[ vi. not alone ]

october 10th, 2010

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CARL GRIMES HAD SUFFERED a relapse.

It was one of the most terrifying things for Greyson Hunt to have ever experienced, watching as one moment the young boy was awake and strong, ready to fight for his life, and in the next he was weak and unconscious, resting on Death's doorstep once more. In those few, brief moments when he had been caught between the light and the dark of life, all that Carl had wanted was to tell his mother about the deer in the woods, and instead he was greeted with a traumatic seizure. His little body had shaken so tremendously with pain and all that any of them could do was watch as he went through the motions.

It made Greyson sick.

It reminded him of little Lucy; the way that Lori had held her son's hand when he was there one minute, and then was forced to let go when he no longer wasn't. Lori's sobs had ripped through Greyson's ears and he had cringed painfully at the sound. He knew what she was going through, he knew the agony of helplessness, but no one should ever have been forced to go through such horror in their life.

That small episode was how Greyson found himself outside the farmhouse later that night, sitting on the banister that surrounded the porch. The cold air nipped at his bare and bloodied arms but he kept his narrowed focus on the fields. Greyson could hardly see anything beyond the porch's front, yellowish light and he tried to not let his cruel and sinister imagination get the better of him.

Greyson was not alone in his silence, of course.  Glenn Rhee was sitting on the porch swing behind him as well, currently pouring over a fresh, hot meal and it made Greyson's own stomach rumble again. Even after eating his own meal less than an hour prior, he was still convinced that he was going to starve. All he wanted to do was eat and eat until his growling stomach was content.

Several long moments passed before Greyson opted to look over his shoulder towards his best friend.  "Where are the others?" He wondered, breaking the cool and calm quietness of the porch.

Glenn swallowed another mouthful of steaming food. "Back at the highway," He answered. "They chose to stay with the RV in case Sophia finds her way back."

"Did you not find anything along the creek bed?" Greyson wondered.

"Nothing," He confirmed. "It's like we're hunting a ghost."

Greyson let out a small breath that he had not realized he was holding and clenched his icy blue eyes shut. He did not want to think of what little Sophia Peletier was doing out there beyond the shadows of the woods. He did not want to imagine her huddled beneath a tree, cold, alone and hungry. No child deserved that.

"Are you praying?"

Greyson's tired eyes hastily shot open at the familiar and intruding voice that he had already heard over a bazillion times that day. He swore that he could now recognize that voice from anywhere at that point. He knew that soft and strong southern drawl like the back of my his bruised hand already.

Greyson soon glanced over to see Maggie Greene standing only a few feet away from him, leaning up against the farmhouse wall behind them both. She had a faint smile on her lips, her green eyes watching Greyson's own so intently.

"No," Greyson deadpanned.

"Are you religious?" She prodded.

Greyson scoffed at the pathetic question and shook his head firmly. "No," He repeated.

"How come?"

Greyson's gaze narrowed uncomfortably.  The blonde was not exactly sure why, but Maggie's invasion of his own beliefs was making him irritable and annoyed. He knew it was not an intentional reaction, but with tensions so high right now, the drop of a fork could probably make Greyson lose his head. He had always had problems with his temper, even from a young age. Growing up, he had ended up in principal offices more times than he could count. Half of the time in found himself in that damned room, he was just trying to defend someone else. But that was only half the time.  Greyson, unfortunately, could not exactly justify the other times he had found himself suspended from school.

Realizing Maggie was still awaiting an answer, Greyson's eyes quickly snapped in her direction. "Because last time I asked God for help my little sister died," He said coldly. "I figure if he wasn't listening then, I'm sure as hell he isn't listening now."

Maggie's small face fell slightly at his blunt response and her hands immediately went down to her sides in embarrassment. Clearly, she had not expected such a thing to come out of a stranger's mouth so quickly upon meeting him, and Greyson found himself recoiling, too.  All that he could see in her light green eyes was a deepening weight of sadness.  "I'm sorry," The eldest Greene daughter whispered.

Greyson rolled his eyes and quickly swung his legs back over the railing as he stood upright on the porch. "Sorry doesn't mean shit these days," He grumbled tiredly, all the while moving past Glenn and the brunette as he hurriedly made his way into the house and away from furhter invasive stares and intruding questions.

Greyson could hear Glenn calling his name but the former refused to acknowledge his friend. As Greyson let the screen door close with loud finality, Greyson lingered long enough beyond the doorway to hear Glenn abruptly turn his attention to Maggie. He could not tell what they were saying to one another, but he was not sticking around to find out.

Greyson immediately knew that it had been wrong to take his anger out on Maggie but he could not keep it bottled up inside anymore. He could not control it.  He could barely think straight with all that was happening around him, all of the people hurt and dying around him, and whenever Lucy was brought up, it just made everything a hundred times worse. Greyson supposed that it was simply easier to take your own pain out on a stranger than it was to take it out on family.

Making his way slowly into the kitchen, Greyson's attention went towards T-Dog who now sat alone at the dining room table, his eyes half-closed as the drugs took over. His arm was stitched up, thankfully, but he would be gone for the rest of the night given how many painkillers Patricia put him on.

"Bring the table in here! Hurry!"

Greyson abruptly whipped his blonde head up at the sound of Hershel's booming voice coming from the back bedroom and he automatically moved towards it. Stopping in the doorway, Greyson's gaze widened on the sight of Hershel, Rick, and Lori all moving tiny Carl onto a small, metal operating table of sorts.

"What the hell are you doing?" Greyson demanded loudly, his blazing eyes darting to Rick's. "Shane and Otis aren't back yet!"

"There's no more time, son," Hershel informed grimly. "We had to make a choice."

"This'll kill him!" Greyson exclaimed. "You have to wait!"

Hershel ignored the young man's cries and hurriedly reached down to grab a scalpel as he hovered over Carl's bloody abdomen. "Rick, Lori, Grey," He soon addressed to the many watchful and tensed figures around him. "You may want to step out."

Rick Grimes was the first to move, and already had one arm around Lori's waist when he reached out with his other to secure it around Greyson's shoulders, trying to make him move, but the latter's feet were frozen to the floor. Would this be the last time that Greyson saw Carl alive? He could not accept that. Not another twelve-year-old, innocent child. Not another Lucy.

Greyson Hunt shook his head frantically and defiantly. "Don't," He begged.  No one had seemed to hear him in those following moments, and his pleading request for life was left in the void of silence. Then, out of nowhere, the quiet of the makeshift bedroom-turned-operating room was harshly shattered by the roaring engine of an approaching truck flying down the dirt driveway. Greyson's feet immediately began to move again at the newfound sound and he quickly pulled back the curtain of the nearby window.  His tensed and trembling body filled with relief at the sight of the blue pickup truck pulling into the yard.  "They're back!" He announced.

Everyone quickly scrambled from the room, leaving Patricia behind to tend on Carl and ensure that he was ready for surgery while the rest went to gather the supplies. A flurry of voices filled Greyson's spiraling head, but he did not focus on a single one.  Making his way down the creaking porch steps, Greyson faltered slightly in the darkness of the night when all he could see was Shane climbing from the vehicle, alone.

"Where's Otis?"

Shane Walsh swallowed weakly, his bloodied face paling over at the mention of the man. The former deputy silently shook his head, giving the many watchful individuals the answer that they needed.  Greyson swallowed stiffly at the realization that Otis truly was was gone, dead when all he had ever wanted to do with clear his name and save a young boy's life.

Hershel Greene's hands clenched into fists at his sides and he looked carefully to every solemn face around him.  He seemed to be at a loss for words, but such silence was not an option right now. "W-We say nothing to Patricia," He finally ordered.  His voice was stern and shaky, all at once. "Not until this is over. I need her now."

And without another word, the old man quickly turned on his heel and disappeared back into the quiet farmhouse with the supplies that Shane had bravely collected.  The supplies that Otis had spilt his own blood for.

Meanwhile, Greyson and several other occupants of the farmhouse remained on the cold and dark lawn, watching as Shane reeled violently and tragically over the recent events of the evening. "They . . . They just kept blockin' us at every turn. We had nothing left. Down to ten rounds," He murmured tightly, a traumatized look in his glassy eyes. "He said . . . He said he'd cover me and that I should keep going, so that's what I did. I kept going. But then I looked back and he . . ." Shane broke off, shaking his head. "I tried, man."

Greyson heard a quiet sob from over his shoulder and he frowned at the sound, unfamiliar with such a cry of agony. Turning around, Greyson's own paled face fell further at the sight of Maggie Greene wrapped tightly in Lori's arms as she cried into the older woman's chest. His heart plummeted at the painful sight, but before he could do anything at all in an attempt to approach them, Maggie then broke away from Lori and sprinted back into the large farmhousehouse, holding a hand to her mouth to prevent another sob from spilling out. Greyson silently watched her go, and he did not even know that he was moving after her until he abruptly stopped beside Rick Grimes.

Greyson Hunt looked up to his leader, unable to stop the bitter and trembling words from slipping out between his chapped lips. "I should've gone with them," He told Rick. "Maybe then Otis would still be alive."  Rick stared back at Greyson's in a frozen disbelief, but the latter refused to meet his gaze again. Instead the young man continued to walk into the house without another look back, merely clasping Glenn on the forearm as he hurriedly went past. Glenn softly returned the gesture, squeezing Greyson's arm warmly and tightly as he disappeared into the house. 

Greyson's tired feet immediately brought him towards the quiet sobs as they sounded from deep within the empty kitchen.  As Greyson stepped cautiously into the room, his attention went down towards the lonely farm girl.  Maggie was seated at the kitchen table, perched on the edge of her chair, and her face in her hands as she cried hard and loud.  Greyson's stomach churned painfully, struggling to keep himself from turning away once more. Seeing anyone cry was hard to watch. What was even harder to do was looking away.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Maggie," Greyson murmured gently, looking down at her from the wide kitchen doorway.

Maggie jumped softly in her seat at Greyson's voice, and her shaking hands quickly dropped from her face. She harshly looked up at Greyson from across the room, her cheeks puffy and red from her tears. Her eyes narrowed coldly. "Sorry doesn't mean shit these days," She snapped, throwing his own words back at him.

As if Greyson thought he could not have felt any worse, he was proven wrong once again. Greyson's stomach tightened into thick knots as the guilt spread through his timid body. There was nothing he could say to that. So, instead of making things worse like he most definitely would have, he simply crossed his bloodied arms over his narrow chest and decided to simply be with her.

Maggie exhaled a long and deep breath. "I-I've known Otis since I was a kid," She whimpered, now talking to Greyson as if she had not just snarled at him a mere second before. "He's run this farm since before my mother died."

Greyson pursed his lips, allowing his eyes to fall atop the refrigerator he was currently leaning against. The surface was covered in pictures, and notes, and magnets, and everything else that made an empty kitchen feel homier. His gaze soon landed on a small and wrinkled picture of Maggie and Beth, arms wrapped around each other with fishing poles in their hands. There were other people in the picture as well, he just did not know who they were.

"Who else?" He questioned softly. "Who'd you lose?"

Wiping back tears and swallowing another sob, Maggie rose to her feet and crossed over to Greyson's side. They were standing so close now that his shoulder was brushing against hers, connected by a nearly invisible touch. Slowly, weakly, Maggie rose a small hand up to the fridge, and pointed at an adjacent picture of a young woman sitting on the same porch swing that Glenn had been sitting on earlier in the night.

"Stepmother," Maggie informed tightly. Her finger shifted again, pointing at a boy, probably around Greyson's age. "Step brother." She moved onto another picture, sobs racking her body so profoundly that she could not even speak.

Maggie's hand was resting against the picture of another young and beautiful woman that Greyson could only assume was her mother, long-since deceased.  The pain was still so fresh.  It always would be.  The agony of loss never went away. Greyson knew that more than anyone. Ever so softly, he rose his own calloused hand up and pulled her own away from the photograph. Even as she returned from the painful memories from another lifetime Maggie's gaze still remained locked on the fridge as Greyson held her hand in his own. "You don't have to," He reminded her. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Maggie simply shook her head, averting her eyes to his. "Who did you lose?" She wondered, her lips pressed together in a firm line.

Greyson swallowed stiffly, but reached into his back pocket for his wallet, nonetheless. He was not sure why he still actually carried the damn thing, but maybe it was just out of habit. Just like he used to carry his cell phone around even after he knew that it did not work. Hell, Greyson would probably still be carrying his phone if he had not accidentally left it back at the CDC, still attached to a futile charger.

Opening his wallet, Greyson scoffed at the sight of the few dollar bills still trapped within it. It was not like they were paying for much anymore. Flipping through the wallet, Greyson soon landed on the picture he had been looking for and softly held it out to the brunette beside him. She took the wallet with feeble hands.

It was a single picture, taken the day of Greyson's middle school graduation. It was one of the last pictures the Hunt's had taken as a family before it was broken forever. Greyson had only been fourteen at the time, Lucy only ten, and Jessie only twenty-four.

"Little sister," Greyson explained as he pointed at a beaming and small Lucy. "Mom and Dad." He pointed at his parents, happy with arms wrapped tightly around each other. "Older sister." He pointed at Jessie, the ghost of a shy smile on her features. "Brother-in-law." He pointed at Jessie's boyfriend, soon-to-be husband, Pete. Then Greyson pointed down to the little three year old in Jessie's arms, so eager to escape her hold. "Nephew." Greyson swallowed stiffly. "They had another son a few years later. Probably lost him, too."

Maggie stared down at the picture, her tears silently making their way down her face as she passed it back. Greyson hurriedly stuffed the wallet back into his pocket, his own throat tightening with emotion he had held at bay for so long. "At least you're not alone," He told her honestly.  At least she still had her father, and her sister, and Patricia.

"Neither are you," Maggie reminded Greyson, staring steadfast up at him. "You're not alone, Grey."

Looking down at her, Greyson had not realized how much taller he actually was than Maggie until he was standing right beside her. The top of her head was at his shoulder. If he pulled her closer, his chin would rest easily atop her head. Seeing the tears, the pain in her face, and the tremble of her shoulders, Greyson knew that his wandering mind had already been made up. He quickly pulled Maggie Greene close, his arms wrapping warmly around her shoulders as he pulled her firmly to his chest.

Instead of recoiling away like Greyson silently expected, Maggie simply burrowed her head deeper into his torso as his own arms tightened around her. Neither of them said a word, but they did not have to. That was simply the thing about physical contact these days. It reminded someone that they really were not alone—that they still had someone who cared about them and that they still had someone to care about themselves.

Suddenly, Greyson Hunt abruptly heard the quiet clearing of someone's throat and he immediately broke apart from Maggie, his own eyes landing on her father who stood in the doorway beyond them. Hershel Greene looked carefully between the pair with an expression Greyson could not properly make out written across his features.

Maggie was the first to recover, stepping away from Greyson as she wiped her hands on her jeans. "How is he?" She asked softly.

Hershel sighed, allowing the distraction to subside for now as a gentle and relived smile pulled on his lips. "He'll pull through," He informed. "Carl's going to be okay."

Relief spread through Greyson's body like a tidal wave and he leaned forward on his bruised knees, taking a deep and well-needed breath. Hershel soon left the room after that, but not before sending Greyson another strict look, and then went in search of Lori and Rick to reveal the joyful news. Meanwhile, Maggie and Greyson remained in the kitchen, the awkward silence spreading over them as they had both obviously noticed Hershel's watchful gaze before he disappeared. Then, without another word of farewell, Maggie wiped a lingering tear away from her own face and slipped from the room and vanished upstairs, all the while Greyson was left to watch her go.

It had been a strange feeling for Greyson Hunt to experience such an embrace that evening, holding a shattered Maggie Greene so close to his own broken body. He had just met her today.  She was a total stranger to him, but for some reason, he was beginning to feel as if he had known her a whole lot longer. Trust was hard to come by these days, Greyson knew that, but in the back of his stubborn mind, he wanted to see if Maggie's trust could be worth the risk.  At the rate this group was going, it was likely they would not be going anywhere any time fast.  There was no saying what Greyson's future held, but he wanted to see if Maggie would stay to be a part of it.  Greyson wanted to trust her. She was different than anyone else he had met since the beginning of the end.

Maggie made Greyson feel different.

And that thought alone both terrified and excited him.

~~~~~~~~

edited.