Just Keep Walking

Fifty nine

"Hey, Denise? Denise!" Mary shouted, knocking on her and Tara's bedroom door.
"Hmm. One second!" A groggy voice called, and a few seconds later, Tara was at the door, having only just woken up. "Mary? Mary, what's wrong?"
"Maggie says she needs Denise now. She said it's super important, and I have to stay up here with you." Mary explained, a hint of panic in her voice.
"Okay. Okay, I'll get her. She's awake. Denise?! Denise! They need you downstairs." Tara said urgently. Denise came to the door in confusion, and Tara's eyes met her's. "It's Carl, I think. It's important." Tara whispered. Denise nodded, and pulled on her glasses, then ran down the stairs, still in her pyjamas.
"Mary, come on in. Come on, show me what you've got there." Tara smiled, shutting the door as soon as Mary was in the room to prevent as much noise from coming in. She opened the curtains, letting sunlight in, and for the second that Mary coulda see her, the panic she had hidden flashed across her face.
"Pictures. For Carl. It'll make him feel better." Mary explained.
Tara felt sick as she heard Denise and Maggie running around downstairs, and after picking out a few key words, she knew what had happened. She knew Carl had tried to kill himself.
"I'm sure it will." Tara smiled, fake and chirpy, "Shall we watch a movie?" She asked, as the talking downstairs got louder, and Mary nodded. Tara slid a DVD into the TV in her and Denise's bedroom, and old episodes of How I Met Your Mother began to play, which Mary giggled along to, nestled into Tara's side, not knowing what was happening downstairs.

"Hey." Michonne said shakily an hour later, coming to Denise and Tara's bedroom door.
"Mishy!" Mary grinned, jumping up and running over to her.
"Hey, sweetie. Hi." Michonne whispered, scooping her up and holding her to her chest.
"What's wrong? Why can't I come downstairs? And where's daddy and Maggie?"
"Listen... I have some sad news. Carl got... Carl got sicker, overnight. He got really sick, and nearly died. But he didn't."
"Carl never dies," Mary said firmly, "he's a badass."
"Yeah. Yeah, he is. But he's really sick, so we have to be good, okay? Daddy is really upset, and so is Maggie. Okay?"
"Okay." Mary whispered, noticing the severity of the situation.
"Okay. We just need to give Carl lots of love, okay? You're good at that."
"Okay. I can do that." Mary nodded, trying her hardest to be brave.
"Alright. Come on then, my angel, let's go see daddy and Carl. Carl is asleep for now though."
"Okay." Mary nodded softly, reaching up and looping her arms around Michonne's neck, making the woman carry her.
"Here. His pictures." Tara reminded gently. Michonne walked over and took the papers, then thanked Tara and went downstairs, to Carl, to Rick.
"Will he get better?" Mary asked quietly, and Michonne breathed out shakily.
"Yeah. He will."
"Good. That's all that matters."
"Moo?" Rick asked softly as Michonne walked into the room.
"Hi daddy. Mishy said Carl got worse, but he'll get better now." Mary greeted, but her smile fell when she saw Rick's face in his hands, pale and shaking, looking distraught. "Daddy. Carl's fine. Carl's fine. Isn't he?"
"Yeah. He'll be okay." Rick mumbled into his hands.
"Rick." Michonne called firmly, and Rick's head shot up, finally seeing his fragile daughter, her petrified, wild eyes, and his face softened. He knew he had to pretend he wasn't hurting, just for a second, because Mary needed him.
"Hey, baby. Come on. Come on now, you're okay. You're right, Carl's gonna be just fine." Rick soothed, walking over and taking Mary from Michonne.
"Definitely?"
"Definitely. I don't ever lie, do I? Do I?"
"No." Mary admitted, and Rick forced himself to give her a smile.
"Okay. Okay, I think Teddy wanted to play with you today. Why doesn't Mishy take you to go play with him?"
"Okay," Mary nodded, "and she can stay?"
"No, with Teddy and Teddy's mommy."
"I'll stay." Michonne nodded, seeing the worry on Mary's face.
"Okay. Okay, see you later."
"Bye bye." Mary sighed, kissing Rick's cheek. He put her down, and she went and kissed Carl's pale cheek, her gaze on the sick boy's face long and sad.
"I'll see you soon." Rick assured her, and she left with Michonne. As soon as they were gone and the door was shut, Rick put his head in his hands and began to cry again. To him, it simply didn't make sense - why would his son, who seemed happy before he lost his eye, and who fought so hard for his survival, try to kill himself?
Finally, after an hour of staring at his son with teary eyes, Rick saw Carl's eye flicker open. "Carl?" Rick asked straight away, leaping up to stand by his bedside, stroking his hair back from his face.
"I'm sorry," Carl sobbed as soon as he saw his father's face, "I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad. Don't be mad at me. Please."
"Hey, hey, I'm not mad. I'm not mad. Don't worry, I'm not mad." Rick soothed, tears choking up in his throat.
"As soon as I did it, I changed my mind. As soon as I did it, I knew it wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want to die. I just... I don't know... Wanted it to end. But as soon as I did it, I changed my mind. I'm so sorry." Carl cried.
"Carl. I'm not mad, I just don't understand. I'm not mad at you. I couldn't ever be truly mad at you. I just need you to... I need you to tell me what to do. What can I do to help? I-I need to, I need to help you. What can I do?"
"I don't know. I don't know. I... I'll be okay."
"No. Carl, what can I do?" Rick said gently, and Carl met his eyes shakily.
"Give me my eye back." Carl whispered through his sobs, and Rick's heart shattered. He couldn't help.
"Carl. Please, is there anything else? What else can I do?" Rick begged.
"I just wanna go home. I want to go home, and everything to go back to normal." Carl said shakily.
"Okay," Rick nodded, "that's what we'll do."
And that night, Carl went to sleep in his own bed.