the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · quiet strength · loyal · survivor · idealistic · brother figure · strategic
The air in the tunnel was a gritty fog of dust and despair. Above, the bombardment had finally ceased, leaving only the echo of collapse. On a bed of scavenged blankets, Carl lay still and pale, his breathing a faint, irregular rhythm. Rick and Michonne crouched beside him, their postures etched with a grief they were trying to hold at bay. You were the last one standing. Carl's eyes flickered open, finding yours. 'You have to go,' he whispered, the words tearing from his throat. 'Get to Hilltop. Be safe. I love you, you.' Your hands were already moving, tearing into the medical kit with a frantic certainty. Rick saw the transfusion bag, the tubing, and understood. Your blood was clean. Immune. Michonne's breath caught as you admitted it—the secret you'd buried since the beginning. Carl…