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“Don’t let me come back…”

Summary:

Susie Lavoie is losing control of the trial. The survivors are pushing too far, too fast, and she can’t keep up.

When she finally corners Rick Grimes, she mories him. But when his body twitches back to life, Susie realizes she hasn’t finished the job

and what rises is nothing the Entity intended.

Since survivors can be moried and their bodies left on the trial grounds… what if the Walking Dead survivors were still infected by the virus from their world?

Inspired by Rick’s second hook line: “Burn my body... Don’t let me come back…”

Work Text:

Floodlights glared faintly in the distance, harsh beams cutting through the Fog. Proof another generator was done, proof the survivors were winning ground.

Susie’s breath misted the inside of her mask, hot and shallow, her hands clenched around the taped hilt of the sharpened ruler. Her pulse thundered.

She hated when things got this far, when the survivors pushed deeper, when she felt like she was losing control. The Fog had given her strength, had turned her from a timid girl into something sharper, faster, deadlier. But the longer the trial dragged on, the more she felt that tremor inside. The one that whispered she wasn’t enough.

She found him then, cornered against a crumbling wall. Rick Grimes.

His shirt was dark with blood, one hand pressed to his ribs, his chest rising and falling in strained pulls. Even so, his eyes stayed steady.

“You think I’m just gonna roll over? Make it easy?” His voice was gravel, cracked but unshaken.

Susie froze. Most survivors begged or cursed. He didn’t. He stood like someone who’d already buried too much to ever back down again.

Then he came at her.

The strike to her shoulder nearly knocked her off balance. His boot slammed into her shin, hard enough to make her stagger.

He fought like someone who’d been fighting his whole life, fists tight, body unbroken by fear. For one terrifying moment she thought he might actually win.

Her chest seized. Without the Fog’s gift, he would’ve had her on the ground. She knew it.

But she wasn’t just Susie anymore. The Entity had filled her with power, turned her into something more than a trembling eighteen-year-old. She shoved him back, ruler flashing, cutting through the air.

Rick snarled and caught her wrist, shoving hard. For a moment, Susie felt the ruler slipping. Then she realized with a jolt of panic that he wasn’t just trying to push it away.

He was trying to take it.

His grip tightened, teeth bared, his arm straining to twist it from her hand. For one breathless second she thought he might rip it free and turn it on her.

Her heart pounded as she fought back, the Fog’s strength flooding her limbs.

She stabbed. Once. Twice. Three times.

He grunted but still shoved, still twisting, still trying to wrench the weapon away for himself.

It took four, five, six plunges before his body finally buckled under her unnatural strength.

His eyes softened as his voice broke into a whisper meant for no one but himself:

“Carl… I tried…”

Then his body sagged against the wall and stilled.
Susie staggered back, yanking the weapon free, her hands trembling from more than exertion.

She turned, scanning the distance. Floodlights still burned through the Fog, more of them now.

The other survivors were working, pushing closer. Too close.
Her chest twisted in frustration. Frank would’ve been faster. Julie wouldn’t have let them get this far. Joey would’ve been loud enough to rattle them all.

She was just slow. Just Susie.

She forced herself back into the trial.

When the chase looped her back, her stomach turned cold.
Rick’s hand twitched.

She stopped dead, breath catching in her throat. If she hadn’t finished him—if she’d failed—the Entity would be furious.

Panic clawed at her chest. She stumbled closer, ruler raised in shaking hands.

“No… I have to finish it. I have to.”

His chest lurched, and a wet, rasping groan spilled out. His cloudy eyes snapped open.

Then he rose.

The sound that came out of him wasn’t human. His body jerked stiffly, his mouth sagging open, air rasping ragged through ruined lungs. Each step dragged, heavy and hungry.

Susie’s mask dampened with sweat. “What…?”

He staggered forward.

She stabbed. Once. Twice. Again and again, ruler plunging into his ribs, his gut, his chest.

Strength surged in her arms, but nothing worked. He didn’t scream. He didn’t bleed right. He didn’t fall.

“What are you?!” Her voice cracked.

Then he slammed her to the ground.

The breath tore out of her lungs as her back hit the dirt. His weight pressed her down, crushing her ribs, pinning her like a doll.

And then his teeth tore into her shoulder.

The pain was immediate, overwhelming. White-hot fire spread through her nerves, and her scream ripped out high and raw, muffled by the mask.

It was no longer the facade she put on to make her seem as tough as her friends.

It was Susie Lavoie, eighteen years old, begging in agony.

“Stop! Please!” she sobbed, thrashing wildly. She stabbed over and over, her ruler sinking deep into his chest and stomach, but it did nothing.

His jaw clamped tighter, tearing muscle and skin. Warm blood sprayed across her hoodie.

Her arms shook so hard she could barely hold the weapon. Her legs kicked frantically, sneakers scraping against stone.

She screamed again, her voice thin and breaking.

Another bite ripped into her, deeper, tearing her open. She arched against the ground, sobbing, the mask suffocating her cries.

Her body convulsed with the pain, every nerve lit up in fire. She didn’t feel like the killer the Fog had made her. Not anymore. She just felt eighteen. Small. Breakable.

“Help me!” she screamed, her voice cracking into shrill panic. “It hurts! It hurts!”

The walker bent lower, his wet, rattling breaths scraping against her ear as he continued his feast.

Her vision blurred with tears. Her voice collapsed into a final, desperate cry.

“Julie!” she wailed, voice breaking. “Julie, help me!”

No answer. Just teeth, tearing. Just pain, devouring.

And only then did the Fog scream.

It surged in like a storm, howling, swallowing everything.

Floodlights blinked out as the remaining survivors vanished mid-stride.

Rick’s walker body dissolved into black smoke, and Susie’s torn, broken form followed.

The Trial collapsed.

The fire crackled. Survivors sat where they always had, whole again.

Rick Grimes opened his eyes to the glow of the Campfire. Alive. Human once more.

His hand drifted to his chest, rubbing at an ache he couldn’t explain. He stared into the flames too long, his jaw set, as though searching for something he’d lost.

Far away, snow fell over Ormond. In a boarded-up lodge, Susie Lavoie pulled in a sharp, ragged breath.
Her shoulder was unscarred. Her hoodie was clean. But her hands shook, and her chest heaved as though the teeth were still there.

The cycle reset.

But both of them remembered enough.