the ground. “She tried to kill me!”

“I’ll testify in her place. Now,” Michonne said beside Rick. “Tyreese is calling for you. He wants to be recorded… too.”

“Get the tape recorder,” Rick grunted as he struggled to cuff Nicholas and make him stand. “We’ll call for a council,” he growled in rage.

“Carl.” He turned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He touched his cheek. The blood poured, but even with his fingers he could feel it wasn’t deep. “Just a nick.”

“I’ll treat him myself,” Eleanor said.

He hadn’t even noticed she was hugging him protectively.

“Do that,” Rick grunted. “And don’t come out of the house.”

They stayed like that for a moment, before he felt a hand turning his face. He jumped, and his eyes met Eleanor’s. She tried to use her sleeve to clean some of the blood, but he recoiled.

“Let’s get inside,” he whispered, and stood. Then he motioned for Eleanor to hug him, and he lifted her.

They walked to the house in silence. Once the front door closed, they remained standing.

He was useless.

He looked down, and his stomach twisted into uncomfortable knots. He wanted to scream, to punch something—or to be punched.

If his father hadn’t been there, Nicholas would’ve stabbed Eleanor. And him, along with her. He couldn’t protect her. Without a gun, he was defenseless.

Had anything changed, from when he was younger? Would it ever? Would Eleanor die before he did?

He felt a hand tugging him forward. Eleanor had taken some steps, and at his immobility, she tried to move him.

He moved his hand away forcibly, still nailed to the ground.

“Carl,” she said, half-annoyed, half-patient. She tried again, and he tugged away once more.

“I don’t want to, okay?” he snapped. “Just… leave it like that.”

She frowned and stepped forward, trying to grab his hand more forcefully. He evaded her, but she tried with the other. A half-hand battle ensued.

“No! Let go of me!” he bellowed, but his voice broke at the end.

“Shut down your thoughts for a second, will you!” she screamed back. “You have to be treated. And you can turn around and walk away and get treated by Denise if you must, but you’ll get treated,” she said, serious.

He grimaced, trying to shove her away faintly. His eyes were burning, his throat closing.

Eleanor moved to hug him, and he put his arms between them.

“Don’t,” he begged, “stop.”

She stopped, and sighed, taking his hand again.

“Let’s get ourselves patched up first… please,” she begged in turn.

He let himself be led upstairs in silence.

Without care, Eleanor opened the door to her room and sat him down on the bed. Like a living corpse—he huffed at that—he let himself be sat, while she searched for a medkit.

He returned to reality when he felt a stinging sensation on his cheek. He hissed and recoiled. Eleanor was cleaning it with cotton and alcohol.

She grabbed his nape when he recoiled a second time.

“Are you done?” he snapped.

“Keep still,” she said, focused on her work. He looked down.

“My father used to say,” she began again, “that making steel was a far more difficult process than just… casting iron. If the process was rushed, the steel blade would break under pressure. But if the process was respected—no matter the time or effort—the resulting blade could cut through wood, through bone, and even through stone… without denting.”

He gritted his teeth, looking away. He didn’t want to hear it. He knew what she was doing, and he didn’t want to hear it. She turned his face back to her.

He fought it harder. “Are you done?” he snapped a second time.

“No. No, I’m not done.” She lifted her eyebrows, warningly. Next came the cream. It was cool and itchy. “...You are sixteen. And you’re the person I love. But that will never change the fact that you are sixteen. Nothing in this world or another will change that fact.”

He tried to recoil, but the hand on his nape didn’t let him.

“That doesn’t mean you’ll stay like this all the time. Back in the woods, Daryl asked me if what I thought I was doing with you was wrong.” Her hard stare softened. “All I could say was that... I wrestled with the fact I could be a hebephile. That if Lori ever stood in front of me, I could take it. It all stemmed from the fact that you’re growing. That maybe… in some things, it’ll happen fast. And others… it will take the time it has to take.”

She placed a gauze and a band over it to keep it in place, then she grabbed his face with both hands, turning his gaze to her.

He tried to lift it out of spite.

“Stop that… or I’ll have to restart again,” she warned. He stood still.

Her gaze softened, and even filled with tears.

“Don’t you think I’m terrified? Not only of what happened to you, but also of you trying to grow too fast for my sake.” Her brows furrowed in pain. “All I ever want is your happiness. All I ever wish is to see you turn into the best version of yourself. And my heart leaps every time you do something new… and it bleeds every time you think you’re not enough. You’ll always be enough. For me. You’re enough already.” Her voice broke, and she swallowed. Carl felt his eyes stinging, his vision blurring. “That doesn’t change the fact you still have far to go. And if I’m willing to wait, and be patient… will you be patient with me?”

He sniffed. And she pulled him into a hug. She was trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You’ve saved me. Many… many times. And you’ll save me a million more,” she whispered back. “And I’ll always trust you will.”

They parted, and she kissed his injured cheek.

“Again,” he whispered, and she kissed the cheek again.

He moved her face to kiss her lips instead. She complied, even met him with her mouth open, tongue reaching out already. They locked lips, and he eased into the touch.

Like water. Like a soft breeze. His taut nerves felt a rush of respite. He sighed into the kiss. He always did, always. He pulled back slowly, and restarted, as if the fact they joined again after a second of parting made the sensation cleaner.

What truly hurt, was the new pressure in his chest. Her voice replayed in his mind. His emotions fought to the death.

He was still frustrated. He was overjoyed. He was angry. Mad. He was happy.

He was terrified. Impossibly terrified. What good did it make for him to take this long to match her, when he could lose her the second he looked away? How much farther must he go, when whatever mattered to him could vanish in a single heartbeat?

He hadn’t completely processed the fact she almost died in that run. That a fucking bomb exploded, trapped her under, that she fought through a sea of walkers—any could have bitten her. He hadn’t even checked. What said she wasn’t bitten now?

Why did each moment shared between them feel so borrowed? As if each kiss, each smile, each hug chipped away at a countdown. Reaching, surely, eventually… a zero.

He pulled her close, feeling that now… kisses wouldn’t be enough to soothe this fear inside him. He parted. His eyes were welling with tears.

That’s how he noticed she was crying too. She hiccuped. And in those eyes, he saw reflected the same frustration, the same terror, the same helplessness. Despite her wise words, and her anecdotes. She was also scared she’d disappear. That she wouldn’t see the end with him. She trembled.

His heart hammered. Almost threatening to burst from his chest. He grabbed her neck, his digits brushing her veins. Soft. Warm. Alive. His hands followed the bone of her clavicle; the zip of the overall made way, and his fingers reached her shoulders.

She shuddered, and parted. Her gaze, still with falling tears, had a different light. Her eyes danced, and her hand rested on his chest.

Her fingers tugged on his shirt, her index touching the line of his sternum. He shivered in turn. Only a gaze was exchanged. Not sure if it was a silent agreement. But they didn’t break eye contact, as he saw his shirt and flannel pass over his head. Knowing, for once, to let all fall to the ground.

He breathed in, and closed his eyes for a moment as her hands roamed his chest. His hands moved in turn, tugging down the overall, revealing her bra. He tugged harder, the zipper giving full way. With a kiss, he pushed her down to rest on the pillows.

He wanted to think further, but couldn’t. His heart hammered. It blazed on fire. He couldn’t even articulate her name.

All he was sure of was that he needed this. He wanted this. He must have this. Or he would die. He’d surely perish.

Eleanor lifted her knees and the overall finally gave way. With tentative hands, Carl touched her thighs, and sighed again, this time veiled with a moan. His hands climbed up, pressing against her abdomen, tracing the line at the center until he reached the space between her breasts. His lips left her mouth and traveled to her neck, biting, sucking, taking in. They went further—to her collarbone, to her shoulders.

He felt nails on his back. She was heaving.

“Carl,” she breathed in. Her voice an invocation. An incantation.

He fumbled with his pants. They reached his knees before he leaned over, fully pressing against her.

Finally, the soothing feeling returned. It caressed his nerves. It tempered his fears.

More. He needed more.

A sound like thunder echoed in the night.

Gunfire.

Their movements stilled. His head emptied of all thoughts. He could hear his own heartbeat. His own breathing. Had he imagined it?

He turned to Eleanor for confirmation. She had stilled all movement too, her eyes wide. She was silently asking the same question.

Just as that gunfire, his brain restarted—and brought back his memories.

Wasn’t his father supposed to return for Eleanor?

Who had fired? Had Nicholas gone rogue? Was there danger?

They sat back up. Eleanor looked at the window, and he stood, tugging his pants back up and absentmindedly buttoning them as he reached it.

A faint light emanated still from Dianna’s house. People were gathered. None ran.

Carl and Eleanor looked at each other. And the silence also brought realization. He blushed, looking at her, and turned away. Realizing, Eleanor crossed her arms over her chest, also blushing.

“I’ll leave you to shower,” he said with a half-croak. “I… I-I think I’ll take one too.”

He saw her nod from the corner of his eye. As if afraid the floor would give way under him, he walked to the door and closed it behind him.

His thoughts stilled again, leaving space for shame, and surprise.

Had they almost…?

He blushed again, and, half-swaying in the corridor, he reached his father’s room and closed the door.

~*~

Carl looked up from the ground. He twisted his neck over the couch as he saw Eleanor—Judith and fluffy cover in hand—walking toward him.

He really didn’t expect her to resurface from whatever cave she’d hidden in... so soon. They were both in polar pajamas, and yet, his mind could perfectly map those thighs, that chest, that soft line of her abdomen.

He blushed and looked away, remaining that way until he noticed she sat at the far end of the couch—he was at the other.

And Judith as a shield?

He huffed. They looked ridiculous.

So this is what an elephant in the room felt like.

“Are we to stay like this forever?” he asked, still looking away.

“Well... not forever,” he heard from his left.

“Until I’m seventeen, then.”

“No... not that long either.” He heard her shift. “Give me a couple of minutes to gather my bearings.”

“What, was the shower not enough?” he joked, still religiously looking the other way. Despite that, he could tell—she was closer. “I thought you’d drown in there again.”

She groaned. It sounded muffled, probably against Judith.

A pause.

“Embarrassed?” he tempted. He was sure he was. She had, technically speaking, seen him in boxers only.

“Mortified,” she enunciated.

Carl felt a little sting in his chest. She didn’t have to say it like that. What was so bad about him seeing her?

“I’ve been swarming in walker remains all morning... all grime and sweat... a-and I felt it in the bathroom. I stink,” she groaned against Judith again. “Why am I even telling you this.”

The little sting gave way to a pleasant squeeze in his chest.

“I haven’t noticed.”

“Please... let us just move on,” she whined again.

“I’ve been walking for hours since morning too. Did you notice?”

“...” Silence.

“You didn’t either, did you?” he insisted.

“So?”

“So, that was not the point of... whatever happened, up there.” His voice grew quiet.

He heard a sigh, and she scooted closer. He turned to finally look at her—and snorted right after. No, laughed.

She was flushing red. And she’d blow-dried her hair so poorly it looked like an old witch’s broom, barely held together in her hairband.

That pink headband he’d given her... still there. He blushed.

“What? It’s cold,” she said defensively. He leaned over, lifted her legs, and turned her to rest them over his. He scooted closer.

Naturally, his arms and hands landed between her thighs and her knees.

Gods... those thighs.

And yet, he didn’t feel the same urgency that had invaded him earlier. He was confused—he couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t wrong... but it was too much.

Like that time at the library. That had been clearly too much. But this... was different.

“What happened... up there?” he asked, genuinely.

Eleanor sighed and rubbed her head. “Sometimes, being under a great deal of stress—life-and-death situations—heightens certain emotions... like love, and longing,” she explained, reclining her head on the sofa. “People fall in love during crisis. It’s why you see... a military man with a nurse he met during deployment... and such. The emotions override conscious thought. It’s not... desire. It’s a deep calling for connection. For closeness.” She paused, playing with Judith’s hair. “Of course, we’re not that case. Those cases often have no real scaffolding. Those couples can fall apart easily once the crisis is over. In our case...” She blushed. “It’s the opposite, really. We have all the emotional scaffolding.” She lifted her eyebrows. “I reckon... it’s our emotions that made the experience even stronger. More intense.”

He frowned, but nodded. He could admit he was impressed. That was an explanation.

He was also secretly glad Eleanor didn’t think they’d grow separated after this.

“We just need to be careful. And mindful,” she said with a nod.

He nodded. “I get it.”

After that, they fell into a companionable silence. He stretched the covers, and the three of them were soon sharing them.

“What do you think happened?” he asked again.

“I don’t know... but I fear—” She stopped midway. Judith had fallen asleep on her chest, and Eleanor was absentmindedly tracing lines along her back with her fingers. “I fear that a decision was made already... and that Nicholas is dead.”

“Why so sure?”

“I just...” She let out a sigh. “Aiden is the only one dead. Tyreese was conscious and present when Nicholas made the mistake that almost killed us. He lied to Tyreese about me surviving. He left Tyreese to be eaten by walkers. Besides... your father said Eugene confessed when we arrived, didn’t he?” Carl nodded. “He’s cooked,” Eleanor said, shaking her head. “All this time, all that Dianna’s done was to ensure she—no, the Monroes—still had control of Alexandria. Now... she’s lost Aiden. I don’t see Spencer taking his place. And their position has fallen harder because I made it clear and early on that taking Nicholas wasn’t my decision.” She let out another sigh. “I had to act fast. You gave me the chance to act fast.”

She reached under the covers to land her hand over his. He grasped it tight, and a small smile reached him.

“What did she tell you... exactly?”

“Why’s that important now?” Carl asked, not defensively, but curious.

“I need to know. To compare what I expected her to tell you, and what she actually did. I need to know her moves. To prevent them better in the future,” Eleanor explained.

Carl nodded and looked up, letting his head rest against the couch. He frowned. “Okay... First, she said it like... like you’d hidden—no, like you’d taken away my right to decide. And that you never told me she’d offered you the chance for me to be an adult and join you in the leadership of the runs.” He paused, nodding more surely now. “Yes. That was it. She said that you contradicted yourself. Called me capable, then a kid the next. That you didn’t want me to lead beside you... and that you wanted to lead alone. She pretty much explained she respected our relationship, and wanted to use it as a show of our strength.” He glared—rage, and disgust. Then looked down, pained.

“Had I been... four months earlier, I would’ve accepted in a heartbeat,” he said, looking at nowhere in particular. “I understood why you did what you did. I could see it. She offered me a way to retaliate against you. To make me a leader so I could rein you in. Give me what you denied me in the first place.”

He turned. Eleanor was reclining her head against her fist, elbow resting on the sofa’s arm. She had a murderous stare—not directed at him, surely. He smiled.

“It makes my blood boil... that woman.” She turned to look at the door. “I don’t want to say she got karma for it, but she did.” She massaged her temple. “She destroyed, alone, what she most cherished. I’m not surprised if she wanted to execute Nicholas. It was the only move left to regain some footing after this fiasco.” She sighed again, tiredly.

His free hand rubbed her shins absentmindedly. It was over now. He wanted to forget this whole awful episode.

Then he remembered—and lifted her pajama pants to inspect her shins.

“May I ask what’s going on down there?” she asked from the other side, half amused, half confused.

“Checking for bites,” he said, turning her legs. She snorted.

“Carl... if I was bitten, I’d have the fever of the century by now. I have nothing.”

He let the matter rest—partially. “And your thigh? How did that happen?”

“The blast of the explosion must’ve broken some glass... when I came to, there was already a shard in my thigh.” She measured with her fingers. “This deep.”

It looked like ten centimeters. Maybe a little less. He flinched.

“It didn’t reach any vessel, so I was lucky,” she added.

“You’re always lucky, aren’t you?” he complained.

She hummed a giggle.

Another pause... and his memory dragged something forward again.

“What’s...” He began but hesitated. Eleanor turned to him, expectant. “What’s a hebephile?” He stumbled over the last syllables.

She sighed. “A hebephile is a person who feels sexual attraction toward adolescents. From fourteen and up. But not adults.”

He frowned, alarmed. “Are you a hebephile?”

“No. I don’t see kids that way,” she said with conviction, frowning too.

“Then why did you say you were?”

“I was self-blaming. Exaggerating for exaggeration’s sake.” She looked down, at least ashamed of it. “I’ve never seen teens like that. I... don’t see you as a teen. I’m not attracted to you because you’re a teen. Actually, I wish you weren’t a teen,” she said fast, then sighed again. “But then, I was under siege with your dad. I was exhausted. Felt displaced. We were still starting to understand what we had going on, and... my mind provided what would hurt me most.” She looked up and smiled. “One would say I’m Carlphile.” She grinned, then her smile softened as she looked at him. “What I feel for you... I’ve never felt for anyone. Never.”

He blushed, madly, and swallowed some saliva.

“We’re entering dangerous territory again,” he said, gripping her ankle. She breathed a snicker.

“Sorry.”

“I like that... Carlphile,” he grinned in turn. “That means you’ll never like anybody else.”

“Possessive, aren’t we?” she teased. His smile faltered.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” she frowned, “as long as you don’t spiral into it. Maybe I’ll make myself a T-shirt that says I’m Carlphile. Just so you can read it every time you feel jealous.”

He rolled his eyes—and Eleanor laughed.

Their conversation stopped when they felt the door opening.

Chapter Text

Rick entered—and he stopped abruptly at their sight.

Eleanor squinted, glaring, daring. His smile betrayed him, and he tried to school it away; his mouth trembled, half scowling. Michonne walked past him. She frowned—then a grin crept onto her face, and she laughed softly. She waved her hand at the air and walked off toward the kitchen.

“What the hell did you do to your hair?” he said, walking over. He stopped again when he noticed Judith, out cold in Eleanor’s arms. Rick blinked.

“I blew-dry it... it’s cold,” she justified in a whisper, motioning silently if Rick wanted to hold her.

He shook his head, waving his hand to let it be. Then he turned to Carl, and at the sight of the bandaged cut, he eased up. The old sheriff crossed to the other couch and sat down. The brief, merry moment evaporated. He reclined forward, arms resting on his knees, hands clasped.

A silence followed. Eleanor looked from one side to the other.

Rick lifted his eyebrows. “I’m going to record you like this. Okay?” He placed the tape recorder on the table.

“She’s getting recorded still?” Carl asked—confused, maybe defensive. “What was that gunfire, then?”

Rick shot a warning glare at his son.

“Is... is Nicholas—” Eleanor started, hesitant.

“There was a council,” Rick said flatly, “and they agreed. Nicholas was to be executed.”

An eerie silence fell.

“I wasn’t aware Alexandria had a death penalty,” Eleanor commented softly.

“It does now,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“How’s Tyreese?” she pressed.

“Unconscious... resting,” he corrected. “His testimony was the deciding factor for the council. Dianna ended up agreeing once she heard what Nicholas did—how he left you both behind.”

“And she believed it?” Eleanor frowned.

“I don’t know if she believed it,” Rick admitted. “But her son’s gone... mine almost did. The perspective shifted.”

Ah. He was the one who pushed for the execution, Eleanor thought. He should have started there. She doubted Dianna would’ve allowed an execution unless everyone had turned against her—or unless the Alexandrians had finally seen what their mentality was costing them.

It was a victory. A veiled one, but a victory nonetheless.

And yet... it was the moment Eleanor had to ask herself again what, exactly, she was still fighting for. What was the war? Why was she keeping tally so constantly?

“Not on the camera?” she asked again.

“Nicholas didn’t want the camera. You’re getting fair treatment,” Rick clarified.

Eleanor nodded. She turned toward Carl and caught the way he hugged her legs tighter under the covers.

“I’m staying,” he said quietly.

“Okay then,” she said, shifting for comfort. “Begin.”

Rick eyed them both and pressed the button. The small machine began moving, and Eleanor took a steadying breath.

“That morning... why did you take Nicholas?” Rick asked.

“Many factors converged. The previous party had just arrived, and managing the power down had everyone exhausted. Dianna suggested Nicholas accompany me, Tyreese, Noah, and Aiden. I didn’t want to. I wanted to take Tara or Glenn, but Dianna insisted... even changed the location I was thinking about. I was tired myself. The place Nicholas knew was closer, and we’d take less time. He could’ve drawn me a map, but I was too exhausted... I didn’t want to argue. So, I relented.”

She didn’t say she’d cried herself to sleep that day, or that she’d fought with Carl the previous night. But Carl, beside her, stilled his constant petting of her shin. A pang of guilt pressed sharp in her chest.

“How long did you take?”

“An hour... tops,” she nodded. “We climbed down, formed pairs, and made a perimeter reconnaissance. That’s how we found that behind the entrance of the warehouse, there were at least a hundred walkers beyond a very weak fence. We decided we had to be fast and prioritize blades. A plan was made.”

She paused, taking a breath.

“There were corridors of shelves. Aiden and Nicholas would each take an extreme, clearing walkers down their aisles. Once clean, we’d escort Eugene and Noah. Noah served as close protection for Eugene. Tyreese and I were to prevent the aisle from getting invaded again, and we could jump to aid Nicholas or Aiden if needed. The warehouse itself didn’t have many loose walkers. Most were behind that fence we assumed connected to the open back we’d seen earlier. It was closed... so, as long as we kept absolutely silent, we’d be okay.”

Rick nodded, lifting his eyebrows.

“What happened?”

“We found the capacitors. Eugene was only taking one, so I walked over to instruct him to take more—just in case. That’s when I heard Nicholas firing on the other side. The silencers worked well... but we’d agreed to use blades. I got worried. I instructed Eugene and Noah to get out of the warehouse, guided by Tyreese.”

“And...?”

“When I walked in, I saw Nicholas trying to fire at a soldier walker. Full gear.” Rick grimaced, shook his head, rubbed his forehead.

“Aiden wanted to tell him to use the blade, but Nicholas didn’t obey. I’d put them together for that reason, but it seemed it wasn’t helping. I decided to intervene. I had to go around the other shelf... the bullets were ricocheting everywhere. It was dangerous. For Aiden. For me.”

She paused, and a shiver ran down her back. She could remember now as little as she did then.

“I don’t remember anything... after that,” she admitted. “I try to. But my mind is blank. All I know is that when I came to, I was on the ground, between two fallen shelves. There was dust. Rubble. That’s how I understood—the soldier walker had a flamethrower, or some kind of explosive on him, and Nicholas’ bullet must’ve hit it. Luckily... the shelf that exploded crashed into the one to my right, forming a triangle of life. I managed to squeeze between the shelves. Otherwise... I was trapped.”

She crossed eyes with Carl—and she was certain that if Nicholas wasn’t dead already... he would be soon. She needed to process that.

“Where was Aiden?” Rick asked.

Silence. She swallowed as her mind painted the image too clearly: the green of the flare, Aiden. She grimaced.

“I lost my flashlight, so I broke some flares. I tried to find a way out. That’s when I found him. Far right. He was taking cover by the shelf that crashed me. I don’t know if he came out of that cover, but... he was directly against some metal tubing.” She stopped, taking a breath. “The tubes... pierced through him. All the way through. Three. One compromised the lung. He was coughing blood. Another... the spleen. The last one... the liver.”

She grimaced harder, eyes closing.

“He was conscious, but he was at least half a meter off the ground. I couldn’t lift him out of there on my own. The explosion had alerted the walkers. The fence gave in. They were already building around us. That’s how Nicholas found us.”

Another silence. Rick didn’t speak. He waited. And Eleanor steeled herself.

“I walked to him. Urged him to help me lift Aiden out.” She looked down. “Nicholas pushed me to the ground. Then gave a last look at Aiden... before walking away. I didn’t know where Tyreese was,” she added softly, and fell silent.

“Would Aiden have made it if Nicholas had helped you?”

“No.” Her voice cracked, just for a moment. She took another steadying breath. “At the time, my panic... my terror... made me believe he would. But he wouldn’t. His lung was too compromised. His spleen. His liver...” She looked down again. “The moment I pulled him out... he’d bleed to death. Minutes. Maybe less.”

“Did Nicholas know that?” Rick pressed.

“I don’t know if he did. I was never told if he had medical knowledge. But I highly doubt that was the reason. He pushed me backwards... he didn’t help me get out. The walkers surrounded us, and I got out on my own.”

“How many were there?”

“Dozens...” she said, after hesitation. “I remember I took a Glock 26. Ten shots per round.” She blinked, searching memory. “I carried three rounds... and I was halfway through the last one when I reached Tyreese. Beyond that, I also used my blade.” She let out a tired sigh. “There were a lot. My clothes were ruined. Once we were safe, I changed them.”

Carl took her hand over the blankets and squeezed it tightly. Their arms were stretched between them, and Eleanor turned, surprised at the sudden action. He looked panicked. Alarmed. She tried to smile to soothe him. Instead, he drew her knees up to his chest, like trying to hug them.

Yeah... when she said it like that, it sounded awful.

Rick cleared his throat. They both turned to him.
"How did you escape?" he asked.

She reorganized herself.
"I found Tyreese was trapped himself, and bitten on the arm. As we previously did with Hershel, I cut the arm right away to prevent the infection. However, to do so, we needed a safe space. Nicholas and Eugene had already fled, taking unconscious Noah with them, so we reached one of the trucks." She took a breath. The ire of anger was still there, but she controlled it. "Trucks are high. Enterprises often mandate all trucks have medkits, even extinguishers, and some other equipment. I found an axe and used it to cut Tyreese's lower arm. The wound was cauterized and sewn, then bandaged. I tried to see if the truck was operative... and it ignited. It even had gas. So I drove us forward until it got dark, and I stopped to take care of Tyreese and assess my own injuries. That’s how Carl, Daryl, and Michonne found us."

Rick moved to say something, to ask, but he sighed, shook his head, and stopped the recorder.

They all three fell into silence. Cold. Still. Immense.

"It is a miracle... you didn’t die out there," Rick said, his voice low, a dangerous glare directed at her. "And all because..." He turned to Carl. "You know what? This is not my fight." He stood. "Carl already talked to Dianna. The cards are on the table. He knows why you did what you did. Still... it took so much of you that we are here now... having this conversation. I hope you understand that."

"I know you care for me. And I care for you too," she answered with a smile. Pained.

The sheriff grimaced, still angered, as he let his hand fall over her shoulder.

"Go rest. Both of you. And take Judith to her crib," he said while walking to the door. "I’ll give this to Dianna now. I don’t want to see you here when I’m back... it’s late."

The door closed, leaving silence behind.

Eleanor jumped, startled, when Carl gently lifted her legs off his lap, stood, and took Judith from her arms. They crossed eyes briefly. His clear, light-blue gaze revealed nothing.

Stillness. Silence.

Her eyes danced. She swallowed. Carl climbed up without her, carrying Judith. She grabbed her blanket, folded it fast, and climbed the stairs behind him.

That angry... huh?

Well, she couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t even sure herself how the hell she’d survived. Or how Tyreese did. Tyreese... how was he now? Who was taking care of him? Was it Denise? Gods, let it be Denise. She knew Pete was a surgeon, but she didn’t trust him for a heartbeat. She was sure she’d seen him walking—no, swaying—around with a wine bottle in his hand.

She sighed again. This place was rotten. The longer they stayed here, the more the rot would reach them. But what could they do? This place had what they needed. The problem wasn’t the place. It was the people.

She huffed. Blinked up in silent panic.

Now she was thinking like Shane.

She literally jumped a foot off the ground.
"Shit!" she whispered, turning to her right.

Carl had her by her right hand, guiding her inside her room.

"You scared the hell out of me," she said, grabbing her chest with her free hand. He didn’t reply. Instead, he moved the covers and gently guided her to sit on the bed. She frowned as he lifted her legs, tucking her in.

"Carl?" she asked, confused. Worried.

He moved around the bed, repeated the same from the other side, then slid under the covers beside her. Without comment, he stretched his arms and drew her in for a silent hug, positioning her injured leg on the upper side.

She slowly returned the hug, letting her arm fall over his waist.

"I almost killed you... today," he whispered, hugging her tighter.

"No, you didn’t," she said, frowning, trying to pull back. His hold didn’t loosen. "I decided to be silent. To make you confront your emotions alone. I chose to hold the truth, even when you asked, even when you begged, even when you screamed. I chose to wake your hate if necessary, if it meant you'd grow emotionally... and socially." She looked down. "I pushed you there."

"I needed to be pushed. If not... none of this would’ve happened," he whispered, broken. His breathing hitched.

Eleanor’s heart bled at the realization: he was silently crying.

She hugged him tighter.

"I don’t care. I’ll survive a thousand hells for you. With you," she whispered against his chest. "I want you to be what you want to be. I want you to beat this world... like we promised."

She felt him huff softly over her head.

"I just want you."

Her eyes filled with tears. She sniffed.

"Don’t leave me," he whispered.

"I won’t," she answered softly.

"Don’t die before me."

"I survived a herd of walkers on my own. For you... I’ll always survive."

They stayed like that for another moment. And she no longer remembered when her eyes closed, or when sleep claimed her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rick walked down a road that, at this point, he loathed.

His mind couldn't help but replay Eleanor's words, and he shivered. He, shivering—after so much time fighting, seeing horrors, living horrors.

What Eleanor lived… brought him back. Back to a boiler, in a prison... mad with rage, blind with grief. To this day, he wasn’t sure how many walkers he’d killed. And to be frank, he hadn’t pulled that inner madness forward to its full strength ever since.

It had almost eaten him completely. What did that say about Eleanor?

How could she hold Judith? How could she keep Carl steady? How could she explain what happened, without falling again? How could she pull strength from inside, when all you want is to stop trying? It was a good thing Nicholas was dead. It was a good thing he was out of Rick’s reach.

And… it hadn’t passed over him what Eleanor was doing—instinctively, or maybe deliberately.

What he held in his hands—this testimony—would shatter what Dianna thought of herself, and what Alexandria thought of Alexandria. It had begun when Eleanor took over the runs. And even if she stepped down from that position, it wasn’t going to end.

She was playing the long run. He wasn’t sure what run, but he was sure where it ended.

Alexandria.

And for once, he resented, feared, yet respected… and even thanked that resolve.

He found Spencer on the porch, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. The young man lifted his gaze, but Rick walked past him before he could say anything, and knocked on the door.

Dianna and her husband. All already dressed in full black attire. Her gaze was tired, wary, and silently raging. She still thought she could find some bigger injustice in her son's death.

She would be humbled.

Rick didn’t say a word. He passed the recorder to her, and she took it.

“Is there a briefing that comes with it?” she said, half-sarcastically.

“No,” he grunted, and turned around, walking away.

The return was silent, even in his mind. Brief, and still cold. Rick spared a look at Jessie’s house. There was a single light on, and it was her—pacing back and forth in worry. That made him remember Pete. Her husband.

I just want us to be friends, Rick.

Eleanor didn’t trust Pete. Maybe not even Denise. Now, he had to know. He had to know everything she thought, because this was a fight she couldn’t fight alone. And this place was a plague… but a plague that must be reined in.

Because it had cost them.

They weren’t walking away.

Rick entered the house, silent. He imagined Abraham and Rosita were on watch. Tyreese was being watched by Sasha. Michonne was already resting. He looked at the living room and found it empty. He turned off the light and climbed upstairs.

He first reached his son’s room and opened the door silently.

Empty.

With a tired sigh, he walked over to Eleanor’s room. And surely enough… they were both there.

Tightly hugging each other, soundly asleep.

He shook his head, and closed the door. This once… he’ll allow it.

Then he walked to his own room, and collapsed.

As civilizations collapse after the erosion of time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dianna cleaned her tears in haste. Her husband moved to hug her, but she barely patted him before she stood and made a straight line to the door.

She heard her other son curse as she walked down, briskly pacing to the medical bay. Dianna knocked twice before Denise came to receive her.

“Dianna,” she began.

“Where’s Pete?” she asked, and entered either way. Not too far ahead was a lit room with a bright white light. She saw the bushy head of Sasha, Tyreese’s sister. Since her brother arrived, she hadn’t moved. Not even for his testimony. On another bed, sleeping but finally conscious, was the boy they’d brought in that morning—barely nineteen.

Noah had a gash on his head. He was put cold, and Eugene and me carried him away to the truck. I was returning for the others when I crossed Nicholas. He said there were none alive, and I didn’t believe him. We fought, and when I turned around, he blocked the entrance…

“Pete, may I talk to you in private for a moment?” she announced. Sasha turned to look at her, a question in her eyes, but she remained silent. The doctor walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. Then he motioned to a smaller room, his office, and illuminated it.

“How may I help?” he intoned flatly.

Dianna sat and put the recorder on the table, pointing at it, her index finger resting over it.

“I want you to hear… what is said, and tell me if it’s right,” she said, her tone serious—the only emotion she allowed to reign in her grief.

She pressed the play button.

Would Aiden have made it if Nicholas had helped you?

No. At the time, my panic… my terror… made me believe he would. But he wouldn’t. His lung was too compromised. His spleen. His liver… The moment I pulled him out… he’d bleed to death. Minutes. Maybe less.

She stopped the recording. “Do you need to hear it again?”

“Let’s start by saying what it is that I’m hearing,” he said tiredly.

“It’s her testimony. She says Aiden couldn’t be saved, and I want to know if that’s true.” Her face contorted despite her control. Her lip trembled, and she took a long, gasping breath. “She said Nicholas didn’t help her… but she also said it was futile. How could she know? I need to know the truth.”

Pete eyed the woman with a dark look. He shook his head, took the recorder, rewound it—maybe too far—and pressed play again.

I don’t know if he came out of that cover, but… he was directly against some metal tubing. The tubes… pierced through him. All the way through. Three. One compromised the lung. He was coughing blood. Another… the spleen. The last one… the liver. He was conscious, but he was at least half a meter off the ground. I couldn’t lift him—

Pete paused and forwarded the recording.

—But he wouldn’t. His lung was too compromised. His spleen. His liver… The moment I pulled him out… he’d bleed to death. Minutes. Maybe less.

He stopped once again and sighed, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. Dianna looked at him expectantly.

“The recount makes sense,” he concluded, and slid the recorder back to her, then moved to exit his office.

“I would appreciate some more information,” she said, with sarcasm. Pete, a man she’d only learned to tolerate, turned with a clear sign of spent patience.

“She’s right. Three major organs compromised. He wouldn’t have made it even to the van,” he said, letting his arms fall. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“How would she know that?” Dianna spat back.

“She’s got knowledge. The amputation on the man… out there,” he said with a spurred half-smirk, “was clean. The stitching was decent. The cauterization, rudimentary—but it prevented infection.” He grimaced, lifting a shoulder. “She came to me when they arrived, I think. Demanding to be let in the medical bay.” He snorted. “I didn’t believe her capabilities then. Now they seem legit. But… I can’t live with her attitude,” he added, condescending.

Dianna scowled, unsatisfied.

There had to be something she did wrong. There had to be a reason why Nicholas had said she abandoned them both. She’d accepted—no, been forced to accept—the people’s demands and execute Nicholas, but that didn’t mean Eleanor was forgiven. There was something else that had happened. There had to be.

Nicholas and Aiden had known each other for years. They were best friends. She couldn’t believe he’d abandoned her son. And now, thanks to Rick and the others, she hadn’t even gotten the chance to confront Nicholas with the truth.

She should have waited.

But neither Spencer, nor Reg, would have ever forgiven her.

She wasn’t ready to believe there was nothing to be done—that her son had done nothing wrong before his death—and still… he couldn’t be helped. She’d saved this man, Tyreese, from the brink of death. Why not her son?

She grabbed her face with her hands, frustrated, exhausted, almost deranged.

Pete had already walked out of his office, barely sparing her a look of pity.

The next day, two new tombs were made beside four former ones: one for Nicholas, and an empty one for Aiden. 

Chapter Text

Carl let out a yawn, his eyes puffy. Again. And yet, he felt rested. Warm. Comfortable... finally still.

Eleanor had turned around during the night, now sprawled, her face angled the other way. Most probably, she’d felt too warm at some point. His hair felt damp against the pillows, almost as if he’d gone to sleep with it half-dried after the shower.

Maybe the pajamas they wore, along with the covers they hadn't changed... and the restored heating system in the house was an unintentional overkill. His shirt clung to his skin uncomfortably. A cool cotton t-shirt was what he needed.

He stood and pulled his polar shirt up, letting it fall to the ground, searching for whatever might bring him solace. He found a small pile of clothes that looked like things Eleanor would wear. He took a random large t-shirt and pulled it on. He almost sighed audibly at the cool, dry sensation—female or male shirt be damned—and groggily climbed back into bed, pulling a foot outside for the perfect balance of temperature.

That’s when his brain started working... and he noticed the sunlight.

Too much sunlight for him to still be in her room.

Panic started anew. There was a knock on the door. He jumped, making Eleanor jerk awake beside him.

Without preamble, his father opened the door.

“You two. It’s fifteen past nine. Get up. There’s stuff to do.” He gruffed the words out flatly, then closed the door again.

Carl saw Eleanor stiffen beside him like stone.

“Did I hallucinate?”

“No,” Carl answered, just as still.

“Why are we not dead yet?” she turned toward him.

Using his elbows as support, Carl leaned in and gave Eleanor a sleepy peck on her cheek. “I’ll risk it and think he’s finally grown a conscience. Letting us be this one time because of everything that happened,” he deadpanned.

Eleanor smiled, shaking her head.

She yawned and shifted, letting her face press lightly into his hand, as if trying to curl into him. “I missed this. It’s been too long.”

Three months and two and a half weeks.

Carl let his own head rest over hers, his forehead meeting her temple.

“I don’t want to get up yet,” she complained softly.

“He’ll come back. You know that,” he whispered. “Besides. You heard him. We’ve got ‘stuff’ to do.”

“Thaaangs,” she mocked, and after a pause, both laughed at his expense.

They stood together. Carl walked out of her room and down the hall, making a point of moving in case his father was waiting just outside.

~*~

“We need to sort out what to do with the truck,” Rick gruffed, taking a bite of his pancakes.

And yes, Carl would have assumed his father woke him—and particularly Eleanor—just so she could make him pancakes. But he wasn’t about to complain. They were good. Michonne wasn’t complaining either, pouring more maple syrup over hers.

“We could dismantle it. That engine is magnificent but takes way too much gas... it won’t be functional in the long run. But the container? That could be useful.”

“It also seems that while you were gone, Abraham got in a fight?”

“Abraham, why?” asked Carl, as Eleanor sat beside him, sliding the last pancake batch onto the center plate.

“There was this man... charged with supervising the construction site.” They nodded—he meant the south expansion site. They were trying to expand Alexandria. “Walkers attacked. People panicked. A woman would’ve died if Abraham hadn’t confronted the walkers... alone. Around a dozen, maybe two.”

Well. Suddenly, a dozen didn’t sound like a challenge. Still, it left a clear message: these people knew nothing about the real world. And they were ending up overworked to cover for them—just as he’d predicted.

He truly hated this place. No. He hated its people.

“Hm. My problem with Nicholas couldn’t come at a worse moment,” Eleanor sighed. “It almost feels like three months were the perfect pressure cooker to blow everything up. What’s worse... we’ll all have to pull our heads out of our asses and arrange a meet-up.” She announced this with tiredness.

They all turned to her, expecting her to continue. Eleanor regarded each of them for a moment before swallowing and taking some watered-down box fruit juice.

“There were a lot of walkers in that warehouse. They’re no longer contained, and the explosion possibly drew more in. They’re just forty miles west... that feels close. And the gunfire,” she turned to Rick, “could attract them here.” She bit into her last pancake. “We need to organize a scouting team to assess the danger before it falls on us... and I wager it’ll have to be us,” she added, referring to their group, “considering we’ll be better protected if we go camouflaged as we know how. These people might be starting to understand the danger, but they’re not ready to meet us halfway. Not yet.”

An eerie silence followed. And Carl almost huffed, sardonic. Yet? As in, she’d make sure they would meet them halfway at some point? Would she appoint herself the mentor of everyone, letting her survival strategies take over this place?

Her ideas of survival were what had kept them all alive—and sharp—so far. Maybe it was worth the shot.

“Hm.” His father nodded, pulling another pancake. Carl moved to pull one for Ellie and one for himself, before Michonne could take the lot. He cut his in little pieces to give half to Judith.

“Pardon the detour,” Michonne asked, “but I need to know if anyone here plans to address that.”

“What?” asked Ellie.

“That,” Michonne insisted, pointing at Carl’s chin. He touched it. It ached, dully, but nothing more. Was it green? “When did that happen?”

“You mean it didn’t happen when you were coming to get me?” Eleanor asked, turning to him. He felt his face grow hot.

“It’s nothing, okay?”

“He got in a fight with Ron Anderson. And he was punched,” Rick announced.

“Excuse me?” Eleanor blinked.

“Thank you for the food,” Carl announced abruptly, standing up. “I’m going to see how Ty and Noah are doing.”

“W—whoa, wait, wait!” Eleanor stood. “Don’t think you can escape—”

“Before you go,” his father cut her off. Carl took that moment to slip away.

It didn’t last long.

“Carl!” he heard in the distance. He walked faster. “Carl Grimes!”

She ran after him and grabbed his hand. He yanked it away.

“Don’t do this again. I want to know what happened.” She frowned. “Does it hurt?”

“Look, you’re all making too big of a deal out of this. Ron—wrongly, very wrongly—assumed I was trying to take Enid from him and punched me. I didn’t escalate. I just got hit. Okay? End of story.”

He was growing increasingly uncomfortable.

“Why would he think that? Does Enid... like you?”

And there it was.

He felt his stomach go cold, and his heartbeat spike. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t like her that way.”

She caught his hand again, this time stronger. He let her turn him, though he kept his gaze down, avoiding her face.

“What exactly are you hearing right now?” she asked softly. “I’m worried. Because Enid clearly is a dear friend... and losing her over some misunderstanding isn’t worth the trouble.”

He grit his teeth. “I didn’t want you to know... that.”

She lifted her eyebrows. His anger crumbled into anxiousness.

“That I’ve... been spending time with her. A lot of time. These past months. She cheered me up. Gave me peace. While you didn’t... talk to me. And... she may have misunderstood... something.”

“But I saw her when we returned. She saw us holding hands. And she seemed okay with it,” Eleanor said quietly. “That’s not your real worry, is it?”

He glared at her, teeth clenched. “Fine. I worry you might think I’m better off starting a relationship with her. And use that as an excuse to leave me.”

He felt mortified. He didn’t want to give that thought voice. He didn’t want to hand those fears any real power. And yet, here he was. He felt stupid.

Eleanor hugged him.

He instantly started fighting her off. “Let go of me,” he warned.

“I would never leave you,” she whispered.

“Right,” he said sarcastically. “And if I told you I wanted to be Enid’s boyfriend, you’d let me, wouldn’t you.”

She gave him some space, but cupped his face. He tried to move away.

“That wouldn’t mean I stopped loving you.”

He froze. And turned to her. She was giving him a knowing smile. Then she looked down.

“I don’t say lightly that I love someone. Nor that I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. Whatever you’d want to do with your life... with or without me... I would still love you. I don’t plan to let anyone take your place in my heart. But that doesn’t mean I’d demand you stay by my side if that’s not what you want.”

She moved to hug him again. He resisted, but this time... with little strength.

“But I bet what you want to hear... is that I’m jealous. And that I want you all to myself. And that you should stay by my side...” she whispered.

A shiver ran down his spine. He blushed, deeply embarrassed.

“I know that’s what you’d do. But love...” she whispered again, and his heart skipped a beat, “we are different. We love different. And that doesn’t make it any less real.”

They parted. He glared. She giggled softly, fixing the bandage on his cheek.

“But if what you’re wondering is how to get me jealous... then, I’m afraid to tell you, I won’t be jealous over a teenager. With a teenager. You’ve lost this battle, champ.” She kissed his cheek.

“Can we let this conversation die?” he groaned, still burning with embarrassment.

She snickered. And he walked ahead.

He wanted to dig a hole.

And live in it. Forever.

They were reaching the medical bay when both saw the storm forming.

Jessie and Pete.

They were standing outside the medical bay, arguing.

Then Pete grabbed Jessie by the arm, yanking her forward forcefully. Looming over her, he whispered something in her ear.

Carl was already moving—but Eleanor grabbed his hand, hard.

He turned, alarmed, outraged, disbelieving.

“Remember how this went last time,” she said, her expression serious. Then she looped her arm around him, holding him in place. “If he does this in the open, he’s not afraid to be seen. We need to tread carefully,” she warned, motioning Carl to walk.

“Pete!” she called suddenly, her voice jolly.

Both adults jolted. Pete released Jessie with a small shove. She stepped back, recoiling, though she tried desperately to appear normal.

A pang of guilt crossed Carl’s chest.

“I was about to check on Tyreese and Noah,” Eleanor began casually, then turned to Jessie, holding her gaze—sustained, but uncomfortable. “Something’s wrong?”

Pete huffed a lopsided, condescending smirk and stepped forward. Carl felt the hairs on his neck stand on end.

One more step, and he’d bite his head off.

“Wrong about what?” Pete growled.

“I don’t know. You were arguing... maybe it’s something we can help with,” Eleanor offered, sweet smile in place but with a dangerous gaze behind it.

Carl caught Jessie looking between Eleanor, Pete, and himself. And a thought occurred to him.

“Sorry about Ron,” he said suddenly. Then he turned, angling toward Pete. “It’s about my fight with him, isn’t it?” He looked down, unsure how to feign admonishment—a foreign concept to his existence, really—so he tried embarrassment instead.

“Yes, it was that. But...” Pete chuckled darkly. “My son gave you quite the punch. Said he drew blood.” His tone was goading—the idiot. “Maybe I could give it a little look,” he added, pointing at Carl’s cheek.

Carl blinked.

“Oh! No,” Eleanor said quickly, shaking her hands nervously. “This isn’t—”

“He hit me down here.” Carl motioned to his chin. “This cut?” He pointed to his cheek. “Nicholas gave me that... when he tried to kill Eleanor.”

The admission hung in the air.

Pete shook his head and ruffled Carl’s hair. Carl bit his tongue and took it.

“You need to pick your fights better, tiger,” Pete huffed again. “You said you wanted to see Tyreese? Yeah, he’s inside. Just—don’t touch anything. I’ll be back in a moment.” He wiped the corner of his mouth and walked back toward his house.

Jessie gave them one last look before she followed him.

“Why does she—?” Carl whispered, furious.

“Shh.” Eleanor hushed him firmly. “We can’t do more now without exposing her. Let’s go to Tyreese and talk there.”

They moved toward the medical bay and found Denise arranging supplies.

“Denise. Good morning,” Eleanor greeted.

“Ah... Pete just left,” she began nervously.

Did this bastard have all women around him threatened?

“Yes. We crossed him—and Jessie,” Eleanor explained, waiting a microsecond for a reaction. Carl understood that look as she gazed intently at Denise, who grew more and more uncomfortable. “He told us to go check on Noah and Tyreese, no fuss.”

“O-oh,” Denise stammered softly. “Yeah. Come right in.”

Eleanor walked to Noah, who was awake but still bedridden. The young man hadn’t seen her since they’d separated, and at her sight, he broke down. He started heaving, and Eleanor rushed to calm him down again.

Carl figured they’d take a while talking, so he went into the other room.

There, Tyreese was sitting awkwardly, a plate of soup in front of him, eating clumsily with the hand he still had.

Carl cringed at the thought.

Sasha turned to him. She looked exhausted, yet at his sight, she smiled.

“I can watch over him. Eleanor’s here to give him a check,” Carl said. “Why don’t you go eat something... and rest a couple of hours, then come back?” he offered.

Sasha eyed him. “You’ll stay here until I return?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to do for now.”

Sasha shook her head and stood. He knew Sasha appreciated straightforwardness, so his suggestion was well received.

“Thanks, Carl,” she said, turning toward the door.

“Wait,” Carl added, and Sasha paused, glancing back. “I wanted to ask you... something.” He hesitated. The woman frowned, waiting.

“Has... Pete treated you well?”

Recognition passed through Sasha’s eyes—a fire rising to the surface. That alone told Carl everything: she knew.

“Has he—” she began, alarmed, enraged.

“No.” Carl cut her off fast. “But we saw him... with Jessie.”

Sasha frowned, looking down. “It’s not your business, Carl. I know it sounds cruel... but we won’t win this fight,” she whispered.

“I know.” He nodded, and she gave him an appreciative glance before leaving.

Carl turned to sit beside Tyreese. To Carl’s relief, the severed hand was the left. The man stayed silent, and so did he. He wondered how many times he’d been alone with Tyreese. His mind flipped back and he almost laughed when the prison came to memory.

Really? That long ago? This was awkward.

“Where’s Eleanor?” Tyreese croaked.

“Outside. Walking. Plotting to conquer the world,” Carl answered dryly, and Tyreese let out a soft cackle. “She’ll pass by once she’s caught up with Noah.”

“Where’s Eugene?”

Carl lifted his eyebrows. “No idea, man. After he caved... he’s been like mist. And with reason.” Carl blew out a breath. “How long have you been awake?”

“Just now,” Tyreese croaked again, twisting in pain. His eyes landed on the stump of his arm—and he looked away quickly.

“It’s all ended,” Carl said quietly. “Nicholas was executed.”

Tyreese looked down and nodded, satisfied. Carl held back his surprise.

“He would’ve left Eleanor to die.” Tyreese grimaced. “These people... don’t care for us.”

Carl sighed. Of course. Given their experience in Woodbury, this would strike Tyreese on a particular raw nerve. Gods, I need to stop doing that, Carl thought, flinching inwardly.

“It’s not all of them. It’s Dianna... and her family. And Pete. And their close followers,” Carl said. “They’ve got it in for Elle now. We need to keep both eyes open. Look for clues.”

Tyreese looked at him, half surprised. “That’s a fight for adults.”

Carl grinned. “Yeah? Say that with more conviction next time.” He jerked his chin toward the bowl. “Eat. Or I’ll feed it to you.”

Tyreese spared him a glare, then, with a sigh of defeat, set the spoon aside and picked up the bowl, drinking the soup like it was a cup.

“It’s good to see you in such high spirits,” Eleanor commented with a smile as she entered the room. “I saw Sasha leave. She said you’d take her place.”

Her smile softened as she looked at him, and Carl felt himself blush.

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “You’ll have a meeting about the walkers soon, won’t you? I’ve got no place there as it is. And… I wanted to keep myself occupied.”

“It’s truly kind of you.” She turned toward Tyreese. “And you—you’ll be well entertained and well supervised. I can read the question in your eyes.” She stepped closer, checking his arm. “Has Pete treated you… or Denise?”

Tyreese was about to answer but stopped, giving Eleanor a look. To Carl, that was all the confirmation he needed.

“He came by once or twice to bark some orders. But once he saw your work, he left,” Tyreese gruffed, lifting his eyes. “And I was glad for it.”

“A certain smell reached your nostrils?” she asked with a conspiratorial smile.

“Are you asking because you know, or because you want to know?” he replied, tone warning.

“I want to confirm,” she answered, all innocent.

“This is a dangerous affair, Eleanor,” Tyreese warned. “You defied that woman’s son. Look where it got us. Now you’ll mess with her doctor too?”

Tyreese’s fear wasn’t just justified—it was shared. Still, Carl knew: the moment she stepped in front of Pete, she’d committed. It reminded him of Terminus. She was decided. And once Eleanor Sherry decided something… there was no stopping her. Only clearing the path.

“All the more reason we meddle,” she said softly, letting his arm fall and pulling another chair to sit beside Carl. “When we arrived, they asked about our experience, our manpower—this.” She tapped her temple. “They weren’t aware of what they were asking for. But that doesn’t mean we’ll fail to deliver now… does it? We care for Alexandria. This place is special. It’s nothing like we’ve ever seen before. And we need to protect it—and its people—from danger. Shouldn’t we?”

She smiled then.

Denise must be nearby, Carl realized. Eleanor was speaking in riddles.

Tyreese seemed to notice too. He shot her a reproving scowl, then shook his head.

“What’s this thing about the walkers?”

“We know what sound can do in a world like this,” she reminded him—or perhaps explained to whoever might be listening beyond the door. “The sound of that explosion was loud. Not only would it have drawn the walkers from the warehouse, but maybe even ones from the outskirts of Washington. A herd is coming. I’m sure of it. We just don’t know if it’s now, or in a couple of days. But we need to do something before it becomes a problem.”

She paused.

“I’ll talk to Dianna. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Tyreese raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Elle. Last night…” He hesitated, looking down. “She listened to my testimony like she couldn’t believe it. Like I was covering for you. He abandoned us to die!” he growled, rage rising. “And she would’ve painted us as culprits if she could. I know that.”

“She’s grieving,” Eleanor said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. Tyreese lifted his gaze, eyes wide, surprised, confused.

“She doesn’t mean it. You have to understand—Aiden was her son. And justice doesn’t bring him back. We have to try. If we don’t… this place will be lost. And his tragedy along with it.”

What did Eleanor show him, Carl wondered, that Tyreese calmed? The man steadied, nodded.

Then she turned. Looked at Carl.

That gaze.

The same one she had when she wanted to blow up Terminus. Sharp. Cold. Decided.

He knew it.

Carl stood. And just as he opened the door, Denise stood nearby with her back turned, busying herself—but clearly close enough to listen.

He smiled faintly, then glanced at Tyreese, who frowned at both of them with a suspicious, almost accusatory look.

Carl lifted his shoulders in a helpless little shrug, whispering:

“It’s showtime.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eleanor walked out of the medical bay, leaving Carl tending to Tyreese. She headed down to the house of the Monroes. Luckily for her, it wasn’t too far away.

How did one even come to call forth the council?

“Eleanor,” she heard someone call. She turned.

Denise was hurrying to catch up from the medical bay. She looked down, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“It’s alright,” Eleanor assured her with a sweet smile.

“Is it true? There are walkers coming?” Denise asked nervously.

Eleanor sighed, worried. “Right now, I can’t know for sure. But we’ve encountered this problem before. Sound attracts walkers from far away, and once they cumulate... I’ve yet to see any kind of walls that can withstand a herd of walkers.” She shook her head. “If we wait until they’re close, we’ll be too late. Even to evacuate. We’ll be trapped, or worse.”

She took a breath and forced a small smile. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. I was thinking of offering to form a scouting party, to know if they’re close, or moving, or herding. That way, we’ll make informed decisions.” She hesitated. “I was actually wondering... how does one go about calling the council and explaining this problem?”

Eleanor waited for a reaction—a negative one. Sure enough, Denise’s face fell.

“Dianna’s the one who calls for the council. You’d have to talk to her directly.”

“Then I know the way. Thank you, Denise,” Eleanor said, turning to leave. “And... thank you for taking care of Tyreese and Noah. They’re far better now... thanks to you.”

Denise smiled and gave a small wave as she walked back into the medical bay.

Eleanor walked down the road and thought to herself that truly... if Denise were to take Pete’s place, it wouldn’t be too bad. She was hopeful. She was kind. And she was, at least, an asset for the community.

Unlike Pete... who liked to go around strangers’ houses half-drunk, bottle of wine in hand, asking menacingly for people to stay off his property—meaning, Jessie.

Or at least, that’s what Rick had told her, when he’d stopped her after breakfast.

Be careful with Pete. He’s abusive. I’ve talked to Dianna about this before... but she said he was the surgeon and he was needed to save lives. They’ll do nothing.

She’d been fairly surprised Rick would confide that to her all of a sudden. But maybe, after recent events, he was ready to consider her leadership more seriously. That, for her, was a plus. She needed loyal allies.

Again, she wondered... what war was she fighting? What did she really want to achieve?

No. There was no longer any need to wonder. She knew what she wanted.

She wanted to end this senseless charade. She wanted the Alexandrians to wake up to the world they lived in. She wanted them to start making sacrifices. To start behaving as a community in the apocalypse should behave.

No hypocrisy. No authoritarianism. No passive obedience that could exclude them from bad decisions later.

All must move. All must pull their weight for a better world.

Because she had been sacrificing for people like Eugene—unwilling to do anything for themselves. Content with the fact people died in the name of their peace.

Not again.

What are you willing to sacrifice for Alexandria?

Carl had been right when he asked her that.

This place demanded sacrifice. But it wasn’t going to be from her, from her family, or from her friends.

She had to make them understand.

That was her war. Dianna had said it plainly enough: the war of perception.

This wouldn’t have happened if Dianna had listened. If she’d accepted their leadership when it was offered. Maybe... what Dianna needed now was some gentle maneuvering.

And Pete’s situation was a perfect starter.

After all, it was confirmed that his rot was nothing more than an open secret.

Chapter Text

Eleanor knocked once before the door swung open to reveal Spencer Monroe. His eyes were bloodshot, his face gaunt and tired.

She felt a sting of pain—regardless of her thoughts, their grief was real.

"You," he growled, recognizing her. His expression shifted from sorrow to rage.

Eleanor instinctively took a step back.

"Spencer," she began, raising a hand in peace.

It only fueled his anger. He stepped forward.

"Get out!" he bellowed. "You are not welcome in this house!"

"Spencer, I need to talk to Dianna," she raised her voice, stepping back onto the stairs.

She tripped on the last step when Spencer shoved her, but she didn’t fall. She raised both hands in surrender.

"You must be fucking mad if you think you’ll get to talk to my mother again!"

"Spencer—"

They both froze.

Dianna stood on the porch, her face drawn, her son’s rage reflected in her own—but hers was colder. Her eyes weren’t on Eleanor or Spencer.

Spencer’s outburst had drawn attention. Bystanders were watching now. Carl, Denise, and others stood nearby, their eyes full of judgment.

Eleanor sighed. This wasn’t the drama she wanted—at least, not so soon.

"I am... truly sorry. I understand you don’t want to see my face..." she began, her voice heavy with guilt, "but I must speak with you. It’s important. And it can’t wait." She paused. "Please."

"...Come inside," Dianna said after a long silence, turning toward the door. Spencer stood, still glaring. Eleanor knew better than to respond.

She stepped in and saw Reg, Dianna’s husband, seated on the couch.

"What’s your business here, miss?" he said sternly. "If you’re here to give condolences, we don’t want them. You can—"

"I know what you mean, and I accept and respect it—but this is not about that," she cut him off firmly, turning to Dianna.

The woman, exhausted in every sense, gestured absently to the empty sofa. Eleanor sat.

"Walkers move based on certain senses depending on their decay. Sound and smell are most prominent. If sound travels far enough, it attracts them. I've seen it firsthand." She paused as Dianna sat beside Reg, confusion etched on her face. "My concern is... the warehouse explosion may attract a herd toward us. We need to divert it before it reaches us."

"The warehouse was forty miles away," Dianna said with a tired blink. "How would they know to come here?"

"They won’t know—they’ll just follow the path of least resistance," Eleanor explained. "There’s been gunfire, too. That could work against us. And..."

"Gunfire caused by Rick," Reg cut in. "When he killed Nicholas."

Eleanor exhaled. "We all make mistakes—even among our own. He knows that. He’s as worried as I am. There were hundreds of walkers surrounding Washington. It’s not far. Even if only a fraction reach us, the walls could fall—"

"The walls won’t fall," Reg interrupted, hand to chest. "I designed them. They’ve held for five years."

"Have you ever had a herd press against them?" Eleanor asked, her tone turning grave. "Have they had constant maintenance? We can't risk it. I've seen walkers tear down fences one after another. And even if they don’t come tomorrow... it could take days. People might forget, think it’s no big deal. That kind of thinking could be fatal."

"What do you want?" Dianna asked, her voice harder now. "You’ve made it clear you think you know better. What do you want?"

Eleanor grit her teeth. She expected this resistance—but she’d hoped, however foolishly, to be taken seriously.

"I want to call the council," she said plainly. "To explain the situation, and propose a small team go out and scout. If the threat is real, we’ll need everyone’s cooperation to divert the herd away from Alexandria. My group alone won’t be enough. Everyone needs to understand what’s at stake."

"You don’t need the council for that. You see that directly with me," Dianna replied, part reluctant, part agitated.

"They need to know," Eleanor warned. "If the herd does pass by, we’ll have to be completely silent. And even then, there could be break-ins. We’ll need to ration supplies. No panic. No mistakes. And hearing them outside the walls—it will be terrifying."

"We’ll consider your request," Dianna said, standing. "You can start by scouting. If the threat’s real, I’ll summon the council."

"There’s another matter I’d like to bring to the council," Eleanor added. "But first, I want to discuss it with you. In private."

Reg bristled, standing protectively.

"Reg, it’s okay," Dianna said.

"I’m not leaving you alone with her," he replied, eyes narrowed.

"Believe me, Rick didn’t want me coming alone, either. But I’m here. I won’t hurt Dianna, if that’s what you’re implying," Eleanor said, glaring now, genuinely offended.

"Reg," Dianna repeated, and he relented—stepping outside with Spencer, though not without casting a warning glance.

A heavy silence fell.

"Pete," Eleanor began.

Dianna’s frown confirmed it. She knew.

"And by your reaction, I see you know he hits Jessie."

"He’s a surgeon. He’s saved lives—Tyreese, Noah—"

"No, he hasn’t," Eleanor cut in. "I checked with Sasha, Tyreese, and Noah himself. Their recoveries were thanks to Denise. Not Pete. In fact, Pete had the gall to treat Tyreese while drunk."

Dianna went pale. Her expression unreadable.

"Pete is not an asset, Dianna. He’s a liability. One that could cost us everything." Eleanor’s eyes burned. "He’s costing Jessie everything right now."

"You don’t know what you’re talking about. You just got here."

"Which means this has been happening since the start!" Eleanor shot back. "I’m surprised Jessie trusts you at all. Her son got into a fight with Carl over a friend and punched him. Is that normal behavior? Sam doesn’t talk to anyone but his mom. He’s isolated. Is that normal?"

She didn’t hold back anymore.

"And Jessie—what will you do when Pete leaves her one breath away from death?"

Eleanor’s fury ignited, the same kind she’d felt back at that creek near Atlanta, when she took a punch meant for Carol and Sophia.

"You said you wanted a community. A real one. One that survives together. Well, this kind of hypocrisy? It’s not tolerated with us. We are all family now. We’re all we’ve got—and we don’t turn a blind eye to cruelty like this. If there’s no trust, no protection, no accountability—then there is no hope."

"And what do you suggest we do?" Dianna scoffed, her sarcasm brittle. "Execute him like we did Nicholas? I doubt Pete will sit down for a chat about his marriage."

"First," Eleanor said, lifting her eyebrows, "we need to let Jessie know she’s not alone. Then we extract her from Pete’s side and keep her protected. That will only work if the entire community supports her. The council needs to lead that effort."

"How about we deal with the herd first?" Dianna said with a dry smile. "It is pressing, isn’t it?"

Eleanor inhaled slowly. "I won’t leave Alexandria until the council is called. If something happens, Dianna, we’ll survive. You know that. But you?"

Dianna’s eyes widened, her face contorting in fury.

"Get out," she hissed.

Eleanor didn’t budge. Come on, she thought. Chase me out again.

"Reg!" Dianna called, and within seconds, Reg and Spencer burst in.

"What are you doing to my mother!?" Spencer yelled.

Eleanor stood firm.

"You’re the leader of Alexandria, Dianna. You can’t cower like this just because you don’t like what I’m saying!"

So be it.

"Get out!" Spencer shouted, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the porch.

"No! Spencer, stop!" Dianna shouted as he went to throw Eleanor out.

Eleanor grabbed the doorframe, resisting. Dianna approached her, shaking her head with a sneer—tired and cynical.

"I’ll call the council. Tomorrow morning," she muttered. "Now leave. And stop making a scene."

Eleanor huffed in disbelief. Her making the scene? They were the ones handing her the handle.

"Thank you for understanding, Dianna," she said, lifting her chin. "Is 9 a.m. alright for you?"

"Fine."

"Good," Eleanor said with a small, pointed smile. "Now, please excuse me."

She turned and walked away. The people who had gathered slowly dispersed. She held her composure until she reached the medical bay.

There, Denise and Carl were waiting—expectant, worried, frightened.

Eleanor sighed, offering a small apologetic smile as she passed them and returned to her house.

Denise’s expression told her everything she needed to know.

It had begun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, how did it go?"

Carl looked from his plate of food to Michonne, then to Eleanor. She gave an ample, jolly smile—he could even see her eyes shining.

"Very well."

"That's not what I heard outside," Michonne warned, surprised.

Eleanor folded her elbows and intertwined her fingers, resting her chin on them, her pretty, cheeky smile daring, happy, teasing. Carl shook his head, smiling.

"What did you hear, exactly? I want to know."

"That you demanded to talk to Dianna about a herd of walkers that could kill us. That Dianna talked to you until a discussion erupted..." Michonne frowned. "That you were chased out of her house like a criminal."

"Hm... that's it?" Eleanor pouted.

"Eleanor," Rick warned. He eyed her elbows, and she looked away, setting them down.

"I'm not a kid," she complained.

"Then behave like an adult." He took another bite. "Has the council been called?"

"She said she would, tomorrow at nine. If she doesn't, I'm marching to her door again," she said, almost self-righteous. "The longer she stalls, the worse it'll get."

"Why don't we just scout and leave the rest?" Michonne said with a tired sigh.

"Because..." Eleanor began, "I don't want to hear anything about this menace not being real, or that we aren't allowed to act, or that we should take care of the herd on our own... nothing, Michonne." She glared. "These people need to learn—the freeway or the highway—that their survival depends on them as much as ours depends on us." She took another bite. "I'm sick and tired of hearing that we’re an asset, that we're a resource, that we’re valuable when all they do is push us forward while we clean their shit."

Carl snorted and almost choked on his food. He coughed a couple of times and took a sip of water, more snickering following as he tried to school away his smile while wiping his face.

"This isn't funny," Michonne said in admonishment, eyeing the teenager. "And you—who are you and what did you do with Eleanor Sherry?"

"She's here... just letting her inner thoughts win for a change," Eleanor said, sipping her water.

"If this is you on the inside... who have I met for three years?" Michonne frowned, confused.

"Me still. Just trying to be nicer," Elle corrected.

"I wish I could say that’s not true, but this is Atlanta all over again," Rick added.

"Hey," Eleanor said, offended. "When did I behave like this in Atlanta?"

"You tore down a dozen walkers while we were getting the guns."

"That's expected," she countered.

"You confronted Ed Peletier. Got punched. Then confronted Jim about doing nothing while Carol was abused, and technically got yourself kicked out by him because of it," Rick insisted.

"Who told you this?" Eleanor squinted.

"Andrea."

"Little shit," she whispered, in disbelief.

"And then you told my wife that she couldn’t protect Carl with what little she knew how to do," Rick said, eyeing Eleanor.

She blushed crimson.

"Who told you that?"

"My wife," Rick said flatly, as if it were obvious. Eleanor blinked into space, realizing she'd been betrayed from the beginning.

"It’s high time Carl knew," Rick added.

"I already knew. I heard it all," Carl countered, also offended. "And sorry to Mom, but Elle was right."

"Then... we have the CDC. And the problem with the walkers in the barn."

Rick was religiously trying to avoid saying Shane’s name, wasn’t he?

"Okay, I think we've got a point here," Eleanor warned.

"The Governor too. Eleanor was the one to headshot six of his men. Not us," Michonne interjected.

Carl couldn’t take it anymore. He started snickering for good.

"Well, it's clear I've been this unhinged from the start. Thank you. Thank you very much," Eleanor said sarcastically. "All the more reason to let me do this, don’t you think? I know what I’m doing."

"Okay then. Let’s hypothetically map this out so we act fast once the council is called," Rick said, taking a sip of his water. "Who’s going, how they’re going, what they’re doing."

He eyed Eleanor—and him. Carl sat up straight.

"I'm going with Eleanor," he announced.

His father turned to regard Michonne and gave a sardonic smile. "And Michonne?"

"The fact I let you go the other day doesn’t mean you’re now allowed to leave Alexandria every time you want," Rick said, his anger barely contained.

"We’re going to use camouflaged clothes, are we not? From us, the only ones who know how, and how to stomach it, are you," Carl began, signaling his father, "me, Elle, Glenn, Carol—which won’t go out, you ought to know—and maybe Daryl."

"What about me?" Michonne asked, dejected.

Carl raised his eyebrows. "You’re going to smear your clothes with walker guts without complaint?"

Michonne gave him a bored look. "You forget how Andrea found me."

"Touché," Eleanor said. "Michonne can also do it... and I’m dying to see Abraham do it too."

Rick shook his head, smirking, and Michonne rolled her eyes.

"Four parties," Rick nodded. "Two each." He signaled to Carl. "You can go—but you go with me."

"Fine," Carl said, raising his eyebrows.

"Eleanor and Daryl," Rick continued.

"Cool," Eleanor said. "We work well together."

"Michonne and Glenn," Rick said. Michonne nodded.

"Abraham and..." He stopped.

Carl also ran through the people available. Sasha wasn’t moving. He didn’t think Tara had the stomach for that. Tyreese and Noah were down. Carol was a no.

"Maggie," Carl provided. "She’s the one we’ve got left."

"Maggie will want to go with Glenn," Rick said with a scowl.

"I can go with Abraham. That way Michonne goes with Daryl, and you go with Carl," Eleanor suggested.

All three turned to her.

"You and Abraham? Are you insane?" Michonne asked, frowning.

"I’m perfectly sane. He’s changed! You saw him—he likes me now," Eleanor said cheerfully.

"As long as your butting heads don’t attract the walkers to you," Rick warned.

Eleanor glared at him.

Someone knocked on the door. Carl stood to open.

Carol.

He lifted his eyebrows and stepped aside. Carol entered with a small smile, hands folded, almost meekly.

Eleanor squinted.

“Sorry to interrupt your lunch, but I was hoping to talk to Eleanor.”

Eleanor gestured to herself and smiled. She stood immediately.

“Yes! Of course.” She glanced around her. “Maybe you can invite me for a cup of tea, and one of your cookies—I’m obsessed.”

Carol gave a little laugh and walked out with Eleanor.

“That’s... sus,” Carl commented to his father once they were alone.

“Yeah,” he croaked, continuing to eat. “Last time those two talked, they blew up Terminus.”

Carl didn’t smile. Carol was a delicate subject. He didn’t mind if she left—sometimes he wanted her to. It stung at his heart because since Ed and Sophia died, she hadn’t been herself.

She hasn’t been well. She’s been... erratic. Sometimes ruthless like him, sometimes feigning feebleness like Eleanor. It felt as if she drifted, like a boat without a paddle, bumping into one shore and then another.

He rubbed his head, now realizing he was starting to think in useless riddles like Eleanor.

“I’m going to search for Mike and Enid. I want to know how Ron’s doing,” he announced and walked out. His father didn’t protest, and Carl saw Eleanor enter the kitchen of the other house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m all ears,” Eleanor began, as Carol set a kettle on to boil.

The woman turned slowly and sat.

“I’ve heard around... you confronted Pete.”

Eleanor huffed. “Confronted’s a strong word,” she replied. “We were going to the medical bay with Carl when we saw Pete manhandling Jessie. I simply intervened, and defused the tension.”

“Not effectively enough. I heard them shouting behind closed doors,” Carol said, giving her a grave stare.

Eleanor sighed.

“Have you ever blamed me for what happened to Ed?”

Carol remained impassive. After a moment, she spoke.

“Yes... and no.” She looked down. “Everyone just... didn’t meddle. And I didn’t internalize that until you said it out loud. All of them did nothing, none except Shane... and you. And when he beat Ed up, I felt angry, but also terrified, thinking of what Ed would do to me once he recovered.” She smiled brightly. “He never did.”

Eleanor felt uncomfortable and shifted in her seat.

“And I wonder what would’ve been if Ed was alive. Would he have protected Sophia?” She frowned, eyes filling with tears she didn’t shed. Then she shook her head. “No. He wouldn’t have. He would’ve blamed me... while I blamed you.”

“It was my fault. To this day, I know that,” Eleanor said, frowning. “Back then I wished to believe it wasn’t, but it was. I can’t ask forgiveness for that.”

Carol huffed, letting out a patient smile, blinking slowly.

“And that’s why I can trust telling you this now. Because you never escape from the truth, even when you don’t say it aloud.”

Her gaze turned dark.

“You can’t let Pete hurt Jessie any further.”

Eleanor felt a squeeze in her chest.

“I know you’re moving against him. And I want to know what needs to be done... to move things forward.” Carol’s gaze was filled with cold, murderous intent—the same kind Eleanor hadn’t known how to read when Carol killed and burned Karen.

“We can’t rush,” Eleanor warned softly. “But if I can trust you’ll help me...”

“I know what terror Jessie’s living. I won’t stand by,” Carol said, her voice low.

Eleanor smiled.

“Have you taken a visit to Pete yet?”

“Once. I was asking for Sam, and his knuckles were slightly bloodied. That’s how I knew,” she said, her voice tight with distress. “The words, the same look.”

“Have you tried again?”

“I’ve tried to give food, casseroles, tried to get a hold of Jessie, but he won’t let me.”

“Then... let’s rattle him out,” Eleanor said seriously. “Pete’s a drunkard. I’ve seen him carrying bottles of wine. Dianna knows that’s going on, so that means he’s got access to the pantry for it. When he goes to restock, you can corner him. Scare him a little...” Eleanor studied Carol. “You up for that?”

Carol smiled. “What should I say?”

“Well, he neglects his work. Denise is a better doctor than he’s ever been. He’s scared I’ll get into the medical bay and displace him—me. I’ve got no formal medical training, and yet, here we are.” Eleanor smiled sweetly. “Jessie’s sweet, kind. She doesn’t deserve a man like him. And neither do his sons deserve a father like him.” She fixed her gaze on Carol. “Don’t go unarmed.”

“Never,” Carol answered.

The kettle boiled, and Carol poured them both tea.

“What’ll happen to Jessie?”

“Pete’s backed by Dianna. I went to talk to her today and proposed we corner Pete and extract Jessie and the kids from that house. I was going to suggest one of ours as a safe haven. But without the council’s support... we’d shoulder the fight alone. That can’t happen. We’ll be blamed as subversive,” Eleanor explained.

Just as it happened with Shane.

“It has to be a collaborative effort. If everyone looks at Pete for what he is, he’ll coward his way out of the discussion. That’s how we manage Pete.” She let out a sigh. “We can’t get rid of him so cleanly. Nicholas just died recently—it’ll feel like a witch hunt. So, keeping him isolated will be the best option for now.”

Carol served cookies onto a plate. Eleanor took a sip of her tea, then a bite of the cookie—and she moaned softly, taking another bite immediately after.

“What if the council stalls?”

“Then... we bait. Something similar to what happened at the lake, but...” She hesitated, then offered Carol a saddened smile. “I don’t want Jessie near. He’ll think he can get to her instead of us, and she’ll try to defend him out of fear.”

Carol frowned. The sorrow reached her eyes, though she tried to mask it.

“He’ll make a fool of himself. And if it comes to that... I trust Rick will be the one to protect Jessie. He’s the most concerned... as it is.” Eleanor took another sip of her tea.

“More than concerned,” Carol added, looking down with a complicit smile.

Eleanor’s eyes widened slightly, her mouth parting. Really? She hadn’t seen it. Then again, he was alone, Jessie was kind... she had a gentle air around her and... of course. The months had passed. She still remembered how Jessie smiled at Rick at the party.

But somehow, she felt a sorrow she couldn’t name, that Rick looked at Jessie and not... someone else. Someone closer.

Well. It is what it is.

“My, what a turn of events.” Eleanor lifted her eyebrows. “I’ll hint tomorrow at the council that all liabilities need to be managed. That if someone knows of a violent, dangerous person that needs to be assessed, they should step forward to tell me.” She narrowed her gaze. “If they don’t catch the bait, once we scout for walkers, I’ll address Pete’s problems directly in the briefing.”

“I’ll try to contact Jessie again,” Carol said. “With Tyreese in the medical bay, Pete can’t be hiding around his house twenty-four seven.”

“Well said.”

Eleanor and Carol finished their tea in silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Text

It was ten minutes to nine, and he walked down beside Eleanor. As promised, Dianna had called forth the council to discuss the problem of walkers.

And possibly the problem of Pete.

He couldn't say he was indifferent to Jessie. She was kind, funny, beautiful—and a good mother to her two sons: Sam and Ron. She made him remember Lori, in a way he thought he couldn’t anymore, in a way he never expected to connect with someone again. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to act—for many reasons. First, because she was married, and he respected that.

He would’ve never guessed that Pete was that kind of man. At least, not until he came by half-drunk, asking to be ‘friends.’ If he had ever seen a sloppier claim of territory, he’d be surprised.

And yet, Rick decided not to meddle—not because it was dangerous, but because there were two people who would complain about the recklessness of the act. One of them was already walking beside him. Rick was no fool. Eleanor was perceptive. And when he talked about Pete, he didn’t see alarm in her eyes.

He saw recognition.

Be careful, Rick. Ask yourself how this looks—because if we’re going to help, it’ll be because she deserves to be saved. Not for you to get in the picture.

She had rattled him. But he couldn’t hold it against her. He didn’t have the nerve.

She was right. He wasn’t doing this just so Pete would be out of the way.

He was doing it because he cared.

Because Jessie deserved it.

“Have you talked to Jessie?” Eleanor asked suddenly, giving him a little look.

And there it was.

Rick swallowed and grimaced, nodding.
“Yeah…”

“Yeah? How is she?” she pressed.

“Someone destroyed her owl,” he answered, and Eleanor frowned. “A metal sculpture she made with Sam. They want to find the culprit, but I think we already know who it is.”

“And nothing else?”

He stopped, growing more annoyed.
“Look, I’m not gonna talk to you about this—”

“And I’m not gonna stop reminding you why we’re doing this,” Eleanor cut in, just as fed up. “I don’t want any surprises, Rick. We’re doing this to save Jessie and her kids. But if you can’t separate your feelings from your duty, don’t intervene—because this looks ugly. And nostalgic.” She smiled, dangerously.

Nostalgic? Rick frowned, glancing around, trying to understand what she meant.

Then memory struck him. A memory he so desperately wished to cast away but couldn’t. A memory that brought him pain—immense regret, and consuming guilt. But also rage. A rage that awakened in him a madness he thought long buried.

He flared his nostrils, towering over her.

“I can gently talk you through this, but we haven’t got the time,” she said seriously. “We lived that together. And at the time, I said nothing because I thought it had nothing to do with me. I won’t make the same mistake. This has everything to do with me now—because it involves Judith and Carl. And by extension... me,” she emphasized. “You know how you could look right now, right?”

“Don’t go there,” Rick warned.

“Then don’t take me there,” she insisted. “We’re taking care of the scouts first. Then we’ll handle Pete. You have until then to think about it. Okay, cowboy,” she said, and stepped away.

He could see the group of people in the distance. His people were already there—including Carol. Rick sniffed, combed his hair back, and walked faster to catch up to... who refused to stop being his voice of conscience.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’ve all been gathered here at the request of a member who has proven her grit, strength, and knowledge of survival,” Dianna began. “She wishes to relay a concern to us now.”

She turned to Eleanor, who nearly rolled her eyes at the grand presentation.

Grit, strength… She could still remember how she’d been chased out of her house just yesterday morning. And she was willing to bet everyone else remembered too.

“I’ll be direct,” she began, not wanting to follow Dianna’s style. “Walkers—whether you’ve had the opportunity to witness it or not—are drawn to sound over great distances. The explosion at the warehouse two days ago poses a grave danger. There were hundreds of walkers inside that building, and we saw hundreds more surrounding Washington before we arrived here.

“Though the warehouse is forty miles from Alexandria, the roads leading to its doors are clear—an easy path to draw them in. That volume of walkers could be too much for the fences to handle. They could tear them down. This might happen weeks from now—or just days. I can’t guarantee we’ll survive with brute force alone, not in so little time. So something must be done.”

She glanced around. Everyone was listening.

“That's why I called the council: to propose an action plan.

“We need to assess whether the walkers are heading our way and how far they’ve gotten. That means estimating how long we have before they arrive. It’s a dangerous scouting mission, but we—” she looked to Rick, Michonne, and the rest of their group “—will take it on. We’ll report back, and if the worst is happening, we’ll all need to coordinate a diversion.”

A hand raised. Eleanor blinked as the man stepped forward—a Black man with square glasses.

“I’m Heath,” he said. “I was part of the runs team before your group took over.”

And then forfeited, apparently. She’d never spoken to him directly. “Hello, Heath. Go on.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” he asked. “Or that your estimates aren’t exaggerated? Shouldn’t someone outside your usual group go with you—just to vouch for your findings?”

Council members murmured among themselves. Eleanor resisted the urge to glare.

This guy, Heath. First, he questioned her sincerity. Then he sounded like he was trying to protect it. It didn’t feel performative—if anything, it was even blunter than her.

He’d be hard to convince of anything he didn’t see firsthand. A biblical Thomas. And she was already tired.

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t want to endanger anyone inexperienced. But if there are volunteers—people who can face walkers directly without panicking—we’ll consider them for the parties.”

“Myself,” Heath said immediately. “And Scott. We’ve scavenged big cities for days at a time. We can handle it.”

“I’m going too.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened. A gentle face she hadn’t seen in a while stepped forward, and her gaze softened.

“Aaron,” she smiled, “I appreciate the sentiment, but—”

“I can be tough,” he nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

“Okay,” she nodded slowly. “We had four parties planned. Three out of four seems reasonable. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The council nodded. Dianna motioned for a vote, and nearly every hand went up.

“Thank you for the trust you place in us,” Eleanor continued. “When we arrived, our intent was to share what we knew with you—to help you learn to survive.

“Many things have happened since then—some unpleasant. But the truth is, many of them can be prevented.

“We were thirteen when we came to Alexandria. And we’re still thirteen. Not because we’re tough or good with weapons. But because we’re honest with each other. We know our limits, our shortcomings, our demons… but also our strengths.

“It’s better to address a problem before it arises than wait for it to explode—and we can do that together, peacefully.

“I’m deeply sorry for what happened with Aiden and Nicholas. Aiden was brave, earnest, and concerned. Nicholas panicked… and let that panic dictate everything that came after. I don’t want to live through that again. And I don’t want any of you to either.

“So please—if something seems like a problem, don’t hesitate to tell us. We’ll work through it together.”

Dianna gave her a pointed look before stepping forward again.

“I’m sure they will. Council is dismissed.”

She turned back to Eleanor as some members dispersed. “You’ll take the scouting parties now?”

“Now,” Eleanor confirmed. “It can’t wait any longer.”

She turned, and Rick nodded before heading off to prepare the others.

Heath, Scott, and Aaron approached her.

“It’s been a while, Mr. Aaron the Salesman,” she said as she pulled him into a hug. “I thought you lived inside the walls.”

“No, I… share a small cot with Eric near the outskirts. Easier to scout,” his smile faltered. “I’m sorry… about Nicholas.”

“I am too,” she replied with a strained smile. Understatement of the century.

“How’s Eric?”

“Great. Walking around, asking for you,” he sighed. Eleanor laughed. “He wants you to try his homemade pasta. We got a noodle machine.”

“Then I can’t refuse,” she said with a soft smile. She turned to the others.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Heath. Though… you might hate me for what I’m going to ask of you soon,” she added apologetically.

“How bad can it be?” he asked, completely serious.

Eleanor turned to Aaron. “Do we have any spare old bed sheets no one uses? About six?”

~*~

"What took you so long?"

Eleanor lifted her gaze at Carl. He looked eager, jumpy… like a puppy who’d been promised a walk and was now anxiously waiting for it.

"I was organizing the people of Alexandria who will come with us," she announced.

Carl frowned.

"Heath, one of them, suggested we take one Alexandrian with each of the three scouting parties, so they can vouch for our findings. And I find that suggestion very clever—and welcome. It means they’re meeting us halfway."

"Okay... who’s coming?" he asked, just as Rick passed by, handing out jackets and pulling small satchels with provisions. Only the weapons were missing now.

"Aaron," she began.

Carl rolled his eyes.

"Scott and Heath."

"Can they defend themselves, or are we playing babysitter?" he muttered, arms crossed.

"Carl," his father warned, sharp but measured.

"We know Aaron can handle himself outside just fine. And he's our friend, so that’s a plus for us." Eleanor paused and tilted her head slightly. "Heath and Scott were part of a scavenging group that often went into the larger cities for medicine and rare goods. They seem to know their stuff."

After a beat, Carl frowned and gave a reluctant nod.

Ah… so she wasn’t reading him wrong.

"And... I want to take Heath with me."

Rick turned. Michonne paused what she was doing. Eleanor shot them both an unimpressed glare.

"Well, I was thinking—"

"Dad, can we switch teams?" Carl interrupted, springing up.

"No," Rick gruffed.

"Please, please. I never ask you for anything. You have to let me go with Eleanor," he whispered urgently under his breath.

Rick raised a brow at his son, then turned to Eleanor with a look that clearly said, See what you've started?

She crossed her arms.

"He seems logical, intelligent, and impartial. He’s the perfect person to get on our side."

"Dad—"

"Abraham is going with her—"

"He can go with someone else!" Carl hissed more urgently. "I'm better with camouflage out there. She’s going alone with two noobs, please."

"Noobs?" Rick frowned, confused.

"It’s a term for newbies," Eleanor supplied, stepping forward. "Can he go with me? He won’t focus otherwise."

Rick rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Carl immediately bolted to his room.

"That noob thing was bullshit," Rick muttered.

"I know."

"He needs to control that."

"We're working on it. But I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree."

He glared at Eleanor, who covered her smile with her fingers.

"I'm taking Heath. He seems respected. And I can get to him. We need him on our side, Rick."

"Apparently," he gruffed again, then barked for his son.

Together, they walked down to Olivia to retrieve the weapons. The others were already there, and Aaron was holding the bedsheets she’d asked him for.

"Okay, we’ll separate into four groups," Rick announced. "I’ll go with Abraham. Aaron will go with Daryl and Michonne. Scott will go with Glenn and Maggie. And Heath will go with Carl and Eleanor."

He paused.

"We’ll use camouflage," he said, taking the sheets and cutting them in half with his blade—except for Abraham, who got a full sheet to himself.

"Each team has at least one person who’s done this before and will instruct the others on how to use the camouflage. This will prevent walkers from attacking us, as long as you stay silent. Each team can only use guns with silencers. Blades are preferred at all times. Take down walkers only if necessary."

He paused again.

"Let me repeat myself. No noise. No gunfire. No unnecessary movement. Understood?"

Eleanor glanced around as everyone nodded. Rick moved a map to the front.

"The warehouse is here. The road to Washington—the one we saw full of walkers—is here." He gestured to the west and north. "We’ll cover these two fronts. Two teams each. Each team will take one vehicle up to here," he pointed to a halfway route on each side, "and here. After that, it’s on foot."

"Each team has a packed satchel with food and essentials. Don’t start fires unless absolutely necessary, and only if there are no walkers nearby. Each team knows how to proceed."

He straightened.

"Questions?"

Silence.

"Good. We move," Rick gruffed.

"Can I ask—what is this camouflage thing they’re talking about?"

Eleanor turned to Heath as he looked between her and Rick.

"You should’ve asked when my dad said ‘questions,’" Carl snapped back.

Eleanor took a breath and laid a hand on Carl’s shoulder.

"TL;DR," she leaned in and whispered, "We’re infiltrating walkers by looking like walkers. It’s safe—we’ve done it hundreds of times. Me, Carl, Glenn, and Rick were pioneers in this tactic. We’ll be fine."

"You can chicken out if you want now," Carl muttered beside her, slipping into the space between them.

Eleanor shook her head, stifling a smile as she moved away. Heath said nothing and followed. The gates opened, and each team separated.

Eleanor spotted a red car—one that Aaron had apparently fixed for this purpose. He and the others were leaving with Rick and Abraham.

"So, who wants to ride?" Abraham teased.

"I’ll drive," Rick gruffed, walking forward.

"I want the copilot seat," Abraham declared.

Eleanor didn’t protest—he was huge, he needed that seat.

"I want the middle," Carl said just as quickly.

Okay... she’d admit it. This was getting annoying.

"Right. Let’s move," she said, opening the door as they all climbed in and drove off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, Heath—have you always been in Alexandria?"

Eleanor poked her head over Carl’s hat. He sat up straight as she tried to address the man on the other side.

The man in question—Heath—Black, mid-length dreads, tall, probably around Eleanor’s age, not bad-looking, and with a smart air about him thanks to his glasses—turned from the window when addressed.

"Yes. From the beginning," he answered. Not clipped, but blunt. A blunt man who didn’t sugarcoat his answers.

Like his father.
Like him.
Like Shane.

He was seeing a pattern.

"Cool. I’m from Florida. Rick and Carl are from Georgia. And Abraham is... Abraham, where are you from?" Eleanor asked, turning her attention forward again.

Abraham huffed, amused. "Houston."

"Abraham is from Houston," Eleanor repeated brightly, as if Heath hadn’t just heard him say it.

Heath smiled at her humor.

"You came a long way," he said with a small frown.

"We’ve been together for years," Carl added, nodding with pride.

"And... Heath," Eleanor poked her head forward again, "what did you do before the outbreak?"

"I worked in IT. Data entry," he said, smirking. "Which... isn’t that impressive by apocalypse standards."

Eleanor giggled. Rick snorted.

Carl huffed, barely hiding a scowl.

"I was a university student. Virology. Rick was a police officer. Abraham is the best prepared of all of us—he was a Marine."

"A sergeant in the U.S. military," Abraham corrected, amused.

"And Carl was... a middle schooler," she added, teasing.

He blushed, clearly offended.

"Point is—we all came from different backgrounds and adapted. And data entry? That can easily translate into ration tracking, inventory management, planning..." She smiled. "And yet you scavenge. I can’t say I’m not surprised."

She paused. "How far have you gone out?"

"We’ve reached the outskirts of Washington," Heath said, "but mostly we’ve hit abandoned military bases around Virginia." He lifted his hand, then added, "But you—you’ve gone much farther than we have, and in less time."

"I prefer large stores. I often get lucky," she admitted. "But my finds are usually generic. You get some sweet stuff." She grinned. "We all have our preferences. In larger places, things work differently. You’ll see why we’re not afraid of herds soon enough..."

Eleanor finally settled and reclined in her seat, looking out the window again. Carl let out a breath and relaxed, leaning back at last, one leg propped up awkwardly—but he wasn’t moving. Not from this spot.

He almost jumped when he felt a hand intertwine with his.

He looked down—it was Eleanor. She turned to him and smiled.

He closed his fingers around hers, his thumb brushing the back of her hand.

"You comfortable?" she asked in a hush.

"I chose this seat, didn’t I?" he said, leaning closer. "I’m good."

He kept his leg up, subtly hiding their intertwined fingers.

After fifteen more minutes, his father stopped, parking the car on the side of the road.

“Step out,” he said, before exiting the vehicle himself. Abraham followed close behind.

Eleanor opened the door on her side, letting go of Carl’s hand as she did. Carl felt her hand slip away and scooted over to follow.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of wood and wet soil in mid-spring, and almost sighed audibly. His hand felt a little sweaty, so he wiped it clean—but the leftover warmth soothed something in him.

At least... for five seconds.

“There are no walkers nearby, so we’ll use the sheets later as we find them. We separate from here,” Rick said, moving to the right. “Heath, Eleanor, and Carl—you go right. Five miles. Three hours tops. Carl, you brought your watch?”

“Yeah,” Carl said, checking if the batteries were still working.

“Good. We’ll go left,” Rick gruffed. “I want you both safe, sharp, and focused. Focused, both of you,” he warned again, his voice heavy with a trace of dejection.

“We’ll reach you soon, cowboy,” Eleanor said, trying to soothe him. “Be careful yourself.”

Rick nodded and gave Carl one last look before walking toward the left.

“Okay, let’s roll out,” Eleanor said, already heading right.

Every once in a while, Eleanor pulled out her blade and carved a mark on a tree branch.

“You’re marking your way back?” Heath asked. “Smart.”

No. Not words from you. No praise from YOU, Carl thought bitterly. He turned to Heath and put a finger to his lips, signaling silence. Heath, oblivious, obeyed.

They walked in silence for at least half an hour. Eleanor kept making marks now and then, redirecting their path as she checked a small compass and a hand-drawn version of the map Rick kept.

Soon, they found another road—it was paved too. Carl spotted a building in the distance.

The warehouse.

He felt a chill run down his spine. This is where Eleanor almost died.

“We found it,” she announced. And as expected, a low grunt echoed nearby.

One. Two... five. They were starting to surround them. He pulled out his blade.

“Carl,” Eleanor said, her voice like steel. “Triangle.”

“On it,” he replied, moving to stand beside her. He turned to the third party. “Heath, back to back. Quick.”

Super Heath hesitated a millisecond before stepping into position. They held formation as the walkers approached. With a step forward and a good swing to the head, they began to fall—one by one—until there were no more following.

“Pull out the sheets,” Eleanor ordered in a whisper.

Carl moved quickly. He took his sheet, cut a hole in the center, and spread it evenly. Without hesitation, he opened up one of the walker’s guts and began spreading blood and intestines across the fabric.

He heard a gag to his left. Heath was covering his face in absolute disgust. Carl couldn’t resist a grin.

“I told you you’d chicken out,” he whispered.

“Carl, assist Heath,” Eleanor called. She was almost done with her own sheet but stood to kill a few more walkers as they approached.

Yeah, okay. I asked for that one. He moved over, prepared Heath’s sheet, and smeared it with extra intestines—just in case.

Heath was crouching, clearly questioning his life choices, while Carl lifted a corner of the clean side.

“Get in,” he instructed.

Heath took a deep breath and ducked down. His head soon popped out the other side. Carl helped him to his feet, grabbed some dry leaves to clean his hands, and without assistance, lifted his own sheet and crawled under it.

Eleanor turned to help him straighten it. He moved to assist her in turn.

Another gag.

Carl shook his head, suppressing a smile. He turned to Eleanor, who gave him a warning glare—but her eyes shimmered with amusement.

“You okay, Heath?” she asked in a whisper.

“Give me a minute,” Heath muttered. His face was pale—ashy, even.

“Sorry. We need to move on,” she said with an apologetic smile. “No more words from now on. We’ll approach the warehouse and circle it to find an opening in the fence. Looks like the walkers that were here already moved on, so we might go a little farther in.”

Carl nodded. They started moving.

He motioned for Heath to catch up as the man remained frozen at the center of the path.

There was no fire or smoke, but he could tell the entrance was blocked. Rubble covered all the large openings, and some walkers were roaming between the trucks.

Eleanor took the route to the right, and beyond the doors they found a section of fence that was still intact. Carl looked past it and spotted walkers drifting aimlessly, moving in no real direction. There were far fewer than what she had described—definitely not hundreds. Maybe a couple dozen, at most.

He frowned, confused.
Eleanor wasn’t the kind to overestimate walker numbers. Where were the rest?

It seemed she noticed too. She made a subtle hand sign to keep moving, and the three of them—Heath, Eleanor, and Carl—circled left toward the opposite side of the building.

This part got a little more fun.

A few walkers veered too close for comfort, so Carl glanced over at Heath just to see his reaction.

Heath was frozen, feet nailed to the ground in fear.

Carl returned to his side and gently took his hand. Heath looked at him with wide, startled eyes as the walkers approached, and instinctively moved to unsling his weapon.

Carl shook his head.

Don’t.
Don’t move. Don’t engage.

But Heath was clearly panicking. His breathing grew shallow. He twitched, ready to bolt—until Eleanor moved to his other side and repeated Carl’s motion.

Walkers came closer. Closer still. They growled low, heads turning, sniffing the air as if almost catching something.

Heath shut his eyes and held his breath, shoulders trembling. But just like they’d seen before—like back at the prison—the walkers paused, then turned, aimless again, and slowly wandered off.

Some straggled behind, but eventually drifted past.

Heath finally exhaled in a shaky, broken breath.

Eleanor tugged him gently forward by the hand. Heath, still clinging to Carl like a lifeline, dragged him along.

Poor guy.

Now Carl was starting to feel bad for him.

After this, Heath would probably never want to do another run again. Maybe he’d associate Eleanor with the trauma and avoid her altogether.

Well… it is what it is.

They rounded the warehouse to the other side—or rather, the front. Glass panels covered the walls, one of them shattered, and there stood the circular door where Tyreese had once been trapped.

It looked just as empty now.

“Ugh,” Eleanor exhaled under her breath, exasperated. “Where are they?” she whispered.

“This makes no sense. I didn’t kill them all,” she muttered, frustrated.

Carl scanned the area.Then he saw it—one walker in the distance, moving in a distinct direction. Then another appeared, heading the same way.

He squinted.

That… wasn’t right.

“Wait,” he whispered, stepping closer to her. “Look.”

Eleanor followed his gaze.
The walkers appeared in pairs now. Still drifting, but all going the same direction.

“That... is odd,” she whispered.

“Right?”

“Is something happening?” asked Super Heath, a nervous edge in his voice.

“Something’s attracting the walkers,” Eleanor murmured. “That behavior isn’t normal. We’re following them.”

“They’re heading away from Alexandria,” Heath pointed out. “We did our part. We should return now.”

Carl nearly sneered.

No, she’s in charge.

“Elle’s in charge,” he snapped in a low whisper. “She says we go, we go.”

“It’s too soon to return,” Eleanor agreed. “We still have… how long, Carl?”

“Two hours.”

“Good. We’ll just check it out.”
She nodded forward.
“Come on.”

They walked ahead, soon merging with the strange caravan of walkers drifting into the woods. Heath was jumpy, flinching every few steps, and Carl had to keep close in case the idiot got himself bitten.

That’s when he heard it.

A low growling—deep and distant—echoing like a rumble. Almost like the sound of an earthquake far away.

His blood ran cold.

His turn to freeze.
To shiver.

He reached forward and tugged Eleanor’s sleeve. She turned, and the look on her face said it all. The same fear gripped her.

Heath saw their expressions—read the unspoken message—and dropped to the ground again like a rock.

Eleanor’s jaw tightened. She glared ahead, resolute, and drew her blade. She gave a firm nod.

Carl pulled his own knife, muscles tense.
Heath stayed behind.

Carl shot him a cold, reproachful look before moving forward.

He better move.
Or he was on his own. No more coddling.

The growling grew louder—but there were no walkers in sight.

Instead, the forest broke into a wide clearing.

Eleanor had already stepped ahead, frozen still. Her blade dangled loosely in her hand.

Carl lowered his weapon as well, confused, about to ask what was going on—

Until he looked past her.

It was some kind of... mining site. A massive hollow carved into the dirt, surrounded by construction machinery, trucks, debris.

And walkers.

Hundreds.

No—thousands.

Thousands of thousands.

A fucking sea of them, barely contained by a loose perimeter of trucks at either side of the massive ditch. One push, one slip, a little time—and they’d be loose.

“Motherfucker,” Eleanor breathed.

Carl paled.

His breath caught.
He shivered.

Then slowly—helplessly—he sank to the ground.

Motherfucker indeed.

Chapter Text

“Rick, we have a big-ass fucking problem.”

 

Even with the swearing. Even with the pale, horrified expression, the heaving breaths and exhaustion from having run all the way back—Rick would never have been prepared for what he was witnessing.

Not even after reuniting with Morgan, who now stood at his side.

Not with Abraham rubbing his beard over and over, a sheet of walker intestines draped on him like a second skin.

“We’re fucked,” Eleanor muttered beside him.

“We are fucking fucked,” Abraham echoed from the other side.

“Let’s return,” Rick said with a grimace. “We have to move now.”

He turned and bolted back toward the car, where Carl and Heath were waiting.

He was surprised—gladly so—when, as they pushed through the woods and heard rustling, a face appeared that he wasn’t sure he’d ever see again.

Older. Whiter beard. Morgan.

That wide smile and peaceful expression were jarring, a stark contrast to the man he’d left behind two years ago.
Morgan had walked all the way from Atlanta, following signs, tracking them. He welcomed Rick with a quiet hug.

Shame, guilt, and mistrust surged within Rick—colliding with his happiness, his relief. They couldn’t talk properly yet, so they focused on the mission ahead. They walked another forty-five minutes before spotting walkers—dispersed between trees but in large numbers.

They pressed forward, already smeared in walker remains. Morgan’s coat was waterproof and he followed orders without complaint.

A total badass, Rick thought, with a flicker of amusement.

Maybe Morgan’s calm had nudged Abraham into behaving stoically too, silently accepting the strategy. The mission had gone smoothly so far. And once they reached the road Abraham recognized, they estimated a number near three hundred.

Enough. They called it a day and decided to return. Rick was getting restless, though—thinking of Carl, the way he’d suddenly gotten jealous over Heath. Wondering if they were already back at the car, waiting.

It was an understatement to say Eleanor’s discovery had made and ruined his day in the same breath.

Made it—because if she hadn’t had the idea to scout in the first place, that hellpit would’ve reached Alexandria and destroyed everything. Including them.

Ruined—because he had no clue how the hell they were going to divert that many walkers. Add in the ones coming from Washington?

And where would he even begin explaining how screwed they were? Rick scowled, disgusted. Angry. Already tired.

“Don't fall behind,” he muttered.

Everyone followed at a brisk pace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do we have a plan?” Eleanor asked, short of breath.

“Do we?” Rick shot back.

“Well, I am brainstorming—”

“Then keep brainstorming until we reach the car,” he snapped.

She rolled her eyes and jogged to catch up.

“Don’t panic, cowboy,” she whispered, passing by him with a smirk.

They reached the car. Carl stood upright the second he saw them.

“Who’s panicking?” he sneered. “And you! I told you to stay in the car!”

“We were boiling inside there,” Carl complained just as Eleanor passed by. “What’s going on?” he whispered, indignant.

“He saw the quarry, that’s what happened,” she muttered, opening the door. “Hop in.”

“What’s a quarry?” Carl asked, frowning.

“The ditch we saw—it’s called a quarry,” Eleanor explained. “Heath, do me a favor and lean forward so Morgan can squeeze in,” she added, crouching a little to guide them.

“Why don’t we do this instead?”

She turned, wide-eyed, when Carl patted his legs. Oh... hoho, that was taking it too far.

“How about we change places and you sit on me,” she said sweetly, smiling with mock innocence.

He glared.

“Get in!” Rick barked. “I don’t care how!”

She sighed and slid in beside Carl, then pushed forward so he could sit on her lap. He rolled his eyes but gave in.

Morgan reluctantly squeezed into the space left for him, latched the door, and pressed himself against it. There was just enough room for one more person.

“Look, Carl, scoot over,” Eleanor said, grabbing him by the hips and shifting him aside.

“Why me? You scoot over,” Carl grumbled. Exasperated, she moved.

Then she saw an arm sloping in behind her. She crossed gazes with Carl, and she scooted closer, reclining against him. 

Now… finally… they all rested their backs.

The car was already moving.

And an awkward silence settled over them. 

"I'm Eleanor," she began again, turning to offer her hand. "With all the ruckus, we hadn’t had time to properly introduce ourselves. It’s nice to meet you, Morgan—Carl and Rick have told me a lot about you."

He took her hand and shook it, then huffed a smile.

"What did they tell you about me?"

"Many things," she smiled sweetly. "But most importantly, that you helped Rick when he got out of that hospital—and that you helped again when he went scouting for weapons with Carl and Michonne."

She said that on purpose, skipping over his mental breakdown… as Carl had described it.
Morgan seemed to catch the subtle deflection—his eyes dropped, a flicker of shame crossing his face before he lifted them again, steady.

"It’s good to see you, man," Carl said with a nod from his side.

Morgan grinned. "You’ve grown a lot."

"I know," Carl replied smugly.

Eleanor had to suppress a laugh. Seriously, this kid.

“Is Michonne still around?” Morgan ventured, almost hesitant.

“Yeah,” Carl huffed. “But now, instead of taking other people’s protein bars… she hoards KitKats.”

Morgan smiled, visibly relieved, and huffed a quiet laugh, turning his eyes toward the front.

How difficult it was to ask about someone you haven’t seen in a long time… in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. A simple ‘How’s Michonne?’ became a fragile, foolish hope—something only the deeply lucky could afford to say aloud.

It was a strange concept… survival.
Carrying so many ghosts behind you.
The lives of the past, trailing like shadows.

"I’ve got an idea," Eleanor said suddenly.

~*~

They reached Alexandria by lunchtime.

The gate opened, and as the car entered, Eleanor noticed the van was already back—and the council was formed and waiting. Great. She loved being the bearer of bad news.

"Let's cut to the chase," Eleanor sighed. "Rick, maybe we present Morgan first, then go straight into the diversion strategy?"

He grunted in agreement. The car stopped, and they climbed out one by one. All eyes landed immediately on the newcomer, and Eleanor stepped forward.

"This is Morgan. He’s a friend of Rick, Michonne, and Carl… way back. We found him in the forest while scouting. He's a strong addition to the community—and given the news we bring, we’ll need all the hands we can get."

Olivia stepped forward to greet Morgan, and he walked with her. Eleanor crossed her arms.

"I don’t bring good news. Rick and Abraham found a caravan of walkers heading toward Alexandria. Around three hundred. They’ll collide with what Carl, Heath, and I discovered."

She turned to Heath, her gaze serious. It was better if the details came from him.

Heath, realizing the ball was now in his court, stepped forward.

"We found a ditch," he began. "It’s deep, and walkers have been falling into it, building in number. The noise from the ones inside keeps attracting more. They're only being held back by some old trucks that were pushed off the road, but they're shifting, and it's not going to hold forever."

"How many are we talking about?" asked a man Eleanor didn’t recognize.

"Thousands," she replied, voice tight. "Thousands of thousands."

Gasps rippled through the group. Whispers turned into louder murmurs until she had to wait for the noise to settle.

“Quiet, please,” said Dianna, stepping forward. “How and where did you find the ditch?”

“We were inspecting the warehouse,” Eleanor explained. “We found barely any walkers inside. They were all moving in a distinct direction—not toward us. We followed, and not far from there, we found the ditch.”

“The walkers were falling inside, just like the others,” Heath added.

Dianna looked down, her expression stricken with horror, worry, and helplessness. Eleanor glanced around at the others—panic was spreading… and with it, denial.

She raised her voice.

“We need to divert them. And with Alexandria’s resources, it can be done.”

Everyone turned toward her. She twisted her fingers for a moment, then stood straighter.

“We’ll use what drew them in the first place—noise. We’ll use everything at our disposal: the truck we were planning to dismantle, more trucks from the warehouse, anything that works. Music, horns—whatever we can find. We attract the walkers back toward Washington, or to a different road far from Alexandria.

"For that, we’ll need vehicles, people posted at strategic points, and a tightly coordinated effort. Noise will appear and disappear in specific places to guide the herd. Confronting them directly is not an option.”

She turned to Dianna, locking eyes.

“We need to work together. No ego. No competition. Just teamwork. Just survival.”

Dianna stared at her for a moment, then closed her eyes… and nodded, resolute.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We’ll make them go through Redding.

It had been three days.

Eleanor had established a routine. At 5 a.m., she woke up and gave Carl a small peck on the forehead to rouse him. He groaned and dragged the covers with him as he turned.

He shuffled back to his room, wavering from side to side, and she went to change. By 5:30, she was already driving the smallest car to the quarry to assess the walker situation.

Still intact. She returned, and got to work.

The warehouse was still partially destroyed, but they took everything they could, knowing the walkers were heading to the quarry. Cables, extenders, amplifiers—anything that could be repurposed. The spare metal originally meant for the expansion was now used to block one of the routes, forcing the walkers to go through Redding and past the community. Cars were stationed every ten miles, each wired for sound. Music, alarms—a strident schedule drafted, revised, and double-checked.

Anyone leaving the community to help was mandated to carry knives and guns at all times. Carl had made more silencers—this time with Eugene, who had resurfaced from under whatever rock he’d crawled into. How Carl had dragged him back, she didn’t want to know. But together, they got the work done. Everyone was doing their part.

Which made it all the more bitter when she heard the commotion coming from the storage room—and walked into a complete, disgusting mess.

Rick was pointing a gun at Carter, who was on his knees. Olivia, Carter, Spencer, Francine, and others stood frozen to the side. Eugene stood there trembling, arms full of food.

Eleanor let out a long, tired sigh.

“Well, if it isn’t la révolution,” she muttered in French, placing her hands on her hips, but glaring at Rick. “Put that away. Carter, get the hell up.”

Rick stepped back and handed her the gun. She placed it on the shelf.

“Let me guess. This is because of yesterday,” she said with a blink of annoyance. “I’d love to hear the terms of this Declaration of Independence... if I may.”

“This is a game to you?” Carter said with a nervous smile. “Yeah, we were talking—”

“Carter,” a woman warned.

“You left us yesterday to die!”

“I didn’t leave you to die. I showed you how to kill a walker and then let one get close so you could do it yourself,” she explained, slowly and clearly. “I wasn’t going to let it bite you. But you can’t go around screaming ‘Help! Help!’ waiting for someone to swoop in. What if no one’s there to help you, Carter?” Her tone turned sharper.

“What exactly happened?” Eleanor turned to Rick, but out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow trying to slip away. “Don’t take another step, Eugene. Rick, explain. Who found this?”

“I came in when Carter was about to kill Eugene,” Rick said, shaking his head—fed up with the whole situation, and probably the people too. “So either Eugene snuck in for food and heard them talking, or he was already in here. But if they were ready to kill him to silence him... then it was serious.”

“Ah... truly a coup d’état,” she muttered, now fully furious. “You know what? Let’s go with that. You win!” she declared, throwing up her arms before turning to Rick. “Let’s grab our stuff and leave. Clearly we’re not wanted, and more importantly, not needed. They’ve got the plan. They’re halfway through preparations. They can take it from here.

“And Judith’s three now, almost fully potty trained—I say the worst is behind us. With the walkers heading for Alexandria, we can carve a path straight into Washington.”

She moved to open the door.

“Wait—”

She turned. Olivia had spoken. “We’re sorry,” she said.

“It’s of no use to me that you’re sorry. I don’t even care that you contemplated murder while supposedly being so morally righteous in your decisions.”

She stepped toward Carter—who was a full head taller—and looked up at him with tired, disappointed eyes.

“What I can’t stand is the fact that you had enough free time to think you know better. That you honestly believed killing us or throwing us out would make you the hero.

"There are no fucking heroes in this world, Carter. There are survivors. And right now, you are not a survivor. You’re a scheming, scared, insufficient burden. Not to me. Not to my people. But to yours.

“And I am sick and tired of having to say ‘my people’ over and over because that distinction still matters to you. Because somehow, we’re still the outsiders—even while risking our asses to save your Alexandria from an army of walkers—while you play at mutiny in your little clubhouse.”

She opened the door for good this time.

“I need you, Eugene. Leave the food. Follow me.”

The man quietly placed the cans back in their place and followed her out.

"Eugene."

"...Yes," he said, growing agitated behind her. She slowed her pace and turned.

"Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

His stare was unreadable. He looked down.

"Considering the fact I wasn’t terminated by a bullet to the head, I would say I'm in good enough condition to move on without protest," he said quickly—almost defiant, almost baiting her to slap him.

She blinked, recognizing the pattern.

"You left me and Tyreese to die," she said. He flinched, looking at her. "Do you feel sorry for that?"

"...Yes," he added, anxious.

"You also kept Noah alive, along with Tyreese. Do you regret that?"

"...No."

"You spoke in my favor, even though you were threatened. Did Rick treat you badly?"

"No," Eugene said with conviction, then looked down. "He pressured... that, he did. I thought you were dead... and that I was next."

She nodded, frowning in acknowledgment.

"Then let's not talk about it anymore. It's done. It's over," she said with a smile. "But don't tell anyone. Especially not Carl. I reckon he's been making you live through hell on earth these last days. Imagine if he knew I forgave you—"

"He's been decent," Eugene cut her off. "Albeit he has no patience for an adequate explanation of the right quality control of weapon silencers... he has been respectful."

"Oh? Really? Well, that gives me peace of mind," she said, though she didn’t believe for a second that Carl was being civil. She’d have to see it with her own eyes. "How many silencers have you made and tested?"

"Four tested. Three more ready to test," Eugene recounted as they resumed walking. "Two are for sniper rifles."

"Those are good news," she said, now smiling more genuinely. "That means all the rifles have silencers now." She rubbed her hands together. "That also means I can steal you away from Carl today."

He stopped walking, rigid. She turned when she realized she wasn’t being followed.

"I’d rather stick to my already established routine. I still have many responsibilities w-with the silencers."

Eleanor resisted a smirk.

Decent treatment, huh?

"Sadly, Carl will have to do without you. The cabling is ready to connect to the amplifiers and speakers. I need you for that," she insisted. "Come now... I promise to vouch for you once we’re done."

He slumped and dragged his feet like a condemned man.

~*~

"Where the fuck were you?"

Eleanor shook her head as Eugene did his best to appear nonchalant. But she knew Carl—the teen was ready to bite Eugene’s head off.

"He was setting the speakers with me today," Eleanor smiled.

Carl turned his glare on her.

"You could have said so in advance," he said, crossing his arms.

"Sorry, I wasn't aware he was in such high demand," she said with a sweet smile. "Next time I'll keep that in mind. Today I recruited him in a ‘spur of the moment’ kind of situation... mixed with a little life-or-death stakes. Probably."

Carl frowned. "What happened?" He turned to Eugene, and the man flinched as he fussed with the satchel.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?" she said with a feline smile. "Why don’t you leave him working while we talk for a while?"

"Fine," Carl muttered, then turned to Eugene again. "I’ve finished with the silencers we had on standby. You can start two more sniper rifles, in case a replacement’s needed."

"That’s fine by me," Eugene said, already walking off.

Carl looked at her, adjusted his hat, and slipped his hands into his pockets as they walked toward the park.

"What did Eugene do this time?" he asked with a sigh.

Eleanor gave him a little smile. "He tried to sneak food from the pantry. And he overheard a conversation between some Alexandrians... about taking Alexandria back from us..." she said, then added with stressed clarity, "whatever means possible. Though I don’t know what that entails exactly, I reckon they were ready to kill us. When they found Eugene, they had him at gunpoint."

"What!?"

"And your dad found them. Disarmed the one holding the gun. Then I arrived... and the situation turned more and more ridiculous. I decided to extract him before things got worse."

"Who?"

She blinked and turned. They had stopped by a bench, the sun warming her back just right—and yet Carl’s glare was as gelid as the chill of dawn.

"And... what will you do if I tell you?" she asked with a cheeky smile.

Carl lifted his chin. "Do you want me to do something?"

"I want you to do nothing."

Carl scoffed. "We gain nothing by showing strength through violence. They’re more scared of being abandoned while walkers swarm Alexandria. Their dreams of grandeur will come crashing down fast."

"Who," he repeated, looking into the distance.

She looked too. Abraham and Rosita were passing by, rifles in hand. It was their turn on sentinel duty.

"Carter—" she began, but Carl cut her off.

"Who’s Carter?"

"The chief of the construction site... I think," she added, glancing at the sky. "Francine..."

"Who’s Francine?"

"Francine was the girl Abraham rescued on the construction site when the walkers swarmed them—"

"Hah." Carl spat the laugh, mirthless. "So on top of trying to betray us, we already saved her life."

"It gets better," she added. "Carter left Francine to die—no, no, that was someone else... Tobin, I think. Aaaand he was there too. Carter was the one who told Dianna that if it weren’t for Abraham, Francine would’ve died."

"Great. It gets better and better. Who else?"

She sighed. "Spencer."

Carl rolled his eyes.

"Olivia."

"Bitch."

"Carl," Eleanor warned.

"She smiled at me when I gave her the silencers! That! Hypocritical witch!" he bellowed, indignant.

"She was the first one to say sorry," Eleanor added.

Carl silently mouthed her words in mocking exaggeration.

"After I said we could pack our things and leave them to deal with the walkers alone."

"Of course!" He slapped his thighs. "You know what? Why don’t we? It’d be easier at this point. Let the walkers have them, then we clean up Alexandria and keep it for ourselves!"

"You can’t be serious," Eleanor laughed. "What about Enid?"

"...She’s one of us," Carl nodded, resolute.

Eleanor grinned. "What about Aaron the Salesman... and Eric?"

"Okay."

"And Heath?"

"Why Super Heath, of all people you could’ve said?"

Eleanor broke into laughter.

"Super Heath!" she gasped, laughing again as Carl blushed. "When did that happen?"

"A while ago," he shrugged. "Fine... let’s just say we save Heath."

"A—and Jessie? Sam? ...Ron?"

Carl sighed. She finally reeled in her laughter. An eerie silence settled.

"I know what you’re doing," he said, narrowing his eyes.

"Ah... then the message has been received." She looked at him. "It’ll be alright. The walkers are a bigger problem than an impromptu presentation of Les Misérables’ second act in the middle of Alexandria."

"Who?" Carl frowned.

"Ah! There must be at least the ‘90s movie version. If not the series."

"It’s a movie?"

"Yup. You have to watch it. It’s common knowledge," she said animatedly. "Ask your dad... he’ll know."

She paused.

"No, no—what am I saying. Ask Michonne. She absolutely knows."

He shook his head, a quiet smile breaking through. Eleanor felt a little lighter for it.

"What will you do with them?" he asked.

"For now... I can’t do much," she tilted her head. "Well... this all started because Carter almost shit himself when confronted with a walker, and nobody helped him. I guess I could train them... if I have the time."

"I’ll help you."

She turned to Carl.

"I like teaching. It’s my calling," he deadpanned.

She shook her head, amused. "Thanks, love." She touched his hand, and he blushed.

"What’s my pay?"

"Bargaining now?" she teased.

"I might do better if I know there’s something out of it."

"A date. Movie night. Just you and me. Some time alone... some cuddling... a foot massage."

"I’ll take it," he frowned. "I don’t know about the ‘foot massage.’"

"Don’t reject it so fast. Maybe you’ll love it," she teased again.

Chapter Text

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

Enid gave Carl a half-disheartened, half-annoyed look. If anything, he looked more nervous than her.

"Even if it doesn't, we at least had to try," he muttered with a shake of the head as they approached the back door of the Andersons’ house.

That afternoon had been a total shit show. When Ellie said extracting Jessie would be hard, he hadn’t imagined just how hard. When she said they needed the support of the Alexandrians for it to work, he hadn’t seen the scope of that decision—not until the moment presented itself.

Until Pete burst out of the house, seeing red, ready to fight his father to the death... and was met with Deanna, the rest of the council—and Abraham. He'd cowered back like a cornered raccoon, and still managed to manipulate Ron just enough for the kid to decide his father was in the right.

And side with him.

Ron had to know that one stupid decision would push Jessie to return to Pete. It was immature, selfish, stupid... did he already say stupid?

Sure enough, they found Ron by the garage, staring at the weird metal sculpture his mom had made—later torn to pieces.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Carl asked as they approached.

Ron jumped and turned, his expression balancing somewhere between disgust, cowardice, and rage. Honestly, truly intimidating. A walker would fall back dead just from the sight of it.

"What do you want?" he demanded, voice tight. "Your daddy’s done enough already. Or maybe you're here to tell me Enid's yours now." He looked down. "I don't care. She's all yours—"

"I am no one’s," Enid bit out. Then she huffed and turned to leave, but Carl stopped her, taking a breath.

"We're here to take you to Jessie," he said, stepping forward.

That got Ron’s attention more than any insult. He backed away, and Carl could see him winding up to howl like a husky for his dad.

Carl lunged, grabbing the back of his neck with one hand and covering his mouth with the other.

"Shut up, you little bitch," he hissed. "Are you really telling me you were okay with your dad hurting your mom? Which side are you even on?"

Ron glared and tried to punch him, but Enid hooked her arm around him, holding him back. He looked at her like she’d just stabbed him in the back.

Yeah. So much for saying he was over her.

"No, you're not on any side but your own. You’re just scared your mommy and daddy are gonna leave you alone," Carl said sharply. "And your peace of mind is worth more to you than your mom's pain."

Ron struggled, but his eyes were watering now. The tears welled up.

"Who do you think Pete’s gonna hit now that she’s gone, huh? You see why we're here to save your sorry ass?"

"Carl," Enid warned.

He looked over at Ron, whose tears were falling freely now. Carl let him go, and Ron stumbled backward, crashing into his mother’s broken sculpture.

The rattle was loud—loud enough to make Carl flinch in a mix of pity and annoyance.

"Is this your idea of gentle persuasion?" Enid asked, exasperated.

"It’s called shock therapy. Works well with dumbasses," he said flatly, looking down. "But the rattle wasn’t intentional," he added, moving to put Enid behind him.

Sure enough, Pete resurfaced from the back door. He was holding a bottle—something much stronger than wine—and it was half gone. He swayed slightly, clearly drunk, descending the steps with a lopsided smirk.

Carl tensed. Pete was too close now for him to drag Ron behind him.

Would Pete hit them both?

But the man turned toward Ron. The smirk faded.

"Looks like you got my bad luck with women too, eh... son?" he slurred.

He stumbled closer. Ron stood up.

“Dad—”

SLAP.

Ron fell back to the ground, and Enid rushed to help him up.

"We're taking Ron to Jessie," Carl announced. Pete turned, eyes bloodshot and murderous. He stumbled toward Carl, leaving Ron behind—and Carl seized the chance.

He pulled out his blade and raised it.

Pete stopped, frozen… then smiled crookedly.

"Put that down, kid, before you hurt yourself."

"You wanna find out who's getting hurt, Pete?" Carl replied coldly, keeping the blade up.

Enid and Ron walked past behind him. Carl backed with them, rounding them as they moved around the house.

Pete never followed.

Ron claimed his father hadn’t hit him. But he still walked into Carol’s house without another word of protest.

~*~

“We all know our places!” Rick hollered beside Dianna. “Each group has a map, a timer, and a walkie,” he added, holding up the small device. “In case the speakers malfunction, use the horns and the flares to keep the noise going until the next switch-up. Stay sharp, stay safe. Only authorized people have weapons and silencers—the rest will use blades exclusively!”

“Alexandrians,” Deanna stepped forward, “this is the moment to defend our homes. We are prepared, we have a plan. I’m counting on all of you.”

“She can’t help it, can she?” Carl muttered beside Ellie, arms crossed, a bored glare drifting forward.

She smiled patiently. As it were, she wanted to forgo any protagonism. She stood among the crowd, tucked between him and the rest of the people listening to his dad, far from the center of attention.

“She’s a politician, Carl,” Ellie said with an amused smile. “It’s what she knows best.”

“Not much of an asset, if you ask me.” He turned to her, slightly dejected. “And I’m not forgetting you didn’t want me on the teams to begin with. If something happens to you, I’ll get you back. You know I will.”

“I know you will,” she whispered.

She leaned against his shoulder, her voice trailing near the base of his neck. He shivered.

She wasn’t being fair. It was supposed to be a threat, a warning. He was supposed to be intimidating. Everyone thought he was intimidating.
He blushed and looked ahead, trying at least to appear civil.

“Besides,” she added, “I need someone capable to manage things while I’m gone. Spencer is staying behind—that alone should tell you he thinks he’s the people. And Noah’s still recuperating, no matter what he claims. I only have you to trust with the fort.”

“I know what you’re doing,” he whispered back, still facing forward. “And it greatly offends me.”

She snorted and straightened up.

“What do I get out of it?” he pressed.

“You’re liking that commission payment now, are you?” she teased, amused. “This time, I’ll let you choose—as long as it’s in the realm of possibility.”

He huffed. The crowd began to disperse, and he turned to her again, more serious now.

“Do you think something might happen? That you’ll fail?”

She grew quiet. “Anything can happen. And I want everyone on high alert, even inside the walls. The fact that people stay here doesn’t mean they get to sit idle while others risk their lives.”

“I like the ring of that,” he said, and let his fingers brush gently against her cheek before walking away.

Oh, how he wished he could kiss her in public... even just the cheek.
And how bitter it was, having to think like that, when he hated public displays of affection.
This was what he had, wasn’t it?

It was almost funny to think that before, she’d been far enough away that he didn’t have to think about it.
But at the same time, that had also been awful.

He sighed. Long and heavy. Pulled up his hat and ruffled his hair.

He should be more worried about how she would fare. But somehow, the plan had been so thoroughly thought through—even rehearsed. There were walls. She had a specific post. She’d be connected back to Alexandria by radio.

He wasn’t sure why… but he felt like they were more at risk.
They, the ones left behind the walls.

What if Pete tried to take Jessie by force? What if he attacked Carol?

What if some stupid motherfucker made enough noise to divert a rogue group of walkers toward Alexandria?
There weren’t enough of them to take the herd down. People would panic fast.

He had a sense of dread—constant, breathing down his neck. He didn’t know how to explain it, but somehow… he wanted to be outside. Not just for Eleanor.

For himself.

Maybe it was the stress from confronting Pete.
Maybe it was the fact that, officially, he was now in charge of Alexandria. Alongside Deanna.

Deanna Monroe. The same woman who once offered him a position of power to manipulate him against Eleanor.

And now here he was. In that same position.
Not because of her choice, or her manipulation.

Yeah… he didn’t want that either.
He hated that woman.

He sighed again and made his way to the sentinel post, deciding to check the rifle’s scope as the herd was slowly led away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eleanor watched as the walkers poured from the quarry and funneled into the treeline. She stood beside Heath, a speaker and a megaphone rigged together at her side.

“Ready?” he asked, already fitting his earplugs.

“Let the bodies hit the floor,” she quipped, scanning the herd through her binoculars.

He frowned. “Isn’t that cue eleven?”

“I know. But it’s sweetly ironic, don’t you think?”

He snorted, hit play, and both of them grimaced—earplugs doing little—when the Radetzky March exploded from the speakers in a near-murderous blast. The upbeat thunder carried far, and the walkers turned toward it instantly.

“They’re swarming in!” Heath shouted over the cacophony.

Eleanor twirled her fingers, a signal to hold steady, before glancing at the timer on her wrist. At exactly one minute fifty-five, the song looped, the megaphone shut off, and she ran for the next outpost. From the tower there, she looked down past the wire fencing and smiled—the herd was already forming a perfect line.

She ran to reach the next outpost. Three miles... she was half way into the third when she looked at her schedule. Fifty seconds to go.

“Aaron," she said, out of breath. "Do you copy?" 

Copy

"Okay....," she said slowing down. "Second beat,” she spoke into the walkie. “Five seconds.”

On it, Aaron’s voice crackled back.

Right on cue—barely three seconds of silence—Dies Irae from Verdi’s Requiem erupted in an obnoxious clash of trumpets and drums. Eleanor shivered but kept her eyes on the timer.

At least thirteen loops of this nightmare before it reached past Redding.  

She finally arrived at Aaron’s post, another fenced tower, and climbed up to him.

“Why did you pick this one?” he groaned, rubbing his temple.

“Until we reach Motherland, we need the most strident noise possible,” she said, noticing that she could still hear the March on the background, "The sound is trailing this far! That's  good news," 

“You’re sacrificing classical music! Over what?”

She didn’t answer. If she admitted she’d rather lose Mozart than sacrifice her SOAD and Disturbed albums to the apocalypse, her hard-earned respect might not survive.

“But it’s working, isn’t it?” she pointed out.

Aaron cringed through the third loop. Eleanor climbed down, dispatching a few stray walkers drawn to the sound, before moving on toward the next post—a stretch with only light wire fencing.

As she jogged to the next outpost, the first flare arked into the sky, followed by the sharp bursts of firecrackers. She exhaled in relief. Easier on the ears than the last track, at least.

The walkers ignored her, following the sound trail exactly as planned. Everything was going so well… she dared to hope it would hold.

She gasped then, grabbing her knees in defeat. She started walking to Motherland instead. 

Three minutes of silence passed, and then, faint in the distance, Papa Roach began to blare.

Rick was on schedule. The “motherland” position had the biggest speakers, the biggest draw, stretching for over half a mile of sound that delayed exactly thirty seconds before ot looped back at the beggining.

Even walking, she reached the beggining of the walker procession. Now sure there was no use to run the whole way  she let herself relax as she fillowed the gruesome parade.

Past Motherland, another stretch of three miles lead them to the beggining of Redding. From there, the  vehicles would start guiding and herding the walkers. The last mile, the mile of silence... was meant to use only flares to make them disperse. Hopefully, it would be over by mid-day.

Eleanor broke into a jog, once more. Wanting to wait the caravan in next point of relay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carl opened the door to his house and stepped outside, his rifle secured on his back. He walked down the porch, giving a cautious look around.

It was time for a second round. Only Maggie and Carol were inside with him, officially making watch. Spencer was supposedly taking a shift, yet Carl didn’t believe that for a second.

His eyes landed on two figures sitting by the small hill in the park where he often went to relax.

Ron and Enid.

She hugged him, and he returned the gesture. Her eyes sought him over Ron’s shoulder, and he waved from a distance. She flicked her fingers in turn, then looked away.

“Carl.”

He turned. Jessie was climbing down Carol’s stairs in a hurry—certainly in a hurry to reach him. Carl took a moment to study her face. She looked rested. Her eyes still held sorrow, but within it, there was peace. That gave him peace of mind.

“Miss Anderson,” he conceded.

“When I saw that rifle and your shirt, I couldn’t believe my eyes,” she half-joked, half-warned with concern. “Does… does Rick know that you—”

“We’re watching the perimeter for any threats. I’m in charge, along with Deanna, in case anything is needed,” he explained. “My dad is in Motherland, not too far from here. Do you need to talk to him?” He reached for his walkie.

“N-no… no, it’s just…” she hesitated. He waited patiently. She shook her head with a huff. “What… what would need you to handle such a big weapon?”

“I’m guessing if part of the herd gets diverted accidentally to Alexandria, we need to be prepared to contain it,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “That, and the fact we’re making a lot of noise—we could attract raiders. Sadly, it’s a risk we had to take.”

He paused, giving her a lopsided smile.

“I’ve been handling rifles since I was fourteen. I can take it.”

She blinked, fumbled, and slightly blushed. Carl huffed, a smirk now tugging at his lips.

“I—I… didn’t mean—” she began with a more serious expression.

“I know. I don’t take it to heart. Besides, I’m Ron’s age. This… even if it’s the norm out there, hasn’t been the norm here.”

She sobered at that. Before the conversation could die, he added, “He’s talking with Enid over at the park. It would be good if you stayed indoors in case something happens.”

She nodded and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Thank you, Carl.”

He nodded and walked away. As if on cue, Ron appeared from the other side, wearing a black beanie, a black shirt under a blue jacket, black pants, and boots. Carl rolled his eyes.

“What were you talking about with my mom?” Ron asked in an almost defiant tone.

“She asked me where you were, and why I was carrying a rifle inside Alexandria,” Carl began. “Would you like to know?”

Ron lifted his chin, eyes glassy.

“No,” he gruffed and walked away. Carl let out a tired sigh and moved forward. Enid was nowhere in sight, even though she’d been with Ron earlier.

“Ron!” Carl called just as Ron climbed the porch. Despite all odds, Ron turned to face him. “Enid was with you just now. Where is she?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” he said, then entered his house.

Carl wanted so badly to punch him. Was he serious?

She’d risked herself with Pete just to get Ron out of there. She was supposed to be his girlfriend still, even if she wanted to break up. And even if they had broken up—she was a friend. He couldn’t just think whatever happened to her was fine, especially knowing Enid liked to wander into the woods. Scratch that—any decent human being would at least wonder where she was going, given the dire circumstances they were in.

He let out a long, deep sigh. There was no use saying this to himself. If Ron couldn’t grow a spine and protect Enid, Carl could… and he would.

That’s when he heard a scream, followed by something crashing—like glass against a wall.

His eyes darted to a sudden flare of fire and smoke. A molotov. It was happening—the raiders.

He turned on his walkie.

“Maggie! Tara! Do you copy?” he shouted, running for cover behind a house and pulling his rifle to the front.

Carl, raiders. They’re coming from all directions.

Shit… shit! He moved to speak. “Let Tara and Spencer take them down with the sniper. I need people on the ground! If you find a civilian, tell them to take cover!”

Be careful, Carl—they have weapons!

He heard another scream. Heads peeked from doors and windows.

“Get inside!” he yelled, running forward. “Get inside and lock yourselves down!”

He cursed under his breath, removed the silencer, and fired into the air. The sound could attract walkers, yes—but it would also reach his father if he was still in Motherland. More importantly, the Alexandrians would know better than to look outside. As he hoped, some people began running to their houses. On their tail were people Carl had never seen—dirty, ragged, armed with knives and hatchets—chasing them at a beast-like speed.

He didn’t think, he acted—aimed, and fired.

Three down. The chased Alexandrian made it to safety. Carl quickly reattached the silencer, hissing at the burn of the gun barrel.

Another attacker appeared, already having taken down a woman. Carl dropped him in one shot, then rushed forward to take cover. Reaching the park near the solar panels, he froze.

They were everywhere—at least a dozen. Knives, molotovs, axes. Some people were hacked apart, others burned alive. Carl took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus.

…just like the prison.
…just like the forest.
…just like Terminus.

He barely heard his father’s voice in his head as he embraced the part of himself still buried, still chained, still contained. He had to—if he didn’t, everyone would die. Eleanor was right: these people were their people now, and they all had to survive. This was his responsibility.

He took down six before realizing more had fallen without his help. One raider charged at him. He aimed—until the figure raised their arms. White hair showed beneath a kerchief. They pulled it down.

Carol.

“How many have you got?” she asked, handgun and blade in hand as she reached his wall for cover. Carl noticed she’d taken some of the attackers’ clothes to blend in—but what confused him more was the “W” drawn on her forehead. What was that for?

“Ten… more,” Carl said, scanning around. “I’ve counted three casualties. The others are hidden in their homes.”

“I heard you fire to warn them. Smart,” she conceded with a little smile.

“Not smart enough,” he replied, still tense. “We need to take them down fast before—”

A crash against metal cut him off. Then a horn—loud, louder than anything—blared as he covered his ears and searched for the source.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How is it moving?"

Rick nodded, frowning in reluctant approval. "I got the message. They’ve reached the mile of silence. Sasha’s started moving with Abraham and Daryl."

She nodded, smiling with a sigh of relief.

"So far, so good," she concluded, glancing at the schedule and her timer. "The third full loop is coming up." She turned to her walkie. "Heath… do you copy?"

What's up?

"How many walkers are left in the quarry?"

All are already gone. The tail is passing by me right now. Do I still engage the fourth loop?

"No, it’s cool." She paused. "If you can, go to Aaron to regroup. If not, take cover until the walkers have passed. I’ll tell him he’s up."

Roger.

She pointed to a specific line on the schedule. "Aaron, copy?"

Copy, Ellie. The walkers are passing.

"No kidding," she muttered under her breath. Rick smirked. "I talked to Heath. The tail’s passed by. That means you’re up for the fourth loop. Can you see the tail from your spot?"

No… it’s just endless… wait—yeah, with the rifle scope, I can.

"Those could be two to three miles," Rick noted.

"Okay… Heath is three miles away… walkers go at seven miles per hour…" She looked up and engaged the walkie. "Okay, Aaron, keep looping—at least five more times before you go silent."

Oh gods…

Rick snickered for real this time. Eleanor ignored him. "I gave you earplugs, Aaron. They have a purpose. Once you’re done, wait for the tail before you descend. Heath will join you shortly—then you two head to Alexandria."

You don’t need any assistance?

"I want more people on base, Aaron. That’s the assistance I need."

Roger.

"You think something might happen back home?" Rick asked.

Ah… so it was home now? Eleanor couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at her lips. She wasn’t even willing to call it anything other than Alexandria, and here he was—the one who didn’t even want to come.

"I’m worried," she admitted, sobering. "We’re making noise, and we both know that’s never good. Besides… we’ve been making all kinds of ruckus building the fence these last weeks. How come we haven’t even found a single mouse… besides Morgan?"

Rick stared ahead and nodded. "Good point. It’s unusual."

"And since we’ve been so occupied, Aaron and Daryl haven’t gone exploring the outskirts… we just don’t know."

"How are we doing?"

They both turned. Morgan had joined them on the outpost. Eleanor frowned.

"Shouldn’t you be on ACDC?"

"Rosita’s covering me." He nodded. "I came to announce that the head has passed ACDC."

She frowned. Morgan lifted his walkie and turned it on.

Nothing. Not even static. Eleanor’s frown deepened as she took it, opening the battery slot.

"Your luck is shit, man," Rick said between laughs, Morgan echoing him. Eleanor smiled faintly as she swapped the batteries. She turned it on—static at last.

"Rick just got word from Abraham—they’re moving past the last post."

Rick laughed harder, then quickly shut up when Morgan shot him a glare of pure exasperation. She pressed her lips thin and shrugged. Four miles from ACDC to Motherland—it was a miracle Morgan had made it back at all.

"I… appreciate the sentiment?"

Rick wheezed.

"I’m going back," Morgan muttered, almost offended.

"Wait—before I forget," Eleanor called, and he turned. "We were talking… and we found it odd how silent the forest is. Have you come across any raiders or groups as you walked through it?"

Morgan blinked, about to answer—

Until a sudden, distinct sound erupted. Thunder... shots, one after the other, a rifle.
No... that wasn't right.

"Eleanor," Rick said in alert.

"I know," She said, also trying to pinpoint the place it came from. Then something else.

A horn. A truck horn.

Her stomach dropped.

"That’s a truck horn," she said, alarm barely contained. "Where is it coming from?"

Rick straightened, trying to pinpoint it.

But she was the one with the sharper ear. Her face went pale as she caught the direction.
Alexandria. Home.
Carl.

She bolted to the ladder. Instead of climbing down, she slid along the pipes and jumped the last steps.

"Eleanor!" Rick’s voice carried faintly, but she was already running.

Eleanor!

Rick’s voice came through the walkie this time. She cursed, yanking out a blade and slashing a walker in her path.

"It’s back at home! Don’t stop the music! Shoot flares! Tell Aaron and Heath to leave for Alexandria—now! Now!" she screamed into the walkie and kept running.

The sound of the horn grew louder and louder. Between the trees, she caught sight of part of Alexandria’s walls—and gasped for air before sprinting one last time. Her hands slapped the metal as she stopped, pressing her face against the wall. Sure enough, the sound was now distinctive.

The right.

She ran again, following the walls to the right until she spotted the outwatch post, half-leaning over—and then the truck that had literally crashed into the wooden structure.

Somehow, the truck hadn’t broken through the fence, and for that, she was grateful.

She saw Spencer, his rifle forgotten on his back, gripping a blade and hesitating to take down the walker trapped inside the truck. She sneered and shook her head. She was ready to scream bloody murder at him—until another person approached.

Rugged, hatchet in hand. Raiders. It was raiders.

She pulled out her blade, aimed, and threw. The blade landed in the man’s side just as he raised the hatchet over Spencer’s head—Spencer still oblivious. The man grunted and fell to the ground, jolting Spencer into jumping aside, shocked.

Fucking useless shit.

She yanked her blade free and cut the man’s throat before grabbing the walker’s head, pushing it away, and silencing the horn.

The quiet that followed was deafening. She could still hear the echo of the horn in her ears, even though it was gone. Eleanor turned to the walker and finished it.

Her glare shifted to Spencer, who looked lost and scared… She couldn’t even let herself feel pity.

“Give me the rifle,” she ordered, climbing down.

Spencer hesitated, then obeyed—just as Maggie and Deanna came running.

“Maggie!” Eleanor called urgently. “What’s the situation?”

“They climbed the walls and started attacking. No demands, nothing.”

“Where’s Carl?”

“Inside, he—”

Eleanor turned, already climbing the fence along the diagonal beam.

“Eleanor!” Maggie called after her.

“Get back to the sentinel post and fire on anything that moves,” she ordered. She jumped halfway up, swung her arms upward until she reached the metal, and pulled herself over. “Escort Deanna to her home—and Spencer too.”

She dropped down hard on the other side. Pain shot through her legs, but she forced herself to move. Immediately, she spotted another of them—a big, menacing man with a full axe in hand.

At his feet lay someone Eleanor didn’t recognize—cut in literal pieces. She shivered and raised the rifle at him.

“Do you people have a name?” she called. “Or a demand, maybe?”

She noticed the man had a crudely marked “W” on his forehead.

Okay… full-on nutcase. Noted.

He growled and charged, but before she could fire, another shot rang out. He dropped instantly, a bullet through the head.

From between the houses emerged Carl Grimes.

Her breath hitched. She ran to him, clutching the rifle in one hand and reaching out with the other.

“Elle—”

“Are you okay?!” she cut in, voice trembling as she touched his cheek, checking him left and right. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Come here,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her into cover. “What are you doing here? What about the quarry?”

“Fuck the—!” She stopped herself, pinching the bridge of her nose—embarrassed, angry, resigned, deeply chastised.

“Welcome to the club.”

“Shut. The hell. Up.” She glared at him. He looked almost serious—almost. At the corner of his mouth, he was holding back a smirk.

She lifted her chin. “Casualties?”

“Four.”

“And Judith?”

“With Jessie.”

Eleanor nodded, pressing her lips together. “How many?”

“A dozen.”

“Dead?”

“Yes.”

She nodded again. “And the shots we heard?”

“An alarm to alert the people… and alert you.”

She blinked, then nodded once more. Her eyes welled up, and she sniffed.

“I’m okay,” he said, his voice laced with amusement.

She let herself be side-hugged. “Don’t touch me,” she muttered.

“Okay. Imagine I’m taking you to cover. The worst has passed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How are you so sure?”

He pulled out a walkie. “Tara, any more of them?”

No. No more have reached through. Maggie has reached the other outpost.

“Injured?”

Ten. They’re with Denise and Eugene at the moment.

He switched the channel. “Carol, did you find him?”

I have him.

“Who?” Eleanor demanded.

“The leader,” Carl answered. Her eyes widened.

“We need to move now—unless you want to go back to the quarry.”

She glared again, and he grinned for real this time.

“Shouldn’t you be saying something?” he teased.

This little brat. She caught his chin, her frown a mix of annoyance and admonishment—but her thumb brushed his jaw in a fond caress.

“You did good. Very good. I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m proud of you.” She bumped her forehead to his. “I was worried. No matter how capable you are, that won’t change.”

“What about the quarry?” he pressed.

“They can live without me. We both know who’s more important,” she admitted. “Now—wipe that grin off your face. Four people died today.”

He sobered. “It would have been more if it weren’t for me.”

“Correct. Now, let’s get to this leader before we find out if more are on the way… or if the ruckus has drawn walkers to Alexandria.”

She released him, and he shrugged—still smug. Little menace.

“Radio your dad. He’s probably losing his mind by now.”

“Okay.” He opened the channel.

Eleanor sighed as Rick’s voice came through—first screaming bloody murder, then going eerily silent as Carl explained everything was under control.

She blushed. Maybe they were both exaggerating a little. Carl had proved time and time again he could handle worse. She smiled, taking off his hat to ruffle his hair affectionately. He complained and smoothed it back, but didn’t say anything else.

And so, the immediate danger was over. For now.

Neither Eleanor nor Carl could guess what was still coming their way.

For now, the threat—the Wolves—was neutralized.

The Alexandrians had fought or complied to survive both the attack and the walkers. They had followed Eleanor’s lead—and Carl’s. Most impressively, a sixteen-year-old had protected an entire community from raiders.

Something shifted that day. As they mourned the fallen, the Alexandrians looked at Rick’s group—the newcomers—not as outsiders, but as their own.

Nor Eleanor, nor Carl could guess, what was still coming their way.