Travelling through the multiverse starting with: The Walking Dead

The rest of the day passed with an uneasy calm. Elliott, Shane, and Carl busied themselves around the camp, helping where they could, reinforcing the perimeter, and keeping their distance from Lori. She made no attempt to apologise to Carl, which only deepened the resentment simmering within the boy. Elliott could see it plainly—the way Carl's eyes lingered on her, his small hands tightening into fists whenever she passed by. The boy was growing colder and harder, and Lori either didn't notice or didn't care.

By nightfall, the camp settled into a strained silence, the absence of the supply group weighing on everyone. People gathered around the fire, speaking in hushed tones, speculating on when they would return. No one had any real answers.

Carl refused to go back to Lori's tent. Instead, he curled up next to Shane and Elliott beneath the tree, his small frame nestled between them. Elliott remained awake long after the boy and Shane drifted off, staring at the stars overhead, lost in thought.

The morning came with a sharp chill in the air. Shane awoke first, instantly noticing Carl curled up tighter in his sleep, his breath visible in the cold morning air. Without a second thought, Shane scooped him up and carried him toward the center of camp, gently placing him into a camper chair and draping a blanket over him.

Shane stood up, stretching out his stiff limbs before glancing toward Elliott's tree. It was empty.

His brows furrowed. He turned, scanning the area, and just caught sight of Elliott slipping into the woods.

Shane hesitated only a moment before following.

Elliott moved with purpose, but Shane was careful, keeping a good distance, observing. It wasn't until Elliott suddenly called out, "You going to keep hiding, or are you coming with me?" that Shane sighed and stepped into view.

"Didn't take you for the sneaky type," Elliott remarked, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Shane scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Figured I'd see what you're up to. Looks like you're sneakin' off for something."

Elliott exhaled through his nose, looking toward the treeline. "Just going on a run. Needed to clear my head."

Shane nodded and, without hesitation, said, "I'm coming with you."

Elliott didn't argue. He simply nodded and started jogging along the quarry's edge, Shane falling into step beside him.

For a while, they ran in silence. Shane found himself watching the way Elliott moved—effortlessly, almost like he wasn't even exerting himself. His form was controlled, measured, precise. Shane barely realized he was staring until his foot slid over a loose stone.

He barely had time to react before gravity took hold.

A sharp gasp left his lips as he began to fall over the quarry's edge, but before he could plummet, an invisible force yanked him back. He was lifted into the air and pulled safely away from the drop-off. The next thing he knew, his back hit something solid, stopping their movement altogether.

Elliott.

Shane blinked, stunned, as he found himself pressed against the other man, their bodies flush against one another. Elliott's arms caged him in, firm and protective. Their faces were so close, Shane could feel Elliott's breath ghosting over his skin.

Shane swallowed hard. He should step away. He should move.

But he didn't.

Elliott's eyes bore into his, intense and unwavering. Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned in.

The kiss was unlike anything Shane had ever felt. There was a quiet intensity to it—firm, sure, but also careful, almost reverent. It sent a shock through Shane's system, warmth curling in his gut. Elliott wasn't just kissing him; he was grounding him, tethering him to something solid, something real.

Time blurred. Minutes passed, or maybe only seconds, but it wasn't until a distant sound broke through the quiet that Shane snapped back to reality. He pulled away abruptly, face flushed, breathing uneven.

Elliott, ever composed, let him go with a small, knowing smile.

Shane exhaled sharply and muttered, "We should get back. Carl's probably awake by now."

Elliott nodded, the corner of his lips twitching upward. "Alright."

They walked back in silence, shoulders occasionally brushing.

When they returned, Carl was awake, rubbing his eyes as he sat in the camper chair. Upon seeing them, he immediately ran over and hugged them both.

Carl then looked up at Shane, studying his face before frowning slightly. "Why are your lips all swollen?"

Shane choked on air, avoiding Elliott's amused gaze. "It's—it's nothin', kid. Don't worry about it."

Elliott, for once, showed mercy and changed the subject. "Come on, let's eat."

The next few days passed smoothly. Carl spent most of his time shadowing Shane and Elliott, soaking in everything they taught him. Elliott worked with them both, teaching them how to track, how to hunt, how to properly wield a knife. He showed Carl how to duck, avoid punches, and strike back with precision. Shane also found himself learning, though he didn't openly admit it.

Lori, however, avoided them completely. And Carl noticed.

"She still hasn't even tried to talk to me," he muttered one afternoon as he sat sharpening a small stick with his knife.

Shane frowned but didn't comment. Elliott, however, leaned back against a tree, watching the boy carefully. "Are you hoping she will?"

Carl hesitated, then shook his head. "No."

Elliott nodded as if he'd expected that.

Over time, the bond between them deepened. Shane's soul bond with Elliott rose to 73%, while Carl's shot up to 84%. It was instinctual, an unspoken connection that grew stronger with every moment they spent together.

As a kid, Carl was quicker to trust than most, especially when you gave them a reason to.

Meanwhile, the camp operated as usual, but small cracks were forming. Ed and Amy often whispered about leadership, while Lori made snide remarks about how things ran. Elliott could see that something was brewing beneath the surface.

Then, on an early afternoon, while Elliott was guiding Carl through evasive footwork, Shane sat nearby talking about frog legs—when the distant wail of a siren pierced the air.

All three of them turned toward the sound, tension crackling instantly.

Other camp members froze, whispering frantically.

Dale rushed toward the RV, grabbing his binoculars. "What the hell is that?"

A car was approaching the camp.

Shane instinctively moved in front of Carl, his hand hovering near his gun. Elliott, however, remained eerily calm, his eyes fixed on the approaching vehicle.

Elliott turned to Carl, voice low but firm. "Stay close."

Carl clenched his small fists but nodded. He wasn't scared—at least, he didn't want to be.

Shane's jaw tightened. He could feel it—the shift, the moment where everything changed.

He exhaled slowly. "Looks like things are about to change."