» Time Is Dancing « | » Carl Grimes «

» CHEROKEE ROSE «

Daryl Dixon, Flower Picker. At Your Service

"You can see him."

Rick's words seemed to release all the tension inside me as he exited the room. I leapt from my seat and sped towards the door, almost skipping until Rick held a hand out.

"He doesn't know that Sophia is still missing, okay?" He mumbled in a low voice. "I just thought he should be worrying about himself right now. I don't feel good lying to him but I hope you know it's for his own good."

I didn't feel good lying about it either, but I trusted Rick to know what was best for his son. I nodded my head quickly before shoving the door open, all the concern melting away the moment I set foot inside.

Carl sat up in the bed, clean white sheets tucked under his arms. His eyes were heavy and tired but there was still a smile on his face as soon as he saw me. I crossed the room immediately, almost jumping on the bed from the excitement.

"Carl! You're alive!" I exclaimed as I folded my legs, perching on the side nearest the door. He laughed at my uncharacteristic energy, causing a burst of giggles to escape my smiling lips. I pointed up to his head, where a familiar item nestled among his hair. "Cool hat."

He took it off to inspect it before dropping it in his lap. "Thanks. My Dad gave it to me." He smiled softly at the mention of his father, the rim of the hat bending as he wrapped his fingers around it.

I hugged my knees to my chest as I reached out, my hand brushing the material gently. "The grown ups are at a funeral. Glenn told me to stay behind, keep you company." I shrugged casually, my eyes flitting out the window curiously. I could see the circle of people around a small pile of stones, a book open in Hershel's arms as he recited a passage. Patricia, Otis' wife, clung onto Maggie as she wept, her body shaking visibly even from here.

Carl didn't reply, his gaze cast down as a flash of guilt crossed his features. After all, Otis did die to retrieve the equipment for the surgery, but then again he had shot him in the first place.

A brief smile perked my lips up as I shuffled off the bed, my feet taking me over to the bedside table. On it was a vase, cracked porcelain containing a collection of drying flowers and leaves. "I picked these for you, for good luck or whatever. They worked a whole lot better than this." I pulled the dried heather from my pocket, twirling between my fingers before tucking it into the crease of his new hat.

Carl reached out to touch it, fondness in his eyes as he brushed the delicate petals. "I'm okay now. I promise." He reassured me.

My fingers tangled together in a state of nerves, my gaze drifting around the room awkwardly. "Good. I don't want you to die. Ever." Confessing emotions had never been my strong suit, unless you counted rage or hatred.

The funeral didn't last long, presumably because there wasn't a whole lot to say. Otis was gone and life would move on, same as it always did in this world.

I was eventually forced out of the room to allow Rick and Lori more time with Carl, leaving me standing in the hallway as the door shut behind me. I understood, of course, but he was my friend, too.

Still, I didn't spend too long thinking about it as I decided it was time to finally meet Hershel. He saved Carl's life after all, he deserved my appreciation.

I found him at the dining room table, a tray of tools in front of him from the surgery. I leaned on the doorframe curiously, my eyes dancing over the equipment as he polished them clean.

"Thank you for saving my friend. It was nice of you." I awkwardly stuttered, my fingers laced together distractedly. The glint of metal had caught my attention, an inquisitive frown on my lips.