CANON DIVERGENCE / SEASON 9.
perhaps it was a FOOL’S DREAM to believe that all the communities could find harmony with each other after negan’s downfall — but he was naught but a dreamer, imagining POSSIBILITY where others see rotten foundations. the bridge served to cross a gap both physical & metaphorical, one that would solidify trade routes & open up a NEW WORLD of options for their future.
that was, until the HERD.
betrayed by the bucking of horse & already dubious balance, he lands roughly upon packed earth, a brutally broken leg never set right taking the majority of weight’s brunt, causing pain of a severity he’d only felt when original wound was inflicted by negan’s hand. DEATH’S RATTLE draws closer as he fights to remain conscious, nearby metal rod left by abandoned construction utilised as a makeshift cane — his own riding off with spooked animal into the distance.
what follows is nearly an hours chase over familiar terrain, close calls frequent as limping steps falter when pain becomes unbearable. it’s only the thought of FAMILY that keeps him upright, images of CARL / JUDITH & those not of blood ( michonne / daryl / maggie / carol ) spurring movement when all he wants to do is REST.
bridge a staging ground, once-sharp mind can barely comprehend through blurred vision the sight of foundations bearing the weight of hundreds. it’s the wet ‘THUCK’ of an arrow embedding itself into nearby sunken skull that brings him back to himself, a weak nod sent in the direction of a man he’s come to know as brother, despite their prior altercation.
dynamite’s exposure accompanies a heavy heart — way forward is clear despite fogged images ahead, left arm raising in a deadly salute to those he’d die to protect. there’s an apology in the tense of fingertip, in the rattle of exhalation when trigger compresses ; A NEW WORLD ON THE HORIZON, sacrifice inevitable were communities to survive.
he only hopes carl can forgive him one day.
THEN THE WORLD IS AFLAME. heat engulfs lungs upon the breast of next inhalation, before ground gives way & water replaces smoke in a throat raw from exertion. black hole is almost a blessing, rubble falling without discrimination on-top of those dead & figure unresponsive.
downstream, the river regurgitates its captive as if toll had already been paid — bridge may have been burned but bonds were never tighter, for there was hope in the chaos of herd’s calamity future’s leader was unexpectedly ALIVE.
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