Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Carl strode through the woods, searching for the man he'd met at the gas station and hoping he was okay. He had checked and knew the stranger must have found the cans of food he'd left, which he was glad about. He understood his father's worry about the stranger being a spy for the Saviors, but he disagreed. The man seemed to have been really desperate for food and water, which the Saviors had plenty of. Carl hoped he could find the man and, if he could be trusted, bring him back to Alexandria. Just hoping, like his Dad was doing, would not be enough to ensure the man’s survival or the new world after the war. If they were to rebuild a real civilisation, they needed to start actually helping people.

This train of thought led him to think about the letters detailing the war’s progress. Carl was relieved that, despite the inevitable casualties, his father’s group had won their battle. Although he was disappointed they hadn't tried to take any prisoners. Carl knew many of the Saviors were genuinely bad and needed to be stopped, but he also knew there were a number of Saviors that were just afraid of standing up to Negan, and could possibly be convinced to live in peace if they knew it was possible. Carl was glad Jesus was attempting this, and hoped it would work out. If they could prove that peace could be formed between the current enemies, they could end the war with far less casualties and have a better chance of building a better world.

He was also saddened to hear Carol’s report of the massacre that destroyed Ezekiel’s army. He hoped this would not mean the end of the Kingdom, but rather that they'd be able to continue standing.

He sincerely hoped that the siege around the Sanctuary would succeed in forcing Negan and the Saviors to surrender peacefully, and that his Dad and the other leaders would accept it without further bloodshed. Otherwise all the sacrifices could be for nothing and the remaining survivors may wind up killing too many of each other.

Carl heard growls coming from through the trees, leading him to find a walker impaled on a spike and reaching for a plastic bag hanging from a branch. Carl started moving towards it, when suddenly the stranger he had been looking for walked out of the trees and stabbed a knife through the back of the walker’s head.

“Hey!” Carl called out, prompting the man to look over nervously. Carl raised his hands to show he meant no harm, slowly walked over and continued. “It was my Dad. They were-they were warning shots above your head. He wasn't shooting at you. I'm Carl.”

“Siddiq,” the man introduced himself after hesitating a moment.

“Food and water?” Carl reached over and offered the bag he'd been carrying.

“Why?” Siddiq asked warily.

“I guess you-you were talking about something your Mum said” Carl explained. “About helping people. My Mum told me that you gotta do what's right. Hard to know what that is sometimes, but sometimes it's not.” Carl then tossed the bag towards Siddiq, who immediately moved to grab the water bottle out and took a long drink.

“Thanks,” Siddiq said after finishing.

“I'm glad I found you,” Carl said, happy he'd been able to help the man.

“You were looking for me?” Siddiq asked, getting back up.

“Yeah I-I scavenged for sardines, other stuff. Me and my Dad, we’re in a community,” Carl explained. He then decided it was time to figure out if Siddiq could really fit into the community. “I'm gonna ask you a few questions. I need you to answer honestly, OK?”

“Okay,” Siddiq answered.

“How many walkers have you killed?” Carl asked. “I know it's hard to keep-.”

“237,” Siddiq interrupted.

“Really?” Carl asked, impressed by the large number and the fact he remembered the exact number.

Siddiq glanced back at the impaled walker and said “Give or take a couple,” then looked back towards the boy.

“How many people have you killed?” Carl asked.

“One,” Siddiq answered.

At least he wasn't a bloodthirsty serial killer then, Carl thought, which was promising, though the next question would best show what kind of man he was. “Why?”

“The dead tried to kill him,” Siddiq answered, “but, they didn't.”

“You're making walker traps,” Carl gestured towards the impaled walker, curious about why Siddiq had done so. “Is that how you killed so many?”

“It's-It’s only a part of it,” Siddiq answered. “My Mum thought, or hoped that killing them would, free their souls. You know, maybe, maybe she was right.”

“Doing that, doesn't that just make things harder for you while you're trying to survive?” Carl asked.

“I-I don't know, I-,“ Siddiq answered. “But you gotta-you gotta honour your parents, right?”

“If I was honouring my Dad we wouldn't be talking right now,” Carl responded, thinking of his father’s current inability to give strangers a chance, “and I definitely wouldn't bring you back to my community.” This man had earned a place at Alexandria, Carl decided.

Carl then started leading Siddiq back through the woods towards the Safe-Zone, explaining the current situation on the way. On their way back, they noticed three walkers devouring a deer. Taking out his knife, Carl decided to help Siddiq honour his Mum’s desire for the dead to be put down, just as he was honouring his own Mum by helping Siddiq.

“Okay,” Carl said, “for your Mum.” The two then proceeded towards the small group of walkers, who were now noticing them. Carl and Siddiq moved to one walker each, Siddiq quickly knifing his in the head and moving on to the third.

Carl forced his to its knees and stabbed its head. “Just go” he heard Siddiq call. “You don't have to do this.” He looked over and saw his companion grappling with the third walker, while several more walkers they hadn't expected were arriving at the scene.

“You are not safe.”

Carl didn't hesitate to rush over to help him. Unexpectedly, Siddiq, who didn't see him coming, accidentally pushed the walker into Carl, startling him and causing him to drop the knife and stumble into the path of another walker, which pushed him down onto the deceased deer.

“No matter how many people are around,”

Carl grabbed the walker’s shoulders and desperately tried to keep it from getting close enough to bite him. While struggling to get the heavy weight off him, Carl noticed a second walker moving towards his pinned form.

“or how clear the area looks,”

Carl managed to shove the walker off of him to the side, but was unable to kill it or move before the second walker landed on him and took its place.

“no matter what anyone says,”

Carl desperately struggled to push the walker away. Suddenly a searing pain tore through him, spreading from his abdomen, making him gasp due to the agony.

“no matter what you think,”

He glanced down, not wanting to believe what had just happened, and saw to his horror that the first walker had ducked under the one he was holding up, and sunk its teeth into his abdomen. It remained there for a moment, then moved away, its teeth ripping out of Carl and sending more waves of pain through him.

“you are not safe.”

Carl then overcame the momentary shock, reached his hand down to grab his gun, cursing himself for not using it earlier despite the number of walkers being small, and used it to shoot the two walkers. He glanced up to check on Siddiq and saw that he had finished the rest of the walkers. Carl sat there in shock, trying to get his breath back and struggling to process what had just happened.

“It only takes one second.”

‘I got bit,’ he thought.

“One second,”

‘I got bit.’

“and its over.”

‘I'm going to die.’

Carl slowly stood back up, still trying to come to terms with what was happening to him. “You okay?” he heard Siddiq ask, his voice sounding distant through the haze of shock and pain.

“Yeah,” Carl muttered, barely hearing himself.

Siddiq shook his head and said “You could've left.” Carl didn't respond, slowly walking towards him, then looking back towards the walker that bit him. “Carl?” Siddiq said, sounding really concerned now.

Carl finally overcame the shock and chose not to tell him yet about the bite, deciding the only thing that mattered now was getting Siddiq to Alexandria. Turning to Siddiq, he said “I'm responsible for you now. It's how it works.”

“I don't want to make any trouble,” Siddiq protested. “Your Dad didn't want anything to do with me.”

“He didn't but, sometimes kids have to find their own way,” Carl responded, thinking about his dream for a better future with peace between the communities, “and show their parents the way.” He then moved to grab their stuff, and continued leading Siddiq back to towards Alexandria, for what the dying boy realised would be the last time.

“Never let your guard down, ever.”

Carl led Siddiq around the side of the community towards one of the sewer pipes. He had previously planned that, if he did find Siddiq, in order to prevent anyone from immediately chasing him off, Carl would hide the man in the sewerage system until he got a chance to talk to his Dad about letting him stay.

Carl explained this to Siddiq, then they opened up the entrance. “It's just until I can talk to my Dad,” Carl said, then climbed down the ladder into the sewerage system, Siddiq following him. Lighting a torch he retrieved from his bag, Carl led the way through the tunnel to a corner where he then set up and lit some candles, allowing Siddiq to see better.

“I'll go in to see if my Dad’s there,” Carl said. “He went off to negotiate with another group. I don't know if he's back yet. If he isn't, I'll bring back some food for you.”

“Thank you,” Siddiq said. “I'm really grateful for everything you've done for me.”

Carl smiled. “Like my Mum said, we gotta do what's right,” he said, thinking back to her last words to him. “I'll be back soon.” He then climbed back out of the sewer and headed inside Alexandria.

After checking on Judith, who Barbara was babysitting, Carl went to his house and into the bathroom, the privacy allowing him to stop pretending nothing was wrong. He removed his bloodstained shirt, revealing the teeth marks surrounded by red bloodstains on his abdomen. He stared at himself in the mirror, the reality of the situation sinking in further, thinking back to when Jim was bit back in the Atlanta Camp, as well as Bob at the church, and knowing he had less than a day left before he succumbed to the upcoming fever.

Less than a day left to say goodbye to his friends and family, some of which he would not get the chance to see again during that time.

He cleaned and bandaged the bite, got dressed again, disposed of the ruined clothing, and decided to make the most of the time he had left.

Carl walked through the community to look for his Dad. Seeing Tobin on guard duty, Carl joined him on the wall to ask him if his Dad had gotten back.

“He's probably still negotiating with the Scavengers,” Tobin said. This worried Carl, remembering the Scavengers’ previous betrayal and hoping they hadn't done anything to him. Seeming to sense what Carl was thinking, Tobin said “Don't worry. Your Dad’s tough. He'll be alright.”

After a moment, Tobin continued, “If he's not back soon, we’ll meet him there,” referencing the plan for the groups of fighters to meet at the Sanctuary. “Hopefully they'll be with him.”

“What about Michonne?” Carl asked, as she'd be the next person after his Dad to talk to about Siddiq. This seemed to prompt Tobin to remember something important; he then took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Carl. Seeing his name on it, Carl took the letter out and read.

I had to see it for myself.

I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye first. Will be back soon.

Michonne.

Carl felt some slight despair come over him, as he wondered just how many of his loved ones he would not get the chance to see again before he passed away. He decided to write letters to each of them just in case, though he hoped some would return in time.

After thanking Tobin, he then went to visit Siddiq, bringing with him a portable fold-up bed and a candy bar. They spent some time sharing the candy bar and chatting with each other, Carl enjoying getting to know his new friend.

Later, he sat alone in a room to begin writing his letters to various people. He wrote some to each of the members of the group he had arrived at Alexandria with, reminiscing on past memories of them and pleading for them each to find a way to live a peaceful life.

He reminisced in Michonne's letter about their journey together, confessing to thinking of her as a mother figure, and asking her to not be too sad or angry after his passing but to remain strong for his father and Judith.

He reminisced in his father's letter about the happier life they and the rest of their family used to have before the apocalypse, talking about how he wants his Dad and everyone else to feel safe again, that if the Saviors don't just surrender, his Dad needs to find a way to make peace with Negan and allow all their peoples to move forward and build a better world together.

He looked at Enid's ‘just survive somehow’ note again, then proceeded to write to her as well, reminiscing on their friendship and brief relationship, saying he wished they could have had more time together, asking her to avoid isolating herself again and to try to continue living a happy life, and finally telling her he loved her.

He also decided to write a letter to Negan, hoping someone would make sure the man read it. Like in the letter for his father, Carl wrote to Negan asking for him to stop fighting, and to try to find a way to start a peaceful life for everyone. He'd seen the faint glimpses of humanity in the tyrant, so Carl knew there was a possibility they could make peace. They just needed to try.

After finishing his letters, Carl then went to find Judith, wanting one last chance to play with his baby sister. He sat with her in the rocking chair, made painted hand prints on the porch with her, and took a picture of the two of them sitting together, all the while thinking about how much he loved her, reminiscing on his memories of her as well as their mother, and wishing she would be able to grow up safe and happy in the world he hoped his father would build.

While planting in the garden later on, he saw Michonne drive back into the community, waving at him as she drove past. He smiled and waved back, happy she had returned safely and that he would at least be able to see her again before the end.

He then removed his hat and leaned back, enjoying the sun on his face and thinking that if this was to be his last day on Earth, at least it was a pretty good day.

That evening after sundown, Carl headed back to the sewer pipe to bring more supplies to Siddiq.

“Carl,” he heard a familiar voice say from the side. Turning, he saw Michonne walking towards him. “I've been looking for you. We’re about ready to head out. What are you doing?” she asked seeing him by the open sewer entrance.

“I'm helping someone,” Carl confessed, then gestured toward the entrance. “A traveler.”

“In the sewer?” she asked incredulously. Before Carl could answer, a loud banging sound came from the gate, causing both to turn towards it in alarm. Then a familiar voice, amplified by a loudspeaker, carried across the community and horrifying everyone.

“YOU MAY BE WONDERING WHY THE HELL YOUR LOOKOUTS DIDN’T SOUND THE ALARM. SEE, WE ARE POLITE. I MEAN I DON’T KNOW WHEN THEY’RE GONNA WAKE UP, BUT THEY SHOULD WAKE UP. SO LET’S JUST CUT THROUGH THE COW SHIT. YOU LOSE. IT’S OVER. YOU’RE GONNA LINE UP IN FRONT OF THE HOUSES AND YOU’RE GONNA WORK ON SOME APOLOGIES, AND THEN THE PERSON WITH THE LAMEST ONE, IS GONNA GET KILLED.”

As Negan was saying all this, Carl desperately tried to think of a plan to get everyone out of this, remembering that he'd been put in charge while his Dad was gone. He looked back and saw several Alexandrians gathering behind him.

“THEN I KILL RICK IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY AND WE MOVE ON. YOU HAVE THREE, A COUNT OF THREE MINUTES TO OPEN THIS GATE OR WE START BOMBING THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!”

“They got out,” Michonne said, horrified.

“C'mon,” Carl said, closing the manhole back up as Negan started his infamous whistle, then getting back up. “Michonne,” Carl said, the woman frozen and staring towards the gate. “Come on,” he repeated, snapping her out of it, then the two ran towards the rest of the group.

With Michonne, Daryl, Rosita, Tara, Tobin, Bruce and Scott gathered around him, Carl explained his plan to distract the Saviors while everyone else made their separate ways into the sewers, forewarning them of Siddiq’s presence there. “We need to make it look like we’re escaping out back,” he told Daryl, Michonne, Rosita and Tara, who were to fool the Saviors with a fake escape attempt, while he gathered smoke grenades into his bag. “Into the woods, half way to the quarry, cut the lights. Wait ‘til we get enough of a lead on them, hit them, and get away on foot. You know where we'll be. Just have to get the guns, get everyone else here, and we’ll meet you there.”

“TWO MINUTES PEOPLE,” Negan continued from outside the gate. “DIG DEEP. I WANT THESE APOLOGIES TO BE MEMORABLE. BONUS POINTS FOR CREATIVITY. WORK UP A POEM, MAKE IT A SONG, I LOVE THAT SHIT!”

“Get going,” Carl said to Tobin, Scott and Bruce. “There's gonna be people in the infirmary, they're gonna need your help.” Tobin nodded, and the three men took off.

Tara stepped forward and said “Look we got guns, we can fight them.”

“But not now, Carl's right,” Rosita responded.

“Carl, we can't just let them have this place,” Michonne insisted.

“We can,” Carl responded. “All we need to do is survive tonight. This is my show, you said it. This is my plan, and you’re gonna do it. You’re all gonna do it. So let's go!” At that, the other four headed in the direction of the trucks they would use for their diversion, Daryl nodding to Carl. Carl headed the opposite way towards the gate.

“ONE MINUTE. ONE MINUTE.”

‘Time for my last stand then,’ Carl thought to himself.

As Carl started climbing the ladder up the gate, he heard Negan continue. “OKEY DOKEY. YOU BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELF RICK. YOU SEE I WAS WILLING TO WORK WITH YOU. ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS FOLLOW A FEW VERY SIMPLE RULES. NOW, WELL NOW I SEE THAT YOU’VE GOT TO GO. SCORCHED EARTH, YOU DICK!”

“He's not home,” Carl called as he reached the top, prompting the Saviors to look his direction and aim their weapons at him.

“Oh-ho-holy shit!” Negan said as he saw the boy. “Everybody hold your fire, it's Carl. Look at you, answering the door like a big boy. I am so proud.” Negan smirked. “Daddy's not home huh? Well I guess he's gonna get back to a big old smoky surprise.”

“There's families in here,” Carl said, trying to get through to Negan’s humanity. “Kids. My little sister.”

Negan stopped smirking. “Well, that shit just breaks my heart,” he said. “There's kids at the Sanctuary. You must’ve seen ‘em. Even had a little baby at one of the outposts. I wonder what happened to her.”

Carl couldn't answer this. He'd heard someone mention finding a baby at the outpost his Dad had attacked, his Dad upset at having mistakenly killed the baby’s father. He knew the baby was okay and now at the Hilltop, though he wasn't sure he should tell Negan this, not knowing if it would cause more problems.

“None of this shit’s fair, kid,” Negan continued. “Hell, you know that. You had to kill your own Mum. That is screwed up.” Carl forced down his anger towards Negan for reminding him of that, especially in front of all these Saviors. “Ergo, we need someone in charge who’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that shit doesn't happen. Oh wait,” Negan smiled and moved his hands to his sides, “that's me!”

“Bad stuff does happen, but we can figure this out,” Carl argued. “We can stop this.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” Negan asked incredulously. “See your Dad had it that I died no matter what. He gave my people a choice. Not me. Now we’re gonna need a new understanding. Apologies, punish-.”

“Kill me!” Carl interjected, shocking everyone.

Negan’s smile vanished, replaced with a look of shock and confusion. He stepped forward and asked “What did you say?”

“If you have to kill someone,” Carl said, “if there has to be punishment, then kill me.” And he realised that he meant it; even if he didn't have a plan he'd still give his life to protect everyone else. “I'm serious.”

“You wanna die?” Negan asked, still looking confused.

“No, I don't,” Carl answered, thinking about how much he wanted to live for; to stay with his family and friends, to watch his baby sister grow up, to continue dating Enid, to help do his part in building the communities into a civilisation. “But I will. It's gonna happen,” he continued, thinking about the bite he had received, the fever he could now feel starting to kick in. “And i-if me dying can stop this, if it can make things different - for us, for you, for all those other kids - it’d be worth it.”

At this, Negan looked away for a moment, then back towards him, with something almost like sorrow on his face.

“I mean, was this the plan?” Carl asked, not just trying to keep Negan's attention but genuinely trying to get through to the humanity in him and get him to change. “Was it supposed to be this way? Is this who you wanted to be?”

Before anything more could be said, they heard the sounds of Michonne's group smashing their vehicles through the walls and driving away. Before Negan could react, Carl immediately ducked out of sight and began quickly climbing down the ladder.

“SON OF A BITCH, CARL!” Carl heard Negan shout angrily. “WAS THAT JUST A PLAY?! I THOUGHT WE WERE HAVIN’ A MOMENT, YOU LITTLE ASSHOLE! BOMBS AWAY!”

After that signal, Carl heard the sounds of numerous grenade launchers firing, followed by explosions as the grenades landed behind him amongst the houses. He dropped down the remaining distance towards the ground, then stood up while being startled by a nearby house blowing up. He grabbed his hat and started moving away from the wall while using smoke grenades for cover. He avoided another exploding house, then continued limping through the community, no longer able to move very quickly due to his fever worsening. Before he could go any further, a car directly in front of him suddenly blew up, blasting him back and knocking him out.

When Carl came to, the first thing he noticed was that his fever had worsened even further; his forehead was beginning to burn, he was sweating, and a sick feeling was spreading in him. Forcing himself to get up, Carl gazed through the thick fog of smoke, noticing Tobin in the distance leading a group of survivors along the street. Carl smiled, glad he'd managed to save at least most of the Safe-Zone’s residents.

Carl leaned down to pick up his hat and put it back on. Then he staggered over towards a nearby house and leaned against the wall, trying to regain his bearings. He mourned the destruction of the place, though attempted to remind himself that if the war came to an end, the survivors could rebuild it. Suddenly, he heard a grenade land nearby and, despite how bad his condition was, he forced himself to run, the house and its neighbour exploding into flames seconds later.

Carl looked back briefly, thinking about how that had been someone's home and wondering whose it was. He turned around, seeing more fires and ruins throughout the community. He forced himself to slowly start moving again, limping and gasping with pain due to how agonising the fever had now become.

After a few more minutes, which felt more like hours, he finally made it to the sewer hole. Through the smoke, he saw two figures moving towards him. One of them shouted “ON THE GROUND, KID!” Immediately Carl set off another smoke grenade, then quickly opened the sewer hole and climbed in, quickly closing it after him. Looking through the gaps in the manhole cover, he saw the two Saviors stand over him, looking around for him but not noticing the manhole, before leaving to search elsewhere.

Carl took a moment to rest, then made his way through the sewer, finally coming across most of the survivors along with Siddiq. He checked amongst the survivors and saw to his immense relief that Judith was there and unharmed, then he moved to sit by Siddiq.

“Carl?” Siddiq asked, shocked by the boy’s terrible condition. “What happened to you?”

Carl vaguely noticed everyone's attention on him, and said “It happened when we fought those walkers in the woods.”

As soon as he said those words, the Alexandrians realised he'd been bit and were saddened, while Siddiq looked horrified and guilt-stricken. “It wasn't your fault,” Carl attempted to console him, “I should have been more careful.”

Siddiq couldn't say anything to this, so he tried to help Carl into a comfortable position.

Sometime later, he noticed more people coming, and looked up to see Daryl, Tara and Rosita looking down at him, shocked by his appearance. “Where's Michonne?” Carl, now soaked with sweat, asked them.

“She was with us until we went into the manhole, but she shut us in and went into the town.” Tara explained after regaining her composure. “What happened to you?”

Carl started worrying, hoping Michonne would be okay. He then told them what happened to him. Too emotionally wrought by the evening’s events to respond, the three sat down, Daryl taking Judith and holding on to her, Tara and Rosita crying slightly.

Carl noticed they hadn't come alone, Dwight having come in with them. “What's he doing here?” Carl asked, confused as to why their spy in the Saviors was there.

“His cover got blown,” Rosita answered. “He can't go back to them.”

Carl nodded to this, then leaned back against the wall, trying to rest as the fever worsened. Later, he vaguely heard more footsteps, and forced himself to focus, seeing Michonne and his father standing there looking towards Siddiq, his father surprised to see the man there. Relieved that they were okay, he got their attention by saying “I brought him here.”

His Dad and Michonne looked towards him, immediately looking alarmed and concerned upon noticing his horrible condition, his Dad kneeling in front of him. Knowing they had noticed, Carl continued “That's how it happened.” He proceeded to lift his shirt and partially remove the bandage, revealing the bite, before covering it again. Michonne dropped to her knees, looking horrified and grief-stricken, while his Dad was in a state of shock and disbelief at what he was seeing.

Silence reigned over them for a few moments as they tried to process what was happening, interrupted only by the occasional booms of the explosions above them.

“I…I don't-,” his Dad started, stuttering.

“Dad,” Carl whispered.

“How-,“ his Dad tried again.

“Dad,” Carl interrupted. “I wasn't sure if you'd make it back before-,“ he couldn't finish the sentence. He then pulled out the letters. “Just in case, you know? I wanted to make sure I was able to say goodbye.” He then passed the letters to Michonne.

“No, its them.” his Dad insisted, gesturing upwards, grasping at straws in an attempt to believe his injury wasn't a walker bite but rather something that they could fix. “It's them-they-they don't-it-it wasn't-,“ he trailed off.

“Carl,” Michonne said desperately, tears down her face.

“No, no,” his Dad tried again.

“I got bit,” Carl forced himself to say. “I was bringing someone back. His name’s Siddiq. We saw him at that gas station before. It wasn't the Saviors, it just happened. I got bit.” Nobody could say anything to that, so they just sat there silently crying.

Carl’s fever continued to get worse. His Dad and Michonne moved him onto the portable bed Siddiq had been sitting on in an attempt to help him feel more comfortable. “That better?” Michonne asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” Carl quietly responded, feeling very weak now.

“I, um, I got these,” he heard Siddiq say, his Dad and Michonne turning towards the newcomer. Glancing in the same direction, Carl noticed him, with some tear trails on his face, holding some medication. “They were over the counter. They'll help, a little, with the fever. They did for my Mum and Dad,” he explained, looking down during the last sentence, then glancing back up. “Please take them,” he pleaded. “Your son, he can have them.”

Carl’s Dad took them, then after a moment asked “You're a doctor?”

“I was a resident, before. Yeah,” Siddiq answered.

“Your name’s Siddiq?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Turning to Carl, his Dad asked “Did you know, that he was a doctor? Is that why you brought him back?”

“He wasn't gonna make it alone,” Carl whispered. “He needed us. That's why.”

His Dad nodded, then muttered “He was the one at the gas station.”

Suddenly, an explosion went off directly above them, filling the air over Carl with dust and sending the sick boy into a coughing fit. As his lungs desperately tried to expel the dust he'd breathed in, his Dad quickly moved over him to shield him from the falling dust and placed a water bottle to his mouth. “Slowly, slowly,” he told him as Carl desperately drank. After a few sips, his coughing eased up and he was able to relax again.

“Make it stop!” Carl heard Michonne demand. Glancing over, he saw Michonne moving towards Dwight before slamming him against the wall. “Make them stop!” He saw her continue to plead with the former Savior to make the Saviors stop, before Rosita approached her and got her to calm down. Daryl and Tara also approached them. Carl couldn't hear all of what they said due to how exhausted he'd gotten, but picked up on that they planned to evacuate to the Hilltop after the Saviors had left. Michonne then came back to him and his Dad.

“You left,” Carl chided Michonne a while later, referencing her decision to check on the now failed siege around the Sanctuary despite still recovering from her injuries. “You were supposed to be resting.”

After joking with her, he turned serious and said “It's gotta stop, Michonne. It's not supposed to be like this,” referring to the constant violence. “I know it can be better.” The woman then looked down, trying to keep her composure. His Dad reached and placed his hand on hers.

Daryl then came over and passed Judith to her Dad. “I'm gonna go take a look.” Daryl placed a supportive hand on his shoulder for a moment, then walked back down the tunnel.

After some more time passed, having not heard anymore explosions, Carl heard Michonne say to his Dad “The Saviors are gone. We can get everyone to Hilltop. We need to get Carl there.”

“Carl, no,” his Dad answered.

“Daryl can get one of the cars,” Michonne protested.

“Carl won't make it,” his Dad said, the words sounding like they had to be forced out. “He can't leave here. I have to stay with him.”

“Rick,” Michonne protested.

“He can't-. I have to stay.”

After a moment, Michonne nodded and said “I'm gonna stay.”

Ignoring this, his Dad asked “Will you-will you take Judith? She needs to be there. If she-if anything happens-,“ he managed before his voice broke with a sob.

“I'll take her,” Carl heard Daryl’s voice say. “I'll get her there, keep her safe. I got this.”

Carl looked up to see them starting to pass the girl over, and said “I wanna say goodbye.” He started to sit up, Michonne having to help him. After he got as comfortable as he could, Carl looked up to see the one-year-old placed in front of him, looking at him curiously.

“You be good, okay,” Carl started. “For Michonne. For Dad. Sometimes kids gotta show their parents the way.”

Carl then picked up his hat from beside him, looking at it and thinking about his memories of it. How his Dad had worn it during all his years as a Sheriff’s Deputy. Remembering how he'd come home from work with it still on. How he'd place it on Carl's head often when he was younger while they hung out together. How after the boy got shot at Hershel’s farm, his Dad gave it to him to keep, and how he'd worn it almost the entire time since then, it making him feel safer.

“Since you're in the club now, you get to wear the hat.”

Letting out something between a laugh and a sob, Carl continued talking to his sister. “This was Dad’s before it was mine. Now it's yours.” He passed it over and looked back towards Judith, the toddler not quite understanding the situation but seeming to have picked up on the emotions everyone was feeling. “I don't know, it's just-just having it then, it always kept Dad with me. It made me feel as strong as him. It helped me. Maybe it'll help you too.”

Breathing heavily, Carl looked down and said “Before Mum died, she told me I was gonna beat this world.”

“You are gonna beat this world, I know you will. You are smart, and you are strong, and you are so brave. And I love you.”

“I didn't. But you will. I know you will.” After this, Judith started crying, prompting their Dad to hand her over to Daryl.

Before leaving with her, Daryl, the man that had been like an uncle/brother figure to him, looked at Carl proudly and said “These people, you saved ‘em all. That's all you man.” The two friends smiled at each other, then Daryl turned and walked away. Tara proceeded to give Carl one last fist bump, then turned and followed Daryl, most of the others following as well. Carl watched them leave, knowing it would be the last time he would ever see them.

Siddiq sat by him again and said “You were helping me honour my Mum.”

“Not just yours. Mine too,” Carl replied.

“You brought me here,” Siddiq continued, “you gave me a chance. I know I can never repay you, but I can honour you, by showing your people, your friends, your family, that what you did wasn't for nothing, that it mattered, that it meant something.” He looked up at Carl’s Dad and Michonne, then back at Carl. “Because it did. So that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna honour you, Carl.”

Carl smiled at the man, then clasped hands with him. “Congratulations, you're stuck with us.” Siddiq let out a laugh, nodded to him, then rose to his feet and walked away, leaving the boy alone with his father and Michonne.

After this, Carl started to become delirious, losing track how much time was passing. His Dad and Michonne remained constantly by him; holding him, giving him water, and mopping up what they could of the pools of sweat on his face and neck.

After some time, Carl looked up at Michonne, thinking about all his memories of her. The woman who, back when she hadn't met them yet and while still in her dark and isolated state of mind, came to their group at the prison to tell them about Glenn and Maggie being taken by Merle, and bringing back the baby formula they'd been trying to get. The woman who, while still distrusted and considered an outsider, risked her life to bring him the picture of his family from before the apocalypse that he'd wanted to give to Judith. The woman who brought him comics from supply runs while he was at the prison. The woman who killed the Governor to save his father. The woman who comforted him when they'd thought Judith had perished. The woman who trusted him enough to let him be the first to find out about her late son. The woman who comforted him after the attempted assault by the men on the road. The woman who helped keep his father sane while they were on the road, and also helped keep him sane. The woman who kept things from escalating when his Dad snapped and ranted at the naive Alexandrians. The woman who helped him recover and relearn his skills after he lost his eye. The woman who had made a mutual promise with him that, should one of them reanimate, the other would put them down. The woman who had become his closest friend, and also a mother figure to him and Judith.

“You okay?” she asked concerned.

“I don't want you to be sad after this,” Carl told her.

“Carl-,“ she started.

“Or angry,” he continued, not wanting her to go back to the way she was after her son Andre had died. “You're gonna have to be strong, for my Dad, for Judith, for yourself.”

She looked towards his Dad, then back to him, nodded and promised “I will.”

“Don't carry this, not this part,” Carl told her. He then smiled sadly and said “You're my best friend, Michonne.”

Michonne sobbed, then smiled and said “You're mine too. You're mine.”

“Would you help?” his Dad asked Michonne after a moment.

“With what?”

“Getting him out of here.”

The two adults then lifted Carl to his feet, held his arms over their shoulders to support him, and half carried him, half dragged him out of the sewers and through the burning town towards the church, one of the few buildings not currently burning.

They brought Carl inside and laid him down on the raised platform. Carl looked up at his father, thinking about his memories of him. The walks he'd taken with him when he was three years old. The typical family life they and his Mum had had. The Friday-night pizzas they'd had. His Dad getting shot, and believed to be dead while the outbreak started. How he had returned to them with the supply runners in Atlanta. How he'd done everything he could to save Carl after he was shot at the farm, and had given him the hat after. Him teaching Carl how to use the gun, along with other survival techniques. His Dad consoling him after accidentally causing Dale’s death, and telling him to take back his gun. Them putting Shane down, then fighting the walkers on the farm together. Them working together to survive on the road and then to clear out the prison and make it their home. His father helping Carl regain his humanity after shooting the boy from Woodbury. Them farming together at the prison. Carl looking after his unconscious father while they were alone together after the prison’s destruction, and being called a man by him. His father teaching Carl how to set up traps for hunting. His father ripping a man’s throat out with his teeth to save him. His Dad telling him to always be on his guard. Them sharing their concerns about Gabriel's trustworthiness, and later about the Alexandrians’ ability to survive. His father helping him recover after the loss of his eye. Them fighting together in the battle against the Saviors and Scavengers in Alexandria. And them debating about how much mercy they could afford to show towards the Saviors.

“Thanks for-for getting me here,” Carl said to him gratefully.

“I'm-I’m sorry, I just-I didn't-I didn’t want you out there-,“ his Dad started.

“No,” Carl corrected, “no, for getting me here. For-for making it so I could be who I wound up.” After a moment, he continued. “Back at the prison, when we got attacked, there was a kid, little older than me. He had a gun. He was-he was starting to put it down, and I-I sh-I-I shot him. He was-he was giving it up, and I-I just shot him. I think about him, what I did to him, and how-how easy it was to just kill him.”

“Carl, no, no,” his Dad said, trying to take away his guilt. “What happened, what you've lost, all those things you had to do, all those things you had to do-you were-you were-you were just-you were just a boy.”

“And you saw it,” Carl responded, “what it did, how-how easy it got. That's why you changed. You brought those people from Woodbury in. You brought them in and we all lived together. We were enemies. You put away your gun, you did it, so I could change, so I could be who I am now. What you did then, how you were, how you stopped fighting, it was right. It still is. It can be like that again. You can still be like that again.”

After a moment, his Dad shook his head and said “I can't be who I was. It's different now-.“

“You can't kill all of them, Dad,” Carl interrupted. “There's gotta be something after, for you, and for them. There's gotta be something after.

“I know you-you can't see it yet,” Carl continued, referencing his dream for a better future that could be built, “how it could be, but I have. You had a beard, it was bigger, and greyer. Michonne's happy. Judith is older, she was listening to the songs that I used to before. Alexandria is bigger, there's-there’s new houses, crops. People working. Everybody living, helping everybody else. You can still be who you were. That's how it could be. It could.”

“Carl, it was all for you,” his Dad insisted. “Right from the start, back in Atlanta, the farm, everything I did was for you. And at the prison, that was you and Judith. It still is, its gonna be, and nothing, nothing is gonna change that.”

“I want this for you, Dad,” Carl replied.

His Dad leaned closer, and said “I'll make it real, Carl I promise. I'll make it real.” Carl smiled to this, relieved and hopeful.

“Carl, I'm-I’m sorry,” his Dad apologised a few minutes later. “I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. A father's job is to protect his son.”

“No,” Carl disagreed, wanting to absolve his guilt. “It's just to love.”

Knowing that at this point, he had a very short time left, he started to reach for his gun, wanting to end it before he could reanimate.

“No, no-,“ his Dad started protesting once he saw what he was doing.

“Carl, it-it-it-it should be-,“ Michonne said.

“I know, I know,” Carl interrupted, “it's somebody you love, if you can't do it yourself. I still can. I grew up. I have to do this, me.” Neither of the adults could respond, instead they just continued crying. Carl looked at Michonne and said “I love you.”

Sobbing, Michonne said “I love you too.”

Turning his head to his father, while crying himself, Carl said “I love you, Dad.”

Struggling to get the words out, his Dad replied “I love you, Carl. I love you so much.” Sobbing, he leaned down to kiss Carl’s forehead. Looking at him again, he repeated “I’ll make it real, I promise.”

After a moment, Carl said “I don't want you two to see this.” Nodding, his Dad and Michonne slowly rose to their feet, looked at him one last time while saying their final goodbyes, and then made their way to wait outside the church doors, through which he could see that the sun had risen by now.

Now that he was alone, Carl let the sadness he was feeling show on his face, thinking about how much he didn't want to die yet. He still wanted to live long enough to see everyone creating the new world. He wanted to see his baby sister grow up. He still wanted to spend more time with his friends and family who were still alive. His Dad, Michonne, Judith, Carol, Daryl, Enid, Maggie, Gabriel, and many others.

He knew this was impossible though, so he reluctantly forced himself to accept it, reminding himself that he'd given his life while saving someone, and that he wouldn't change that. He then tried to make himself feel better about this by thinking about how there were so many others he'd lost over the two years since the outbreak started, with whom he would soon be reunited.

Sophia.

Amy and Andrea.

Glenn.

T-Dog.

Dale.

Hershel.

Beth.

Tyreese and Sasha.

Patrick.

Bob.

Abraham.

Noah.

Denise.

Mum.

Feeling comforted by this, he finally decided he was ready, and took out his gun. As he moved it towards his head, various memories started flashing before his eye.

His mother telling him after school that his father had been shot and was in a coma.

The outbreak starting, Shane taking him and his mother to Atlanta.

His father returning.

Getting shot while looking at the deer.

Discovering his mother was pregnant.

Accidentally freeing the walker that would kill Dale.

Shooting an undead Shane to save his father.

His father telling the group they weren't a democracy anymore.

Bringing supplies to help with Hershel’s amputated leg.

Shooting his deceased mother to prevent her reanimation.

Naming his newborn sister.

Michonne bringing him the picture of his family.

Shooting the boy from Woodbury.

Farming with his father at the prison.

Shooting down the herd of walkers that broke through the fence alongside his father.

The Governor decapitating Hershel.

The prison burning.

Yelling at his unconscious father to wake up.

His father biting Joe’s throat out.

Being threatened by Gareth.

Showing Gabriel how to use a knife.

Daryl carrying Beth’s body out of the hospital.

Stopping the walkers from breaking into the barn during the storm.

Arriving at Alexandria.

Running with Enid through the woods.

The Wolves attacking the community.

Ron shooting his eye.

Leading the undead Deanna to Spencer.

Negan beating Glenn and Abraham to death.

Kissing Enid.

Attacking Negan at the Sanctuary.

Fighting the Saviors and Scavengers in Alexandria.

Meeting Siddiq.

Getting bit by the walker.

Distracting Negan.

Saying goodbye to his father and Michonne.

Coming back to himself, Carl finally positioned his gun against his head.

‘Goodnight, love.’

He pulled the trigger, and knew no more.

Chapter Text

The weary survivor trudged slowly along the road, gazing into the constant emptiness before them. Nothing on the road before them but debris, ruined and abandoned vehicles, and numerous corpses in various stages of decomposition. On either side of the road were trees, overgrown bush, and occasional houses, each one visibly falling apart as nature reclaimed them.

The survivor glanced to their side, seeing their last remaining companion trudging along just behind. Their face and clothes were covered in dust, grime, and dried blood. ‘Where did that blood come from,’ the survivor wondered, ‘themselves, former allies, former enemies, the dead? All of them?’ The survivor wondered if they themselves were as filthy as their companion.

A familiar snarl was heard from their right, and the survivor turned to see two of the dead stumble out of the woods, pale eyes staring hungrily towards them. The survivor sighed, then wearily unsheathed their machete, walked over and split the nearest monster’s head in two. They then looked around to see their companion stabbing their sharpened stick of wood through the other walker’s eye socket. The survivors pulled their weapons free, letting the corpses fall, and continued down the path they'd been on for days, hoping they'd find something they could use before it was too late.

It had been days since they'd last eaten, and even before that it had been rare for them to find enough food to sustain them. Their water wouldn't last much longer, even with the way they had been rationing it. They still carried a couple of handguns in case they could ever be used, but it had been a long time since they'd seen any ammunition. Sleep had been difficult for weeks now, as they couldn't find a place safe enough for them to properly sleep in. Not that anywhere was safe these days. No matter how safe a house or other building seemed to be, they knew from far too many horrible experiences that they were always in danger of been snuck up on by the dead. Or worse, by the living. The living were the true threat. No matter if they were acting out of survival, or insanity, or sadism, they were all dangerous.

The survivor could barely remember anymore the time before things went bad, back when people were everywhere and they could walk amongst each other without fear of being attacked. Now, encounters with the living were occurring less and less often, and they rarely ended well. The survivor had lost count of how many people they had killed, and could barely tell or even care anymore when a kill was justified or not.

The survivor had once had hope that things would get better somehow. That the world could be rebuilt once more. But over the years that hope had withered away until there was nothing left to keep them going except for survival instinct pushing them to stay alive. Occasionally they had come across actual communities, containing dozens of residents, making an effort to rebuild their idea of a civilisation. These communities had once made them think they could finally live a safe and peaceful life, but experience taught them that these oases almost always had a cost, a hidden agenda, one that made living in them even more dangerous than remaining on the treacherous road. And even when the communities were genuine, they were still vulnerable despite appearances, and sooner or later they always fell, putting whoever escaped back onto the road once more.

Even when things did seem to be safe, they could never truly be at peace, as they were constantly haunted. Haunted by their fear, which kept them from ever relaxing or truly living. Haunted by their trauma, resulting in nightmares, flashbacks, episodes of panic, irrationality or violence. And haunted by the dead. Forever followed by the ghosts, the memories, the screams. The screams of the countless they witnessed succumb to all manners of horrific deaths. Whether they were devoured by the dead, or slaughtered by people who had become even worse monsters. Whether the survivor had tried and failed to save them, or abandoned them to die, or actively killed them personally.

So many ghosts, of friends and foes alike, especially friends. The survivor had long ago lost track of how many friends and family they had lost over the years. Whether they knew them before the apocalypse, or had joined with them in the time since, inevitably they would all be gone sooner or later. And with no signs of the world getting any better, the survivor often wondered if there was any point in continuing on, since they were not really living anymore. But the primal instinct to keep existing had become too deeply ingrained into them. So they kept fighting to stay alive, despite having nothing left to live for in this emptying, ruined world. This wasteland. Making them indistinguishable from the ghosts.

They were ghosts in a wasteland.

They were the walking dead.