ALL THE LOVELY BAD ONES | CARL GRIMES

alternate ending.

It was ironic, as my father had a difficult time accepting Eleanor's pregnancy in the beginning. Now he parades my daughter around on his shoulders, let's her call him Papa, sings to her songs he sang to me as a young child. He's always telling Eleanor and I that we're doing a good job but back when he found out he wouldn't even look at her, the pregnant girl, and barely acknowledged me, the impregnanter who was to blame. We had been so young at the time and thinking of us as soon-to-be parents probably overloaded his already full list of things to worry about. He eventually warmed up to the idea but it wasn't until our daughter was born and Michonne brought him in to see her, to hold her, that he fully took on the role of grandfather. He kissed the baby, then Eleanor, then me with tears in his eyes. Happy tears that I had never seen before, he wasn't one to be so overjoyed her wept. He said he was proud of us. I had done nothing for him to be proud of, if anything, Eleanor deserved all the praise.

The doctor later admitted to me it was touch and go during the delivery, that my girl almost died. I had always appreciated Eleanor but it wasn't until she became a mother, risking her life in the process, did I really see her as the strongest woman I had ever known. I held her tighter every night after that, kissed her longer, watched every step as she walked away even if she was only leaving to return soon. She was brilliant. An absolute wonder.

I could see how becoming a father can change a person. I had my own family and my life belonged to them. Every decision and choice I made was with my two girls in mind.

I didn't realize how long I'd been watching the sky until I felt an arm come up around my waist, a head against my shoulder, and I saw then that the stars were beginning to twinkle through the winter bare limbs of our backyard oak tree.

"Enid just left?" I asked, looking down at the girl leaning on me. Her graceful, waif-like body billowing like a willow bough to meet mine.

She stood before me, a vision of strength and beauty against the backdrop of our tumultuous journey. Her golden locks cascaded in waves around her sun-kissed face, framing features so delicate yet brimming with determination. Her eyes, a mesmerizing blend of earthy hues, held a fierce intensity, like flames flickering in the darkness, betraying the depths of her resilience. There was a grace to her movements, a confidence that radiated from her every step, as if she were born to navigate the chaos that surrounded us. And yet, beneath the surface, I sensed a vulnerability, a tenderness that she kept guarded against the harshness of our reality. She was a paradox, simultaneously fragile and unyielding, my El.

"Yeah, told me to tell you to kindly screw off about the Alden situation." Eleanor's eyes lifted to meet my lone one. Forest hazel on icy blue. I had stopped hiding behind the bandages a long time ago, baring my loss of an eye and subsequent facial disfigurement for all to see. There was a lot of staring at first but it was Eleanor's insistence at its beauty and strength that kept me from covering it.

"I just think they'd be good for each other. And they were literally eye-banging each other the entire night. Like every time I looked at either of them they were staring at the other like—" And then I stared intensely into Eleanor's eyes with as much exaggerated lust as possible which made her laugh, such a joyful noise.

She turned away and shook her head a moment later, almost in disbelief. "Holy shit, though."

"What?"

"We have a six year old child. I feel like that's an accomplishment."

I nodded. "Oh, it definitely is. Especially in apocalypse terms. Six whole years of parenthood."