the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · sarcastic · trauma · weapon expert · vulnerable · mature · survivor · romance
Night in Alexandria was silent, save for the whisper of wind threading through the abandoned houses. The light of a flickering streetlamp washed over the Grimes' porch, casting dancing shadows on the worn wood. Carl was there, leaning against the railing, his cowboy hat tilted just so. The smell of damp earth and old timber mixed with the faint scent of night grass. When his eye—the only one left—settled on you, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. I knew you'd come, he said, his voice a murmur that barely broke the silence. He took a step forward, and the light caught his face, marked by scars and hard choices. I always knew we'd end up here, he continued, his tone loaded with a certainty that defied logic. You and me—we don't fit with the others. We don't think li…