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Morning crept in, pale and slow, the sky strung with thin clouds that caught the first light like old lace. Raven woke before her alarm, muscles aching in that good, used way. She lay in her bunk for a minute, staring at the ceiling, letting herself remember the night before—Carl's laugh, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the almost accidental touch as they walked the fence line. It was the first time in a long time she'd woken up thinking about something other than what could go wrong.
She pulled on her boots and shrugged into her jacket, already running through the day's checklist in her head. Patrol rotations, supply inventories, a meeting with Dale about the south gate. The usual. But it all felt lighter, easier somehow. Maggie and Wyatt were a flicker in the background, barely a memory. It was Carl's voice she carried with her now, Carl's steady presence at her side.
Outside, the compound buzzed with early activity. People moved between tents, hauling water, getting breakfast going. Raven cut through the mess of morning chores, nodding to folks as she passed, but her mind was elsewhere. She kept catching herself looking for Carl, scanning the crowd for his uneven gait, that battered old jacket he never took off.
She found him near the greenhouse, crouched in the dirt, coaxing new shoots up from last season's tired soil. He glanced up when he saw her, face breaking into a real, no-bullshit smile. The kind that made her feel like she was standing on solid ground for the first time in ages.
"Hey," she said, trying not to sound too eager.
"Hey yourself," he answered, wiping his hands on his jeans. "You sleep at all?"
She shrugged. "Enough. You?"
"Little. Night was good, though."
She nodded, and for a second neither of them said anything. The world seemed to hush around them—just the two of them in that patch of sunlight, everything else fading to the edges.
"You want some coffee?" Carl asked. "It's terrible, but it's hot."
Raven grinned. "Sold."
They walked to the mess together, shoulders almost brushing, no hurry to get anywhere. She realized she was smiling for no reason, just because she could. No one else seemed to notice, but she did. The weight she always carried—the need to measure up, to be stronger, to never let anything slip—felt lighter with him around. Like maybe she didn't have to carry it all by herself.
They sat on the steps, mugs in hand, watching the compound wake up. For the first time in a long time, Raven didn't feel like she was on the outside looking in. She was right where she wanted to be.
* * * *
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The day stretched out, long and golden, the kind of autumn afternoon that made even the battered edges of New America look almost inviting. Raven moved through her routine, checking the water drums, sorting through salvaged gear, talking to Dale about the fence repairs. But wherever she went, Carl was never far behind.
He didn't hover — at least, not in the obvious, needy way. He just had a knack for showing up wherever she was, as if by accident, like the two of them were just naturally orbiting the same sun. He'd offer to help patch a roof or haul crates over to the supply shed, then stick around after the job was done, making small talk that slowly edged into something softer. Raven caught herself listening for his footsteps, scanning for his silhouette in the corners of her vision. More than once, she'd spot him watching her, quick to look away when she tried to catch his eye.
She told herself it was nothing. He was just being friendly, just grateful to be included, just bored. But the truth was, she liked having him near. Maybe a little too much.
After lunch, she found herself out by the old watchtower, clipboard in hand, double-checking patrol schedules. Carl wandered over, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes bright against the glare.
"Need a hand?" he asked, leaning in to peek at her list.
She tried to sound casual. "You volunteering for extra shifts? I thought you were smarter than that."
He grinned. "Depends who I'd be working with."
Raven rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop the small smile at the corner of her mouth. "You really want to spend more time with me? You know I'm not exactly the best company."
Carl shrugged. "I don't mind. Besides, you're not as tough as you pretend to be."
She shot him a look, but he just held it, unflinching. There was a challenge in his eyes, and something else — something hopeful, maybe, or just brave enough to let itself be seen.
They worked side by side for a while, the silence between them easy, as if they'd spent years doing this. When the wind picked up, Raven tightened her jacket and Carl offered her half his sandwich, which she accepted without thinking. They talked about little things — the best place to fish in the old river, who made the strongest coffee, which building would fall over next storm. She realized she was telling him stories she'd never told anyone, letting him see the pieces of herself she usually kept hidden.
Every so often, Raven would catch him glancing her way, eyes lingering a beat too long, smile just a little too soft. She wondered if he knew how obvious it was. She wondered if she was just as bad, giving herself away in every nervous laugh and sideways glance.
By late afternoon, the compound had started to shift into evening mode. People gathered around fires, talking low and tired, the day's work behind them. Raven and Carl finished their rounds and found themselves standing by the fence, watching the sky turn pink behind the trees. The world felt smaller, quieter, like it was just the two of them out here.
Carl leaned on the fence rail, close enough that Raven could feel the warmth of him. "You ever think about what you'd be doing if things hadn't gone bad?" he asked, voice gentle.
Raven took a minute, thinking. "Sometimes. Used to think I'd be running a bar somewhere. Or maybe out west, where the air's clean." She glanced at him. "You?"
He looked down at his hands, thoughtful. "I don't know. Guess I'd be looking for something that felt like home. Never really had that before." He met her eyes, and for a second the world stopped spinning. "Feels a little like I found it now, though."
She looked away, heart thumping, afraid to say the wrong thing. "Yeah," she said, voice rough. "Me too."
The sun slid lower, painting the world in gold and shadow. Raven felt the old ache — the fear of letting anyone in, the worry that she'd lose everything if she tried. But Carl was still there, steadfast and calm, waiting for her to catch up.
He nudged her arm, gentle, testing. "You want to get dinner with me tonight? Just... us?"
She hesitated, but only for a heartbeat. "Yeah. I'd like that."
They walked back toward the heart of camp together, steps slow, neither of them in a hurry to get anywhere else. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Raven let herself hope that maybe — just maybe — she wasn't the only one feeling this way.
