THERE WAS ONCE A time when Jane Peletier might have counted the scars on Carl Grimes' back as art. She might have gently brushed back his hair from his eye, or taken care of him in any way that he might see fit. She used to think of peace, when she thought of that boy, but now, all she could remember was the smell of burning bodies and the sounds of chamber clicks. She saw war, when she saw his face.
And she did see it, every night. When he would take the form he once did: kind, gentle, nurturing. But sometimes, all that would come back to her was his face the last time she saw it. All this time wasted believing he was the one true golden soul: a flower risen from frozen ground, a caterpillar that had gained wings in air filled with ash.
She reminisced their time spent dwelling in meadows, but then she would remember what almost always happened next: blood spills, glaring teeth and sharp jaws. Often times, she'd have dreams about flower stems that seemed to flow naturally into streams of red that stained wooden porches and concrete roads alike. Afterwards, she'd wake wondering if she'd been born a baby at all, or rather an embodiment of her mothers pain that had just happened to slightly resemble a human.
Despite what she'd thought, it did get a little easier. She grew her hair long and brushed it out everyday. She collected skirts of all fabrics, ones that went down to her ankles or her calves and swung from her hips. She wore heeled boots, embroidered with illustrations of delicate pansies and rose bushes. She forced her nose into seas of literature, she watched movies with Henry every Sunday. She danced. Strummed. Laughed.
But none of it would suffice any good reason to push Carl Grimes, or any of the bad things that had happened, outside her mind. Three years after she'd spoken a word to him, yet it felt like yesterday he had yelled and scathed and looked so horrifically mad. She could remember it like it was so.
LIGHT SHONE FROM EACH and every window and as he started to hear faint whispers of music, he received an itching feeling that this was not one of his actually good ideas. He should always listen to Daryl, he'd always known so, but never obeyed the rule. And every time he'd made a new, grave mistake, he'd found himself wishing he'd just taken the old man's advice instead.
He snaked his right hand up to brush his hair behind his ear, but was quick to recall that there was no hair to brush back: it had been mercilessly chopped off as soon as he arrived here. He was left with a decent amount; he wasn't bald or anything, it had just been a shock to feel it break off between his fingers after so long.
"Damnit Daryl," he sighs under his breath. He'd come to do just about everything with Daryl. I mean, he'd spent about three years with the guy alone. Who'd have thought. Yet, here he was without him.
The hilltop was bigger than it had been when Carl had last visited. There were certainly more people, that was for sure, and the farms out front were thriving well. They expanded the land by a whole lot, but if you think about it, hilltop isn't big if you're considering actual living space.
He could see it, the life his dad wanted for everyone. He used to think that as long as Negan was locked up, everything would be fixed, but he realised a long time ago that there was upkeep to manage. Everyone needed him, to be the leader. They needed him to guide them, to make plans, to unite communities. Carl could've stepped up and taken his dad's role, but he chose not to - and only now is he realising that he regretted that. He didn't regret going out to look for his dad, but it's been three years.....he'd never ever give up hope, but at some point, he had started to doubt if it was all worth it. Jane. Leaving everything behind, including Judith. Michonne. The ones he loved.
They would just stop off here and be back on their way, and so he decided to try and push this all away for now. He wouldn't have to see Jane, or Judith, or even Michonne and they did not have to know he was here. Just one harmless night. They all lived elsewhere, also. There would be no crossover, or atleast, not one that he would be expecting. It was just hard, when everything reminded him of them, or even his dad.
Still, he decided to brave it. Just for tonight.
"No one gon' see ya if you hide in the crowd," Daryl added, trying his hardest to pry the cap of a beer off.
"What's the point?" Carl replies, as he strings some twine around another arrow. They'd run out of ammo long ago.
"Reconnect with people, ion know. Maggies gone, so who you really gotta worry bout meetin?"
"No one, I guess."
He passed by the old infirmary - now new housing for residents - and shivered a little. He didn't like going in there, after everything. Jane didn't like it either, she never went in. Or maybe she had, since then. There was no way to know.
Sometimes he still forgot that he had let her go; he'd make a mental note to tell her something, or he'd clutch the strung penny round his neck and truly believe that when he opened his eyes she'd be there staring back at him. He could still tell anyone that'd care to know her exact eye colour, where the freckles sat on her face, the pressure of her kiss.
Three years of remembrance and he'd never been granted the solitude of forgetting.
"You gonna go in or what?" Some guy asks, reaching for the door handle.
"Oh-uhm, yeah. Thanks." He awkwardly fumbles over his words, but this man seems to know a little sympathy as he shares a smile with Carl.
"I haven't seen ya round here before, are you new?"
Carl hesitates. "You could say that. I'm just passing through."
"Well, you're welcome to hang with me and my guys." He says, pushing the double doors open. They're immediately engulfed in music and warmth, and the scene of so many people together hits him hard. He hadn't seen anything like this in years and years. Jane would've loved this. He thinks to himself, and then curses silently as he's trying to remind himself not to think about her: agony is all that follows her name now.
People in the middle of the floor dance with their arms around one another. Some kiss, some just embrace joyfully. Apparently, he's unknowingly glaring at them, as the guy beside him decides to bring attention to it.
"Hey, you alright? You know any of em?"
"No, no I don't. Just confused for a sec. Sorry."
"No need for sorrys, man, we're here to have fun! These are the guys, mike, John, and Sean."
"Carl." He replies, unable to think of anything else to say.
"Nice to meet you, kid. What are you, like 20?" Mikey asks. He has a long, greying beard, a little reminiscent of his fathers. The others look younger, but not by much.
"21." He replies, and they all raise their eyebrows.
"Damn, you're just a boy. How old were you when all this shit happened?" Sean asks.
Again, he didn't quite know what to say to this. Eleven was the age he was when the world had went through it. But he could think of so many other ages when 'shit happened'.
"Eleven."
They all huff in unison, trying to display their pity towards Carl in a sensible way, but they're all a bit drunk already. Suddenly, a mic sound screeches over the audience and Carl claps his hands up to cover his ears. Everyone else stays stationary, as they've been to enough of these things to expect it.
Then, a young girl walks out onto the Barron house's makeshift stage. From where Carl is standing (at the wall on the other side of the giant room) he can see ribbons of red hair and a flown skirt, but he's too far to make her out. Then, she starts to speak. And Carl Grimes knows exactly who she is.
"Alright, y'all know how this works by now, but for the newcomers: my friends," she points at a small crowd down by her feet, and a few hands go up in the air, "and some fellas round the sides of the room, hi, I'm max, and I have a few songs to sing."
The crowd cheers, clearly accustomed to her greeting. Carl stays silent, squinting his eyes toward the small crowd and wondering if Enid, Ellie or Tonya were any of those friends she had mentioned. Unfortunately, he couldn't see from here, as the only light in the room was pointed at her.
"I'd like to say thank you all for comin'. We got some special requests tonight so here's hoping you'll enjoy it. And please, dance your shoes off."
She's quite a character now, though you could argue that she had been when she was younger. Carl and her would sit and play cards together for hours, oh, what a time. The mention of her name aches a little, and seeing her face hurts too. She's a living embodiment of what he left behind. Soon, that spreads to every person in this room as he looks around at their smiles and their interlocked hands.
The main lights go on as max introduces her first song. It's a catchy tune, and she strums it so faithfully on her guitar that he's almost convinced it's her making the noises, not the instrument. She starts to sing; her voice a little raspy and high, but still nice to hear. It makes him a little sad that her talent is wasted on this world.
The crowd hasn't quite warmed up yet, and only a few dancers stumble out onto the floor. Mostly couples, once again. Gross. If he had taken one thing from tonight, it was that he hated seeing other couples happy.
"Romance not treating you so good?" Mike asks as he reads Carl's unamused expression.
"Guess not." He scoffs. He appreciated the man's offer, but he'd rather have not taken it now. They were clearly drunk, and, as so were very invasive. Not what he needed.
"Don't worry bout it bud. You'll find the right one. Especially with that cool ass scar." He points to Carl's eye. He hadn't bothered to cover it, instead his hair fell just about over it so that it was still visible, but not really from afar. He feared a bandage or a hat might draw some attention to himself - something he didn't want at all.
"Thanks," he remarks, completely over the conversation already.
The next song starts, and more people divert to the dance floor. I don't know why I came.
"Hey, that girl, she the one that used to live in Alexandria?" Sean points his finger towards the middle of the crowd. Carl's heart starts to beat and his eye immediately follows Sean's direction. It could be anyone. Maybe someone he's never met.
No. There's no way.
Then, his heart stops. Because buried in beautiful brown locks of hair and pointy cowboy boots, stands Jane Peletier.
"Yeah, she moved to the Kingdom. Apparently she went out to look for the guy, uhm, what's his name, shit I forgot. The leader guy." Mike harps on.
"Rick Grimes." Carl states mindlessly as he stands there, unable to move. She's got a skirt on, that hangs just a over her ankles, and a long sleeved shirt embroidered with little flowers on it. Her hair had been brushed back neatly, but it still flew all around her as she twirled around to the sound of max's voice. She placed her hands on a boy's shoulders - a boy that he recognised as Henry Peletier.
"Yeah Rick. But anyway, she broke up with her boyfriend, and then came back. Not very determined if you ask me."
Carl couldn't say or do anything as he watched her feet move to the beat, her smiling and laughing as Henry got the steps wrong. No, he hadn't agreed to see her face again, he hadn't wanted to, he couldn't. It hurt too much and he couldn't contain it, not this time. Pushing himself away was easiest when he couldn't see her face, what she looked like now....and suddenly he couldn't stop imagining himself dancing with her. If it had been different. If he hadn't destroyed them.
A single tear dropped from his eye, and he was quick to wipe it away. It was selfish to be sad, it was a horrid thing to be, because she was happy. That was what he wanted, wasn't it?
Selfish. You're selfish. He couldn't stop repeating it, not unless he imagined them dancing together again. Fuck, was it getting stuffy in here? He couldn't quite seem to breathe, he couldn't take it, he needed air, or he was going to faint. But again, he can't seem to move, he's just standing there, staring at her.
Oh fuck. She's staring back.
Her grip loosens on Henry's shoulder, as she tries to convince herself it's not him. But, who is she kidding, she'd know his face anywhere. That's how she spotted it, lurking in the crowd like it meant nothing. She felt bile coming up in her throat, and she knew nothing was going to come up, but she still clamped a hand over her mouth as her eyes continued to widen.
It was horrific, seeing his face again, but at the same time, so heavenly. She felt so sick with sweetness and hatred, that her body started to tremble. All these years without him and he's here. He's fucking here.
"Hey, you okay?" Sam asks, coming over to her to caress her shoulder. Sam had never met Carl, and so he sees no one in particular when he sees Jane staring back into the crowd. He'd heard the stories, though.
"Yeah," she says, trying to divert her eyes from him to not alert Sam in any way. That's when she spots Carl leave, out of the corner of her eye. Fuck no.
"I'm fine, just um, give me a minute will you? Tell Henry I'll be right back."
He's taken aback, but she gives him no time to agree as she sets off through the crowd, trying to push through to get to him. He's already long gone by the time she's able to get to the door, but she doesn't stop. She wouldn't.
She has no time to shove her jacket on, and so she sprints past the porch where it hangs and grabs the bow resting by it.
ITS LATE INTO THE night when Carl retreats back into the forest. He can only take a clear breath when the tears start to come. He thinks of his dad, he can't get man's words out of his head. It feels like another episode, though he hasn't had one of those in years - but he hears it, the glass shattering, his fathers tears, Judith's wailing. He stops, latching his hand onto a tree trunk trying to stabilise himself - his chest heaving up and down.
He remembers what it was like after she'd gone, sobbing there for hours till Daryl found him, and joined in. He missed his father, his family, his life. And he fucking missed her.
After a minute, he gathered himself and stood up, ready to disappear into what he hoped was the fabric of the universe. He wipes his tears as he mindlessly wanders, and soon he knows that that's not actually what he's doing. He's walking away from it; from everything he'd faced. He's running from it, on purpose.
Groans and snarls erupt ahead of him, and he stops, as it's so dark he can't quite tell where it's coming from. Shit. No knife, no gun, nothing.
He takes a step forward and hears a clang, as the Walker slams against the tree beside him.
"You want to kill me, do it." He says into the abyss, hoping it's her and not Daryl that's lumbered after him.
"If I did, I wouldn't have fucking missed," She spits at him, an anger in her tone that sounds horrid in her mouth, and tastes bad too.
Silence ensues as Carl tries to think about his next move. This is Jane Peletier. This is his girl.
"Why the fuck did you come here?" The anger seethed in her, it boiled and blistered and hurt. She couldn't see his face now, but she could see it in her head: the last look he'd given her, before destroying everything. "You think you can just come back like nothing happened?!"
He says nothing once again, as she loads up another arrow. The truth is too great to explain here, if he ever actually decided to tell her it. Still, the way she speaks tears him apart even more. It feels as if every minute of silence that passes creates even more of a fog over who they used to be - Not just individually, but to each other.
"You're not leaving again, dickhead. Don't even think about it." She tells him, with a croak in her throat.
There's so much she wants to say to him; she wants to yell, she wants to tear him apart, she wants to analyse every single one of his excuses to find some meaning for his leaving. She wants to banish him like he banished her. But overall, she instinctively feels as if she should run into his arms and embrace him like she had all those years ago, and that is the thing that hurts the most. When had a reunion come to mean this?
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this is so short!!!!!!!!!! But I have literally been waiting to write this chapter for like months. Crazy ik. Anyways sorry 🥶