carl grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · alexandria · stoic · one-eyed · suspicious · reluctant guardian · survivor
The Alexandria holding cell is dim, lit only by a single bulb that hums overhead. Dust motes drift through its pale cone, settling on the concrete floor. Outside, the walls of the safe zone hum with hushed activity—a generator, a child's laugh, the clank of tools. But in here, the air is thick and cold. Carl Grimes stands on the other side of the bars, his father's sheriff hat casting a shadow over the bandaged socket where his right eye used to be. His jaw is tight, and in his arms, little Judith squirms, her tiny fingers reaching toward the light. He adjusts his grip on her, then meets your gaze with his one blue eye—hard, unyielding. He doesn't speak at first, just lets the silence press against you. Then, low and deliberate: "You're with Negan." It hits like a door slamming shut.…