In a world ruled by fear, survival comes with a price.
When her brother's attempt to overthrow the Saviors fails, Tessa finds herself under Negan's watchful eye-protected, controlled, and dangerously close to the man she should hate. As violence, po...
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The sewer felt smaller than it had minutes ago. Not because more people were in it—but because the truth was. Tessa sat with her back against the damp stone wall, knees pulled tight to her chest, arms wrapped loosely around herself. Not hugging—just holding the shape of her body together. The air smelled like rust and smoke and something sour she couldn't name. The buzzing lights overhead flickered, stuttering just enough to make everything feel unreal, like the world was buffering.
Her head felt strangely light. Empty.
"I-I don't... how..." Rick whispered.
"Dad... it's all right. It's gotta be. I wasn't sure if you'd make it back before... but just in case, you know..."
Carl handed Rick the envelopes. A lot of them.
"I wanted to make sure I was able to say goodbye."
Siddiq knelt in front of him, hands shaking as he dug through his pack. "I, um... I got these. They're over-the-counter, non-steroidal anti-inflammatories. They'll help a little with the fever. They did for my mom and dad. Please take them. Your son... he should have them."
Tessa reached for the bag. "You're a doctor?"
"I was a medical resident," Siddiq said quietly, voice tight. "Before everything. This won't stop it... but it might help with the pain."
"Your name is Siddiq?"
"Yes," he said.
Rick looked at his son. "Did you know he was a doctor? Is that why you brought him back?"
"He wasn't gonna make it alone. He needed us. That's why." The answer didn't surprise Tessa. She knew how kind her nephew was. He saved people.
Carl took the pills without hesitation.
Tessa watched his hands.
They looked normal. Steady. The kind of hands that should still be opening doors and holding weapons and grabbing Judith's fingers when she tried to walk. Her mind stalled there—on how normal he looked. Like this wasn't happening. Like if she focused hard enough, reality would lose interest and move on.
Rosita paced a few feet away, boots splashing softly through shallow water. "We can't stay here," she said, running a hand through her hair. "They're destroying Alexandria. We need to move. Hilltop is still safe."
Dwight shook his head. "They won't keep firing forever. They'll run out of ammo. We wait it out." The words floated past Tessa without landing. Sound felt distant. Muffled. Like she was underwater.
Carl lifted his head and motioned for her to come closer. "It's gotta stop, Tessa," he said. "We need to stop fighting them. It's not supposed to be like this."
Tessa stiffened. "Carl—"
"No," he said, firmer now. "I mean it. I know it can be better."
She swallowed. She wanted to tell him to stop talking. To save his breath. To let someone else carry the weight for once. But Carl had always been like this—quietly stepping forward when everyone else hesitated. Carrying hope like it was his responsibility.
