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M E G A N

It's been three thousand, four hundred and thirty three days, give or take, since that day in the woods. The day that changed everything. That's nearly nine and a half years, in which every single day of, I've thought of him.

Counting the days is how I cope. It's silly, but it keeps time connected, like although my existence has almost completely changed, I used to—at one point, in time—be in love, and that's all that matters. The simple pleasure that I was ever even given that chance.

At first it was consuming.

My days and nights were filled with the grief, sadness, and mourning of my other half. Then it eventually became easier, a few years after I relocated to Hilltop.

I'd spent most of my life bouncing around from place to place. What started as the common pattern of the relocation of a foster child, spiraled into a lifelong struggle, which led to me leaving Alexandria, the only home I'd ever truly known. But I needed to be somewhere new, where I wasn't constantly bombarded with memories and reminders of what I'd lost.

After a while, the thoughts that used to constrict me eventually dwindled into unexpected moments, in which I'd be caught off guard with my own reminiscing, once or twice a day. Although I haven't skipped a single day in my remembrance of the boy, it's been an uphill battle to get to where I am, right now.

"I stand before you today, at the start of a new tomorrow!" King Ezekiel's gruff, distinguished voice projects, as the man towers over a crowd of several different communities of people. The balcony that overlooks the theater is where he stands, to make his speech.

It's taken quite some time, but he finally managed to bring these groups of people together, to a celebration at the Kingdom. Most of us have laughed at his efforts, but—as I stand within the sea of people—I've got to hand it to the man.

"A tomorrow made possible by the sacrifices of many over the years."

Although quite theatrical, his corny words do, somehow, take a toll on my emotions. A sentimental feeling that I have to quickly stifle down, due to the crowd of people around me.

After however many years, we are all lucky to be standing here, today. I am quite lucky. Others—not quite as much. Others that would've loved to have been standing here, enjoying this moment, right next to me.

"Among them, a man whose mission was to build community, and strengthen the bonds between us. A man who had to destroy the very thing that connected us, in order to save us." The King references the infamous explosion of the old bridge.

The sacrifice that he speaks of, on this day, is the unforgettable way that Rick Grimes went out. Many years ago, the man saved us all from an approaching horde, at the cost of his own life. That day has now become engrained in nearly everything that we do.

Although it might be nearly a decade ago, it seems like just yesterday that I saved him from what almost happened that day at the start of the prison. The day that everything changed between myself and the group I've grown to know and love. And then once again, the day that Alexandria almost met its end—when the walkers from the quarry got inside the walls; the second time I was responsible for saving the somewhat infamous man.

"It took us far too long to fulfill the promise of what Rick Grimes and his son Carl envisioned." The King continues.

A small smile makes its way across my pursed lips. Although his name courses through my head every single passing day, it's a new relief hearing someone else say it out loud, after all this time. Especially in front of five communities of people. This is exactly what the boy'd want—an elevated remembrance.

I feel a hand slowly slip into mine. My eyes drift downward.

Enid.

The two of us managed to find each other in the crowd, shortly before the speech. A monumental moment that we are going to always want to remember being together for. She stands between me and Alden; her new, unofficial boyfriend. And, coincidentally, he is always the subject of my teasing towards her.

After all this time, I'm quite happy for my best friend and her blossoming love life. Which, the woman has always managed to convince herself was a dead end, after the death of Ron Anderson. In response to her pessimism, I think that I remember telling her to hold out hope. And, sure enough, a little time is all that it took to send her straight into Alden's arms.

As if it's come full circle, I now realize why Enid used to be so invested in my old love life; because she wanted me to be happy, the same way that I want her to be, now.

I lift my eyes from our intertwined fingers, up to her face, which waits for me with a reassuring smile. The act of comfort much needed after the mentioning of his name. Enid then separates our fingers and wraps her arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer and leaning her head on the side of mine.

"The same promise Paul Rovia—better known to most as Jesus—believed in when he brought us all together those many years ago."

I remember Jesus.

The reasonable man who was able to fill Maggie's shoes after she decided to leave the Hilltop. Since his unexpected funeral, I remember him, too, every passing day. His presence in my life was the beginning of a bigger world. New communities, new people, new resources. He is one of the reasons that the King has us all standing here, today.

"We've always been bound to each other." The King opens his arms wide, gesturing above the crowd. "We always will be."

My eyes wander around the crowd, my neck craning from underneath Enid's arm. I manage to find several familiar faces, every single one being a good sight to see.

That is, until my eyes land on Siddiq. The man looks up to the platform containing the King, having no idea of my intense stare on him.

Over the years, Enid and I have worked in very close quarters with him, since we all fell in pattern with the same career path. His purpose, as declared by the boy who nonetheless died for him, proved itself worthy, whether I care to admit it or not.

"We fought our way back to each other. We have grown. The crossing over the river may be gone. But we have rebuilt a bridge, nonetheless." The King continues.

The crowd around us begins to clap, but Enid and I stay trapped within each other's embrace. It seems as if our entire lives have been building up to this one, happy moment. In a way, that is what makes it all kind of bittersweet.

"Today is proof that we can unite," The King starts. "Not against a common enemy—but for the common good."

It's a dark, twisty path remembering what first brought the communities together—our old, common enemy. Or rather, who. Someone I don't like to remember. The same someone whose current imprisonment at Alexandria is the reason why I chose to relocate to the Hilltop many years ago. All due to the detrimental decision to hold the man hostage, made by Rick and Michonne.

"So eat, drink, trade, and be merry." King Ezekiel remarks. "Because we got a lot of lost time to make up for." The crowd stifles a few laughs and murmurs at the Kings profound words.

Jerry then hops in front of the crowd, just below the balcony where the King stands. "Let the First Annual Inter-Community Reunification Fair begin!"

"Jerry," The King starts. "We changed that."

"For reals?" Jerry asks. "F. A. I. R. Fair—"

"It's too many—" The King cuts himself off, the banter being too long-winded for the patience of the crowd. "Never mind."

Amidst my reminiscing, a chuckle makes its way to the surface. Enid laughs, as well, still holding me in her thin arms.

Doves are sent flying into the sky, spiraling around as they soar away. A chorus of instrumental music sounds out, in sync with the King's glorious words.

"Let the Fair of New Beginning, begin!"

☆

After the opening of the gates, several reunions happen around me. A result of the arrival of a carriage filled with people from Alexandria—the most estranged of all the communities.

My eyes involuntarily stare down Michonne, as she climbs down from the carriage, adjusting to how much she's changed since we've last seen each other. The curiosity gets the better of me as the woman has been the most alienated from any involvement with the Hilltop.

"Aunt Meg!"

Something pulls my focus from the woman.

The little girl—the one who I haven't seen since my residence at Alexandria—quickly catches my attention, at the unique nickname. The name I used to hate, but quickly made an exception for the second I first heard it come out of her mouth.

I spin around, seeing the familiar sheriff's hat bouncing up and down as she runs towards me.

My voice hitches in my throat, as I fold my lips inward, fighting back the same pinging feeling in my gut that I have been for the past nine years. For a moment, I remember what that the chipped leather used to mean to me, and how I used to feel when I managed to spot it in a crowd.

Now—several years later—the familiar, aged material brings a different kind of joy into my life. Yet, it somehow kind of feels all but the same.

"Hey, Jude!" I start. The little girl runs into my arms. A smile across her freckled face. Her familiar eyes gleaming in the underglow of the cloudy day. My arms wrap around her, as well as the duffel that dangles across her back, nearly out-sizing her. "I'm surprised that you even remember me." I give her one last gentle squeeze.

"I've been drawing pictures of you ever since I was little." The girl pulls back from our hug. "I heard that you used to be pretty popular, back at home."

Home.

The girl comes here from a community that I no longer have association with, due to every memory that the insides of those walls has to offer me. Whatever history I'd been apart of, in the town of Alexandria, has been—to my best efforts—ignored, for the sake of my own happiness. And in no way would I want to call somewhere that contains the fallen man without his bat, my home.

I still stifle a chuckle, a wide smile pulling at the corners of my lips as I remain crouched down, eye level with the little girl who seems to have grown up, all at once.

"Your hair got really long." The girl giggles.

The corners of her lips crinkle, with her laugh. Her childlike plush cheeks and scattered freckles move along with the crest of her smile. Her expression rewards me, similar to the way that it used to, when I'd managed to earn a giggle from the small toddler. But now that she's all big and grown up, her facial features have become more reflective of her older brother's.

"Yeah," I giggle, grabbing a fistful of my own hair and looking down at it. "It d—"

"The plan was to bring Henry." Tara steps forward, from behind us. Her stare stays locked on Michonne, the woman responsible for whomever just entered through the Kingdom's front gates. The words cut through mine and Judith's moment, a result of the woman's tone being quite a change from everyone else's. "Just Henry."

Tara was appointed to look after Hilltop alongside Jesus, and was left to her own devices after his recent death, caused by the whisperers. I tried to step in to help as often as I could, but the whole thing somewhat hardened the happy-go-lucky woman.

Before I trace Tara's gaze, I stand tall, straightening my legs and stepping behind Judith. My hands drape around the girl's shoulders, as we observe the conversation before us. The woman looks over at Lydia, with a spiteful glance, as the girl climbs out of Alexandria's carriage.

I understand where Tara comes from with her disdain towards the girl—I really do. Her people are responsible for Jesus' death, as well as everything that's gone on with Henry for the past week or so. But nothing changes the fact that I was once her.

I was once Lydia.

I was once the new girl, whose default group caused death. The young prisoner who'd quickly gotten in close with the group's own young boy, and decided to run away with him, before slowly making their way back home.

Once upon a time, that was me.

I stand tall, my comforting hands on the dainty shoulders of the little girl who now calls me aunt. The same little girl whose brother I'd ran away with all those many years ago. I stare over at Lydia and Henry, as if trying to take a glance into my own past.

"Gather up all the leaders." Michonne says.

The woman's foreign presence in the group of people is something I'd—so far—chosen to not to acknlowedge. I haven't dared to speak to her, ever since she and Rick made their decision, unknowingly drawing the line in the sand, between us.

I understood why the couple did what they did, on that day. Why they saved the man, so many years ago. But that never meant that I had to like it. And it did not mean that I was going to stick around Alexandria.

Michonne waits for everybody's reluctant gaze, as we all take a moment to exchange glances amongst each other. "We have a lot to talk about."

Once people begin to move their feet, I squeeze the girl's shoulders before removing my hands from them. I offer the little girl a glance beneath my playfully raised eyebrows, just before I step away and begin to follow after everyone.

However, something pulls at my wrist. "Hey, Aunt Meg?"

I look down to see Judith. The girl looks nervously up at me, pondering something that hovers on the tip of her tongue. I kneel down, once again, and give the girl my full attention. "What, honey?"

"My mom told me that you know sign language." She folds in her pink lips, before flashing me a gap-toothed smile. "And I was wondering if you could teach me a little, so that I can try to talk to Connie."

Had it not been for the lack of people who know how to communicate with Connie, I may not have even looked at the woman twice. But, after getting to know her for a few days I actually became quite comfortable with her, as well as Alexandria's decision to bring her and her people to Hilltop. That group's presence, in our community, is the result of Judith sticking to her family's roots, and saving a few strangers, all on a whim.

I look from Judith, to the group of adults that slowly make their way towards the theater. For a moment, I weigh the stakes of whatever meeting that the girl's mother holds, against the value of spending a few moments with a child I haven't seen in so long. My decision is not an easy one to make.

However, as I switch my gaze back to the little girl, her familiar freckles and her beaming eyes seem to take the choice away from me. "Sure, Jude."

"No way," The girl giggles. "Awesome! Thank you, Aunt Meg!"

I sigh, allowing a smile to wash over my face as I watch the adults enter the theater, and aim to consult on a community decision, without me. "Anytime."

My eyes land on a picnic table, nearby, and I make my way towards it, expecting the girl to follow after me. But as my footsteps make their way long the pavement, I don't hear any behind me.

Slowly looking over my shoulder, Judith stands in the same spot, her head whipping around as her eyes search for something. "What is it, Jude?"

"Can we go somewhere more private?" She starts, continuing to glance around us. "It's just—I learn better in the quiet."

Offering her a nod, I sharply sigh, ready to give the little girl whatever she demands of me. "Totally."

After closing the gap between us, I rest one hand on Judith's shoulder, before leading her through the crowds of people that set up their trade-stations at the fair. The girl's giant duffel bounces up and down, every time she places a determined step.

It doesn't take us long to get inside of a vacant house, one of which I know isn't occupied, as Enid, Alden and I roomed here, last night. The sound of the crowds of people is slowly drowned out, the second I allow the front door to swing to a close.

"Alright," I remove my hand from her shoulder, as we both step foot in an unoccupied living room. "Where should we start? The alphabet? Name s—"

"Aunt Meg?" The girl hesitantly starts.

I turn around, from my glance at the empty living room, as the girl removes her duffel, moving the strap up and over her large hat, and places it on the floor. "Yeah?"

She nervously folds in her lips, her eyes beaming up at me. Her hand motions to the duffel on the floor. "Can I show you something first?"

After my eyes drop from the girl's haphazardly pointed finger, I realize that the bag on the floor, is mine. It's the same one I used to hide medicine saviors, the same one that I lugged around for two days, and the same one that I left inside the that dirty oak tree, with her older brother.

My eyes trail from the duffel, up towards the girl who nervously awaits my gaze. "You didn't really need me to teach you sign language." Although I mean to ask it as a question, the certainty and panic caused by the sight of my duffel leaves not much else to be of reason.

"I found a bunch of your old stuff, in one of the houses." She uses her foot to nudge the bag towards me. "I thought you might like to have it back."

My eyebrows furrow, before I grab the strap of the bag and begin dragging it along the floor. I find a place to sit, along the window sill, and my hands curiously unzip the bag.

The first, familiar item lies on top of a few items of my old clothing, and other trinkets from Alexandria.

A dirty, folded, crinkled piece of paper.

The letter.

His letter.

The one he wrote to me when he realized he wasn't going to make it. The one holding the words that he wanted to tell me, himself. The words he didn't want me to have to read. The words he never got to tell me after I selfishly left him inside of that tree. The words that I never let my guilty self read, knowing that I'd robbed the boy of getting the chance to tell them to me, himself.

"I—I," I try to start, my mouth continuing to gape, not noticing the building tears in my eyes.

"There's more." Judith mutters, nodding her head toward the bag, on the floor.

The stun of the dirt-littered piece of paper was enough to keep me from exploring the contents of the bag. Hesitantly, I allow my fingers to grasp it, and remove it from covering the item that lies beneath it.

Deanna's camera.

I instantly recognize the cam-corder. It was the same one that she'd used to record our interviews the day that the boy and I first arrived at Alexandria. A fossil—a time capsule—of ancient history, held within my palm.

"Did you—" I start, choking back tears. "Did you see it?" I ask Judith.

"Yeah. It took me a few weeks to find the right batteries." She starts, with a shy shrug. "Before I watched the tapes, I could never imagine Carl having two eyes." Judith adds.

My breath hitches in my throat. The girl's words sending a thick gulp down it. A lightheaded feeling washes over me, and my face softens under her gaze. I lift a hand to my mouth, knowing that I now have one, last piece of her brother. A way to reinforce the distorted image of him that's slowly been fading away, to the dark corners of my memory.

"I'll leave you be, so you can watch it." The little girl notices my building tears, placing a tiny hand on my back.

She then turns around, beginning to walk away. My eyes tear from the camcorder in my hand, and all I can see is the back of her familiar hat.

"Actually—Jude?" I call after her.

She turns back around. "Yeah, Aunt Meg?"

"Can you stay?" I ask through my building tears, forcefully pulling my lips into a short grin. "Watch it with me?"

"Of course." Her high-pitched voice says.

The girl then returns to my side, by the window sill. She places an arm around my back and leans her small head on my shoulder, her hat draping behind my head, knocking into my hair, a little. But I don't mind. Not one bit.

My fingers fumble with the camcorder in my hands, before I'm able to find the small viewfinder and flip it outward. I find and press the on button, causing a small, animatronic noise to sound out, as the dull, black screen turns into a pixelated, frozen image.

An image of the young Carl Grimes, from the first day that we ever stepped foot in Alexandria.

"You ready, Aunt Meg?" The little girl asks me.

"Yeah, Jude." I mutter. My finger finds the button with the small, sideways triangle on it, pausing for just a moment before I ready my thumb to press play.

"I am ready."

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3747 words

A/N

I've been planning these post-death chapters for so long omg. I've had the rough draft of this one written since February when I was still publishing season 6 (it's now july)

I just think that I owe Megan a proper epilogue type deal even after Carl is gone :,( + this is the reason why I went back and changed it to where her old foster sister was deaf, JUST FOR THIS MOMENT AND IT WASNT EVEN A BIG ONE + and the reason that carl took the camera from Negan's box and hid it in the infirmary with Megan hehe

also... what if I told you guys that the next chapter was in Carl's perspective... :o

ANYWAYS I literally love u guys so much like I have such active supporters both on here and on my tiktok and NOTHING feels better than uploading a fresh new chapter, knowing that people actually are being entertained

soo.... I'm going on vacation in a few days and I might delete the wattpad app for a week just so that my family doesn't catch me slipping and I don't get exposed.

and it would be a complete SHAME to come back to a bunch of notifs and comments and votes ;))))

okay bye, also I have no idea when the next chapter will be out, but I'm planning on this book being completely done by the end of august !!

☆vote bc Megan is finally reading the letter and watching the tape omfg :pp ☆