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"𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭."

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.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

Sunny looked up at Daryl, her eyebrows knitting together as she searched his face. His own brows were furrowed, a shadow of pain in his eyes. She didn't understand—she'd thought they'd all made it out safely, that despite everything, everyone was okay. Right?

"What... what's goin' on?" Her voice cracked, trembling as she looked at him.

Daryl's hands tightened on her shoulders, his gaze dropping as if he was struggling to find the words. He took a shaky breath, trying to keep his own voice steady. "It's... it's alright," he murmured, but the hollow tone betrayed him. "It's... it's alright."

Sunny felt a chill crawl up her spine, confusion clouding her mind. She tore her gaze from Daryl, and her heart sank as she looked around the group. Heads were bowed, shoulders slumped—every single face was etched with grief and defeat. Whatever was happening, it wasn't good.

And then her eyes landed on Rick and Michonne. They were both kneeling beside someone, leaning close, their faces drawn and full of pain. Slowly, Rick moved back, a hand covering his face. And that's when she saw him.

Carl.

He was lying on the ground, his skin sickly pale, his forehead slick with sweat as he groaned in pain. Sunny's breath caught in her throat as she watched him, his hand weakly lifting his shirt to reveal a blood-streaked bandage. With shaky fingers, he peeled the bandage back, and there it was—a bite, red and angry, glaring up at her like a death sentence.

"No..."

A sob tore from Sunny's throat, sharp and raw, as her knees buckled beneath her. She didn't understand. This couldn't be happening. Carl, her brother—her older brother—was lying there, blood seeping through his shirt, the bite unmistakable. Her heart shattered into pieces as guilt and helplessness crashed over her in waves.

No. This isn't fair.

She stumbled forward, her hands trembling as she reached out for Carl, but Daryl's arms were around her, holding her back gently. "Sunny... you gotta stay back," he whispered, his voice thick with pain, but she couldn't hear him. The world had narrowed to just her brother, the one she thought would forever be by her side.

I should've been faster. I should've gotten to him sooner.

Her chest tightened with every breath, the weight of her failure suffocating her. It's my fault. I could've taken them out. I could've—

"Carl," she choked, her voice breaking as she tried to get closer. Her thoughts spiraled into chaos, her heart pounding with panic. "I-I should've been quicker. I should've done somethin'. I... I couldn't protect him. I—"

Tears streamed down her face, and she couldn't stop them. She couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop the feelings of inadequacy crashing in like a tidal wave. Carl was dying, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She couldn't fix this. She couldn't save him.

Daryl's grip tightened around her, his voice soft but firm. "Sunny, don't. This ain't your fault. You did what you could."

But the words didn't reach her. Nothing could fix this. Not when Carl's face was so pale, not when she could see the way his breath hitched as he fought against the pain.

She gripped onto Daryl's shirt, tears falling from her eyes as she watched Carl explain to Rick and Michonne what had happened. How could this happen? How could the world be so cruel?

As Sunny stared at Carl, a memory surfaced, clear and vivid, cutting through the horror around her. It was one of her earliest memories with Lori, the woman's voice soft and kind as she'd tried to reassure her.

"He's getting better, just needs a little more rest," Lori had said, sitting beside Sunny with that warm smile. "I've told Carl all about you. He's really excited to meet you when he's all better."

That day felt like a lifetime ago. Carl had been there since the very beginning—for three whole years. He'd been her first friend, her brother, her anchor through every heartbreak, every close call, every loss. They'd grown up together in this broken world, finding moments of laughter and hope despite the darkness. But now...

Her breath shuddered as she looked back at him, clutching Daryl's arms to keep herself steady. He was supposed to be here forever, she thought desperately, her heart breaking all over again.

"Why'd it have to be him?" she whispered, her voice a fragile, aching thread.

Daryl held the girl tighter, his fingers running through her hair as he tried to offer as much comfort as possible. But realistically, there wasn't a thing he could do. Carl was going to die.

Sunny's chest ached with a bittersweet warmth as she remembered Carl's voice, teasing and playful, echoing in her mind. She could almost see him sitting across from her, rolling his eyes in that exaggerated way he did when he pretended to be fed up.

"You are such a loser," he'd scoffed, struggling to hold back a grin.

"Hey! No I'm not, your fault for bein' dumb," she'd shot back, unable to stop herself from laughing.

"Sunny, you can't choose a smell for I Spy, especially one that isn't even a real word," he argued, clearly frustrated.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Frowsty is a real word, dumbass. And I can see that the prison smells stale, so."

"Do you hear yourself? That makes no sense at all! You suck at this game," he'd huffed, even though she knew he'd keep playing, no matter how many rules she bent.

Carl had always known how to make her laugh, even on the worst days. He'd call her a cheater, swear he'd never play again—but he always did. He was her best friend, the one person who'd always been there, always making her believe that even in this world, there was still room for joy.

Looking at him now, pale and still, a sob ripped through her throat. "Carl..." she whispered, feeling that same laughter turn to unbearable grief.

Oh my god. How had she not realized it sooner?

From the moment of the walker attack, she'd noticed Carl was different—quieter, distant—but she'd never imagined this was the reason. Her mind reeled, each thought harsher than the last, berating herself. Why hadn't she seen it? Why hadn't she reached him faster, done something, anything, to help?

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The letters. They sat buried in her pack, unopened. He'd known he was going to die, had carefully written them, probably pouring out words he wanted each of them to remember. And she'd held them in her hands without understanding, without even thinking...

She choked back another sob, her vision blurring as she looked at Carl lying there, barely conscious. She felt her heart breaking, piece by piece, and guilt twisted within her, a relentless ache. She wanted to run to him, shake him awake, tell him how sorry she was, but she couldn't move—she could only stand there, paralyzed with regret and grief.

Daryl's hand on her shoulder grounded her for a moment, though his grip was shaking too. She looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. "I should have done more. I should've known..."

Daryl's face was pained, and he looked like he wanted to say something to comfort her, but he was just as lost as she was.

Her world had fell apart and there was nothing she could do to make any of it better.

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

The ground trembled beneath her feet as another explosion rocked Alexandria, sending bits of ceiling debris raining down like ash. Each tremor seemed to draw a pained cough from Carl, his fevered body reacting to every shift, every rumble. Sunny's fists clenched as she watched him, feeling a helplessness she couldn't stand.

She took a deep breath, then suddenly pushed away from Daryl, the panic in her eyes shifting to a look of fierce determination.

"Sun? Where ya goin'?" Daryl's voice held a sharp edge as he stood up, ready to follow her.

Without looking back, she moved toward the ladder, her thoughts blazing with one idea: to stop Negan, to end this chaos. She was halfway there when she felt Daryl's strong hand grip her sleeve, holding her back.

"No! Get off'a me!" she snapped, wrenching her arm but finding herself unable to shake him. "I... I gotta make 'im stop, Daryl! It's killin' him! Every explosion, every second... it's hurtin' him!" Her voice cracked, thick with the fear and frustration she'd been holding in. She struggled against his grip, desperate to do something—anything to stop the suffering around her.

Daryl's grip tightened, his gaze filled with worry and sorrow. "Sunny, ya can't go out there. I know ya want to help, but he's not gonna listen to ya—he's got his mind set. Go out there now, an' he'll just drag you back with him."

Her face twisted with helpless anger, and she choked out, "But he's my dad... he's my dad, Daryl. He might listen to me."

Daryl's face softened, his voice quiet but firm. "He ain't gonna stop. He can't hurt Carl anymore than he already has, alright?"

Sunny's resolve wavered, the desperation in her eyes flickering. She turned to look back at Carl, his face pale, his breathing shallow. The weight of her decision crushed her, the feeling of being trapped pressing down on her. She didn't want to back down, didn't want to lose the chance to make her dad stop this destruction. But she couldn't risk leaving Carl, couldn't put herself in Negan's hands again.

She looked up at Daryl, her voice barely a whisper. "What if I can't save him? What if... what if this is it?"

Daryl knelt down to her level, his hand steady on her shoulder. "We're all doin' what we can, Sun. You bein' here... that's what he needs now. Just stay. For him."

With a shaky breath, she nodded, stepping back, feeling her fight slipping into grief and resignation. Her eyes moved to Dwight, her face hardening. Why was he even here? Why was he hiding with them whilst his people destroyed their home?

"You..." Sunny's voice was low and trembling with barely contained rage as she fixed her gaze on Dwight, her hands curling into fists. "You're just... hidin' down here while they destroy everything. While he destroys everything." She took a step forward, her glare fierce and unrelenting. "Why are you here? Why do you get to be safe when they're out there tearin' this place apart?"

Dwight shifted uncomfortably under her stare, but he held his ground, his expression tense and wary. "I'm not with them anymore, alright? I'm tryin' to help you all now."

"Help?" she spat, her voice rising. "By standing here doin' nothing? You think that's helpin' Carl? Any of us?"

She took another step toward him, her body taut with anger, but before she could get any closer, she felt a strong hand grip her arm. She turned to see Rosita, her face calm but firm, her eyes filled with warning.

"It's alright, Sunny." Rosita spoke softly, her eyes sad. She then turned to look around, "you said that hilltop is safe? We need to get everybody there. We can get Carl there."

"Your best chance is to stay here until they're gone," Dwight said. 

"No. They find us here, we're dead." Daryl spoke up.

"They're almost done. They gotta be. It wasn't about destroying the place. They don't have the ammo for that. After they let up, after they're gone, that's when we go." Dwight said.

A moment of silence passed, then Rosita nodded her head. "Okay. We wait," she spoke quietly.

Sunny frowned, once again, Daryl pulled her to his side. She leant her head against his shoulder, watching as Rick and Carl spoke. None of this was fair, none of this was right.

As Sunny sat there, her heart heavy with grief and anger, the memory of Carl's voice drifted into her mind, clear and comforting, like he was right beside her.

"Hey," he'd said that day, gentle, careful not to push too hard. "You remember that time back at the prison, when you and I used to sneak extra food from the supply room?"

She'd kept her eyes down, trying to ignore him, feeling too worn out to engage. "Yeah," she muttered, her voice barely more than a whisper, eyes glued to the dirt between them.

But Carl had never been discouraged when it came to her. He pressed on, like he always did, hoping to draw her out of the shell she'd built up around herself. "Well, you're never gonna believe what I did after... y'know, everything happened with the prison. I found this giant can of chocolate pudding. Like, 112 ounces. Biggest damn thing I'd ever seen."

Even though she hadn't wanted to give in, she could feel her lips twitch at the memory of Carl, that goofy look of pride he'd worn whenever he told this story. But she'd tried to keep her expression blank, not giving him the satisfaction.

Carl didn't care, though. He'd pushed on, undeterred, his grin widening as he added, "I ate the whole thing. All of it. Sat on the roof of some random house and stuffed my face till I thought I was gonna die from a sugar overdose."

Sunny swallowed hard, the memory breaking through her hardened shell. That was Carl—doing whatever he could, even eating himself sick, just to make her smile again. He'd always been there, never once failing to find a way to lighten her darkest moments, even when she didn't want him to.

Now here she was, staring down at him, barely clinging to life, and there was nothing she could do for him.

As more and more time passed, the saviors were finally gone. The plan was for all of them to get to hilltop. But, Rick had said he needed to stay with Carl, Michonne had said she would stay too.

So, that was it? Sunny just had to say bye and know that as soon as she left those sewers, she wouldn't be able to see her brother again? No. How could this be reality?

Sunny's heart felt like it was being ripped from her chest as she watched everyone around her take turns kneeling by Carl, whispering their final goodbyes. Each hushed word, every tear-streaked face, reminded her that this was it. This was goodbye. The realization tightened her throat, and she took a step back, hugging herself as if to shield herself from the crushing truth.

But as Daryl gave her a gentle nudge, urging her forward, she knew she couldn't put it off any longer. She hesitated before finally stepping closer, her knees feeling weak, her breaths shaky. She sank down beside Carl, every part of her fighting the sob that threatened to break free.

He opened his eyes, barely able to focus on her, but he managed a faint smile. "Hey... you're really here."

Sunny nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I'm here."

Carl's voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "Don't cry, okay? I don't... I don't wanna see you sad."

She tried to blink back her tears, her lips trembling as she forced a small smile for him. "I'm not... I'm not gonna cry," she promised, though her voice cracked. "I'm tryin', anyway. Just... get better, okay? It'll all be fine."

Carl gave a weak chuckle, his hand twitching slightly as if he wanted to reach out to her but didn't have the strength. "I don't think I got that kind of time, Sunny..."

She bit her lip, trying to hold herself together, but the look on his face—the acceptance, the peace—broke her heart all over again. "No, don't talk like that. You... you've always been the strong one, the one who knew what to do." She shook her head, looking away for a moment, then forced herself to meet his gaze. "I don't know what to do without you, Carl..."

His tired eyes softened as he looked at her, struggling to find the words. "You... you'll be okay. I know it. You got... a whole life ahead of you. And things will work out... with your dad, with Negan, I'm sure of it."

Sunny's lips trembled. She wanted to believe him, but it was hard to see any kind of future without him there. "Carl, you don't know that. I don't even know that..."

He managed a small, knowing smile, his voice a little stronger, like he was clinging to these last moments with her. "I do know. He loves you... just like I do." His eyes closed for a moment, the pain evident, but he took a slow breath. "I need you to... to look after Judith. Promise me."

Her chest tightened, and she nodded, though she could barely get the words out. "I promise, Carl. I'll look after her... just like you would've."

Carl's lips quirked into a smile, though it was faint, his eyes opening just a crack. "You're a good sister, Sunny. Better than I deserved."

A sob tore through her, despite all her efforts to stay strong. She reached for his hand, gripping it tightly, as if somehow holding on could keep him there. "No, Carl. You... you've always been the best. The best brother. And I don't know how... how any of us are supposed to do this without you."

His gaze drifted slightly, but he gave her hand the slightest squeeze. "You're gonna be okay. Promise me... that you won't lose that spark."

She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand fading. "I'll try. I'll try... for you."

As she opened her eyes, she saw his breathing grow shallower, his grip loosening. She wanted to say more, to tell him how much he meant to her, how much she'd miss him, but all she could manage was a tearful, "I love you, Carl."

He looked at her one last time, his lips moving, barely forming the words, "Love you too, Sunny."

Daryl pulled the girl back, pulling her into his side as she sobbed into him. Carl was dying, and there was nothing any of them could do.

Judith was then placed in front of the boy, Carl managed a small smile. "You be good, okay? For Michonne. For dad. You gotta honor him. Listen when he tells you stuff. Uh, you don't have to always. Sometimes, kids gotta show the way to their parents.

Sunny gripped onto Daryl tighter, wishing she would just wake up and none of this was real. Carl and here were playing hangman, him yelling at her for apparently cheating. But no, they couldn't do that again.

Carl was her brother, she was pretty sure he had became that right back at the farm. He understood her in a way no one else could, he was able to do that, see through people's masks. He was good, too good.

Sunny's mind drifted back to that day, the memory of walking side by side with Carl etched into her heart. She remembered how she had shrugged, glancing down, her voice quieter than usual. "Yeah, maybe. But it's like... sometimes I feel like he understands, and other times it's just like... a game. Like he knows how to keep me on a string or somethin'." She'd taken a deep breath then, pushing away the heavy feeling weighing on her. "Do you... do you think he should die?"

Carl had fallen silent, kicking a loose stone off the side of the road as he thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was careful, hesitant. "No," he'd said, "I don't think he should. But my dad... he thinks that's what has to happen."

Sunny had nodded, biting her lip as she absorbed his answer. She understood why Rick saw things that way, but the idea of Negan's death stirred up a strange, painful ache inside her. "He's done a lot of shitty things. I get why everyone hates him. Why you hate him."

Carl looked at her, his gaze steady but gentle. "I don't know if I even hate him. It's complicated. I mean, yeah, he's hurt people I care about. I want him gone, but... he's still your dad, you know? I think maybe that's why it's different for me."

In that moment, Sunny realized how deeply Carl understood her—how he never judged her feelings, even when they were messy and conflicted. He got it, somehow. He saw her struggle and let her feel the way she needed to, without making her explain or justify. And now, as she knelt by him, that understanding felt like a gift she'd never fully appreciated until it was slipping through her fingers.

Carl weakly lifted his hat, a quiet sigh escaping him. "This was dad's before it was mine. Now it's yours. I don't know... just having it, it always kept him with me. Made me feel as strong as him. It helped me. Maybe it'll help you, too."

With a labored breath, Carl carefully placed the hat on Judith's lap, his body heavy with exhaustion. "Before Mom died... she told me I was going to beat this world. I didn't. But you will. I know you will."

Judith began to cry, and Daryl was quick to scoop her up, holding her close. Sunny watched Carl, tears streaming down her face, struggling to hold herself together for him—how could she?

Lori had believed, so surely, that Carl would survive this world and make it better. And he had tried. He had tried so damn hard. His kindness, his hope, had kept them all going. He'd trusted Gabriel when no one else would, he'd helped Siddiq when they were all against going near strangers.

It broke her heart to see how the cruelty of this world had torn apart something so good. Carl deserved to live—he deserved so much more than any of them, more than this world had ever given him.

Daryl stepped forward, looking down at Carl with a heavy, yet proud expression. "These people... you saved 'em all. That's all you, man," he said, managing a small, sad smile.

Then, one by one, everyone took a moment—giving Carl a final glance, a final smile, a final goodbye. As Daryl moved to grip Sunny's hand, she looked at her brother for the last time, her voice breaking, barely a whisper. "Goodbye, Carl."

"Bye, Sunny. I love you."

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞

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RIP Carl :ccc

You'll forever be remembered and missed <333