Soup Spoon

Hannah didn't know how many days it had been since she left the gun shed. Their home. She had wondered for what felt like months, and it very well might have been. She didn't know where she was going and she didn't know if she cared. Without the warmth of her mother and the security of her father, Hannah was left with nothing. She was nothing. Hannah was just a small speck floating through the deep woods, burying herself in thick grass when the monsters came by. All she ever did was move and hide. Move and hide. Over and over. She had never felt more alone.

Hannah slept when she could, which wasn't often. She could feel the rough bark on her back, digging at her spine as she tried to get comfortable. That night Hannah had finally found a place to settle, to try and rest. She had kept her eyes closed as the sun went down, gripping a knife over her chest. But she never fell asleep, not really. Each branch that snapped, every creature that darted by, forced her to stay alert. Hannah had never been so tired.

The grumbling of her stomach was what had finally forced her to move from her spot by the tree. She grabbed her bag, brushing off the dead leaves that had drifted on top of it, and pulled it over her shoulder. Hannah decided she had been out here for at least two months, though she could only base that on the routine she had kept. When she could feel the sun come up, Hannah would leave wherever she had stayed that night, not wanting to be in one place too long, and move on to find her next home. Sometimes, she would go far, maybe finding an abandoned shelter before the sun went down. Other times, she would only make it a mile before darkness enveloped the sky. That was her day. Every day.

Hannah hoped she would find a more comfortable place today. The sun was high in the sky, telling the girl she would have time to get at least a couple of miles in before the sun went down. As she walked through the thick woods, occasionally stumbling over branches, Hannah's stomach continued to growl. God, she was hungry. The path she had been following ended eventually, letting her out onto the road. She didn't like traveling that openly, but Hannah still found herself stepping onto the warm pavement, its heat burning through her shoes. She walked past the occasional abandoned car, frantically stabbing at the monsters that were still left inside, before rummaging around to see if she could find anything useful. When she couldn't Hannah only continued to walk.

It didn't catch her eye immediately. She almost walked right by it. It wasn't the blood that made her stop or the matted fur. Instead, it was the shiny bell that hung off of its neck. Off of its collar. The cat was so big. That was all Hannah could think about. She had looked around before walking up to it, checking that there were no monsters behind her. She couldn't look as her knife dragged through its stomach, the flesh thicker than Hannah had imagined. It was already dead, she told herself. Hannah cried when she'd finished it, her tears mixing with the blood it had left on her face. She couldn't pinpoint what had triggered the emotions. She felt so evil. She had just torn up a living thing, pulling at its insides for her own benefit. She couldn't bare to read the name she knew would be on the collar. It was someone's pet, someone's friend. And yet, her tears had also turned desperate as her stomach began to growl once again. Hannah looked at what she had done, at the blood on her hands, and still found herself wanting more. She was greedy and she was evil. Hannah was just like the monsters.  

Her vision was blurry as the tears fell. All she could see were bursts of dull greens and fiery reds. Hannah's head began to hurt with each heaving sob she let out. She wanted her mom. She wanted her dad. She wanted things to be as they had been so long ago. Hannah cried and cried until a soft whistling sound appeared, engulfing everything around her. She didn't know the tune it was singing, something just on the line between eerie and comforting. It seemed to grow louder and louder, piercing her ears. It screamed at her. And then it stopped.

---

Hannah woke with a shout, her forehead damp with a layer of sweat and grime. She sat up, pulling at a woolen blanket draped across her up higher to her chest. She hadn't dreamt like that in a long time. She didn't even know she remembered what it was like outside. Before she got to Alexandria. She wasn't sure if the things she had dreamed were in fact real or just that, dreams. Hannah didn't want to know.

She could feel a hand on her head, smoothing her hair lightly. She looked up to see Daryl, his eyes towards his side, away from her. She didn't even notice she had shifted until Daryl turned towards her, his eyes softening at the sight.

"Good, you're awake. I was gonna be pissed if Eugene used up all you're blood"

Now she remembered. Denise. Eugene. The saviors. It all came back to her.

She had passed out in the car, sleeping the entire way home. Hannah assumed they brought both her and Eugene into the infirmary. She looked over to the bed across from her to find Eugene, just as she suspected, fast asleep on the gurney.

"How long was I out?" Hannah asked, her voice scratchy as she spoke.

Daryl reached to the table beside her bed, grabbing a half-empty glass of water, "Just about an hour since we got back." He helped her sit up so that she could sip from the glass. The water went down her throat like ice.

"How is everyone?" Hannah spoke softly. She wanted him to say that everything was fine. That they had all made it home safely. She didn't want him to mention Denise. She wasn't ready for that.

"Everyone's good. Eugene's been knocked out longer than you, but I think he's just trying to get out of work," Daryl whispered the last part and Hannah smiled, "You did good out there, kid. I'm proud of you." Hannah didn't know how to respond when his words become serious, so she only nodded and he seemed to understand her.

"I gotta get going alright? I'll see you when I get back," He continued abruptly and his words dazed her. Hannah moved to sit higher in the bed, her back getting caught in the pillows.

"What? Where are you going?" She wanted to sit with him a little longer, even if only in silence. She was still on edge from her dream.

"I just gotta do something. You'll be fine without me." He began to get up, moving away from her side.

"Daryl?" Hannah tried, but he said nothing. As he turned to leave, Hannah could see the way his face dropped. He wasn't the same light-hearted man he had been a moment ago. Now, he was angry.

She knew where he was going when she heard the motorcycle engine revving. She knew what was happening when she heard people shouting for him to stop. Hannah knew this wouldn't end well.

---

Daryl had gone to look for Dwight, to kill him, and Carol had left with only a letter to explain herself. When Hannah finally got out of the infirmary, the spinning in her head slowing to a stop, most of her group had already left. Glenn, Michonne, and Rosita had gone to look for Daryl, while Rick and Morgan left to find Carol.

She could see Maggie wandering by the gate as if searching for something to do. Her hair was up in a loose bun and her hands were placed on her stomach.

"Hey," Hannah said as she approached the woman, not wanting to startle her.

Maggie turned at Hannah's voice, smiling wide as she realized who it was.

"You're awake," She happily stated, her slight accent drawing out her words.

"Yeah, Daryl was there when I got up," she said and Maggie hummed, "What are you up to?"

The woman began to walk slowly, so Hannah followed behind, "I tried to rest for a bit, but I can't keep still I guess. Came out to get some fresh air."

Hannah didn't respond as they walked, holding a peaceful silence between them. Her dizziness was long gone, and the sun felt good on her skin. It was peaceful. Once they reached closer to the center of town, Maggie began speaking once again.  

"Do you think you could help me with something?" Her smile was almost mischievous as she spoke and Hannah couldn't help but nod without thinking.

"Of course."

They ended up in Maggie's dining room, with her sitting on a chair and Hannah standing just behind, scissors in hand. She had only ever cut her father's hair before, but she was eager to help, not wanting to think about everything happening. Maggie explained what she wanted, a short cut, out of her face, and Hannah got to work. When she finished, she ran her fingers through the woman's hair, admiring her work. It had turned out much better than Hannah had expected, though she wouldn't tell Maggie that. The woman gazed at herself in a small hand-held mirror, running her own hands through her new hair, and Hannah felt proud when Maggie smiled at herself.

"You like it?" She asked.

"I do," was all Maggie said, placing the mirror back onto the dining table.

"Me too," Hannah softly brushed some fallen hair from Maggie's shoulder as she continued, "But why?"

Maggie sighed, "I have to keep going. And I don't want anything getting in my way."

Hannah quickly took her hands off the woman's shoulders as her face turned, eyes pinched in discomfort.

"Maggie?" Maggie only breathed heavily through tight lips, "Are you alright? It's okay if you don't like it. I've never really cut off that much before, I should have told you that."

"No. No, it's not that," Maggied cut off her ramble, her hands curling against her stomach as she continued to breathe.

"Okay," Hannah only whispered, unsure of what was happening.

Then Maggie screamed, pushing herself off of the chair and crawling beside the table. Hannah immediately bent down, her voice frantic as she tried to help, but Maggie's cry was the only thing she could hear. As Maggie rocked back and forth, it engulfed the room and pierced Hannah's ears as it grew louder. It was like a whistle.  

This wouldn't end well.

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Hiii Lovelies!!

I'm finally posting again! I really am sorry it took so long, but I hope you guys are as excited as I am to get back into Tour Guide! This is a bit of a filler chapter but we all know what is to come so I didn't want to get too crazy.

I'm addition to editing the story, I have some really exciting news!! The wonderful Polinap_14 is translating Tour Guide to Greek! Make sure to go follow them as they update!!!

What do we think of the updates?

Hannah could hear Daryl's heavy breath as she crouched below him, Denise still laying dead in her hands.

"You got something to say to me?" The man taunted, "You gonna clear the air? Step up on that high horse? No, you don't talk much."

The man nodded his head, signaling to the other men to get the group's weapons. A larger man with a rifle walked up to Hannah, a smirk drawn on his face.

"Come on, get up little girl," He looked down at Denise, "She ain't going nowhere." As Hannah stood, slowly, she could smell the stench coming off of the man. It was worse than anything she had smelled before. Worse than the smell of the apothecary. Worse than the smell of the storage closet. He drew closer to her and it became stronger. Hannah grimaced as his hands patted her sides, squeezing as they went along.

"Hey," Rosita warned the man.

"It's fine," Hannah said softly, her body tense.

The man finished, pulling the knife from Hannah's belt, and smiled at Rosita "Yeah, it's fine."

"Hey, Jim," The man patting down Daryl spoke, "What's in her pocket there?"

Hannah froze. She could feel Daryl's eyes on her.

"Let's see shall we?" The man was almost giddy as he said it, seeing the fear on Hannah's face, "Whatchu got there little girl?"

Slowly, the man reached his hand into Hannah's left pants pocket, feeling around for what had made the protrusion. Hannah shut her eyes, breathing as slowly as possible. It felt like ages that the man stood in front of her, his stench stronger than before. Finally, he pulled away. In his hands, as Hannah had feared, were the three lipsticks she had stashed while at the apothecary.

The man laughed, mockingly.

"D, look at this," He tossed the tubes to the man holding Eugene. 'D'.

D caught the tubes in one hand, inspecting them with a smirk. He chuckled to himself before looking at Hannah.

"You got someone you wanna get pretty for, hun?"

Hannah looked away.

"I shoulda done it," Daryl spoke, malice heavy in his voice.

"Oh, what's that?" D said, throwing the lipsticks to the side "Seriously, I didn't catch what you said."

"I shoulda killed you," Daryl repeated, staring D down.

"Yeah. You probably should've," D paused, "So here we are, kinda begs the question, right? Who brought this on who? I mean, I get that you'll just have to take my word for this, but she wasn't even the one I was aiming for. It's nothing personal"

As D continued to speak, Hannah could see Eugene looking over into the woods at something she couldn't quite see.

"What do you want?" Rosita asked D.

"I'm sorry, darlin', I didn't catch your name," He taunted, "I'm D, or Dwight. You can call me either." Dwight waited for a response, "So? What's your name?"

"Rosita," she said sharply, "What do you want?"

"Well, Rosita," Dwight said, mockingly, "It's not what I want. It's what you and Daryl," He paused, "and this random little girl you brought with you, are gonna do. You're gonna let us into your little complex. It looks just beautiful in there, you know. And then you're gonna let us take whatever, and whoever we want," Dwight reached down, shaking Eugene's shoulders as he spoke, "Or we blow Eugene heres brains out. Then the girl's. Then yours. And then his." Daryl's face was stone as Dwight spoke, "I hope it doesn't come to that, really. Nobody else has to die. We just try and start with one, that's it. You know, maximum impact to get our point across," Eugene's breathing began to pick up, "So, what's it gonna be? You tell me."

With a deep breath, Eugene spoke up from below Dwight, "You want to kill someone, you start with our companion hiding over behind the oil barrels. He's a first-class a-hole and he deserves it so much more than us four."

At his words, Dwight pulled his gun out of its holster, motioning for his men to check out the barrels. Hannah watched as they moved in, guns ready. She held her breath, waiting for everything to go to shit.

Just before the men reached the barrels, Dwight screamed out, doubling over and letting go of Eugene. He had bit his crotch, holding on as the man screamed.

Suddenly shots began to ring out from the woods, killing some of the saviors beside Dwight. Everyone reached for their own guns, shooting at anything they could hit. Daryl reached for the man in front of him, cutting his throat and taking his gun. Hannah ran behind an abandoned car, knowing her knife would be no help to her.

As she crouched down by the passenger door, the glass of the window above her shattered, sprinkling the shards over her head. From underneath the car, Hannah could see the fallen body of a savior, his gun laying loosely in his arm. With a quick check of her surroundings, Hannah shimmied underneath the car, reaching as far as she could for the gun. She could only get her torso underneath before Hannah knew she would be seen. Stretching her arm again, Hannah could now reach the fabric of the gun's strap. As she began to pull, the body beneath the gun started to stir, releasing a low growl. It had turned much faster than she expected. Quickly, Hannah tried to pull back on the strap, but the walker caught it between its fingers, holding on with everything it had. Without a second thought, Hannah swung her leg beside her, kicking at the growling creature. Its jaw snapped, hanging loosely like a hinge.

"Come on," She begged.

Suddenly, blood spurted out of the walker's head, splashing against Hannah's face. Someone had shot it. She moved as fast as she could, grabbing the gun and looking just over the hood of the car. Her eyes searched for Daryl or Rosita, expecting them to be the ones who shot the walker. Instead, as she looked around, though it seemed impossible, it was Dwight who was looking at her. Just as fast as she had seen it, he looked away, but Hannah had seen it nonetheless.

She didn't have time to question him before Hannah saw another savior running at Daryl. His back was turned, and without any hesitation, Hannah pulled the trigger. She watched the man fall. She watched the blood pour out around him. Hannah shuttered.

"Fall back! Fall back!" Dwight shouted through the gunfire. He let out a few final shots before running away with his men. Immediately, Daryl ran to grab his dropped bow, aiming at the man who had shot Denise.

"Daryl, stop!" Rosita yelled out before he could do anything.

Hannah ran out from behind the car, following Rosita's voice. She was crouched over Eugene, who was still laying on the tracks. As Hannah got closer, she realized the worst had happened. Rosita held her hands over the wound on Eugene's side, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. Abraham had run over as well, helping to pick him up off the tracks. Hanah stood beside Rosita, holding onto Eugene's legs as they carried him to the truck, leaving Denise's body where it had fallen. Hannah felt tears drip onto her hot cheeks as they ran.

---

They didn't make it even halfway to Alexandria before Eugene began losing consciousness. His blood covered Abraham and Rosita, who sat in the back of the truck, trying desperately to keep him awake.

"Shit," Abraham huffed, "Shit!"

"Guys, he's lost too much blood, we won't make it," Rosita spoke frantically.

"We're gonna make it," Daryl pressed harder on the gas, throwing everyone back into their seats.

Rosita pulled a jacket out of her bag, tying it as best she could around Eugene's torso, "We've gotta stop the bleeding."

Abruptly, Daryl hit the brakes on the truck, causing the wheels to squeak and the gears to grumble. Hannah fell forward, bracing herself on the dashboard in front of her. She looked ahead, now seeing what made Daryl stop.

The tree that they had run into all that time ago was still laying on the road, blocking their path.

"Bitch nuts," Abraham sighed.

"Go around it," Rosita said, although she knew it wasn't possible.

"We can't," Daryl said, trying to be calm.

"Then we'll carry him," Rosita added.

"We can't. It's too far."

The car was silent. Hannah looked back from the front seat. She watched Eugene as he lay peacefully on Abraham, his chest rising ever so slightly. Above him, she could also see the despair on everyone's faces.

"He's not dead," Hannah said to no one in particular, "He's not dead, okay? He's still breathing. We can't just stop, we can't..." Hannah didn't finish. Everyone in the car looked at her, a sort of condescension in their eyes. But Hannah knew they could do something. They had to do something.

She turned to Daryl, "Please."

Daryl looked at her, saying nothing. Finally, his jaw tightened and he turned to Abraham, "Get out. We gotta move the tree."

As the two men left the car, Hannah moved to the backseat to try and help Rosita. When she entered, Hannah could see the wetness on the woman's face but said nothing.

"I'll keep the pressure," Rosita said, pulling the jacket tighter. Hannah nodded and reached over, letting her ear rest on Eugene's chest. She could hear his heart beating softly. When her head rose, Rosita looked at her, her eyes asking the question.

Hannah nodded. He was alive.

"You've gotta check if the bullet went all the way through," Rosita said, filling the tense air. The two girl's rolled Eugene to his side, looking underneath where the bullet had entered. There was no exit wound.

"Shit," Hannah muttered. Rosita understood what that meant, gently lifting Eugene's head and stepping outside of the car. She leaned over his body, her hand still stroking his long hair.

"Most of it's intact, but there are some shards in there," Rosita said after inspecting the wound.

Hannah rubbed her hands over her face and the two looked at each other.

She called Daryl and Abraham over, who had managed to move the tree about a foot. Daryl too looked at the wound and came to the same conclusion.

Hannah knew what that meant. She knew it was bad. All the times she had watched Denise work on patients, all the books she had taken from the infirmary to read on the gazebo, somehow, all of it was going to have to save Eugene.

"We gotta get them out," Hannah breathed.

No one said anything.

"Okay, um" Hannah breathed, thinking, "Rosita, do you still have the alcohol you found earlier?"

"Yeah," She said, quickly moving to grab her bag out of the truck bed.

"Okay, good, good," Hannah muttered to herself, "Shit, he still needs blood. We don't have an IV." Hannah looked to the other men, who only looked back at her like she had the answer. Then, Abraham's face lit up.

"Denise's bag is still here, maybe she's got something in there,"

"I'll look," Rosita yelled back to them.

"Alright, I'm O-Neg, is anybody else?"

Both men shook their heads.

Rosita came to the side of the truck, the bag of booze in one hand and an old IV in the other.

"Oh, thank shit," Abraham let out and Hannah heard Daryl sigh. Rosita threw Hannah the IV before pouring some of the alcohol onto Eugene's wound. Hannah jumped up onto the seat, pulling Eugene's legs over her own.

She passed the bag to the man closest to her, "Abraham, can you stick me?" He didn't move, only staring at the scene in front of him, "What are you, scared of needles? Stick me," Hannah said, sterner than she had meant to. When Abraham still didn't move, Daryl came to Hannah's side, wrapping his belt around her arm, and put in the IV. Hannah winced.

"Ok, we gotta get that bullet out," Hannah said, letting her arm rest over Eugene's legs. "Daryl, you got any scissors or pliers or anything?"

"Yeah. yeah," he breathed, pulling his bag off his shoulder and pulling out a pair of needle nose pliers, still with bike grease on its head. He wiped it off on his shirt and passed them to Rosita, who poured some of the liquid over them.

"You guys keep working on the tree, okay," Hannah motioned towards Abraham and Daryl, "We got this."

As the two men left the truck, Hannah looked back over to Rosita, who was holding the pliers in one hand, trying to hide the dread on her face.

"Rosita," Hannah questioned.

"I don't know what to do. I don't think--"

"You just have to grab them, okay," Hannah was beginning to feel the effects of the IV, her head feeling light as she spoke, "You just have to look around and pull anything silver, alright? It's simple. You can do it."

"How do you know? How do you know what to do?" Rosita asked.

Hannah felt her eyes closing as she spoke.

"Denise showed me."

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Hi Loveliessss!! Ahhh omg a double update!! I am so grateful for you guys being so patient and understanding with my update schedule, so I hope this makes up for that.

Why did Dwight shoot the walker??? That was so weird, right??? 😏

Hannah knew the trip to Hilltop had been horrific. She had so much hope, a desperate kind of hope, that it would go well. And yet it ended in the capture of two of their own people, Maggie and Carol. Hannah hadn't heard about what happened until afterward, but she couldn't help but watch the two women as they walked through the gates of Alexandria, knowing deep down that something had gone wrong.

Maggie, Hannah realized, meant much more to her than she had imagined. If it weren't for Maggie, Hannah wouldn't have been able to get away from the W woman. Without her, Hannah would never have gotten to see that life was so much more than survival. That they could find love underneath all the horror, that it was possible to have a family.

Though in the beginning, Hannah wasn't so fond of Carol, she realized now why the woman had put on an act for so long. It was about survival. In order to live a life as Maggie had shown her, Hannah would need to survive. Carol was a survivor who lived.

After leaving the pantry, Hannah saw Daryl and Rosita loading up a truck with different supplies. She knew they weren't scheduled for anything today, but Hannah could tell they were setting up for a run. The sight became even more confusing when she saw Denise come around from the other side of the truck, a large backpack slung on her shoulder and more supplies in her hands. Maybe they weren't going on a run? Hannah had never seen Denise join the others to the outside, nor had Hannah known she had any interest. But, as she watched the determined look on the woman's face grow, Hannah remembered that there was a first time for everything.

"What are you guys up to? I thought you weren't scheduled for anything today?" Hannah spoke when she neared the small group.

"We're running low on meds. Denise said she knows where to get some," Rosita said.

"Oh, ok," Hannah looked to Denise, giving her a reassuring nod, "Well, then I'll leave you to it."

Hannah turned to leave the group, but just as he had the other day, Daryl called her name.

"Do you wanna come with us?" Rosita quickly turned her head to him, giving him an obviously annoyed look. Daryl paid no mind as he waited for a response.

"What?" Hannah asked. With everything that had happened at Hilltop, she expected everyone, but especially Daryl, to be weary about letting people leave the compound. Hannah had only heard whispers about this 'Negan' and his people from those who had gone to Hilltop, but she knew he was dangerous.

"Yeah, I think it would be good for you to get out of this place."

After a little more convincing and a sly permissive nod from Rosita, Hannah found herself squashed into the front seat of the truck. Daryl sat in front of the wheel, and with no console in the car, Hannah and Denise sat in the middle, followed by Rosita at the window. As they began out of the compound, it was obvious something was wrong with the truck. The car continued to sputter as Daryl pushed and pulled on the shift, grumbling curses under his breath.

"It, uh.." Denise started, unsure of her words.

"What?" Daryl spoke gruffly.

"Forget it."

"No, what?" Daryl was agitated now as the gears continued to grind.

"I think, maybe, you're disengaging it too soon," Denise said as Daryl eyed her, "I've been driving stick since I was 15. Usually beat up trucks like this," Hannah smiled at the small jab, "My brother taught me so I just know."

Denise reached for the stick to show Daryl how he was meant to do it, but he shooed her hand away, his face intimidating and unmoving.

"Daryl," Hannah spoke in a soft but stern voice. The man looked at her, seeing the annoyance on her face, and threw his palms up against the top of the wheel in surrender. Before he could say anything in response, Rosita pointed out the large fallen tree that laid on the road, blocking their path. The car slowed to a stop, and Daryl and Rosita got out, slamming the doors, their guns at the ready.

Hannah shuffled in her seat next to Denise, taking advantage of the new space on the bench. The car was silent as they watched Daryl and Rosita pulling parts of the tree out of their way. It was so quiet that Hannah wouldn't have been able to notice the soft snarling coming from outside the car unless Denise hadn't whipped her head towards it. Hannah could see the frantic look in her eyes and she felt bad. This was new to Denise, new to both of them, and they didn't exactly have the nicest hosts. Slowly, so as not to surprise her, Hannah put her hand on Denise's shoulder. When she turned to face her, Hannah tried to give a reassuring smile.

"You don't have to be nervous. They're pretty good," Hannah nodded towards Daryl and Rosita, who were walking back towards the truck.

"Come on, it's clear," Rosita said as she pulled open the passenger door loudly, causing Denise to jump.

Denise and Hannah got out of the truck and Rosita offered the bag of liquor she had found underneath the tree.

"Any takers?"

"No thanks," Denise said as she walked, "They were kinda my parent's thing. Which is why they aren't mine."

Rosita rose her brows, uninterested with Denise's answer, and turned to Hannah with a sly smile, "Hannah?"

She chuckled softly, "I'm good."

Once they had gotten all of their supplies out of the truck, Daryl began walking past the tree, leaving the car behind.

"The truck ain't gonna make it past this tree," He said, "Come on, let's walk."

Before he got far enough, however, Denise spoke up.

"Hold up," Daryl turned at her voice, "Looks like a straight shot if we follow the tracks."

"No. No tracks. We'll take the road." Daryl pointed ahead, beginning forward once again.

"That's twice as far," Rosita pointed out.

Clearly annoyed, Daryl turned one last time, "Go whichever way you like. I ain't taking no damn tracks."

Daryl didn't look back as he began walking away from the group, deeper into the woods. After a moment, Denise followed behind him, leaving Rosita and Hannah on their own. Hannah waited, unsure of which way to go before Rosita hiked her bag higher up on her shoulder and turned to the girl.

"Go," She spoke as if she was giving permission, nodding her head towards the woods. Before Hannah could speak, Rosita began following the tracks.

As Hannah stood alone on the road, she blew out a soft sigh, thinking over her options.

"Why'd you follow me," Rosita said once Hannah matched her pace on the tracks.

"Didn't want you to be alone."

---

Rosita and Hannah sat by the side of the road, waiting until the others finally came up the path.

"Took you long enough," Rosita spoke, but Daryl continued walking ahead, ignoring both her and Hannah. Denise pulled Rosita to the side, talking to her quietly, so Hannah ran up, walking slowly beside Daryl.

They finally arrived at the apothecary and Hannah was taken aback by its appearance. She knew it wouldn't be nice, but the blood that smeared the windows and piles of dead walkers that blanketed the concrete still forced her to hold her breath.

Daryl knocked on the fogged door of the building, listening to what could be inside. Passing his gun to Rosita, he pulled a large crowbar out of his bag and jammed it into the crack of the door, grunting as he pulled it back.

Just as the door opened, the rancid smell of death wafted past the group, and Hannah grimaced. As they walked in, she could hear Denise holding back a gag behind her.

"We gone find out what you had for breakfast?" Daryl joked without looking back.

"Oatmeal," Denise said softly.

As the group walked farther into the store, Hannah noticed a wall of clothes in the back of the room. Looking to the group, Hannah thought, no one would notice if she checked it out. As she approached, she found that the back was not only covered in racks of dresses but also shoes and jewelry. She couldn't help but let her hands run through the different dresses, looking through the things that had yet to be taken. She held out the skirt of one of the dresses, a pinkish-purple one with flowery black mesh covering the fabric. She twirled the skirt in between her fingers, noting how it looked just like the dress she had once worn to her cousin's wedding. She was the flower girl.

Next to the dresses was a small vanity, its mirror scuffed and dusty. The drawers were pulled open, seemingly riffled through. All of the drawers looked as if they were empty, but when Hannah looked closer, one still had its contents stuffed in the back. She pulled the drawer out as far as it could go and found a small pile of makeup hidden inside. She couldn't tell exactly what it was, but Hannah recognized the pink and red tubes from her mother's old drawers. She pulled out three tubes, each a slightly different shade of pink. She opened the top of one, a deep red, and let the wand run over the back of her hand.

"Hey, over here," Rosita called out from the other side of the store. Hannah jumped at the voice and quickly stuffed the makeup into the pockets of her pants.

"Hannah, come on," Daryl called as she neared the group. They had hopped over the ledge of the pharmacy window, riffling through bottles of pills. Hannah readied herself to jump over the counter before realizing that Denise wasn't with the group. She looked to Daryl and Rosita, who continued to throw bottles into their bags. Suddenly, Hannah heard a muffled banging coming from beside the pharmacy. Slowly, she pulled her knife out of its sheath and followed the sound. Hannah stopped when she came to what looked like a storage closet, its door slightly ajar and a small amount of light coming from inside. Quietly, she reached for it's handle, her knife gripped in her palm. When she opened it, Hannah saw a woman, Denise, standing over a sink. Beside her, Hannah could see a grotesque walker banging against the wall. Before she could say anything, Denise ran out of the closet, dropping her flashlight as she did. Hannah jumped back, before reaching down for the flashlight. She held her breath as she let the light scan the room, looking for what had scared Denise. Hannah followed it to where the woman had stood, looking down at the metal sink, filled just to the brim with a brown liquid. Inside, Hannah could see a small children's shoe unnaturally turned just above the water. Just as Denise had, Hannah gasped and ran out of the closet.

As she closed the door behind her, Hannah could hear the sound of breaking glass across from her.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rosita shouted at Denise, who was standing over the shattered mess of a fallen shelf.

"Nothing," Denise spoke calmly, before hurrying out of the building. Rosita turned to Hannah, who was watching as the woman left.

"It's fine," was all Hannah could say.

---

Hannah stood beside Denise outside of the store, her back resting against the red brick. She said nothing but watched as the woman looked down at a small keychain in her hands. Dennis, it read.

The doors opened and Daryl and Rosita came out of the building, their bags heavy with the medicine they had found.

"Hey," Daryl spoke to Denise, who was still sitting on the ground, "You did good finding this place."

The group began the journey back to Alexandria, this time following the tracks the whole way. Daryl and Rosita walked together, leading the group, and Hannah walked behind them, just in front of Denise. It was quiet as they walked, save for soft groans coming from in the trees. As Hannah walked, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Denise leaving their path. She stopped, watching as the woman neared an abandoned blue car, left in the rubble outside of the tracks.

"There's a cooler in there," Denise yelled out to the group, pointing at the dusty car, "Might be something we could use inside."

Daryl and Rosita stopped, turning towards Denise's voice.

"We got what we came for," Rosita yelled back.

"Nah, ain't worth the trouble," Daryl added, "Come on."

Still, Denise stayed by the car, walking around to the passenger side door.

Hannah knew it wasn't a good idea. She knew Daryl was right, it wasn't worth the trouble. But still, she found herself stepping off of the tracks, heading towards the blue car. When Hannah got closer, she could hear the walker inside, growling and banging on the windows, just like the one in the closet.

"Hey," Hannah said softly.

"Hey," Denise barely looked up as she spoke, pulling her knife out of its sheath, and reaching for the door. Hannah could see the determination on her face as she pulled it open slowly. She stepped back, trying to let Denise do what she needed to do, but still had her own knife ready. Reaching in, Denise clumsily pulled at a blue cooler that was on the passenger seat. Before Hannah knew what was happening, Denise was on the ground, a walker snarling on top of her.

"Denise," Hannah let out a yell.

Daryl and Rosita heard the commotion, running over with their weapons drawn.

Hannah ran to Denise's side, ready to kill the walker she was wrestling with.

"No, don't" Denise yelled at her in a tone she had never heard. Daryl, who was standing behind her, pulled Hannah back gently as Denise stabbed her own knife into the walker's skull. It was silent as the woman stood up, her breath heavy. Almost immediately she doubled over, throwing up on the ground in front of Hannah.

"Oh man," Denise breathed out and pointed down at the mess, "See, oatmeal." Still, no one said anything.

Denise bent back down, opening up the cooler that had fallen out of her hands. Inside, she pulled out a six-pack of sodas, tearing off a can of Orange Crush.

"Hot damn," She muttered.

"What the hell was that?" Daryl spoke up, stepping in front of Hannah now, "You coulda died right there! You could've gotten her killed, you know that?" Daryl motioned to Hannah.

"Yeah, I do."

"Are you hearing me," Daryl asked again.

"Who gives a shit! You could have died killing those saviors, both of you guys, but you didn't. You wanna live, you take chances. That's how it works. That's what I did."

"For a couple of damn sodas," Daryl shook his head.

"Nope," Denise said, shoving the can of Crush in his face, "Just this one."

Hannah heard Rosita scoff as Denise walked away.

"You good," She said, turning to the girl.

"Yeah," Hannah breathed out.

They all followed Denise back onto the tracks

"Are you seriously that stupid?" Rosita shouted when they met up with Denise, her voice quickly changing from the tone she had used with Hannah.

"Are you?" Denise stopped walking, "I mean it, are you? Do you have any clue what that was to me, what this whole thing is to me?" Denise paused, "See, I have training in this shit. I'm not making it up as I go along, like with the stitches and surgery and the..." Denise pointed to Daryl before speaking again, "I asked you to come with me because you're brave like my brother, and sometimes you actually make me feel safe," She turned to Rosita next, "I wanted you here because you're alone, probably for the first time in your life. And because you're stronger than you think you are, which gives me hope that maybe I can be too," Finally, she turned to Hannah, "And I'm glad you're here because you're nice and you make people good without even trying."

"Look, I could have gone with Tara. I could've told her I loved her, but I didn't because I was afraid. That's what's stupid. Not coming out here, not facing my shit. And it makes me sick that you guys aren't even trying because you're strong and you're smart and you're really good people! And if you don't--"

If Hannah had blinked, she would have missed the sight of the arrow entering Denise's head. She gasped as the woman fell to the ground, blood pouring out of her eye where the arrow had hit. Hannah bent down, a sob stuck in her throat as chaos struck around them. With Denise's head in her lap, Hannah watched as about twenty men came out of the woods, their guns drawn, pointing toward the group.

"You drop 'em now!" A voice that Hannah had never heard yelled out. She looked to see a man, his face disfigured on one side, smiling at them as he pushed a scared Eugene to his knees. Where had he come from?

"Well, hell," said the man.

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Heyy Loveliesss! I feel like I haven't posted in forever so please enjoy this extra-long chapter. I really liked writing this so I hope you guys like it! Also, to make up for not posting last week, I may or may not be posting another chapter tonight for you guys.... 😏 you'll just have to wait and see!

What do we think of Hannah's first run??

Maggie was working in the garden when Hannah found her. It wasn't that she was looking for her necessarily, but Hannah was glad to see the woman.

"I heard about that guy Daryl and Rick brought back," Hannah spoke as they knelt in the dirt, pulling weeds from the soil. It wasn't Hannah's shift in the garden, but she knew how Maggie could overwork herself, even with her baby on the way. Hannah decided that, after everything Maggie had done for her, it was the least she could do.

"Jesus?" Maggie said, her voice heavy with an accent.

"That's his name?" Hannah stopped pulling at the weed she was working on, "Really?"

Maggie gave a light chuckle, "He says that's what they call him at his colony"

"That's where Rick and everyone are headed today, his colony?" Hannah asked as she went back to the weeds.

Maggie nodded at her words. The two became silent as they focused on their work, but Hannah continued to think about what was to come. She had yet to meet this 'Jesus', but she wanted to believe in what he had said. If there really was more out there, Hannah hoped that they could find it through him.

She went home after finishing up in the garden, only to come out moments later with two proudly wrapped sandwiches in her hands. Hannah felt a little embarrassed at the idea, but she wanted so desperately for something good to come out of this trip. So, she would do what she could to help.

"Hey, kid," Daryl said without turning from the trailer as Hannah approached. He was hauling a box of different weaponry into the back, locking it in place before turning to face the girl.

"Watchu got there?" He asked, wiping his hands off and pointing to the wrapped food in her hands.

"I made you some sandwiches. You know, for on the road or whatever." She spoke nonchalantly, holding out the packages to Daryl. He took them from her hands and inspected them for a moment.

"There's two of 'em," Daryl said bluntly and Hannah's brows furrowed.

"Yeah," She told him, "One for the way there, one for the way back."

Daryl let himself smile at her words, something she knew he didn't do very often, and he moved both sandwiches into one of his hands.

"Well, let's hope they taste better than they look. Cause it looks like shit," Daryl said lightheartedly and Hannah laughed.

"Okay," she said before turning away to help the others. Before she could leave though, Daryl called her name.

"You know, if you ever want to come out on one of these runs or something, I'm sure it wouldn't be too bad. You're smart."

Hannah smiled. She looked around for a moment, noticing how almost everyone she knew was outside, helping to send the group off to Jesus's colony. Just behind Daryl, Hannah could see Carl knelt beside some red jerrycans he must have just filled with gas, talking with his dad. Hannah looked back to Daryl.

"I'll think about it," was all she told him. Daryl nodded at her words.

"Ok," He spoke, opening the passenger side door of the trailer, "Thanks Hannah," He raised the sandwiches that were still in his hand. She gave him a wide smile before leaving him to finish his work on the trailer.

Rick had left Carl by the time Hannah got to him. He was standing now, putting his final plastic container into one of the cars.

"Hey," Hannah spoke and Carl turned his head to her.

"Hey, Hannah."

She knelt down beside Carl, picked up the last container, and lifted it up by the handle, carrying it to the car. It felt extra heavy on her arm, forcing her to strain as she pulled it up to the trunk of the car. Hannah paid no mind to the sensation, but she took note that it was the arm on the side of her body that had been injured all that time ago. It felt like forever since the attack, Hannah thought, look how far they had come.

"You going with your dad?" Hannah asked once her hands were empty.

Carl now leaned on the closed trunk, facing Hannah who was standing just in front of him.

"No, I don't think I should," Hannah cocked her head, questioning what he meant, "I mean, someone's gotta take care of this place while everyone's gone." Carl paused, dropping his eyes from Hannah's before giving a soft smile and a shake of his head, "Besides, a kid with a fucked up face probably wouldn't make the best first impression anyway."

"Carl," Hannah rebuked his words as if it were a reflex. Carl shrugged, not meaning it as anything more than a joke. Still, Hannah hated to hear him say it. He wasn't fucked up. And even if he was, weren't they all? Wasn't she? The jagged scars across Hannah's own body almost burned at the thought. Did he think that of her? She never saw Carl's injury as something shameful, but rather a reminder. It was a reminder of all that he had been through, what they had all been through.

"Well, you can't protect this place all by yourself can you?" Hannah smiled at the surprise on Carl's face.

"You don't have--" Carl began to speak before they heard Abraham yell out from beside the trailer.

"Let's chew up some asphalt!" He called, his gun tucked into his arm.

Before Carl could continue his sentence, Hannah gave him a small goodbye and returned to Daryl, who was readying himself to get in the trailer with the others.

"Hey," Daryl said when Hannah came beside him, "You coming with us?"

"No, I think I'm gonna stay here," Hannah told him. Though she couldn't see it, Daryl looked past her, making eye contact with Carl.

"Don't worry about it, kid," Daryl gave Hannah a knowing look that she didn't quite understand, "It's probably better you don't see me gagging on those sandwiches."

Hannah smiled at the man before wrapping her arms around his torso, pulling him into an unexpected hug.

"Good luck," she said.

---

After the group left, it began to rain. Hannah had wanted to go to her gazebo, hoping to reread one of her books once more, but instead, she found herself hiding from the weather inside the infirmary.

She expected to see Denise inside, which she wouldn't have minded but found the room completely empty when she arrived. The first thing Hannah noticed when she stepped inside was how quiet it was. She hadn't been back since Carl was hurt, but Hannah had always been a little weary of the building since her own attack. However, as she let her hands run over all of the equipment that was still strewn about, gauze, scissors, and needles, Hannah realized how peaceful the infirmary really was.

Quickly, though, that peace was disturbed by someone heavy-handedly opening the door.

Hannah turned swiftly, surprised at the sudden noise, and saw Carl standing in the doorway.

"Oh, sorry," He spoke, "I was just looking for Denise."

"Don't worry about it." Neither of them spoke after that. The room was silent, save only for the sound of Carl shuffling farther into the space.

"Um, I don't think Denise is here. Do you need something?" Hannah asked, filling the air.

"Oh no, um... I just, Denise usually helps me change my bandages," Carl said almost nervously, gesturing to the wrap around his face.

"Oh," Hannah thought for a moment, "Well, I can help you. I know where Denise keeps the gauze and everything."

Carl immediately dismissed her, shaking his head as she spoke.

"Really, I don't mind. I know how to do it if that's what you're worried about." Hannah tried once more, pointing to her own head. She had wrapped her own bandages after the attack.

"No, no it's not that, it's just, " Carl paused, leaning his body against the wall behind him, looking at Hannah who now stood by the gurney in the center of the room, "It's pretty gross."

"Okay," was all Hannah said, so Carl continued.

"I don't want to scare you," he said it softly like he himself was scared.

"You couldn't scare me, Carl."

"Hannah--" Carl sighed, but she wouldn't let him disparage himself.

"Really," She assured the boy, "Even when I first met you, I mean I thought I was scared of you, all of you. But I wasn't scared of you, I was scared of what you represented, what you reminded me of. But look at us now, I mean, we go outside the walls, we--we tell each other things. I trust you, Carl, I--" Hannah paused her ramble, sighing, "I could never be scared of you."

"And hey," She continued, her voice lighter, "I've seen some pretty nasty stuff," referencing her own injuries once more.

Carl was silent at her words, but Hannah could see his thoughts running quickly. His brows were furrowed slightly and he couldn't quite look her in the eyes. It wasn't until he finally spoke that Hannah could see his face again.

"It's really ugly, Hannah," His voice wavered as he said it, and Hannah remembered how young he really was. How young they both were.

Before she could think to do anything else, Hannah turned from Carl and walked to where she knew the gauze was kept. She came back with a roll and handed it to Carl. He looked at the white material in her hands and then back to Hannah.

"What?" He breathed out. Hannah only gestured to the gauze again, and Carl began to understand what she was doing for him. Slowly, he took his hat off and placed it down on the gurney beside Hannah. He then turned, his back facing the girl, and began to unravel the old bandaging from around his head. Hannah watched as his hair moved with it, getting caught slightly in the fibers of the material. She then saw him lower his head, unraveling the gauze she had given him. He made a small square and held it to his face, before wrapping a new piece around his head. When he was finished, he turned back to Hannah, who hadn't moved at all.

The first thing she noticed when he turned was the way the gauze was twisted just over his ear, causing it to bunch around the square on his eye. Slowly, Hannah moved closer to Carl, who could only watch her.

"Can I at least fix it," Hannah asked hesitantly, a soft smile on her lips.

Carl nodded. He moved past her, sitting on the gurney she had been leaning on.

Hannah neared the boy, just to the side of his knees, feeling his eyes follow her as she moved. Carefully, Hannah let her fingers fall on the gauze, holding it in place over his eye as she re-wrapped it around his head. When it lay flat, Hannah tucked the end back into itself, carefully so as not to tug on his long hair.

As Hannah finished, Carl looked up at her, and Hannah was forced to look back.

"You're not ugly, Carl," Hannah whispered, not looking away from his brown eyes. Almost immediately, Carl's head turned, embarrassed at her words, but Hannah put her finger to his chin, turning him back to face her. "You're not. I think you're really pretty."

As if to solidify her point, Hannah bent her neck and kissed Carl's cheek. It was soft and warm and smelled so very him.

"So are you," He spoke just as softly as she had.

"Even with this," Hannah mimicked his tone, reaching her fingers to carefully touch the etching on her face. She said it lightly, but Carl could see the truth in her words. He began to regret his words from earlier, not thinking about what they might have meant to her. They were the same, both so deeply messed up, and yet she was beautiful.

He said nothing as he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her soft torso. Like a magnet, Hannah rested her head atop his, feeling his thick, and yet so very soft, hair caressing her neck.

Carl smiled deeply into her chest, breathing in her warm smell, and spoke, "Thank you."

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Hiiiii Loveliessss!! Ahhhhh I really like this part. I have so many exciting chapters planned ahead of this, and I'm so excited to start writing them for next time. I hope you all enjoyed this one!!

Look at our girl making moves! How do we feel about that little moment they had???

Thanks for Reading!

EDIT: For reference, here's some poorly edited pictures of how I imagine Hannah's scar looks

After leaving Carl in the woods, Hannah desperately tried to busy herself with work in the pantry. She focused only on the food in her hands as she placed it on the shelves, meticulously putting each item in its rightful spot. Even when she saw Carl coming through the gate, his head low and his body tired, Hannah kept her eyes down and continued to stock the cans. She didn't want to see him. How could she? He had been so blatantly uncaring. So childish. That was her leader, no matter if she was alive or not, and Carl was playing with her.

On her way home that night, after doing all she could in the pantry, Hannah knew she would need to pass by Carl's house. Part of her wanted to just take the long way, going back behind the church and around all of the houses. But the other part of her, the stronger part she quickly found, wanted to pass by. Part of her needed to see him, even if she didn't want to. She needed to know what had happened. Without a conscious effort, Hannah left the pantry and headed toward the center of town. He might not even be there, she thought. Though, as she got closer, she could already feel the soft warmth of his porch lamp on her skin. She knew he was there.

He was sat on his porch, rocking slightly in a wooden chair, Judith held in his lap. The little girl was wearing a light pink onesie with a familiar blue blanket draped across her lap. She waved at Hannah when she began up the small steps of the porch. Her steps were hesitant, waiting for a sign that this was a bad idea, but Judith continued to babble and reach out to her, completely unaware of the tension. It was a beautiful thing really, the ability to still be naive.

"Hi, honey," Hannah whispered softly with a smile, reaching her hand out to grab Judith's. The little girl's fingers wrapped around her own. Carl still said nothing, though Hannah could hear his soft breathing as he watched the interaction, their bodies too near to each other. His gaze felt heavy on her. With one more squeeze of Judith's tiny fingers, Hannah moved back to lean on the porch railing so that she could see Carl in full now. He finally looked up at her.

"Hey," He said softly.

"Hey," Hannah responded in the same tone. That's how all their serious conversations seemed to start.

"I'm teaching her about the stars," He spoke while looking down at his sister, a soft smile on his lips.

"Yeah?" Hannah gave a light chuckle, "What about 'em?"

"If you look up there," Carl pointed past Hannah, "You can see the North Star, that bright one."

Hannah followed his finger to the sky behind her, and she saw the point. She had heard about the North Star, of course, but she had never seen it this clearly. It was incredible.

"If you ever got lost at night," Carl continued while Hannah's back was turned, "You just find that star, and it'll lead you home."

Hannah sighed lightly before turning back to the boy.

"What happened out there, Carl?" Hannah spoke, her arms crossed over her chest as the wind blew against her back. As nice as the warmth from the lamp was, it was a cold night. Hannah felt the hairs on her arms stand up.

Carl shuffled a little before speaking, "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does."

"It really doesn't, Hannah," He said firmer, shaking his head.

"It does and you know it" Hannah tried to match his voice.

"Why?" Carl spoke louder now, practically cutting her off.

Hannah let her hands rub over her face, feeling the grime of the day transferring to her fingers. She was so tired.

"We should've killed her, Carl," Hannah said as if it was a secret between just the two of them, "You know that. I mean, we saw Spencer out there. He shouldn't have to-- he shouldn't see that. We should have killed it."

"Hannah, you wouldn't understand so just leave it, okay?" Carl couldn't look at her now, his eyes trained just past hers.

Hannah pushed herself off of the railing.

"Why?" She spoke almost desperately now, "Why wouldn't I understand? Tell me. Please."

"I can't, okay. Just leave it."

"Carl I want to know you. I want to understand you. But you have to tell me things."

Carl said nothing as Hannah looked down at him, her brows furrowed. She could see him biting down on his lip, holding in his words. She knew he had something to say. She knew he was scared.

Without speaking, Hannah walked slowly toward Carl. He looked at her as she did, but the atmosphere stayed silent. Next to him, Hannah sat down in another chair, smaller than his own, and pulled her knees up to her chest. She felt the goosebumps that covered her bare arms as she shuffled in the seat.

"Did I ever tell you why I live alone?" Hannah's voice was muffled by the sound of her own hesitance.

"No," Carl spoke, turning his head. Now she was the one who couldn't look at him.

Hannah took in a shivery breath, "I used to live with my parents, you know before I came here. We lived in this little gun shed sorta thing," Hannah let out a soft laugh, "My dad, he wouldn't ever let me touch the guns. He thought it would all be over before I'd have to." Hannah paused, "When they died, I was alone in the shed, balled up in the corner, just listening." Hannah heard Carl's breath hitch, "I finally had to leave when the walkers got there. But I didn't really know where to go, you know?" Hannah's voice began to waver as she spoke, "I was out there for probably two months before I found this place."

"You were alone?" Carl asked softly.

"Yeah," Hannah paused as she thought, "I don't really remember a whole lot about it except for how cold it used to get. But you know that I guess," Hannah turned to Carl now, referencing his own time outside. She knew how he thought of her, how his whole group did. Everyone in Alexandria would always be weak to them, no matter what happened. She didn't blame them necessarily, she knew they'd been outside longer than she had. But it didn't take away from her own suffering, her own memories.

Hannah wiped her eyes and sniffed her nose before continuing, "Anyway, when I got here basically everybody offered to let me stay with them. And I mean, it was really nice of them, but I just couldn't, you know? I'd been on my own for so long that I didn't know who I could trust. And as nice as this place is, it's not normal compared to the outside, compared to what I'd been used to." Hannah paused one more time, "I didn't know how to live in a real home without my parents, either. I couldn't live with someone else again, I just couldn't. I don't know what I would've done if I lost someone I love again," Hannah turned to Carl as she spoke. He watched her patiently as she explained her past to him. When she finished, Carl only nodded softly, resting his head by Judith's. Hannah waited for a reaction. Waited for him to feel sorry for her. Waited for him to tell her to leave. But he said nothing, only looking at her with his head by Judith's.

"I was there when you got shot." Hannah continued into the silence, "I was there, waiting for your dad to get back so you wouldn't be alone. And all I could think about was how little we know about each other." she paused and Carl's head lifted, "But I care about you, Carl. I really do. Why couldn't you kill her?"

Carl moved Judith higher up on his leg, turning his body to face Hannah. He looked straight at her as he began to speak.

"My mom died, a while back. It was before we got here, at a prison. She was pregnant with Judith," Carl paused, looking to Hannah for a sign to keep going. She gave him a sad smile and nodded her head. "Something went wrong. We were stuck in the prison when she went into labor. Maggie, she helped her as much as she could but..." Carl's voice gave out for a moment, "I had to kill her. I didn't want her to turn."

Hannah didn't know what to say.

"It should be someone who loves them, you know?" Carl continued, "Someone who...cares about them," His eyes met Hannah's before speaking, "I'd do it for you."

At that moment, Hannah knew, she'd do it for him too.

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Hiiii Lovelies!! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I know it's just one big conversation but I really wanted to highlight this moment between the two of them. They're opening up to each other yayyy!!! In all seriousness, I hope you all can see their relationship moving further and further along (no matter how long it takes 😂). I promise I have a plan for them!

On the ground not far in front of the path they walked on, Hannah noticed a spot of shimmery blue within the woodland foliage. It was buried beneath vines and twigs, but the color was just bright enough to reflect the sun off of its material.

"Hey, wait," she called out, running from behind Carl toward the hidden object. Carl was startled by her voice, quickly looking to see what she might be running from. When he found nothing of concern, he turned to see Hannah bent over a pile of leaves and twigs.

"It's a balloon," Hannah spoke softly, pulling the full piece of blue material out of the ground. Its helium was long gone by now, lost through the many holes that were punctured into its surface. Hannah let her hand run along the tattered ribbon connected to the bottom of the balloon. Pulling it out farther from the ground, she found that there was a paper attached loosely to the string. She stood from her spot on the ground, feeling Carl's presence close behind her.

"What's it say?" He asks, looking over her shoulder.

Immediately as she pulled it out of the plastic wrap it was sealed in, Hannah knew the paper was soaked. It was limp and damp in her hands as she tried to read the smudged letters that were left on the page.

"I don't know," She sighed, disappointed, "It's all gone."

With that, Carl began moving forward, waving her over with his hand.

"I don't think it's all that old," Hannah said as she came from behind him, adapting to his quick pace. "I mean, we can't really read what they said, but at least they said something, right?"

Carl looked over to Hannah, slowing his pace slightly, "What do you mean?"

"It's a good thing, Carl. It means there're people out there." Hannah said.

"We knew that. We saw it, Hannah," Carl stopped walking, "People died. You got hurt. Just because there are people out here doesn't mean they're good."

There was a pain on Carl's face. His eyebrows were furrowed just slightly, and his lips were tight. Hannah didn't know what to say.

"Just means we're not alone then," She spoke after a beat, continuing to walk, "Whatever that means."

---

The bark was digging into her clothed back as Hannah leaned against a fallen tree, not wanting to walk any farther. Carl was standing not far in front of her, leaning over his bag, pulling out the comics he had brought. As Hannah sat, she flipped the paper over and over again, trying to read what was written. All of the letters were smudged, and incomprehensible, but their spacing was clear. Hannah could see when a word started, when it stopped, and when a new sentence began, but she couldn't understand what any of it said. The whole thing frustrated her. She knew Carl was right before, about them knowing there were others, but she didn't want to believe they were all bad. If someone was trying to reach out, she wanted to know why.

"Hey," Carl breathed out as he sat down next to Hannah, comic book in hand.

"Hey," Hannah said without looking up from the paper.

"Did you find anything?" Carl asked.

"No, it's totally ruined."

Carl only hummed in response.

"But I still think it means something. I mean if they wrote something and took the time to send the balloon out, it had to be important. Right?" Hannah continued.

Carl didn't say anything before gently grabbing the paper from her hands, careful not to damage the fragile thing. Hannah watched him place it to his side before looking back over at her.

"Thank you for inviting me out here," He spoke softly like he wasn't sure he wanted Hannah to hear him. "And I'm sorry about Ron."

"No, Carl-" Hannah tried to cut in.

"No, really. I'm sorry, Hannah. He was your friend."

"He hurt you." It was almost a whisper.

"I just don't want you to feel bad. Like I said, you didn't shoot me."

Hannah paused, "I'm just sorry anyway, Carl."

"I am too."

There was a beat of silence

"I'm glad Daryl is teaching you how to use the bow," Carl continued, "I'm glad you will be safe."

Hannah took in his words, realizing how much closer they now were, before she began speaking.

"I'm really glad you're okay."

"Me too."

---

Hannah still held the balloon in her hand, though she was done trying to read it. It was enough for her to know that they weren't alone. She was about to turn to Carl, wanting to know which comic he had decided to bring, but she heard a noise from farther out in the woods. Both of the kid's heads perked at the crunching of feet, and Hannah stood quickly, turning to hide behind a thick tree nearby. With her hands resting on the bark, Hannah looked to see if Carl had followed behind her, but was met with the sight of him crouched by the fallen tree, his gun drawn.

"Carl!" Hannah shouted in a whisper, "Come on."

Carl waved his hand slightly at his side, whispering back a soft "It's fine" before looking back out to where the noise came from. Hannah dreaded the fact that she hadn't brought her timer. She hadn't even thought of it as they were leaving Alexandria. She was too excited, too confident.

The sound of the creature's feet continued against the path it took, not seeming to care about the noise it was making. Hannah saw Carl stand taller, his shoulders loosening when he finally got a glimpse of the creature. He turned back to Hannah, nodding his head slightly, telling her it was okay to come out. When she did, Hannah could see now that the creature was only Michonne and Spencer walking by, neither of them speaking much to one another.

The two waited for their friends to pass before speaking, both of them knowing how much trouble they might get in if they were caught out here. When they finally passed, Carl sat back down by the fallen tree, but Hannah stayed where she was.

"Maybe we should get going," Hannah said to the back of Carl's head.

"They were just walking. We're fine," Carl didn't look up from his book as he spoke, his voice light and unphased.

"Carl," Hannah spoke again, her voice more certain now.

Carl turned back at this, finally seeing the look in her eyes. "Okay," he said softly and gave her a smile, "It's getting late anyways."

As the two walked through the woods, Carl just in front of Hannah, they heard a low snarling coming from their side. There was a lone walker trudging through the thick woods, stumbling as it walked. Before Hannah could say anything, Carl took out his gun and began towards the creature.

"Carl, wait," She spoke only loud enough that Carl could hear it, "It's just one." Hannah's breath quickened when Carl still moved towards the walker. She knew he could handle himself, especially against a single walker, but it didn't stop her from worrying about his safety. She couldn't see him get hurt again. "Carl--" Hannah tried once more before being interrupted.

"I'm not leaving it out for Michonne." Carl whistled as he neared the walker, gaining its attention. It changed its path at the sound, turning towards the two. When it did, Hannah could now see the face of the walker.

It was Deanna.

"No," She breathed out. It couldn't be Deanna. The Deanna she remembered was more vibrant than this, she was brighter. Hannah was sure the Deanna she remembered was taller than the one standing in front of her, more powerful, more commanding. But as she continued to stare, the environment quiet with her own disbelief, Hannah knew it was true. She could recognize the clothes Deanna had been wearing, the necklace that was still clasped around her neck. The Deanna she remembered was gone. This was what was left.

"Hey," Carl called out to the walker, and Hannah's head snapped toward his, "Hey, come on."

"Carl, what are you doing?" Hannah said in a loud whisper, but Carl only continued to call to the walker. "What are you doing? Stop'" Hannah spoke again.

"Just go," Carl said sternly. Hannah hated the sound of his voice. It was deep and short and mean. It was nothing like she had heard before. She hated it.

"We should kill it before Spencer sees," Hannah tried to reason with the boy, but it only made him angrier.

"Go home."

"Somebody has to do it, Carl. We can't leave it, you said that" Hannah couldn't control the volume of her voice anymore.

"Hannah we can't," His eyes were almost frantic now.

"We have to," Hannah couldn't understand why he refused. He himself had said they shouldn't leave it out here. The more she thought about it, the more the whole situation disgusted her. This was her friend, her leader, and he was playing with her.

Hannah reached out to grab Carl's hand, desperate for him to stop his game, but he shook off her touch immediately.

"Hannah just go home! You shouldn't see her like this!" He was yelling now.

Hannah scoffed at his words, "It's fine Carl, I know what happens," The implication of his words stung more than his actions, "I'm not stupid."

"Hannah, please. Go," Carl said. He was desperate too.

So, Hannah left.

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Heyyyy Lovelies! I really like this chapter because there is just so much emotion between the two. I know it may feel like their relationship isn't moving anywhere, but I promise it is. You'll just have to trust me okay!! I hope you all enjoyed it!

Did you guys pick up on all their little moments in this chapter?? How do we feel about the ending?

After finishing her lesson with Daryl, Hannah realized there was only one thing she wanted to do. She desperately wanted to tell Carl about it. She didn't want to brag to him or make him feel bad for not showing her himself, instead, she just wanted to share something with him. Hannah thought back to the day earlier, how she had tried to muster the courage to see him. It seemed like such a delicate thing to her, visiting him. She had never seen him as vulnerable as he was on that gurney. She hated seeing him like that. From where she was standing, Hannah could see the Grimes house. It had a still, sullen feeling to it. Carl didn't deserve to be holed up there, by himself most likely. Even if he didn't want it, he deserved company.

Hannah once again found herself outside of Carl's house, hands pressed against the wood of the door. After a final moment of contemplation and a deep sigh, Hannah knocked gently on the door, only loud enough for the first floor to hear. She had wanted it to be louder, not knowing if Carl was the only one home, but it proved to be just enough when the door was pulled inward. Rick stood just a few feet in front of Hannah, his eyes tired. Hannah hadn't spoken to him since Carl was hurt. She didn't know what to say.

"Hi, Hannah," Rick spoke with a soft smile on his lips. He pulled the door farther, an invitation to enter. Though, Hannah continued to stand just outside the threshold. If she went in, there was no going back.

"Hi, Rick," She said, finally allowing herself into the house. She had never been inside Carl's home, only being able to see it through the window on the night of Rick's trial. It was just as she expected though, the furniture seemingly untouched, a few photo's pinned to the wall, and a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting on the counter.

Hannah stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of where to go. Rick moved back to where he had been before she nocked, sitting at the counter eating his sandwich.

"Can I get you anything?," He asked across the room, food still in his mouth. This prompted Hannah to move closer, now standing in the kitchen with him.

"No, thank you."

"Are you sure? We've got some fresh strawberries," Rick seemed to know that she hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning. She didn't want to intrude, but she could see that he wanted her to. He wanted to do something for somebody.

"Um," Hannah thought, "Yeah, okay. Thank you."

Rick immediately stood and made his way to the fridge. While he pulled out a small container of strawberries, Hannah sat in the chair, her arms resting on the cool table.

"Here," Rick handed her a small white bowl filled practically to the brim with strawberries. Hannah smiled.

"We had to get rid of 'em anyway," Rick said as he sat down, seeing her face.

The two sat quietly as they ate their food. The strawberries were a little mushy and she could tell they had been in the fridge for a while, but Hannah appreciated it nonetheless.

"Thank you for helping me the other day," Hannah said as she ate, not quite looking Rick in the eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after I fell asleep in the infirmary, I woke up on the couch. I just, I appreciate you doing that for me,"

Rick put his sandwich down on the plate in front of him, looking at her.

"Of course, Hannah,"

After each finishing their food, Hannah offered to clean the dishes for Rick, though he immediately refused.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind," She said.

"It's fine, I promise," Rick chuckled softly at her need to help. He took the plate from in front of her and brought it to the sink, only dropping it in. He turned back, his hands resting on the countertop. There was a short silence.

"You should talk to him," he spoke, almost randomly.

"What?" Hannah asked.

"Carl, he doesn't really talk to me anymore, but I think you should try," Rick clarified.

The admission shocked Hannah. She could see the worry that had been set on his face since that night. He was desperate now.

"Are you sure?" Hannah asked.

Rick wiped his hands across his pants and nodded, giving Hannah a soft, sad smile.

"He likes you, Hannah. I can tell."

---

Hannah had never been in Carl's room. It was odd, seeing as he'd been in hers. It's not like either one of them explicitly said she couldn't be in his room, but he also never offered. However, now Hannah wished she had been there before. Now did not seem like the time to go barging in.

As she walked up the stairs, Hannah took notice of more pictures pinned on the wall. None of the pictures had frames, but each one was tacked into the wall with a push pin. Most of the heads were red or white, but one, holding up a photo of a family, was pinned with a purple tack. Hannah didn't want to snoop, but she knew Carl was in the photo. She had to see it. After quickly checking to see that Rick couldn't see her, Hannah stepped closer to the picture. Now she could see that, similar to her own photo, there were three people: A much younger Rick than the one standing in the kitchen, his beard less scruffy and his eyes brighter; a young boy who Hannah immediately knew was Carl by the hat on his head, the same one he always wore; and a woman who's shoulder Rick has his hand lazily draped over. Hannah looked closer at the woman. She had dark brown hair, not much longer than her own, and a wide, bright smile. Hannah had wondered before about Carl's mother, but it was clear now who she was. She looked just like Carl, Hannah thought. It made her happy to see him like this. This is what he deserved, a nice family, in a nice house, with only smiles on their faces. Never ever blood.

Hannah pulled herself away from the picture. If she didn't talk to Carl now, she was sure she never would. Finding herself in the hallway, Hannah wasn't sure which room was actually his. There were three doors, all exactly the same. None of them had any indication of a child, a young boy, living there. That is until Hannah realized that only one was shut. All of the doors in the hall were at least held slightly open, but the one on the far end was shut completely.

Going up to the door, Hannah let herself knock just slightly. She tried to listen into the room but heard nothing. She knocked again, a little louder this time.

"Dad, it's open!" Carl yelled out from inside. Hannah gasped slightly. She hadn't heard his voice in what felt like forever. It was nice to hear his voice, she thought.

Hesitantly, Hannah reached for the doorknob, turning it as if it was glass. When she stepped in she was met with Carl on his bed, his legs stretched out in front of him, a comic book in his hands. His head was low, his long hair covering the injuries that Hannah knew were there.

"Um, hey Carl," At this, Carl's head snapped up, realizing who had nocked. Now Hannah could see his full face. There was a bandage on his face, much neater than the one she had seen that night. Just as quickly as he had looked up, though, Carl put his head right back into his book. He said nothing.

This was a horrible idea, Hannah thought. Of course he hated her, it was her friend who shot him. She was the one who had started their fight. She was too weak to stop Ron. Of course he hated her. Hannah didn't know where to start. Should she tell him she was sorry? Should she just leave? Why wouldn't he just look at her again?

"Carl? How are you doing?" Hannah cringed at the sound of her voice. It was too soft, too uncertain. Carl didn't respond. "I, uh, I was hanging out with Daryl earlier," She paused, waiting for a reaction, anything, "He, uh, he showed me how to use his bow. It was pretty cool," Carl still said nothing. Now the words began to flow, "It was pretty heavy, you know," Hannah chuckled softly, nervously, "But he, uh, showed me how to hold it and how to load it and all that. And I shot a few apples too." Hannah stopped herself from ranting further, "You would've liked it," She finished quietly. Carl still only looked at his book, not even turning the pages. His jaw was clenched and Hannah could see that his brows were furrowed slightly.

She didn't know what pushed her to do it, what forced her body to move, but Hannah found herself walking towards the bed. Carl didn't move as she sat at the foot of his bed, just as he had the night he came to comfort her. Hannah pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. She could feel Carl's eyes on her now, but she didn't look back. She couldn't.

"I'm really sorry about what happened, Carl," Hannah began to speak again, just above a whisper, "He-- I didn't think he would do that. I didn't think he could." Over the years, Hannah knew Ron had grown angry, but she didn't blame him. But now, she could see the extent of his hurt. Of course, it had shown itself before, back on her porch when he'd yelled at her, but she didn't want to see it then. Maybe, Hannah thought, if she had noticed it then, she could have stopped this. Maybe none of this would have happened.

Hannah jumps slightly when a comic book lands at her side. It had whipped past her right ear and was now laying open on the floor in front of her. Hannah moved to look back at Carl who now held nothing in his hands. He has a small smile on his face, almost mischievous.

"It's not like you shot me."

Hannah gaped a little at this before letting out a shocked chuckle.

"I guess not," was all she could say. Hannah stood from her spot on the ground. The two looked at each for a moment before Hannah saw Carl move over on his bed. It was an invitation that Hannah gladly took. She crawled carefully onto his bed and sat the same as she had on the floor, now with her back against his wall and her shoulder brushing his. Hannah looked at Carl who only picked at his fingers. He didn't know what to say either. But Hannah could tell there was something he wanted to let out.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Hannah spoke, "If you're up for it, I mean. You don't have to."

Carl scratched his face before saying, "Yeah, okay."

Hannah smiled, standing from the bed. Carl followed behind her.

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Hi Lovelies!! We love some pining and angst don't we?? I really enjoyed writing this chapter and the next one will be a continuation so get ready! I hope you all liked it!!

Isn't Rick so sweet sometimes. What do we think about what he said to Hannah???

Hannah was sitting on her gazebo all morning, flipping through the pages of a new book. Michonne had brought her back Little Women from one of her runs. With everything that had been happening, Hannah hadn't had a chance to start it until now. Her eyes followed along the lines. She wanted desperately to distract her mind with the story, and yet the words meant nothing. They were simply letters on a page, staring back into blank eyes. Hannah's mind was too muddled to notice their meanings. That morning was the Anderson's funeral. And Hannah didn't go. She couldn't.

That past night Hannah didn't sleep at all, her mind playing the images of the last few days over and over. She felt sick for feeling bad for Ron. And yet she felt sick for not. How could she still care about the boy who shot Carl? How could she care about the boy who let Enid go out on her own? But how could she not care about her oldest friend? About the family that had been so kind to her? She wanted to hate him, she wanted to despise him for everything he did, but she knew she never could. He had been with her since the beginning. She had needed him then, and she couldn't just forget about that.

Then Hannah thought about Carl. He stayed in his house these past few days, only allowing Michonne or Denise in when necessary. Hannah had tried to visit the day before, but as she reached the door, she turned around. How could she face him, Hannah thought. It was her friend who had hurt him. Did he blame her? The thought caught Hannah off guard. Of course, she had been dancing around the idea, but the words hadn't formed in her mind until then. What if he did blame her? What would that mean?

Hannah felt rotten. She felt like the creatures that lurked outside, preying on innocent people. Neither Ron nor Carl deserved their fate. And, selfishly, Hannah felt that she didn't deserve the pain that came with it either.

She turned from her book when fallen leaves crunched under heavy boots. Coming from behind her, Hannah saw Daryl walking slowly, his head low enough that his long hair covered his face. Hannah thought he might pass the gazebo, ignoring her presence, but instead, he stood right in front of her.

"Hey, kid." His voice was gruff, hesitant.

Hannah wasn't sure what to say. She had heard about what happened outside of Alexandria.

She looked up at him, "Hi."

Daryl maybe nodded his head at her or maybe just flipped his hair out of his eyes. Either way, they could see each other now. He opened his mouth just slightly as if he were going to speak, before closing it just as quickly. He looked away and sighed, only to look back at Hannah.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Um, yeah." Hannah was even more confused now. She had only ever talked to this man once and now he acted like she was a species he had never encountered.

Daryl groaned, tired of the awkward air, "Look, I'm just, I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"What?"

"Denise, she told me what happened here. I told you-- I promised you I would teach you to protect yourself and now you're all messed up."

Hannah understood now why he was so nervous. He felt bad. She shifted in her spot on the steps, feeling like her healing wounds were somehow glowing. Enough days had passed that she was allowed to take the wrap around her forehead off, exposing the ugly markings she was left with. It barely looked like the 'W' Hannah knew it was meant to be. It was shaky and haphazard, with some parts more heavy-handed than others. Some of the lighter marks had begun to fade, leaving dark pink lines where deep red ones had once been. Hannah prayed the rest would follow in their footsteps.

She chuckled softly at Daryl, lightening the mood, "Daryl, that-- that's not your fault."

He pursed his lips slightly and nodded once more before turning to leave. Before he got too far, Daryl turned back to face her.

"You comin'?" He called out as if it was obvious for her to follow.

Hannah tucked the photo into her page and put the book to the side of her, "What do you mean?"

Daryl gave her a soft smile, "Well, I can't let you get beat up again."

---

Hannah and Daryl made their way just outside of the walls. The sky was somewhat gloomy as they walked, still full of debris from the fallen watch tower. She followed behind Daryl, who didn't say much as they walked, only occasionally warning her about fallen branches or large tree roots. When he stopped, Hannah realized they had ended up by a small creek. She had seen it once when she went out with Carl and Enid, but she never thought to get any closer.

Daryl left her, heading for a nearby tree to place his things. He pulled his bow off his back, balancing it against the trunk of the tree.

"So, you ready?" he asked, causing Hannah to look toward him.

"Yeah, I guess. I never really shot a gun before," She chuckled nervously. She really hadn't. When everything first happened, her father was the only one with a gun. It was a small handgun, scratched up along the handle from use. He had found it on the ground not far from their shed, likely having been dropped by whoever took the rest of the weapons. Hannah asked him once if she could use it, though already knowing what he would say. He told her, as she expected, that she didn't need to know things like that, that this would all be over before she ever needed it.

"A gun? You ain't shooting a gun." Daryl said. Hannah's face must have given away her confusion. "I'm gonna teach you how to shoot a bow." Daryl now gestured to the bow he had placed down a moment ago. The confusion on Hannah's face swiftly turned into a wide smile as she moved towards Daryl and his bow, ready for her lesson.

They started by simply trying to get her used to the weight of the weapon. Hannah didn't want to admit it at first, but Daryl saw the way her arms struggled to hold it up for long. He moved in, taking off pieces of the crossbow that Hannah couldn't name, then handing it back to her.

"There," He said, "better to learn on the barebones anyway."

After allowing Hannah to adjust to the feeling of the bow, Daryl went back to the tree where he had left his things and rummaged through his bag. While she waited for him, Hannah noticed the bow was already loaded with a bolt.

Daryl then walked past the girl, something red in his hands. Hannah watched as he placed a rather small apple onto a log not too far from her.

"Alright pull this part back," Daryl motioned at the arrow when he came back to Hannah's side. She reached forward, gripping the bolt and waiting for a click. When she heard it, Daryl continued.

"Good. Now here's the safety. Only turn it off when you're ready to shoot." Daryl flipped the switch on the back of the weapon, "And always keep your finger off the trigger unless you're shooting, got it?"

"Okay," Hannah breathed out, focusing on the feeling of the trigger hovering underneath her finger.

"Right, now stand a little wider, kid. You're gonna fly back if you don't."

Hannah spread her stance, planting her feet firmly into the grass beneath her. Daryl raised the bow slightly, now lining the scope with her right eye.

"Line the cross up with the apple," Daryl said once the bow was at the right height. Hannah took a moment, acclimating to the new view. Finally, Hannah saw the red fruit through the scope.

"I've got it," Hannah murmured, mostly to herself.

"Now you just gotta pull the trigger," Daryl stepped back, giving Hannah the space to shoot.

She breathed in a deep breath through her nose, and let it come softly out of her mouth. Her mind seemed to race as it had before on the gazebo. Still, she let her finger meet the trigger, wincing slightly at the force of the bow when it released the arrow. Hannah let out a breathy laugh. When she moved the bow away from her, Hannah saw that her arrow had missed the apple. Instead, it was stuck in the ground just by the log, buried in the dirt.

Daryl must have seen her disappointment, and he quickly started for the failed bolt. Hannah watched as he pulled it from the ground, not wanting to make a sound. She'd really thought she had hit it. She had heard the soft breath come out of Daryl's mouth, silently letting her know he believed in her. She didn't want him to be wrong.

"Here, kid," Daryl handed Hannah the bolt, helping her slide it into place.

"Sorry,"

Daryl looked up at Hannah, "Why're you sorry?"

"I just-- I thought I would hit it," Hannah told the man.

Daryl stepped away once the bow was set up again and sighed. "You'll hit it."

This time, as Hannah readied her finger over the trigger, she tried to calm her mind. She breathed in just like before, but this time she focused only on the metal in her hands. She felt its weight, its power. Then, centering the cross on the apple once more, Hannah released the bolt.

"There ya go!" She heard Daryl call out before even realizing she had pierced the apple. She looked to see that she had indeed hit it, just like Daryl said.

For the next hour or so, Daryl continued to set up apples on the log, showing her different stances to take or having her move to different angles. Out of the 12 he set up, Hannah hit 9 right in their core.

"That was real good for your first time," Daryl spoke as he packed up his things, preparing to head back to Alexandria.

Hannah chuckled lightly, "Thanks. I guess you're a good teacher."

"Damn right I am," Daryl said without looking up, causing Hannah to laugh lightly.

While Daryl worked on his things, grabbing the extra arrows and cleaning the dirt off of their tips, Hannah sat on the ground next to the tree.

"Here, kid, put this in that bag would ya?" Daryl tossed Hannah an apple that still had an arrow stuck into its core. It was the first one she had hit. The sentiment made Hannah smile.

"Thank you," she said softly when Daryl came closer, "For everything, really."

He looked over at her but didn't speak.

"I appreciate you coming out here and teaching me all these things, you know?"

"I shoulda done it sooner," Daryl spoke softly, almost so much so that Hannah couldn't hear, "I shoulda been there," Daryl said those words again and Hannah saw the genuine regret in his eyes.

"It's okay, really. I should have been able to handle it." Hannah stood up from the ground, "I did handle it."

"You did, but you shouldn'ta had to"

Hannah didn't know what to say.

"You're strong, Hannah," Daryl continued, looking at her now.

"You think?"

"Yeah, kid, I do."

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Hey Loveliessss! I really wanted the first real interaction between Daryl and Hannah to be as good as it could be (though I'm still not in love with how it turned out). I know Carl wasn't really in this chapter either, but I thought it might be nice to have a sweet chapter between all the craziness to come. I hope you all enjoyed it!!

How do we feel about Daryl and Hannah's friendship??

No matter how beautiful that morning had been, nothing was okay.

After Gabriel took Judith back to his church, the group began towards the quarry for their cars, knowing it would be no use to try and get to the armory.

Hannah could see the fear on Rick's face as he watched Gabriel leave with his daughter. To the side of her, Carl was also watching the man. His face was hard and serious, but there was obvious worry in his eyes. Hannah didn't know exactly what happened to Judith and Carl's mom, but it was clear Carl was the one to watch over his sister in her absence. She meant everything to him.

Slowly, Hannah put her hand into Carl's, looping their fingers together. With a deep breath, he finally looked away from his sister and down at their intertwined hands.

"She'll be okay," Hannah whispered, only loud enough for Carl to hear. He gave her a soft smile and nodded his head, holding her hand a little tighter. Next to him, Carl then reached out for Ron to hold his other hand. Ron turned and looked hesitantly at the invitation. After a moment though, Ron took the boy's hand. He moved his eyes to Hannah before looking back down and following along with the rest of the group as they began their journey.

It grew dark as they walked, chained to each other like children. Scared children. The walkers hadn't noticed them yet, but every time they neared one of the creatures, Hannah felt everyone's breathing stop and their bodies go stiff. Hannah knew Sam was scared. He watched the walkers with wide eyes, inspecting each one like prey pleading with its predator. Jessie had wanted him to go with Gabriel to the church in order for him to be safe, but he insisted he could stay. He insisted that he was strong enough. And Hannah so wanted to believe that he was. She wanted to believe they would all be strong enough to do this.

Hannah knew Carl was also scared, though it was different than Sam. He was scared for the group, for his family. He was scared for her. She knew it from the way his hand was clamped around hers, becoming an iron grip whenever a walker got too close. The way he let her lean on him when the pain in her side became too much. It started to hurt, how tight Carl was holding onto Hannah. She tried to squeeze back, letting him know that it was okay, but nothing changed.

"Carl, that's really tight," Hannah whispered back to the boy, a small smile along her lips. He immediately loosened his hold.

"Sorry," He whispered back, "I'm sorry."

Hannah squeezed back one final time. It was alright.

As they continued to walk, Hannah could see Sam becoming more nervous. She tried to follow where he was looking, but his eyes were moving too quickly. It wasn't until he broke from his mom's grasp that Hannah realized what scared him so much. There was a boy, a walker, who had to have been only a little younger than Sam, walking just ahead of them.

Sam's breathing grew fast as he frantically looked around him, his surroundings finally seeming to set in.

"Sam?" Jessie spoke quietly, "Sweetheart, come on."

"Hey, hey Sam, come on," Rick tried too, his voice gruff.

Nothing could force the boy away from the horror in front of him.

"Sam, hey you can do this, just look at mom, okay?" Hannah heard Ron try from behind her and Carl. There were tears in his eyes now.

"Sam, please," Hannah began to speak too, trying desperately to get the boy back in the group, "Sam, you're okay, remember?" He looked briefly at Hannah before looking back to his mom.

"I want to," He whimpered, "Mom, I want to."

Hannah's hand flew out of Carl's and to her mouth as she watched Sam be devoured by the creatures. They grasped at his head and his neck and his body, pulling at any flesh they could find. He screamed as they tore into him. The boy she had cared for, the boy she had watched grow up, was being eaten right in front of Hannah, and there was nothing she could do. Her throat shut, forcing her screams to stay down. Her own beating heart was drowned out by the sound of Jessie's wails as she watched her son. Both Rick and Carl tried to move her away from the scene, but Jessie was frozen in her horror. Hannah tried to pull away as Jessie too was devoured, but her grip was solid. The woman's nails dug into the flesh of her palm as the walkers moved from Sam to her. On the other side of Hannah, Carl pulled her towards him, desperately trying to help her escape the woman's grasp. His arms wrapped around her waist, but Jessie's hold was too fierce. Her arm, on the same side as her wounds, was too weak to pull away on her own, and Hannah was left at the mercy of the dying woman.

"Dad!" She could hear Carl call out, and then the sound of hacking. Rick had pulled his axe out and was slamming it into Jessie's wrist, finally freeing Hannah's hand. Carl moved quickly to help her stand, pulling her up into his arms. When she was on her feet, Carl let go of the girl, allowing her to turn to find Ron. Before she could, they heard the click of a gun.

"You," Ron spoke through his teeth. His mother's gun was in his hands, pointed at Rick who could only stare back in shock. "You," Ron said again.

Hannah felt her heartbreak at the sight of her friend. She tried to call out to him, tried to tell him to stop, but her throat was still closed. She was silent as Michonne stabbed Ron with her katana, silent as his bullet still rang out.

It was over. Ron was dead.

"Dad?" Carl spoke softly, his voice almost breathy. Hannah turned to see Carl fall into his dad's arms, his face red with blood.

It was over.

---

When she first met him, Hannah was scared. He was intimidating and mean, and he made it clear he didn't like her people. He thought they were weak. He thought she was weak.

Looking back, Hannah didn't understand how she could ever have been scared of him. He was so kind. His laugh was soft and light, like her father's, but captivating in a way Hannah would never understand. She loved seeing him laugh. She loved making him laugh.

Rick had immediately turned around after they brought him in, going back out to finish off the walkers. The rest of the group followed after him, leaving just Denise and Hannah at his bedside.

Instantly, Hannah ran to find any supplies she could, desperately searching for something that would save him. Her hands rummaged through gauze, bandaids, and tape, grabbing at anything that looked remotely helpful.

Denise began to work on his eye, suturing around where the bullet had entered.

Hannah couldn't breathe.

They had just been fighting. She had been yelling at him about something she couldn't remember anymore. Ron, she realized. Her stomach churned at the thought. Ron was dead. He was shot. Ron shot him.

Hannah threw up.

She couldn't stand the sight of the blood that covered his face. It was sticky and matted. His long hair stuck to it like glue and her fingers begged to free it. When Denise finished working, she stepped away from him, and Hannah didn't know what to do. She had been sitting on the same couch she had been laid on not too long ago, waiting for it all to be over. When Denise turned to her, Hannah felt scared. She had watched the woman the entire time, and yet she was scared. He was dead, she thought. He was dead and he was going to disappear right in front of her. He was going to become one of them.

Denise put her hand on Hannah's shoulder, pulling her into a soft hug.

"Go talk to him," was all she said. So, Hannah did.

He was now on a bed, his eye wrapped in the gauze she had given to Denise. She sat down on a chair next to him, quietly, as if not to wake him up. Hannah knew he wasn't asleep though, not really. No, when he was asleep he didn't look like this. When he was asleep he had a sort of smile on his face. It was soft, almost invisible, but Hannah could remember how it had looked. He wasn't smiling now. His face was tight like he was in pain. Denise had given him medicine for that but Hannah knew it could only do so much.

With a light hand, as if he might crack, she let her finger run over his eyebrows, smoothing over the crease between them. When it softened, Hannah smiled a breath of relief and sat back.

"Hi," She breathed out, "Can you hear me, Carl?" Of course, he didn't answer. "I'm so sorry, Carl. I didn't think he would do that, I didn't think--" She didn't know what to say, "I'm just so sorry."

Hannah watched the way his chest rose and fell with each word she spoke.

"I'm sorry I was mad at you, okay?" Hannah continued, "It's not fine, alright? Nothing is fine. I just wanted you to talk to me, I just wanted you to let me in," She breathed in, "I don't really know anything about you, you know? And I guess you don't know much about me either," Hannah chuckled lightly, "But I want you to. And I want to know about you. Anything you'll tell me. Anything at all."

"You mean a lot to me, Carl," Hannah spoke very softly now, "Okay? You're my best friend I think. And maybe I'm not your's, I don't know. But you're not allowed to just come here and make me feel things for you and then leave. You can't do that, Carl. It's not fair," Hannah was crying now as she leaned over the bed. She drew her hand back up to his face, careful around the gauze, and moved his hair to the side. Most of the blood was gone now, Denise had wiped it away, but there was still a little left on his cheeks. Pulling her sleeve around her hand, Hannah gently wiped both the blood and her own tears off of his skin.

She stayed by his side the whole time, waiting for Rick to come back in. She hadn't wanted to fall asleep, but by the time Rick arrived, she was unconscious, her head resting next to his son's hand. Rick gently lifted her out of the chair and carried her to the sofa, letting her stretch out in her sleep.

That night, as Rick talked to his son, Carl's hand wrapped around his father's.

It was over.

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Hi Loveliess! Wow, that was hard to write. I really hoped you all liked it though! I wanted to talk a little bit about Hannah and Ron now that he's gone. Like I've said before, Hannah does not like Ron in a romantic way. I'm kinda leaving it ambiguous whether Ron actually likes Hannah or just feels protective of her, but that's beside the point. I just wanted to say that Hannah is definitely gonna feel some sort of way toward Ron's death. I didn't love how in the show they moved on really quickly from it. Although this is a Carl fic, Hannah has known Ron and his family much longer than she's known him, and I don't want to have her just forget about them immediately. I hope that makes sense and that everyone is okay with it, I just feel like I shouldn't continue without having Hannah think about it at least a little bit yk? Also, I just love Austin Abrams :)

How do we feel about Hannah's "convo" with Carl???

Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham were all still Outside, trying to lead the herd from Alexandria. Glenn was still missing. Enid was still gone. And yet, as Hannah watched the bundle of green balloons float into the sky, she finally felt that things might be okay. At least, something would go right.

Carl had slept over that night, which Hannah was still surprised by. When she woke, she expected to see that the boy had left early in the morning, or even immediately after she had fallen asleep. Hannah wouldn't have blamed him, she thought, it would be hard to explain to Rick why he was there. But despite her doubt, Hannah woke to Carl quietly breathing at the foot of her bed, his head slumped against his shoulder and his arms crossed over his chest.

Hannah reached out hesitantly, letting her hand fall on just his shoulder, and gently tapped him. He stirred slightly before opening his eyes.

"Good morning," Carl said, sleep still in his voice.

"Good morning," Hannah smiled back.

The morning had been so nice. It was bright and the sky was clear. Hannah wanted to stay in this moment, all of Alexandria watching the sky, hope just within reach. But like Glenn's balloons, that hope floated away when the watch tower fell.

Hannah ran with Carl as it crashed into the fence, causing a great cloud of dust to fly into the air. The force of the fall seemed to reverberate across the ground, forcing everyone to stumble at the impact. Through the static sound, Hannah heard a deep growling coming from the now-fallen panel. She knew the walkers had gotten in.

"Everyone, get back! Get into your houses! Go!" Rick yelled before firing his gun at the horde.

Carl gripped her hand, pulling Hannah with him as he ran.

"Carl!" Michonne yelled to the two, coming up to meet them. Gabriel hurried behind her, a blood-stained machete in his hand. Carl only let go of Hannah to wave Michonne towards them, grasping her hand again when they all met.

"My dad!" Carl yelled to Michonne as both a question and a statement. The woman used her katana to point toward where Hannah could now see both Rick and Deanna, who was limping in the former's arms, shooting at walkers. They all crossed over town to get to the other group, keeping an eye on the incoming heard.

"Hannah! Hannah?" Hannah heard coming from nearby. She looked to see that Ron was alone, stumbling in front of a group of walkers.

"Ron, come on!" She yelled back to the boy, "Hurry up!" The girl felt Carl's grip loosen slightly as if to give her permission to help her friend, but, unconsciously, she squeezed tighter. Ron finally met up with the group as Carl reunited with his dad. They raced towards Carl and Rick's house, and Hannah could feel the stitches in her side straining with her movements. The burn sent a hiss to her lips, and she begged herself to move faster. The sounds of the walkers began to drown out Hannah's pain, and she could see their safety in the distance. Suddenly, Hannah felt herself trip over something, sending her out of Carl's grip and onto the road below them. She looked to see that just behind her, the fallen corpse of a walker was splayed on the ground, its disconnected arm laying in her path. Hannah pushed herself to her feet, but the pain in her side came back stronger. She moved slowly, too slowly. From the side of her, Hannah could see another creature closing in. Its arms were stretched out, reaching for her. The rest of the walkers began to circle the group, closing in around them. The walker grabbed at Hannah, its broken limbs swinging as it did. She kicked at the walker's weak legs, knowing she had no real weapon to protect herself. The walker stumbled with the impact, leaning closer into Hannah's arms. With a quick and heavy movement, Hannah threw her elbow into its neck and kicked it off of her body, allowing her to get back into the group.

Before the circle of walkers could get too close, the sound of a gunshot rang out and Hannah turned to see Jessie creating a path for them.

"Come on! I have Judith!" she yelled, before turning to run inside with them.

They finally made it into Ron's house. Hannah helped move Deanna as the rest of the group ran to lock the doors. Deanna yelled out in pain as Rick stretched her body over the couch, and Hannah quickly went into the kitchen, desperate to find anything that looked like the tools that had been used in the infirmary. As she hurried down the hallway, Hannah passed a wide-eyed Sam, frozen as he watched what was happening.

"Sam? Hey," Hannah said hastily as she bent down to the boy, shaking him out of his shock. "Sam, you're okay. Look at me," Sam immediately turned to her, his eyes still glazed and big, "Just stay in here, okay? Just wait for your mom to come back, yeah?" Hannah waited for a response, anything, but he only turned and headed to his bed, sitting on the edge.

Hannah wanted to comfort the boy, but she heard Michonne call from the other room, "Hannah! Where're those scissors?"

She gave Sam one last look before grabbing the scissors she had found in the kitchen and running back to Deanna.

When she arrived in the room, Michonne stepped away from Deanna's side and explained that they had found a bite mark. She looked to Deanna, questioning whether it was true, and she nodded back. Deanna seemed so calm at the moment, but Hannah saw the pain in her first leader's face. Slowly, almost cautiously, Hannah approached the side of the couch, kneeling down to Deanna's height.

"I'm so sorry," Hannah whispered. Deanna only watched her for a moment before reaching up slowly to wipe the small tear that began to form in the girl's eyes. Hannah sniffled at the contact, leaning into her hand as Rick and Michonne stepped out of the room.

"Don't be sad," Deanna spoke softly, "I spoke to Michonne, she'll take care of you. They all will."

"You don't deserve this," was all Hannah could say, pulling the hand that was on her face and holding it in her own.

"I could have been better," Deanna smiled sadly, "You will be so much better than me, Hannah." This made the girl's tears fall harder. She didn't want to have to be better, she just wanted everything to be normal again. She wanted her home back. "You're gonna be so strong, I know. You're gonna be so brave." Deanna paused, "But, remember where this started, okay? Remember Before."

Hannah sat with Deanna for a while, talking quietly with her, keeping her company as they waited for Michonne to return. Before she could, though, a mixture of screams and crashes sounded from the floor below them. Hannah stood quickly, turning to the window above the couch. She could see the walkers outside turn towards the house, drawn in by the sound. She went for the door, before turning to Deanna, not wanting to leave her on her own.

"Go," The woman spoke, "I'm strong too."

When Hannah got downstairs, she found Rick and Jessie banging on the door to the garage, yelling for their kids. Rick turned to grab his axe, hitting the lock on the door. When it finally opened, Carl and Ron rushed out of the room, immediately going to block the door. Hannah ran over as well, pushing her uninjured side into the wood as the walkers pushed back. Next to her, Carl grunted and she searched his face. He was more exasperated than he should have been, and yet he made no move to show her more than that.

"Watch out!' Rick called, carrying a sofa and holding it against the door. "We need more, and we need to be quiet,"

Hannah moved away from the couch, but before she could leave them, she looked to Carl once more. She knew something was wrong, that something had happened in there. But he only nodded at her slightly, telling her exactly what she needed to know. So, Hannah left the group, running to the living room to find more blockades for the door. When there was nothing big enough in the living room, Hannah decided to go upstairs, remembering that Ron had a heavy table by his bed. She passed through the hallway, looking quickly into each room for something helpful. When she found Ron's room, Hannah heard talking coming from inside. Though he spoke quietly, she knew it was Carl, and she immediately opened the door.

The two boys were staring at each other, an unwavering sense of tension palpable in the room. In Carl's hand, he held out a gun and pointed at the boy across from him.

"Carl!" Hannah let out, stepping further so the two boys could see her.

"Hannah," Ron breathed out when he noticed her.

"Carl, what's going on? What are you guys doing?" Hannah spoke to only Carl, who now had his gun hidden in his pocket.

"It's fine, " He said, not looking away from Ron.

"Carl," Hannah said louder this time. Carl let his eyes close before he turned to her, and Hannah could see now how fast he was breathing. She softened her expression, only mouthing an incoherent 'what?' to the boy.

Ron scoffed lightly, almost so much so that Hannah didn't hear it. She turned to him now and there were tears in his eyes. They too stared at each other, and Hannah shook her head without hesitation. She watched as Ron brushed past her and Carl, leaving them alone in the room. It was silent, save only for the sound of the door closing.

"Hannah, he--" Carl started.

"Carl, what the hell happened?" She was angry now.

"He tried to kill me, Hannah!"

Hannah went to sit on the unmade bed that was near them, "Oh my god," she muttered before letting her head fall into her hands. She heard Carl approach her, his footsteps hesitant as he did.

"I'm sorry, okay. I know he's your friend." Hannah shot her head up at that.

"No that's not," She sighed before continuing, "I just--are you okay? What happened, Carl?"

Carl moved in front of her now, looking down at her as she stared. He opened his mouth slightly, then furrowed his brow and closed it again.

"I'm fine. It's fine. Really."

Hannah shut her eyes as he had earlier, breathing out softly. Carl wouldn't tell her.

"Your side is bleeding again," Hannah looked up and Carl pointed at the side where she had fully pulled her stitches after fighting with the walker. She touched the stained fabric that covered it, finding that it was soaked through with her blood.

"I'm fine. It's fine."

---

They were all huddled upstairs as Rick explained to everyone what the plan was. The group was going to go through the mob to get to the armory, blending into it using the guts of two other walkers. They cut up some sheets Jessie kept in a closet, as if they were ponchos, and began to spread the foul material over themselves, hiding their scent beneath it.

Hannah scrunched her face as she reached into a pile of blood and guts, rubbing it onto the cloth. It felt too warm, too soft. The repulsive smell traveled up to her nose, forcing her to gag into her blood-covered shoulder. She shuddered at the feeling when it transferred onto her skin, but continued to cover herself.

"Do you want me to get your back?" Carl spoke hesitantly.

Hannah chuckled at the absurdity of the situation.

"Yeah, thanks," she said, turning her back to Carl. He gently moved his hands across her back, moving her hair to the side as he did.

When Carl finished, Hannah turned back to him. She stared into his face, watching a trickle of smeared blood drip down his cheek.

"What?" Carl smiled at Hannah, noticing her look.

She smiled back, "You have something on your face." She reached a clean hand up, catching the drip in her fingers and rubbing it off onto her own poncho.

"Mom?" Sam spoke from the doorway. Hannah didn't blame the way his eyes frantically searched over their bodies.

Jessie hurried over to Sam, "You need to listen to me, okay? We aren't safe here anymore. Okay, we have to do this so we can be safe out there. We need to look like the monsters."

"No, mom please, no," Sam whined.

"Yes, honey, we have to go, okay?" Jessie's voice was tight as she spoke, "We have to, Sam. Just pretend you're not afraid. Just-- pretend you're somebody who isn't afraid, okay? Pretend none of this is real."

Through his tears, Sam nodded.

Hannah saw that Ron's head was down, his chest moving quickly. She smiled over at Sam, motioning for him to come over, and she began to cover him in the guts as well.

Now they were just like the monsters.

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Hi Loveliess! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Ik it might be a little boring but I didn't want to put the whole two episodes into one chapter. I had so much fun rewatching the episode while writing this. Season 6 is definitely one of my favorites!

How do we think Hannah's going to react to what comes next...?

JSS

That's what the note said. Just survive somehow. He couldn't believe she left. He'd known she'd wanted to, and he knew she would, but he couldn't believe she actually left. Enid knew how that would make everyone feel. She knew how dangerous it was. And yet she left anyway. God, how was he going to tell Hannah? Where was she? Carl knew that wherever she was, she would feel that she should have been with them. That she should have done something to make her friend stay.

A timer rang out from the kitchen and it brought Carl back to the woods. He had been so scared that day. He would have never admitted it, but being back in the woods, back outside; it was a lot. He would be lying if he said that it wasn't nice to be back in that open space again though, feeling like he knew what he was doing, that he was back to his normal. But when that horde had shown up, Carl was reminded of what it meant to be outside. He was back to living only to survive.

When Hannah threw her timer out, it took Carl by surprise. Maybe he could have expected Enid to do something like that, there was definitely more she knew than what she let on, but not Hannah. If he was being honest, Carl didn't like her very much when they first met. She was too happy, too eager. He knew she had been excited to show the group around that first day, he could see it in her eyes. Sure, she looked nervous as well, but she genuinely wanted to be kind to them. That was new for Carl. Having just come from Terminus, he couldn't be sure that anything was genuine anymore, none of them could. And yet, somehow, he believed her.

When they began hanging out more, especially after that night at the party, Carl realized there was more to her than he had thought. Hannah wasn't like some of the other Alexandrians. She wanted to be strong. She was trying to be. The more Carl thought about it, the more he liked to see her try. That night he had seen her from his window, hiding from the rest of the group during his dad's trial, he had felt somewhat proud. He was glad to see that she had it in her to defy the rules, that maybe, just maybe, she cared about his group enough to do it. When Daryl had offhandedly mentioned that he was planning on giving her lessons on protection, Carl couldn't help but smile a little. At first, he thought it was funny, a girl like her spending time with a guy like Daryl, but he soon realized it was a good thing. Carl was glad that she would be able to protect herself, that she would be safe.

Safe.

After finding Enid's note, Carl had gone to find Hannah. He didn't want her to hear about it from someone else, someone like Ron. It wasn't that he hated Ron, he understood why the boy was always so angry. In some ways, he had a right to be. But Carl didn't like the way he so obviously felt toward him. He didn't want to think about what he could be saying to Hannah when they were together. If he was trying to make her hate him too. Was he ruining her? Carl had thought later that day after Ron yelled at them. Was it his fault she was getting stronger? Was that such a bad thing? He used to think they were together, Hannah and Ron. When he found out that Ron was with Enid, he felt relieved. Carl knew Ron hated him because he spent so much time with his girlfriend, but deep down, Carl also knew it was because he spent time with Hannah. Carl knew they had been friends for a long time, maybe at some point more than that. He didn't want that to be true, but he knew it was possible. All he could do was ignore the idea and continue to hang out with her, no matter what Ron thought. As long as she wanted to be with him, Carl would be by her side.

When Carl arrived at Hannah's house, he immediately knew something was wrong. The door was left ajar and there was blood on the grass outside. He had slowly entered the home, his gun drawn, to find that everything was broken. There were large shards of glass, fallen furniture, and smears of blood decorating the floors. Oh my god, he thought, she was dead. That was his first thought. He knew, logically, that she wasn't dead. He would have known if she was, it would have been more obvious. He would have seen her body somewhere, or someone would have told him on his way there. But as he cleaned up the glass on the floor, and wiped up the drying blood, there was always a worry in the back of Carl's mind that he was cleaning a dead person's home. That his best friend was dead.

He'd always thought it was weird that she lived alone. He asked Enid about it once, but all she told him was that it was because Hannah wanted to. Why would she want to, he had thought. Sure, he could understand wanting time on your own, he understood that more than anyone, but he didn't understand wanting to be alone. When Carl saw Hannah sitting on her porch later that night, slowly rocking back and forth with her eyes closed, he had the same looming feeling that something was wrong. She tried to brush him off, practically begging him to leave. But in her eyes, in the way she wrung her hands together, she begged him to stay. When they went inside, Carl was infinitely glad he had cleaned when he did. He saw the way Hannah's eyes were stuck on the places he'd missed, and his heart hurt for her. Carl hated to see her like this, sad, and vulnerable. The way she held her side as she walked, or kept her head turned just far enough that he couldn't see the blood seeping through her bandages. He wished desperately that he'd spent more time on the blood in the grass or in putting her chairs in the places they were originally. But all he could do was grip her hand tighter and lead her up the stairs.

"Let's just go upstairs, okay?"

He wanted to stay that night, he really, really did. But he didn't want to intrude. If she truly did like being alone, he would respect that. He knew he might never understand everything about her, and that might just be one of those things. When he'd reached for the door, he didn't expect Hannah to speak. He didn't expect her to ask him to stay. He had thought about it for a moment, giving her time to change her mind. But he could hear, the moment he slumped at the side of her bed, the relief Hannah let out. Carl knew it was right that he stayed. Even if she said she wanted it, Hannah didn't deserve to be alone. No one did.

Together, they would survive. 

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Heyyy Lovelies!! Ok, I know this chapter is shorter than my others but I wanted to give you all a look into where Carl's mind is right now. You all mean so much to me and I hope you like this little bonus chapter! I will continue to post from Hannah's pov but I thought you might find this interesting.

I absolutely love when you guys interact so please don't be scared to comment on these chapters! I would love to hear your thoughts!

Holly died that evening. It didn't matter how hard Denise tried, she had just lost too much blood. Hannah knew how hard Denise would take it before it even happened. While a flat beeping sound played in the background, Denise asked them all to leave, allowing her and Tara a moment. Hannah was glad they each had someone to lean on.

Hannah walked cautiously outside, moving slowly so as to not disturb her injuries. She just wanted to get home. She would go inside, clean up whatever mess was left over from the fight, and lie down. She didn't want to look at herself, she didn't want to see the bloodstained clothes and sticky gauze that she now wore. When Hannah reached her door, however, she paused. Was she ready to go back inside? Of course, she was, Hannah thought, nothing bad had really happened to her. She had seen people die for God's sake, she could push herself inside her own home. She could be strong enough. Hannah gripped the door handle tightly and turned, coming face to face with Carl Grimes.

Hannah let out a gasp, "Carl?"

He stood still in front of Hannah, his body bent down slightly by the nearby window. In his hands were shards of fallen glass, scooped neatly into small piles in his soft palms.

"Hannah," He stood quickly now as if he was surprised to see her in her own home.

"Carl, how did you get in here?" That was all Hannah could think to say, suddenly more conscious of her appearance.

"I just," Carl deposited the pile of glass into a new pile on the windowsill, "I heard what happened. I just wanted to check on you, see if you were okay." He wiped his hands on his dark jeans.

"Oh," Hannah spoke. She hadn't expected that.

"So are you?" Carl moved closer now, stepping away from the window, "Are you okay?" His eyes were filled with a genuine concern that Hannah hadn't recognized. Though, as she continued to stare at him, Hannah found that it was the same look he had given her in the woods. It was comforting.

"I'm fine, Carl." She moved past the boy.

"You got stabbed," He said, somewhat exasperated now.

"I know," Hannah said without turning, "but I'm fine now."

"Hannah--" Carl started.

"I need to clean up, okay?" She turned to him.

Carl gestured to the window slightly, "I already started. It was crazy when I got here."

That was it for Hannah. He had come to her house and cleaned for her. He went to check on her and, when she wasn't home, he cleaned for her. Hannah didn't know what to say. Hannah didn't know what that meant.

"Carl I," She paused, sighing, "Thank you, really. But you didn't have to do that. You should go be with Judith. Or your dad. I'm sure he needs help. I'm just gonna go rest, okay."

"Alone?" Carl said simply.

"Yes?"

"Well, what if something happens?"

"Carl--"

"No, I'm serious. Just, just stay with me for a little bit. I have to go talk to Ron anyway. Come with me. Please."

"Carl, you really don't have to do that. I'll be fine." Hannah tried to convince both the boy and herself.

"I want you to." His eyes were serious.

Hannah thought about it.

"Okay."

---

Carl explained to Hannah that Enid left just before the attack. She wasn't exactly surprised, she always knew that one of Enid's trips would end with her not coming back. But, admittedly, Hannah hadn't expected it to happen so soon. Carl told her that he planned on going out to look for Enid, something Hannah herself had thought about when he told her.

They found Ron sitting just outside the gazebo, running his knife in and out of the ground, pulling up dirt as he did so.

Carl approached the boy, Hannah standing just behind him. Ron looked up at the two of them and she could tell he was angry. For a moment, though, when he saw the bandages that covered Hannah's stitches, she saw his eyes soften.

"You okay?" Carl asked and Ron's face turned angry once again.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He spoke with sarcasm heavy in his voice. Hannah couldn't help but scoff lightly.

"Have you seen Enid?" Carl continued.

"Not since I seen her with you," He said with an accusatory tone.

"Ron," Hannah spoke softly. She knew why he was upset with Carl. She knew that he had never liked Carl very much, especially not after he started hanging out with Enid and her. But that didn't give him the right to be rude right now. Both of the boys ignored her, though.

"Look, I think she went over the wall just before the herd came, and now she's stuck out there."

"What makes you think she isn't dead?" Ron shook his head stiffly.

"Ron, stop it," Hannah spoke louder now stepping closer to the boy on the ground.

"Come on, man" Carl added.

Ron scoffed at them, shaking his head as he stood up, putting the knife he had been playing with in his pocket.

"I'll go find her," Ron stopped when Carl spoke, "I just need your help. If we could maybe climb up--"

"I'm not helping you, Carl." Ron waved him off.

"Ron, she's your friend. Don't be stupid." Hannah told him, becoming angry herself. How could Ron act as if he didn't care?

"My girlfriend!" he stared at Hannah for a moment before turning his attention to Carl, "Or I mean, 'cause she was was anyway, right?"

"You're just gonna leave her out there because you're jealous?" Hannah said incredulously.

"Oh, shut up Hannah," He pointed to her, " I can't believe you're on his side! Again!"

"Hey, man," Carl stepped in quickly, stepping slightly in front of the girl.

"No, okay. I tried to tell her to stop going over that wall. I told 'er there's bad people out there, and that it's stupid and dangerous!"

"Not if you know what you're doing." Hannah knew Carl's words would make Ron mad.

"Well, I'm not gonna let you go." He spoke lowly, staring Carl down.

"You can't stop us," Carl spoke in the same tone.

"Us?" Ron chuckled lightly, "What is Hannah gonna go with you? Look at her."

Before Carl could speak for her, Hannah spoke, "Yes, Ron, I am. She may not be yours, but Enid is my friend. I'm not just gonna leave her there by herself."

"These people are ruining you, Hannah." Ron said through his teeth, and then pointed to Carl, "He is ruining you."

Hannah let out a sigh and shook her head before she and Carl both turned to leave.

"Hannah!" They heard from behind them. "Hannah, you are not going out there!" Ron reached for her arm, pulling it hard enough for her to wince. Carl immediately turned around, pushing the boy back.

"Back off!" He shouted and they began to push each other.

"Guys stop, this is stupid," Hannah yelled out. Carl ran at Ron, both of them at each other's chests. "Stop!"

Carl pushed Ron hard, forcing him to the ground. When he landed, Ron let out a weak cough. Hannah grabbed Carl's arm while he puffed out his chest.

"Carl, leave it." She said as she tugged them away.

"I'll tell your dad!" Ron spoke from the ground, "He'll go out there to find you, then other people will too. And then somebody's gonna die."

Hannah felt Carl stop as Ron finished.

"Ron, shut up," She spoke, but the boys just stared at each other.

Finally, Ron said, "You save my life, I'm saving yours."

---

Hannah spent the rest of her day with Denise, helping her to clean up the infirmary. The more time she spent away from her home, the more Hannah realized she didn't want to go back. Of course, she wanted to sleep in her own bed, it was all she could think about. But she didn't want to go back to that house. Even after Carl had cleaned for her, Hannah knew there would still be blood on the floor, there would still be broken glass from the window. It was all too much. But after a while, there wasn't anything else she could do, so, Hannah went home.

Coming from the infirmary, Hannah passed Carl's house as she walked. She was surprised to see him sitting on the grass outside of his porch, similar to how Ron was earlier. She wanted to say 'hi', and maybe see how he was doing after their conversation with Ron. But Carl never looked up, so Hannah continued walking.

When she reached her door for the last time today, Hannah hesitated before going inside. Just being on that porch brought her back, back to her crawling in the grass, back to the woman on top of her. Her breath quickened, her hand instinctively holding her side. Hannah couldn't go inside. She wouldn't. And so Hannah sat on the bench on her porch and closed her eyes, rocking back and forth slightly.

"Hannah," Someone said in a loud whisper. Hannah jolted awake, now seeing that Carl was standing in front of her.

"What's wrong, Carl?" He looked surprised at her question.

"Nothing, I just-- I saw you up and here and I wanted to see if you were alright."

Hannah rubbed her eyes and sat up straighter, "Carl, you really don't have to keep checking up on me."

"Well, then why are you sitting outside?" He asked.

Hannah thought before speaking, "It's nice out."

"No, it's not," Carl spoke.

"Carl--" Hannah tried before being cut off.

"Hannah, why are you outside?"

"It's fine, please, just leave it alone."

They stared at each other, not saying anything. One thing they would always have in common is their stubbornness.

"Remember what you said about Enid?" Carl said randomly.

"What?" Hannah shuffled fully to see Carl's face in the light of the sunset.

"You said you wouldn't leave her alone. Because she was your friend. That's what you told Ron," Carl paused, "You are my friend, Hannah. I won't leave you alone." Carl's eyes were serious, just like they had been when he was at her house earlier. He had the same look in his eye that he had during that stupid fight with Ron. Carl looked determined.

Hannah sighed, leaning her head into her hands, careful not to touch the cuts on her forehead "Look, I just-- I don't know, I'm sorta scared to go inside, okay? It's not that big a deal."

"Then let's do it together," She heard Carl say simply.

"What?" Hannah looked up now.

"Let's go inside together. You were able to go in earlier when I was there. Let's do it again." Hannah could hear the pride in his words. But it wasn't the same pride he'd had when he was fighting with Ron. This wasn't some sort of masculine need to save her, he genuinely wanted to.

Before she could protest, Carl put out his hand to hers, tugging her up lightly.

"Carl, I--" He ignored her words stepping away from her and opening the door.

"Please?" Carl said, holding the door open from the inside.

She watched as his eyes begged her, and finally nodded. Hannah stepped through the doorway, following Carl as they walked inside.

Her house was still a mess. There was still leftover glass that hadn't been picked up, decorating the windows. Hannah could still see her own blood in the kitchen from where the woman had cut her. It all made her want to cry. It made Hannah want to curl up in a ball and hide away. It made Hannah scared.

Carl gripped her hand, pulling Hannah out of her own memories, "Let's just go upstairs, okay?" he spoke softly.

That night, Hannah slept for the first time since the attack. Carl had offered to leave her alone now, not wanting to invade her space. But as she was in bed, watching him leave from under her covers, Hannah asked him to stay.

"You don't have to," She said softly, "If you want to go you can, I'm sure Rick will wonder where you are."

Carl said nothing for a while, only looking back at her, the sound of their soft breaths filling the room. Then, he walked back to the bed and sat on the floor, his back leaning against the mattress.

"Go to sleep, Hannah." He smiled, "I want to stay."

And so she did.  

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HIII Loveliess!!! Oh my god, a Carl-centric chapter??? who would have thought? I know it's a little bit shorter than usual but I really hope you all like it. Like I said before, I absolutely love these episodes and I've been planning these chapters forever so I'm so happy to finally be sharing them!

How do we feel about Carl staying over??

She tightened the glass in her hands, pulling it above Hannah's body, before slamming into down into her chest. The pain seared through Hannah as she screamed.

Hannah's world went dark for a moment, and she could only feel the pain that scorched her body. She couldn't tell where exactly it was coming from, but it was cold and hot and terrible.

A sound rang out that Hannah couldn't decipher. Then her chest became heavy, the weight of a corpse on top of her. A soon-to-be walker.

Hannah unclenched her eyes to see her attacker's hair covering her own face, the woman's body lifeless on top of her own. With a hard push, Hannah moved the woman's body off of herself. As she did, the woman's limp hand pulled the knife she had just stabbed her. Hannah realized now that the knife had gone through her side, leaving a slice just below her ribs.

Standing above her, gun in hand, was Maggie. Before Hannah knew what had happened, Maggie reached out her hand and helped the girl stand. Hannah could see in her eyes that Maggie was just as scared as she was. She hadn't seen this sort of chaos in so long.

"Go to the infirmary," was all Maggie said, shouting over the sounds of screams.

Hannah had a love-hate relationship with the infirmary. She loved that it was there at all, that they were able to help people. But, she hated Pete.

When Hannah arrived at the infirmary, blood still dripping from the deep cut on the side of her neck and the stab wound on her side, she found that Tara, Denise, and Eugene were already inside.

Jesus, what happened to you?" Eugene immediately says as the girl comes through the door. Tara and Denise, who Hannah had yet to really get to know, turned as well, shocked at the sight of her.

"It's fine, someone-- someone just got into my house. One of them." Hannah pushed herself to say.

"Here, sit down." Tara quickly pulls Hannah over to the couch that had been turned into a makeshift gurney. It was red with goldish stripes, which Hannah always thought was very fitting.

"Eugene! Get her some bandages. We've gotta stop that bleeding." Denise called out to Eugene, who only nodded curtly and ran for the supply cabinet.

Eugene began to wrap the bandages around Hannah's side, putting just enough pressure to stop the bleeding, and put a smaller wrap around her head. Hannah had never talked to Eugene much, though she knew he had a reputation for being odd. She didn't mind it though, as long as he was good at fixing her, she didn't care who he was.

As Eugene wrapped her up, what had just happened began to set in for Hannah. Her entire body ached, not only the parts that had been injured. It was like all of the fear she had felt, all of the pain, all of the constant running, had been amplified all at once throughout her body. She groaned as Eugene moved to work on her side. She was so tired.

"Um, you can put your head down, Miss Hannah," Eugene said hesitantly, feeling her begin to sway. Hannah didn't respond, but she let her head fall onto the man's shoulder, opposite to the side he was working on and rested.

It felt like it had been so long since Hannah had arrived at the infirmary. She was only reminded of the situation she was in when a loud siren began to sound. She jumped awake, pulling her head off Eugene, who was now sitting stiffly as she rested. While she was out, Hannah realized, Denise must have stitched her up because she could feel the dull pain coming from her side.

"What's that?" She asked groggily. She could feel now that her body had been tended to carefully, and though the stitches throbbed, the pressure of the gauze on her wounds felt nice.

"I don't know," Tara said, moving towards the window for a better look. Denise headed for the window, only after checking that Hannah was taken care of properly.

"I'm so sorry." She said, looking over the injuries.

'It's fine," Hannah told her, almost meaning it, "It's just a lot of blood. Really."

Hannah pushed herself off of the couch and next to Tara, trying to show her she would be okay. She couldn't see much outside other than the gruesome mess left behind by their attackers.

The door swung open abruptly, letting in Rosita, Aaron, and Eric, all helping to carry Holly through the door. She was limp in their arms, blood soaking through her white shirt.

"Holly!" Denise shouted, running to help the group. Hannah turned in surprise, quickly moving out of the way.

"We need the operating table prepped!" Rosita shouted, "She's lost a lotta blood."

"How many people are out there?" Tara questions the group as they place the woman onto a gurney.

"I don't-- I don't know, there's a lot," Aaron tells her.

"Rosita! Do you know how to stick an IV?" Denise shouts to the woman, who quickly began to look for the IV equipment. Hannah hurried over to Rosita, careful not to pull her stitches as she did, and pulled out the IV bag and needle from the same drawer she had seen Eugene use.

"What about the air horn? What's happening!" Tara says frantically as Hannah put the IV bag onto its hook above the gurney. She handed Rosita the cord, allowing her to stick the IV into Holly's arm.

Hannah now saw the knife that stuck out of Holly's chest. She stumbled back at the sight, it was all too much. Hannah wanted to help, but she wasn't sure how. She figured the best thing she could do was back away.

Hannah moved away from the scene, now watching as everyone moved around quickly. She looked out of the window where they had stood when the horn went off. She saw people running and falling and praying to be saved. It was all too much.

She thought of Carl again. Hannah wondered where he was and if he was safe. She didn't know why, but she needed him to be.

"I don't know," Aaron's face became serious as he looked at Eric, "I need to help. I need to try." The man nodded back to him, giving him silent permission to leave.

"Denise, I'm gonna have to go too," Rosita tells her. Denise watched as she began to move away, her eyes wide.

"So do I," Tara said.

Denise grabbed her arm before she could back away fully, "You got dizzy swinging a hammer! Somebody's gotta guard this place."

"You can handle--"

"I can't!" Denise shouts. Everyone went quiet. Hannah felt bad for her. She knew Denise had never really been a doctor Before. But she was the best they had.

"I also believe my services would be best rendered right very here," Eugene adds quickly, in the same hesitant voice he had spoken to Hannah in.

"What?' Aaron asks from across the room, readying to go back outside.

He tried to repeat himself before Rosita tells him to shut up and leaves with Aaron.

The room is quiet while they continued to work, with only the hum of the horn sounding in the distance.

---

"What's happening with her?' Tara asks as the machines attached to Holly beep softly. Hannah had been watching as they worked to keep the woman alive, grabbing materials when they needed them.

"She's bleeding internally. Probably severed her femoral artery" Denise says softly, "She's dying." Hannah could see the fear on both of their faces.

"Okay," Tara starts, "So, the artery's severed but-- Can it be fixed?"

"Maybe, by a surgeon."

"You were gonna be a surgeon," Tara tells her.

"But I'm not." Denise turns to her.

Tara's face contorts just slightly.

"She was protecting this place. She was guarding us. That's what we do for each other," Tara pauses when Denise says nothing, only looking away, "You're afraid?" She still doesn't respond, "I don't care, help her. Try! Help her!"

Denise only looks at Tara, her chest moving quickly as she breathed.

"Denise," Hannah started softly. She didn't know if it was her place to speak. She understood why Denise was scared, but they needed to do something.

"You can help her. You helped me." Hannah gave her a pleading look, now moving closer to Denise, who only watched her with wide eyes. "You have to be strong."

She stared at Hannah when she finished speaking. The girl gave Denise her best reassuring smile.

"I know it's scary, but she needs you. You have to help her."

Eugene stepped off the wall he had been leaning against, "I agree with Miss Hannah. You don't want to be a coward. I know"

Denise looked over all of them once more, her breath beginning to slow. She clenched her jaw slightly and allowed her fists to unclench.

"I'm gonna need an abdominal binder. We're gonna pull the knife."

Hannah nodded her head at the woman, immediately heading for the drawers.

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Hi Loveliesss! I know this one is a bit shorter than last time's, but I promise it is important. I'm so excited for the next chapter you guys don't even understand!! I've been planning this whole wolves thing for so long and it makes me so happy to finally be able to write it out.

Eugene helping Hannah was too cute I had to add it :)

Hannah woke in her bed, her eyes blinded by the sun shining in the window that faced out onto Alexandria. She had never planned to wake up this late, but with all that happened last night, she allowed herself to, just this once. Hannah let her hands run over the soft sheets that covered her mattress. She felt the warmth of the cotton, a feeling she was sure she would never get used to. Hannah wanted to sink into the mattress below her, she wanted to be swallowed up in its comfortable clutches.

Memories of her conversation with Ron played over and over in Hannah's mind. How did a day so wonderful turn so sour? She understood why Ron was upset, he had every right to be, but he had no right to take it out on her.

Hannah began to stand from her place in the bed, letting her legs swing over the sides and onto the cool, hardwood floor. She was going to talk to Ron. She knew she didn't deserve the things he said to her, and she knew he would understand.

As she rose, Hannah heard a cacophonous string of screams pour out from the town surrounding her. She jumped at the noise, having almost forgotten what that terrible, fear-filled sound was. Hannah moved quickly to the window that she had just been hiding away from, searching for the origin of the sound. She could see people running in all directions, frantic terror written across their faces, and yet, she could see no perpetrator of their fear.

Hannah then ran swiftly down her stairs, slipping as she turned. Had the walkers gotten in? Hannah thought. She leaped from the last step, going to look through a different window. She moved the loose curtain to the side. Hannah could now see the perpetrators.

She watched as men and women with W's haphazardly scraped onto their foreheads chased after the townspeople, all sorts of weapons reached out far in front of them. They seemed to have grabbed whatever they could, with some carrying heavy knives or axes, and others carrying guns that they must have taken from her own people. The invaders were wearing bloodstained and worn clothes, and Hannah couldn't help but be more scared of them because of it. She pulled the curtain closed, unable to look as her people were murdered, slashed right in front of her. Hannah didn't know what to do. Should she be helping people fight? Should she stay hidden away inside? Hannah knew her only choices were between cowardice and stupidity.

Hannah chose cowardice.

She slumped herself against the wall, staying as still and flat as she could. There were two other open windows on the walls across from her, each giving a perfect view of the chaos outside. She needed a plan. She needed to find somewhere safe.

Hannah slid farther down the wall, now sitting uncomfortably on her knees. She kept her eyes on the windows, trying her best to stay observant. She needed to get to the kitchen, Hannah thought. If she could grab the knives, or even a mallet maybe, Hannah would be protected. God, at that moment she wished she had asked Daryl to help her sooner. If only she hadn't been so scared. If only she didn't simply wish away the bad things.

When Hannah made it to the kitchen, still crouching below the sight of the windows, she pulled open the drawer that held the silverware. Inside were a few rows of utensils, each one from a completely different set. In the back were the knives. There were only two, one big, and one smaller. The big one was the kind that Hannah could remember her mother using to cut steak before cooking it. The smaller one, Hannah knew, was a paring knife. She had used it many times before for her own meals. Hannah's hand hovered over the two. If she has to fight, she thought, she is going to have to win. Hannah grabbed the big knife.

Hannah stayed in the kitchen, the knife clutched against her chest. She tried to tune out the sounds, the screaming and the crying of the people she knew. Her mind wandered back to her friends. She knew Enid would be okay, the girl knew what she was doing. Hopefully, Ron would be with her. Hopefully, she could protect him. Hannah didn't want to think about Carl, though. She knew, of course, that he would be okay. He had to be. She knew he was probably with Judith, standing over her crib, or maybe holding her in his arms. She knew Carl would protect his family; that would be his first priority. Hannah wanted to be sure, though. She so desperately wanted to know that he was okay. That all of her friends were okay.

As Hannah waited, she could hear the sounds outside getting quieter. The screams seemed to ebb as she stood, and Hannah allowed herself, finally, to near the window. She reached the one that she had stood at not long ago. With the knife still clutched in her palms, Hannah held her breath and reached out to the curtain. She pulled it just slightly, peeking through the opening. Although she could see the bodies that were strewn about, beaten and bloody, it looked like everything was finally over.

Hannah gripped the curtain, holding it for a moment, before pulling it back all the way. When she did, Hannah stared right back into the eyes of a woman, a 'w' scratched into her forehead and blood dripping off of her hands.

Hannah could hear the glass shatter as she ran. Hannah could hear the woman entering her home. She ran back into the kitchen, gripping the knife so hard its wooden handle dug into the skin of her palm. She searched frantically for an escape. The front door was blocked by the woman, her large body hunched slightly as she pulled herself from the window. Within a second, she ran at Hannah, meeting her in the kitchen. And then she only stood, a shard of the broken window in hand, watching her breath.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" the woman asked, her voice scratchy and mean, and yet, superficially, it was genuine. Her head was turned slightly, and her eyes were condescending as she too breathed heavily. Hannah kept the knife reached out in front of her.

"Take whatever you want, please, just leave us alone." She said, trying to keep her voice level.

"Whatever I want?" The woman mocked, moving closer now, "You shouldn't make promises like that." She continued closer to Hannah, blocking her in.

"Stay back" Hannah shouted, moving her knife forward. The woman only laughed.

"What are you gonna do, hm? That's a pretty big knife for a little girl like you." The woman gestured with the shard, and Hannah was forced into silence. Hannah knew the woman was stronger than she was, she knew she had done this before. Hannah begged in her mind that someone would barge through the door. Maybe Daryl would be back now, maybe he would run in with his bow and shoot the woman before Hannah even shed a tear. Maybe Carl would see her through the window and pull his gun from its holster, not willing to anyone else get hurt. But the outside was still quiet, and her door was still closed. All Hannah could hear was her own heart and the breathing of the woman in front of her.

Hannah gripped her knife harder now, so hard she was sure it would bruise her hand. If she could just make it past the woman, she would be free. It was an impossible thought, but this time, Hannah chose stupidity. With the idea set in her mind, she pushed off the counter and barreled into the woman. The window shard plunged into Hannah's arm, causing her ears to ring as they tumbled. The woman had fallen to the ground with Hannah on top of her. She hadn't really thought this far ahead, but something inside of her, something animalist, kept Hannah going. They each grunted and cried as they rolled around on the ground, going back and forth between who was on top. The woman gripped down onto the hand that held Hannah's knife, digging her nails deep into the girl's skin. Hannah used her injured arm to knock the glass from the woman's hand before they flipped over. Now Hannah lay, her back pressed against the hard wooden floor, struggling to free her hand from the woman's grab. That animalistic part came over Hannah again when her hand wouldn't budge. She brought her knee up in between their two bodies, reeling back and striking the woman's ribs. She cried and loosened her grip just enough that Hannah could pull herself from beneath the woman.

Hannah sprinted to the door and stumbled onto her porch. She jumped from the steps, much as she had on her way downstairs, falling onto her hands and knees. Hannah only just made it off the porch before she could hear the woman yelling after her. She looked behind her and saw the woman charging forward, the glass back in her hand. Hannah staggered forward, slipping slightly on the blood of a corpse. She noticed now, that the grass beneath her was slick with blood and bodies. With a slight gasp of horror, Hannah continued to run.

She made it just to the next house before Hannah felt the woman on her back. She pushed her down as Hannah screamed. She felt her face become buried into the grass and she could taste the metallic sting of blood, though she wasn't sure who it belonged to.

"You stupid bitch!" The woman yelled. Hannah saw now that she had a cut along her face. Hannah must have cut her when they were in the kitchen. When Hannah fell, the knife that she had been gripping so hard had slipped from her hand, the sweat of her palm becoming too much. Hannah tried to turn her head to search for it, but she felt the cold sting of glass against her throat.

"You could have been free, girl! I could have freed you!" The woman dug the glass along her face, drawing blood on her forehead. Hannah winced at the feeling, her eyes finally beginning to water. She jerked her head away from the glass, but it only seemed to cut deeper.

"Don't cry, girl. We're gonna help you." The woman gave Hannah an eerie smile before moving the shard down her chest. Hannah moved desperately below her, her hands sweeping across the grass, begging for her knife.

"Please" Hannah cried.

At that, the woman took her hand, swiped up some of the blood from Hannah's face, and began to write on her own forehead, outlining the 'W' that had already been carved. The touch of the woman's fingers stung like salt, and Hannah could feel the blood drip down her cheeks. Some fell into her eyes, mixing with her tears. When the woman was done, she moved a bloody finger to Hannah's lips, holding it delicately over them.

"Shh," The woman said softly, "You will be free."

She tightened the glass in her hands, pulling it above Hannah's body, before slamming it down into her chest. The pain seared through Hannah as she screamed.

---

Her mom had been the one to find the shack. It wasn't really a shack, but Hannah felt that there was no difference between a shack and a gun shed. When they found it, Jennifer Grant only wanted to see if there were any weapons left. When they found that the shack had been pillaged long ago, Jen wanted to leave, unable to look at their failure. But Malcolm Grant persisted, so they decided this was their new home.

The family lived in that shack for most of their time After. Over the years, they had set it up as nicely as they could, with a quilt lining the small floor, and the small family photo that Jen had brought with them covering a hole in one of the walls. It was nice. They were safe.

Hannah loved how open it was. Of course, the shed itself was small, but outside of it was a wide-open field. It must have spanned about 1-2 acres, and it was full of beautiful, bright green grass. Hidden inside the grass were all sorts of wildflowers; blue flowers, red flowers, orange flowers, and purple flowers. Hannah spent most of her time in the field. The house was too cramped, and the outside was too beautiful.

She hadn't been outside that day. It was been raining and Jen told Hannah to stay inside.

"You'll get sick," she had told her.

And so, Hannah and her mother stayed inside. Malcolm had gone out not too long before the rain had started. He was going on a run to find more canned foods. They had just begun to run out.

Now, Hannah could only remember small pieces of that day. She could still remember the sound of the gunshots outside. She could still remember her mother jumping in shock at the noise. And she remembered the feeling of the tears in her eyes when her mother said she needed to go outside.

Hannah sat in the corner of the shed, alone, with her knees pressed up against her chest as she sobbed. There were two more gunshots that rang out until everything went silent.

Hannah waited. She prayed that her mother might walk back through the door, holding her father's hand. They would come in and say everything was okay and wipe her tears. But they never did. Hannah stayed inside, alone, listening to the rain hit the roof just as her tears hit the floor.

Finally, when the rain stopped, Hannah stood.

Now, Hannah could still remember the blood that covered the field she had loved. She remembered how the sticky liquid blanketed all of the flowers that decorated the grass, painting them all a deep red.

It was an odd sight, the swaying of the long grass that wrapped around the unmoving body of Malcolm Grant.

Hesitantly, Hannah ran to find her mother. She screamed her name into the air and yet nothing came back. She yelled again, her desperate voice straining against her throat. Still, nothing came back.

Now, Hannah could still remember that first view of the walkers coming toward her. She could still feel her hesitance to leave her only family behind.

Hannah could remember how she cried harder than she had all day when she found herself alone, with only the photograph she had taken from the shed, at a large fence.

A fence with Alexandria: Safe Zone was written across it.

---

HEYYY LOVLIESSSSS!!! ahhh I'm so excited about this chapter. I've literally been planning it (and the upcoming chapters) for soo long. I really hope you enjoyed it. I also hope the flashback and the fight scenes made sense. I've never written something like that before so idk.

How do we feel about Hannah's backstory???

Thanks for Reading!

"This is--" Carol said softly, with an air of ingenuine hesitance, "Well, there's no other word for it, this is terrifying. All of it."

Her eyes were wide as she spoke, looking around the living room where most of Alexandria's residents stood. By now, Hannah had been able to pick up on Carol's game, the act of innocence she had put on. Ever since their conversation about Pete, Hannah knew there was more to the woman than anyone knew. She didn't blame her though, it made sense to pretend. By acting as though she knew nothing, she ensured that she could know everything.

Rick and Deanna told everyone to meet at her house in order to discuss what to do about the horde of walkers. Hannah was always confused when they called the creatures walkers. She liked her word, roamers, but they were all saying the same thing in the end. Walkers. Roamers. Creatures. It didn't matter, because either way, they were all running from the same evil.

Hannah wasn't technically supposed to be at the meeting, it's not like she could have helped them, but after begging Deanna, she was allowed to listen in. Things like this had always interested Hannah, she wanted to know what it was like to lead. As Carol spoke, she noticed Carter, a taller, balding man, silently disagreeing with everything that was said.

"But it doesn't sound like there's any other way." Carol finished speaking.

Carter immediately spoke when the woman went silent, "Maybe there is." He seemed nervous to speak, "I mean, couldn't we just build up the weak spots? I--I could write up the plan. I worked on the wall with Reg." He glanced over to Deanna. "The construction crew-- We could all try to make it safe." He spoke with desperation in his voice.

"Even if we could, the sound of those walkers is drawing more and more every day." Rick cut him off, shaking his head, "Building up the exits can't change that."

The room was silent, no one quite sure who to listen to.

"We're gonna do what Rick says, the plan he's laid out." Deanna finally added, keeping her eyes glued to the window she stood in front of.

And so, they began to assemble a group of volunteers.

---

Part of the plan that Rick had come up with was to build a wall. Hannah, Carl, Enid, and Ron had all been dispersed throughout the area, only allowed to help with simple tasks. Hannah didn't necessarily mind the restriction, at least she was doing something. But, she could see in Carl's face that he wanted to be more helpful, he wanted to take action.

Hannah was helping to lean sheets of metal against their posts, readying them to be nailed in. She and Rosita carried a sheet from the truck, each one taking a different side. Hannah hadn't talked to Rosita much, but she had always been intrigued by the woman. She was so strong and so smart. She was fearless.

As the two carried the sheets, Hannah glanced toward Carl, who was helping another group dig up the dirt surrounding the new wall. She hadn't spoken to him since everything happened with his dad. She didn't want to overstep anything, so she decided to give him space. But as they worked, Hannah couldn't help but watch the boy. He was talking with Enid, both smiling at whatever they had said. Carl was so good at confusing Hannah. She couldn't tell what his feelings for Enid were. Did he like her? Did she like him? And how did that make Hannah feel? Hannah knew Ron and Enid were together, but what does it mean to date in the apocalypse?

She didn't want to think about it anymore.

Hannah turned back to her work. Rosita had left to help Maggie with something, so she was left on her own. Hannah really wanted to help the community, but she wasn't entirely sure how. Hannah guessed that working on the wall was good, but was it good enough?

"Hey, kid" A low, gruff voice spoke from behind Hannah. She turned, startled by the noise, to see Daryl standing across from her. He held a box of nails in his hand, his bow slung over his back. Hannah didn't know what to say. If being around Rosita made her nervous, she couldn't imagine having a conversation with Daryl.

Hannah knew the man wasn't dangerous, the was apparent early on. However, he would always intimidate her.

"Hi," she said.

"Uh, Rosita sent me over to see if ya'll needed some help with the wall."

"Oh, well I'm sure we could use it," Hannah told the man. She expected him to leave her, most likely going off to work with someone from his group. However, he dropped the box to the ground and began to pick up a sheet of metal. Hannah looked at him, silently asking what he was doing. Daryl didn't look at the girl, but simply said, "We gotta build this up higher, who knows if them things can climb."

Hannah and Daryl worked for about twenty minutes in comfortable silence. They had built up about six feet of the wall, moving over slowly as they went. Carol had come around, passing out small styrofoam cups of water to each of the workers. Once Hannah grabbed her drink, she immediately sat on the grass, leaning against the wall they had just put up. She was exhausted from the work, even if it didn't feel like enough. The sun had been out all day, unhindered by clouds. Hannah sipped the water, tasting the plastic materials from the cup swim over her tongue. The water wasn't cold, but she didn't expect it to be. It was simply refreshing.

Soon after she sat, Daryl slowly crouched to the ground. Hannah didn't say anything as he pulled off his bow, placing it to the side farthest from her. They both sat, quietly sipping their water.

"You nervous?" Daryl asked randomly. He didn't look at Hannah, only staring ahead of him as he spoke. Everyone in his group loved to do that.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you nervous about the horde? I know some of the other kids are." Hannah once again didn't know how to respond. Apparently everyone, Maggie, Carl, and now Daryl, thought she was incredibly weak.

"I mean, I guess," Hannah shrugged, "Are you?"

"I guess" Daryl copied her words. This took Hannah by surprise. How was Daryl, the man who walked around with a crossbow and a scowl, scared?

"Really?" Hannah asked, unable to stop herself.

"Yeah." Daryl turned to Hannah, who looked at him with confusion, "What? You don't think I could be scared?" Daryl laughed lightly.

"I don't know" Hannah laughed with him. " You guys are all just— well I don't know." Hannah thought for a moment, unsure of how to describe the group. Daryl stayed quiet, letting her figure out what to say. "I just can't imagine you scared"

"We all get scared sometimes"

---

Eventually, Hannah became much too tired to continue working on the wall, and although she insisted she could stay, Maggie wouldn't take no for an answer. As she packed up her things, Hannah looked around the lot, wondering who else was left. Carol had gone home about an hour ago, and Daryl had left to talk to Rick not long after. She also noticed that Carl had slipped away a while ago, leaving Enid to talk with Maggie.

Hannah made her way home, carrying a light sweater that she had brought to the sight in case it got cold. She was only walking for a couple of minutes before the wind began to pick up and she was forced to put on the sweater. It was a blue knit cardigan, something Aaron had brought back from a run. The heat from the sweater helped her stay warm, but she was excited to get home and into bed. Hannah passed by the Grimes' house, only glancing at it as she walked. On the porch, Hannah could see Carl sitting on the wooden bench, a baby tucked into his arms. Judith was wrapped in a fuzzy blue blanket, her head completely covered by the fabric.

Hannah stopped walking. It was the blanket she had given the family when they first came to Alexandria. Carl was using her blanket.

"Hey."

Hannah looked up to see Carl waving softly at her. She hadn't realized he could see her.

"Hi"

Carl watched her for a moment, and he seemed to be mulling something over in his mind.

"It's cold tonight," Was all he said.

Hannah nodded at the boy. In an act of courage, she moved closer to the porch, now leaning on the rail in front of Carl. He didn't seem to mind. Carl noticed her movement and slowly moved over on the bench, creating a space for her to sit.

Hannah smiled, climbing up the steps onto the porch.

When she sat down, Hannah noticed Judith stir in her sleep, most likely annoyed at the new movement. Hannah's body went stiff, hoping not to wake the baby.

"She really likes the blanket," Carl spoke, ignoring the movements from Judith.

"I'm glad," Hannah told him.

"The whole thing was pretty cool, the basket."

Hannah chuckled lightly, "Really?"

"Oh yeah, it's really the only reason we stayed," Carl over-exaggerated. He smiled at Hannah as he spoke, waiting for her to catch on.

Hannah laughed harder than she meant to, quickly quieting herself so as not to wake Judith. She watched her in Carl's hands, delighted by the way she was snuggled into the blue blanket.

"Well, I got one when I first got here, so, you know." Hannah trailed off.

Carl rocked slightly on the bench, his arm brushing slightly against Hannah's own. He was warm, Hannah noticed, and she could feel him even through her sweater. She was comfortable next to him.

"Thank you," Carl told Hannah, though he was looking at Judith.

"For what?" Hannah asked.

"Just for everything, I guess." Carl looked at Hannah now. His dark eyes were soft as they looked into hers and there was a wonderful cool breeze that rushed over the two of them.

"You don't need to say 'thank you'." Hannah spoke without looking away, "We're friends, that's what friends do"

Carl's smile grew and he looked down at Judith in his arms.

"I'm glad to have a friend here."

---

The next day, Hannah saw Carl talking to Gabriel. She didn't want to eavesdrop on their conversation, but she couldn't help but wonder why they would be talking, especially after everything that had happened. She watched for a moment as Carl pulled a machete off of a table next to them, moving it around as if to show Gabriel something. Hannah realized, Carl was showing Gabriel how to use it. He was helping him. The sight made Hannah smile. She watched Carl explain different movements with the weapon, and then, she saw him very carefully hand it to the man.

Hannah didn't like Gabriel, and yet she was happy about what Carl was doing. The only reason Gabriel said what he did was because he was scared. He is scared. But rather than continue to shun him, Carl decided to help him learn how not to be scared.

Hannah thought back to the night before. He was so kind to her, so happy. She almost laughed at how much he had changed, how they all had changed.

All of this reminded Hannah of her plan, her 'learn how to be strong' plan. The next step would be to actually learn, and there was only one person she trusted to teach her that.

"I want you to teach me how to use your bow," Hannah said to Daryl, her voice unwavering. They were standing by the fence, Daryl looking down at her with a blank stare, showing no sign of what his answer might be. Hannah had found him working by the fence and knew this was her chance.

"Why?" He asked curtly.

"I want to protect myself." Hannah continued, matching his tone. He seemed to think about her request, considering what it would mean for him. His face was still bare and Hannah shuffled back and forth on her feet, waiting for Daryl's answer.

She began to doubt her decision to ask. Sure they had talked at the wall, but that didn't make them friends. She let her eyes fall to the ground as she waited for the response.

"When I get back. When the horde is gone." Daryl said simply.

Hannah's head shot up. Daryl gave her a small yet genuine nod before walking away and Hannah smiled bigger than she had all day. She was going to learn to be strong.

---

Hannah needed to walk after her conversation with Daryl. She didn't know why, but she knew she needed to move. Hannah walked to the gazebo, then to the infirmary, and then back to the center of town. She was too happy to care how late it was. As Hannah walked, the sun began to set around her, leaving the sky a beautiful pinkish orange, speckled with smudges of purple.

As she finally reached her house, Hannah was met with a man. He was standing by her door, his back facing her. He was hunched and she couldn't see his face, but Hannah smiled, knowing it was Ron.

"What are you doing?" Hannah asked, walking up to the boy. It was odd for him to be here this late, but Hannah wasn't going to turn him away.

Ron quickly turned, as if he didn't expect her to be anywhere near her own home. When he fully turned, Hannah could see his face was pink and his cheeks were stained with tears. Quickly, she moved closer to him, her face turning concerned.

"Ron, what happened?" Hannah asked, "What are you doing?"

But Ron didn't look her in the eye.

"I saw you with Carl."

Hannah stopped.

"What?"

"I saw you talking to Carl earlier," Ron said it like it was obvious.

"Yeah?" Hannah still didn't understand what the boy meant. She stepped closer to him, reaching her arm out slightly. He moved back, pulling his arm out of reach. Hannah's face fell deeper.

Ron's eyes met hers, "How could you do that?"

"Do what, Ron? Me and Carl?" Ron said nothing, "We were talking about Judith, Ron."

"His dad killed my dad!" Ron screamed at her and Hannah could see the tears forming back in his eyes. She gasped and stepped back, stumbling on the step of her porch.

"Ron--" Hannah tried.

"No, Hannah, forget it. You don't get it."

"Ron, it's not Carl's fault. It's not anyone's fault." Hannah knew that was a lie.

Ron's nose flared and he looked away from Hannah. It was like he couldn't even look at her.

"Of course, you take his side," Ron mumbled.

"His side-- Ron!" she stepped closer again, "Pete was hurting you. He was hurting all of you!" Hannah snapped and Ron turned back to her. Hannah could feel her eyes become glossy, and she balled her fists, begging the tears not to fall. She had cried in front of Ron before, but never because of him.

Ron's face was hard as he spoke, "It doesn't matter."

"It does," She spoke softly.

Before Hannah could stop him, Ron left his spot on the porch, leaving her alone.

Hannah took in a deep breath, unable to comprehend what has just happened. She leaned against her door taking in shaky breaths.

What just happened?

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Hiiiii Loveliesssss! omg I kinda love and hate this chapter, idk? But either way, it's definitely one of my longer chapters so yayy. I'm so happy with the Carl moment and I've literally been planning it for so long. I'm still kind of worried that Hannah and Ron's relationship might be coming off differently than I want but oh well. I'm also so happy we finally got a Daryl and Hannah scene!! If you couldn't tell I've been planning that too. I hope you all enjoyed!!

p.s I'm sorry this is coming out so late in the day I was busy watching The Last Vampire On Earth (You have to watch it it's so funny)