Travelling through the multiverse starting with: The Walking Dead

The first rays of morning sunlight stretched across the quarry, painting the landscape in muted golds and greys. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and the lingering smoke from last night's fire. The camp stirred slowly, bodies shifting in their makeshift tents, murmured voices breaking the quiet of dawn.

Shane sat at the base of Elliott's tree, arms resting over his knees. He hadn't slept. Not really. His mind had been a battlefield of conflicting emotions, playing and replaying everything Elliott had told him. His death. Carl's death. The choices that led them there. The fact that he was sitting beneath a man who claimed to be able to defeat gods.

It was insane.

And yet, something deep inside him whispered that it was true.

Above him, Elliott remained motionless on his perch, eyes closed but fully aware of the world around him. He could feel Shane's turmoil, his wavering disbelief, his desperate need for control over something he had no power to change. Elliott didn't push him. The choice had to be his own.

The sound of footsteps approaching drew Shane's attention. Carl, still wrapped in the oversized hoodie he always wore, walked toward them, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His gaze flicked between the two before settling on Elliott's still form above.

"Did you really stay up there all night?" Carl asked, curiosity lacing his words.

Elliott cracked an eye open, smirking. "Seemed like a good spot."

Carl grinned, the excitement from last night still bubbling just beneath the surface. "Can you teach me how to jump like that?"

Shane sighed, running a hand down his face. "Kid, it's too early for this."

Elliott hummed thoughtfully before finally leaping down, landing with ease beside them. "Maybe. If you're serious."

Carl beamed at that, but before he could say anything else, voices from the main camp caught their attention.

Lori.

Shane tensed as her voice carried through the morning air, already laced with irritation. He turned toward the camp, jaw tightening as he recognized the familiar sound of her arguing—most likely about something insignificant, but Lori had a way of turning anything into an ordeal.

Elliott watched Shane carefully. He had seen firsthand how Lori's words could twist, how she could manipulate without realizing the destruction she left in her wake. He could already sense the slow unraveling of what was left of Shane's patience.

"I'll handle it," Shane muttered, shoving himself to his feet. He gave Elliott a long, searching look before turning away. "Stay with Carl."

Elliott said nothing, watching as Shane strode toward the argument brewing near the RV. He could already hear the tension before he even reached them.

Carl shifted beside him, shoving his hands into his pockets. "She's gonna yell at him again, isn't she?"

Elliott tilted his head slightly. "Most likely."

Carl kicked at a loose rock. "I don't get it. He does everything, but she still looks at him like he's the bad guy."

Elliott glanced down at the boy. The raw confusion in Carl's voice was something he hadn't expected. For all of Carl's sharp edges and toughened exterior, he was still just a kid trying to understand a world that had lost all sense of fairness.

"She doesn't see it," Elliott said finally. "Some people never do."

Carl frowned but didn't press further.

From the main camp, Shane's voice rose over the others, sharp and cutting. Elliott sighed, rolling his shoulders. This wouldn't end well.

Elliott stood up and grabbed Carl's hand, pulling him over to the display. 

As they reached the group Carl's ears picked up his mum's voice.

"You weren't in the tent last night," she accused, her arms crossed. "Where the hell were you?"

Shane tensed, jaw tightening. "What does it matter?"

Lori scoffed. "It matters because Carl was asking for you. Because you weren't there, and now he's—"

Her voice cut off as she turned her head, finally noticing Carl standing next to Elliott. Her expression darkened, and without hesitation, she stepped forward before Carl could voice her lies, reaching to grab Carl's arm.

"Carl, come here," she demanded.

Carl hesitated, then instinctively stepped back, his foot catching on a loose rock. He barely had time to react before he lost his balance, falling backward—only to be caught by Elliott's steady hands before he could hit the ground.

Shane was already moving, closing the distance between them. His eyes flicked between Carl and Elliott, his concern evident. Carl looked up at Elliott, then at Shane, before nodding that he was fine.

Lori, however, looked livid. Without another word, she turned sharply and stormed off, frustration rolling off her in waves.

Elliott steadied Carl and patted his shoulder. "You good?"

Elliott steadied Carl and patted his shoulder. "You good?"

Carl nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Come on," Elliott said, steering Carl toward the makeshift kitchen area. "Let's get some food in you."

As they sat down to eat, Carl remained uncharacteristically quiet. He picked at his food, his mind clearly elsewhere. After a moment, he spoke. "Do you think my mom even likes me?"

Elliott looked at him, his expression unreadable. "She cares. Just not in a way that makes sense to you."

Carl frowned. "She always yells at Shane. She always tells me what I can't do. But she never listens to what I want."

Elliott took a slow bite, considering his words. "Some people love control more than they love people. Your mom thinks keeping you safe means keeping you in line. But that doesn't mean she doesn't care."

Carl didn't look convinced but nodded anyway, focusing on finishing his meal.

Meanwhile, inside the RV, Shane, Dale, Merle, Daryl, Andrea, and the other core members of the camp gathered around, discussing supplies and their next run. The conversation was practical, covering food, water, medicine—everything they needed to keep going.

As the discussion neared its end, Elliott stepped inside.

"While you're out, we need weapons," he said bluntly.

The group turned toward him, some skeptical, others curious. Shane leaned forward. "We already got guns."

"Guns are loud," Elliott countered. "Attract too much attention. You need melee weapons—blades, bats, things that don't make noise."

Merle scoffed. "What, you expect us to go medieval on these things?"

Elliott met his gaze without hesitation. "You got a better idea?"

Daryl, sitting back with his arms crossed, smirked. "Man's got a point. Ain't like we got unlimited ammo."

Andrea hesitated before nodding. "If we can find anything usable, it wouldn't hurt."

Shane considered it, then nodded. "Makes sense. We'll add it to the list."

He paused before looking at Elliott again. "How's Carl?"

Elliott folded his arms. "Cleaning his teeth. He's still shaken up, though. And he's blaming Lori for it."

Shane exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "That kid…"

Elliott shrugged. "Not that I have a problem blaming her, but it's unhealthy. She'll start another fight if she catches wind of it."

Shane didn't respond right away, just nodded slowly. The weight of everything sat heavy between them, but nothing more needed to be said.

As the conversation ended, the group began gathering supplies, preparing to leave. The supply run would take days, and by the time they returned, the camp would feel different.

Elliott stood near the RV's entrance, watching as they finalized their preparations. He could already sense it—things were shifting, and soon, there would be no turning back.

Carl appeared at his side, watching the group load up. "Do you think they'll come back?"

Elliott glanced at him, then back at the camp. "Most of them. Some people are meant to be reunited."

Carl furrowed his brows, trying to process Elliott's words. "Reunited?" He turned the thought over in his head, then suddenly his eyes widened. "You mean my dad?"

Elliott didn't answer immediately, but the small flicker of something in his gaze was enough. Carl felt his heartbeat pick up, excitement creeping into his chest. "My dad's alive, isn't he? You were telling the truth? He's coming back."

Elliott gave a slight tilt of his head, offering nothing more. But Carl didn't need confirmation. He had his answer.

Carl frowned but didn't ask for clarification. He was starting to understand—Elliott didn't say things unless he was sure.

The vehicles rumbled to life, kicking up dust as they pulled away from the camp. Elliott watched them disappear over the horizon, already knowing that when they returned, nothing would be the same.