Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

Bulletproof Weeks

** I intended to follow the show's path of battling against the Saviors. Though it is my most hated cinematic decision, I wanted to include Carl's character arc as it was written in the show. This would have been a major turning point for Belle in the decision to stop seeing Negan as someone who could be saved **

"Just hoping that the right words will come."

"There's my favorite troublemakers," I chimed with a smile as I saw Carl and Judith coloring on the Grimes' front porch.

Judith was in her own little world, barely acknowledging I was here. Carl, from his place on the stairs, smiled back up at me. He pulled himself up, though I could see him wince slightly as he did so. My smile fell a little at that. And when he hugged me, I heard him grunt faintly.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked quietly as we pulled apart.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied. I kept my skeptical gaze on him for a moment.

"Judith, honey, why don't we go and finish up inside, okay, sweets?" I called to the young girl. She nodded and picked up her things.

The two kids and I entered their house. Little Ass Kicker found her way into the living room, finishing up a picture of her and Carl. I pushed the boy back into the nearest closed-off room, which just so happened to be the bathroom.

"What's wrong, Carl?" I asked again.

"Belle, I told you it's nothing."

"Dude, you winced standing up and grunted when I hugged you. What is up?"

"Nothing, I'm--"

"Carl," I said sternly, causing the boy's mouth to shut briefly.

With a sigh, Carl took his hat off and placed it on the sink. His movements softened. I watched every move he made with worried and fearful eyes. He lifted his shirt and revealed a bandage taped to his abdomen.

Oh, fuck.

My breaths increased by the second. I just stared with a terrified gaze. What could have happened?

As he pulled back the bandage, I felt all the air release from my lungs. I could barely look at his skin. The tears hit me forcefully. My mouth fell open.

He got bit.

There were gruesome teeth marks indenting his stomach, the surrounding area already beginning to turn a dark red and purple. He watched my reaction intently, being quick to recover his wound. As I pushed my gaze back up to meet his, he just looked so, so sad.

"Carl," I mumbled out, sobbing painfully.

I hugged him tightly, holding the back of his head in my hand. I couldn't even begin to explain how I felt. I could say heartbroken, but it's more than that. I could say hurt, but it's worse than that. I could say sad, but it's harsher than that.

He was my baby. He was my best friend. Fucking hell, he's eighteen years old. I watched him grow up from the beginning. I raised him. He's looked after me. I don't want to wake up tomorrow and have him not be here.

I pulled myself back and held his face in my hands. He was crying, too. Not as hard as I was. He's had time to cope with this.

"What the fuck, Carl?" I squawked out. He just gave me a sympathetic look.

"What the--" I stopped myself. I began to raise my voice. Judith can't know about this right now. "--what the fuck," I finished quieter.

I was angry. I was so fucking angry. He shouldn't have to die. He's a kid.