Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Previously, in From Whence we Came:

The day his hometown was evacuated, Carl Grimes waited for his mother to pick him up from school, but Lori never came. Surviving by the skin of his teeth, he was later found by a group that called themselves the Saviors. And when the Saviors later found a town called Alexandria, Carl discovered a man he thought died when he was twelve years old. There, kneeling in the dust, with Lucille lingering over his head, was his father.

But Rick didn't recognize him. Known as 'Patch' by the Saviors, Carl managed to hide his identity as he helped his father's people from behind the scenes, saving the town from a bandit group called the 'Wolves' and even befriending a girl named Sophia in the process. But he could only continue the ruse for so long, his identity revealed publicly by Negan and his father forced to choose between his two children.

While severely injured, Carl survived imprisonment in Sanctuary, escaping with one of Negan's wives, Sherry. He escaped to the Kingdom, discovered Shane Walsh's survival, and befriended the king's adopted children before finally reuniting with his father. Hilltop, Kingdom, and Alexandria are newly allied, preparing for a surprise attack to go to war. But even as all the pieces begin to fall into place, it's possible that the Kingdom's reason for joining the alliance might be founded on a lie, a murder that Shane himself had a hand in.

But murder or not, the war is here. And Carl will need to put his past behind him if he's going to face Negan again. Forget the recent revelation that Judith is his half-sister. Forget the bad blood with Shane. And forget how he's about to gun down the very Saviors he used to live beside.

Carl is willing to do anything if it means keeping the ones he loves safe. And this is his chance to prove it.

The question is, at what cost?

Graphic art created using art by Deviantapplestudios and Robin Florie.

Chapter 19

When it comes to running an operation, Rick Grimes knows what he's doing.

Despite a last-minute alliance, recently acquired weapons, and only days to prepare, everyone knows their role. Sophia will be in the group herding the biters towards Sanctuary. Ben is accompanying King Ezekiel in the attacks against the outposts. Carl will be among the snipers at Sanctuary, while his father leads the initial confrontation against Negan.

Meaning they're all going their separate ways.

Meaning, theoretically, they may never see each other again.

Carl isn't used to farewells, or anything more meaningful than a 'good luck' nod to Dwight. But he somehow finds himself fist bumping Ben, leaning into his father's side, and smiling sadly at Sophia as King Ezekiel gives a final speech. It's inspiring. It gives people hope. It's what they need. And then Maggie gives her speech. And then Rick gives his speech.

They're leaders inspiring their people. And when Rick catches Carl's eye, he's a father inspiring his son. Maybe the man can be both a leader and a father, today, and Carl won't hold his father back. Maybe.

But the speeches are speeches Carl has heard before, with Saviors cheering around him instead of Alexandrians. So while others pump their fists to the sky, he stands idly by, waiting, an itch under his skin. Their idealism is nice, but it's boring. He's never needed Negan's rallying cries, before, and he doesn't need his father's now. He has a mission. A goal. And that's enough.

Carl's group leaves first. Rick wants them in position beforehand, carefully hidden away so that the charging team will have cover fire. Carl knows the layout of Sanctuary and its surrounding buildings better than anyone, so under the cover of a new moon, he leads the way.

It's strange to be at the head of the newly formed squad, especially given that he's not actually the squad leader. Sasha is. Sasha, who is apparently the same dark-skinned woman he had found with Maggie in that closet. She's also apparently the best shot Rick has ever seen. They only have one sniper rifle among them, the rest being long distance hunting rifles, and it rests in her palms.

While Carl initially feels awkward around her, he soon learns that she's a very matter-of-fact person. She's as cool and collected as Shane is hot-headed, and if she holds a grudge against Carl for their previous encounter, she doesn't show it. She's focused, she doesn't take shit from Shane, and she gets the job done.

Carl decides he likes her.

But there's still something odd about her. She holds the sniper rifle in her hand with an intense sense of purpose, and Carl wonders idly if she has a mission of her own, one that she's keeping from the team. Every so often she sets up cardboard boxes alongside the road, but for what reason, he doesn't know. He doesn't ask, and Sasha doesn't tell.

Somehow, having people that he doesn't entirely trust covering his six is strangely reassuring. It makes this feel like a proper mission, like he's with the Saviors again. It keeps him focused on his task even as he's wary of strangers' rifles at his back. So focused, in fact, that when they come within eyesight of Sanctuary, he isn't prepared for the wave of emotions that wash over him.

It feels like he's going home.

It also feels like he's walking towards his doom.

Because there's something Carl has been avoiding, has been dreading, and has been trying not to think about this entire time.

Negan.

He's going to see Negan again.

Carl hasn't spoken to the Savior leader since their confrontation in Alexandria. And to be honest, he's not sure how he's going to face the man.

Hiding who he was, was one thing. But being a part of this siege is a far more intimate betrayal, like a stray that's returned to bite its master. And while the people of Sanctuary had been surprisingly understanding during his imprisonment, he has a feeling their goodwill will disappear the moment he starts shooting at them.

Most of them deserve what's coming, the same way he did. They're selfish, and they've been knowingly oppressing others in order to take their goods. But others were just trying to scrape by, and Carl knows he will have to kill them, too, because he's made his choice. It's either the Saviors or his father; there isn't a world where they both can coexist peacefully. So there's no time for hesitation now.

That doesn't prevent the dread that's seeping into his bones.

Carl points out the different vantage points to Sasha. Despite Sanctuary's looming concrete build, the old factory has a series of window panels on its sides, so they assign at least two men to cover each wall. But the majority of the snipers take positions in the building closest to Sanctuary's entrance, where they can cover the vehicle gate and the balcony. That's Negan's quickest way out. If he tries a mass evacuation, that would be his escape route.

Their squad's approach is slow. Even in the twilight hours of the morning, Carl is hesitant to move too fast, or else risk drawing attention from the guards. From his binoculars, there are more people patrolling than normal, something he's likely responsible for, but they're all located in the same positions as before. Sasha's thumb trails over her radio, but she doesn't use it. It's too risky now, when anyone in Sanctuary might pick up their frequency. She's waiting until the last minute, until everyone is in position before notifying Rick.

Not that it matters. Because ten minutes ago, Carl's father gave the signal that the herd was on its way. This thing is happening whether they're in position or not.

The crumbling, abandoned warehouses at Sanctuary's outskirts only add to Carl's dread. But he gives a sigh of relief as they approach them, because once the squad has made it into the outlying buildings, they can secure their position without fear of being seen. He bites his lip as they enter, scanning various windows to see which ones would provide the best field of fire.

It's one thing to lead a herd to Sanctuary.

It's another thing to time leading that herd perfectly.

His father had been adamant about giving Sanctuary a chance to evacuate its civilians before using the herd. It was a sentiment that King Ezekiel heartily agreed with, but one that Carl thinks is utterly stupid. He knows what Negan's answer is going to be. Hell, no.

What if his father makes a big deal about this showdown, and then something goes wrong? Or the herd runs late? Negan would attack, and then the only backup the charge team would have would be the snipers. It would be a bloodbath.

Carl would rather use the herd to surround Sanctuary and then talk to Negan, civilians be damned. But the leaders have made their decision, and now Carl is just following their orders.

It doesn't make him any less nervous.

Sasha takes his advice, quietly choosing who will be stationed where. She doesn't want them clustered together in case they sustain heavy fire, but everyone needs to remain close enough to communicate without radios, too. It's a tricky thing, and it doesn't make Carl feel any better that this building's walls are made of cheap drywall, a stark contrast to Sanctuary's concrete.

And then they're ready.

And then they wait.

Honestly, this is the part Carl hates the most. The waiting. The suspense, the boredom that creeps in, making you inattentive when you should be alert. When Carl did pickups, there was always something going on, someone to watch. But before a fight, there's usually a strange routine of 'hurry up and wait', and it's a routine that drives him mad.

He tries to make himself useful. He's brought supplies, and lines the stairwells with cans and string, following in suit for the entryways. If someone manages to sneak in, attempting to take them out, he doesn't want to be caught by surprise. After he's finished, he tells each floor, making sure everyone knows not to trip over it on accident.

And then he waits.

And then he waits.

"We're going to kill Negan." Sasha whispers at last, breaking him from his listlessness. She's been watching him intensely, he realizes, no doubt noticing him fidgeting as he made his own nest by a window. "If Rick gives the signal, and I get a clear shot of him? I'm taking it. Can you handle that?"

Of course he can.

That's what this whole thing is about, right? It's either Rick or Negan, and Carl picks Rick. End of story. He nods, but Sasha's expression doesn't change.

"You're a little blood thirstier than you used to be." Shane interrupts from afar, grinning at her. "You wantin' to take down the big dog yourself, or are you gonna let us lil folks take a whack at him, too?"

Carl blinks at this, watching as Sasha's expression flickers. He doesn't know how long his father has known the woman, but they must go pretty far back if Shane knows her, too. She tightens the grip on her weapon, steadily meeting Shane's gaze.

"My father used to leave the news on when my brother and I were young, no matter how gruesome it was. He said it was important for us to understand the atrocities that happen in the world. I never understood why he did that, or why we should bother being depressed over things out of our control. But when Negan killed Abraham, I finally understood."

Shane seems baffled by her response, but that doesn't concern Sasha in the least. She uses her scope to study their surroundings, eyeing the guards in the distance.

"Knowing about those atrocities? It gives us a reason to take back that control. Negan took away Abraham's chance to go out fighting, so now? We're going to fight for him. For all of the fallen." She stops her search, raising an eyebrow at Carl. "And if any of us gets the chance, and I mean anyone, I expect you to take that son of a bitch down."

Oh. So that's why she's been so cold.

Abraham was one of the men killed in the execution circle, Carl recalls. The beefy redhead. If she was in the execution circle that day, and Abraham was her friend, then she has good reason to distrust him. He nods, tightening the grip on his own rifle as he looks out into the courtyard.

"I will."

"Good." She says flatly. "Then we both understand each other."

He's hesitant to meet her gaze, unsettled by that unwaveringly calm expression of hers. But when he sneaks a peek, he's surprised to see her lips tilted to the side in amusement as she stares at him.

"And Patch?"

"Yes m'am?"

"No more shoving me into closets."

He nearly chokes on his own spit at that.

As unhappy as he is to be stuck behind the scenes, the abandoned office they're occupying is a fantastic vantage point. When his father comes, he'll be able to see things the assault group can't.

He also has a clear view of the biters in the perimeter fence.

He tries not to think about them, to not search for faces he might recognize. But boredom gives way, and soon he's muttering under his breath as he counts them, one by one.

He doesn't see Dwight.

He does see Doc Harlan, or what's left of him. Carl isn't sure what the doctor might have done to draw Negan's ire, but the ligature marks around the groaning cadaver's neck suspiciously resemble the stethoscope still draped around his neck. Carl may not have known the man well, but he had hoped that he would survive this far, to fix the teen's sutures if nothing else.

For Negan to be willing to kill a doctor, Harlan must have really done something to piss him off. But the doctor was so submissive, so passive, Carl can't imagine what that could be. He stares at the cadaver. While impaled on a spike, the corpse rises and falls on the metal bar, stretching in a pitiful attempt to get to whatever he's reaching for beyond.

The doctor had knelt for Negan in life, and now he kneels for him in death.

There's probably a deeper meaning to that, one Carl doesn't want to dwell on. His trigger finger itches. He makes a note to himself to save a bullet for the man, to put him out of his misery when the fighting begins.

"Your old boss is one hell of a decorator." Shane jokes in a whisper, chewing on a piece of gum.

Carl only grunts in response. He doesn't feel like sharing with the other man, who is in a surprisingly chipper mood given their conversation the day before. The ex-deputy's smiling falters, the chewing coming to a stop as he evaluates the teen. Out of all the windows Shane decided to pick, did he really have to choose the one right next to Carl?

"Look, about yesterday......"

And there it is. There's the tone of voice that reminds Carl of how Shane used to be. It's the good ol' boy, law-enforcement uncle that watched over him like a mother hen. He's acting like Carl is still his adopted nephew or whatever, like everything that's happened over the past week was just an unfortunate misunderstanding.

He left Carl behind on accident. He left Rick behind on accident. He got Mom pregnant on accident. Richard died on accident.

Yeah. Just a misunderstanding.

"It's done." Carl mutters, looking away. "We both told Dad we're good, so we're good."

He wishes Shane would just shut up and leave the matter alone. They need to work together for what's about to happen. He needs to be able to trust that the other man won't do something incredibly stupid. Even while they're whispering, the snipers closest to the two can likely hear their conversation, a fact that makes the teen uneasy.

"That's bullshit, and you know it." Shane challenges.

Carl rolls his eyes, glancing warily at the perimeter fence below, at the guards beyond. "Is this really the time, Shane?"

"There's never a good time for shit like this. If one of us dies today…. do you really want our last conversation to end the way it did? Because trust me, I've been there. When I thought I lost your Dad-"

Carl can see Sasha turn to look at them out of the corner of his eye. She must have been at the Prison, he realizes, when the two men had fought against the Governor. Carl files that fact for another day, but shrugs, focusing instead on keeping watch outside his window.

"I really don't give a damn, Shane."

"Nah, that's bullshit, too. You're tellin' me if I got shot in the head, right here and right now, you wouldn't regret anything? Anything at all?"

Would he? Regret anything?

Of course he would. He regrets not being able to put his trust in the other man, that he would never go on all the hiking trips the ex-deputy had once promised him. He regrets that he ever found out what became of Shane in the apocalypse, that a man that had been one of his idols growing up had been revealed to be a complete and utter tool.

The whole dilemma reminds him of another idol he's about to face. Another unveiling that's about to happen, only hours from now. Shane sighs, the chipper facade falling and the chewing coming to a stop. He looks out a window, his eyes as glazed as a biter's.

"Regrets stay with you, kid. You tell yourself that you don't give a damn to get through it all. But if you lie to yourself long enough, those lies break you. Trust me, I know."

Something about the man's sheer honesty speaks to Carl, and he shifts uncomfortably at it. He's beginning to believe Shane. Not trust him, but at least believe that the man's failures weren't intentional, at least.

Carl saved a bullet for Harlan. He saves another one for Shane, just in case.

But he still extends an olive branch.

"You're not broken. You're just an idiot." He says at last, letting his lips twitch upwards. His teasing must work, because that dead glaze disappears, Shane's eyes coming back into focus as he turns to look back at the teen.

"And you sound just like your mother." The ex-deputy grins.

Shane is joking, Carl knows he's joking, but the mention of Lori chills his blood. He opens his mouth to snap at the other man, but Shane seems to realize his own mistake, raising his hands in an unarmed gesture.

"Sorry, sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned her. I meant that as a compliment. She was good at keepin' people in line, callin' 'em out when they got hairbrained ideas."

"Never stopped you from doin' 'em, though."

"Well, you know how the saying goes. You can lead a horse to water, but ya can't make 'em drink." The man says wistfully, fiddling with a necklace that's been tucked beneath his shirt. He frowns, taking a shuddering breath.

"Look, I know I'm not--- I know I've screwed up my chances with you and Rick, I get that. But you two, Judy...... you're all I got left. I'm Captain of the Guard, now. I should be out there at the outposts with my guys, with the King. But with the way things are now, sometimes you gotta pick between two choices, and neither of 'em end good. Some of my guys are probably gonna die out there today, when I coulda stopped it. And I'm gonna have to live with that. But at the end of the day, I chose to cover you, not them. That thing we talked about---"

Shane breaks off, suddenly seeming more aware that there are others within earshot. "--- that thing we talked about yesterday? The thing that I did? I'd do it again. Because you, your dad, Judy, none of you are gonna be safe as long as Negan is alive."

Shane had two choices, and so does Carl.

Let his father down, or let Sanctuary down.

It's not a choice at all.

So why does he still feel guilty?

Eventually, Sasha shushes them, and all of the squad falls back into silence, with only crickets and the distant groaning of biters to keep them occupied.

But then, Carl hears it. Everyone hears it.

Sasha's radio sounds, and Carl's father's voice is heard over the static.

They're here. This is happening. The grumble of vehicle engines sound in the distance. It's still early morning, the sun not yet peaking over the horizon, but there's just enough light for Carl to make out what's going on. The assault group's fleet is approaching Sanctuary.

The few guards that are on duty raise their rifles as they try to figure out what's happening. But the darkness must prevent them from seeing clearly, because they don't fire. They merely watch, grabbing their own radios as they no doubt try to rouse the sleeping residents within.

Over a dozen vehicles roll through the streets, large sheets of metal bonded to their sides. The sheets won't repel all bullets that come their way, but they still serve their purpose. The vehicles slide into place, the large metal sheets lining up to create a barrier that can be used as cover. The U-hauls roll up behind the metal barrier in their humvee armor, getting into position.

But there's one part of the plan Carl is unfamiliar with, and his previous advice about Rick only informing each team about their own job comes back to bite him. Among the throng of vehicles, two RV's hang back. They're heavily outfitted, clearly intended for a different purpose than the others. But what?

Carl doesn't have time to puzzle through it. Now that everything is in position, armed men and women pour out of the vehicles. While the Saviors had always been organized, Carl has to admire his father's own methods. The hastily assembled civilians practically look like special ops, rifles raised and ready as they all look to the same man for their instructions.

Carl spots his father's curly hair as the older man takes cover by the front-most barrier. With a series of hand-signals that the people around him understand, everyone in the charge group simultaneously raise their rifles to the sky and fire.

Well, if the guards hadn't woken Negan up by now, that sure did.

As cool and terrifyingly brilliant as this setup is, Carl's heart is still beating out of his chest. He vaguely recalls his days of reading Roman war tactics back at the Kingdom. There was a reason most generals hung back, stayed at the back of the troops rather than out in the open. King Ezekiel might be elsewhere, leading an attack against an outpost, but Rick and Maggie are both here at the very front of it all. If something happens, where would the rebellion be without Rick Grimes? And where would Carl be without his father?

One well placed RPG, or one sniper, aiming out of Sanctuary's looming windows would be all it took for this rebellion to be over. Sasha leans into her sniper rifle, no doubt watching the entrances. Waiting for her own opportunity.

It takes a few minutes before she has one.

Carl's not sure he breathes that entire time.

The balcony door opens. A figure steps out onto the second floor. Carl isn't the only one that sleeps in his boots, or in his work clothes. Despite the early hour, Negan is impeccably groomed as he strolls out, Lucille over his shoulder. He also looks absolutely pissed.

Carl glances at Sasha. She has her hand in the air, a signal to the others to wait for her until the firing begins. While the charge group is out in the open, the Saviors haven't realized the snipers are there. She watches Rick like a hawk, her other hand gripping her rifle like it's taking everything she has to hold back her fire.

Carl's father wanted the civilians to have a chance to evacuate. If the shooting begins now, before he can lay out his terms, they'll lose that chance.

But they could kill Negan now.

They could pin down Sanctuary with the herd now.

Carl shakes as he watches, still holding his breath.

Negan isn't the only one to stroll out. His lieutenants follow. Simon stands armed in a leather jacket and longjohn's, his hair ridiculously bedraggled. The man who handled the Kingdom's pickups, Gavin, is there as well, scarcely in any better condition. The woman who handled day to day affairs in Sanctuary is present, too. But it's the last person that causes Carl to release that breath he had been holding this entire time.

Dwight stands among the lieutenants, crumpled as he is alert. He's alive. Looking incredibly nervous, but still alive. But.... how is he alive? Did he betray Carl's father, and tell Negan what was going on?

Obviously not. Because while Negan strolls forward with his usual confidence, leaning against the balcony's edge as he scowls, his eyes are calculating. He's surprised by this assault, coldly sizing the situation up even as he smiles. There's no glimmer in his eyes, no indication that he has something up his sleeve. He genuinely wasn't expecting this.

At some point, Negan must recognize the vehicles and put two and two together on exactly who is attacking, because his body language completely changes. He shifts forward, seething even as he smirks.

"What---" he barks, his voice echoing between the buildings, "--- is it with you and attackin' people in their sleep, Rick?"

Just like that. Like he's dealing with a misbehaving child rather than a siege on his doorstep. Like he's not standing out in the open with his head exposed, and like Rick isn't doing the same.

"I knocked." His father booms from behind the barriers. "Which is more than I would have done, if you didn't have civilians in there."

"Most people don't 'knock' at five in the goddamn morning." Negan snorts. He leans back on his haunches, Lucille rolling across his shoulder. He peers over the barriers, trying to get a better look at what he's facing.

"I see you got your little mudflaps with you." He growls, looking at where some Hilltop residents are crouching.

"You act like you're being generous to my 'civilians', but what about yours, Rick? I'm not exactly seein' a reason for us to be throwin' lead at each other. You pay your dues, and we take out the big guys. That's how this relationship works. I care about my people. I don't march them in the line of fire just because I want to play 'my dick is bigger than yours'. It is bigger. We both know it. I have the firepower, the numbers, and you don't. But- I'm also comfortable enough to accept the fact if it wasn't. I'm certainly not going to let my people die over that shit…..like you're about to."

Carl shudders as Negan's register lowers. It's the tone the leader reserves for when he's about to unleash hell, the same tone he took before slaughtering the Claimers. And even though Carl knows what Negan doesn't, how every outpost is about to be simultaneously hit at the same time, he struggles to keep his trigger finger steady at its sound. Negan continues, his gaze darkening.

"So, I'm going to ask you this one time, before you do something stupid like getting everyone's favorite redneck killed. What the hell can I do for you, Rick?"

But Carl's father is unwavering. He ignores Negan, ducking from under cover just enough to point up at the balcony.

"You. You're Dwight. And you? Your name's Simon. You're Gavin. And you....?"

"Regina." The Savior woman responds, looking to Negan before scowling back down at Rick. But Carl's father just nods, repeating her name as if committing it to memory.

"You four, the Saviors inside, all of you have a chance to survive here, to survive this. If you surrender? Hand over Daryl, unharmed? You can live. But you have to make your choice, now, right now. I won't be able to guarantee the same later. I understand better than anyone that not all of you agree with what Negan does, or have had a choice. But this? This is your choice."

Choice.

Why does it always come down to a choice?

But even as the anticipation builds, there's something noticeably lacking. The only biters Carl can hear are those on the perimeter fence. The herd should be approaching by now. This discussion of theirs can only last for so long. Did his father really leave that much time for the potential evacuation, or has something gone wrong?

Negan guffaws. "So that's your master plan? They surrender to you, and you and your little piss patrol don't kill them? Well gee, Rick, that sounds like a good deal. " He says snidely. "But where does that leave me?"

"You know what's going to happen to you. I told you, the day you killed Glenn and Abraham. I'm going to kill you." Rick growls, so quiet, that Carl can barely hear. Beside him, Sasha shifts, readying her weapon as if to put Negan in her crosshairs. Carl doesn't know how she has the willpower to hold back. She should kill Negan now.

If she kills Negan now, Carl won't have to face him.

But does he really want that? For Negan to just.... die?

Of course he does. He wants it the same way he wants Shane to shut up and carry on with business, rather than drag all of their drama out. He just wants to get past this, to move on, and to not carry those regrets with him the same way Shane does.

But his father doesn't send a signal, and Sasha doesn't pull that trigger.

She swears lowly, obviously irritated. When she notices the look Carl sends her, she shakes her head, grinding her teeth. "Rick never sent word about Carol." She explains, her eyes darkening. "I'm not sentencing Daryl to death without Rick's command."

Her words send a chill down Carl's spine.

Because she's right.

Negan had just mentioned Daryl like nothing had changed, like the other man was still his prisoner. But then again, the Saviors had just woken up. Did Negan still have the man, or had Carol snuck him out in time, and the leader just didn't know it yet?

"I do. I do know what's going to happen, but you don't." Negan continues. "You have no idea the shit that's about to go down. Let me ask you something, Rick- do you really think you have the numbers for this fight?"

Carl knows what this must look like. While the fleet of vehicles is impressive, it's still a far cry from the resources the Saviors have at their disposal. And from the balcony, Negan can't get a good look at the number of men behind the metal barriers. Even if he could, what of it? Twenty or thirty people against Sanctuary itself? It would be stupid. But Negan should know better, should know that Rick wouldn't be the type of person to lead this sort of attack without a plan in place.

"Hilltop stands with Alexandria!" Maggie shouts. As she shouts, Rick motions towards the snipers' building. It must not be the signal Sasha has been waiting for, because she doesn't move. Instead, Shane responds, shooting his weapon into the sky.

"The Kingdom stands with Alexandria!" He shouts, grinning madly.

Somewhere below, a familiar voice cries out. Cyndie, the granddaughter that had stepped between Carl and a bullet.

"Hallowbrant stands with Alexandria! Oceanside stands with Alexandria!"

Other people follow their leaders, chanting alongside them. They all have different voices, and they all come from different places, but they all speak as one.

And they stand with Alexandria.

The chanting reveals the snipers' location, but it also serves its purpose. It mimics the eerie whistling that Negan used to corral the communities into execution circles. The Saviors look unnerved as they realize the same thing Negan does, that there are more troops hidden among the surrounding buildings. Negan's head snaps to the side as he eyes the crumbling walls, taking in the number of people that might be lying in wait behind them.

It's not as many people as he thinks. Most of the troops are attacking the outposts, after all. But before, it was only obvious that Rick had allied with Hilltop. Now, it's apparent that Carl's father has done much, much more than that.

An explosion sounds in the distance.

Carl blinks, snapping his attention to the horizon, searching for the source of the noise. Sasha isn't phased at all, her scope still locked on Negan.

This is it, then. That must be the herd. Negan is running out of time.

"You lieutenants are going to have to make up your minds." Rick shouts. "You want to live? Then you hand over Daryl, you hand over Negan, and we'll get your civilians out while there's still time. This is your final warning."

The lieutenants teeter on their haunches, Gavin and Regina the most noticeably swayed. Dwight's expression is carefully blank, but Simon is taken aback, bristling under Rick's mocking words. They're the same words that Simon had reserved for Hallowbrant.

But it's what Negan is doing that concerns Carl. While Gavin pleads for more time, to be given a chance to think about this, Negan is unperturbed. He's even whistling.

It's a whistle that Carl knows.

Just as Rick communicates with hand signals in the field, Negan communicates with whistles. He uses it to unnerve his enemies, who hear the Saviors whistling eerily as they find themselves surrounded. But he also uses it to give commands.

Up. Leader. Shoot.

Carl lunges for Sasha's radio, ignoring how the woman recoils at the sudden movement.

"Dad, the whistling. He's telling the Saviors above to shoot you." He says desperately, taking his own rifle and aiming for the upper floors. Sure enough, through the windows, he can make out figures moving across the glass.

For a split moment, Carl thinks that he hasn't warned his father in time. In the few seconds it took for him to speak, someone who was ready and waiting could have shot his father to pieces, the same way Sasha could have shot Negan mere seconds ago.

But somehow, whether the rooftop guards are groggy from the early hour, or whether people were still reeling from Rick's last warning, Rick and Maggie both dodge in time, ducking through the barriers and taking cover behind one of the armored U-hauls.

As Rick takes cover, he motions another signal, one that causes Sasha to jump to attention and lower her hand. Her movement is clear. Fire at will.

She's fully focused on Negan's head now, and so is Carl. It's a long shot for his rifle, but Sasha has a chance. He lines up his scope, watching a distant clothesline hanging out a window to tell him which direction the wind is blowing. From this distance, every little thing matters.

He's done this before. He's taken killing shots dozens of times without a problem. He shot that kid at the gas station without even hesitating.

But now?

Now his hands are shaking.

His body is betraying him. He's shaking all over, he realizes, and even as he clenches and unclenches his fists, as he grinds his teeth, he can't keep his hands steady. He fires wildly. It obviously misses, and Negan and the other lieutenants are diving for the door to take cover.

Out of the corner of Carl's eye, he sees Sasha line up her own shot.

She has him. If she's as good of a shot as her father claims, she has him.

But as she shoots, the fabric on the clothesline shifts, suddenly blowing to the other side. The woman must have been accounting for the wind as well, because even with the superior rifle, her shot lands on Gavin, instead. The man crumples into a heap.

Soon, that door swings shut, the other Saviors disappearing behind it. Negan is back inside Sanctuary. Uninjured, unharmed. He's still alive. He got away.

And Carl still can't stop shaking.

Another explosion sounds. He swallows hard, forcing himself to focus. It sounds closer, and now another buzzing noise accompanies it, the familiar thrum of an engine. But it's a different rumble than that of the trucks or the U-hauls. It's a motorcycle.

And that's when Carl sees her.

He feels like he's in a dream, like he's watching someone else's body take the sight in. His gun is practically useless in his hands, but in the distance, a teenage girl riding a motorbike drifts through the streets, with the largest herd Carl has ever seen shuffling behind her. Using one hand to steady the bike, she lowers her other hand and takes aim with a pistol, firing at a cardboard box ahead of her.

A cardboard box that Sasha had specifically placed there, when their squad had approached Sanctuary only hours prior.

Cardboard blows apart in a burst of fire, drawing the biters' attention and bringing any of the straggling dead back into the fold. Amidst the chaos, Sophia drives through a wall of smoke and flame, looking like it's just another day. She's determined. Unwavering.

And completely and utterly hot.

Carl has never had such a spike in completely different emotions hit him at the same time. He's still shaking from the confrontation with Negan, still hopeful from everyone's chanting. But among the fear, the dread, the hope - his dick has decided to tent in his pants.

He nearly gags.

He's horrified. He swallows hard, praying nobody sees, and shifts in a way that he hopes will obscure the bulge. He hasn't had an erection since.... since....

Carl doesn't get the chance to finish his train of thought. As Sophia suddenly diverts the bike, heading towards the safety of the outlying buildings rather than driving into the firefight, Carl's father booms over the radio.

"This is it! Snipers, shoot out those windows. Get the cannons ready! Send in the RV's!"

Rick continues barking out commands, and Carl's eyes widen as he sees the barrier vehicles drive to the side, opening up their self-made cover. He's starting to understand his father's plan. Sophia doesn't have to shoot another cardboard box. She doesn't have to lead the herd into the heart of Sanctuary, because now the cannon-fire is going to draw in the herd for her.

Barrier vehicles drive apart, leaving just enough room for the U-hauls to slip through. The U-haul doors roll up, revealing the cannons. They fire.

Glass breaks out across Sanctuary, snipers shooting out each window. Cannonballs soar across the sky, ripping through the upper floors. Concrete walls burst at the impact points, sending shrapnel crumpling onto guards in the courtyard below.

Carl keeps firing. The shaking in his hands has dwindled, but his erection hasn't gone away. He isn't turned on anymore, but the uncomfortable bulge does remind him to search for Sophia. Distantly, he can hear tin cans rattling. She must have made it into the sniper building. He sighs, relieved, before turning his attention back to the field.

The cannons aren't the only trick Rick has up his sleeve. The strange RV's roll forward as well, their drivers bailing out of the vehicles as they do. Without passengers, they're rolling straight towards different points of the perimeter fence, tearing through the chain-link fencing.

And then they explode.

People are whooping across the radio. Hell, Shane is shouting right by Carl's ear. Sasha tightens her grip around her weapon, obviously irritated at losing her chance to take Negan down, but she has words of her own to convey across the radio.

"Good job, Rosita. You did Abe proud."

Rosita. The latina woman, Carl recalls. From Sasha's reaction, the other woman must be the source behind the explosions. He vaguely remembers his father giving the woman the map from Abraham, and how reverently she had held the dead man's handwriting. She must have been close to him, too.

"Thanks. But next time, Williams? Do us all a favor and aim for his body, not his cabesa. Even hotshots like you can miss."

Sasha growls at the other woman. "The wind---"

"Keep the frequency clear!" Rick interjects as gunshots are heard through the radio, echoing what Carl can hear live. "Focus on the now. Snipers, give us cover fire. Everyone else, retreat to your assigned positions. U-hauls, roll up those doors and go silent as soon as you get to where you're goin'. Those walkers will be comin' after you, next. Everyone ready?"

"Oh, I'm ready." A voice replies. The sound of it causes Carl to flinch, and others have similar reactions, gunfire faltering.

"The question is.... are you ready, Patch?"

It's Negan.

Negan has found their frequency.

Negan has found their frequency, and is specifically calling him out on it.

"Or should I say, Frankenstein Grimes?" The older man mocks.

Carl parts his lips, but can't manage any words. They're all caught in his throat, his tongue thick and useless. He can't control his hands, he can't control his dick, and now, he can't even control his own tongue. How did it come to this? How was he able to hold his own and look Negan dead in the eye back in Alexandria, while being reduced to a useless puddle now?

"Should have figured you were involved with this, kid. That's how pricky Ricky knew to get the hell out of dodge, isn't it? Tell me. How was the reunion? Did you and Rick hug it out? No baseball bats included this time, I hope?" Negan coos, tutting as he does.

"Leave him out of this." Rick growls over the line. He's breathing heavily, no doubt running to safety. Carl should look. He should figure out where his father is, and specifically provide cover fire for him. But he's still stuck in his seat, holding out his rifle even as his hands refuse to move.

"I gotta admit, Rick. I'm surprised at you. I mean, I saw his potential on the battlefield, but you bringin' him here? That takes balls. So you two found each other. That's great. Lifetime movie moment, I bet. But I wonder how Daryl is going to feel about that? You didn't dare to pull this little stunt when it was your own son locked in here, but now that it's just some backyard redneck's life on the line, it's fine, right?"

His father doesn't respond for a moment. Negan presents a fair argument, but Carl knows that his father's silence is only from caution. Whatever is going on with the rescue plan.... Negan doesn't know about it. Not yet. And Rick doesn't want to clue the other man in.

Biters are drawing closer now, openly swarming the courtyard. But they're scattered, and not all of them are lunging for Sanctuary, instead going for the source of the last major sound, the abandoned vehicles. The occupied U-hauls. Wheelock is out there, somewhere, and if they don't manage to divert the biters' attention, the U-hauls might be swarmed.

"If I were you, I'd think twice before killing our man." Rick seethes. "You do that, then we kill Sherry."

And there it is.

Rick just dropped a bomb. And all pretence of teasing and snide mocking is thrown out the window as Negan's reply breaks out over the radio.

"What did you just say?"

Before Carl can hear his father's response, a commotion sounds from the very room Carl is occupying. Tin cans rattle, followed by the heavy breathing of a teenage girl. Sophia swears under her breath, tripping over Carl's string traps as she hastily looks around.

"Stairs." She gasps, holding her pack awkwardly in her hand. Rocket-like objects stick out, too long to fit properly. Are those.... fireworks?

"There aren't any." Shane informs her, his eyes widening. "This is the highest you're gonna get. What are you....?"

Sophia ignores him, instead dashing towards the nearest window. The one that Shane just left open. The one beside Carl.

She ignores Carl, too, hastily grabbing a candle lighter from her pack and positioning the fireworks. She's aiming for above Sanctuary, he realizes. But as she struggles with the candle lighter, it refuses to flick on. Carl digs into his pockets, and holds out his cigarette lighter.

She takes it, and it ignites.

She aims.

She fires.

Fireworks surge forward, bursting into streaks of red and blue above Sanctuary's rooftop. Carl winces at the sound, the exploding gunpowder mimicking the series of cannon-fire that had broken out only moments before. Others have stopped to watch, and the break in gunfire lasts just long enough for the fireworks to catch the biters' attention. They've started shuffling away from the vehicles, heading right towards the heart of Sanctuary.

Leave it to Rick Grimes to think of everything.

Sophia prepares another rocket, waiting a moment before sending it streaking across the sky. Sweat drips down her face, soaking the collar of her denim jacket. He's seen her wear it before, but something is different about it, now. Someone has intricately stitched a rose into the fabric, thorned vines stretching out across the shoulders and winding down her sleeves.

"That's for Daryl, you bastard." She says, catching her breath.

And as he watches colors sprinkle across the sky, above what used to be his home, Carl catches his breath, too.

Hurry up and wait.

That's the mantra of the morning.

It doesn't take long for what's left of the Savior guards that survived the barrage of shrapnel to retreat back inside. Rick's group follows in suit, snipers providing cover fire long enough for the assault group to retreat behind the herd.

The sound of a groaning herd is always unsettling, but the atmosphere somehow makes it more so. A few of Sanctuary's upper floors have been utterly decimated, entire rooms visible from where Carl sits. The building groans, and Carl marvels that the structure hasn't started to collapse in on itself.

Somewhere in the distance, a child is crying. Not nearly as young as Judith- children didn't usually last long in Sanctuary, but someone who might be around Henry's age. A pit forms in Carl's stomach as he listens.

Rick was kinder than Carl would have been, making every effort to convince Negan to evacuate.

That doesn't make him feel any better.

He didn't hear the rest of his father's and Negan's conversation, too distracted by Sophia's arrival and the fireworks that followed. But he hears his father's weary voice sound below, hears the tinkling of the cans on the stairs, and knows that his father is coming up.

The skirmish is over.

The siege has begun.

As soon as Rick is in sight, Sophia beats Carl to the punch, rushing forward and inquiring after her mother. But to her disappointment, there's no news. Carol never checked in last night.

Carl doesn't know what that means.

Nobody knows what that means. Negan had balked at Rick's idea of a hostage exchange, but agreed to hold off on executing the hunter, for now. Sophia has been quiet for a while. There's a very good possibility that she just helped trap both Daryl and her mother inside that building. If he were in her shoes, Carl would probably be quiet, too.

He greets his father with a weary smile, and his father does the same, nodding and moving forward to embrace him, before drawing back as he thinks better of it. Maggie and Cyndie fall in line behind him, the latter's eyes widening slightly as she spots Carl. She doesn't say anything, but he ducks his head under her gaze.

"Alright." Rick says. "Everyone knows the plan. He's not budging, so we're going to wait him out. Let the lieutenants stew on things for a bit, see if they turn on him when they start running out of supplies."

"And the outposts?" Cyndie asks, biting her lips. "My grandmother's out there. If they need reinforcements, I can---"

"We hold tight for now. Just long enough for Negan to know that he's not going anywhere. By then, we should know more about what outposts might need help. Maggie--- you should fall back to Hilltop. You've done more than enough, here." Rick says gently, eyeing the woman's stomach.

The Hilltop leader looks a bit pale, but leans back with a smile, crossing her arms. "They say you can wage war all the way through the second trimester. I'm here if you need me, Rick."

"Glenn would haunt me for the rest of my days if I let anything happen to you or that baby." Rick interjects, shaking his head. "Negan knows where Hilltop stands. I'm here, Jesus, Natalia, and the King are all dealing with the outposts. If the worst happens, we need someone these people can fall back on. How's Gregory?"

Maggie chuffs, shaking her head. "Tied up with a gag in his mouth. Even if he got loose, nobody would follow him. Hilltop followed Jesus, not him."

"And now, Jesus follows you." Rick reminds her warmly, wiping the sweat off his brow. He stares at the radio, deep in thought.

"You gonna glare Negan to death?" Maggie chides, gathering her gear. "Or talk him to death, maybe?"

"Anything that results in his death is fine by me." Shane quips, eyeing the two. "If he's still got Daryl, he's gonna wanna see Sherry, soon. She might work at a distance, but you think she's gonna pass up close? If she's the ruckus I've been hearin' downstairs, she's awful growly."

"We have to try." Sophia whispers, grabbing their attention. She fingers one of the embroidered thorns on her sleeve, not looking them in the eye. "We can't just sit here and do nothin'."

For a moment, Carl can't look away from her. As much as he strays from others touch, he wants to comfort her somehow. To pull her into his arms and tell her everything is going to be okay. But with every second that passes by, the more he knows that it likely won't be.

Carl pulls his gaze away, accidentally meeting Shane's eyes. The man raises an eyebrow at the two of them, smirking. He scowls at the man, at what he's silently insinuating. He doesn't snap at Shane, but he doesn't comfort Sophia, either. He doesn't make a choice at all.

But that's the other mantra for the morning, isn't it? That, for some reason, now that it's more important than ever, he's freezing up rather than making a goddamn decision. Why can't he just pull the trigger and be done with it? Why can't he just snap out of it and stop his teeth from chattering?

Static interrupts his train of thought.

"So....... Patch. You ready to talk yet?"

He's not freezing up, not now, not today. Stay quiet, keep his head down, bide his time, and let Negan get bored. That's what he always used to tell himself.

Well, that time is now. And he's done being quiet. He chooses his dad. He chooses Rick.

He reaches for his father's utility belt, where his radio resides. It's the same belt Carl had spotted in Alexandria, with the sheriff's department insignia still stitched on its side. His father moves to stop him, and they meet each other's gaze.

"We need to know what he knows, Dad. He's just gonna goad us. Ain't nothin' else he can do from in there."

"If someone could find a way, it would be him." Rick reminds him, gritting his teeth. After a long moment, he hands the radio over, standing right beside his son as Carl flicks it on.

He holds a breath.

He lets it go.

And then he speaks.

"Ain't never been one for talkin', Negan. You know that." He says at last.

For a moment, there's a breath of silence. Carl is painfully aware of how many people are listening into this conversation. All of the nearby snipers. Sasha. Sophia. Shane. Many of the people who were on the field with his father are present, too. Maggie. Cyndie. The preacher. He can feel their eyes upon him, listening in, waiting for him to mess up. Judging him. Getting a glimpse into the weird drama that is Carl Grimes's life.

But something about the crowd helps snap Carl out of it. His tongue is still thick, but the teeth chattering has grinded to a halt. School plays used to terrify Carl as a child, but now the theatrics of it all calm him. Negan is putting on a show. Carl's putting on a show. It's like the showdown with the Commonwealth all over again, only this time, it's personal.

"That's what I always loved about you. Never argued, never whined, just got shit done. You were the one person I never had to worry about. I had to pat Simon here on the back every so often, or pull a little show-and-tell with Sherry to keep Dwight in line. But you? Never thought I'd have to worry about you. Guess I was wrong."

Negan is seething, trying to goad the teen. But he also.... he also sounds betrayed.

For everything Negan has done to Carl, done to other people.... he had been there when Rick and Shane hadn't. He had trained Carl how to use weapons, how to be strong, and had made him feel important.

Carl wants Negan's approval, even now. But he knows he'll never get it, not without losing his father's.

"I would have died for you, Negan." He says truthfully. "You just had shit luck, in the end."

Negan barks out a bitter laugh at this. "We make our own luck, Patch. First person I trust since this whole damn apocalypse started, and you go and hold my wife hostage and bring a mob to my doorstep. My mistake. I get it kid, I do. Rick's your old man. He's blood. Everyone wants to do their old man proud. But tell me somethin', Patch. If he loves you so much, why the hell didn't he even recognize you?"

Carl can feel rather than see his father bristling beside him, can sense shifting among the crowd.

Well, this is awkward.

But Negan doesn't stop there.

"I remember you and that little hat of yours, comin' to me after a nightmare. There were plenty of nights where I could've been gettin' laid, but instead I spent them talkin' shit out with you. You know why I did that? Because I cared about you, Patch. I get it, your dad was your hero. Is your hero. But that bastard is using you. Whether it's to make him feel like he's not a complete failure---"

"I was doin' it to keep you safe."

"That's not your job! It's mine….. It was my job to keep you safe, and I- and I-"

"--- or whether it's because he stumbled on the one person who would help him stage this pissy little coup of his---"

"He's still old enough to kill one of us. If he lays a hand on one of our people, we deal with it. Otherwise, we keep an eye on him. I want a guard on him, 24/7."

"I need someone who knows how Negan thinks at Sanctuary while those outposts are being taken down..."

"--- he's using you. He's probably been telling you how long he's been searching for you, how much he's missed you….but he didn't even fucking recognize you, Patch. And when he did? He chose that baby over you."

Carl doesn't have a response to that. He doesn't.

Because Negan's not lying.

And Carl's.... Carl's okay with that. Because his father might be using him, but Rick also.... Rick also loves him. Carl thinks he does, anyways. And he likes having his father's back, the same way he once had Negan's. He likes backing Rick up in his confrontation against Shane, feeling valuable to his father.

Negan isn't lying. The Sanctuary leader did care about Carl.

But only because of what Carl could do for him, too.

Carl shrugs. "You didn't even know my name, Negan."

The accusation hits hard. He reckons it even stuns the other man for a moment, long enough for Carl to realize his father's eyes are alight in fury at Negan's words, that the other man had been reaching for the radio before Carl had interrupted him.

But Carl's on a roll. And if there's anything he's learned from the Saviors, it's that he should kick Negan while he's still down.

"You called me Patch. You made me that. And I was grateful for it. I would've done anything for you, if Dad hadn't come along. Hell, I did do everything for you."

"But don't pretend you're any different. You only cared about what I could be for you. And I was fine with that, because I did the same damn thing with you. For a day, when we ate spaghetti together, I'd feel like I was part of something again. Like I had a family. The next day, Frankie would go back to bein' a whore, and I'd go back to bein' your lil serial killer, and I was okay with that, I was. But now..."

"I used to think Dad was weak. You killed two of his people, and you had him in the palm of your hand. But look at him now, Negan. He doesn't have to have leverage on his people. They follow him because they want to. And if you had actually given a damn about me? You would have known my name, my real name, and you could have stopped this whole thing before it ever even happened. But you had to look it up."

By the time he finishes, he's left breathless and nearly panting, surprised at how tightly he's clenching the radio. Surprised that he's actually losing his cool against Negan. But his own words have started to make him feel self-righteous, like he's giving the other man the smack down he deserves. That in some fantasy world, the listening crowd would be nodding in agreement at how utterly right and cool Carl is, right now.

But that's a fantasy world.

Because Carl's words? They barely even affect the other man.

"You done?" Negan tuts, like he's dealing with an overzealous teenager, like Carl's just embarrassing himself. Carl's face burns. Is this what Ron felt like, during his speech against Rick in that graveyard? Or what Ben felt like, when he ran off on his own to the National Guard Center?

"See, that shit? That's disappointing, Patch. Because that whiny crap would have never flown at my place. That sort of thing is what happens after you spend too much time followin' Rick around like a goddamn puppy. And it's a shame, because you're capable of so much fucking more than this."

It's at this point that Carl's father finally loses his patience, snatching the radio from Carl with a snarl.

"You don't get to talk to him like that, anymore. Now do you have anything useful to say, or do you just feel like guilt-tripping my son while your people die?" Rick seethes, his throat gravely and his eyes watery.

In retrospect, Carl should have found a way to shut down the conversation right then and there. Because Negan is doing what he does best. He's needling at their weaknesses, spinning things around until Carl is questioning everything he's come to know in the last few months.

And if his father is even more riled up than he is…..

"You wanna talk business, Rick? Seems to me, your 'business' and your family are on the same side of the same coin. Sometimes you do what's best for your people, like putting your fucking son on the execution block. Sometimes you do what's best for your family, like leaving everyone's favorite redneck out here, high and dry. But you can't choose both, Rick. And trust me. With that boy of yours? I know him. I raised him when you couldn't, remember? Whatever he's workin' through, he's a damn serial killer at heart. And one day, your people are gonna be cryin' out for his blood, and what are you gonna do then, Rick?"

It's a good question.

It's one that his father refuses to acknowledge.

"You don't know him. You don't know a damn thing about him." Rick seethes. He's gearing up to say something else, to give the Sanctuary leader a dressing down of his own. But then Negan interrupts with one single, terrifying sentence.

"He ever tell you why he won't sleep in a bed?"

Carl's blood runs cold.

No.

Negan isn't going there.

He isn't.

He can't.

But he is. Of course he is. Why wouldn't he?

Carl should stop this. He should throw the radio across the room, stomp it into pieces. But he can't move a muscle. He's as powerless as he was minutes ago, and he hates it.

But just as Carl knows very much where this conversation is going, it's clear that Rick does not, having been stopped in his tracks. He blinks rapidly, as if the memories of Carl curled up in Buttons' stall, of the abandoned mattress back at the Kingdom are just now coming back to him. But he's still confused. Everyone is.

It's just a show. It's just a performance---

And it's one that Negan revels in. He snorts, practically preening as he speaks.

"Yeah. That's what I figured. Kid avoids mattresses like the plague. Kind of cute, really. Let me guess, he has a bunch of little blankets shoved up in a corner somewhere, booby traps the area so he'll wake up if people come too close?"

The words dawn on Carl's father, who furrows his brow.

"And he'll come up with all the excuses in the world for why. 'Just more comfortable that way, used to livin' on the road.' But that ain't it. You see, I know why, because I know him. I know how his mama always used to cut his hair, how he fidgets with those gloves of his when he's nervous, even though he's got the best damn poker face in the county. And when you can get him to eat? Hell, I even know how he likes his scrambled eggs."

"Whether you like it or not, Rick, we're like divorcees squabblin' over custody. And right now, you're the cool parent...but just how long do you think that's going to last? Because trust me, that kid? He's good at hidin' things. Hell, he had the wool pulled over my eyes, long enough. And if he was lyin' to me... he's sure as hell lyin' to you."

Negan didn't actually say it out loud.

He's going to make Rick ask the question.

And somehow, that just makes it so much worse.

"I'll just let you two sit on that, for a bit. I've got shit of my own to take care of. But Patch?"

There's a pause. Carl can't tell how long that pause is, because his brain feels like it's stuck, like the world is moving too fast and too slow all at once.

"For the record? I didn't stop those damn dinners because I got tired of them. I stopped them, because I didn't want anyone like Simon here to get any fucking ideas on how to become the next Godfather. I did it to protect you. Because I cared about you,and didn't want any of these other cocksuckers to realize that. I took a risk on you, kid. Guess I shouldn't have."

And with that, the radio goes silent.

Carl's previous words come back to bite him. Carl hasn't found out a damn thing about Daryl, and Negan has done what he does best.

There's tension in the air, and his father is swiveling to face him, wanting answers Carl isn't prepared to give. Wanting Carl to explain what the hell Negan just blindsided him with in the middle of a goddamn siege.

And somehow, even though Negan is the one trapped in a crumbling factory, cut off from supplies and surrounded by biters, Carl feels like he's the one that's lost.