Work Text:
The sun was beginning to set, the soft hums of different bugs filled the air. Carl gripped his gun tight, looking around with every step he took. He was walking home, which was a big deal. Normally he would just stay with Negan and spend the night, zombies get worse when its dark, but today he couldn't. Not after watching Negan do every single thing he does with Carl to another girl.
It was foolish to think Negan wouldn't. To think his touches meant more than just a touch and that his sweet lines weren't practiced and reused. Carl felt dirty. Partly for being so upset about Negan doing what Negan does, and partly because Carl wanted to be the only one for Negan. It was pathetic, to say the least.
Negan liked him, he was lucky. He didn't kill him when he snuck in and killed two of his men. In fact, Carl was probably the one person in the world who could do anything he wanted and go unpunished. Why wasn't that enough for Carl? If Rick or Daryl would have snuck in they would be dead in a minute. If Michonne or Rosita wanted more from him he would laugh in their face and kick them out. Why was Carl pushing it when he was already so lucky?
Carl was half way home when the sun finally tucked itself deep beneath the trees. Specks of light began to disappear and the twigs breaking and groaning began to get louder. This was stupid of him. To run away like a teenage girl when he gets upset, it's exactly the type of person Negan hates, but all he could think about when he watched Negan touch her was to get out. Leaving didn't fix anything, though. Negan was still buried deep beneath Carls skin. And the image of the girl with Negan was burned into his memory.
Carl gripped his gun so tight that his knuckles were white and his hand shook. He wouldn't admit it but he was scared. Walking alone used to feel cool. As if he was grown up and could take care of himself. In reality, though, Carl feared dying alone. What would happen if he got killed and never mad it back? Would they look or just assume he's dead? Or would someone convince his dad that he chose to run?
Cool air filled his lungs as Carl took a deep breath. Zombies weren't the biggest threat. Not anymore. They hadn't been since he was a kid. Zombies were driven by one thing. Hunger. Humans were what you needed to worry about. Driven by fear or greed or selfishness. They were unpredictable and ruthless. They planned and knew weaknesses and strengths. Humans were the real monsters left in the world. Tearing people apart limb by limb better than any zombie could.
Getting jumped had been a big fear ever since the prison burned down. When the man grabbed him and pressed the heat of his mouth against Carls skin. Carl hadn't been innocent since then. It hurt him. It continued to hurt him. Every day Carl would look in the mirror and see it. Feel it. Thinking about it makes him feel dizzy and powerless. Carl promised himself that he would never allow himself to be in a powerless position again. He would always be control. He would make the first moves and carry the most weapons. Carl would never allow himself to get hurt, not again.
Shaking his head, Carl attempted to push the thoughts out of his mind. He could remember it so clearly, so easily, he didn't even have to try. He tugged his hand through his hair and looked around, chewing his inner cheek. The path back home was short and easy. Torn up roads and dead bodies lead the way. Carl had walked it a million and one times, but he was still so scared. So jumpy.
Branches cracked and louder groans filled the air. Carl prayed, a thing he hadn't done in a while, that it wasn't a herd. He couldn't handle it. All he had was a knife and a gun. Carl swallowed and picked up his pace, moving as fast as he could. He shouldn't run. Running meant stomping and stomping meant a loud noise. That would be the last thing he needed if it was a herd.
He tried to stay towards the middle of the road. It gave him a good view of each side of the forest. If something was coming, hopefully he could see it. Traveling alone was always frowned upon, especially by his father. When you're alone theres no one to watch your back and to help fight. When you're alone its just hope, the one thing Carl lacked. Hope had been drained from him every step of the way. It began with his mom leaving with Shane, insisting that they would be safer and it ended the night Carls innocence was tainted.
Groans became louder as leaves and branches were crushed. Trees that hung over the rode shook leaves down onto the pavement as dead bodies ran into them without a second thought. They found him. Somehow. Or maybe they were just traveling and Carl was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The latter seemed more likely. Carl was always in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He stuffed his gun into his pants and pulled out his knife, rubbing one finger along with thin silver glimmer of metal. Gunshots will attract more. All he needed to do was stab a few and run. He could hide or just keep going. But if he didn't hide and just ran the zombies could follow him to Alexandria. His friends and family didn't need more work. More fear. Negan was already hanging over their head. Zombies would just make it worse. Carl jogged ahead, kneeling down and tying his shoes tight. He twisted around and shook his head.
Zombies, at least thirty of them filled the road, following him. Groaning. Falling. Grabbing. For a moment Carl wondered if they could feel it. Or if their thoughts died with them. He bit his lip and walked backwards. No time for thinking.
"Hey!" Carl shouted. "Eyes on me, alright? You gotta keep following me. I'm the only living thing for miles!" He smiled to himself. Being in control of zombies always made him feel a sick kind of power. Being in control of people, too. Negan could tell. He insists Carl was born to lead. Born to tear this world apart and rebuild it. The darkness of power was delicious, but Carl refused to indulge.
The zombies staggered towards him. It reminded him of when he was younger and lead two zombies through an empty town. The power that flowed through his veins. He got high off of it. It was childish of him though, to play with zombies, but it was the one thing he could control. He thought Judith was dead and his dad was dying. Carl had lost everything. Playing with zombies was one of the safer routes he could have taken.
Groans began to echo around him. More were coming. Filing into the group that followed him. Carl pulled out his gun, holding his knife in the other hand. He turned around and looked ahead. The road they were on branched off into two streets. One that could lead to Alexandria and one that could lead to some empty town that was falling apart at the seams.
"What did I say!?" Carl shouted once he turned around. A few zombies had falling off of the path, following a different noise into the woods. He rose his arm up and shot into the air. "Follow me! I'm what you want!" Carl kept his eye on the part of woods that drew the zombies in. What was attracting them? Zombies weren't drawn by more zombies. Was there another person? An animal? Either way, there was no way of helping whatever was in there. The shoulder of the road was too close to the group of zombies and the thing inside the woods was most likely already torn apart.
Carl was playing a dangerous game, shooting his gun with so many zombies already surrounding him. They were riled up and hungry. If one managed to get its hands on Carl he would be torn apart in seconds. Carl swallowed and started to run ahead of the herd, looking around. It was completely black outside, making it hard to tell what was on the other road. Not even the stars shined in the sky anymore. Carl wondered if the stars disappeared along with his hope.
Knocks began to hit the trees. Bang. Bang. Bang. Loud thuds blowing against the bark. Carl could hear the shards of wood fall from the tree onto the leaves. One by one, zombies began to follow the noise in the woods. Fifty went down to forty, then forty to thirty. Blindly following the noise. A few stuck around, still staggering towards Carl.
Carls eye was wide and it darted around as he turned around. What was happening? Who was making that noise? Most likely a skilled hunter if they could make a good diversion and not get killed in the process. They were smart. Carl stuffed his knife into his pants and held his gun with both hands. The grunts of the zombies walking towards him became background noise. His blood ran cold. A human was around and could see him. Carl refused to believe they were saving him. And if they were, it was only so they could take him as their own.
The zombies stepped closer but Carl didn't move. What if they had him surrounded? What if they had been watching him for a while? He couldn't go home if they had been watching. That would lead them to Alexandria, where they could kill or attack or fight them. Carl slowly began to move forward, his feet dragging. He didn't bother looking around at the zombies. In fact, if a zombie got him he would be lucky. All zombies do is eat. Humans torture and rape and beat before even considering murder. Carls stomach twisted in knots.
Carl started to walk further down the road, shooting one of the zombies in front of him. His hands were shaking worse than before as he whipped his head around, studying the surroundings. Zombies were coming from all directions now, stumbling towards him with extended arms. Flesh hung from their bodies, bits of bone showing on their arms and legs. Carl wanted to vomit and run and fight and scream all at once. But all he did was stand, take aim, and shoot.
The echo of gunshots filled Carls ears. The smell of rotten iron filled his nose as blood splattered across his body. His body was thrumming with fear but he was no longer shaking. He just shoot up straighter and fired every last bullet he had. Once his gun was empty Carl began bashing their skulls in, but he wasn't moving fast enough. Their hands grabbed and tore at his clothes, their groans surrounded him. Carl didn't stop hitting them, though.
Bodies began to fall around him, too fast for him to be the one killing them. Someone grabbed his wrist and yanked Carl into their chest, holding him tight. Carl pressed his face closer, wincing when a zipper scraped across his face. Leather filled his senses. The body and him stumbled backwards across the road. Carl twisted in the person's arms and jerked himself back.
"Negan!" Carl snapped. "What the fuck?! What- just what the fuck!? Why did you follow me? I-" Carl yanked his fingers through his blood covered hair. "I left an hour ago! Have you been stalking me?!"
Negan put his hands up in defense. "Not stalking. Following. For a good cause, too. You would've died out here without me." Negan reached out and smeared some blood across Carls face. "You look pretty in red.."
"No!" Carl stepped towards him. "You fucking scared the shit out of me! I thought I was going to get killed!"
"You almost were, kid." Negan smiled down at him. "You were stupid making them follow you. You're getting cocky."
Carl flipped him off. "I was fine. I didn't need you and your stupid bat to come and save me. I was handling it fine until you started pulling all of them away from me!"
"You mean when you just stood there frozen and scared? Yeah. You totally looked like you could have handled the situation." Negan rolled his eyes. "I thought this is the shit you wanted."
"What?" Carl laughed, dryly. "Do you really think that you know what I want? Because if you do you have a funny way of showing it."
"Look, you saw me with a girl-"
"This isn't about that!" Carl snapped. "This is about you following me around and killing everything around me because you think I'm some child who can't handle himself."
"I followed you because I didn't want to hear you got killed, alright?! I followed you because everyone said you ran out all dramatic and I wanted to make sure you were safe." Negan looked down at him, biting his cheek. "Do you not want me to care or some shit!?"
"I want you to leave me the hell alone so I can go home. Okay?" Carl stuffed his blood covered gun into his pants and walked backwards before turning around.
"I'm still gonna follow you." Negan called. "And you know that, you little shit."
Carl smiled, looking down. It was the first time he allowed himself to actually hear Negans words. Negan was worried and he cared. He cared enough to follow Carl home and make sure he was safe. "Good." He laughed.
"You got me wrapped around your finger, you know that?" Negan sighed, dragging Lucille across the pavement. "I really fucking hate it. You're turning me into some little bitch who wants to do all that dumb shit."
"You mean have a partner and treat them good?" Carl glanced at Negan over his shoulder. "If so, good."
"Fuck you." Negan sighed. "Kid.. I.." Negan stepped up behind him, handing Carl the bat. "You're not a kid, I get that, but you got a small knife and an empty gun." Negan curled Carls fingers around the smooth wood of the bat. "Take her home and treat her good, kay?"
Carl nodded, smiling when Negans scruff scratched across his neck. "Yeah, okay." He turned his head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Be safe."
Negan pulled away and nodded. "I think I can handle my own." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked ahead of Carl. "You can too, which makes this shit real fucking hard."
"I know." Carl replied. "But my mom once told me if it's easy, it's wrong."