Tour Guide ➣ Carl Grimes

46. I Am Negan

It was Dwight. Hannah could picture the man's face, the charred edges and raised scars crawling across his features. She could imagine the look he gave her friends, smug and knowing while he sat chained to a chair. Hannah could also imagine the staring contest that was inevitably taking place between Dwight and Daryl, no doubt with the latter being held back.

When the group got home the night before, with Rosita greeting them at the gates, they had all immediately understood that their guest wasn't exactly a welcome one. It was Tara, Daryl, Rick, Rosita, Michonne, and Jesus who went to the cells that night. Hannha knew part of the reason Rick hadn't allowed herself or Carl to join had to do with a lack of trust. Whether it was because they were still young or if it was entirely to do with their own individual connection to the man, didn't matter. They weren't allowed in.

"What do you think he's doing here?" Hannah started, pacing on the floor of Carl's bedroom, "I mean why the hell would he just show up like that? It has to be a trap or something. There's no way he's here for a truce. They aren't capable of being that good."

Carl sat on his bed, watching intently as the girl walked from one wall to the other, her hands waving wildly as she spoke. He didn't say anything, he didn't try to calm her down. Carl understood her need to vent. She didn't need an answer. She didn't need advice. She just needed him.

"I mean, after everything that's happened, it takes an insane amount of audacity to just show up unannounced like this. Who does he think he is? Your dad can't believe him, right?" She looked at Carl, not for an answer to her rhetorical question, but to know he was still there. "He's too smart for that. Daryl won't let him live, I know he won't. And he deserves it after what he's done. What they've all done. That's not something you can come back from, no matter how many good deeds you've got hidden up you blood stained sleeve."

Her frantic eyes met Carl's calm one, and she stopped pacing. With a sigh, allowing the breath she had deprived herself of to re-enter her lungs, she made her way toward the boy.

"Sorry," she sat beside him on the comforter, "I just, I don't know. They just make me so angry, you know?"

Without realizing it, Hannah had let her head rest on Carl's shoulder, her brows still taut. She'd expected him to tense at the contact, but he made no motion to move her. Instead, slowly, he let his hand cover her's on her leg. His touch was light, feather-like as if he was unsure it was what she needed, but it was all the girl could focus on now. With her head next to his, the flesh of her skin brushing his own, her mind had gone silent for a moment. He grounded her.

Had he meant to? Hannah thought. Had he meant to be her rock? Had he meant to be her only semblance of safety when her mind ran wild?

As Carl clutched her hand, Hannah felt herself squeeze back.

"I get it," he reassured her, "Of course I get it."

---

Negan would be coming today, bringing three trucks and at least twenty men. That's what Dwight had told them. He said that he wanted to warn them, give them time to prepare before Negan arrived.

The plan was to attack his crew while they were in Alexandria. They would take Negan and his men down before word ever got back to the Sanctuary about their trap. Dwight would go over the radio saying all is okay in Alexandria, while Rick and the others ride in, using the Savior's own trucks as a disguise. There, they would take down the Savior's. All of them.

As much as Hannah hated to admit it, the plan seemed solid. As far as she knew, the Saviors would have no reason to suspect Dwight. Or at least, that's what she was counting on.