hilltop
Icy breaths suffocated the room in civility. She lay on the floor, with everyone else, in the Barron house with nothing but a sleeping bag to halt the freeze. All the others seemed to have fallen into sleep easily, but Jane stayed awake once again - spinning a coin between two fingers.
Her, Ellie and Siddiq had been sitting in that room for around an hour when Rick and the others finally came to get them. Jane hadn't liked the idea of sleeping in here, away from Carl, but she didn't pry as they needed all the space they could get in the infirmary. Selfish it would be, to take a spot from someone who might need it.
Her eyes stayed trained on the coin, watching it spin and twist on her hands, when she stopped to admire it in it's copper like humanness.
Caressing one thumb over the side with a portrait engraved, she thought about how strange of a concept money really was. I mean, it made sense, yes, but she could never imagine going back to a world where she should worry about income or even getting a job. She shivered at the thought of being behind a counter, dealing with people that didn't care for you from 9 till 5. Everyday, all day.
But again, that would be better than this.
Light voices entered the room swiftly: likely the sounds of Rick, Daryl and Maggie's complex decision making. They'd opted Jane out of all of it, even though she'd insisted on helping. They told her they were worried about her, which was all true but they avoided trying to explain to her that she got very impulsive when emotional - and a few people end up way more than hurt at the end of the day, and that that was their main concern after her well-being.
They didn't know what might happen if she saw Negan's face. She'd already tried to kill him a few times before, but....this was different. Rick could feel the revenge fizzling up in his head, and he couldn't imagine what Jane was planning. What she might do.
What he didn't know, was that she'd seen him that night, and that he was the reason carl was alive. Although, he was also the cause of this whole situation and the source of all of their problems like ever - so it could be argued that this singular deed did not quite push him as far into the light as he had hoped.
In fullness, Jane hadn't quite realised her feelings. She was angry, yes, but she suspected the full on rage was to appear further on down the line when the depression and hopelessness calmed a little.
Ellie slept soundly beside her, alongside Enid, Tonya, and max. Jane liked to just watch her breathe in and out, in and out, because it was stable and guaranteed and comforting if you wanted to put it that way.
Her rocky sleep (once she had managed to attain it) had teased her with the image of carl once again, the same as ever. She tossed and flailed under the thin tart fabric, trying to get comfortable but he didn't want to leave her be. She dreaded the idea of this being her singular future: the legacy of loneliness, and yearning - the punishment that would chain her to the earth, waiting permanently for him. Her life without Carl.
"I love you," he would tell her. then he would slip away.
Even though she had awoken several times in a span of two hours, it was the best sleep she'd had in days. So good, that she feared she wouldn't be able to lift her head from her makeshift pillow (a folded t-shirt) at the wake.
But she was wrong.
A soft groaning noise had erupted at the left side of the hall. Footsteps, too - slow, uneven and scuffling. People, injured people, were opening their eyes. Yet, they did not take a life-filled breath. The unfortunate reality of this situation was the fact that there was no scream to wake them. No sign of alarm, no apparent struggle. But people were dying - and fast at that.
One prominent thing about walkers, was that they smelled particularly rotten. This was the solemn factor that officially woke her. For the first minute of her rise, her brain appeared foggy and unregistered - nothing around her seemed to set in yet, perhaps because she hadn't quite realised anything was off. Then, she took a breath in and shot up. She could recognise that stench anywhere.
She thought about calling out for Ellie, but that was too risky. They'd hear it, no doubt, and so she stayed as still as possible, knowing that this would not hold out for long.
A great number of undead had risen already, and she wasn't sure where any had came from. It just didn't make sense, sure - if someone had died then they would've turned, but how could one walker turn this many this fast? And surely, if it had bitten into multiple people, she or someone else would've heard the screams? there weren't many hilltop residents actually injured, either. Most of those resided in the infirmary.
Then, a gasp flew from her mouth before her hand could clamp it down. Carl was in the infirmary.
She had no weapons, not even a sharp object or a rock to throw, but they were clambering toward her with no remorse. She was more worried for the others, who were still asleep and so she frantically woke them, shaking their shoulders and startling them. They gasped and froze just as she had, and max, regrettably, screamed. This was especially bad as now they'd all heard it: fresh meat, right this way.
"Use your sleeping bags! block their faces!" jane ordered, not staying to watch them all scramble up as she pushed herself toward the nearest walker, fabric in hand. It moaned at her, mouth open, arms outreached. In the shadowy light, it looked utterly terrifying, but she drowned the thing in cloth before it could root any fear back at her.
It gargled and tried to defy her as it died, suffocating chaotically before Jane sent her fist continually through it's skull. Unfortunately it seemed that no other person had survived the outbreak, because only her and her girls were standing. That just meant that there would be much more (and much worse) to come.
She didn't pay much attention to the girls after that, as more and more began to file towards her. with her main weapon gone and no other to fulfil it's place, she felt utterly hopeless. She'd left her bow back down at the infirmary, where she hoped some survivor was using it to protect Carl. She hoped to god Siddiq was okay, too - not just because he could save carl, but also because she'd grown fond of him these last few days.
The growling continued as she wrapped her fingers around another's neck, pushing it down to the floor and, when it hit, squeezed her boot into it's mouth and crushed it's face back into itself. With no time to celebrate, she battled with the next one, then the next, so on and so forth. When she'd started to lose her breath, she spun on the spot to see what the crowd was looking like, and wished she hadn't. Completely surrounded, she had no time to be scared as any one move could have her dead in a minute.
Hands came from everywhere, everyplace. One grabby pair flung towards her, hitting her and knocking her down. She fell to the floor, sending creaks of pain through her knees and forcing her back there - coveted by car headlights that shone iridescently through the fog. Negan was swinging the bat in-front of her, it was red, oh god it was Abraham's, it was his blood, and his skin-
Gunshots made her ears bleed as their ricocheted around the room. Her hands flew up to the hot blood and her eyes squeezed shut.
When she finally opened them, she felt a twinge of embarrassment at her own cowardliness. Someone touched her shoulder gently, and she grimaced, before shaking them off and standing up. This was another grave mistake as she felt enriched with dizzy-ness, and she stumbled a little, before catching herself on one of the wooden beams that grew from the floor to the roof.
"Why do you let your dad be so mean?" carl asked, curious about the fallout from earlier at the quarry. They were sitting by the fire, sharing beans from a can, alone.
"I told you I didn't feel like talk," she snapped at the young boy. she wasn't always so mean, but he recoiled from the question, because clearly she was just on edge from watching Shane beat up her father.
She took a deep breath, hesitating. "I can't do anything about it. Would your dad listen to you if you asked him not to do something?" There was no doubt that there was a definite maturity to her voice that overcame Carl's childish demeanour. In all other times, he'd known himself as stronger than her, or maybe less scared. But when talking about her father, she appeared to be confident in his routine for violence. She knew the ins and outs of his attacks so well that she had learned how to avoid them.
He thought for a moment. "Maybe."
She looked at him, and for some unworldly reason, a small smile played on her lips for just a moment. "These beans taste like crap," she mentioned, breaking the small silence and earning a nod of agreement from carl.
"At least we have food," he added, and she couldn't help but feel stupid for her remark. Another stylish silence ensued, before carl chirped up again.
"I think we should be friends," he said, trying to look more appealing to her, "because we'll probably have to spend more time together later." this was true, it seemed. They'd already been lumped together enough, because of their comparison in ages.
"So......what's your favourite colour?" he asked eagerly.
"Well now you've stepped over the line." She answered, and this time, he laughed, and her ears were surprised to note that it was a nice sound. a sweet, innocent one. "Purple. It's purple."
"I could've guessed, I think," he pointed at her purple t-shirt, and the purple clips in her hair. He was still giggling a little, and she felt herself joining in too.
"What about you? Green?" he shook his head.
"Pink." he corrected, and she smiled in disbelief. Every boy she'd ever met had cowered away from the colour, claiming weakness upon it. It was a nice change. She wanted to ask him why, to delve deeper, but she was interrupted by a girlish, blood-spilling scream. Carl immediately stood, placing himself between the sound and her. She shamelessly hid behind him, somehow feeling safe as she watched a trail of walkers advance through the woods, toward the campsite.
She held the banister concretely, stabilizing herself as she looked out on the pile of dead walkers, laying where she had been around a minute ago. Michonne held her shoulders and pushed the hair from her face as she let go of the beam of wood.
"Jane?" the woman asked. Jane tried her best to seem completely aware, but it was obvious she'd had some sort of episode.
She looked past Michonne to see the four girls unharmed, looking worried and a bit tired at that. She was glad they were okay, and made sure to know so before asking about anyone else.
"Where's Rick? The infirmary-"
"He's gone down already. Siddiq is okay. Carl is okay, thanks to him, and you in a way. the only weapon left down there was your bow." she cupped her hands to her face in relief, exhaling out. Michonne let go of her, letting her move on to hug the girls she'd fought alongside. Max was crying, and a strange reflection was made between the two of them. Max reminded her of her younger self: helpless, scared, wronged.
Tonya held her little sister close, cradling her against her waist. Jane wanted to say something to them, sorry, maybe? she couldn't think of what. Sorry wouldn't cut it. They could've died because of her little freak out. Thankfully, she didn't really need to talk, because that was when Maggie, Daryl and Rosita came cascading in. They must have been sleeping in one of the trailers.
Maggie and Rosita gave her quick reassuring looks before heading to talk to Michonne, but Daryl came towards her directly, pulling her into a hug. This wasn't unusual if you recognised it in the last few days, but it was certainly strange for either of them to be showing so much affection. Still, she accepted the hug as something she needed, burying her face in his leather vest.
"There's still a few stragglers wanderin' aroun'. What do ya say?" he held out a shiv and placed it in her open palm before gesturing her to follow him out the large barren doors. It was nice to be out of that house and into air that didn't smell so foul. They wandered around hilltop, killing walkers that had gone loose (if you could even call it that). Silhouettes from the infirmary sat dormant at the window, and Jane found that she couldn't take her eyes off the building. She had to physically refrain from just running in to see carl and rick, and it proved difficult at times when they got so close.
"He's okay, kid, Rick's with him," Daryl said, when he had noticed her staring back at the porch with alarm. "I swear the both of you jus' spend your life worryin' about each other."
She said nothing.
"I don't know a lot of things but I do know Carl. I know he's a tough kid."
She knew that. Of course she knew that.
"Daryl?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you ever see it? when you kneel down, or when you smell gas, or see fog?"
He nodded. No need to explain further. He knew exactly what she was talking about.
"I aint gon' tell ya it gets better. Cause i'm not sure it does." he looked at her with sympathy, but more so understanding above all. Her episode-like flashbacks were going to be a problem if they kept consistent. She understood his statement clearly, but she knew already that this was always going to be. The war, even if it did stop - she'd still be fighting it - chained to it. shackled.
"Those braids look pretty on you," he complemented out of the blue, trying to lighten the mood. He was thrilled to know he did as a smile cracked upon her face.
"They look 'pretty' on me?" she said, with a mocking tone and a slight chuckle. He laughed right back at her, just happy to see her smile.
"I have never, ever heard you say 'pretty' before."
"What, you think I don' have charm? cause I can do charm."
"That's what you were trying to do? 'charm' me?" she had to contain herself from fits of laughter.
"Naw, nah - I didn't mean it like that, c'mon now," he scorned, but a hint of a smile still played at his lips.
The day cleared, and she found herself back in the infirmary. Daryl had been needed for something important, so Jane had no restraint from the place. when she opened the door, she immediately recognised a shift in the air. it felt solemn, and eerily quiet. A simple hello welcomed her in, though not nicely.
"It's Jane," she croaked, clicking the door shut behind her.
"Oh, good." Said Siddiq, supposedly coming out of nowhere and placing his arms around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. She hugged him back, with no hesitation.
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" She asked, Patting him on the back before letting go.
"I'm fine, Carl's fine. Just happy to see you, is all. Thanks for the bow, by the way," he smiled.
"No, thank you for using it." Her lips were so cracked and scabbed, but she didn't mind grinning widely at him - though it hurt.
"Ricks in there. He's not said a word, since this morning I think."
"I'll see what I can do," she replied, faking a smile this time. She realised then, that her and Rick were so similar. Shutting off when people needed them the most, snapping and yelling at the people they loved when things didn't go the way they were planned.
Opening the door the tiniest bit, she saw him sitting there, wrapping gauze around his dry knuckles.
"Rick?" She announced, before stepping into the room fully. He didn't even turn his head, or try to acknowledge her in any way. She decided not to take it to heart.
A long silence ensued as Jane pulled up a chair on the other side of Carl's bed. Laying her head down to rest on the side of his mattress, she wished to finally disappear into nothing but a bad dream. This was when Rick finally raised his head, watching her pinkie finger tap the fabric of Carl's sheet once every so often.
All he could think about was how badly he wanted something different for the both of them. Jane had never been his child but he had grown to love her, in his own way. Carl had really helped him see it, how loveable this girl really was. He knew she didn't believe it, that she could be cared for so distinctly by anyone other than his son, he saw the look of surprise on her face when anyone showed up for her. He saw her gratitude, for this world, though it had only done her wrong.
He wished everyday that he had the power to stop it, to stop it for all three of his children. He hoped that the decay would not root into Judith, that instead she would grow to be loved by everyone and surrounded by people that were guaranteed to stay. Jane never had that. Carl did - he'd always had his dad, but he'd lost a great deal too, and now look at him - hurt because his father wasn't there to save him.
Rick couldn't shift the guilt. No matter how hard he would try, he could never get over his sons death. Never. Carl wasn't dead yet, but he was almost there, and Rick was already feeling the withdrawals. He could never forgive himself for not being there.
"Hey!" A shout woke the both of them up swiftly, and as soon as their vision registered they recognised it was much darker than it had been when they had drifted off. The sound was coming from Maggie, who had started off with a soft 'hello', then a little louder with a 'wake up' and then to full fledged yelling.
Jane felt a little disorientated. Falling asleep beside Carl (again) was not actually her intent this time. If she could recall correctly, it was to reassure Rick - but she remembered stepping into the room, laying eyes on him and knowing she couldn't do that.
She dreamt only of blankness this time, which was a nice change from all the other things that plagued her at night. Though, she found that she'd been enjoying the dreams where Carl was alive and well a lot more than she'd imagined, for she felt saddened that he did not appear to her when she closed her eyes.
The next three days whistled by through the wind, unbeknownst to Jane. She'd sneak out to hunt in the morning, maybe say hello to Ellie or Daryl, ask him what her mother was doing. Then she'd go back to Carl: she would eat there, sleep there, maybe even die there one of these days.
He never even stirred. Not even a twitch, or a scrunch of the nose, or a flutter of eyelashes.
Ever since that day that they'd fallen asleep together, beside him, she hadn't seen much of Rick Grimes. She felt almost guilty, or maybe left out - that he was away, fighting the wars whilst she was almost as bed-ridden as her boyfriend. She wasn't stupid. She knew what he was doing out there. She only wished she could join him in that.
She felt impeccably weak, decaying next to him, not able to move a muscle. Truthfully, it wasn't like her to sit and do nothing for anyone: she'd always been avenging someone or protecting someone. What was there to do with this?
"Jane." Michonne's voice carried through the hollow room perfectly. Without hesitation, the girl rose from her seat, hoping for some sort of instruction or order to go and fight.
She followed Michonne from the room and out into the narrow, medicinal smelling hallway. She expected Michonne to stop and wait, but she didn't - she continued on throughout the trailer and into the sun behind the front door.
Jane's eyes squinted and reared as she tilted her head upwards. A rush of light warmed her face, and a touch of wind brushed loose strands of hair from her braids to her face.
A figure was sprinting toward her, and without even having to concentrate, she knew exactly who it was.
"Mom," she said, outstretching her arms and engulfing herself in her mother's earthy scent. Carol swayed her daughter from side to side as they embraced, bringing her finger to comb the free hair behind Jane's ears.
"I'm sorry, honey," Carol hushed.
"Where were you?" She asked wearily, with blurry eyes.
"I was at the kingdom. I got caught up in a fight I wasn't supposed to......I couldn't just leave them."
Jane agreed, nodding slowly and sniffling as she tried not to cry. God she hated crying infront of people, but in these last few days she'd done so numerous times. She wouldn't do it now, not anymore. If she told herself not to, surely her mind would listen, right?
Carol had brought cans of beans, fresh cabbage from the kingdom and a few carrots (which they never ended up touching because a few was not nearly enough for everyone) which made a sparse stew, but it was something. The game Jane had brought in from her previous hunts were small too - three rabbits, two squirrels and one pheasant.
Carol had also brought something else along with her. Following in her suit was king Ezekiel (who insisted he was royalty no more - disappointing Jane greatly as she'd found it quite amusing to call him 'your majesty') and the young boy she had met a few weeks ago when the group had visited.
He was fuller then, maybe a little shorter - whereas now, he looked stalk-ish and pale, with heavy bags circling below his eyes. Something had happened to him since they last spoke, as it was bound to. As it had to everyone.
"Hey, kid," she managed to muster, holding out her hand to shake his. He took it hesitantly, as if he was scared of her. It felt strange, saying this to someone else as it was what she had been referred to her whole life.
Ezekiel gave her a faithful pat on the back, which surprised her as she'd never really spoken to him in full. Maybe Carol had said something to him?
They sat down in what once was Gregory's office eating out of cans with rusted forks and Knives. It was the most decent meal she'd had in weeks, as living off stale crackers and dry pasta hadn't served her much well-being. Still, it didn't taste nice.
She wouldn't have even eaten it if Carol hadn't forced her to, or left Carl if Carol hadn't forced that too.
Jane was silent as the three of them talked, chewing for what felt like hours on cabbage leaves and tomato syrup. Once Carol had finished eating, she set her can aside to open her satchel bag, pulling out a shirt of pure white cotton.
"Benjamin embroidered it. I thought you'd like it," the young boy seemed to shift his gaze from Carol uncomfortably at the name. Ah. That was what happened.
She remembered Benjamin briefly from that day too, but couldn't say she recalled anything he had said to her. Give it a few hours and it'd come back to her.
Carol slinked the shirt from her fingers to Jane's lap, as she just stared at it. It was beautiful, the stitching was intricate and perfect. Roses of different colours lined the sleeves and the hem of the shirt, and blue lace stemmed from the v-neck that would hang neatly from her collarbone when she would try it on.
She didn't though - instead folding it up neatly and hugging it close to her chest.
"Thank you, mom." She said, upturning the corners of her mouth into what could've been mistaken as a smile.
"Ow," Henry winced, prying his finger away from the can. It appeared he had nipped himself on a sharp edge, and the cut was sprouting fresh blood quickly.
Carol thought nothing of it, Ezekiel never noticed and continued eating his bean mixture, but Jane turned to him sympathetically and raised her hand to examine the cut.
"Do you want a plaster?" It had cut deep, and she could see tears welling in his eyes. She suspected it wasn't just the laceration that had made him cry, but something much larger that had disturbed him since Carol brought out her gift.
He didn't say anything, trying to push down the lump in his throat. Without thinking, she outstretched her hand to take his.
"Here, I'll fix it up for you." She lulled, smiling softly at him. She was just trying to make him feel better, but the grin was real. He took her hand, following her intently out of the room and down the stairs. They avoided the main foyer, as blood still stained the panels on the floor and Jane didn't want to relive any moments from her last Walker encounter.
They promptly made it past and out the main doors, still holding hands.
"Careful, it's still slippy from the snow." He still said nothing, however she did not blame him. She remembered how it felt losing Sophia. How it still feels. How it felt to slowly lose Carl.
"You like snow?" She asked, and if he did not answer, she swore it would be her last attempt at conversation.
"Yeah. Me and my dad used to sledge when I was little." He said, somewhat steadily but there was a slight wave to his tone.
"I never cared for it. Carl loves it though." She realised she'd spoken about him like he was up and well, like she'd forgotten he was here and asleep rather than back at Alexandria, awaiting her return. A sour taste arose in her mouth as she had said his name so innocently, so accidentally - and she had to move on quickly, afraid she might vomit.
They got inside without one more word, and Jane hung up her coat on the rack in the porch, encouraging Henry to do so also. She glanced to her left. Carl's door. It glared at her as she glared back, only snapping out of it when Henry tugged on the hem of her zip up. I'm going insane, she thought loudly.
She took a swift right to the kitchen, where all the cupboards were. Tapping on the countertop beside her, she gestured for him to sit, which he did immediately. It took a few minutes to rake around and find the plasters, and when she did, she realised they were kiddie ones - they probably had been here since before the outbreak.
"Hey, kid? What do you like more, cows or tigers?"
"Tigers definitely. Like shiva." That's right, there had been a tiger. How had she forgotten. And, where was it now? Had Ezekiel left it home alone? Surely not.
"Well, you're in luck because there's just one tiger left. Give me your finger." He wasn't a small kid: maybe 11 or so. Still young, but definitely too cool for tiger plasters. They sat in silence until Jane managed to wrap his finger up tight, patting his palm in victory when she finished.
She waited a little to talk again, because she wanted to get what she was trying to say right.
"I had a sister." She blurted.
"Had?" He asked, feverishly.
"She went missing. She turned." He nodded silently.
"It's hard. It's really really hard. But it will get better." Will it?
"Everyone keeps telling me that." He sniffed.
She paused. "She ran. I could've chased her, I could've - but I stayed put. Rick went after her, told her to stay. She was bitten. She wandered to an old farm and got caught in some old barn near a group of survivors. We met them, because, Carl got shot - that's another story - and then we found out she was in there the whole time and they knew. We'd been looking for weeks."
He sighed. "My brother was shot in the leg. By a saviour. He was just trying to help."
Jane nodded.
"I'm going to be just like him one day. Brave. Strong."
"You already are," she replied, watching as a tear fell from his eye to the floor. He didn't acknowledge it, instead he hopped from the counter and raced to grab his jacket, almost slipping on the polished concrete beneath them.
Then: a flash of a voice emerged from what seemed to be Carl's door. She turned to Henry, pivoting on the spot to face him.
"You know your way back, yes?" He nodded, and before she could say anything more he was out the door. The anticipation in her body rose as she neared the door handle. She reached out to touch it as the voices got louder.
The door opened with a satisfying click, and Jane was engulfed in noise. Then, relief washed over her body as she saw Carl grimes sitting almost upright in his rickety old bed. She had only felt a feeling so great once: when she saw him again for the first time in two years. Cupping one hand over her mouth, she said his name, gently as needed. Rick, Daryl and siddiq surrounded him, but she didn't pay any attention to any of them as she looked Carl in the eye.
It was done, it was over. They could live their happy life now, they could do anything. She could do anything. Carl was alive, and awake, and looking at her. He was finally looking at her. She would be able to tell him everything she couldn't before, she could say sorry, she could marry him or something. She could, because he was here, he was really awake. She smiled wide in disbelief as tears came down for him. They always did, didn't they? Especially when she was trying her hardest to hold them back.
He looked shocked. Confused, even? He seemed ill - malnourished and sickly pale. She felt her organs twist a little when his lips didn't crack into any sort of smile. He just gawked at her, like he didn't know who she was. Raising her hand to his arm, she got close enough to touch him. When their skin brushed, the feeling was chilling, and almost wrong. It felt unnatural, it felt too raw. She gasped, taken aback by this newfound ravine between them. She could feel it - the essence of him gone. She searched, unable to find him behind his own blue eye - and knew this wasn't going to be as easy as she thought.
And then, he lunged for her, flinging out of his bed and issuing all his strength into his hands - clasping them around her neck and slamming her to the glass cabinet on the wall. It cascaded into beautiful glitter, chipping into her skin as it fell around her. She fell to the ground, him still clutching her with his cold hands and blocking her airways. She struggled underneath him, trying to pry his hands away as Rick and Daryl searched for something frantically.
His eyes changed for a second, from malice and intent to fear and maybe sorrow, before changing right back. His mouth curved down into a terrifying frown and he looked angrier than she'd ever seen him. The veins in his eyes cut deep, seeping crimson. He looked so ready to kill her, like he'd been waiting to do it forever. Maybe if she didn't love him so much, she would've fought back before she passed out, but she did not want to hurt him. She could never do that.
He had always been strong: she'd even watched him kill before but, this was different. He had never, ever, used that sort of strength against her. The last thing she saw before closing her eyes was Daryl plunging a syringe into Carl's neck, causing him to scream out in pain, which fortunately she did not hear, as she was already far past consciousness.
-
it's my birthday next week yipeeee!!!!
also new era of clm starts soon. Are you guys excited bc i defo am, so excited to write the upcoming chapters, it feels like carls been asleep for like months atp 😭😭
Love u all sm for reading this. I say that every chap but cmon you know it's true