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M E G A N

Carl and I never got to finish our conversation, upon having other things to worry about.

Just like what always happens.

One subject of worry, soon gets overpowered by another. And then another. And then another. And then it becomes a battle of urgency to decide which of our problems is of the most life-threatening to the people of Alexandria.

And the leading issue, at the time, happened to be Father Gabriel's whereabouts.

With a rare gust of luck, the missing man lead our people to more people. A lot of them. This new group that's actually willing to be on our side, and join us in the war.

And although we've been granted the luxury of being teamed alongside a few other communities, we still don't have enough guns.

As long as we're firing at the Saviors, there will never be enough guns.

"I should be doing that, you know?"

Rosita tosses the surgical scissors onto the table, turning her gaze from the magnifying mirror. "I'm done."

The tension of the war has been evident in nearly all of the woman's interactions, as expected.

Dealing with the losses of Abraham and Glenn has been hard on her, just like it has on the rest of us. Except, she once connected with the both of them in two different ways. Ways that I never got to experience.

And—although I hesitate to put myself in the woman's shoes—I'd probably act the same, bothered way if Carl were the one who never got to come back from that night.

"It's going to work out." Tara's words extend an olive branch that I can only hope whacks away at the thick tension in Rosita's air.

"Wh—What does that even mean, Tara?" The woman furrows her eyebrows.

The woman stands up from the seat next to me, ready to apologetically face Rosita's aggression. "It means we've got the numbers to fight now. We just need to find some guns and—"

"Do you know where we could find that many guns today?" Rosita motions with her loose hand. Although her body remains relaxed, the woman's mind tenses under Tara's attempt at comforting words. "This week? This year?"

Tara says nothing.

My nosy eyes flick between the apologetic woman and the other who holds a tight-knit scowl across her face.

"No. You don't." Rosita huffs. "I can't just wait. I don't know about you, but I can't."

This causes Tara to give the woman a much-needed talking to. The words leaving her mouth are exactly what Rosita needs to hear. Although, Tara never quite stoops down to the level of the bitter woman's despair.

Both of the women are in the right, though. And they both know it, too.

The pair standing before me is a perfect balance of one other, in the most caring manner. Both are not afraid to do things for the people they love, they just choose to go about it differently.

"Maybe you could just save all of this for them." Tara wraps up her concise lecture to a stubborn Rosita who continues to avoid eye contact with her.

Her words are true. Rosita has been taking all of her aggression—towards the Saviors—out on all of the people of Alexandria. Very few have managed to wriggle themselves away from the grip of the woman's tense attitude.

With nothing except a pained glare, Tara sighs and finally retreats down the infirmary steps.

Rosita and I sit in silence, while my hand fumbles around in the pocket of my flannel. Carl's flannel.

Once Tara is out of earshot, I place the small tube of ointment on the patio table. "Here. It'll help with your scar."

"Keep it." Rosita huffs. "We need guns. I'm going to go find them." Her lips tighten toward me.

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I'm going out." She starts. The woman stands from the seat, and heads towards the porch steps. "I need to find something before I head to Hilltop, tomorrow."

"Hilltop?"

Although the woman's motives are completely guided by an opportunity to take a shot at the Saviors, mine are not. And the woman's words, unintentionally, extend an opportunity for me to do my—very passive—part in this war.

"Yeah." The woman stops in her tracks. "Why?"

"You mind if I tag along?"

☆

It's been a long time since I've spent a night outside the walls.

It's also been a while since I'd voluntarily let myself wander off, surrendering the privilege of knowing whether or not Carl was safe. And it won't be long before tonight, when I lose that privilege again.

The only night I've spent away from Alexandria, since our arrival, was spent entirely on my knees, under the intimidation of that barbed-wire wrapped bat.

My hands fumble around with a small duffel. The same one I'd used to hide the medical supplies from the Saviors. Except now—after treating two beaten men and Rosita—there's almost nothing left for me to work with.

Which is one reason why I must go to Hilltop. One part being the much-needed medical supplies, and the other being Maggie Rhee.

While she plans to stay at Hilltop for the remainder of her pregnancy, things can happen.

Things similar to what happened to the plans Hershel made for when Lori were to give birth. Similar to what happened to Glenn and Abraham. And now, with the Saviors breathing down our necks, anything is possible.

And although I'm not sure about the war, I am sure about one thing. Not letting Maggie or her baby down. Again.

Just like I'd let them both down the night Glenn left us. Just like I'd let the entire Grimes family down, back at the start of the prison.

And I'm not going to let it happen again.

I'm going to be prepared this time.

"Not that I'm—in any way—okay with this," Carl starts. "But can you at least tell me why?"

The boy stands behind me, a comforting hand on the middle of my back, as he tilts his head into the corner of my vision.

My hands find themselves gripping the stiff edges of the duffel, before I drop my head forward, with a sigh. "I'm just—I'm tired of it."

Carl's other hand finds my back as well, and he traces the both of them around the front of my waist, slowly twisting me to face him.

"Of what?" He lifts my droopy head with a soft knuckle under my chin. The boy tilts his head closer to mine, the shadows of his hat concealing both of our faces.

I allow myself to sink into the gentle touch. "Of people getting hurt. Our people."

A sigh escapes my lips. "I'm not prepared to deal with it all." I tighten my lips. "Eugene, Aaron, Rosita. It's like they aren't my people anymore. They're just my patients. And I'm tired of having to think of them that way."

The boy allows his hands to snake around my back, and pull me close. And I let him. I don't hesitate to let him.

"You're a teenager." Carl mutters into my hair-covered shoulder. "You shouldn't be under so much pressure."

He runs a soothing hand up and down my back, using the inside of his elbow to keep me pressed tightly against him.

I nuzzle my head into his collar bone. "You're a teenager, too. You shouldn't have to see the things we've seen. Feel the pain we've felt. But there's no escaping it."

Carl says nothing. I feel his head gently shake back and forth, right next to my own.

Although this moment is everything I need, yesterday Rosita said she'd leave without me if I was even a few moments late to meet her this morning.

I crane my neck, leaning my lips toward Carl's ear. My voice lowers to a slight whisper. "I have to keep packing."

As I twist my body to move out of Carl's grip, something stops me.

Carl stops me. "Wait."

I lean away from him, causing him to pull his face out of my neck, and meet my gaze.

"What?"

The boy rubs his pink lips together. His head shakes, causing his silky brown hair to dangle back and forth over his shoulders. "Why don't we—just for like five minutes—act like normal teenagers?"

Not knowing what he means, I begin to shake my head. "Carl—"

"Just think of it as your send-off. Okay?" The boy's eyebrows raise. "Will you at least let me have that?"

I sigh. The most hesitant one I can muster. "I'm listening."

A shy smile grows on the boy's face, taking over his melancholic demeanor. "Why don't you let me take you out on a date?"

Although Carl and I have seen and explored every inch of each other, the thought of a real date with him sends nervous, giddy tingles shooting through my stomach.

"A date?"

"Yes." He chuckles. "A real one, too."

It's now that I feel the tops of my cheeks turning hot. The nervous heat evident in the rosiness that Carl stares down with his eager blue eye.

Out of embarrassment, my hands find the boy's wrists and slowly remove them from around my waist. I shake my head, hoping to somewhat cover my face with my hair. "I'll have to think about it."

"It would be a dream come true." The boy says from behind me. "My dream come true."

I continue fumbling around with the things I aim to pack in my duffel, that sits on my bed. "Oh, really?"

The boy plops down on the mattress, causing the duffel to bounce. "Totally."

"I'm still not convinced." I shrug.

Carl snickers under his breath.

"I was thinking," The boy takes the duffel from right beneath my anxious fingertips, and moves it to the side. "Dinner and a movie."

When I connect the dots, and begin to understand that this is all make-believe and that I won't actually get to go on a date with Carl, my hopes sink just a bit.

I mean, for half of a moment I'd allowed myself to think that soon—or at least one day—we'd be able to go on a real date. Just the two of us. But it won't ever be real.

A simple world like that won't ever be our reality.

But as I stare down at the hopeful blue eye of the person who makes me feel whole, I understand that he's not trying to make me remember what we can't have.

He's trying to make me forget it.

A small smile makes its way onto my lips, as I now realize that this is a moment of pure fantasy for the boy.

Carl scoots his way right in front of my body. He trails his hands down my forearms until they gently cover my palms with their warmth.

"We could order food. Anything we want." He cranes his neck to make his way into the line of my focused stare at our entwined hands. "Then I could drive you to a real movie theater. Remember those?"

I shake my head. "Not really."

"Just imagine it." The boy chuckles. "Close your eyes."

Without question, I take one last look into Carl's eye before allowing my own to flutter closed.

The bed creaks just a bit as the boy leans closer toward me. My hands still enclosed within his. "It'd be dark. We'd be surrounded by people we've never even seen before."

Everything Carl says comes to life behind my closed eyelids.

I see it all.

The fuzzy image of a large, dark room that's filled with a bunch of non-threatening strangers who've simply crossed paths once when coming together to see a film.

We wouldn't have to be scared of the darkness. The unfamiliar people. None of it.

The comforting image of his words is something I wish he, too, could feel in this moment. "And I'd get to—just hold you after a long day. A long day of h—"

"Having fun on the beach." I mutter, a small smile creeps onto my lips as I continue to grip onto Carl's strong hands.

He encourages me with slight squeeze of my hands. "Go on."

"We'd have frozen popsicles—the sugary kind." I chuckle, keeping my eyes closed to envision the sunny day in my mind. "They wouldn't be all melted and old."

Although I can't see Carl, I can practically hear the mischievous smile on his face. I feel the boy shrug within my grip. "I could go for a popsicle."

"Me too." I sigh, tightening my lips. "I miss them."

"No—no," Carl starts.

I begin to open my eyes. "Wh—"

"Keep them closed!" He laughs. "You don't miss popsicles. You just had them today. When we were on the beach. Remember?"

I allow a laugh at his dedication to keep up the charade. "Yeah. Right."

"Now where were we?" Carl starts, "Oh—right. After the beach, we went to dinner and a movie."

A chuckle makes its way to my surface. "Sounds like an eventful day."

"Very." The boy allows silence, just for a moment. "Now, do you want to know what would happen after the movie?"

Although it's very out of my stubborn character, I continue to enjoy the false indulgence in the make-believe words. "What would happen after the movie, Carl?"

A few moments of silence pass.

"Sex." Carl huffs. "A whole lot of sex."

I used to hate that word. Hell, I still do hate that word. But as I live in the land of false happiness, I find myself laughing at Carl's blunt vulgarity.

Plus—after a day like the one I'm envisioning—I wouldn't mind that at all. Not one bit.

My eyes flutter open. Carl stares up at me with an endearing look in his eye. "Oh, really?"

"Oh yeah." He quietly says. The wide smile never leaves his lips.

I grab the lip of his hat, and gently peel it back from his head. A few stray strands of his long, chestnut hair stick upward, from the friction.

After placing his hat atop the sheets, my arms find themselves lacing around his neck, before I lean into him, bringing my lips closer to his. "Well guess what?"

The boy says nothing as he musters a curious hum. Amidst the vibration of his response, I place a gentle kiss on his lips.

After a moment, we part lips. I slowly stand back from the boy, tracing my hands down his chest.

The boy's eye flutters open, watching my hands with every dirty intent as I slip the tips of my fingers up his shirt, and lace them into two of his belt loops.

By his jeans, I slowly pull the boy closer to the edge of the bed, lowering my lips next to his ear.

"Your five minutes are up."

☆

After mischievously leaving Carl to deal with his own little problem, I made my journey to Hilltop, alongside a stubborn Rosita. Nothing but a common enemy bonding the woman and I.

Her determination to get at the Saviors is something I do admire about her, although it slightly bothers me that her actions have already gotten someone killed. And if things go wrong for her at the sanctuary, we'll lose even more people.

Hell, if things go according to her plan, we'll end up losing her. Not that her own life has been of much importance to herself.

And that's a sacrifice that Rosita's willing to make for the good of the group. And I'm in no position to stop her. No one would be able to stop me had I been in her shoes.

"How've things been?" Enid starts. "Back at home?"

The girl and I walk along the quiet landscape of the hilltop, winding down from her discussion with Sasha. Turns out that the woman's been keeping Jesus's whereabouts a secret from Maggie.

Enid has given Sasha a ten-minute grace period, before she plans to tell Maggie the truth about all of the schemes going on behind her back. So, until then, the girl and I have a few more minutes to kill.

"Quiet. Too quiet." I sigh. "Unless the Saviors are there, harassing us."

"Is that why you came here?" Enid asks, watching our feet intently as they continue to walk along the same path we have been for the past few minutes. "To get away from it?"

"To prepare myself for it." I shake my head. "I came to ask Dr. Carson about working under him."

"That'd be neat." She shrugs. "He's been teaching me too."

My feet stop in their tracks. "Really?"

"Yeah?" The girl stops as well, just a moment after me.

I chuckle under my breath. "Wow, Enid."

"What?" Her eyebrows furrow.

After only missing the one beat, the two of us continue on with our slow, dragging footsteps.

I sigh. "I guess I've always pictured you as more of a weapon-training kind of girl."

"Oh I can handle a few weapons," The girl starts with a laugh. "But I figured that with all of this time on my hands, I'd try to see why you spend all of your time in the infirmary." Enid teases.

I suck in a breath through my smile. "I guess we'll need to make room for another doctor over at Alexandria, then."

"Won't be necessary." She shakes her head. "Because I'm coming for your spot."

My eyes flick up towards Daryl, as we slowly approach the table he sits on.

The man sharpens a knife, not daring to mutter a word to anyone here. It's only been a few days since he's escaped from the Sanctuary, and there's no telling what he went through in there.

I choose to ignore the gloom he casts over Hilltop, as the man always looks as if he wants to disappear. And for his own sanity, I've not let myself acknowledge his presence.

"Is that so?" I tease her back. "Well, I'll have you kn—"

The sudden ringing of the Hilltop's warning bells cuts through my words.

"The Saviors are coming!" The man on watch yells down to the rest of us, knowing that there are several Alexandrian fugitives behind these walls.

Enid and I stop in our tracks, turning to look at each other. "Shit,"

Enid grabs at my wrist, pulling me towards the table Daryl sits on. "We have to get Maggie."

"Where is she?" He mutters, swiftly climbing down from the table.

Enid turns on her heel. "Come on!"

The bells continue to ring, as the heavy clunking sound from the Saviors' trucks sound out closer to the front gate

Enid ushers me and Daryl ahead, as she detours from our route to go find Maggie. The man and I continue to run for our lives, in the direction that the girl sent us.

When she returns with Maggie, the front gate opens and the large, noisy trucks make their way into the Hilltop.

Maggie joins us as we follow Enid towards a building in the back. "We'll never make it in time."

"Come on!" The girl persists.

Enid flings open the doors to a cellar, backing away from its entrance. "Just stay down there." She tells us. "I'll keep them away. They aren't the same ones who came to Alexandria."

Maggie enters first, and then myself, while Daryl stays behind to close the doors.

Soon, most of the light from the outside disappears, as Daryl and Enid shut the last of the cellar doors, leaving only a few streaks of sunlight to keep us from complete darkness. And the three of us are left to hide in the dark, humid cellar.

We all clammer around a bit, before Daryl and Maggie push me behind a few sacks of grain. Soon after, the two of them hide behind a cluttered shelf, and we all peek around towards the closed entrance.

Aside from my worry for Enid, I also worry for the two adults alongside me. One of which, the Saviors think is dead and the other, the Saviors are actively out to kill.

But because we were all there the night of their big introduction, they'd instantly recognize us, and our affiliation with the Hilltop would be discovered.

The door to the cellar begins to creak open, and light begins to pour in. I place to my hand on my familiar—yet very unfamiliar—screwdriver, squeezing at its grip.

A man—a Savior—slowly walks down the cellar steps, before scanning his eyes throughout the shelves that conceal Daryl and Maggie. It seems like eons before the man grabs a container of whatever supplies he came to steal, and retreats back up the cellar steps.

To my surprise, the man has the decency to turn around and close the door behind him, not knowing he's playing a part in keeping us concealed.

☆

After Daryl was left with no choice but to admit his guilt to Maggie, Enid finally came to get us from the cellar.

It was then that I'd learned that the Saviors had taken Dr. Carson, leaving me with no more of a reason to stay at Hilltop. My voyage here, once again, proved itself completely useless.

Now, I sit on all fours on the floor of the neatly stocked infirmary, packing some supplies into my duffel, before I plan to head out.

It was Maggie who'd put a warm hand on my shoulder and told me to take anything I needed.

But what the woman doesn't know is that I'd mostly come here to prepare myself for the birth of her child. And now, she's left with nobody who's equipped to deal with her impending labor. Exactly like I'd suspected.

I continue to pack different things into the bag, taking only what Alexandria needs. Nothing but a guilty conscience driving my every move before I prepare to make the trip back, alone.

The door to the infirmary opens. I ignore the few footsteps as I ready myself to avoid an awkward encounter with another one of Hilltop's unfamiliar citizens.

"Hey, kid."

I slowly turn my head around, landing my eyes on Daryl.

Almost immediately, I drop the cluster of bandages from my hands, and straighten myself out as I stand to face him. "Hey, Daryl."

The hesitant man looks around, no emotion on his face. Over time, I've grown to notice that he rarely shows what he's feeling before he's able to say it. It's what makes him the man he is.

He lifts his eyes from the ground. "I went back for you guys."

"What?"

"That next night—at that car." Daryl says. He allows the door to close behind him. "I ditched those guys. I went back. You two weren't there."

I suck in a breath, the skin wrinkled between my brows flattens out. "Oh."

"Accidentally lead those guys straight to Rick and Michonne." He starts, with a slow nod. "We got rid of 'em, though."

I allow a shy, nervous smile to crack its way onto my stiff lips. "That's good."

The two of us stare at the other for a few more awkward moments. A painfully tense cloud of air surrounds us as we normally only have conversations in passing. Before now, neither of us have dared to acknowledge what almost happened to Carl and I that night.

With a nervous swallow, I turn around and kneel back on the ground, beginning to sort through the supplies in the duffel.

"I just thought you should know." Daryl mutters.

From behind my back and across the room, the doorknob to the infirmary clicks as he once again opens it.

In a sudden surge of anxiousness, I squeeze my eyes shut, before standing to my feet once again. "Daryl, wait!"

The man turns around to face me, once again. One foot inside the door and the other still on its way out. "Yeah?"

"You saved me and Carl." I tighten my lips with a reassuring grin. "And I never got the chance to thank you for that."

"You don't need t—"

"Yes, I do." I shake my head. "Because of what you did that night—saving us—everything worked itself out."

The man's eyes drop from my own, straight to the ground.

"Not everything."

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4082 words

A/N

Oh buddy, has a lot happened since we last spoke.

1) SORRY for not uploading in two weeks
2) SORRY for editing/republishing and blowing up your phones
3) my little cousins found my damn tiktok for this book and I deleted the account but I got it back and blocked them and they have no idea

also, I just want to say that I have the BEST readers in the world and there's literally no hate or negativity on wattpad. Like on tiktok, everything is so negative and it's filled with people looking to cause problems and it's just so exhausting.

so thank you guys for being the LITERAL BEST FUCKING READERS SOMEONE CAN ASK FOR you really don't know how much of a relief it is to check my wattpad notifs vs tiktok

☆leave a vote if Daryl doesn't deserve the entirety of what happens to him in s7 ☆