Threads of Fate Across Universes

The group continued on. Sophia hadn't gotten involved in the fight—she had been at the back with Carol, who had tried to cover her eyes but hadn't done it properly. Through the gaps in Carol's fingers, Sophia had seen enough. She understood what had happened. She stayed silent for a moment, then finally spoke.

"I don't want to be weak anymore."

Sophia sat on a log, staring at the dried blood on her hands. Her fingers clenched.

Elio glanced at her. "You're not weak, kid."

"I was," she shot back. "I saw everything. I just stood there. If you and Shane weren't here, we'd be dead." She looked up, determination hardening her features. "Teach me."

Shane exchanged a glance with Elio before crouching in front of her. "You sure about this, kid? This ain't just swingin' sticks around for fun. Once you start, you don't stop."

Sophia nodded. "I want to fight."

Elio let out a slow breath. He remembered this moment in the show—the Sophia who never made it. This Sophia was different.

"Alright." He stood, twirling his axe before planting it in the dirt. "Then let's start."

Training in the Woods

They didn't move on right away. Instead, they set up camp in the woods, about two hours from the farm. They needed time—time to recover, time to get stronger. Time to make sure they wouldn't be caught off guard again.

Elio and Shane led the training.

It started with endurance. Running drills, sprints, and carrying weighted packs through uneven terrain. Sophia pushed herself harder than anyone, panting as she ran through the trees, her legs burning but her determination unshaken. Carol followed along, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but she didn't stop either.

Then came balance and agility. Elio had them step onto fallen logs, forcing them to move while maintaining their footing. He shoved them, making them adjust to sudden impacts. "You don't just stand still in a fight," he explained. "You move, or you die."

Sophia listened. Carol hesitated. She knew she was strong in other ways—keeping people together, keeping them alive. But fighting? That was new.

Then came weapons. Sophia started with a knife, gripping it too tight at first, her swings wide and predictable. Elio corrected her stance, teaching her to keep her movements small, precise.

Carol, however, struggled. She hated the feel of the knife in her hands, hated the weight of it, the way it made everything too real.

"You okay?" Elio asked as she hesitated, her grip faltering.

Carol exhaled sharply, nodding. "Just… never thought I'd have to do this."

"You don't have to," Elio said.

Carol glanced at Sophia, who was still swinging, still pushing forward. "Yeah. I do."

And so, she kept going.

Elio and Carol's Conversation

The bruises came. The soreness in their muscles was constant. But progress showed.

One evening, as the fire crackled low, Carol sat with Elio, rubbing her sore hands.

"I still don't like it," she admitted.

Elio raised a brow. "Then why are you still here?"

Carol watched Sophia across the fire, the girl sharpening her knife with quiet focus. She had changed in just a few days—stronger, more certain.

"She's why," Carol murmured. "I've spent so long trying to protect her. Trying to keep her away from all this." She shook her head. "But maybe I've been doing it wrong."

Elio studied her for a moment before nodding. "Maybe." He poked at the fire with a stick. "You're not weak, Carol. You never were."

Carol scoffed. "Tell that to the woman I used to be."

Elio leaned forward. "That woman got you this far. And now? You're still here. Still fighting. That counts."

Carol didn't answer right away. She just looked at Sophia again.

"She's gonna be okay," Elio added.

Carol exhaled. "She has to be."

Preparing to Leave

The next morning, Shane and Elio packed up their gear.

"You're really gonna go through with this?" Carol asked as she adjusted the strap on her pack.

"We have to," Elio replied. "We need food. Medicine. A place to rest."

Shane scoffed. "Ain't like that farm's a damn fortress."

"No," Elio admitted. "But it's something."

Sophia looked between them. "Can I come?"

Shane shook his head. "Not this time, kid. You and Carol stay here. Keep trainin'. We'll come back."

Carol didn't argue. Maybe a few days ago, she would have, but now? She trusted them.

As they walked, Shane adjusted the rifle strap on his shoulder and let out a breath. "Alright, genius. What happens next?"

Elio didn't answer right away. He could feel Shane's eyes on him, waiting. This had become routine—Shane testing him, trying to figure out how much of the world was still following the script and how much had already changed.

Elio glanced at him. "Hershel won't want us to stay. He thinks the farm is untouched, that it doesn't have to be part of all this."

Shane scoffed. "Oh, great. Another 'we can rebuild society' type."

"Something like that," Elio muttered.

Shane walked in silence for a few beats, kicking a loose rock off the path. Then, his voice dropped lower. "That ambush back there… that wasn't in your show, was it?"

Elio shook his head. "No."

Shane exhaled sharply. "Thought so. 'Cause I was thinkin'—maybe this world's already too far gone from what you remember."

Elio had considered that, too. The ambush, Sophia's choice to fight, Carol stepping forward so soon—none of that had happened in the version of events he knew.

"I still know enough," Elio said.

Shane eyed him. "Enough to keep us alive?"

Elio didn't answer. Not right away.

Shane sighed. "Man… you better be right about this farm."

Elio looked ahead. The silhouette of the farmhouse was starting to take shape against the horizon. "We're about to find out."

The farmhouse stood tall against the golden fields, a picture of a world that no longer existed. To Hershel Greene, it still did.

As they approached, Hershel stepped out onto the porch, a shotgun resting in his hands. Maggie and Patricia stood behind him, their expressions guarded.

Elio had seen this scene before. Different faces, different words, but the same man—Hershel, clinging to the past like it hadn't already crumbled beneath his feet.

"We don't want trouble," Elio called.

Hershel's gaze swept over them. "You look like trouble."

Shane muttered under his breath, "Déjà vu."

Hershel's hands didn't tighten on the shotgun, but he didn't lower it either. "What do you want?"

Elio stepped forward. "Food. Rest. Maybe some medical supplies. We won't take more than we need."

Hershel studied him for a long moment. Then he exhaled. "One night. And I don't want any weapons inside my house."

Shane snorted. "That a joke?"

"No joke," Hershel said, voice like steel.

Shane looked at Elio. "You hearin' this?"

Elio nodded. He had expected this. Hershel believed in control—not through force, but by keeping things exactly as he wanted them.

"We'll keep our guns outside," Elio said. "But we keep our knives."

Hershel didn't like that, but he gave a slow nod. "Fine."

Hershel's Stubbornness

Inside, the house smelled of old wood and faintly of antiseptic. It was clean—too clean for a world like this. Hershel had worked hard to keep the outside from creeping in.

"You've got a nice place," Elio said, sitting at the table.

Hershel took the seat across from him, Maggie standing nearby. "It's home."

Shane leaned against the doorframe. "Ain't gonna stay that way forever."

Hershel's jaw tightened. "This farm has been in my family for generations. It was here before all this, and it'll be here after."

Elio sighed. He knew this conversation was coming. "Hershel… the world's not coming back. Not the way you remember it."

Hershel gave him a level look. "You don't know that."

"I do," Elio said. "And deep down, so do you."

Hershel sat back. "You're young. You see the world through fear. But that fear doesn't rule me. People have been saying the world was ending since before I was born. It's always survived."

"This isn't like before," Shane cut in. "People ain't just gettin' sick and recoverin'. They're dyin' and comin' back."

Hershel's fingers tapped against the table. "They're still people."

Elio knew what that meant. He knew what was in the barn. But he couldn't push too hard. Not yet.

"Listen," Elio said. "You've kept your family safe this long. That's not luck. But what happens when more people show up? Not ones like us. Ones who take what they want."

Hershel's expression didn't change. "We've managed so far."

Shane scoffed. "Yeah? How long you think that's gonna last?"

Hershel stood. "You can stay the night. But come morning, I want you gone."

Elio held his gaze. "We'll see."

Hershel frowned. "What does that mean?"

Elio shrugged. "Means you're gonna need us before you realize it."

Hershel said nothing, just turned and walked out of the room. Maggie hesitated, then followed him.

Shane let out a low whistle. "Man really thinks he's got it all figured out."

Elio ran a hand down his face. "Not for long."

The house was still, the only sound the occasional creak of the wood as the wind rustled outside. Elio found himself restless, staring at the ceiling as the weight of the day pressed against him. He couldn't sleep—not with the tension building in this place, not with the knowledge he carried.

Quietly, he slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Shane, and made his way downstairs.

The kitchen was dimly lit by the faint glow of moonlight streaming through the window. And there she was—Maggie—sitting at the table, the soft clink of her fingers tapping against a glass as she stared into the emptiness.

Elio paused in the doorway for a moment. The world felt different here, like everyone was still holding onto something that wasn't coming back.

He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. Maggie didn't seem surprised to see him, though she didn't speak right away. The silence was heavy, but it wasn't uncomfortable. They both understood that, in a world like this, sometimes silence said more than words could.

After a long while, Maggie's voice broke the stillness.

"Is it bad out there?" she asked, her voice low, almost hesitant. "Are people still people? Or are they worse than the dead ones?"

Elio let out a breath. It wasn't the first time someone had asked him that. And it probably wouldn't be the last.

He sat down across from her, the wood of the chair creaking under his weight. "It's... both, Maggie. There are still people out there trying to hold on to who they were, trying to survive. But there are others who've lost themselves. Who've become something else entirely."

Maggie took a slow sip from her glass, her gaze distant. "Dad... he thinks it'll be okay. That the world will turn around somehow."

Elio studied her closely, sensing the doubt in her words. "He wants to believe that. I get it. But you don't believe it, do you?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she set her glass down, her hands trembling slightly. "I want to. I really do. But... but it doesn't feel like there's any going back."

Elio leaned in a little, choosing his words carefully. "Maggie... you know about the barn, don't you?"

Maggie stiffened. She didn't ask how he knew. It wasn't hard to guess. People could only keep things hidden for so long.

Her voice was almost a whisper when she spoke again. "You're talking about the walkers, aren't you?"

Elio nodded. "You think they're just sick, that there's a chance they'll get better. But they won't. They can't."

Her eyes flashed, and her breath caught. "You don't know that. They were people once."

Elio sighed, his gaze softening. "I do know that, Maggie. I've seen it. There's no cure for what they are. You can't fix them."

Maggie looked away, her jaw set tight. "You don't understand. Those people in there—they're family, friends we can't just abandon them." Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the pain she tried to hide.

Elio felt a pang of sympathy, but he couldn't lie to her. "I know. But the longer you and your dad hold on to the idea that they'll come back—that they're still human—the more danger you put yourselves in. You need to be ready for what happens next."

Her hands shook as she stood, pacing a few steps before stopping and staring at the darkened window. "I'm trying. But how do you just... let go? How do you accept that they're gone?"

Elio met her eyes, his voice steady. "You have to face the truth. It won't be easy. But it's the only way to survive."

Maggie swallowed, her shoulders slumping as she turned back to the table. She didn't say anything else, just sat there, the weight of the conversation settling between them like a shadow.

Elio stayed for a while, not pressing her for answers, just offering his presence. The truth wasn't something Maggie was ready to accept yet, and he knew that. He wasn't sure when—or if—she ever would.

But in this world, you had to be ready for everything, even the hardest truths. And Maggie wasn't there yet.