Chapter Text
You were just passing through.
That is what you told yourself.
There was no need to stop, to linger, to get pulled up at the roadside and wander into the forest so far that you couldn't find your way back out again.
You just needed to pass through.
But instead, you hesitated, and your feet led you down a familiar path.
The dipping sun cascaded warm, golden light through the trees. It would be dusk soon, and you'd have to stop there for the night. Perhaps it was your own fault for dragging the journey out too long, or taking much smaller steps than you usually would.
But perhaps that had been intentional.
Maybe you didn't just want to pass through, after all.
Leaves crunched beneath your boots as you navigated the thick overgrowth, as you stepped through the woods lost in utter nostalgia — counting the number of years it had been since you last came here.
Though, nothing seemed to have really changed; that tree trunk was still there, as was the fallen log you would use as a bench on warm summer evenings. If you squinted, you felt like you might even catch a glimpse of a few crumbs dusting the ground there — left behind from the days you'd spent eating stolen snacks from the pantry.
You'd been younger back then. Wide-eyed and naive, love-struck and helpless.
You walked some more, dazed and wandering through daydreams. The sunset made it look as though the auburn, autumn leaves had been set alight at your feet — burning like embers and scattering like ashes.
It was fitting, you realised, given how Alexandria had looked the last time you'd seen it.
Engulfed in flames.
You tried not to think about it — tried not to smell the smoke that wasn't there — as you made your way through the clearing.
Then, you spotted it.
Camouflaged perfectly against the surrounding trees, a certain pine still managed to catch your eye. It was tall — taller than you remembered — but its bark remained the same.
You trailed your hand along it, feeling the rough divots, the way the wood dipped and cracked and splintered — just like scars atop of skin. Some parts had been battered by the elements, whilst others had just caved with time. Certain areas showed traces of the birds who'd pecked at it, or the wildlife that had scavenged from it.
But there was one part in particular that stood out from the rest.
Because it showed the handiwork of Carl Grimes.
Carved deep within the bark, with his old, rusted pocket knife, was both of your names — sealed with a heart.
The heart had been your idea, of course. A young, dumb, teenage idea. You could still remember the look on Carl's face at the suggestion, before he did it anyway. He probably only carved it to keep you from pestering him, or to save you slicing open your fingertips by attempting it yourself.
The engraving had worn down over time, barely legible now as the pine tree had shed some skin — and taken a number of beatings from the regular storms that passed by. But you could still read it. You hadn't forgotten it was there.
You took a few steps around the trunk, careful not to trip over its protruding roots. Then, your hand dipped in against the tree — into that hollow you were searching for — and you slid inside.
You were older now, and the cavern seemed a lot smaller than you recalled — making you wonder how the two of you had ever squeezed in there together at all. There were a few cobwebs overhead, but you batted them away — before your eyes rested on two other engravings scored deep into the bark above you.
They were height markings.
One for you and one for Carl.
Except, you didn't match yours now; you'd grown since then.
You closed your eyes, scrunching them up tightly to block out all of the light. You tried to picture his face, hear the sound of his voice — hoping that they hadn't faded in your memories over the years. But, as the birds chirped outside the hollow, and the breeze rustled the grass, you realised there was no way you could have forgotten Carl Grimes.
Because when you opened your eyes, he was right there.
"You got taller," he remarked — only his smirk visible under the shade of his hat.
But then he tipped his head up, and you met his eyes. Both of them, not a bandage in sight. He looked a little younger, hair fluffy — the ends having a slight curl to them. He looked as he did when he carved your initials into this very tree, and you glanced down at his hands, almost expecting to see that same pocket knife in them.
"Only a little," you whispered back.
You swallowed the nervousness away, trying to trust your voice more as it ricocheted off the hollow carcass of the pine tree.
"Do you remember?" you asked, mustering up the courage to look straight ahead — at the boy whose face was not even inches away from yours. "Do you remember when you carved our names into this tree?" you continued, pointing to the score marks level with his head, "and my height next to yours?"
Back then, he'd insisted on wearing his hat when you measured him — promising that he was nearly that tall, anyway. But, you'd made him take it off, scolding him for cheating, and reassuring that he still had room to grow.
Your breath caught.
"You're still shorter than me," he replied, looking down at you with a warm, tentative smile.
And you nodded. "Only a little."
His eyes were far more blue than you recalled. They were piercing — not a dull, stormy grey, but a vibrant, ocean blue. They looked like the summer days you'd spent in Alexandria, like a sky without a single cloud.
"It's been a while," the boy said, and you nodded once more.
"I know."
Your words sounded shaky, as they echoed against the wood and settled at your ears. So, you cleared your throat and tried again.
"I'm sorry I haven't come sooner," you said, suddenly feeling the guilt lay thick on your shoulders, much heavier than Carl's stare. "I miss you."
The confession weighed on your tongue. It was something that was always on your mind, but always remained unsaid. After all, the people you surrounded yourself with now didn't remember Carl Grimes — they'd never even known him.
But the boy still smiled, despite how your lip quivered.
"I'm right here," he reassured you, flashing those eyes at you.
He was right there, you told yourself, and sighed.
"Yeah," you responded, "you're everywhere in this place."
His smile faltered, and you could see a flicker of sadness behind those brilliant, blue eyes.
A breeze tapered in, and whistled through the cracks of the tree, making the spiderwebs tremble and your heart miss a beat.
"That's why it's so hard," you admitted, and slid back out of the hollow.
The walls of Alexandria were even taller than before. They looked to have been built back up, and reinforced three times over. Yet, they were still recognisable. Part of you even expected to see Daryl Dixon manning the gate, or another face from the past looking down at you from the watchtowers.
But — unlike before — it was a hassle to get in.
You weren't familiar, and neither were the guards. So many people had come and gone since you'd last stepped foot in Alexandria — so now it was you who seemed like a ghost, haunting those inside who tried to move on.
Though eventually, you were granted entrance.
The streets felt the same as they did when you were a teenager, running barefoot over the cobblestone and teasing the neighbours who shouted at you to slow down. A few houses were new, as were some of the fields growing crops. It looked as though they'd expanded a lot — and accommodated even more people than before.
Alexandria was bustling, but at the same time it felt empty.
"Your house burnt down," Carl spoke, from beside you.
He pointed up at one of the buildings, perched on the end of a street which felt as familiar yet fleeting as a dream.
"But they built a new one in its place."
You hummed, taking a few steps closer to it, close enough to see the second-story window. Except, this time there was no make-shift ladder hanging from it — poorly tied together from bed sheets.
"We'd climb out of the windows every night to meet each other," you muttered, as if you were talking to yourself.
Well, as if you'd finally remembered that you were.
"And I'd always stick the landing," you laughed, glancing back at the boy with an amused expression. "There was never a time where I didn't have scraped knees."
He chuckled in return, and the sound made tears prick at your eyes — but you blinked them away before he could catch them.
"I did try to help," he protested, crossing his arms over his chest. "But you fell on me," he retorted, "nearly broke my neck."
He tried to scowl, but his lip wobbled — and gave him away. Neither of you could contain your laughter at the other's expression.
Just like when you were kids.
"I did, didn't I?" you cried, beaming from ear to ear. "I'd forgotten about that," you confessed, staring back up at that freshly painted house.
But then, you recalled the next part of the story, and the tears brimmed at your eyes once again — but from pure joy this time.
"Do you- do you remember your dad's face when he caught us?" you asked, wheezing between your words.
As a young girl, nothing scared you more than the vision of Rick Grimes at midnight, with his holstered pistol and frown-lines so deep they made your daring nature crumble.
Carl groaned, and shook his head. "Now that's something I'd rather forget."
But you went on — doing a double-take around the area as if to check for yourself that the officer wasn't there, looming over your shoulder.
"Carl Grimes!" you yelled, imitating his father's booming voice. A passerby gave you a strange glance, but the light behind Carl's eyes was worth every second of judgement. "I better not catch you sneaking out again!" you scolded with a southern twang, wagging your finger in his direction.
The young boy grinned at you.
It wasn't that sheepish smile you were used to seeing from him, on those night's you'd sneak out together and he'd steal glimpses of you when he thought you weren't looking.
No.
This was a full, brilliant smile. One which made your heart hurt.
"You haven't changed at all," he murmured quietly, below his breath.
And your warm expression faltered under the clinical luminance of the street lamp overhead — which made his skin look a sickly, pale grey.
Neither have you, you'd nearly answered, but instead remained silent.
The sun had almost set completely as you walked the perimeter of the wall — trying to find the place you used to escape from.
They'd probably boarded it up by now, you realised.
Yet, you continued on through the wispy grass, lingering further and further into the shadows.
"What are you looking for?" Carl asked, following at your heels.
You ran your hand along the metal walls, feeling the divots in the slats, and catching your fingertips on the nuts and bolts that protruded.
"It's somewhere around here," you told him, briefly closing your eyes to try and recall how the place had looked before.
Then, you saw it.
It was barely noticeable, really, but still too suspicious to slip your glance.
You toed the rock with your boot, flipping it over until you saw the painted side. It was what the two of you used to mark the part in the fence where you could sneak out — if you had the key to the padlock, that is.
The stone was covered with moss now, and the orange paint had chipped away, but it was still there — buried under thick grass.
"This is where you tried to kiss me," you announced, your breath forming a cloud in the cool, nighttime air.
You looked back at Carl with a soft smile, only to find him shuffling on the balls of his feet — as though he'd rather forget the memory.
"But Daryl had just come back from a hunt and yelled at us," you whispered, too tired this time to laugh.
"I know," he nodded, watching as you bent down to thumb over that orange stone.
It crumbled beneath your touch — making you realise just how much time had passed.
And how cruel a thing time was.
"Do you remember," you asked, barely above a whisper, "how much your hands were shaking?"
Your eyes trailed down towards the boy's palms, but you didn't dare wonder whether they were warm.
"They felt like butterfly wings against my cheek," you told him, and waited.
Except, he didn't say anything back.
You whipped around to search for him, fearing that he'd just left again, disappeared without saying goodbye. But, you stumbled into something — someone.
"Oh, I'm sorry I wasn't watching where I was going!" you quickly apologised, holding your hands up. "Who are-"
You stopped, letting the words hang in the night sky as your lip trembled over them.
"Judith?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer. "Judith Grimes?"
The young girl narrowed her eyes at you, making an expression you'd seen only once before — usually worn by another Grimes kid who was suddenly nowhere to be found.
She had long, chestnut hair, with a braid on one side, and had grown into Lori's eyes — as well as her brother's hat.
"How do you know my name?" she demanded, but her voice was too high and too soft to be intimidating.
Her fingers thumbed over the knife at her hip, awaiting your response. You couldn't exactly blame her for being cautious. It was understandable. You were unfamiliar to her — almost as much as she was now to you.
"You look just like him," you stammered. "And you're-" you sighed, collecting yourself. "The hat," you explained, pointing to it, "you're wearing the hat."
The young girl didn't look convinced, but she didn't have to be.
You heard footsteps approaching, sounding exactly the same as they had done when you were a kid.
"Michonne-" you greeted, as she emerged from the shadows.
Out of the few things that hadn't changed in Alexandria, Michonne was definitely one of them. She looked the same as she did on the day that you left — except now her face wasn't tearstained, nor were her clothes caked in blood.
She walked forward, placing a hand on Judith's shoulder to calm her. Then, she met your eyes — and her expression made you crumble nearly as fast as Rick's used to.
"Well, would you look at that?" she smiled, taking in the sight of you under the dim moonlight. "You sure have grown up."
You nodded, before letting your gaze shyly drop to your feet.
"It's been a while," she coaxed, warmly.
A familiar guilt bubbled up, until you could feel it on your tongue.
"So I've heard," you replied, smally.
A breeze blew and rustled the leaves at your foot, uncovering more of that amber-painted rock. The woman glanced down at it, and then back at you.
"I was hoping I could stay the night," you explained, prompted by her eyes. "Since it's too dark to keep going."
Michonne didn't hesitate.
"Of course," she replied, squeezing your own shoulder with her other hand. "You're always welcome here."
Her touch felt foreign — almost like you'd expected it to pass straight through you. After all, Alexandra seemed like a ghost town now.
Or perhaps you were the ghost, lingering about where you didn't belong.
"You know," the woman started, eyeing the way you trembled beneath her palm, "you don't have to leave in the morning."
She brushed Judith's hair behind her ear as she spoke, looking down upon her lovingly.
"We were-" she paused, as if debating her next words. "We were going to visit the church," she announced, watching your expression carefully. "To bring some flowers to Carl," she explained. "You could come if-"
"No," you interrupted.
The young girl flinched at the harshness of your tone, and Michonne's eyes widened for a brief second, before softening again.
"I'm sorry, I just-" you stuttered, fumbling with your words for an excuse.
"It's okay," Michonne dismissed, letting her hand drop from your shoulder. "You don't have to explain."
You nodded, but still felt guilty for not doing so.
In truth, you didn't want to pray at his grave because you were more than happy to be haunted by his ghost.
The ghost of his memory, that is.
So, you watched Carl's family turn their back on you and leave — just as you had done to them all those years back.
The moon was high overhead, casting its pale glow over Alexandria, and Carl Grimes stood at your side, shaking his head as you looked on sadly.
That night, you clambered up to the roof of the gazebo.
It had burnt down during the attack, but you'd been told that Michonne and Rick rebuilt it afterwards — in remembrance of Carl. It didn't look exactly how it did before, but once you laid back atop that roof, staring up into the starry sky, that didn't matter.
All that mattered was the view.
"Everything here reminds me of you," you told him, peering over at the boy lying beside you. "Even this sky."
His eyes were bright — shining as they stared up at the flickering stars.
"I still have your letter," you confessed. "All of the words have smudged now, and the edges are frayed. But I still remember it."
Your breath was white against the black sky, floating in clouds above you. You turned your head to the side, looking only at him.
"Did you really mean what you said?"
Carl's eyes flickered to yours, and he nodded.
"Yeah."
His hair was splayed back on the roof slats, quivering in the breeze. You swore you could almost feel it tickling your neck — but you knew better than that.
"I know you're just in my memories," you breathed, not missing the way his smile sank at your words. "Something I've conjured up from deja vu and refuse to let go of."
He opened his mouth to speak, but you carried on before he could.
"And that's okay," you told him, attempting a smile of your own.
You let your head fall back. The sky was so beautiful. It was another thing that hadn't changed — despite all of the time that had passed. No matter how different Alexandria looked now, how much bigger and more vibrant it had become, its sky remained the same.
Just like the boy beside you.
"I miss you every day, Carl Grimes," you whispered, quiet enough for only you to hear.
"I know," he replied, looking up at that same sky.
You fell asleep atop of the gazebo that night, right at the heart of Alexandria. The breeze was gentle against your skin, the leaves rustled on the hollow trees, the residents were tucked away safely in their beds.
And you laid there, alone-
Lost in the feeling of deja vu and haunted by a boy still very much alive in your memories.
When the golden, autumn light woke you up the next morning — settling warmly over your skin as you soaked it up on that gazebo — you began to think that maybe you didn't have to just pass through the community.
Perhaps you would stay in Alexandria for another day.
And maybe even the day after that.