┌───────────────────┐

└───────────────────┘

C A R L

I was only a child when I first learned how to shoot a gun.

Although pretty early on, it was still an appropriate time for me to handle the weapon, as I'd already been shot by one. And I needed to learn how to prevent that from happening again.

Shooting a gun wasn't scary. Being shot by one wasn't too scary, either. Though I didn't remember much about it, besides the pain.

What I do remember about it all, is my motivation.

At the time, we'd settled on a farm. It was where we ended up after I'd gotten shot, while searching for Sophia.

She was the first of my many different motivations. It meant so much to everybody—finding her.

Little Carl just wanted to get out of that bed and help out with the search, just like the adults did. I didn't care much about my injury. I was just focused on what I'd be able to do to help, once I was fully healed.

It was then that I developed a new trick to help myself cope with what was happening in my world. Behind every struggle, every injury, every walker—was a finish line. And on the other side of that line was everyone I'd ever loved. Everyone I needed to protect.

And if I messed up—out there in the world—I might never get to cross it, and never get to see them again.

I didn't intentionally try to think of life in this morbid way, but it did keep me from giving up. Time and time again.

But—my hope of having a finish line first shattered once, when I was all alone. Having no one to protect, to motivate me—no one to live for. I was useless to myself. It was then—that night I spent in the soaking, wet barn—that I'd lost hope of ever having someone to cross the finish line for.

Fortunately, I was wrong. Very wrong. And somehow, I found my way back to someone I thought would never be waiting for me on the other side.

Out on that two-week long run, there was only one person getting me through each day as they continued to drag on. She was the only one waiting for me at my finish line. And that was more than enough to get me back home safely.

The girl who'd just given me a taste of what I'd been unknowingly craving for a long time. And I so badly wanted to have more of it. I couldn't wait to have her back.

Little did I know, also at my finish line—standing right beside her—was the rest of my group.

And along with the group, came the conflict they brought everywhere with them. When I'd crossed that line, the painfully obvious problems were hidden in plain sight, behind such a pretty face.

Problems that would come to make part of me wish that I never made it across that finish line in the first place.

"What are we, Megan?"

Tears continue to sting my eyes. The foreign feeling making my whole face burn. I haven't cried in a very long time. It is not something I do much. Especially in front of anyone.

But, today—as I stand inside my own gloomy house, going back and forth with the girl—it seems to be my day of reckoning.

"We—we're best friends, Carl." The girl's broken voice says. Her tired eyes seem to reach out to me. The prevalent bagginess under them—from the exhaustion of her injuries—seem to be intensified by her escaping tears.

I huff out an angry laugh—a breathy one—at the girl's generic response. The girl takes a few steps toward me. Then, I take a single step backwards.

"You're exactly what I need, and what I need right now is a friend." Megan says. Another tear skids down her cheek, before trailing down to her jaw. "But there's just one thing that I need more. And that's a family, Carl."

"Friends don't have the same damn conversation over and over again." I angrily say, followed by a reluctant sigh. Maybe the second part of what she said is making me react in this way. My irrefutably bold acknowledgment leaves the girl with almost no way to avoid it.

"Oh is that what's happening here?" She starts, as if what happened that night on the dock is completely wiped from her memory. She quickly brings up one of her hands and wipes away her own tear. "Because this is all new to me."

"That's what's been happening." My angry tone cuts through her sarcastic one. "And I'm getting sick of it."

"Then maybe you should just let me go." The frail state of her voice making it nearly hard to hear her.

Nothing comes out of my open mouth, at first. Nothing at all. My eyes roll and my head moves up and down with a defeated nod.

"Maybe I should."

The girl stares at me, her lips slightly parted, in—what I can only make out to be—a mix of anger, confusion, and betrayal. She didn't think I'd give up so easily, not matter how badly she might've wanted me to. I guess it didn't seem like I'd let up so soon.

Her awe-stricken expression makes it clear that my words hurt her, but I now know that there's nothing I can say that will change her mind.

"I've been trying to stop you from running, again." I start. "And I shouldn't." I say, shaking my head. Another sarcastic laugh makes it way to the surface, amidst my growing pool of tears, that are building and ready to spill at any moment.

The girl's mouth closes and her eyebrows furrow after my words. She tries to study my face, but I can tell that she's too busy thinking about what I just said. More-so what it meant.

"Look," I start. "You want to run? Run." My throaty voice says as I take a step closer to the girl, who continues to shrink in on herself. "I know where I'm supposed to be."

Finally—almost as if on a cue—a tear falls from the stinging warmth in my eyes, landing on my cheek.

"I won't stop you this time."

A few moments of tense silence pass. The girl now avoids my harsh stare, slightly turning her head to the side. Once she finally faces me again, I see that her tears have multiplied, her damp cheeks glistening in the dark room.

"I was right. Our luck's run out—you and me." She starts, sending me a pained glare.

Megan's tear-stained cheeks and crumbling demeanor are all that run through my mind immediately after her statement.

Her eyes look from me, then toward the pile of clothing sprawled out on her bed.

"I'll send Ron by to come get my stuff." She says.

Her lips quivers before she chokes out a sob. She then lifts her hand over her mouth, trying to muffle more of her pained cries.

All I want to do is to feel better—to make her feel better. But, that's not something I feel I have the right to do anymore. I stand frozen, somewhat helpless. Another one of my warm tears cascades down the trail previously paved by the ones before it.

There's nothing left to say as I watch the girl head toward the door. She doesn't bother looking back to me as she grabs her jacket from the shelf, folding it over her arms, hesitating a bit before she finally walks out of her bedroom door.

It's not long before her quiet footsteps thud down the stairs, followed by the soft sound of the front door opening.

The door then slams closed, leaving me in complete silence.

☆

My dad came by the house to visit me after Megan left that day. He hung around long enough to witness Ron come and grab a box of her things later that night, which called for a few minutes of very awkward silence.

With nothing left to hide, I ended up coming clean to him about everything. It was a little intimidating, having to do it all alone.

The situation wound up being less explosive than I'd anticipated. My dad wasn't too concerned with what'd happened back at the prison. And then he even said that he wasn't mad at me or Megan. He assured me that I had nothing to be afraid of.

At least not yet.

The reason why he took the news so well was because we had bigger problems right under our noses. Problems of epic proportions. Something we'd never dealt with before.

It was brought to his attention, by Jessie—who'd relayed the information from Ron and Megan—that there was a horde right outside of Alexandria. A large one. Bigger than the ones at the prison fences—more walkers than we'd ever seen together in one place.

Although that seems like enough worries for one day, I currently stand posted in the living room of my own house—that used to only belong to me and Megan—with a rifle in hand.

Carol saw the chaos through the window and left in a rush. She told me to keep Judith safe and to not let her casserole burn.

The blaring silence consumes the still house. Every now and then I'll hear the thud of a gunshot. But after, the silence just picks up right where it left off.

I can't help but wonder if Megan is okay during all of this. Although she is one hell of a fighter, there is a chance that she's not okay. Very not okay.

These people move silently, and she could've been taken out before she even knew what was happening. She could die while we're in the middle of this stupid argument.

And even worse, she could be dead not knowing that the entire thing was pointless. She would never get to find out that everything was okay with my dad, and that she could've come back home.

As she's been the only thing on my mind, I've spent the last few days trying to think of an excuse to get into the infirmary, to tell her about how things went with my dad.

This morning I almost worked up the courage to go inside, whilst I was walking Judith. I could've claimed that she was sick. No one could turn away a sick baby. But I chickened out before reaching the second step.

A scratching sound comes from the back door, making my head turn immediately.

The knob gently jiggles with the vibrations coming from the other side. Due to the shear drapes being closed, I can only make out a silhouette of the figure in the window.

I creep around the corner, careful to keep myself out of view from the locked door.

My heart pounds in my chest with a pulsating thud, knowing that one of those people are trying to get in the same house as my baby sister. The one I'd taken for granted and just gotten back.

Somehow, the person on the other side gets the door unlocked with ease.

Right after I hear the click of the doorknob, I swing around the corner, ready to mow down whoever stands in front of me.

The barrel of my gun is aimed in the face of no one other than Megan.

This is the first I've seen of her in days. I couldn't even manage to catch a glimpse of her around the streets. If I hadn't known any better, I could've swore that the girl standing in front of me was just a figment of my imagination.

The sight of her being somewhat foreign, even after all the time we've spent together and everything we've been through.

Her familiar pale hair and piercing green eyes are even more lovely than I remember. She has clearly healed from her bedrest, as her eyes no longer have the faded purple bags underneath. The rejuvenation in her skin is something I'm relieved to see, although under such condemning conditions.

Maybe she is better off without me.

"Get that thing out of my face." She says, locking eyes with me from just beyond the tip of my gun.

The stun that the girl has me under—for a few moments—leaves her trapped between the barrel of my gun and the open door, which exposes her backside to the dangers of the cloaked people.

I snap out of my daze, immediately lowering the gun, moving toward the door and closing it. "Why didn't you just knock?"

"I came to bring this back." She shoulders passed me, lifting up her hand and opening it. A small key—clearly a bit aged—lies flat on her small palm. "I didn't want to drop it out there and have one of them find it." Megan then walks over to the countertop, flipping her hand over and allowing the metal to clink to the surface.

A ghost of a smile crosses my face. The first one to make an appearance in days.

While being concerned that she'd somehow drop a small key, and one of the intruders would somehow find the exact door it belongs to—a door that leads them straight to me—is a valid concern, it doesn't seem like a realistic excuse.

Although it does mean that she cares whether or not I die, it's evident that she also couldn't help but want to actively make sure that I'm okay.

And to me, that is a success.

"Is Ron here?" She asks, motioning her head a bit. "I can't find him anywhere."

Discovering her true reasoning is a bit of a blow to my short moment of happiness. But I take a second to bargain with myself. What's important is that she's here right now, speaking to me.

Out on the road—when times were at their toughest—the girl and I tended to be at each other's throats. Though we bickered and fought, we never lost sight of the bigger picture. We'd quickly learned to put the resentment aside, and focus on our own survival.

I guess that's what she is doing right now—putting everything aside—even if she did simply just want to know if I was okay.

I shake my head. "Haven't seen him."

"Shit." She mutters, turning on her heel. The girl then takes a few steps straight toward the back door.

"Where are you going?"

"To find him." She starts, barely turning her head over her shoulder to look back at me. "He's still out there."

"Do you know who he was with last?" I say, trying to stall her. "When they got inside the walls?"

While there is no way in hell that I am letting her go back out there—especially for Ron—I need to entertain the idea, in order to not have a repeat of what happened between us the other night.

And it'd be a good idea to let the girl know that I actually am concerned for Ron's well-being, despite how I may have treated him. I have to make the most of my first opportunity to speak to her. It's important to consider what will happen between us after we're out of this stupid fight.

And part of that is making my amends with the person who is—at the moment—closest to her, her other family. If I want things to work out, I need to learn to get over myself and have a more welcoming attitude about the kid.

"No," She sighs. "I locked Jessie and Sam in my closet—told them to stay put. I promised them I'd bring him back."

I feel a sense of detachment from the girl I thought I knew, when she refers to the Anderson's closet as her own. Her nonchalant phrasing displays how casual the new arrangement is for her. All this time I'd assumed being apart is as weird for her as it has been for me.

I just have to persevere—show her that I want what's best for her, even if that includes myself ending up all alone. Then maybe—just maybe she'll come back.

"He'll be okay." I say with a sigh. "He's probably just somewhere hid—"

The front door opens briskly, before slamming closed. Normally paced footsteps make their way into the kitchen with confidence.

Megan and I turn our heads at the source of the noise, waiting in anticipation as the footsteps inch closer. The girl pulls out her screwdriver, one that she somehow managed to keep ahold of after all this time.

I hover my finger over the trigger of my gun, aiming it just beyond the wall and into the kitchen.

"Hi?" Enid says.

"God," Megan sighs. We both lower our weapons upon the entrance of a confused Enid. "You scared me." She mutters, walking forward and closing the gap between them.

Quickly, the two girls embrace each other for a moment, letting go almost immediately. Yet another friendship that must have blossomed while I was gone, makes its appearance.

I'd never actually had a conversation with Enid. We exchanged a few words when I first went over to the Anderson's house, but that was the extent of our relationship.

"I just needed to know you were okay." Enid says. Such a compassionate phrase coming from such a dark girl catches me somewhat off guard. "And I wanted to say goodbye."

A few distraught moments capture me and Megan. I take it upon myself to assume that the girl knows what Enid is talking about, because I sure don't.

"Go watch the back door," Megan starts, immediately dismissing Enid's words. "Tell us if you see any sign of Ron." She shuffles on her feet, shouldering passed Enid and locking the door behind her.

"I'm not staying."

"You're not going anywhere." Megan says, finally acknowledging the severity of Enid's words.

Her eyebrows furrow and her glare hardens at a nonchalant Enid, who just stands there. The angry crinkles scattering her skin demonstrate the concern she's grown to have for the girl. I—on the other hand—don't know the girl at all, and don't really plan to.

But, if Megan cares about Enid, then I guess I have to, too.

"Stay here and help us protect Judith." I say, turning the attention toward myself.

"I can't." Enid starts, switching her gaze between both me and Megan. "We're screwed. Don't you get that? This place is too big to prot—"

A few echoing gunshots lead to the sound of a thudding, creaking crunch, followed by the ongoing sound of a horn. A very loud one.

The two girls and I take a moment to look around. After a few intense seconds of the blaring noise, it finally shuts off.

But I'm afraid, even just one second of that gut-wrenching horn would do all the damage needed, especially while my dad is out there leading away a horde.

"What was that?"

☆

Much to Megan's relief, we were able to find Ron.

In the aftermath of an eventful morning, I was left with yet another death at the mercy of my hands—although warranted by an immediate threat. I did what I had to do to protect the stubborn boy, who still wasn't having any of what I had to say.

Soon after that, Aaron found Megan and brought her to the infirmary. I hadn't seen either of them since the morning. But it was nice to know that she was safe inside the walls, unlike Enid, who'd disappeared while I was protecting her very own boyfriend.

After Megan was called away to tend to the many injured Alexandrians, I decided it'd be best to return to my post as well. Guarding Judith—all alone, after everything that happened—was almost cathartic for me.

I was able to savor a few peaceful moments while waiting for my dad to get back. I'd allowed myself to think that the hard part was over, until I found out what he'd brought back with him.

It was all a blur.

One second, I was taking Carol's casserole out of the oven, and the next I was getting called out of the house. People saying there was an emergency, and that my father was calling a meeting.

Standing next to the walls while the dead banged on the metal from the other side was unsettling as I tried to listen to my father's speech.

It was a bit peculiar seeing Ron and Megan make an appearance, but they didn't stay for long. The two never stay anywhere for very long.

After hearing whatever my dad could offer of reassurance, the meeting was dismissed and we were sent our separate ways.

It didn't take long before I stumbled across a lonely Ron, sitting in the grass.

The boy jabs his knife into the dirt before picking it up and then doing it again.

"Are you okay?" I extend him the first olive branch after the way I treated him the other day. Aside from saving his life earlier, which he still hasn't thanked me for.

"Why wouldn't I be?" His smart response being well-deserved on my part.

"Have you seen Megan?" I ask.

The boy looks up to me, his eyes squinting from the sun. He says nothing.

"How's she been doing with all of this?" I say, using my hand to motion a bit. My words not needing much of an explanation, as the chaos is evident to anyone inside the walls.

"I'd tell you to go ask her yourself, but I don't think she wants anything to do with you." He remarks.

The similarity between his stubbornness and Megan's is uncanny. It's not difficult to understand how those two came to be so close.

"Come on, man." I say, pleading with the difficult kid in front of me.

He holsters his knife in his waistband, before standing up and turning on his heel.

My voice hitches in my throat as I inch forward, talking to his back. "Look," I start. "We both care about her, okay? Why don't we just try t—"

He turns around to face me. "I'm not helping you."

"This isn't for me," I say with a sigh. "It's for Megan. Your friend."

"My family." He states.

"Well—she's my best friend, and I think she'd like it if we just put an end to th—"

"What you think she wants, is probably what's really only benefitting you." He starts, his anger escalating as he points a finger in my face, stepping closer.

Never quite seeing such an angry side to the boy, I instinctively take a step backwards. A guilty gulp going down my throat as I do so.

"I saw her come home that day she moved in. You didn't. You didn't have to see—or deal with what you put her through." He starts, shaking his head, his glaring eyes squinting a little. "Making her choose like that."

"That's not fair." I mutter. Ron remains standing in front of me, an angry look on his face.

"What's not fair is the position you put her in." The volume of his voices increases as he raises it.

"God, everything that's going on right now and you made it all about yourself." His words end with one harsh shove to my shoulder.

The slight truth behind his words stings my soul a little, no matter how hard I try to play it off as his unrequited angst.

My rage takes over when I realize that if Ron thinks about me this way, then Megan probably does too.

Normally, I wouldn't retaliate. But this time, as the world ends around me—in every single aspect—I don't take the consequences into consideration, before shoving him back.

This causes him to full-fledged lunge himself at me, grabbing at my chest and shirt. We both struggle for a few moments before I finally manage to shove him to the ground.

I take a moment to contain myself, shrugging the fabric of my shirt back into place.

Prick.

☆

I've taken it upon myself to continue with my weapon training shift as normal. Earlier, I told Father Gabriel—a new addition to our group—that I'd train him in the afternoon. And I plan on sticking to my word, as if there isn't a horde banging on the walls.

My father said it'd be best for me to go about my day, but to stay quiet as I do so. He also mentioned me that Ron stopped by his watch post earlier. He said that the boy asked about coming to my training session today.

He said that he wanted to learn how to protect himself, as well as his mom, his brother and Megan. Something about what happened to the two of them a few days ago out at the quarry.

My father left the choice up to me, as it is now also my job assignment. As for whether or not I will train Ron, I still have no idea.

I stand here, pondering the possibility of teaching him how to handle a gun as I stand at my post, cleaning a few of them.

On one hand, it could help me recover from the scene I'd provoked with him earlier. But—on the other, more dangerous hand—I'm not too sure if I trust the boy with the knowledge of how to operate a loaded gun.

"Hey." A familiar voice says from behind me.

I turn my head around from the empty pistol in my hands, looking over my shoulder to see Megan walking towards the training table.

The corner of my lip begins to twitch, seeing the expression on her face looking to be surprisingly neutral.

My creeping smile fades immediately when I see Ron walking up behind her.

"Hey." I mutter, studying the two of them as approach me.

"Did your dad talk to you? About t—" Ron starts.

"Yeah, he did." My voice interjects.

The tugging of my mood in several different directions causes my shortness with the boy.

"And?"

Ron eyes flick over to me. A testing glance.

The growing animosity between the boy and I makes itself known during the silence after my words. Both of us stare at each other—locking eyes across the table—feuding in front of Megan, seemingly without her knowledge.

"I told you this was a waste of time." The girl says, shouldering passed Ron. She makes sure to send me a glare before grabbing a gun off the table. "I'll just show you, myself."

The boy follows her as she moves over, motioning with the empty pistol.

"Handguns will be a bit better for your first go." She starts.

"Magazine release," She clicks it, showing Ron how the clip slides out. "Slide release," She cranks the release to the side, before flipping it back over. "Thumb safety." She motions again.

I keep my eyes locked on Ron's curious eyes as he studies Megan's demonstration. The confidence in his demeanor lowers when he becomes a bit overwhelmed by the speed of Megan's talking.

"That stuff's easy," I start.

Ron looks over his shoulder, a bothered glare sent my way.

"Right, Megan?"

☆

The church tower was only able to hold its own for so long before it toppled over, taking down one of the wall panels with it. Everything that we were fighting to keep out, eventually found its way in. Just like it always does.

Being trapped inside of a house between one person who dreads my presence and another who is actively trying to kill me is the least of my problems. Draping myself in a ripped up bedsheet just to get wiped down with walker guts also didn't phase me too much.

But, watching the look on Megan's face as Jessie smeared the putrid blood across her sheet was almost too much for my longing heart to handle.

The charming girl—an image of grace in my eyes—covered in the most rancid of substances is something I never thought our survival would come to. I wish I could tell her that this is all okay. That everything will be okay. But I haven't yet managed to steal a moment alone with her during such frantic times.

It's not hard to tell—by her red, glassy eyes—that Megan is distraught when my father slips Judith underneath my sheet. Though holding my baby sister renders one of my arms completely useless, I take a silent moment and extend my other hand out to the worried girl, as the front of the group begins to make their way down the stairs.

The girl studies my offer, her eyes then flicking up from my extended hand, toward my face. But when her eyes flicker back down, Ron is by her side, nearly between us. An extended hand of his own, also reaching out to her.

Sucking in a breath, Megan glances between both of our hands, a skeptical look on her face. Her bottom lip twitches in thought, before she swiftly takes ahold of Ron's hand, leaving mine lonely.

Although slightly hurt by her subtle action, I extend my hand out to Ron, not having any other choice. He makes sure to stare me down, before hesitantly grabbing it, lining up between me and Megan.

The boy's loaded handgun—given to him earlier by Megan, which I later confiscated—digs into my side, while I move my body down the stairs and through the front door.

I'd taken it from him earlier, when he tried to get the jump on me.

The girl still has no idea what happened between us in the garage, or Jessie's bedroom. Ron did a good job of discreetly keeping her occupied so that I couldn't find a time to warn her about him.

He continues to keep the distance between the girl and I—just like he has been all day long—as we slowly ease our way down the porch steps, entering the land of the dead.

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────
5059 words

A/N

first, I want to say welcome to anyone who came here from my tiktok! you guys have been legit rocking my socks these passed few days

second, if you haven't already, go check out my tiktok @ disturbedia.wp

Also YES the first scene IS originally from daryl and Carol season 10 ep 18. And it fit BEAUTIFULLY

^^my original A/N

☆leave a vote if ur ready for the turmoil I'm about to put Megan through ☆