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“And here it is — the grand-prize game!” Negan announces. Rick Grimes is… well, Rick is , apparently. He doesn't feel like it. He feels like he’s somewhere else, someone else, far away from here, floating somewhere above the horizon.This isn't happening. This can't be happening. There’s blood and snot dripping down his face. Glenn and Abraham are dead, dead because of his oversight, because he couldn't save them.Maggie is sick, Maggie is still sick, she could die any second. This can't be happening but it is. It is, and Negan is still looking at him, and Rick doesn't think he can do this anymore.He has survived so much. He is tired of surviving. But he has to. For the sake of everyone else, he has to.So Rick doesn't scream, and Rick doesn't do anything stupid, and Rick tries desperately to keep his head screwed on right because he doesn't have any other fucking choice. “What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day,” Negan says, and Rick feels like screaming.Something else- Negan is going to do something else to them? What else is there to take? Rick almost doesn't want to know.“Get some guns to the back of their heads.” The sound of guns cocking. Rick flinches despite himself. “Good. Now... level with their noses, so if you have to fire…”Negan made an exploding motion with his hands. “It'll be a real mess .”Negan walks down the line, like he’s searching for someone to pick out of the group. Rick hopes… Rick just hopes. And then the damning sound: “Kid.”Rick squeezes his eyes shut. Silently, he prays. He prays to God and he prays to the Devil and he prays to everyone he’s ever lost, everyone who might be out there to listen.No one answers.Rick opens his eyes again and Carl is wrenched to his feet.Inexplicably, Negan unbuckles his belt, and for a second Rick thinks- for a second Rick thinks about a possibility so goddamn depraved it shouldn't ever cross anyone’s mind.But Negan doesn't touch his pants. He takes his belt in his hands and he points at a spot in the gravel. “Right here,” he says, and Carl begrudgingly stands there in front of the man. “You a southpaw?”“Am I a what ?” Negan huffs, more amused than anything else.“You a lefty ?” “No.”“Good.”Negan steps forward and wraps the belt around Carl’s arm, just above the bicep, like a… like a tourniquet. Rick’s heart starts to beat at double time. “That hurt?” “No.”“Should. It's supposed to…” no change in Carl’s expression. Whatever Negan was looking for there, he doesn't find it. He takes a step back and tilts his head, seemingly changing course. “Hm. What’s your name, son?”“Name’s Carl, and I'm not your son.” The disdain in Carl’s voice was palpable. Negan laughed. “You know, Carl, you're lookin’ at me like you've got somethin’ to say. You’re kinda like your dad that way, with that fuckin’ eye… so do you, kid? You have something you wanna tell me?”Silence. Negan leaned close enough to Carl’s face that it made Rick’s hands twitch.“Go’n. Don't be shy. Go on and say it. Whatcha thinkin’ up in that big head of yours?” “I'm thinking,” Carl says, his voice like ice, “that you should shoot yourself in the head to save yourself from what we’re gonna do when we get our hands on you.”Complete silence, like nails on a chalkboard.But Negan took a few steps back and laughed, loud and real. He shook his head. “Now that's interesting,” Negan said. “That. Is. Interesting! You have some fucking balls, kid. I just bashed in the heads of two of your little friends here and your response is to threaten me. To threaten me .”Negan glanced back at Rick.“Did you teach him that utter lack of disrespect or is this a new development?”“I…” Rick swallowed thickly. “He didn’ mean it. He-”“No, he meant it,” Negan said. “Can't take it back, we all heard him.And that kid fucking meant it. Sheesh! Listen, Rick, I understand. Teenagers… you never fuckin’ know what they'll do. ‘S not your fault he’s out of line.”Negan undid the belt on Carl's arm and handed Lucille off to another Savior. He turned back around and cracked his knuckles.“Yet another goddamn mess of yours I’ve gotta clean up, huh, Rick?”He was barely done with the sentence before he turned on his heel, reeled back, and punched Carl square in the jaw.Carl went down: Rick cried out and jerked forward but somehow forced himself not to stand. Daryl made to get up but Rick shot him the sharpest look he could manage and Daryl stayed put.When it was clear Carl intended on staying where he was, Negan rolled his eyes. He grabbed Carl by the front of his shirt, hauled him up, and slammed him against the RV.When he let go, Carl slid down to the ground. Every sound rocked Rick down to his bones. Carl wiped the blood from his split lip with a shaky hand.Hurt but alive, alive, alive, Carl was still alive. Rick held onto that like a lifeline. “Come on!” Negan said. “That's it? You're gonna talk game like that and not even hit me back? What, is it ‘cause you expect your Daddy to do it for you?He’s not gonna be around forever, Carl, just like your other pals here. Get up . Fight, you little shit!”Carl glared and then lunged at the older man. It made Negan stumble but of course it wasn't enough to knock him over. Carl landed a hit to Negan’s face before Negan tackled him.The angle was odd from Rick’s point of view. He heard Carl make a sound he’d never heard before, some combination of a snarl and a shout, and then Negan shouted— something close to a yelp, even.Their positions flipped. Carl leapt to his feet but Negan was already up, and he grabbed Carl by the hair and kneed him in the stomach. Rick made a strangled sound when Carl hit the gravel, coughing and gasping for air.Negan took a few steps back and brought his hand up to his neck. His eyes were wide and wild, feral in a way that Rick was utterly terrified of. “God damn !” Negan cried, an odd mixture of offense and elation. “Holy shit , kid. Did you just try to rip my throat out with your teeth ?”Ice down Rick's spine. Jesus. He could taste Joe’s blood in his mouth. Negan laughed again and followed Carl, kicking him a second time.Carl made an awful, choked sound as he curled in on himself, arms desperately rising to protect his head.And Rick was there again on that roadside, Michonne at gunpoint and Daryl as good as dead, except this time there was nothing he could do . Rick felt a sob rise in his throat. “Please,” he breathed. “Please, you can— you can hurt me, do whatever you want with me, just—“ “Your boy is a goddamn animal, Rick,” Negan said, hands on his hips. “Jesus Jennifer Christ . Talk about desperate measures!” “Don’t kill him,” Rick croaked. “I’ll do anything, please, please —““Kill him?” Negan said, bewildered, still smiling. “Why would I kill him? I haven’t had this much fun in ages! I mean, usually the Sanctuary has a bit of an age requirement going on, but…You know, I was gonna take that shaggy haired asshole right there, but maybe the blood of that Asian kid on his hands is enough to teach him a lesson. This one, on the other hand—“Negan grabbed Carl by the hair and lifted him up on his knees. Carl made an awful wheezing sound low in his chest.“—this one has shown some promise!” Rick didn’t understand. He blinked rapidly. “I’m… I don’t…”“Okay,” Negan said. “This is a lot to take in, man, alright, I’ll spell it out for you. Hold on to your crossbow freak. In the meantime, Rick, I’m gonna take your boy back with me.”It clicked. Rick couldn't breathe . “What?” Rick whispered. “No, I- I- Negan, please—““Dad?” Carl slurred, clearly disoriented.“Carl,” Rick breathed, and Negan dropped him so he could step in front of the boy’s slumped form.“Rick,” Negan said, snapping his fingers in front of the man’s face. “Rick, you’re not listening , man. I need you to focus.”Rick managed to drag his eyes away from his son and blink up at Negan.“‘M focused,” Rick croaked. “Please, I-““Look, I’m not gonna keep your kid forever . Just for a little. Just so I can figure out what makes him tick, and then you can have him back, safe and sound… more or less.I mean he’ll be having nightmares about this for the rest of his probably very short, very sad life, but me and the guys’ll definitely get a kick out of it, so everything evens out in the end, y’know?”“Y’ can have me,” Daryl rasped, fighting against the man holding him back. “Y’ can have me-.”“Nope!” Negan said, standing back up.“See, I don’t think you guys understand what’s going on here. I don’t want to kill the kid but I will if I have to. I can just go ahead and splatter his brains all over the goddamn dirt if you guys aren’t willing to be reasonable .So, final offer, Rick: I’m gonna take your son, and in a week or so, we’re gonna swing by Alexandria for tribute. If you give us what we need, you can have the kid back, safe and sound…”Negan grabbed Rick’s chin and jerked him forward. His voice was a whisper,“… and if you don’t, Rick… if you try to show us up, or run away, or attack us? You show any insubordination whatsoever? I’ll pull your kid's spine out through his teeth in front of you and leave his body out for the crows. Do I make myself clear?” “Yes,” Rick croaked, eyes occasionally flicking to the limp, bloodied form of his son. He was still breathing. As long as Carl was still breathing —“Thank me,” Negan ordered quietly, “for giving you such a generous offer, Rick.” “Th-thank you,” Rick managed, and Negan smiled. “Perfect. That’s just perfect! Glad we could come to this little agreement. I knew you’d be perfectly reasonable with a little convincing—“ “D-Dad?” Carl croaked, pushing himself up. Blood was crusted in his hair. Rick swallowed thickly. “It’s okay,” Rick said. “You’re okay, son, y-you’re…” Negan sighed and stepped aside, motioning for the person behind Rick to… something.Rick realized what it was when the man turned their gun away and shoved him forwards. Rick stumbled towards his son and hurriedly gathered Carl into his arms. “Dad,” Carl mumbled again, and Rick just held him for a moment, pressing Carl’s head to his chest and feeling the pulse in his neck.Alive. Alive. He wasn't going to lose his son today, he wasn't. He wasn't… the words tumbled out of his mouth. “It's me, it's just me, it's just dad. You're okay. You- you're gonna be okay.” “What are you…” Carl trailed off, trying in vain to sit up. “Time’s a wasting!” Negan said. Rick swallowed thickly and squeezed his eyes shut.For a moment, he thought that maybe he couldn't do it.Maybe he couldn't let go of Carl, couldn't leave him to whatever fate he was going to endure at the hands of this- this madman .For the first time in his life Rick understood what Lori said all those years ago. Maybe it would be better- maybe it would be a mercy to let Carl die. But even as he thought it, something in Rick recoiled from the idea.It didn't matter if it might be better for Carl to die. Rick was a selfish, selfish man. He could do it. He could condemn Carl to this, if it meant he’d get to see him again, alive and breathing. He would.It was a sacrifice Rick would make- even if it wasn't his to make.Rick sobbed. Clutched Carl tighter. “Carl, just… it's going to be okay. I need you- just survive this for me, okay? Just survive this for me. Please .” “Rick,” Negan said, a warning in his tone. Rick took a deep breath and forced himself to let go with shaky hands, pushing back a few inches and leaving Carl in the dirt.Negan swept Carl’s lanky body into a bridal carry. He brushed the hair away from Carl’s eye in a gesture that was almost loving. Carl made a confused sound. Rick wanted to throw up.“Anyway, Rick, that concludes our business for tonight.” Negan turned around.“Dwight, go out ahead and tell the doc to get his shit ready. Also tell David if I catch him anywhere near our new guest I’ll cut his dick off. You know what, I’ll just have Arat do that, she’s been wanting to fuck with David for weeks.Alright, boys, let’s move out!”So Negan disappears into the dark with the last remaining pieces of Rick’s heart, and he finally lets himself crumple into the dirt.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Carl left the hat behind. Rick scooped it up before they left, determined to give it back to Carl when they saw him next. It feels like an assurance.
Daryl isn't very good at saying the words “I'm sorry,” or any words, for that matter.
Instead he leaves several squirrels and a deer pelt on Rick’s porch, and of course Rick just wishes Daryl would fucking talk to him instead, but he’ll take what he can get.
He doesn't spend long in Alexandria. He spends most of his time outside of the walls, combing the surrounding area for anything and everything.
Aaron can barely keep up with him but Rick doesn't care. He needs to find as much as he can, he needs to prove to Negan that he can play along. He needs to get his son back.
Needs
to.
He feels fucking crazy, like an animal, some sort of mama bear instinct that wants blood or it's baby and nothing else. Nothing else in the world that could possibly satisfy it. Nothing.
So Rick runs himself absolutely ragged, turning up every corner, searching and stripping every nook and cranny.
When he does come home he holds Judith and doesn't let go of her, presses his face to the top of her head and whispers
I'm going to bring him back to you
.
She cries a lot. Her eyes drift away from Rick and around the room like she’s looking for someone else and doesn't like that she can't find him.
Michonne helps where she can, but they're all grieving.
Rick counts the minutes, the hours, the days. It's the longest seven days of his life.
At night he dreams of the sound Carl made when Negan kicked him in the stomach, of Sophia coming out of the barn except it's not Sophia, it's his son, rotted down to bone.
He dreams of Lori screaming and Negan’s laugh and Glenn’s blood all over the dirt.
No rest for the wicked. It's all Rick can do to remind himself that this is his fault.
Two days after getting the shit kicked out of him, Carl sits in Negan’s office and tries not to shake apart.
“Office” feels like a strange word. Like Carl’s in trouble with the principal instead of being circled by a serial murderer with the weapon in hand.
But Carl is sitting there nonetheless, shoulders hunched, staring at the floor in front of him while Negan paces.
“I'm not gonna say that I don't respect you. Because I do! You're a stupid little punk but I respect the hell out of you.
Sometimes it takes guts to be stupid. I mean- what was it? What did you fucking say to me?
I have your friends blood on my bat and you said- what was it, you said… you said, ‘you should shoot yourself in the head to save yourself from what my people are gonna do when we get our hands on you.’”
Negan laughed incredulously.
“I'm gonna be honest, sweetheart, I'm gonna tell you the truth: if you were an adult, I woulda spilled your brains all over the goddamn place, no matter what you said next. That's just the way it is.
But I'm a bad guy, kid, I'm not a
bad guy
. I believe in second chances. Lord knows I did some stupid shit back when I was your age.
I mean, granted, talking back to a warlord isn't the same thing as having two girlfriends at the same time, but you know, there’s some leeway here.
Besides, Carl, I'm interested. I wanna see who you become. I want a look at this little serial killer here in five, ten years.”
Negan paused. He grabbed a chair and pulled it up in front of Carl.
“Lets talk, man. Yeah? Lets fucking talk. I wanna get to know you, Carl.”
Carl swallows. Of all the ways this could go, a prying conversation wasn't that bad. Carl glanced up at Negan.
“What do you want to know?” Carl croaked. Negan smiled broadly and leaned back.
“Rick’s your dad, isn't he?”
“Yeah.”
“Where’s mom?”
“She… she didn't make it.”
“She turn?”
“No.” A pause. “I had to shoot her in the head before she did.” Negan laughed.
“Holy shit kid, that's crazy. You really are a little serial killer, aren't you…” Negan trailed off, leaning against his desk.
“You know what? This is just too much. It's like talking to a birthday present. I wanna see what grandma gave me.
Take that shit off your face.” Carl tensed.
“No,” he croaked. Negan raised his eyebrows.
“No? Okay. Get on your knees.” Carl stared at him.
“I- I-” Negan walked closer, setting Lucille down in front of him. Carl stared at it, at the fresh viscera coating it. His breathing was uneven, shoulders shaking. Negan leaned down.
“Carl,” he said softly. “On. Your. Knees.” Carl swallowed thickly and went, shakily sliding off the chair and down to the carpet. Negan nodded.
“See? I knew you were capable of following instructions! Just need a little incentive, is all.”
Anticipation is a living, breathing thing in his chest, writhing. Carl’s going to throw up. He’s going to keel over.
The rage -
he can't do this, he can't fucking do this
- wars with the fear -
he can do whatever the fuck he wants, can't he
- and all that comes out of it is Carl freezing in place.
Negan sets the bat on his desk and walks over. Carl barely feels the calloused fingers against his head, pulling at the bandage around his face, unwinding it.
Carl doesn't move. The bandage falls. Negan pulls back to push the bangs away from Carl’s face. And realistically Carl knows it's coming, he knows, he
does
, he just-
“Christ!” Negan exclaimed. “That is disgusting. No wonder you cover that up. Have you seen it? I mean, have you looked in the mirror? That is gross as hell. I can see your socket.”
Carl lets himself shudder, sniffles because he can't stop himself.
Of course he’s looked at himself in the mirror. Of course he knows how disgusting it is, of course he knows what he fucking looks like now.
It's what the bandages are for. To cover it up, to preserve some fucking dignity, to not have everyone know how profoundly fucked up he is.
Negan’s good at this, Carl thinks distantly. There are few ways to make him feel like someone’s flayed all his skin off to get a good look at the rotting mess underneath, few ways to get him feeling raw and exposed - this is one of them.
Carl makes the mistake of thinking it can't get much worse.
Because then Negan tilts his head up, holds it in place with one hand and with the other- with
the other
- Carl jerks back without even thinking about it.
It's not a conscious decision so much as instinct, an animal compulsion to flee from pain.
Negan holds him in place easily. It's not like Carl weighs much, and after the first few attempts he thinks better of it and goes still again, tense as a bowstring.
Negan doesn't seem to notice, doesn't seem to care.
He has the interest of a scientist, an explorer, a little boy incinerating ants in the garden, pulling wings off a butterfly just to watch it squirm on the concrete.
So Negan probes the wound, fingers
in
Carl’s eye socket, brushing over the scar tissue.
Carl keeps making these fucking
noises
, short and sharp, slipping between his teeth before he can even think to stop them.
“Stop,” he huffs out eventually, more of a whine than a word, grasping at Negan’s arm. “S, Stop,
s-s-stop
-”
“Shhh,” Negan says, and all Carl can do is whimper like an animal.
He feels like an animal, the kind of fear that reduces you down to instinct. He sure as fuck doesn't feel human.
Carl gets the desperate urge to shout for his father to save him and just barely manages to keep from doing it, clinging to whatever remains of his pride.
It's impossible to say how long it goes on for. In reality it's probably only around twenty seconds, maybe thirty, before Negan mumbles “interesting” and withdraws his fingers.
His other hand doesn't let go, fingers curled around Carl’s jaw.
He fiddles with the pockets of his jacket for a minute and Carl blinks, returning to his body for the moment, struggling to get his breathing back to normal.
He shouldn't be crying in front of this man. Then again, there are a lot of things that shouldn't happen.
Negan seems to find what he’s looking for and then there’s a sound Carl doesn't really recognize. Metal against metal? Negan pulls back and tilts his head.
“Yeah,” he says. “There we go, kid. No more hiding for your sorry ass.” Carl glances down and his gaze catches on something.
Hair. His hair. Not much of it- just the bangs from where his right eye would be. Carl just blinks at the scraps for a second. Negan runs a hand through his hair.
“I'm not trying to be too hard on you,” he says, like he
cares
, and Carl thinks he might lose his fucking mind.
“I like you, kid. I don't want to have to do this kinda thing again. I think it's important we be on the same page so I don't have to, is all. Don't wanna leave you too much room for error…” a pause. “Who do you belong to?”
“You,” Carl croaks. The word tastes like betrayal but it's not as difficult this time. Like there’s blood to ease the way.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You,” Carl repeats. Second time. There isn't a third. Negan just nods. Picks his bat back up and sighs.
“Alrighty, sport. I think that's enough for today, don't you?
You can have your bandage back but it comes off when I say it comes off and don't you forget it. Dinner’s at six. Don't be late.”
And then Negan just… walks away. Closes the door behind him. Leaves Carl sitting there, shaking and crying, trying to breathe, and Carl realizes something.
Nobody’s cut his hair since his mother was alive.
Carl laughs hysterically and then sobs so hard he makes himself sick all over the carpet.
Negan jumps out of the first truck with Lucille in hand and a brilliant smile on his face. He spread his arms like he was about to ask for a fucking hug.
“Rick! If it isn't my best friend on this bitch of an earth!”
“Hi,” Rick said tonelessly. Behind him, Aaron, Michonne and Tara had gathered.
“Why don't you open this gate for us, Ricky boy, and we can be on our way in.”
Rick swallowed thickly and nodded. He stepped back and gestured for Eugene to open the gate wider. The convoy rode in, Negan walking in front of them, right down onto the main street of the neighborhood.
Rick barely heard him as Negan explained some things, about how his people were going to rifle through Alexandria for whatever shit they wanted. At one point Negan handed Rick Lucille and Rick held it despite himself, trying to force himself to stay calm.
He felt- detached. Like he was floating. Time passed, Negan just kept talking, and eventually Rick couldn't take it anymore.
“My son,” Rick said eventually. Negan paused and turned on his heel, eyebrow raised.
“What?”
“My- my son,” Rick croaked. “Where is he? I did- I did what you wanted. Everything you asked. You said you’d… you’d let me…” Negan snapped his fingers.
“Jee-Willikers, Rick, why didn't you remind me? I almost forgot about your boy!” Negan leaned in, eyes glittering.
“But you know, I just want to explain something, Rick. So we’re on the same page. You get to see you boy because I'm going to let you.
You get to live here because I let you. You are still breathing because I let you. So I don't want you to forget your place just ‘cause I'm lettin’ your spawn come home. Clear?
“Crystal,” Rick ground out, still holding Lucille and itching to put it through Negan’s head. But he wouldn't-
couldn't
.
He had to keep everyone safe. He had to keep
Carl
safe. Negan stepped back and motioned to someone in one of the trucks.
The passenger side door opened and Carl, alive and whole, stumbled out onto the gravel.
Carl stood, hands tied together in front of him and Rick just about stopped breathing.
Rick immediately looked for blood, for any obvious wounds. The bruises from last week had faded to sickly shades of yellow-green, but there was a more recent bruise on Carl’s jaw.
The shirt he was wearing was too big for him, shoes and pants the same as he was wearing when Rick last saw him.
His face looked- his expression was intentionally blank, but Rick could sense the unease behind it. It was obvious in the tense line of his shoulders, the way his hands were shaking slightly.
Rick did a double take. His eyes snapped back to Carl’s face. The bandage that Rick was used to seeing around Carl’s face was gone; his eye socket was essentially on display, even more so when Rick noticed that Carl’s bangs had been cut.
The two of them made eye contact and Carl winced, hunching his shoulders a little. Trying to make himself smaller. Rick looked at Negan helplessly and Negan sighed.
“Yeah, yeah, the two of you can go on and have your Hallmark moment, Negan approved.” He took the bat from Rick and as soon as it was out of his hands Rick was running to his son.
They collided, Rick immediately wrapping Carl into a hug as Carl’s knees gave out. They sank to the gravel together. The world narrowed down to a single point.
For a moment, it was as if nothing else existed. Rick buried his face in Carl’s hair, holding onto the back of his shirt like it was a lifeline. As if he needed to assure himself that this was real.
Carl didn't cry, just sat there and shook, completely silent. Rick felt like he was about to burst into tears.
Rick shushed him, rocking them back and forth like Carl was a toddler who’d be soothed by the movement. He pulled back to try and take Carl’s face in his hands but Carl shook him off, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Don't- don't look at me,” he whispered, trying to hide his face in Rick’s shoulder again. “I'm- it's- it's
gross
.” His voice was more fragile than Rick had heard in years.
And there were a thousand things Rick could have said to that. Firstly, Rick had seen shit that was a hell of a lot more gory and disgusting than Carl’s missing eye.
Secondly, Carl was his son, and nothing about him was gross.
But it wasn't about that. It wasn't about that and Rick knew it. Carl had always been disgusted by his eye; even when it was in the early stages of healing, he didn't want Michonne or Rick to see it.
So Negan had narrowed in on this point of insecurity. He’d taken Carl’s bandages off, cut his hair so he couldn't hide behind it, and paraded him through the streets like some kind of fucked up trophy.
Carl had probably had enough of people looking at him for the rest of his life.
“You're not gross,” Rick murmured anyway. He let Carl hide against him.
“A face only a mother could love, am I right?” Negan said, and Rick instinctively pulled Carl closer. Carl shuddered against him and suddenly Rick was so angry he felt like it could kill him.
“You shut your mouth,” Rick snarled before he could stop himself.
“
Watch it
,” Negan hissed, pointing Lucille at him. “I give you your son back and that's how you talk to me? You'll watch your fucking mouth if you know whats good for you.”
Rick swallowed thickly and didn't speak.
“Yeah. That's what I thought. It's that temper that got you both into this mess in the first place and you should fuckin’ remember that.” Negan sighed.
“And here I was, come to tell you that your kid actually behaved himself pretty good. I'm starting to think you're just a bad influence.” Rick bit his tongue to keep from speaking..
“Anyway,” Negan said, “Lesson learned. We’re taking mullet freak over there, by the way, just for some leverage. But you can have your kid back.
For now, anyway. Call me next time he’s annoying the shit out of you and you feel like loaning him out.”
Negan wandered off after that, which was a good thing, because Rick wasn't sure how much longer he could hear the man talk about Carl like an object without losing it.
It was only then that he realized Carl wasn't breathing right, hurried puffs of breath.
“Carl?” Rick said, drawing back a bit.
“I'm fine,” Carl croaked, suddenly all sullen teenager. “I'm
f-fine
.”
“I know,” Rick said. Carl’s eye had bags under it, and Rick couldn't help but wonder when the last time Carl slept was. “I know, Carl.”
“I don't b-belong to him,” Carl whispered, like he was trying to convince himself. Rick wanted to throw up. “I don't- I don't…”
“You don't,” Rick insisted, with the conviction his son couldn't find. “You don't. You don't belong to anybody but yourself, Carl, do you hear me?”
“Yeah,” Carl croaked. “I… can you…” Rick hugged him again wordlessly, letting Carl finally start sobbing into his shoulder and fall apart.
He glanced out over the street. Negan was standing in front of someone’s house, speaking to Michonne. She was probably distracting him, and for that Rick was grateful.
Rick took a deep breath and stared at the man with narrowed eyes.
I'm gonna kill you. Not today, not tomorrow, but I'm gonna kill you.