THE GRIMES HOUSE FELT so voided and empty. It had been empty before, plenty of times, but this was different. This was like stepping back into a party where the DJ was just shot. This was dark. The grey countertops and white doors seemed to have dulled since she was last here, and when they arrive, she finds that Judith is already fast asleep in bed. As she walks past the girl's room to go to the bathroom, she's met with a sense of longing for the night before this one. The shared kiss in the hallway, encouraging words from Mich and Rick, the brawl for her keys outside. Of course it had felt too good, too right. Too normal.
She steadily gets herself back downstairs, waiting for Enid to come and clean her cuts. She'd come with them all, on the drive home for this reason only. Jane had let her have her old room, the one that her and Ellie used to stay in. She didn't like going back their either: it reminded her of simple times too, of when Ellie and her still lived here together, before everything seemed to happen all at once.
Bringing some alcohol and cotton pads, Enid dabs them right onto her wounds as they sit down side by side on the couch. Jane winces, especially when it comes to her throat. Her broken nose would have to be looked at by Siddiq, when he had the time and in the meantime she'd wear a large plaster over it.
A few times, Jane's eyes flutter closed, as she's so tired that the pain doesn't even wake her. Fatigue plagues her body as she sits there, though she's not supposed to fall asleep.
She thinks about a lot of things in this time, two of those things being Rick Grimes and Carl Grimes. She was so worried about him. Losing a dad like Rick would change him forever, losing a second parent. And on top of that, he was Rick Grimes, too. She missed him terribly already, his smile, his scolding, the hair ruffles he gave her from time to time.
Carl sat across the room, his arms tied over his knees as he just stares at the floor. He looked so sad he was almost angry.
She watches closely as he reaches into his pocket, playing around with something she can't see. She wonders exactly what it might have been, a trinket of his fathers?
Her hearing's still a little impaired, but with the few hours home the pain had definitely slowed, and if someone was really really close, she could hear them okay.
Silence is all anyone hears as the three of them just sit together, not daring to say anything.
Michonne is upstairs, in her room, and for that Jane feels bad. She probably won't leave till late morning, and probably won't let anyone in either.
Carl makes eye contact with her then, and he looks so different. His eye still twists to pity as he watches her wince at Enid's touch, yet still, there's something changed about him. It's in his pupil, buried deep - something only she might notice.
"You're all cleaned up, wound wise," Enid says with a light smile. Jane nods, putting a comforting hand to her shoulder before getting up to slowly make her way to the bathroom, to shower. Her hair is still caked with blood, dirt and everything else, and her body is a whole other thing.
As she slowly steps up each stair making sure she doesn't fall from lightheadedness, she feels hands hover lightly to her waist. She flinches away even though she knows it's him, something she's never done before.
"Hey, it's okay," Carl whispers, taken aback by her sudden movement. Clearly, he wasn't the only one who had changed.
She makes it to the bathroom, suddenly aware of her body and Carl's presence. Reaching a hand towards the doorknob, she expects Carl to move past her, to lock himself in his room like Michonne had. Instead, he stands and watches as she swings it open, eventually following her in.
"You don't have to." She states, her voice so soft it's almost unreadable.
"But I will. You need help, I need to make sure you don't pass out or something."
She wants to protest, to tell him to get out; he's tired too. But she doesn't quite have the energy, and she could use some extra time with him.
He reaches forward, pushing the shower knob towards him, turning the water on and heating it up.
They get closer, and that's when Jane can really see it. The change. It reminds her of the chilling look he had given her, back when he'd forgotten who he was and who she'd been. Theoretically, yes, he was looking at her as lovingly as he always had, but again - she couldn't shake the piercing image that there was something unknown lurking in his gaze. Something she was yet to find, as she kept on with her days by his side.
He puts his palms to her cheeks, looking down as she looks up. Even her eyelashes were dirty, it seemed - yet she still looked so beautiful, it physically hurt. Tears start to well in her eyes, and she doesn't even try to stop them from spilling over.
"I'm sorry about everything Carl." She tells him. His gaze shifts down to the floor as he realises he doesn't quite have the words to respond. After a quick silence, he speaks out, his breath filled with lies.
"I'm okay."
"But you're not, though, Carl, and that's normal."
He shakes his head, trying to push the conversation in other directions.
"But I need to be there, I need to look after you."
He states, his hands still resting so delicately on her face.
"No, no Carl it's okay. I'm fine," she tries to plaster a smile to her face, now acutely aware that she herself is also lying.
"See, now we're both lying."
"You caught us red handed." She jokes, although she doesn't really feel like making any. To his own surprise, he manages to crack a measly smile at her stupid remark. It fizzles away within seconds, but still, it was a smile.
He brings his fingers down from her face, running them along the hem of her shirt - and she squeezes her eyes tight, bracing herself for something that isn't coming. Another thing she's never done before. More tears come as she keeps her eyes welded closed, yet he simply wipes them away with his thumbs like nothing was the matter.
In truth, he's heartbroken in so many different ways. For one, he missed his father. He was also worried about Jane, her injuries, what might've happened to her that he didn't quite know of yet. Michonne, too: who knows how long she'll exile herself? Another thing was the crushing weight that would be carrying his fathers legacy. How was he going to lead like his father had, so bravely, so selflessly? I wish I had more time, he had thought, not knowing how much he would be yearning for it in the future. Time.
"It's okay, look, open your eyes it's just me," he whispers.
She nods, slowly letting her eyelids rise open. When they do, he reaches for the zip on her hoodie and pulls it down, revealing the torn shirt underneath - still engaging in complete eye contact with her as he does so.
"Did they..." he starts, not able to even finish his sentence as saying it out loud made him want to throw up.
"No," she shakes her head at him, "They were going to, but....." it seems that neither of them can really say it straight up. For a moment, Carl felt so much overwhelming anger that he wished that the men who did this were still alive, so he could hunt them down and murder them brutally himself. She can see this, in his expression: some sort of regret, or guilt for not being there for her.
"It's over now, Carl, and I'm alive. I'm alive."
"You didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve any of this." He tells her, realising his thoughts out loud.
"If anyone didn't deserve anything that happened, it's you. You've been through so much, Carl, and you still care. You care about everyone."
"You do too, you almost sacrificed yourself trying to get the herd away from the camp." Ellie must've heard the horn and told Carl about it. If only I hadn't passed out.
"It was my fault, I could've...I could've stayed conscious and Rick might still be here."
He shook his head vigorously as she seemed to choke over her own words.
"No, no you're not, you tried to save him, you..." he trailed off, realising that talking about his father was much harder than it had seemed when he'd conjured the words up in his head. Trying to keep himself from it all, he forced his mind right back to her in prevention of just breaking down. He carefully rolled up her shirt, lifting it shoved her head as she looked almost shamefully at him.
Reaching her fingers towards his belt, she unbuckled it for him, then unbuttoned his jeans. It wasn't frantic, it wasn't wanted or exciting. Instead, a guttural sadness was evident the moment they had unraveled themselves. His eyes examined her new scars as if they were careful tears strewn upon a tapestry, ripping through perfect intricacy with force. She was so beautiful that it tore him to shreds when any mark stained her skin - not that she looked any less glorious, rather that it represented the hurt that she'd had to push through. He wished that it hadn't been so great - the pain, for either of them. This was only a pipeline dream after all.
The shower was warm, and it took to her skin like butter to bread. She let the water just run right over her head, right down the bridge of her nose just to glide from the tip of her chin to the shower floor.
Carl steps in, his hat resting on the marble counter beside them. He waits until he moves closer to touch her, and this time, it's gradual - he's careful of her fresh and jumpy nature. His hands seem to rest automatically on her shoulders, keeping her steady as if she might topple over at any minute. He slowly turns her as he slips behind her, making it easier to catch her if she really was to fall. Pushing her body back to lean on him entirely, he starts to run his hands all over her, scrubbing dirt and blood from wherever it might be.
Silence passes as she just lets him do this, and when she feels relaxed enough to close her eyes, she almost crumbles under the weight of her own body. The fatigue, the emotion, the pain all catches up to her and Carl needs little to no effort to hold her up steadily, yet he still grasps her with such caring force that her hips might just be purple in the morning. She snaps awake, aware of her mishap - turning to face him, still clasping tightly to his arms.
"You're okay, I've got you," he says, with that calming tone that could make anybody ease up.
She nods, trying to signal to him that she's okay, but his hands won't leave her hips. They just stand, looking into one another's eyes for a moment as the water rains over them: thinking of separate places, different things.
"When we were on the tracks, after the prison," he clears his throat, suddenly stricken with dryness as he breaks the harmony of their wallowing.
"There was a group of men, they...well one of them pinned me down. He got on top of me, shoved my face against the floor and undid his belt. My dad ripped his throat out."
Jane looks to the floor, tears brimming in her eyes at the mention of this incident, Rick, and remnants of her own assault. It hurts deeply to know that Carl went through the same thing she had, and when he was much younger. She'd never known of this, yet it did not shock her; People in this world were cruel, and she'd understood that from the start.
"All I'm saying is, I would've ripped their throats out, if I had been there. I would've done anything to stop it."
"I know," she tells him, quiet and croaky. She had to ease his guilt in some way.
She places her lips on his, trying to calm everything in the only way she knew how. She was displeased to discover that this didn't feel as awarding as it usually did, it didn't feel good. With the kiss of the saviour still lingering on her mouth, Carl's only felt tainted by it's cruelty. A crushing thought fell atop her as she hoped to god it would not always be this way. Tainted.
ENID HAD MADE PANCAKES for all of them, and as Judith happily hummed, shoving forkfuls of maple and Jam into her mouth, everyone stayed silent, just toying with the food on their plates.
Jane didn't even have the energy to feel bad for Enid, Who had spend an hour cooking.
Carl hadn't slept at all last night, and Jane had only got two hours. Bags sat unrestfully under his eyes as he looked down at his fork. Michonne was only present to help Judith eat, though she spoke no words. The table felt so small with Rick's chair empty, and every so often Jane would catch Carl just staring mindlessly over at it.
When the silence got too loud and he couldn't quite take it anymore, he got up and turned his heel toward the doorway - opening the front door and retreating completely from view as it closed.
Jane got up, pushing her chair back with the mere force of her action. Enid puts a hand on her arm, trying to politely pull her back down but she recoils from the girls touch as nicely as she can.
"It's okay, I'll just be a minute." She tells her, before lifting off to follow him.
She eventually finds him in the stables, where he's brushing out star's mane, separating knots as he concentrates on the task hard. He's so deep in thought, he doesn't notice her even come in until she brushes her hand past his shoulder. He almost jumps, but refrains himself as he turns to meet her eyes - so predictable. It wouldn't have been anyone else but her.
"Hey, I just wanted to check up on you," she hums, slightly cautious of what she could say that might upset him. He gives her a glint of a smile before turning his concentration right back to the horse.
Again, she knows his mind is somewhere else. Not here.
"I'm not one to tell you you need to eat, but..you should eat." She tells him, holding out a stolen pancake in her hand, forcing it in his direction.
"I'm going back to the bridge." He tells her solemnly, dismissing the food all together.
"Okay, I'll saddle up Pluto," she says (Pluto being one of the horses in the stable), and he shakes his head.
"Im going alone."
"Are you sure? I can help you, I want to-"
"It's okay. I need to go alone. Im gonna bring his body back so we can bury him."
She just nods, not even trying to stop him because she knows that's the wrong thing to do. He needs this, he needs closure. Though she'd like to help, to find him because if he'd lived, he might've been her father too - she knows that Carl would value the quiet nature of his own thoughts.
"Take as much time as you need. I'll be here when you get back." She had nowhere to go and nowhere to be, so why not stay and wait?
He turns to look at her, his eye colder than she's ever seen it. She places a reassuring hand on his forearm, stroking up and down in smoothing motions as he just stares on deeply through her eyelashes.
Again, as he takes her in - her broken nose, her cut cheeks - he's reminded of the life they might've had, it haunts him. The children they'd never raise, the house they'd never buy. The white dress she would never wear. His fathers smile, one that he will never see again. He has to look away before it consumes him, and Jane, seeing the hurt in his eye, reaches up to press her lips to his cheek - pulling him into a hug by lacing her arm round his neck. They sway there for a minute, Carl letting himself bury his nose in her shoulder before pulling away to leave for two whole days.
He never did find Rick Grimes that day. No one did.
ONE MONTH LATER
The kingdom looked healthier than Jane Peletier had ever seen it. Crops flourished in the heat of the summer, the people were happy. The visit hadn't come as a surprise to her mother, who'd been notified of everything by her daughter already - but was almost sad, as she knew this might be the last time she'd see her in a while.
They all sat around a rectangular dinner table; Ezekiel, Carol, Henry, Daryl, Carl and Jane. They ate in silence, the group of them almost scared of accidentally bringing up Rick in some way.
"Carl? Are you a real cowboy?" Henry asks, with a mouthful of food. Carl chuckles, and Jane just watches their interaction - glad to see Carl smiling.
"Depends what the definition of cowboy is," he explains, "I mean, I guess so?"
"Cowboys shoot guns and wear cool hats. And they ride horses, sometimes. I think."
Carl nods. "Well then I guess I am."
The table falls back to silence as Carl toys with the food on his fork. He hasn't eaten properly in weeks.
The adults make light conversation, as Jane keeps her eyes on her boy. She watches as his face churns. He's thinking hard, staring intently down at the food on his plate. Henry hums happily beside him, like Judith would've. She could tell he missed her already.
After dinner, Carol guided them from the commotion of the people into a hallway separate from the rest of the 'castle'. She gives them a tour of what they haven't seen already, and then, pushes them towards the last room. The room beside her and Ezekiel's.
Jane steps in first, and is taken aback from the sheer brightness of the room. It's painted in beautiful colours - the predominant one being a washed minty green. It's stacked with intricate dark oak furniture, stuff that would've taken months to find and haul back.
Stuffed animals line up against the fluffed pillows of the bed, and posters of things Jane had never heard of adorned the walls. The space has such a comforting feel about it, something that was calling to her. Something inviting and safe.
"I fixed it up for you. If it's too girly for you Carl, i can change it up, I don't mind." She explained, gesturing to the room.
Carl shakes his head, forcing a polite smile.
It's beautiful, and she wants to say it aloud, but one look at Carl's quizzical expression makes the words jump right back into her mouth. The only place she'd ever truly felt safe in was Carl's bedroom. Never her own. She wondered how great that might feel - a safe space, for the two of them.
But she shakes her head, because this isn't the plan. It's not her life.
"You didn't have to, mom."
"My pleasure."
The night pricks on, and as Carl is dragged from the bedroom to the balcony by Henry and his antics, Jane stays back to admire her mothers delicate workings. She starts by running her hands over the countertops, the wall decals, the doorknob. The closet is stacked with beautiful clothes: woven skirts, embroidered blouses. Heeled shoes. It's a dream.
She picks up a bear from the collection and stares at it, the fur feeling so familiar in her palms. The stuffed animal looked similar to the one Sophia used to carry around. Smiles, she used to call it.
"It's yours if you want it. All of it," her mom says from behind, making her jump.
"You did a great job."
"I really thought Carl was gonna suggest something manlier." She chuckles, as Jane sits herself down on the bed. Carol follows in this action, placing a hand on her daughters own.
"Yeah, well, he can deal." She says, smiling at her mother. "Mom," she sighs, "I really wish I could've taken you up on this. But I'm doing what's right, I'm going to atleast try. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'm just going to miss you," Carol tells her.
"I'm so proud of you. This place is always here if you need it."
She can see it now, what she really wants, just out of reach. Her eyes dart from cabinet to cabinet, trying to latch onto something, some reason to stay. Her mom can see right through it, her yearning for something normal. A family.
But she had had one, just a month ago. That's why she was here really, to get it all back together. To find Rick Grimes.
"Thanks mom. But I can't stay." The woman nods, turning her arms in towards her daughter and embracing her in a tight hug.
"I know, hon."
She gets up to leave, smiling as she does so.
"Night, mom." Jane remarks, untucking the quilt from the mattress and rearranging the pillows.
"Good night," she replies, and afterwards is out the door as quick as she had emerged. Jane continues to get ready for sleep, as her mother keeps on down the hall, and almost runs headfirst into Carl as he appears from the dark corridor.
"Oh, I'm sorry Carl, didn't see you," she exclaims, brushing innocent dust from his shoulders as he steadies himself.
"It's okay," he says with light charm, turning to walk away.
"Carl?" She calls, making him stop dead in his tracks.
"What's up?"
She hesitates before deciding to speak.
"Don't die out there. I don't know what Jane would do."
He nods, almost revelling in the moment as they just stare at one another for a moment. Finally, she has her daughters heart in mind.
He retreats back to the room, and when he sees her there, asleep already with the light on - a tightness engulfs his chest. This is the best place for her. She shouldn't be out there, she should be here. Carol knows that. Daryl knows that. And so does he.
The only thing in the way of her and this perfect life is him. He can see it, the way she wants it, but he's keeping her from that. And so, it begins. Their new life starts tomorrow, and he wants it to end already.
GUYS SORRY IF THIS SEEMS RUSHED IDK I JUST WANTED TP GET IT OUT
Going to see the 1975 in Glasgow tn pray for me🙏🙏🙏