Riley's heel bounced up and down against the metal floor of the firetruck in which she rode in. Inside it was so... light. The walls were white, the seats took on a pearl sheen against the sun seeping in through the windows, the Paris tote bag perched on the floor was a gentle cream. Everything so pale, so contradictory to the outside paint it wore as a coat. The fiery red that reflected on the glass of broken windows they passed was a sight for sore eyes against the bleak towns and cracked asphalt. 

The only red Riley could see directly in front of her, the only red not being draped across its sweetly colorless insides was the messy scab across the palm of her hand. She'd gotten the slice when the Claimers had broken into the house she, Rick, Carl, and Michonne were holed up in for a little bit after the prison fall, and so far it'd healed nicely- or as nicely as it could without proper bandages and ointments. However, even that she averted her eyes from. The sting of her itching, scabbed skin being picked at repetitively by her snagged fingernails sent little shocks throughout her body- even more so when the truck went over a bump and her nail dug a bit too hard. Regardless, the pain made that feeling in her stomach lessen somewhat, as her attention was drawn away from it. It was like the butterflies in her stomach had gone rabid, raging against the bars of their enclosure in suicidal fits of claustrophobia, creating cuts and bruises on her interior.

She picked even harder at the skin in her hand.

"Just a few minutes now." Abraham called out from upfront where he drove.

Every so often he would holler a few updates just to keep everyone on a similar page, perhaps to keep them from going insane from the anticipation of what was bound to lay itself upon them. Mostly for Maggie and Nessa. It was just around fifteen minutes ago when Rick's voice came over the walkie-talkie, telling them they got the head of Grady Memorial to agree to meet with them. Soon, he said, they would have Samson back, have Beth back. Abraham pushed his foot a little harder on the pedal then, nearly busting it and shouting out another one of his awfully strange one-liners along the area of, "Goddamn, this truck's gonna bite all our dicks' before drivin' us to shit."

"That's the most normal thing I think I've ever heard him say." Riley noted somewhat amusedly. 

"Yeah." Carl agreed, though his voice lacked any levity at all. He was solemn, still, sitting with grave intensity.

Riley's pointer finger and thumb harassed her opposite hand's ring finger. The boy's cold sedateness left her feeling uneasy, as if the reality of their situation's dark hazsardness was growing sharper with each passing moment. Riley knew he owed nothing to her, he didn't have to act chipper to relieve her of the stress, to tell her everything his father was doing at the moment to get Beth and Sam back from the hospital was going perfectly fine. If anything, Carl had more reason to be anxious than she did. After all, it was his father negotiating for their people back, his father associating with a dangerous group who could shoot him dead at any moment. To add onto that, Riley knew Carl cared a lot about Beth and Sam, maybe more Beth than the other boy, but still. She was aware of the small crush he'd had on the older girl toward the beginning of their time at the prison. He'd often pretend to "check on her", or he'd offer her some of the nuts or rations he had in his pockets. Even if that little crush was long gone- or at least Riley assumed it was, she hoped so- she knew he still cared about Beth. They all did, Riley more than most. She'd known the Greene for a few years now, ever since she and Sawyer started dating. 

Riley felt that it was a given that she'd be anxious to see her again, especially under their circumstances. What if something went wrong? Like someone getting hurt, someone not getting out in order for Beth to attain her freedom? Samson's too? Riley felt anything but trust and security when her mind wandered to Grady Memorial, and if she'd attempt to back away from the place, intrusive thoughts began to invade her head. If Riley focused enough on the memory of the day before, she could practically hear the hospital whispering in the corner of her ears, trailing its stiff, cold fingers down her spine. She'd slipped from these people's gruesome grasp one time, but what was the cost of that? Her imprisonment now? The feeling of losing and missing someone in absence, because her own absence is what she gave to them?

Stop it, a voice snapped in her brain, although she couldn't quite tell who it belonged to. Was it her own? Was it Meg's again, coming back to reprimand her from the deepest parts of her consciousness? Riley could almost hear her late stepmother's soft yet scolding tone again, so clean and clear it could've been spoken right into her ear, although the words were stolen from Riley's mind instead: think clinically, unemotionally. Breathe.

Riley inhaled a deep breath, closing her eyes as her wrist fanned up to her forehead. Clinically. Unemotionally. That was the only way to keep the panic out.

"I can do that." Riley whispered, but the lack of volume just made it sound like a trembling breath. Sometimes, she wondered if her biggest enemy was just herself, her own mind, her own fear. 

The tips of her fingers felt sticky all of the sudden, as if her quick drawback to reality heightened her senses, and she glanced down at her hands. Her fingers wore light patches of red, the skin sticking to itself before pulling apart slowly every time she touched her appendages together. In the midst of her rambled thinking of everything that could go wrong, her fingers took on a rampage of their own. Her mostly healed injury was now cut and bleeding, and Riley felt disgusting even looking at it.

The girl pulled her sleeves over her hands, trying to hide the eyesore from herself and those who may be watching, although most people were caught up in their own heads. 

The truck bumped along some more, and Riley leaned her head against the rattling window, drawing one of her legs up against her chest. As much as she was dreading the moment they pulled in front of the hospital, destined to see either the faces of those held closest in her heart or their ruins splattered in front of her, she wished the vehicle they rode in could go just a little faster. She could practically feel the indent her heart was leaving against her chest, its overworked pounding echoing in her head. 

"Hey," Carl said from beside her, drawing over her attention. His face was still void of emotion, except for maybe slivers of anxiety peeking through every here and there. Despite that, a wry smile was twinging slightly at his lips. "Whatever we see there, it'll be fine. My dad's got it."

Riley nodded, even though she still felt those rioting butterflies in her stomach. Now, they kind of felt like angry hornets. She was excited to see Beth again, Sam too. She was just nervous that these people wouldn't be so lenient on letting them go, especially after what she'd seen when in the presence of only two of them. Anything could go wrong, everything could go right. Nothing in this world was promising. 

"You trust him, right?" Carl inquired.

"Of course I do." Riley said quietly, and she was telling the truth. She trusted Rick with every fiber in her being, and trust was the most important thing to her. She only wished it had the power to erase the nerves that scaled her skin ominously.

"Do you trust me?" Carl asked. His tone was a little softer now, but it still had that persistent edge. Comforting, yet assertive. Just like his father.

Riley nodded again, her voice a whisper as she repeated her statement. "Of course I do."

"Good." He said. He looked a little relieved, although that assured tone still lingered in his voice. "Then believe me when I tell you it's all going to work out."

"I do." Riley answered, although she couldn't tell if she truly felt it or if she was saying it to please him. 

"Then why do you keep doing that?" Carl looked down at her bloodied fingers and sticky scab before looking back up at her.

Riley's eyebrow twitched in confusion before she caught on. Her face flared up in an instant, and she pulled her sleeves down again. She didn't say anything, because in her defense, what was there to say? She turned away from Carl a little bit, staring out of the windshield to see if she could locate any signs of a hospital looming in the distance, but the focus felt like a blind aim as Carl's eyes followed her, encouraging the redness that sprouted from her neck up.

"I'm just saying, don't let it get the best of you." Carl ventured on, noticing the discomfort growing on the girl and walking between them.

Riley's breath escaped through her nose, and she turned back to him. "This is going to sound a little ridiculous, but... if I say it, will you promise not to laugh?"

"I wouldn't laugh at you." Carl frowned. It wasn't a statement of comfort, but rather one of genuineness, and Riley's hands dropped into her lap, no longer held up with tensity.

"I just feel like everything we've been doing recently has been failing. I know we've had our fair share of hard times, like when the farm got overrun and everything with the Governor, but even then we were fine. Now, it's like everything has just been going wrong and every good thing has a price." Riley bit her lip after the short ramble ended, examining the boy's face for any type of reaction. 

Carl shrugged, his lips pursing just the slightest. "Well, if you think like that then it's all you'll see. I mean, yeah, it's been really rough. But we all found our way back to each other, most of us are still here, and we're about to get Beth and Sam back. Won't it be worth it to see the look on Maggie and Nessa's face when they see them again?"

Riley's eyes fell as she thought about what he said. In all honesty, there wasn't really any winning in the world they'd grown to live in, but beyond that, they did have it better than many others in a lot of different aspects. Really, Riley could- should- even consider herself lucky. 

"Yeah. You're right, it will."

"Besides," Carl continued. "You've been pretty fearless this whole time."

"I'm not fearless. I'm terrified, I'm always terrified." Riley whispered. Such a vulnerable thing to say, such a shameful thing to admit, but it was true. Every second of every moment she was awake, Riley felt like there was a looming shadow above her, watching her every move and shielding her sight from every danger slowly approaching her. Walkers were around every corner and hiding in every crack, yet somehow, that was often the least of her worries. How could she not be scared for her life when her own kind- the people still left breathing- were watching to strip her of any youth, any innocence, and modesty she had left?

Carl's eyes dropped, the blunt solidity in his face melting for a moment before he met her eyes again. "So am I, all the time. But we're still here, right?"

"Yeah." Riley admitted. "We are."

"And it'll stay that way. We just have to keep going." Carl affirmed, although the lack of eye contact made Riley wonder if the words were meant more for himself rather than for her.

The girl nodded, cracking her knuckles together. Carl's words had soothed her in a strange sort of way. She was still incredibly on edge, panicky feelings still walking all over her at the idea of showing up at Grady Memorial. Beth and Sam would be there, so would Rick in the others. Would they all be fine? Would Maggie and Michonne and the others have to pull out weapons in a brawl? Or would their people have slaughtered all of the hospital's by the time they got there? How long ago did Abraham say that they were close? Riley's patience was running thin- either that or her sanity.

Regardless of that, Carl's sort of pep talk found its way deeper, to a different layer of perturbation and exhaustion. It was almost like a shot she'd used to get at the doctor's: the needle cut far deeper into her flesh where it healed all the virus's she'd carried while simply brushing over the rash aflame on the outermost layer of her skin. She was still alive, she still had most of the people she loved beside her. Meg was gone, Hershel was gone, Lucas was gone, but despite how much that tore her apart, looking back at it instead of pushing through survival was only going to bring her down farther. She had to remember that. 

"We're here." Rosita called out from the front of the truck. The sound of guns being hefted into arms and knives being unsheathed rang around the uncolored, fruitless interior of the firetruck.

Riley shot a glance at Carl, half hopeful that the panic of whatever was about to lay itself down on them wasn't too obvious, half hopeful that it was so obvious he would be able to assure her everything was going to be absolutely fine. But he didn't have the power to do that. Knowledge was power, and at the moment, they had none of it.

"Hey, come here." A few fingers landed on her shoulder as she stood, gripping onto her with a firm protectiveness. Immediately, Riley felt herself flinch, almost like an instinct. Her body curled inwards with a sort of fearful distaste before she saw that it was only Sawyer, who adjusted a rifle in his arms as he walked a few paces in front of his younger sister. "You stay behind me."

Riley's mouth opened to argue, that familiar instinct of insisting she could defend herself nearly running up on her tongue when she realized this circumstance was far different than those she was used to facing. The only thing that could come close was Terminus, or maybe even when the Claimers sprung upon that house where she and Rick were cooped up, but even then it was matter of quick acting for their lives, nothing close to negotiation with dangerous people. Perhaps, Riley could compare it to the Governor's attack and the fall of the prison,  but immediately Riley was reminded of Meg, who she'd failed to save in the end.

Riley closed her mouth and nodded.

Riley cast a quick glance around her, trying to spot the one weapon she had that she was confident in. She held onto the idea- or perhaps hope was the better word- that the bow and arrow would be kept in her grasp for the feeling of comfort and security, and that she wouldn't be forced into the position of using it. Not against anyone living, at least. One of the last times she'd used the bow and arrow was during their escape of Terminus, and that was a fierce moment of survival, of kill or be killed. Even then, Riley's biggest threat were the walkers, as everyone else was either running for their lives or fighting off the walkers themselves. Or being eaten by them. Excluding that scene, however, Riley'd only used her bow and arrow against the cannibalistic monsters since. The thought of people being the target she'd use it against sent her body rigid, as if being dipped in ice-cold water full of reminders of things she fought to forget in a battle she still hasn't won.

Riley did a quick half-spin, laying her eyes on her select weapon. She shuffled past Carl and headed toward the back end of the vehicle toward where it was, her disappearance going unnoticed by Sawyer as he hopped out of the truck and offered Michonne his hand. 

A few paces in front of her, Nessa fingered a dagger with a fidgety free hand while bouncing Judith on her hip, other arm secured around the infant's torso. The girl held a complex expression on her face, like a sailboat that was tossing gently in the thickening waves as it headed for a black storm. She turned to glance at her surroundings before removing her free hand from the knife it toyed with and tapping the person next to her, Boston, the man who'd helped Riley escape from the battleground of the Governor's men at the prison.

"Take her, will you? If you don't mind. I just want to be able to get up front, my brother's there and..." Nessa trailed off, glancing outside of the thick windows of the firetruck. The sailboat was growing unstable in the tempestuous waves.

"Oh, uhm, yeah. I got her." Boston reached his arms out for Judith, awkwardly pulling her in against his chest.

Nessa bid him a quick thank you before grabbing the dagger by its handle and make a beeline for the opening of the truck, barely acknowledging Riley as she passed. 

The Endicott paid little mind, instead moving toward the bow when Boston beat her to it and picked it up by its grip, examining it before turning to her.

"Mind if I take the bow?" He asked as Judith reached out a hand and clasped at his shirt collar.

Riley paused for a second, a little stunned. She didn't want to be rude, but she had no other word in her mouth apart from "no", so she didn't say anything. Apparently, her daze was evident on her face, as Boston laughed.

"I'm just kidding." He handed the bow over to Riley, who cracked a small smile. He bent down a little to pick up the quiver of arrows for her. "You're pretty facile with that thing. Impressive."

Riley's lip were pulled into a tiny grin as she slung the quiver over her shoulder. "Thanks. I picked it up when I was younger, was actually stately ranked as a kid. I never really carried it on though. I don't know, I didn't see much of a point to it."

Boston raised an eyebrow, drawing out a curt laugh from the girl, smiling along with her.

"Now I do. Definitely do." Riley admitted, running a nail along the lower limb. 

"Stately ranked, you said?" The young man whistled, shifting his weight as if unsure of how his stance would keep the baby in his arms comfortable. "Was it your idea to start?"

"My dad's." Riley nodded, exhaling a shallow breath at the mention. She didn't think much about him as of late, her focus being mainly on survival or holding onto the people she still had left- speaking of so, she turned her head toward the windshield, watching as most of the people from their group begin to mingle around the front of the truck waiting to advance on the hospital to reclaim Beth and Samson. Only Rosita and Eugene were still inside with them.

Riley turned her head back toward Boston, who had a semi-strange sort of look on his face. It wasn't exactly judging, per se, but rather an expression of contemplation and curiosity.

"Don't worry, he wasn't a lunatic gun nut." Riley clarified, trying to slip in a slight joke after missing his own regarding her bow earlier. She used to pick up on humorous affairs easily, they usually came out of her own mouth more often than not. When had that changed? When had her personality dimmed to a light so low that things as lighthearted as jokes flew past her, leaving only an air of distaste and mistrust in their wake?

"He was pretty set on having me take up something different. He was actually an officer, with Rick. I guess he just wanted me to be a little like him somehow." Riley explained. She glanced outside again, about to suggest they should head out about now, apologize for keeping him with her rambling. Perhaps she'd missed socialization and conversation with new people and new topics that weren't death so much that she'd gotten herself carried away.

Boston, though, showed no mind of caring about the running time. "An officer? Wow. What was Sawyer then, the Karate Kid?"

"He leaned more toward Ninja Turtles."

Boston chuckled, nodding his head toward the front of the truck. Riley readjusted her bow in her arms, taking the movement as their cue to leave and join the others. The two walked toward the front end of the vehicle, Judith cooped up in the man's arms. 

"Boston, Abraham wants you out back with him to check the engine. It'll just take a minute." Rosita said, standing up to her full height from her previous position of placing a cloth on an unconscious Eugene's forehead.

"Oh, but Michelle asked me to stay out front with you guys. Just in case." Boston replied in an uneasy state of indecision.

Riley's head cocked to the side at the unfamiliar name before coming to the realization that he had meant Michonne. She decided against correcting him, though, considering "time and place" a more significant matter. Right now, her place was outside with the group. Time? About two minutes ago.

"It'll be quick. He said he doesn't think anyone else actually knows how to check if an engine part is about to bust- or if it already has." Rosita said, glancing toward the back.

"Right, got it." Boston let out an awkward laugh with a quick look at Judith. "You don't think Rick would mind if I took her around back with me? I'll be careful with her."

"Not sure. Probably not." Rosita briefly as she pulled her gun from its holster.

"He'll be fine with it. Just keep her safe." Riley interjected. She paused for a quick second with a teasing smile at the small landing from which she was about to jump out of the vehicle from. "Maybe be little quick with it, though."

"Noted." Boston quipped, circling to the back.

Riley's boots thudded as they hit the ground, sending a dust storm to all the ants frying in the blaring sun. She walked around to the front of the outside of the firetruck, which stood out of its surroundings like a red rose in a field of pink lilies. Rosita's footsteps sounded behind her, and within seconds the pair merged in with the rest of the group. 

Riley's downcast of a mood had been brightened- just the smallest bit, but still, nonetheless- from her small interaction with Boston. The exchange of simple knowledge and normal conversation eased the most reckless and inconsiderate nerves from her stomach, momentarily removing her mind from the looming hospital of Grady Memorial standing in front of her, barbed wires like spears aiming their shadows down on her face to remind her she'd escaped them once, and once was generous enough. 

The girl averted her gaze, discomfort beginning to swell inside of her. Her fingers nearly trailed back to the gash on her palm, but in quick exchange, she thought back to her conversation with Boston just earlier, and her timidness fluttered to a slower pace again. Yes, the topic of Ninja Turtles and '80s movies was much more appealing to her.

"Hey, listen you." Riley heard Michonne's voice not far off from her side. She glanced up at the woman, who nodded her over.

Riley obliged to the command, walking past a few people wearing masks of nerves and dread and hope alike. Guns were strapped into the arms of the group, a few of them nearing their advance on the hospital with eagerness dripping from their faces. Maggie and Nessa mostly, but Michonne called the younger of the two over to the small group she'd gathered round, consisting of only three other people: Carl, Billy, and Riley. 

"I want you four to stay here, by the truck." The woman commanded. Her sword still had a thin stream of dried blood running a daunting vein along its blade. "Don't move unless you need to. Understand?"

"What? No, I can't do that." Nessa protested with a sweaty hand clutched around the grip of a dagger. "Sam is in there, I have to be there for him when he comes out."

Michonne's chest compressed in a half sight. "Nessa-"

"I won't stay! You can't make me." The girl objected.

"I'm not making you, I'm asking you. For your own safety. We still don't know these people, which is why I want you all back here in case this goes south." Michonne said. Her tone was stern, her face too, but her eyes reflected the glimmer of plead that resided in Nessa's. Michonne looked at all of them. "I know that you can handle yourselves, it's just safer this way. Besides, if we need any backup, we have it over here."

Silence fell upon the group like an eerie blanket. Michonne surveyed the small group once again, and this time no complaints rang out. Riley scratched her fingernail along the wood of her bow, glancing over at Sawyer, who strayed earnestly toward the front of the proceeding group. She wasn't exactly keen on staying behind, especially since it meant having her brother on the frontlines of what could either be a reunion or a bloodbath. Still, she couldn't deny that her own safety could be at risk, and Michonne's judgement was one to trust.

"Okay." Carl said. 

Riley spared him a quick glance before looking back toward Michonne with a half nod, who gave a solemn one of acknowledgment in return. 

"Fine." Nessa's voice was a near whisper, but she backed down and away, moving over to a fence a little farther up where she perched stiffly.

Michonne turned and joined with the adults while Carl moved back toward the firetruck again, leaving Riley and Billy alone in front of the vehicle. Suddenly, the air seemed colder, or maybe, it was simply the hairs on every part of Riley's body standing curtly up, leaving her skin frail and exposed. She clutched her bow tightly in her hands before removing one and wiping it on her pant leg. She gripped the bow again.

"You okay?" Billy asked quietly. 

His voice caused Riley to look over at him, although it wasn't his question that really poked at her attention, but rather the tone his voice took on as he spoke the two words. How strange it sounded to hear him so... melancholy. So dejected. 

She nodded, swallowing a dry mouth before parting her lips. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm..." Riley's words ran from her mouth mid sentence. She wasn't okay, she didn't feel like it anyway. Despite her perspective being shifted into one of gratitude moments earlier, that hollow ache still remained in her chest. The loss of three people she thought she should've had more time with. The attempts at trying to wash away the fingerprints of that man from her body when she could still hardly bear the feeling of someone else's flesh upon hers. The scrapes on her skin and the bruises on her knees, the scabbing on her head from being knocked out cold in the woods next to the church. Every memory, every flashing feeling, every reminder of anything. All of that chipped away at the feeling of "okay". But of course, she couldn't say that. Especially not now.

"I just think too much has happened." Riley faltered. "But, you know..."

"Oh, yeah. Life goes on, right?" Billy offered a weak smile, but it fell heavily.

Riley hummed in response, threading a few fingers through the tangled strands of her hair, pushing them behind her ear. "Hey, you know, I wanted to say something. About Lucas and... I wanted to talk with you. It's just been so..."

"I get it." Billy said with a nod. "I get it. It's fine. I wanted to talk to you too."

"Yeah. It's just been too complicated to deal with and to talk and to sort everything out." Riley explained, but all it felt like was an run-on excuse. "But I'm still here, you know that? If you feel like you don't have anyone. I am."

That same, weak smile came across Billy's face again. Was it a little more genuine this time? Riley couldn't tell. "I know. You always are. Same goes both ways, right?"

"Yeah, yeah." Riley said.

It felt good, comforting, to have that conversation, no matter how bleak and short it was. Another affirmed and mutual pact of support to brace the girl's desolate mood. She watched as Billy stalked away from her side, moving over toward a patch of sunlight as he watched the advancing group of their own approach the hospital doors.

Riley's eyes locked on them, feeling her mouth slacken as she inhaled a breath. It was sure taking them quite some time to reach that entrance. And what then, once they did get to it? They  would probably just wait for Rick and the others to come out. Riley felt uneasy at the unconfirmed amount of time that would take. They would need the walkie-talkies to communicate with those inside, but somebody remembered to bring one outside of the truck, she assumed. Riley caught her lip in between her teeth, tugging at the skin that was peeling there from the lack of water. 

She tried to remember what Carl had said. She thought of how uplifting it would feel to hear Maggie's voice cry out in delight at the sight of her sister again, to see her older brother finally get to embrace his girlfriend after their time of barren separation. Even Nessa, the way she and Samson could reunite the same way they had after the group had escaped Terminus.

Think happy thoughts, Riley kept saying in her head. Maybe those cheerful moments could relieve some of the tension in her stomach. Her feet shuffled forward a few steps before back again, repeating the small movement over and over, and with each step her heart rate increased tenfold. 

Upfront, Glenn drove a knife through the skull of a walker, Michonne sliced another through the torso, leaving its body on the floor in two. Soon, the yard was cleared of any roaming walkers, the only remaining of them being left on the pavement. In their place, the group got ever closer to the hospital with raised guns and glimmering blades.

"Come on." Riley murmured, licking her lips to soothe the the raw skin revealed from the tearing by her teeth. Where was Beth's blonde hair? Where was that familiar giggle? Didn't she see the truck? Didn't she know they were finally here? "Come on."

It was when Riley thought her chest might explode from the ticking bomb of anticipation when she saw the doors open. For a moment, Riley felt her heart stop beating. Her bow became suddenly heavy, and she dropped her arms, straining her neck with a hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun.

Maggie's gun was lowered up ahead, Glenn's was too. The tip of Michonne's katana touched the ground. The whole group came to a stop. Perhaps it was a good thing Riley stayed back, her own feelings of prolepsis were already so intense, to share them in a group might've been too overwhelming for a situation with stakes so high.

Rick's body, although small from the distance, came into view. Riley furrowed her eyebrows, trying to see his face. His face lacked a smile, instead replaced by something else, something she couldn't quite read. The girl's hand lowered from her eyes a little, brushing against her nose. 

At least he was okay. 

She glanced behind him, walking a few paces over to her right, trying to catch a glimpse at everyone else. Sasha came out too, seemingly unscathed, followed by Noah. Everyone seemed fine, in terms of physicality at least. The only things missing were the joyous looks on their faces, but then again, it must've been stressful, scary, all things that came like a package deal with the good as of late. 

Here it comes, Riley thought. 

A few more people were coming forth from the darkness of the hospital's interior. Her intestines began to swim in her stomach like snakes. She felt her teeth grate against each other as she watched them emerge into the light. However, her view was blocked by Rick, Sasha, and Noah, even more so by Maggie and Sawyer. Her impatience began to tickle her limbs, moving her forward just a few steps before a scream so loud and guttural pierced the air in front of her.

Nessa was on her knees, one hand raggedly clawing at the fence she was just previously clung to and the other drawing lines with her nails along her face. That manic scream came from her again, and wrecked sobs of such hysteria began shaking her crumpled body.

Riley stepped back, her instincts beginning to flash bright, red warning signs in her gut. She turned her head around to glance at Carl, who was watching Nessa with a look of more than just concern across his face. He met Riley's stare of question, but no answer was written in his eyes. Riley didn't need one, though. She looked back again, through the gaps of people's head and instead in the arms of Tyreese, where Samson's body lay stiff and cradling a pool of drying blood.

Riley's hand shot up to her mouth, but it didn't mask the horror raining along her face. A feeling, one so truly unexplainable, shot in waves from her brain throughout her whole body. It wasn't the imminent slash of agony and panic she was used to feeling upon loss. Not the dreadful helplessness she was used to bearing. This time, it was different. It was guilt, but guilt on a level so tall Riley felt like she was losing oxygen the higher she ascended trying to come on top of it.

A hot tear rimmed her waterline, and for a moment the pain of loss and guilt seemed overpowering, but then she felt it. She really felt it. The feeling of ultimate breakage in every bone of her body. Riley felt her soul splinter, fissures breaking and bleeding along it, because right behind Tyreese with Sam's body, Daryl walked out into the open space, and in his arms was Beth. And Beth was dead.

Riley's bow dropped from her hand and her body went completely numb. Her ears began to ring, and suddenly, every bit of air was punched out of her lungs. Her body nearly doubled over, knees beginning to shake and buckle as her vision blurred. Riley watched as Daryl walked over to the group, his own face red and anguished, but it all seemed like a painting to her. She couldn't hear Maggie screaming, even as she collapsed to the ground. She couldn't hear Nessa crying anymore, either. All Riley could hear was the ringing in her ears and the sound of her throat opening and closing as she tried with hands made of gas to collect the air back into her chest, tried to breathe for the sake of staying alive a second longer.

But she wasn't sure if she wanted to now. Wasn't sure if she even could.

"No," Riley whispered, but her voice was so ragged the word was inaudible. "No, no."

Riley felt like a knife was driven into her stomach, gutting her all the way up to her throat. She hadn't even realized she was falling to the floor until her knees came into harsh contact with the gritty pavement. Her hands were shaking as they wavered in front of her face, trying to block her vision from the sight of Beth's body, but she could still see her laying limp in Daryl's arms.

The grieving despair came harshly, rapidly, so furiously fast and powerful that Riley couldn't catch her breath, as if the wind had been knocked right out of her. She felt as if little paper cuts were beginning to rip into her conscious. They bled into the memories in her brain, and suddenly Riley was hit with the memory of sitting with Beth, drawing a landscape out of oil pastels at the dining table at the farm. She remembered requesting that the blonde sing her "Uncle John's Band" every night on the road before she slept. She remembered wearing her longest pants when they'd stroll through the prison fields with Judith. She remembered promising her that she'd be the best flower girl to ever live when Sawyer finally put a ring on her finger. Now, all she'd remember was the way Beth's head slumped against Daryl's chest and the way her fingers had turned a shade of gray Riley didn't know was possible for a girl that once wore such fair skin.

Soon, the wrecked sobs didn't belong to just Nessa. Riley's voice became raw, her face stinging as her tears fought a war with the unhealed cuts in her skin. She'd become used to crying, she convinced herself that it was inevitable at this point. But never, not since Meg was torn apart right in front of her, had Riley felt despondency so vigorous that she felt like a fragile porcelain doll that was shattered on the floor. 

Sobs had climbed their way out of Riley's throat, attacking her in such a violent matter that soon her gasps and cries had molded into hyperventilation. Her arm reached out in front of her, but she was too far away for her fingers to brush anything other than air.

"No!" She'd cried out again, but the word hung lonely in the air. There was no fixing anything, no bringing anyone back. Her pleas of distraught repulsed death itself, leaving it to heave its heavy foot onto her quivering body until her forehead met the ground. "No, no."

Riley had barely felt when a pair of sweaty hands caught onto her shoulders, sliding in a fit of spasming panic and sorrow along her arms. Riley brought her head up again, but the tears still blurred her vision, her wailing scratching her vocal cords into broken pieces. How still, in a fit of such distress, could she see Beth's body so casually? Since when did Beth look younger than her? All she could see in the corpse was a little girl, a little girl with boots too big and unbrushed hair strung up into a ponytail. 

Beth hadn't even reached nineteen.

Riley's eyes shut as her mouth rained a shower of unfiltered sobs. Carl's arms clutched her in tighter against his body. His hat had cast a shadow across the ground, but nothing was darker than the void beginning to consume every good thing Riley thought she'd known before. Nothing felt as weighted as the feeling of tugging a dead body along wherever you went, because only God knew how weak Riley's legs would grow as she carried Beth around with her, however much longer she was made to live after this.

"It's okay, it's okay." Carl's voice uttered in her ear, but even Riley, in her state of utmost distress, could hear the tears in his words. Four simple words, one easy lie repeated two times over. 

"No, no." Riley weeped, her body losing any strength she'd once possessed to hold herself up. She was sunken against Carl, her temple pressed against his cheek as he whispered small comforts than only she could hear, but the sound of her own sobbing blocked them out.

"Please," She begged, her mouth opening so wide in attempts to catch a real breath in her fit of hyperventilation that the corner of her lip split. "Beth!"

No answer. No call back. No "wait just a minute!". Just silence, silence from the dead girl hanging peacefully. She looked the same way she did when Riley caught a glance at her face while she slept. How was that possible? How was it even fair? To make somebody with a burnt up soul of ash in a lifeless body appear the same way they had when they were just asleep, it was evil. But there was nobody to blame.

Carl had given up on his murmurs of comfort, instead, his chin rested against Riley's shoulder, eyes shutting to block out the image that the girl in his arms couldn't remove from her sights. The few tears of his he'd allowed to fall out dropped onto Riley's skin, his trembling hands hooked onto her arms.

Riley's wails were beat of energy, leaving her in a condition of heavy breathing that was slaughtered by the one following up, leaving her with less air in her body than she should have. Even then, though, the pain of nearly suffocating on the floor of broken pavement and weeds was nothing, not even a sliver close to the pain of seeing Daryl place Beth's tiny, youthful body onto the floor in front of Maggie.

The girl's head dropped again, but this time, she had no intention of picking it back up, not until someone had grabbed her and dragged her off of the ground. Carl shifted behind her, hands running up and down her back. While his gaze surveyed the demise in front of him, Riley's viewed nothing but the back of her eyelids, where flashes of Beth's once smiling face were replaced by her grayed, portrait perfect one with streaks of blood on her skin.

This was always a possibility. Riley knew it walking into the scene, however, she hadn't realized just what it would feel like. Sadness didn't even begin to cover it, anger was a laughable mention. Suffering and sorrow were pathetic. No words came to her mind, and no thoughts came to soothe her heart. Who knew just how hard it would be to try and carry on one's life as they held the hand of a dead girl.

"We look not at what can be seen, but we look at what cannot be seen."

The dirt stained metal sunk into the dirt again. The fourteenth shovel of dirt was thrown across the second corpse. Samson was no longer to be seen by the rays of daylight that bubbled blisters onto the skin, as now the brown of his hair had melted into the brown of the soil. All that remained now was a broken watch and a mix-match pair of striped socks, both which lay in the possession of his twin sister. Nessa had tied the two socks into the belt loops of her jeans, although she struggled to put the watch onto her wrist by herself, so instead it hung in the gentle grasp of her fingers.

"But what cannot be seen is eternal."

Riley sat with her ankles crossed and her knees pulled up to her chest. In front of her, the hole was already good and covered. The dirt was packed, the cross was placed, the flowers were dropped, the body was hidden. Maggie had begged they find a place to bury her sister, her and Sam both. She couldn't bear to leave the bodies around to rot like the dead that walked beside them. So now, Beth was in the ground while Sam's face was to be seen for the last time. 

Gabriel continued on with his eulogy, but only a few people really processed his words. Glenn and Abraham were finishing the job of packing dirt onto the second and final grave, while a few people consisting of Rick, Carol, Eugene, Billy, and some lonesome others stood to soak in the priest's words. 

Riley's thoughts were droned out, completely numb. Her nose had become fiercely red from the roughness of her sleeve against it, but the color was nearly nothing compared to the scarlets of her eyes. A thick, running stain cut through the grime on her face underneath each of her waterlines, and all she had been doing ever since Beth's body had been lowered into the ground was sitting. Sitting on the heated grass as Glenn threw the dirt over her pale, little body over and over. At first the sight had made Riley's stomach tense, and she kept resisting the urge reach out and rip the shovel from Glenn's hands. The sight of Beth's shirt being wrinkled by the dirt and her face being skimmed by the rocks made the shards of her heart crack even more, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. She felt like she owed it to the girl, the girl in the ground. She felt as if she owed it to her to at least walk her to death's gate before she officially moved onwards alone. Besides, Riley had rather watch the quiet burial than stare at the sight of Samson's stiff, cold body leaning against a tree while his own grave was dug.

Riley dropped her gaze into her hands, where she toyed with a paper folded into fourths. The black lines on it were faded, and the once white as snow paper had turned a soiled yellow from the time it spent in the wilderness. 

Sawyer had brought it to her. He didn't say much, he didn't even look into her eyes. In his hands he held a little green diary, the one Beth had kept for the longest time. Riley didn't even try to remember the first time she'd seen the Greene with it, fearing that any sense of recollection of Beth in the past would send her down a whirlwind that she wouldn't be able to climb herself out of.

"This was, uh," Sawyer's clipped and gravelly voice caught before he cleared it. He pulled the folded, yellow paper out from between a few pages of the diary. "This was addressed to you."

Riley looked down at the paper in a fit of hesitated confusion. "From Beth?"

Sawyer's face had hardened. His jaw clenched as he swallowed before opening his mouth, but instead of a worded response, all that came out was a sigh. He handed Riley the paper before taking a few steps back and wandering off on his own.

Riley still wasn't sure what contents remained on the faded page, as she had yet to open it. However, she did read the name signed by the person who wrote it.

Meg.

Upon reading that name, again Riley had felt shunned, drowned by the criminal claw of guilt. What an evil trick to play on such a faltering person. Riley's eyes hadn't filled with tears that time. Instead, she'd shoved it in her pocket and walked over to the body from which the diary containing the paper had come from. It was from there that she'd unclasped the blue beaded bracelet from Beth's wrist and clipped it around her ankle, from there that she'd seen Maggie  gently drag the silver heart necklace from her sister's neck as she combed her fingers through the nest of blonde hair. The same hair that was missing an uneven chunk as it was messily sliced by a knife, and now kept in a perfect ringlet in Sawyer's pocket.

Riley hadn't judged when she saw it happen, the way her brother ran the blade through the pale hair multiple times over in order not to shake Beth's resting head. He took a quick break multiple times in the few seconds it took, wiping his nose and his cheeks as sorrowful liquid washed some of the blood from the girl's face. 

It wasn't even just the three of them, Riley, Sawyer, and Maggie, who kept little memorials of Beth. When she'd approached the body herself, Riley noticed that Beth's shoelaces were strung free from her shoes. She'd had a solid idea of who took them, too.

Now, she sat with her chin on her knee, her fingers running along the paper's folded rim. Maggie was on her knees by the filled grave, hands pressed atop the dirt. Her body was shaking, head hung between her shoulders as her raw, unmuted sobs fused into the air. Glenn staked his shovel into the ground, bending down to a single knee as he placed his hand on his wife's back, but he knew no words or touch would provide any comfort. Not at this point. Perhaps the idea of simply not knowing was better for Maggie, Riley wondered if it would have been better for herself at times as well. The hope was the sweetest part, the nerves of knowing Beth was right at their fingertips even though she was living in danger were overshadowed because of that hope. Now, there was none of that. No mystery, no fear, no prayers. Just the acceptance. But that was the hardest part.

Riley looked around her, not to find comfort in other people, but just to know where they were. That was something she'd been short of knowledge about in the recent weeks. Now, she admitted to herself in finding the greatest stability there.

Daryl was gone, off somewhere alone presumably. Riley was sure Carol would've gone after him if she wasn't so weak herself, in every sense of the word. Nessa was gone too, no longer by Samson's grave. Maybe the pain was too fresh, maybe being in the mere proximity of his body- visible or not- was an unbearable thought. And missing from her usual spot next to Abraham, Rosita, Boston, and Eugene, was that girl, Char. So many people, so many possible losses. Riley dropped her head so that her eyebrows brushed against her kneecaps.

"Guess she really was too good for this place." 

Riley picked her head back up, looking over to her left. Noah's face was tear stricken and his demeanor was weakly dull. She'd been aware of his presence there, just a few feet over as he rounded the edge of Beth's grave. He'd been silent of words the whole time though, instead trembling with shaken sobs as he cried softly into the dirt.

"This world." He finished softly.

Riley inhaled a shallow breath through her stuffed nose, letting it roll off of her tongue. She didn't have much to say in response to that. Of course Beth was too good for that place, that place of evil. This world of evil. But that didn't mean she had to die for it. It was unfair, all of it. But she knew that wasn't what Noah meant.

"I keep thinking to myself... she went out her own way, at least. She knew what she was doing, she knew what she was risking, but she did it anyway. At least that last choice was her own." Noah's voice was frail, but his sentences stuck onto Riley like paste.

The girl nodded, biting at the corner of her lip. "I didn't know the bullet went right through her head."

"Yeah." Noah whispered, eyes trained on the grave in front of him. "It was quick. I bet she didn't feel a thing."

Riley's forehead creased as her eyebrows moved harmoniously with the ultimate feeling of defeat that threatened to pour from her eyes and her mouth once again. She took a deep breath, wiping her nose and further irritating her skin. "Yeah."

"She, um... she was happy to see you again. All of you." Noah said, moving his sights to Riley's face. "I wish she could've, but things just got out of hand, it ended up getting complicated. The way Dawn always made things. It wasn't just a simple exchange anymore."

"Nothing feels simple." Riley sniffled again. Nothing had felt simple since the beginning, since they found out where Beth was and what they had to do to get her back. Not that it was worth thinking about anyway, because they couldn't. They didn't.

"I get that." Noah nodded.

For a moment, all they heard was Maggie's soft cries from the other end of the grave. Riley had run out of her own physical, wet tears, but her body still shook from the sobs she felt in her chest. She glanced down at the paper between her fingers, flipping it over to the other side where Meg's name was signed. It might've been vile, or perhaps it was simply the intensity of the moment that made Riley wish she'd had a second letter with Beth's name printed too. How ungrateful it was, she knew it. But she couldn't stand to think about how her interweaving timeline that she'd shared with Beth was just cut short, like a string snipped by scissors that swum out of the random. She placed the paper into her pocket, turning to look back at Noah.

"Do you feel guilty?" She asked quietly. She didn't mean it in an accusatory tone, but rather more out of curiosity. For the hope that she wasn't alone in her state of more than just grief.

Noah let out a scoff. "Insanely. More than anything."

Riley nodded. A part of her felt a little relieved, no matter how selfish it sounded. To know that somebody else felt that stabbing, lingering pain of accountability that cut deeper than knowing they weren't just "not fast enough" or "not smart enough" made a hard spot inside of her soften just the slightest. Beth had sacrificed herself to Grady Memorial for Noah, and she died. Samson had sacrificed himself to Grady Memorial for Riley, and he died too. God, she hated that place more than anything. She couldn't even find it in her heart to feel horrified when she felt a sort of satisfaction light inside her when she'd heard that Daryl shot Dawn dead. They'd taken too much from her, too much, too soon, too ruthlessly. She silently hoped, deep down in the pits of the darkest layer of her heart, that it burned into ash the way she felt she had when Beth's body was carried out. 

Apart from the awfully sick hospital, however, apart from the treachery it unleashed upon their group, Riley felt grateful that she had someone there to relate with her, even if it was in the most evil of ways possible. Maybe she wasn't quite as alone as she thought.

"I do, too." She replied back to the boy.

"Sam?" Noah inquired. 

Riley looked back at him, she didn't nod her head, she didn't shake it either. Her lips hadn't parted to answer, but he got the message still. He didn't push on, doubtlessly seeing in her eyes and written along her face just how sensitive the topic was. How tender it was to even near conversation. Maybe someday.

"You know, I didn't spend much time with Beth, but she was still a really great person. She gave me hope for the first time in months." Noah's volume dropped as to not let Maggie overhear. Who knew how hearing about the impact her deceased little sister would have affected her?

Riley hummed, her mouth twisting out of mixed emotions, confused on whether to smile or break down again. "She was good like that. Always giving people hope."

"I could tell you about her, if you want. All the time I got to spend with her, even if it was just a little."

Riley's gaze cast downward again, and for a minute her voice felt like it was caught in an iron grip. "That'd- yeah, I'd like that. Just maybe not yet. I think it's, uhm, I think it's just a little-"

"Too soon?" Noah finished for her. 

"Yeah. It's been a lot." Riley sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. "But when the time is right, then of course. I'd love to hear all about it."

"Yeah, yeah, absolutely. As many memories as you wanna hear." Noah said, offering up a small smile.

"Okay, like, twenty." 

"Twenty stories about Beth?" Noah's eyebrow peaked up, but his tone held that familiar jesting tone, just the smallest bit. Riley caught notice of her own self recognizing it straight away, a contrast to the way she'd missed it with Boston just a few hours ago.

Riley's lips spread in the faintest, momentary smile. "Or a hundred. I don't care."

Noah nodded, face finally dry of all the tears that previously left it wet. Beside him, Riley looked around, hoping maybe to let someone else in particular hear about the conversation, but he appeared to be missing from the group. Riley frowned, brushing her hands off on her knees and standing up.

"I'm just going to go look for my brother. I don't know where he..." Riley spun around, wondering if maybe she'd missed a spot, seeing if she'd catch a glimpse of him somewhere around the array of people, but with no luck.

"Yeah. Go ahead." Noah intoned, watching the girl stand.

Riley gave him a last, forced half-smile before departing from his presence and the sight of Beth'a grave.

She tried to ignore the faces all around her, streaked with blood and coated with filth. It was then, with the action of purposely avoiding every withering glance, did she realize just how vividly the cuts and soot were etched into their face. Unnatural, it was, but yet somehow, normal. 

The trees grew a little thicker, and with only a minute's worth of walking did Riley find herself at the very edge of the group. The closest person, Tara, was only a few yards away, but Riley made sure no contact went between them, instead slipping between the trunks of trees until she was dissolved in the woods. 

"Sawyer?" She called out, but his name sounded less of a shout and more of a word being shredded through a cheese grater. It was the first time her voice had raised at all that day since she'd seen Beth be brought from the hospital, and she hadn't quite realized how much it had butchered her vocal cords. Either way, her brain couldn't quite articulate anything other than her brother's name to yell out in the forest. Her mumbles with Noah felt more natural: barely raising her voice, touching around the tender topic of previous events. Calling out for the individual she looked for seemed to call her out on the way she pretended to have any energy left inside of her, instead leaving her raw, left with only defeat and exhaustion. 

No reply came back, and Riley tried one more time. "Sawyer? Hey, where'd you run off to?"

All she was met with once again was the coarse woods echoing her voice back at her. Riley's shoulders dropped from their state of tensity she wasn't even aware they were held in. She knew her brother needed space, that the wound he suffered from was in no doubt larger and more agonizing than her own, but the part of her that yearned for Beth yearned for him in a stronger suit now that she was gone. Riley felt like a living nerve exposed to the chilled air that was the wicked world, the only clarity would be Sawyer's own shivering arms tucking her in close to offer a momentary repose. But she knew that she couldn't force the pained to soothe her own, no matter how much her heart ached for it. Who was the "Sawyer" for the boy himself? Beth, unquestionably, but that was impossible now.

Riley turned, moving to head back to the group when a grunt came from a little deeper in the woods. In an instant, her body snapped around again, head tracking where the sound had came from. Again, another grunt followed. The voice was unmistakable.

"Sawyer?" Riley followed the noise, and soon the gruff sounds were followed up by harsh sounds of impact. 

Repeatedly, the stuttered cries and raucous thwacking noises broke through the air. Riley stumbled along the uneven grounds, nearly tripping over the fallen branches. It took no time for her to reach the top of a tiny hill, where the sun fell through the faded branches and shed its light onto a the skin of a tree trunk, where a now dulled axe's blade shattered the bark over and over again.

Holding the handle of the axe, Sawyer's whole body turned as his arm raised above his head, crashing the blade down onto the tree again. The wood was now vastly disheveled, scars of his axe being imprinted into trunk, pieces of bark flying away and chunks of wood coming undone. Sawyer's face was red and wet, fresh tears being born with each second and cascading down his inflamed skin. His knuckles were white as he gripped the axe's handle, gritted teeth displayed by the way his face scrunched up in sobs.

Riley's lips parted upon the fallen sight, jaw falling. No words came to her mind, none leaving her mouth. She hadn't seen him so corrupted since the days of her younger youth, when the health of his mental state had been reckless, untamed, wild. Even then, he'd been able to get help, and it only came back a number of times that could be counted on a single hand during the hardest areas of the outbreak.

Now, he was completely fallen apart. This wasn't a mental thing, though, she knew. It wasn't an outburst or a disorder gone astray. It was grief. 

"Sawyer," She whispered. Her brain felt as if it had lost all words and their meanings alike, leaving her abandoned with nothing but his name alone.

Her brother swung the axe again, harder. A large fracture ruptured along the wood, splintering noises coming from the breakage. His head was hung, hiding the tears that swelled in his eyes despite the fact that they were strewn all over his face.

"Go back, Riley." He said lowly as he wretched the blade from the guts of the tree.

"You're going to ruin your axe." The girl tried weakly. She wanted to convince him to come with her, to not stay out alone where it was dangerous and where his emotion fought off protection, but she couldn't quite form the words.

Sawyer hit at the tree again, his voice growing even more strain with each hit that he swung repeatedly. Finally, his blade sunk into the fresh wood so hard that half of it went missing from sight. He tugged at the weapon, but it didn't come out on the first try like it usually did. He yanked at it again, but it stayed lodged.

"Sawyer-"

"Just go back!"

"I'm not leaving unless you come with me." Riley countered, her voice staying forced at its minimal volume.

Sawyer's body deflated, and one of his hands fell from the axe. He turned to look at her for the first time, and Riley felt a piece of her heart break into fragments at the sight. His paled skin was feverishly blushed all around, eyes so red she had to fight to see the white in them. With tears and sweat mingling into one all around his skin, Sawyer's chest rapidly rose up and down, and finally, he left the axe hanging in the tree.

When his knees nearly lost stability as he fell a few paces closer to her, Riley reached out, pulling his already weakened body into hers. Her hand encased his head into her shoulder, and she was grateful that her own was exposed to the uncovered against the air, as her lungs filled so much she was sure they could've popped. It was like they were interlinked, the sound of his bawling in her ears and the sensation of his tears bleeding through her shirt felt as if the bandaid she'd placed over the dam of her own feelings was ripped off, slowly breaking the whole fortress as they came forward again.

"I'll kill them all," He swore, seething voice so livid, so full of emotion that Riley could practically taste the heat of it on her tongue. "All of them."

She nodded in response, not because she encouraged him to do so, but because she understood him, she almost felt as if she wanted to, too. Had it come down to that, had Grady Memorial shot Beth dead in front of the two of them, Riley wasn't sure if Sawyer would hold back from committing a massacre among them, and she wasn't sure if she would've attempted to stop him.

The younger sister threader her fingers into his hair, lowering her forehead into his neck as she felt her chest shake from the silent cries that latched onto her. She tried to stay silent for his sake, but when the tears began to leave no room for her breathing and the congestion obstructed her nose she was forced to intake a shaking breath that spoke all the words her pain had thrown into the abyss. 

Sawyer's hold on her tightened in response, his sobs getting louder. Riley's cheek fell against the base of his neck, and she supported his weight as her own fell against him. 

She didn't know how many tears she'd cried that day, how many tears she'd just allowed to fall in that moment. All she knew was that she'd gotten just what she'd searched for when she sought her brother out. Maybe seeing Sawyer in the moment where he'd snapped made the sting a little more real, but at least she felt that she'd given him the structure he was beginning to lose, the structure she knew she'd fell through the minute she'd seen Beth's shoes suspended in the air instead of running toward her.

With Sawyer's arms cloaking her body and her teeth catching the hem of his shirt to conceal her cries, Riley's eyes drifted quiveringly toward the sky. So light. So silent. So big, big enough that it had seen Riley, wherever she was, the same moment Beth was abducted. Big enough that it had seen Riley survive her own escape while Beth failed hers. Big enough that it saw Riley pray to the heavens inside of it that Beth would be okay at the same time she was killed. Perhaps now, for Riley and Sawyer both, it would see Beth safely to the other side whilst they broke into shared shambles, grieving her disappearance down on the rotting earth.

Converse shoes wouldn't make the journey. They would probably wear down and then break, leaving the soles of blistered feet- done by the shoes themselves- to walk along roads in nothing. Boots were better, another thing to be grateful for. Even if they were a little too big. Maybe that was better, because at least then Riley had time to grow into them, and time was something she was sure to have a lot of in the days following up.

"We're headin' North." Rick declared to the group.

The sun was setting lower in the sky, and flashlights were beginning to be pulled from backpacks. Everyone was gathered around the man, waiting for further information.

"Virginia." He clarified. "There's a community up there, one that we might be able to join. It's safe, secure. It's a long trip, but if it works out, it's the last long trip we have to make."

There were no objections, but what was there to object to? They had no home, nowhere to go. At least this way, there was a destination to strive for, something to serve as a motivation. They had people, they had vehicles, they had weapons, and some of them still had hope. 

"We'll leave in the morning." Michonne added on from beside Rick. 

No further commentary had risen, all faith placed in the hands of the Grimes. Everyone in the group had spread out to their own places, though their temporary camp was kept in a tight, restricted area. Riley looked over to her right, where her own small bag and bow were placed next to a tree, beside Sawyer and Maggie's bundles. 

She turned on the flashlight in her hands, clicking it onto the lowest setting and shining it into the palm of her hand, where her dagger lay. She'd lost it the day she'd barely survived an escape from Grady Memorial, managing to stab one of the officers in the arm when he'd had her at gun point. Her knife was left, and Samson was too, but Carol had sought her out after she'd returned from the woods with Sawyer and handed it back to her.

"He was planning on giving it back to you himself," Carol had said. "He didn't get the chance, though. So, here."

Riley looked down at the knife now, where the cleaned blade reflected the rising moon like a mirror. She wasn't sure how Samson'd managed to get it without the officers noticing, but somehow he did. Somehow, even through his death, he'd found it back to her.

Her fingertips gently traced the two lines carved into the wood of the handle. Riley guessed that Sam had been marking down the days he was assuming he'd spend in the hospital. His last one was just earlier that day, before he'd been killed prior to his release. The girl was still unaware as to how it happened, she'd overheard Tyreese and Sasha talking about Beth, but she'd tuned out shortly after and therefore missed any news about Sam. She wished to spare herself the details until the time came when the wound had scabbed over just a little.

Riley flipped the blade back into itself as she bent down, putting the pocketknife back into her boot, her usual place of safekeeping for it. As she stood, she made a quick glance around. Sawyer was helping Maggie situate herself by their post and Glenn was over by Rick, most likely discussing their plan for tomorrow and the weeks following.

Riley still had one person left that she was in search of, one person she felt like she owed it to talk to. It wasn't necessarily something she felt obligated to do, but rather more of something she wanted to. Carl had been closed off ever since they brought Beth and Sam out, although Riley knew it was the blonde's death that really hit him in the gut. Once the bodies were placed in the back of the truck and Rick, Abraham, and Michonne were filing everyone back into the vehicles, Carl's arms had withdrawn from around Riley and moved up and down her arms in attempts to coax her into standing. Gentle, comforting acts of taction and a few words of inducement had gotten her to leave the ground and instead into the truck seats, where she'd retracted into a ball with only misty eyes left to be seen by others. After his success, Carl moved elsewhere, his little sister swaddled tightly in his arms. No words were exchanged between them after that point.

Riley glanced around, seeking him out. She wasn't sure who he'd spoken to after the "incident", though she hated to call it that. It made it seem like nothing but a little bump in the road. However, knowing the boy, he'd probably spoken to no one. He'd often resorted to that when pain became too unbearable to ignore. Riley had her brother, and she'd spoken a little with Noah. Maybe Carl wouldn't want to open up, maybe he would rather ignore the topic until the hurt healed itself. It wouldn't hurt to try though, Riley knew. 

It was by the small fire the group had lit that the girl spotted him at. He was seated against his bag, Judith in his lap, completely oblivious to the events that tore the good of earth to so many down that day. She was facing him, little arms reaching up to grab at the rim of his hat. Carl did nothing in response, didn't participate in the infant's interest or shut it down, either. His eyes were focused on the flames before him, seemingly dead, but Riley knew there was a rampaging storm happening in the mind behind them.

She started toward him, pace slow. She was unaware of what she'd even say to him, as she'd felt at a loss of things to say ever since the morning. Maybe the words find her themselves when she finally got to her target.

Riley's nails tracked down the mess of a scab on her palm again, picking at the pieces coming undone as she crossed through the tiny, makeshift camp. It was then, when she was only a few yards away, when Carl heard her boots flatten the leaves beneath them. His head shot up, surveying her sudden approach. He made no move to say anything- or rather, have any reaction at all. The sight of her was just another thing to stumble into his way, nothing to invoke any type of feeling inside of him.

Through the brush of some low hanging branches, Michonne came over to Carl, leaving his father with a few other people on the sidelines of their camp. Riley stopped, not quite sure if it'd be appropriate to go over, just incase they were having their own moment of intimate consolation that she shouldn't be a part of.

Her question was answered at once, though, as Carl nodded in response to whatever Michonne had said to him. He stood, carefully holding out his little sister for the woman to take. He bent down briefly to pick up his gun, placing it into his holster before looking back at Riley. His face was one of stone, no emotion was held, not even sadness. His mouth was utterly still and his hat cast a darkened shadow over his eyes, but the flickering of the fire gave the girl a quick glance of them before they were thrust back into the darkness. There was no empathy in them, no feeling. Any sadness that dribbled from them that morning was gone, but there was no anger, either. Just nothing. 

Riley felt cold, all of the sudden, but not from a drop of temperature. It was as if her insides had frozen, halting any movement necessary to keep her alive. She recognized that look, and as of lately she thought it was a look he'd left in the past, at least when it came to her. But no, it was back, smeared all over his face in a manner all too comfortable, as if it was there to stay for as long as it desired. 

That protective wall was back up, blocking her out, keeping her away from him. Riley felt her stomach twist a little, growing ever more tight as his gaze grew harder, colder. 

The moment felt like a time machine had solidified them in place, but in the true swiftness of a clock, it was really only seconds, because that was all that Carl had granted her. With Judith out of his grasp and his hand locked onto the handle of his gun, Carl turned away, walking off into the line of trees and leaving Riley, waiting and alone, underneath the falling light.

a/n - like i said before, relationships are not going to come that easy, so formal apologies 😝

- also i'd like to say it here the boston is not an undercover creep or villain cus ik there's a lot of trust issues in this show, he's just very very awkward and untimely!!

- also also let's ignore carl's cringey ass dialogue, cus i was rewatching some of the show to pick up on some more character traits from him and that is literally his whole script ...🥲 i try and keep the show characters show accurate but it gets kinda hard when that's how he's written💔

- anyway, my heart is kinda broken cus beth was my best girl and i ADORED samson, but idk if we all feel the same, i've been shedding off my ocs a little too boldly recently </3 gotta cut down on it

- in my feels for sawyer and riley, they are quite literally the trauma siblings but we need some spice up in here so ?? also our fav puppy selva is making a comeback soon, i just didn't find much space here for him unless he was going to attack the dead bodies yk yk

- i say this every time, but ignore the spelling and grammar mistakes, im always have clocked out when i do my editing😭 i might just add that announcement in the synopsis atp

- this is the last chapter of act one tho!! new things coming and that is my biggest motive atm, i cannot believe we're almost at 100k reads before the end of the first act. u guys are my favorite people ever, thank u for making this the best ride of all time💗 i'll see u in act two ;)