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M E G A N
Things in my life have finally managed to turn themselves back around.
It's more-so the universe's accomplishment than it is mine, as I sure haven't been the one to re-establish all the relationships I'd lost during the few months following Carl's injury.
Ever since a few nights ago—when I changed Carl's bandage—I've finally come to terms with letting myself accept the good things that the world has to offer me. It's something that I simply have to do, in order to enjoy whatever amount of time I have left on this earth.
Despite the fact that I now live in a state of near-permanent scurry, trying to stay out of its ruins.
After that night, my next step to reclaiming my life was to give Enid the information that she said she wanted. I'd avoided the girl for months, and my only opportunity to call a truce with her, came along with Carl's return into my life, right when he stepped foot in that infirmary.
Enid was pretty enthused to hear the story of how we made up. She was really happy for the both of us, and quite entertained by our dramatic antics.
After I told her the continuation of the shit-show, she convinced me to stop by the Rhee household for a family dinner. I was a bit apprehensive at first, because the thought of having to face members of my group was terrifying. But Enid—being Enid—convinced me that it would be fine.
And it was fine, until she and Maggie stepped out to grab some pickles from the pantry. The woman had a hankering for them for some odd, immediate reason.
Which—as of now—leaves Glenn and I awkwardly standing in the Rhee's kitchen. Nothing yet to say as we both know what the other is thinking about. We both silently ponder the last time we spoke, aside from when I had to treat his wounds from the aftermath of that horde.
The silence between the awkward grown man and I, —I now realize—is obsolete, as Rick is now well aware of what Carl and I did, and it's been months since I've had to deal with the aftermath.
None of said aftermath ever came from Rick, himself—only from his son and I arguing—as the man didn't really see a point in rehashing the past. Especially when our present—at the time—was spent dealing with the massive horde that pound at our walls.
"I—" Glenn and I both start.
"You know, Meg—"
"I'm not m—"
We both say again, causing the both of us to loosely laugh at ourselves. After my laughter, I sigh. "Go ahead."
"I'm sorry that I had to go and do that to you and Carl." Glenn says, his lips folding inward and his eyebrows nervously raising. "I just—I can't keep a secret to save my life." He sheepishly starts. "I heard that I uh—I kinda caused world war three between you guys."
"Yeah." I laugh. "Yeah, you kinda did. But that's all over now." I sigh, collecting myself and finally making sincere eye contact with him." Consider it forg—"
"Glenn, Megan! Come on the food's getting cold." Maggie shouts, from the dining room. The front door abruptly slams after she and Enid walk back into the house.
Without the use of words, Glenn and I quickly put the awkward conversation—as well as its past—to rest.
The four of us soon settle into the dinner. A pretty casual sharing of food takes place as we silently fill our plates. It doesn't take me long to notice the three of them exchanging obvious eye contact with each other, trying to avoid my notice.
"What?"
"Aren't you going to tell her?" Enid finally pipes up, motioning across the table toward Maggie and Glenn.
"Tell me what?"
My eyes flick from Enid, towards a guilty Maggie. Then, finally, they land on a sheepish Glenn.
"I guess I'll ask her." He pretends to sigh in defeat.
"Ask me what?" I begin to get annoyed.
Maggie can barely contain the mischievous smile on her face, as she flips her hair over her shoulder her hand reaches out, grabbing Glenn's over the surface of the wooden table.
Her comforting touch gives the man the go-ahead. Glenn then places a gentle hand over his wife's lower stomach.
The couple looks down at his hand, and then to each other, before finally turning towards me.
"How equipped are you to deal with prenatal care?"
☆
I haven't felt much of anything since what happened a few nights ago, let alone shed any tears.
And, even that next morning—as I stared down at the gravel, watching as Glenn and Abraham slowly became a part of the soil—I was all out of tears. I'm still all dried out.
The only thing that kept me from sinking into the gravel with them—what helped me to finally peel myself off of that ground—was that it wasn't Carl.
It wasn't him.
And that was all I had to cling onto.
And the few times that I had allowed myself to explore the possibility that it could've been Carl, I also would have liked to think about how I probably never would've peeled myself from the ground, on that day.
I would've never lived to see the reign of terror that this man now has over Alexandria.
I'd heard the sound of the heavy trucks clunking their way up to the front gate. The Saviors' trucks that made that same, sputtering noise as they drove away from the gravel lot, leaving us to our own devices after they'd taken away a part of everyone there.
I'm not ready to see that wretched man again, and I won't be until it's his corpse that my eyes can rest upon.
The sight of his silhouette at the front gate of Alexandria sent shivers down my spine. And then, the sound of his smug whistling echoed through the community he came to just to taunt. To rub it all in, as if we'd somehow forgotten.
Therefore, I slid away and hid in this familiar place, in order to grasp onto whatever I can of this safety net. My infirmary, in one of the houses farthest from the front.
But, I know that it's only a matter of time before they come looking for the valuables we have stored here.
It's the new world order. We provide for them, or they'll do it again. And we have no choice to believe them.
We don't really have much choice of anything anymore.
My dry eyes continuously scan the room over my shoulder. The shakiness of my nervous hands makes it hard to shove whatever I can of medical supplies into a small duffel. But I continue to do so, as quickly as I can.
I need to have some stuff here, in order to further take care of a beaten Eugene. The man is physically reminded of what happened that night every time he moves a sore muscle.
So, no matter how deep of shit I'd be in if I were to be caught, I knowingly continue to pack the contraband.
The front door slams, causing me to jolt, and tears my mind from the horror of what took place a few days ago.
My body immediately tenses. I pick my head up and straighten my posture, anticipating the several different possibilities of who it could be. Maybe even him. Or it could just be another Alexandrian seeking refuge within the small infirmary.
I slowly push the duffle under the bed, and stand to my feet.
Carl appears from around the corner. A relieved look takes over his bothered face.
"There you are." The boy frantically sighs, before his footsteps quicken, closing the gap between us.
He swiftly takes me into his arms, wrapping them tightly around my upper back. I can only embrace him for a moment, before he puts his hands at my sides and pushes me away. "They're on their way here."
"Wh—"
The boy continues to push me backwards. "You need to hide. Now."
He then pulls something out from underneath his arm, shoving it into my hands. "Take this with you." He starts. "Hurry."
Without looking, I grab whatever it is from Carl's hand. The slightly heavy item not being in the shape of a gun—or any form of protection—like what I was expecting him to hand me.
"Why are you giving me Deanna's camera?" I ask.
"He was recording my dad, mocking him." He starts, continuing to shove me towards the back room. "I snuck it out of the box when they took him to the graveyard."
I become flustered, knowing what the man is capable of. And that if he holds the same amount of disregard for a simple grave, as he does for the living, then I don't want that man anywhere near where my loved ones are buried. "Wh—Why did they take him to the gr—"
"I don't know!" Carl hurriedly says. "Just hide!"
"Wait!" I quietly shout, matching his tone.
My feet quickly walk over to the bed, that Carl abruptly pushed me away from. I hurriedly pull out the duffle from underneath, and shove the camcorder on top of the supplies I previously hid.
I grip the handle to the bag, and then stand tall, allowing Carl to finally usher me into the room.
"I'll distract them." Carl starts. "Stay quiet and don't move until I come get you."
But before he can close the door, I stick my foot through it, creating a small gap. The boy lifts his frantic eye up from my shoe and studies my unreadable expression.
"Don't do anything stupid." I scold him, to which he breathes out a twitch of a smile.
"Don't worry," He starts. "I'll be back."
"You'll be back."
☆
Carl came back.
And what he did was definitely stupid.
It might've set us back even further with the Saviors, but his warning gunshot did, somehow, distract the men from finding me in that back room. The little amount of medical supplies, and Deanna's old camcorder, are still under Alexandria's possession, thanks to the angry boy.
Normally, I'd be furious with how reckless Carl acted, back in the infirmary. But, as I hid in that room and listened to the commotion on the other side of the door, I was able to understand exactly why he was acting on such impulse.
Also, I couldn't really be mad at the boy.
While he managed to keep that man from me, he also managed to keep me from it all. From having to face the same evil I'd experienced just days before. Even just listening to that man's muffled voice from other side of the door, was enough make my heart pound outside of my chest.
At first, I didn't know how Carl did it. How he dealt with it. But—after the saviors left the infirmary—the speed at which he came inside the room, and eagerly took me into his arms, is what told me everything I needed to know.
He was doing it all for me. To keep me away from it.
I now sit, in my—Ron's—mattressless room. The empty bed frame of no use anymore, causing me to create my own spot on the floor. Just by the use of a small blanket and pillow that I had to steal from the room I hid in.
The other supplies I had to steal—the medicine and the camera—are now tucked away, hidden in the bottom drawer of my dresser.
The boy didn't want me to hide out in the infirmary anymore, where he could no longer be if I needed him to cause another distraction. Carl quietly snuck me here—into mine and Olivia's own, raided house—after he made sure that the men were done loading up what was left of our medicine.
He left me here a few hours ago, headed straight for the church.
The boy also didn't want me to attend the meeting about the witch-hunt Rick is holding for the two missing guns.
I've been rotting away in this empty room, ever since. The events that took place with the aid of the bat, running circles through my mind. Over, and over, and over again.
The setting sun sends the last of its flares through the second-story windows, before taking a few moments for its light to finally die down.
A creak sounds out as the bedroom door slowly opens.
Carl peaks his head in, before squeezing his way through and quietly shutting it behind him. Without a word, the boy walks across the dark room, and sits on the floor next to me.
The warmth radiating from his body comforts me, and I slowly lean towards it. He swiftly lifts his arm over my head, and wraps it around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest.
"They're gone." He mutters into my hair.
"Good." I whisper.
The silence continues for just a few moments, as I keep my blank stare directed towards the floor.
Although stunned, I've grown to acknowledge the good in the things around me. And being within Carl's arms—after what could've happened to him the other night—is almost like winning the lottery.
"Thank you." I mutter.
"For what?"
"I didn't have to see him at all, today." I remark, lifting an eyebrow, although I still don't turn to face him. "You kept me from it."
Carl doesn't say anything. Instead, his grip around my shoulders tightens, and he nuzzles his hatless head farther into my hair.
"You're always there to keep me from it." I mutter.
"What do you mean?" He hums.
"Look at you," I start. "You're here—with me—right now." My head slightly shakes back and forth, the resistance of Carl's head resting on mine, not granting my neck its full range of motion. "You made it. We made it through that night. And I don't know what would've happened if it would've been y—"
My words stop. I stop. Everything stops around me. I let myself shrink further into the boy's protective embrace, recognizing how much I selfishly need it.
"If you're saying that you think it should've been you, then you're wr—"
"No." I object. "It's not that. It's just everything."
"I know what you mean."
No he doesn't, I want to say. But, unfortunately, Carl does know what I mean. In one way or another, he knows exactly what I mean, although maybe not in the right words.
Because he does know exactly how I feel, and how I felt that night. As the boy is one of the only other human beings on this earth to have lived through that altering experience alongside me.
"What do you think I mean?" I hum.
"I think that you don't know why you survived, whether you wanted to or not." He starts. "I think that you haven't felt much of anything, since."
"You're wrong."
"How am I wrong?" The boy subtly shakes us back and forth.
"Well—you're not entirely wrong." I start, shrugging however much I can within Carl's tight embrace. "I guess I really don't know know why I made it off that lot. But I do know how."
"And how is that, Megan?" His lovely voice says, right above my ear.
I pull my head from underneath his, looking him in the eye. The blue paradise I finally get to sink into, without the worry of tears. His and my own. "Because you made it, too."
A grimace crosses Carl's face at my rhetoric. He seemlessly lifts his lips to my forehead and plants a long kiss against the skin. "Why don't we talk about something else?"
"Something else?" I start, as he rests his chin on the top of my head. "Like what?"
"I don't know." His head gently shakes back and forth, just atop mine. I hear a hard swallow come from his throat and his voice slightly strains. "I don't know."
At the sound of his weak voice, I pull my head from underneath Carl's chin, and look him in the eye, once again.
"Please don't cry." I hum, bringing my hand to his face, cradling his delicate cheek in my palm, before running my thumb just underneath his watery eye.
Soon enough, tears start to sting at my eyes, as well. Carl sucks in a breath from between his quivering lips, before reaching his arms farther around me and gently pushing my head forward, to where it leans against his. His bandage slightly irritates my forehead, as our noses brush against each other.
We sit in an embrace, locked within the other's touch for quite a few breathy moments. The desperation evident in our shaky demeanors.
"I d—I don't know what I'd do without you." He sighs, his shaky breath landing on my cheek.
"You'd have no one to change all of your old bandages." I mock through my tearful voice, shaking my head.
The boy manages to stifle a broken chuckle. His vibrations racking through my body as he holds me against him. "That's true. No one would be there to pretend that my eye isn't gross." He smugly tries to continue the joke.
However, I don't find this one to be very funny.
"I don't have to pretend, Carl." I hum, bringing my lips to his wet cheek.
My eyes flick up towards his itchy bandage, before I slowly remove my forehead from his. I stick my finger underneath it, right above his ear, before letting it snap back into place. "This thing is making me uncomfortable just by looking at it."
"Yeah, it itches." He starts. "And it chaffs."
"Then why do you wear it?"
"At first—to avoid infection." He says.
I hoist myself up, and swing my leg around to straddle the boy, making it easier to reach my arms around the back of his head. My fingers then fumble about, trying to unfasten the bandage.
"Now, it's just—" Carl starts. "I don't know. It's just something I don't want people to see. It's—"
"Not even me?" I hum, my fingers finally detangling the woven bandage, giving it slack at is unravels from around his head.
The boy places his hands on my sides, leaning his head forward as I finally peel the bandage off. He keeps his head in place, letting me use my thumb to swipe his bangs to the side.
"Is it wrong that I thought you'd scream and run away the first time you saw it?" He chuckles.
"Yeah." I chuckle back, dropping the bandage on the floor, before leaning my forehead back towards his. "Completely wrong."
"Well," A shy smile crosses his face. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you."
As Carl leans his back against the wall, I lean farther into him, settling my legs further down as they continue to straddle his hips.
His arms flex tighter around my body, as the two of us just sit and breathe.
"Megan," He sighs.
"Hm?"
"Megan Carter." I intently listen to the boy as he takes a few breaths in between his shaky words. "Megan Faye Carter."
"That's my name." I start, inching my lips closer to his, my parted mouth overlapping his, just a tiny bit of space keeping it from being an actual kiss. "Don't wear it out."
"I," He starts.
"You what?"
"I—" He starts. "You—You're the only thing I think about." Carl lets out a shaky breath. "First thing when I wake up—last before I fall sleep. Even during my shifts. Even when we were fighting. Even during what happened to Gl—"
His words nearly entrance me. And if they were medicine—a drug—I'd be out like a light.
"It's like," He takes a deep breath, gently releasing it against my cheek. "It's like, in order for me to function, I have to know exactly where you are—what you're doing. That you're safe. And when I don't kn—"
"I'm safe, now." I breathe out, my chest slowly rising and falling. My heartbeat pounds within the confinement of my own chest. My hands remove themselves from around his neck, and trace down his arms. They find and grip his wrists, lightly shaking them as his hands stay still at my waist. "Right here, with you. On the floor, in this empty room." I hum underneath a chuckle.
The boy stifles one breath of a laugh, as his eye flicks down towards my lips.
"What are you doing to me?" The boy shakes his head.
I open my mouth to form a witty response, but nothing comes out. Nothing but a hummed moan as the boy gently connects our lips.
The pressure of the kiss is eager, although his tempo remains slow, as to savor every movement. My hands carry themselves forward towards his waist, slightly scrunching up the fabric of his shirt.
His hands slowly trace down my back, as he begins to pull the back of my top, upward.
Once the shirt wrinkles its way up my torso, and can't be lifted any further, I take it upon myself to quickly disconnect our lips, and pull it the rest of the way, over my head.
Once I shake my messed-up hair back over my shoulders, I plan on returning my lips to Carl's. But instead, I catch his eager eye slowly scanning the front of my bra-less torso.
I let the boy soak it in for a few moments, as I take in the shock as well, from the opposite side of the exposed breasts.
Once his eye makes its way down, and then back up again, Carl gently squeezes onto the skin of my back, and pulls me back down towards him, reconnecting our shy lips. My hair cascades down my shirtless back, creasing a bit at my shoulders.
His lips move from my own, and down to my neck.
The boy raises an arm, and fastens it across my back. He grips just above my shoulder, to stop me from falling as he leans himself forward.
Carl delicately lays me down on the floor, his lips continuing to have a go at the skin of my neck. As my back meets the hard floor, I feel the fabric of his shirt droop down and dangle over my stomach.
My hands soon find their way underneath it, tracing up the skin of his smooth, bare chest. His shirt continues to fold upward, the farther up I move my hands.
As the boy continues to carefully plant slow kisses around my naked collar bone, and his hair continues to tickle at my chest, I take the opportunity to whisper in his ear. "I want it off."
I expect Carl to chuckle at my moment of vulnerability, my embarrassment getting the better of me. But no reaction comes before he jerks himself to hover over me and reaches his arms behind his head, pulling his shirt over it.
His long hair frizzes and and changes direction from its formerly calm state, after the fabric rubs against the back of his head. A slight smile cracks upon my lips, as I prop myself up on my elbows and admire the boy sitting between my thighs.
"What?"
My eyes quickly scan down his body, in a similar way he did to mine. Upon seeing his pale, freckled skin gleaming in the moonlight, I now understand the rush that the boy was feeling, as a result of my newly exposed skin.
A patch of rough, scarred-over skin on his lower abdomen catches my attention. It's a piece of him that he's let me feel before, in such an intimate moment. And it's a piece that I'd like to get to know again.
I tilt my head to the side. "You're just nice to look at. Really nice."
"Shut up." He chuckles.
I lean all of my weight on one elbow, reaching one hand to lightly grip the exposed skin of his upper arm. The boy slowly lowers himself closer, following my lead.
My cheeky smile turns into a stare of awe. "Beautiful, even."
Carl continues to lower his face, as it hovers closer and closer to mine. The shy look caused by my words, is soon replaced with one of a certain desire.
"Missing eye and all." I slowly mutter, my words seemingly lost in translation between our enticed stares.
The boy's face slightly tenses after he hears my words. It may be the discomfort of his eye being fully exposed. Or, I suspect that the boy's just sheepish as a result of never being so directly complimented.
"Absolutely beautiful." I mutter, somewhat feeling hopeless that the boy's lips aren't on mine. And won't be for at least another few moments.
"Quit yapping and just kiss me." Carl says, a sarcastic smile appearing on his face as he begins to lean in.
Although it's the only thing my mind wants, I find a way to pull myself back, and not allow the boy to make the connection. As a bit of a tease and an acknowledgement of his words, I pull my jaw back, tilting my head to the side.
"I'm serious, Carl." The smiles fade from our curious faces. Conversation and banter, being thrown right out of the window.
Leaving me no other choice, the boy leans down, nearly knocking me off of my elbows, as he pins me against the floor. Our lips dance around each other as if this is something we've never done before.
The desperation present in our every, emotion-filled movement.
I feel Carl against me.
I feel Carl against me.
My fingers entangle themselves farther in his hair, as I allow the softness of it to swirl around within my fingertips. The boy's gentle kiss leaves my lips, and slowly makes its way down to the center of my chest. Incredibly slowly.
Although the speed of our movements is a slow, caring melody that fills the void of emotion left by the Saviors, this moment also creates a different void inside me.
A void filled with desire and urgency.
"Hey," I hum.
The distracted boy doesn't hear me.
"Carl?" My voice sounds out a bit louder, just above a breathy moan.
The boy immediately pulls his lips from my chest. The absence of warmth frustrates me with every passing second. "Wh—What? Am I hurting you?"
"No," I chuckle. "I need uh—a favor."
"Right now?"
"Yes, r—"
"Right now? In this moment? You—Megan Carter—need a favor from me?" He asks in disbelief. "Right now?"
"Yes." I start. "Right now, I need a favor from the Carl Grimes." I allow his name to teasingly roll of my tongue.
The boy reluctantly drops and shakes his head of tangled hair, as his forehead briefly rests on my collarbone. "Okay, shoot."
"Could you look in the top drawer, for me?" I point. "And check if the Saviors may have missed something?"
Carl gently sits up, carefully removing himself from between my legs. "What is it?"
"A little blue box."
The boy stands up—at my request—and walks over to the dresser. The tightness from his jeans evident in his stiff stride.
I watch his back muscles flex in the moonlight as he pulls open the top drawer. He doesn't take long to pull something out of it. The box.
The boy turns around, his eyebrows furrow as he studies the label. A cheeky smile spreads across his face, as he begins to chuckle to himself. "Why do you need cond—"
Mid-sentence, his face abruptly softens, before the corners of his lips slowly begin to rise.
"Oh."
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4620 words
A/N
yes, I did have to incognito google images of condom boxes for this.
and yeah, they ARE clapping cheeks, OFF CAMERA
also fun fact: Carl's never read the word "condoms" so he had to sound it out in his brain before he figured out what it was
☆ don't leave a vote if u hate Glaggie ☆