A/N: ~Guess who's back... back again...~

Ok, that was dumb, but fitting. I bet anyone still reading this never thought I'd post another chapter after almost 2 years on unofficial hiatus. Firstly, I'd like to apologize for being gone that long. Life is wild though, and somehow I got motivation to write another chapter. It's crazy that I'm posting to a post-Carl world (Btw, I am still livid at Gimple for pulling such a BULLSHIT move). Five years ago, when I started this story (yeah it's been a hot minute since I started this) I would have never have imagined that being a thing unless the show had ended.

Well if you're still following this, or your reading it for the first time bc it popped up as a recently updated fic. I certainly hope you enjoy this chapter. I really put my heart into this chapter, as I didn't want to return with a disappointment. So please, leave a review, tell me what you think. I'm looking for some feedback. Heck, let me know how long you've been following this story and if this chapter lived up to any expectations you might have had. Any ideas for new chapters?

Thank you all again for just being here at this point and reading what I'm throwing up here on the internet. I appreciate all of you and your reviews and even just clicking on this story in the first place.

When our old clothes were returned to us after being cleaned, I pulled my old jacket to my face and I breathed in deeply. The freshness of laundry detergent overwhelmed my nose, almost foreign to me. In a world filled with so many awful smells, the reek of death and decay had become the new norm. Clean smells, like my jacket or my hair fresh out of the shower, have become strange to me. Becoming reaccustomed to clean laundry is something I would have never imagined pre-Turn, but given the world we live in this is one thing that I don't mind adjusting to.

Once I get back to the house, I manage to make it up the stairs to my room. My legs are still weak, and my stomach gurgles, letting me know that dinner could easily be displaced. I rip the dress over my head and kick off my Docs. I change into a t-shirt and a pair of faded, striped pajama bottoms. Without thinking, I find myself digging through Carl's clothes finding my favorite flannel of his before donning it over my shoulders and hugging it tightly to my body. I curl up into a ball on the bed and I stare at the wall, a sense of debilitating emptiness echoing throughout the hollows of my body. Thoughts don't exist in my brain at this moment, time is only a construct that doesn't seem to pass as I gaze into the darkness. It's an eerie existence that I'm not entirely conscious of. All I know is the wall bathed in pale moonlight, the bed beneath my side, and the feeling of Carl's flannel wrapped around my body. Eventually I hear the voices of people returning from the party beginning to fill the house. I begin to have real thoughts again. Among the first of those thoughts is the decision that I won't go down to join them, I'm too ashamed of my actions this evening. The growing sound of footsteps comes up the staircase and then down the hall. I hear the door creak open, but I don't turn over. I clench my jaw, realizing that it had previously been quivering.

"Sam?" Carl's voice is quiet, but worried.

I shut my eyes and try to even my breathing.

His weight eases onto the bed and his hand is gentle on my shoulder. I flinch, "I know you're awake, Sam."

"No I'm not," the words come out more broken than I was expecting.

Carl lets out a slightly amused exhale, but then his voice drops to a more serious tone, "Seriously though, are you ok? I go to throw our stuff away and take a piss and I come back and you've split. What gives?"

"I just didn't feel good," I lie, knowing damn well if I told Carl what actually happened, he'll be too angry to talk down. And frankly, I'm not sure I'd want to. Carl needs to fit in as much here as I do, so I ultimately refrain.

"Bullshit. Tell me what the hell is actually going on, Samantha."

"Don't 'Samantha' me, sir. You're not my father." I tease, turning over to look at him.

"I'll do what I want, thank you very much. And for what it's worth, it accomplished my goal, I can see your pretty face. For real, what happened?" His thumb brushes away the tears that streak down my face. His expression holds so much care and worry, I feel guilty about lying. He deserves to know. I've been holding back too much since we got here. Lying isn't going to fix these problems.

I open my mouth, searching for the right words to describe what happened, but I'm unable to find them. I still haven't fully come to terms with the events myself. I close my mouth and open it again, this process repeats itself over and over until the tears come again.

"Not tonight," I manage to squeak out. I'm sobbing now, air isn't coming easy. Carl moves to hold me, but I stiffen uncomfortably.

"Sam? What's wrong?" he sounds hurt, but with the images of Claimers and Ron barraging my mind, I can't let Carl hold me.

"Not tonight," I repeat myself, feeling guilty for hurting him, "it's not your fault, I promise. I just, I need a little space."

"Do you want me to leave?" the hurt in the voice tinges his words.

I shake my head, instantly reacting, "Please stay, your presence makes me feel safe. I just… need a little room to breathe."

Carl tentatively goes for my hand, "Is this enough room?" he asks, lacing his fingers between mine. I nod, still choking on tears.

"Hey, it's ok. Or it's gonna be ok. Whatever happened it's gonna be alright," The squeeze of his hand reminds me that with him I'm safe. Carl may be the one person on Earth that I can completely trust. But with this, I need to collect myself and then maybe one day I'll be able to tell him the truth.

He holds me for a long time, long past when all the stirring in the house ceases. At some point my tears stop coming, and I start to fall asleep against Carl. In my half-conscious stupor I feel him kiss my forehead, covering me with a blanket. After that I slip into a merciful sleep.

For the next week or so I only left that room to eat, use the bathroom, or take care of Judith. Carl understood that I would tell him what happened when I was able to talk about it, he made sure not to press the issue and he didn't force me to leave the house either. Both of which I was thankful for. I read mostly, stared at the wall some, and tried to block out the images and memories that kept popping up. Carl and I slept regularly in that room now. Some of the group had started to stay in the other house, and everyone else was sleeping in their own rooms. I found myself slipping into a similar state that I had been in while at the prison. In many ways, I wanted to be that girl again. Quiet, shy, out of the way. I didn't have friends then, but I didn't care much. I had my dad then. At that point in my life, the worst thing that had happened to me was the loss of my mother and brother to that murderer the Governor. But too much had happened for me to still be her. I was a broken version of her, yet somehow I was simultaneously stronger than her. That girl would've handled these new people differently than me, but I know deep down that this is only version of me that's going to survive these people.

Most nights have not been as peaceful as the one the night of the party. Even with Carl next to me, I hardly sleep. Every time I shut my eyes a barrage of evil men attack me in mynightmares. I thought I had gotten past the Claimers and what they tried to take, but now, Ron joins them and I wake up shaking with tears streaming down my face. Most nights I inadvertently disturb Carl from his sleep. When I do, he'll hold my hand, or scratch my back until he falls back asleep, because I can't. The night has never been a friend of mine, and now is no exception.

Last night was more of the same. I probably woke up from a nightmare in the middle of the night, roughly around 4 am if I had to guess, and I'm been awake since. I'm still sitting at the kitchen table after breakfast, trying to read one of the books Deanna let me borrow, but given the fact that I've been awake for so long, focusing is difficult. Carol is in the kitchen working on the dishes, while Michonne and Rick are finishing up their meal. Noah passes through the kitchen on his way out. He is among those who have really begun to settle in, quickly creating a bond with Reg, Deanna's husband.

"What exactly are you up to?" I ask Noah, noticing how much lighter he seems. His eyes are practically glowing with excitement. Despite losing Beth and coming to terms with his family's death, he's managed to keep it pretty light, making us smile in some of our darkest times. He manages to keep most of his grief to himself. Still, I've never seen him with so much light in his eyes.

He shrugs half-heartedly, "It's nothing," but there's a smirk on his face as he darts out before I can pry further.

I go back to my book for a bit, before being interrupted by Michonne, "You know, Noah mentioned to me that Aaron suggested he go visit the doctor in town to fix his ankle. Maybe he could help you with your hip too?"

I remember Olivia bringing up this guy. Jessie's husband, Ron's father. Uneasiness creeps into my blood. Michonne doesn't know, I have to remind myself. No one knows.

"I don't know… I mean nothing comes without a price, and ya know at this point I'm basically used to the limp," I try brushing it off as nonchalantly as I can. My eyes flit back and forth between Rick and Michonne, trying to gauge their level of suspicion. Rick hardly acts like he heard me; his eyes seem far away. Unlike Noah, Rick is struggling to settle in with the new community. Arguably he's still doing a lot better than I am, but still struggling all the same.

Michonne on the other hand, detects something off about me, her brow furrows and she presses further, "Are you sure? It'll give you an opportunity to get out of the house."

Carol pipes up, "If you're not comfortable going alone Sam, I'm happy to go with you. If whatever it would take is super unreasonable for us, then we don't have to continue. But it can't hurt to stop by and ask. I'm free after I wrap it up here and we can head over to see if Pete has a moment."

Carol's tone changes the conversation. At that moment it stops being a proposal and starts being a requirement. I let out a sigh and give in. Nothing bad can happen to me as long as Carol is there. As weird as she's been acting, she's as close to a mother figure as I have. I know she would do whatever she could to protect me.

"Ok, I'll get ready I guess." I close my book and head upstairs.

I brush my teeth and shrug on my oversized flannel over a tan sweater and then the new jacket. Virginia winters are more intense than Georgia ones. Every passing day gets colder than the last, it's good we found this place when we did, Judy wouldn't have survived the winter out there. After donning my Docs and beanie, I head back downstairs. Rick and Michonne have left when I return, Carol puts away the last pan and then grabs a burgundy wool coat from a coat rack and throws it over her light blue cardigan. A floral button up beneath it. She ties the coat at her waist and looks to me to confirm I'm ready to leave. Her new style is confusing and seems so unlike the woman I knew, but I try not to let it show.

We head down the street, and I keep my fingers crossed in my pockets that we don't run into trouble. Carol must pick up on my stiffness and she scans me over briefly before asking, "How are you settling in? I know you don't get out much, but have you met any of the other kids? There's several your age here."

"I think I started on the wrong foot at that party," I confess vaguely

Carol nods and replies slowly, calculating her words, "I knew you left in a hurry, but I wasn't sure why. Do you want to tell me why?"

I shake my head, "These people are just so different from us, and I'm having a hard time blending in, I guess. I'll get there eventually, but for now I'm ok just taking it slow."

Carol reaches over and rubs my shoulder, "Ok, but don't shut all of them out. This is our new home and we have to live with them. You don't have to love them, you just have to be able to blend in."

We've arrived at Jessie's house and Carol knocks on the door for me. After a few moments, the door opens. Ron. My body tenses and I fight to look him dead in the eyes.

"Is your dad home, hon?" Carol asks sweetly, even her voice is different with these people.

Ron looks at me, a malicious gleam in his eye, "Uh yeah, why don't you guys come in? I'll go get him." He opens the door allowing us inside, his eyes linger on my body. I knew this was a bad idea. I stay close to Carol and we take a seat on their couch. Carol pats my knee, I realize that she's noticed my heightened discomfort. Ron has disappeared out of sight.

Carol leans next to my ear and whispers, "Is everything ok?"

I shake my head, dismissing her again, "Yeah, everything's fine," a fat lump sits in my throat, and my arms are tensed, trying to keep myself from shaking. Carol clearly doesn't buy it, but Ron comes back with his dad, so she drops it.

Pete claps his hands, rubbing them together, "How are y'all today, in case you didn't know my name is Pete. How can I help you two?"

Carol introduces us, "I'm Carol, and this is Sam."

"I have a son named Sam, nice to meet you two," Pete smiles warmly

"It's Ron right?" Carol turns and looks straight at Pete's son, "Could you let us talk alone please? This is a confidential medical issue." Her tone on the surface sounds almost sunshine-y and like a request, but the underlying tone is a command, not allowing her to be challenged. Ron glares at me for a second too long, before heading up the stairs wordlessly.

"It's my hip," I explain, hoping that this Pete is a better man than his son, "I was hit by a car a couple months ago. I broke some ribs, and badly bruised my hip. My ribs hardly hurt anymore, but I've developed a permanent limp. We've been on the run basically since it's happened, so it's never properly healed."

Pete nods, "Were you at least on pain medication out there?"

"Not for a while at least," I shake my head.

"Are you still in pain?" He asks

I shrug it off, "I mean pain is relative."

"Would you mind if I took a look real quick?" he asked. My stomach turns, his tone shifted from friendly doctor, to something almost malicious lingering beneath the surface.

"I mean, the coloring of the bruising has mostly faded," I say nervously. I know he's a doctor, but I'm not exactly comfortable being here in the first place. I look over at Carol and she's suspicious too.

"Pete," Carol says with that pseudo-sweetness, "do you have any suggestions for how she can fix her limp? We're just looking for options so Sam here can better fit in with her peers?"

Pete seems bothered that his authority has been challenged, his tone is more snippy now, "Well, there are some exercises you can practice to correct your gait. I'll write some down for you, and if it doesn't start improving, you can come back and we'll look into more serious measures." He pulls out a notepad and begins writing.

I watch Carol, a calculating look her eye before she speaks up again, "Pete, is Jessie here? I figured out this new recipe for sweet potato casserole that substitutes sweet potatoes with canned pumpkin and I thought Jessie would enjoy it."

Pete jerks his head up, more irritated, "Now isn't really a good time for her, and I have other things to do, please leave." He tears off the sheet of paper and hands it to me, urging us out of the house. Carol tries to protest, but the friendly façade Pete had previously has disappeared, and a more aggressive exterior has pushed through.

We walk quickly back to the house, Carol is clearly distraught. We walk back in silence, but once we're in the safety of the house she turns to me, "What did that boy do to you? Did he hurt you?" There's no sweetness to her words now, just insistence.

"No," I shake my head quickly, "I mean he tried. But I ran before he could." I blurt it out before I realize what I've done.

Carol's eyes grow, maybe she's surprised I told the truth, or maybe the truth is what surprised her. She clenches her jaw and shakes her head, "There's something weird going on with that family. I'm sorry that happened to you and I wish you told me before I made you go there." She gently touches my upper arm, and I can't look her in the eye.

"I keep messing up here, I'm sorry, Carol. I don't want to ruin things for us. I either threaten them or they threaten me. I can survive out there, but in here it's so different," I start to break down, feeling weak and disgusted with myself.

Carol wraps me in a hug, "You're not the only one struggling Sam. Just know you're not alone in this. Don't go weak though, you are stronger than these people. You've been through so much and you've grown up so quickly in ways that those kids can't understand."

"I won't," I promise her, tears slip down my cheeks.

Carol releases me, wiping a tear from my cheek, giving me a sad smile, "Go on and wash your face, strong girl. I have chores I need to get to."

"Please don't tell anyone," I try not to sound too desperate, "I don't want to make a big deal out of this."

Carol promises she won't, and I head upstairs. I head up to the unfinished room where I met Enid a few weeks ago. I try picking up my book, but my brain feels flooded. Like the dam on my thoughts has broken and I'm struggling to stay afloat. My skin crawls as I recall the look in Ron's eyes as he stared at me. The what-ifs I constantly fight off meet no resistance now. What if I had gone alone? What if Ron had overpowered me that night at the party? What if Ron breaks into our home? After all, Enid said Ron, her, and some others used to hang out in the very room I'm sitting in.

My stomach churns anxiously and breakfast threatens to make a reappearance. The roar of crashing waves that are my thoughts drives me to push my palms to my temples. I pull my knees tight to my chest, trying to make my existence as small as possible. All I want is to curl up so small I snap out of existence, even if just for a moment. My chest physically hurts, breathing is both happening all too fast and as though I cannot breathe at all.

"Sam?"

I don't know how long I'm trapped in my head, but Carl calling my name brings me back. His hand rests on my back and I lift my head, realizing my cheeks are soaked in tears. I'm sure I must look like a mess right about now. He sits down next to me, and I notice the blood on his knuckles, and I feel like I'm snapped out of whatever mental breakdown I just had.

"What happened to you?" I grab his hand

"Why didn't you tell me about Ron?" he asks, not mad. Or at least not at me.

My mouth hangs open for a moment, trying to figure out how to put words together, "I… I don't know. For a while I was just trying to process it and handle it. I just feel like everything I've done since we got to Alexandria has just been stupid and destructive. I don't feel like myself anymore. I didn't even know what to say Carl," I drop my head, shaking it. It feels like my neck doesn't have the strength to hold my head up anymore. I'm crying again and I feel so worthless in this moment. In a world full of hopelessness, only I would suffer from safe conditions, with teenagers and drama.

"Can I hold you?" Carl asks softly. For the first time since the party, I nod. I crave the safety of Carl's arms and he delivers. I rest my head on his chest as he holds me tightly against him, "I was in his room today, a couple of other guys too. We were just hanging out, they invited me to play video games with them. Ron went downstairs to answer the door and when he came up and started talking about this girl downstairs that he almost 'got with' at the party the other night. But he mentioned something about this girl being 'lame' the other night, but that girls 'never say no to him' and that he'd 'get her in the end.' The longer he described this girl, and he did go on for a while, I knew it was you. He said she 'put up a fight' and after hearing a pretty gross description I was certain. Once it clicked, I might have punched him in the face, threatened him, and walked out."

I blink in astonishment, "Might have?" The tiniest of smirks forms on my face.

Carl winces, but there's a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "Definitely did. Piece of shit deserved it. He has a girlfriend too, that creep. At least that what Mikey was saying. I really wish you'd have said something before, but I get you have reasons. But he shouldn't bother you anymore, and if he does, I'll kill that asshole."

"I really should have told you sooner, I'm sorry Carl," I bite my lower lip. The guilt of not telling him sooner weighing on my chest. But the bliss of relief, knowing that I've cleared the air completely now is too sweet for the guilt to overcome. My dirty laundry has really gotten a track record for stinking up the place, and I just hope it stops soon. Carl holds me for a while longer, stroking my hair, almost rocking me back and forth. At this point Carl and I have been through so much shit together, taking care of each other, protecting each other, I'm not sure what I'd do if I hadn't met him. I vow to myself to avoid keeping things from Carl, no matter how painful. He loves me more than any other living being, and he deserves some real credit for that. I have no doubt if Ron bothered me again, Carl would beat the crap out of that guy.

The sun is low in the sky when we finally leave the unfinished room. We make our way down the stairs and I'm surprised no one has called us down for dinner. At the bottom of the stairs we arrive at a scene I could have never expected. Glenn, crying on our couch. Maggie holding him and Michonne and Rick listening as Glenn recounts the tale of Noah's death and Tara's near fatal injury.

I look at Carl, and he bites his lip. No one is as safe as we thought, I guess. Even with a community to live in, going on runs doesn't mean you'll come back. I'm reminded of a scene far too familiar when I was told my own father didn't make it back from his run. Carl squeezes my hand, pulling me back to reality.

I hear Maggie's voice now, I can't look up from my feet and more tears are slipping from my cheeks, "Father Gabriel, he can't be trusted. He's on the side of whoever can keep him safest. And apparently that's not us anymore."

Huh, guess I'm not the only one with dirty laundry.