biggerbetterbat

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [21] A BRAND-NEW BEGINNING

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: The aftermath of the lineup. Everything and everyone the group knew, is now shattered. It’s the beginning of a new era. Charlie meets someone from her past, and her world is upside down once again.

Words: 3.651

Warnings: death, violence, language

Song: Tom Odell - Another Love

A/N: I’m extremely excited to share this Act with you. This part of the story I had planned for the longest time, and now I can finally show it to you.

Enjoy!

The first rays of dawn pierced through the trees, casting an eerie light on the horrific scene. The forest was still, the air thick with a silence that felt unnatural, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Charlie knelt on the cold, hard ground, her knees aching from the pressure, but her mind barely registered the discomfort. Her eyes were glued to the earth in front of her, unwilling to take in the full scope of the carnage around her.

Mom, dad, Finn, Will, Luke, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Otis, Sophia, Dale, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle, Andrea, Zach, Patrick, Hershel, Mika, Lizzie, Bob, Beth, Tyreese, Noah, Deanna, Denise, Abraham, Glenn.

Her gaze flickered briefly to what remained of Glenn, and she felt something inside her break. Abraham's bold, defiant words still echoed in her ears—the last remnants of his unbreakable spirit. A sob threatened to rise in her throat, but she swallowed it down, too terrified and exhausted to cry. Her body felt like it was betraying her, but the fear had drained all the energy from her bones.

Mom, dad, Finn, Will, Luke, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Otis, Sophia, Dale, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle, Andrea, Zach, Patrick, Hershel, Mika, Lizzie, Bob, Beth, Tyreese, Noah, Deanna, Denise, Abraham, Glenn.

The distant rumble of an engine echoed through the still forest, sending a shiver down her spine. She turned slowly, her body numb as she watched the familiar silhouette of the RV appear from between the trees. Her heart sank like a stone. Negan was back.

Rick stumbled out of the RV, pushed roughly by Negan. His face was pale, his eyes hollow—he looked like a man who had been to hell and back. Negan followed him, swinging Lucille over his shoulder with a smirk that twisted Charlie's stomach.

"Miss me?" Negan called out, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. His eyes swept over the group like a predator surveying its prey, the gleam of satisfaction sickening. "This trip was about the way you looked at me. I wanted you to understand," Negan said to Rick, shaking his head. "But you're still looking at me the same damn way... like I shit in your scrambled eggs. That's not gonna work. Should I give you another chance?"

Rick's broken voice answered, "Yeah... Ye-Yes."

Negan's grin widened as he gestured with Lucille. "All right. And here it is... the grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day. Get some guns to the back of their heads."

Charlie dropped her gaze to the blood-soaked earth beneath her knees. The cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of her head, the metal biting into her skin. The sensation should have terrified her, but all she felt was a numb, hollow coldness. Glenn was dead. Abraham was dead. What more could they do to her?

But she regretted asking herself that question the moment she heard Negan's next command.

"Kid... Right here."

Her heart seized in her chest as she looked up, her gaze locking on Carl. He was kneeling just a few feet away, his face set in grim defiance. Charlie's heart ached as she watched him—Carl, who had grown up too fast in this unforgiving world. He didn't flinch as Negan's gaze settled on him, but Charlie could feel the fear that must have been coursing through him.

Negan wrapped his belt around Carl's left arm, pulling it tight, and her stomach churned. She wanted to scream, to leap forward, but the gun pressed against her head was a sharp reminder of what could happen if she moved.

"Get down on the ground, kid, next to Daddy."

Carl complied without hesitation, lying beside Rick. Charlie's heart shattered at the sight. Even with the pain and fear etched into his young features, boy still tried to stay strong. His silent bravery only made the situation more unbearable.

"Rick, I want to take your axe..." Negan said, pulling the words out slowly, like they were a sick joke.

"No, please..." Charlie whispered, barely audible, her voice trembling. The gun pressed harder against her head.

"Cut your son's left arm off. Right on that line," Negan continued with cold detachment. "Now, I know. I get it. You need to process it. But I'm gonna need you to do it, or else all these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies. And the people at home. And then you... eventually."

"You don't have to do this," Michonne spoke up, her voice tight with barely contained emotion. She was saying what Charlie wanted to scream, but fear kept her frozen.

"You understand!" he mocked, pointing at Michonne. "She understands! They understand! Yeah. I'm not sure Rick does."

Charlie watched as Rick crumbled, tears falling freely from his eyes, his entire body shaking. Her own tears threatened to fall, but she clenched her jaw, forcing them back. She couldn't break—not now. But as Negan continued to toy with them, as Rick knelt over Carl, axe in hand, Charlie felt herself reaching her limit.

"Rick!" Negan barked. "Not making a decision is a big decision!"

The tension in the air was unbearable, suffocating. Charlie couldn't stand it anymore. Her heart was tearing in two, and before she realized what she was doing, she cried out, "Rick, do something!"

"Woah!" Negan called and pointed at her with Lucille. "Do I need to remind you what happens if you don't comply?"

Charlie's breath caught in her throat as she looked up, her eyes locking with Negan's for the first time. It was as if electricity ran down her body. His gaze was sharp, almost predatory, but there was something else there too—a terrifying glint of amusement, as if he relished every ounce of pain and fear radiating from the group.

Among everything, he was a leader. Under his gaze she felt exposed, vulnerable, her fear laid bare in front of him. The intensity of his gaze made her feel small, like a prey caught in the crosshairs of a hunter.

Her eyes flickered downward, unable to bear the weight of Negan's gaze any longer. The sight of Glenn and Abraham's lifeless bodies twisted her stomach, the fresh blood still staining the earth like a gruesome reminder of the horror they had just endured. She felt a cold wave of nausea wash over her, but more than that, an overwhelming sense of sorrow for Carl. The boy had been through so much already, and now he was being forced to face this unimaginable cruelty.

Her heart clenched in fear. Carl didn't deserve this. He was just a kid, thrust into a world of violence and death, and now he was being pushed to the breaking point. She could see the strain in his face, the way his jaw tightened and his eyes hardened, trying to be brave for everyone. But beneath it all, she could sense the fear, the uncertainty.

"Good," Negan said, a sinister grin spreading across his face. "Now, are you gonna make me count? Okay! I am counting!"

Tears streamed down Charlie's face, the dirt and blood beneath her knees. Rick, once a symbol of unshakable strength, was now broken beside her, his own tears mingling with the grime on his face. Her heart shattered at the sight of him—this man, their leader, now utterly defeated and ready to comply with the unthinkable. As Rick steeled himself for what Negan had ordered, the man's voice cut through the air once again, dripping with twisted authority.

"Rick, you answer to me," Negan's voice was casual but commanding, a tone that sent chills down her spine. "You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?"

Rick, trembling, nodded.

"Speak when you're spoken to!"

"Provide for you. Right," his voice cracked, barely a whisper.

Negan smiled, satisfied with the broken man in front of him. "We did this... together. Even the dead guys on the ground!" His gaze flicked to Glenn and Abraham's lifeless bodies. "Hell, they get the spirit award from me. Today was a productive damn day!"

As he stood tall, his words seemed to hang in the air like a death sentence. "Things have changed, and I hope, for all of your sake, that you get it now." Turning to Dwight, he ordered, "Ah, Dwight... load him up."

Charlie's heart pounded as she saw Dwight roughly seize Daryl, dragging him towards the truck. Fear surged through her, nearly paralyzing, but instinct took over. She couldn't stand by. She couldn't lose someone else. Tears blurred her vision as she watched, her chest tightening with panic.

"No!" Charlie screamed, her voice raw. "Leave him alone! Leave him alone!"

Her voice was drowned out by the chaos, a futile plea in the storm of despair. But then, Negan's voice broke through the tumult like a crack of thunder.

"Stop!" Negan's bellow halted everyone in their tracks. His frustration was palpable, his face contorted in rage. "How many people have to die for you to understand the rules?" He groaned, rubbing his eyes like this whole massacre was an inconvenience. Then, opening his eyes, he pointed Lucille directly at Charlie.

Her blood turned to ice.

"I've changed my mind," Negan declared, his voice chillingly calm now. His dark eyes locked onto hers, a twisted grin curling his lips. "Her."

Charlie's breath caught in her throat as Dwight released Daryl and turned his predatory gaze toward her. She stumbled backward, her heart pounding with renewed terror. "No!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she tried to fight the inevitable. "Let me go!"

Her body thrashed in desperation, but Dwight's grip was unrelenting. She felt the strength drain from her limbs as she fought against him, her mind spinning with fear and helplessness. The world around her faded into the background, the voices of her friends desperate but distant.

"No," she heard Andy's weak voice. "No. No! NO!" he screamed and probably tried to reach her, because then came the sound of ruffled clothes and his groans.

Negan's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as he knelt beside Rick, almost conversational. "I like her. I like her a lot. She's mine now."

He leaned closer to Rick, his voice dripping with menace. "But you still want to try something? Not today, not tomorrow...." He smiled darkly. "Not today, not tomorrow, I'll cut pieces off of—"

"Charlie..." Rick's whisper barely escaped his lips.

"And I really don't want to hurt such a pretty girl. But you push me, and I'll bring her right to you... and make you do it for me."

Charlie's world shattered around her as she felt the cold grip of fate tighten. There was no escaping it now. There was no plan or person that would miraculously come and save them. Save her. Negan had claimed her, and the nightmare had only just begun.

Negan patted Rick on the back, as if they were old friends, and once again stood up.

"Welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry shits!"

The journey to the Sanctuary felt like a descent into darkness, every jolt of the van a reminder of how far she was from the life she once knew. The life she just created for herself. Charlie sat in the back, alone with her thoughts and the traumatizing memories of the night before. Tears threatened to spill again, but fear kept her silent. Any sound, any weakness, could cost her dearly. The van rattled along the desolate roads, each mile a bitter reminder of her helplessness.

When the vehicle finally screeched to a halt, Charlie's heart began to race. The doors swung open, and she squinted against the sudden burst of sunlight. Her pulse quickened as she stepped out onto the dusty ground of the Sanctuary, uncertainty gnawing at her insides.

"We're home," Dwight said with a detached finality.

Every instinct screamed at her to fight, to rebel, but fear gripped her too tightly. Her body was exhausted from kneeling for so long and drained from emotions she experienced. And wrong move meant death. It wasn't Shane or the Governor, Negan and his people were the force you can't beat alone. She had to be careful.

As she glanced around, the sight of the Sanctuary sent a shiver through her. The walls loomed high and oppressive, casting long shadows over everything in sight. This was no community, no safe haven—it was a fortress of despair, built on brutality.

Her breath caught as she turned her back to building, to the sound of moaning. She almost gasped and took a step closer in that direction.

The cries of the living mingled with the grotesque groans of the dead, a sickening dance of terror. Alive people were trying to fight the dead, eventually getting bitten and turning into monsters. Charlie felt her stomach lurch as the horrifying realization hit her.

"Impressive, right?" Dwight's voice was cold, as though this macabre spectacle were just another form of entertainment. "He likes a bit of fun."

A wave of anger surged through Charlie, her fists clenching at her sides. How could anyone find amusement in such horror? But before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the chaos.

"What do we have here?"

Charlie froze. The voice—so familiar it sent a chill down her spine—made her heart stop. For a fleeting moment, she dared to hope, dared to imagine the impossible. She was too far from Atlanta, and it had been so long since the outbreak. Her brothers couldn't have survived this long... could they? But the sound of that voice was undeniable, even if her mind screamed that it had to be a trick of her trauma-soaked imagination.

She turned slowly, her movements hesitant, anticipation swirling in her chest. And then her breath caught in her throat.

It wasn't a stranger standing before her.

His face was worn, marked by years of hardship, his eyes darkened by the things he had seen. He seemed taller now, more muscular than she remembered, his body hardened by survival. His once-short blonde hair had grown wild and unruly, and a scruffy beard framed his strong jaw. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips, his focus entirely on lighting it.

Tears welled in Charlie's eyes. She took an instinctive step forward, her body moving before her mind could catch up. But she stopped, as if afraid her hope would shatter if she moved too fast.

The man looked up. His eyes widened in disbelief, the cigarette nearly slipping from his lips. His gaze locked on her face, scanning it as though trying to analyze the image before him. For a moment, time stood still. There were no words, no explanations—just shock, disbelief, and something deeper that flickered in both their eyes.

Then, without a word, he moved toward her, and Charlie fell into his arms. His embrace was strong, protective, and in that moment, the world around them ceased to exist. Charlie buried her face in his shoulder, she closed her eyes feeling grounded. In the chaos of this day, after months of uncertainty and unknown, she finally held something she knew.

For a long time, they stood in silence, holding on as if letting go would break the fragile reality of their reunion. The noise of the Sanctuary faded into the background, leaving only the warmth of the embrace.

Charlie didn't want to let go. She feared that if she did, he might disappear, and she would wake up to find that this had all been a cruel dream. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him again. Not William. Not her brother. Not after all she had endured.

The air was thick with silence, interrupted only by the soft drip of water echoing through the dim, damp chamber. Charlie sat huddled in the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, desperate to hold onto what little warmth she could find. Her mind raced, consumed with thoughts of her friends, her family, and the life she feared she had lost forever.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, spilling a narrow shaft of light into the dark cell. Charlie's heart leaped into her throat. She blinked rapidly, her eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness. A figure stepped inside, and recognition hit her like a wave.

"I thought you were dead," he gasped, falling to his knees in front of her, his face pale with disbelief.

"I thought the same thing," Charlie whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought to keep them at bay. "What happened, William? What happened to our family? Are they... are they still alive?"

William's face darkened, his shoulders sagging under the weight of painful memories. "Mom didn't make it. She was bitten, almost at the start. We were left on our own."

Charlie felt a sob rising in her throat, but she decided to swallow it.

"And the boys? What happened to them? Where are they?" Her voice cracked, her words urgent, but his silence spoke volumes. She grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "Will, tell me."

His eyes darted away. "Things got complicated. We didn't know what to do... or where you were. If you even were alive."

"But what about our brothers? Where are they now?"

"I don't know," William muttered, the admission heavy with guilt.

Hot tears stung Charlie's eyes, her chest tightening with grief. She saw the toll it had taken on William, the haunted look in his eyes, the way he seemed haunted by the memories. But before she could press him further, he offered a sliver of hope.

"But Dad's here."

Charlie's breath hitched. "Dad's here?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

"He's working on something now," William nodded, his expression softening. "He knows you're here, and he'll come as soon as he can, I promise."

Relief washed over her, but unease quickly followed. William reached out, brushing the tears from her cheeks with a tenderness that only made her heart ache more. Yet the moment of comfort was short-lived.

"I tried to get them to let you out," William said, his voice low. "But Negan... Negan said you have to stay here for a while."

"Why? What does he want?"

"Negan takes care of us, Charlie. He protects us. The Sanctuary is our home now."

"Our home?" Charlie's anger flared. "Are you out of your mind? Negan murdered my friends!"

William's face twisted in disbelief as if placed all the missing puzzles together. "Wait... you were with those people?"

"Yes, and they saved my life. Many times. I wouldn't be sitting here if not them," she spat, her voice laced with fury. "What's with that look, Will? Do you really think they're the bad guys?"

"They killed my friends," he shot back, his voice hard, but there was an edge of uncertainty.

"Friends?" Charlie scoffed. "You mean the same people who terrorize communities, who leave innocent survivors to die?"

The words hung in the air like a guillotine. For the first time, they weren't just siblings—they were enemies, standing on opposite sides of an impossible divide. The weight of their unspoken conflict pressed down on them, the shared bond of family shattered by the brutal reality of their new world.

"You were there," he said firmly rather than asking. "In the outpost. You were there."

Before Charlie could say anything, a man appeared in the doorway, his expression grim. "William," he said quietly. "Negan's orders. We're leaving."

William straightened, his posture shifting with a newfound sense of purpose. Charlie noticed the way the man looked to him, not just as a fellow survivor, but as someone in a position of authority. Her stomach sank. This was what Paula had warned her about. The truth hit her with a crushing sense of betrayal—William was important here. Negan trusted him.

"Where are you going?" Charlie demanded, her voice trembling with disbelief.

"We're heading to Alexandria," William replied, his tone casual, as though he just said he was going shopping.

"Alexandria?" she gasped, her heart pounding. Charlie's blood ran cold. "William, please... do something for me."

He paused, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "What is it?"

"Check on Rosita and Sasha," she said, her voice pleading. "One of the men Negan killed was close to them. And if you see a boy with an eye patch, tell him I'm okay."

William nodded slowly, though his expression remained guarded.

"And find out what happened to Maggie," she whispered urgently, gripping his arm. "Please, Will. I need to know."

His face hardened, his emotions warring behind his eyes. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Negan told me to give you this."

He tossed a stack of photos onto the ground, and Charlie's heart dropped as she recognized the bloody, mutilated bodies of her friends. A wave of nausea surged through her as she stared at the grotesque images, her grief quickly turning into a white-hot rage.

Tears blurred her vision, but this time they weren't from sorrow. They were from the sheer, consuming fury burning inside her. Her breaths became shallow and panicked, her chest tightening as the weight of everything—her captivity, her loss, her brother's betrayal—crashed down on her all at once. She pressed her hands to her chest, as if trying to stop herself from shattering completely.

And one thought didn't want to leave her mind.

If William was someone important here, her father must have been just as important. And if Clay Reed was in position of power next to a sadist killer, she was in bigger troubles.

Suddenly Negan became less evil.

[biggerbetterbat]

[2] news

Bucky Barnes x oc!Jennifer Cole

Steve Rogers x platonic!Jennifer Cole

Summary: Jennifer tries to distract herself with work. Her peace is interrupted by Steve’s news.

Warnings: none

Words: 1.340

masterlist | PREVIOUS | NEXT

1943, Brooklyn

It was only a few days since Bucky had left, but already, the streets seemed emptier without him around. The familiar sounds of their neighborhood—the occasional chatter, the rumble of trolley cars, even the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer—felt muted somehow.

Yet, despite the growing emptiness, Jennifer remained hopeful. This war, as terrible as it was, couldn't last forever. Things would go back to normal. They had to.

She pushed through the front doors of the hospital. The familiar scent of antiseptic hit her, mingling with the faint undercurrent of soap and floor polish. It was comforting in a strange way, the routine of it. The predictability.

"Nurse Cole, you're on the third floor today," Nurse Briggs said, looking up from her clipboard. Briggs had a permanent frown etched into her face, as though smiling required more effort than it was worth.

"Got it," Jennifer replied with a quick nod, pulling on her apron. She smoothed down the creases, tying it tight around her waist before heading up the stairs. She preferred taking the steps over the elevator—something about the rhythmic sound of her shoes clicking against the marble was soothing.

On the third floor, things were calm, at least for now. No screaming children or panicked mothers, no wailing patients. Just the low hum of life in the background. Jennifer liked it that way. It gave her time to breathe, time to focus on the tasks at hand.

She made her rounds, checking on patients, adjusting pillows, making sure water pitchers were filled. A woman in her sixties gave her a tired smile when Jennifer brought her a fresh blanket.

"Thank you, dear," the woman said, her voice frail but warm.

Jennifer smiled back. "It's no trouble."

"One day, when you're my age," the woman said. "Everything seems like trouble."

She smiled and touched woman's hand that was caressing her own skin.

As she continued down the corridor, she found herself thinking about Bucky. Not in the gut-wrenching way that some of the other girls talked about their sweethearts off at war - or about Bucky. No, for Jennifer, it was more like a quiet hum in the back of her mind. She missed him, of course, but she wasn't worried. Bucky could take care of himself. He always had.

The war would end, and when it did, he'd come back. That's what kept her steady.

Later that afternoon, Jennifer sat in the small breakroom, her legs crossed beneath her as she sipped a cup of tea. She had a few moments of peace before her next shift began, and she relished them.

The door creaked open, and Jennifer glanced up to see Steve Rogers standing there, his frame small and sickly in the doorway. His shoulders slightly hunched as if carrying a weight too heavy for him - typical Stevie. But there was something new in his posture—an urgency, a purpose she hadn't seen before. Even a happy grin at the corner of his lips.

"Steve," she called, hurrying over to him. "What are you doing here?"

He gave her a tired smile, the kind that tried to hide the exhaustion etched in his eyes. "I came to see you."

Jen frowned, concern building in her chest. They found a quiet corner away from the flurry of nurses and patients. As they sat down, she studied his face, examining this something in his eyes from up close.

"So, what's going on?" she asked, trying to sound casual, though her heart was already racing. "You didn't just come here for a visit, did you?"

"I met someone."

"Someone?"

"Dr. Erskine," Steve began, his voice unsteady. "I'm joining the army," he blurted out.

Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, Jennifer just stared at him. The words didn't make sense at first, not coming from him. She had known Steve had been trying to enlist, but the thought of him actually going had always felt distant, almost unreal. He'd been rejected so many times, and she knew his health made it unlikely he'd ever be accepted. If he were to join the army for real, he'd be dead immediately.

"Joining the army?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind spinning. "They've rejected you how many times now?"

"I know they've rejected me. But this time is different," he said. "This man...He...He said I have a chance."

Jennifer leaned back in her chair, studying his face. There was a desperation in his eyes, one she had never seen before. Steve had always been the one with the big heart, always ready to stand up for what was right, even if his body couldn't keep up. But this... this was different.

"A chance?"

"I have to try, Jenny. I can't just stay here and do nothing."

There was a long silence between them, the weight of his decision hanging heavy in the air. Jennifer looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting in her lap. She wanted to tell him to stop, to tell him that staying in Brooklyn was the best thing for him, for all of them. But she knew better. Steve wasn't the type to sit still when there was something he could do.

Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I am."

She shook her head, a mix of exasperation and affection bubbling up inside her. "You're going to get yourself killed, Steve."

"I won't," he said confidently, though his smile faltered slightly. "I'll find a way to make a difference. I have to."

Jennifer closed her eyes for a moment, her heart heavy. She didn't want to lose Steve too. First Bucky, now him... it was too much. But she could see it in his eyes. He had already made up his mind.

"I'm proud of you," she said softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "I know this is what you've always wanted. I won't try to stop you."

The room fell silent for a moment as they sat together, the noise of the hospital distant, like it didn't quite belong to the world they were now navigating. Finally, Jennifer stood and crossed the small room to her coat, her movements slow and deliberate. She reached into the pocket and pulled out a small envelope, creased slightly at the edges from being carried around.

"I almost forgot," she said, turning back to Steve. "I was going to send this, but... now that you're going, maybe you could give it to him yourself."

Steve's eyes flickered with curiosity as she handed him the envelope. He took it carefully, his thumb brushing over the ink where she had written Bucky's name.

"It's a letter for Bucky?" Steve asked gently, looking up at her.

"Yeah." Jennifer nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. "I...Forgot to tell him something. Just... just in case you see him before I do, would you give it to him? It's nothing special, but..."

"I'll make sure he gets it."

"And don't read it."

"I promise," he smiled.

They stood, and Steve pulled her into a hug. His arms were thin, and his body still fragile beneath her touch, but she could feel something different about him—an inner strength that wasn't there before. Jen held on tightly, wishing she could protect him from the world, from the war that was pulling him away.

When they finally pulled apart, Steve's eyes held a mixture of sadness and hope. "Take care of yourself, Jenny," he said softly.

"You too, Steve. Stay safe." Her throat tightened.

With one last smile, Steve turned and walked out of the hospital, leaving Jen standing there, the weight of their goodbye settling over her like a lead blanket. She watched him go, his small frame disappearing into the crowded streets of Brooklyn, and for the first time, she wasn't sure if she'd ever see him again.

[biggerbetterbat]

[ANTI]HERO | masterlist

[1] like it’s our last night

[2] news

[biggerbetterbat]

[1] like it’s our last night

Bucky Barnes x oc!Jennifer Cole

Steve Rogers x platonic!Jennifer Cole

Summary: Bucky wants to spend his last night with his friends before he goes on the front.

Warnings: fluff, talking about dying on a war

Words: 4.055

[masterlist] NEXT

1943, New York City

The sound of punches echoed through the narrow alley, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground. Jennifer Cole winced as she stood close to the wall, watching the one-sided fight unfold. Steve Rogers, small and defiant as ever, lay crumpled against a brick wall, still trying to get up despite the clear beating he'd just taken.

"Let him go!" she shouted, stepping forward. "Oh my God, stop! Stop!"

But her voice went unheard, drowned by Steve's determined groan as he staggered back to his feet, raising his fists in front of him. His face was bloodied, his lip split, but his eyes were fierce with stubborn resolve.

"I can do this all day," Steve breathed, his voice weak but filled with that characteristic grit. Before Jen could get closer, the thug's fist connected again, and Steve crumpled to the ground.

"Steve!" she cried, rushing toward him.

Before she could reach him, a familiar voice cut through the tension, smooth and confident.

"Hey!" The thug turned to the source of the voice, but before he could react, he was yanked backward. "Pick someone your own size."

Jen's heart skipped as Bucky Barnes stepped into view, pulling the attacker away from Steve and tossing him aside as if he weighed nothing. His sharp blue eyes were alight with annoyance, though there was a playful edge to his tone as he turned to Steve, half-smirking.

"Sometimes I think you like getting punched."

Steve, wincing as he sat up, managed a half-smile. "I had him on the ropes."

Jen sighed, relieved, and knelt next to Steve, helping him to his feet. She gently cupped his face in her hands, tilting his head to get a better look at the damage. Steve was tough, but he still had a habit of getting himself into trouble that his small frame couldn't handle.

"How many times is this?" she asked, her thumb lightly brushing his bruised cheek. "I swear, it's like every week."

Steve shrugged, wiping the blood from his mouth.

"Oh, you're from Paramus now?" echoed playful voice of the other boy.

"What?!" Jen exclaimed, incredulity in her voice as she looked between Steve and Bucky. "Steve! You know it's illegal to lie on the enlistment form."

"And seriously, Jersey?" Bucky chimed in, his grin widening.

"I've got to try something." Steve rolled his eyes. "You got your orders?"

Her eyes widened as she stepped back to take in the sight. It was then that she noticed the crisp uniform, the gleaming buttons, the proud stance. Her heart sank.

"The 107th," Bucky confirmed, standing a little taller as if to hide the weight in his voice. "Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out from England first thing tomorrow."

Bucky turned to her, still grinning, but his expression softened as he caught the look on her face.

Jen's face dropped, and the lump that formed in her throat made it difficult to breathe. She'd known this was coming, of course. Everyone did. But now, faced with the reality of it, the knowledge that Bucky was leaving, her chest tightened in a way she hadn't expected.

"Hey, what's with the face, Doll?" Bucky's voice was soft now as he reached out, his fingers gently grazing her cheek in a comforting gesture. His touch was warm, reassuring, but it did little to ease the tension building inside her.

Jen forced a smile, fighting the sudden rush of emotions. "It's just... I didn't realize it was so soon."

His thumb traced a small circle on her cheek before he dropped his hand. "I'll be back before you know it."

Steve, sensing the shift in the mood, cleared his throat and took a step back. "I should be going."

"Oh no, you don't," Bucky said, a grin spreading across his face again. He slung his arm around both Steve and Jen, pulling them into a tight embrace. "Come on! My last night! We got to get Stevie cleaned up."

"Why?" Jen chuckled despite herself, the tension easing slightly under Bucky's warmth. "Where are we going?"

"Future!" Bucky exclaimed with a wink, his voice full of excitement.

WORLD EXPOSITION OF TOMORROW

Jen couldn't help but laugh. Even in the face of war, Bucky always knew how to lighten the mood. As they made their way down the street, Bucky's arm still wrapped around them, Jen stole a glance at him. His uniform, his grin, the way he walked with confidence—he was the same Bucky she'd always known, but tonight felt different.

The music of Benny Goodman spilled out from the club, the sound of trumpets and saxophones blending into the lively chatter of the young men and women filling the room. It was a night of celebration before the grim reality of war would pull so many away.

The grandeur of the World Exposition of Tomorrow surrounded Jen and Steve, yet for most of the night, their world had been contained within their own little bubble. Jen had always admired Steve for his resilience and quiet strength. He was different from other men—more introspective, more genuine.

However, that night more that any other time, Jen could see the change in his demeanor. He was talking to her, but his gaze shift between Bucky and the other attendees. Bucky was living the life Steve had always dreamed of—a chance to be part of something greater, to serve and fight for a cause, while Steve remained on the sidelines.

It wasn't that any other time Steve was the life of the party. He always knew his place, and it was right where he was now - in the corner. Tonight, though, he seemed to struggle with hiding his true feelings.

They both did.

Jen stood off to the side, her drink in hand, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes, as she watched Bucky on the opposite side of the room, flanked by two girls - the same girls he invited to watch the Stark exhibition with them - hanging onto his every word.

Typical, she thought. Bucky Barnes, ever the ladies' man, with that effortless charm that had girls lining up for his attention. She shook her head, sipping her drink as she leaned against the wall.

She didn't begrudge him. After all, she and Bucky had been friends since they were kids, and she knew him better than anyone. He teased her like a brother, and sometimes, she thought that's all he'd ever see her as. It stung a little, knowing this might be their last night together before he shipped out to the front, but she tried to keep that buried deep down, hidden behind a casual smile.

Steve was next to her, smaller and more reserved, fidgeting in his ill-fitting suit. He gave her a knowing look, his eyes glancing toward Bucky. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine," Jen shrugged, forcing a smile. "Just... making sure he has his fun before we send him off to war."

"You should dance with him," Steve shook his head, giving her a soft nudge.

"He should ask."

"He's been looking your way all night."

She shot him a skeptical look. "Bucky? Please, Steve. He's too busy with—" But before she could finish, Bucky peeled away from the girls, walking straight toward her with that cocky grin plastered on his face.

"Jen," Bucky said smoothly, his voice cutting through the music as he approached. "You gonna hide in the corner all night, or are you gonna come dance with me?"

Her heart skipped a beat, but she kept her composure, arching an eyebrow. "I thought you were busy with... them." she nodded toward the girls still waiting expectantly by the bar.

"They're fine." Bucky glanced back, shrugging with a dismissive grin. With a knee melting smile, the one that always made it impossible to say no, held out his hand. "Come on, Jen. One dance. You can't say no to me, especially tonight."

Jen looked at his hand, then glanced over at Steve, who was standing next to her, looking out of place in the bustling, lively club. His hands were tucked awkwardly into his jacket pockets, his eyes scanning the room like he'd rather be anywhere but there.

"I can't just leave Steve here by himself."

"I'm fine, Jen," he said quickly straightening up. "You go ahead. I was actually just about to head out."

"What?" Bucky's face fell for a moment, then he shook his head, taking a step toward Steve. "You're gonna leave your best pal and the most beautiful girl in the room just like that? Come on, Steve, it's one night. We gotta make the most of it."

"Yeah!" Jen nodded in agreement, turning to Steve with a small, pleading smile. She tried to focus on her other friend, ignoring James's words. "Stay a little longer, Steve. It wouldn't be the same without you."

"No, I'm good," he shook his head. "You know I'm not really cut out for this kind of thing. It's not like I'm dancing."

"We can talk some more," she tried to convince him.

"I had fun with you," he said, referring to their conversations. "Now go and have fun together."

Bucky let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his arm around Steve's shoulders in an overly dramatic show of frustration. "What are you talking about? You've got charm, Stevie. You just need a chance to show it off."

"Please? For me? Just stay for a little while longer." Jen stepped closer, gently resting her hand on Steve's arm.

"For Buck I decided to come here, and for you I decided to go," Steve met her gaze, with a faint smile. "Have fun."

"We want you here. Right, Jen?"

"O course," Jen agreed, her smile soft but insistent. "We're a trio. It doesn't feel right without you."

He looked at them both for a long moment, a flicker of something bittersweet in his eyes. He knew what tonight really meant—Bucky was shipping out tomorrow, and everything would change after that. But Steve had always been more comfortable in the background, and right now, watching Bucky and Jen laugh together, he couldn't help but feel like that's where he belonged.

"I appreciate it," he said, his voice sincere. And because he knew that tonight was important and could change everything between the two of his friends, he voiced his next words."But you two should have your dance. You deserve it."

"Alright, alright. But if you change your mind, you know where to find us." Bucky sighed, shaking his head. "Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

"How can I? Taking all the stupidity with you."

"Are you sure? We can have fun with you," she said, still trying to convince her other friend. "I can dance with him when he gets back."

"Just go," he rolled his eyes. "I just gave you the chance to act on your feelings."

She gasped with a smile and playfully smacked his bony arm. Bucky, seeing the interaction between his friends, stepped closer. He put a hand on Steve's shoulder, pulling him into his arms. She couldn't help but smile at their camaraderie, though her heart ached at the thought of Bucky leaving. She watched as Bucky's expression shifted from playful to sincere.

"Man, that guy's impossible." Barnes said as they watched Rogers walk away.

Jen nodded, staring away for a moment longer before turning back to Bucky and entering the dance again. "Yeah. But you've gotta admire him for it."

"You love that song!" With a dramatic flourish, Bucky straightened his posture, took a deep breath, and started to sing—badly. He mimicked the voice of the crooner on stage, deep and overly smooth.

"Wait!"

"Come on, Doll. One dance. For old time's sake."

Some day, when i'm awfully low,

when the world is cold,

i will feel a glow just thinking of you...

and the way you look tonight.

Smiling widely as she took his hand. Jen was proud that he wanted to dance with her instead some others girls who were looking at them with jealousy.

Yes you're lovely, with your smile so warm

and your cheeks so soft,

there is nothing for me but to love you,

and the way you look tonight.

Bucky led her to the dance floor, the warmth of his palm against hers sending a rush of emotions she didn't quite know how to handle. He pulled her close, and for a moment, the world around them faded away.

With each word your tenderness grows,

tearing my fear apart...

and that laugh that wrinkles your nose,

He sang, swaying them in the rhythm of the music. His voice made Jen laugh out loud with amusement.

it touches my foolish heart.

Lovely ... never, ever change.

keep that breathless charm.

won't you please arrange it?

"You know," Bucky said, suddenly becoming serious, but still smiling looking down. "I never really thanked you. For everything."

Jen tilted her head slightly, frowning. "Thanked me for what?"

"For sticking around," he said quietly, his voice losing some of its usual bravado. "For looking out for Steve. For being here tonight. You're always here when I need you."

Her heart twisted at the sincerity in his voice, and for a brief moment, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was more between them than either of them had realized. But before she could say anything, Bucky's playful grin returned, and he spun her around, making her laugh again.

'cause i love you ... just the way you look tonight.

Mm, mm, mm, mm,

just the way you look to-night.

As the song's slow melody came to an end, the two of them stopped swaying, standing together in the soft light of the club.

"You look lovely tonight, Doll," he said very close to her ear, almost whispered it. "And I love those red lips on you. It suits you."

But then, before she could thank him or even blush, much faster song came in and Bucky started spinning her left and right, making her baby pink dress swirl and her excited laugh escape her lips.

After many dances together, and even more jealous looks thrown at them, another song came to an end. For a moment, Bucky's hand lingered on her waist, and Jen felt the weight of everything unsaid between them.

"Walk you home?" he asked, his voice quieter now, more serious.

She nodded, her heart beating faster.

The streets of Brooklyn were quieter now, the distant hum of the city fading into the cool night air. Bucky walked beside Jen, his hands shoved into his pockets as they made their way down the familiar streets toward her apartment. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft glow on the pavement, and for a while, neither of them spoke.

"I'm gonna miss this," Bucky said eventually, his voice low. "Brooklyn. You. Steve."

"For Goodness sake! You act as if you'll die," Jen replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "You'll comeback."

Bucky stopped, turning to face her. His expression softened as he looked at her, his usual playful smirk replaced by something more vulnerable. The sounds of the city were distant, drowned out by the weight of their conversation as they stood in the quiet, dimly lit street. Jen could see the shift in him—the man who had always been so carefree, now grappling with the reality of war.

"You'll come back," she repeated, her voice firmer this time, as though saying it with more conviction might will it into truth. "Right down this street. I'll be waiting, Bucky. And everyone else too. They'll throw you one of those big, welcome-home parades. You'll be the hero of Brooklyn."

She gestured to the familiar row of brownstones, the stoops where they used to sit on warm summer evenings. "You'll march down this street, head held high, and everyone will be cheering for you."

He raised an eyebrow, his grin returning, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Everyone, huh? Even the old Mrs. Jenkins from down the block?"

Jen smiled, playing along. "Especially her! She'll be waving her flag, shouting the loudest, just to make sure you know how much she missed you. And she will be saying: Oh! James! That sweet man is my neighbor!"

Bucky chuckled, the sound warmer this time, and for a moment, it almost felt like nothing was changing. Like tomorrow, he wouldn't be leaving for war. Like he'd always be here—on this street, teasing her, laughing, making her feel like everything would be okay.

"And you'll be there?" he asked, his voice softer now. "Standing right here, waiting for me?"

"Of course," she said, without hesitation. "I'll be standing right here, Bucky. First in line. The moment I see you coming down this street, I'll be cheering louder than anyone."

Her heart skipped a beat as she said it, the weight of her words settling over her. She would wait, no matter how long it took. She had to believe he would come back, because the alternative was too terrifying to consider.

But Bucky's eyes darkened, the playful spark fading as he studied her face. There was something unreadable in his expression now, something more serious than she had ever seen in him. He hesitated, his hand dropping to his side as if the thought weighing on his mind was too heavy to speak aloud.

"And what if I don't come back?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The question hung in the air between them, cold and real. It was the question neither of them had dared to ask before.

Jen tried to laugh, but the sound was thin, almost brittle against the heaviness that Bucky's question left in the air. She gave him a playful shove, masking the tremor in her voice. "I'll go, find you, and kill you again. You know me—I'm not letting you off that easy."

Bucky chuckled, the tension between them easing slightly. His blue eyes softened with amusement and affection, but there was still that deeper, unspoken fear lurking behind his smile. "You could do that," he said, his voice light, but it didn't stay that way. His expression sobered, and he looked down at the ground before glancing back up at her. "But what if... I really won't come back?"

The weight of them pressed down on Jen's chest like a stone. She could feel her heart hammering, her mind racing with all the terrible possibilities that she had tried to push away. She swallowed, hard. "Don't say that, Bucky," she whispered. "Don't even think it."

"I'm just being real, Jen." His voice was quiet, almost resigned. "This war... it's not like a fight in an alley, where you know the odds, where you can just walk away with a few bruises. People don't always come back."

Jen felt a lump rising in her throat, and she hated it—hated how real his words were, how they echoed the fear that had been gnawing at the edges of her heart since the moment he told her he was shipping out. She hated how smart and serious he suddenly turned.

"You'll come back," she insisted, her voice more forceful than she intended. "You will."

Bucky's eyes softened at her determination, but he didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a small step closer, his gaze fixed on hers, as if searching her face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe hope. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle, but it carried the weight of all the uncertainties that had been brewing inside him.

"You know me, Jen. I'll do everything I can to come back. But... if I don't..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening as though it pained him to say it aloud. "If something happens to me...Don't cry too much after your best friend. Live for both of us."

For a moment, neither of them moved, the weight of the words they didn't say filling the quiet. The truth was, no matter how hard she tried to shut the feeling, that fear now clawed at the surface, pushing her to say something, to do something that might keep him with her just a little longer.

But then Bucky, ever the master of changing the mood, grinned and bumped her shoulder with his. "Enough of the sad stuff. You're supposed to send me off with a smile, Jen, not a frown."

She forced a small laugh, blinking back the sting in her eyes. "Asshole."

They walked the rest of the way to her apartment in silence, but this time it was a more comfortable quiet. The kind that came from years of friendship, from understanding each other without needing to say a word.

When they reached her door, Jen turned to face him, biting her lower lip as she tried to find the right words to say goodbye. The ones she really wanted to say, the ones she'd kept locked away for too long, caught in her throat.

"I—" she started, but Bucky stepped closer before she could finish, his voice cutting through the stillness.

"I'll come back, Jen," he said again, more softly this time. "I swear."

There was a weight behind his words that made her chest tighten, but she managed to smile. "You better. Or I'll come find you myself."

He chuckled at that, shaking his head. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Of course," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Bucky hesitated again, like he wanted to say something more, do something more. But then he leaned down, pressing a light kiss to her nose, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. It wasn't the kind of kiss she'd imagined in her heart, the one filled with the confessions she was too scared to make, but it was enough. It was Bucky.

With a deep, steadying breath, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight, almost desperate embrace. He took a deep breath, trying to take the smell of her perfumes for the future. The warmth of his body against hers was a stark contrast to the cold night air, and Jen could feel the rapid beat of his heart through the fabric of his uniform.

The hug was firm, as if he were trying to hold onto the moment for as long as he could, to draw strength from it. To take her with him. His arms encircled her, holding her close, and Jen felt a rush of emotions flood through her—fear, love, sadness, and an overwhelming need to hold onto this fragile moment with him.

For a long while, they stood there in the quiet street, lost in the comfort of each other's presence. When he pulled back, his eyes lingered on hers for a long moment before he took a step back. As he did, he took her much smaller hand to his lip and before placing the gentlest kiss there, he whispered: "Goodnight, Jen."

Due to his intense eye contact, she almost said nothing at all. But when the well-known teasing smirk started forming on his face, she came back to the reality.

"Goodnight, Bucky," she whispered, watching as he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the street.

"I love you, Doll!" he screamed, empty street echoing his voice. He turned toward her, waving his hand and slowly backing away. "Wait for me!"

Her stupid heart almost jumped out of her chest and ran away with him - or maybe it did. She knew he didn't meant those words like that, but Jen still stood there on the steps of her building with a smile for a long time after he was gone, staring into the empty street where he'd vanished. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fight off the sudden chill that had nothing to do with the cold night air.

Sudden regret washing down her body.

She hadn't said it out loud, looking into his eyes. She hadn't told him how she really felt. And now he was leaving—off to war, off to face things she couldn't even imagine. And she didn't know if she'd ever get the chance to tell him.

With a heavy sigh, she turned and went inside, the echo of Bucky's promise still ringing in her ears.

She sat down at her desk, took out a piece of paper and started writing what her heart was screaming for a while now.

Clinging to their last night, because it was all she had.

l

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [20] THE END

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: The group has to deliver Maggie to the Hilltop, but the sudden encounter on the road makes it difficult.

Words: 8.597

Warnings: violence, guns, death, language, thinking about death

A/N: THE END! So, I have a feeling it’s off let me know of you liked the chapter. Soon we���re entering another era full of surprises and plot twists!

The next day, the sun was bright, and the air was crisp as Charlie pushed Judith's stroller along the path through Alexandria. It was as if the tragedy of the previous day hadn't left a permanent scar. The world seemed strangely normal, as if trying to lull them all into a false sense of security. The baby gurgled happily, her chubby hands reaching up, trying to grasp at the patches of sunlight that filtered through the swaying leaves above them. Charlie's heart filled with warmth at the sight. Judith's innocence was a rare, precious moment of peace in a life that felt like it was constantly teetering on the edge of chaos.

As they continued walking, the familiar roar of a motorcycle engine echoed through the air, shattering the illusion of calm.

Her heart lurched in her chest. She quickened her pace, pushing the stroller down the path towards the noise, dread pooling in her stomach. Rounding the corner, she spotted Daryl at the gate, straddling his bike. His face was set in a determined, almost defiant expression. She could tell immediately—he was heading out.

Rosita, standing nearby on watch, was the first to confront him. "Where are you going?" she asked sharply, suspicion lacing her voice.

"Out," Daryl replied, his tone clipped and short, barely sparing her a glance as he pushed the gate open.

Rosita wasn't letting it go that easily. She stepped closer, her expression hardening. "No shit. You got specifics?"

Daryl's jaw tightened, his eyes darkened. He said nothing, his focus entirely on the road ahead. As he revved his engine, preparing to take off, Charlie hurried over, her pulse racing.

"What the hell are you doing, Daryl?" she demanded, her voice tinged with fear and frustration. She knew his stubbornness too well, but this time, it felt like a line was being crossed—one that could lead to something catastrophic.

"Not your business," Daryl shot back, his voice cold, eyes blazing with barely-contained anger.

"It is my business!" Charlie shouted, her hand latching onto his arm before he could pull away. The desperation in her voice cut through the tension. "What are you even going to do out there? You can't do this alone!"

He yanked his arm free from her grasp, his expression hardened, but his eyes flickered with something—pain, guilt, something she couldn't quite place.

Glenn and Michonne, who had been lingering nearby, exchanged a quick glance. They knew what was coming; they'd seen it before—Daryl was about to spiral, and someone needed to stop him before he did something reckless.

"We're not letting him go out there alone," Glenn said, his voice low but decisive. He opened the car door parked nearby, the sound of the engine clicking to life as Michonne nodded in silent agreement, sliding into the passenger seat.

Charlie, her heart thudding in her chest, wasn't about to be left behind. "I'm coming with you," she insisted, moving to follow them. Her resolve was clear—she wasn't going to sit back while the people she cared about ran headfirst into danger.

Before she could reach the car, Rosita stepped in front of her, blocking her path with a firm hand on her chest. "No, you're not," she said, her tone sharp, eyes burning with authority.

Charlie glared at her, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I can't just sit here and do nothing! I have to help!"

Rosita's expression softened, but only slightly. She shook her head, her voice gentler this time, though still firm. "You need to stay here. Take care of Judith. If something happens... if something goes wrong out there, we need you here. She needs you."

Charlie clenched her jaw, knowing Rosita was right, but hating every second of it. The thought of being left behind while the others faced whatever was out there gnawed at her. But Rosita's words struck home—Judith needed her. They needed her.

With a sigh, Charlie stepped back, resigned. Rosita gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning back to the car. Glenn and Michonne nodded at her, a silent promise in their eyes that they'd bring Daryl back. They were family—whether they said it aloud or not.

The car's engine roared to life, tires crunching against the gravel as it sped off through the gates, disappearing down the road in pursuit of Daryl.

The gates groaned shut behind them, and the silence that followed felt heavy, oppressive. Charlie stood there for a long moment, watching the dust settle in the car's wake, her heart still racing despite the calm.

With a soft sigh, she turned back to Judith, the baby now babbling contentedly in the stroller, completely unaware of the danger her world was steeped in. Charlie knelt beside her, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face

Her mind raced as she handed Judith to Carl. Her hands shook slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. The sun was bright, but it did nothing to ease the growing knot of anxiety in her stomach. Daryl was stubborn, and when he set his mind on something, there was little anyone could do to stop him. The thought of him riding off into danger alone twisted her insides.

"Take care of her, Carl," she said, her voice steady but filled with an urgency that belied her calm exterior. Carl nodded, his expression serious as he adjusted Judith in his arms.

"You going after him?" Carl asked, sensing her unease.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Charlie admitted, her gaze fixed on the direction Daryl had gone. Her feet itched to follow, but Rosita's words echoed in her mind: Judith needs you.

But Daryl needed her too, didn't he? Or at least someone to keep him from throwing himself into a fight he couldn't win.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she ran through the community, searching for Rick. She knew that if anyone could help bring Daryl back, it was Rick. She hoped fervently that he would understand the gravity of the situation and join her in the pursuit.

As she rounded a corner, she spotted Rick talking with Tobin near one of the construction sites. Without slowing down, she continued running, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. "Rick!" she called out, her breath coming in shallow bursts. Desperation coated her voice, but before she could even reach him, she heard another voice.

"Charlie!" Andy's voice cut through the air, and when she looked back, he was running after her, his brows knitted in concern. "What's going on?!"

But Charlie didn't stop. She couldn't. Without answering, she broke into another sprint, the panic bubbling in her chest. She had to find a way to help. She had to reach Rick before it was too late.

"Rick, I took over at 12, I was on till 6," Charlie heard Sasha as she was coming closer. "I never saw anything."

"Front's been quiet since the others left," Abraham said.

"What? Who?" Rick furrowed his eyebrows.

"Daryl," Charlie gasped, her chest heaving as she skidded to a stop behind Rick and Tobin. "He's going after the Saviors from yesterday. Glenn, Michonne, and Rosita—they all went to stop him."

"Wait, Rosita?" Andy's voice cracked with panic, his eyes widening in shock. He caught up to her, his breaths ragged from running. The fear in his voice was palpable, sending a jolt of anxiety through Charlie. His concern for Rosita mirrored her own for Daryl.

Rick's face hardened, his jaw clenched as he processed the information. But before he could speak, Tobin stepped in, trying to focus on the logistics. "Where's the car? We added two more between the houses, right?"

"You can barely see them," Charlie replied automatically, her mind racing. "Especially at night."

She felt a wave of confusion wash over her. Why was Tobin talking about cars all of a sudden? The urgency of Daryl's situation seemed far more pressing. She glanced back at Rick, whose focus was now split between Tobin and the not expected crisis.

"Can I see the note?" Morgan asked, startling Charlie with his mysterious presence.

"What note?" she furrowed her eyebrows.

"You haven't seen any highlights? She's smart enough to cover her tracks," Rick said.

"She must have left during the shift change."

"Who?" she asked again.

"Where are you going?" Rick asked Morgan.

The group turned to look at Morgan, who was striding purposefully towards another parked car. His face was set in a determined expression, his staff gripped tightly in his hand."I'm gonna go find her!"

"Rick!" Charlie yelled in frustration, felling confused because clearly they weren't talking about the same situation.

"Carol's gone," he explained briefly, and looked at Morgan once again. "Wait for me!"

Charlie felt a knot tighten in her stomach. The sudden revelation added another layer of urgency and complexity to their already fraught situation. She exchanged a quick glance with Sasha and Abraham, their shared concern reflected in their expressions.

"I'm going with you!" she offered.

"No," Rick shook his head. "Tell Carl I'll be back soon. No one else leaves."

"Rick!"

"Everyone else stays ready for a fight."

Charlie bit her lip, torn between her desire to support Rick's decision and her concern for Carol and Morgan. Sasha stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"We'll find them," he reassured her, his voice steady and confident.

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing thoughts. She knew Rick was right—they couldn't afford to split their efforts any further. Daryl's safety depended on their united focus.

The faint sound of scissors clipping through hair echoed softly in the small space. Charlie quietly entered the room, her footsteps muffled against the wooden floor. She found Enid standing behind Maggie, carefully trimming her hair, their faces serious with concentration.

Maggie glanced up as Charlie approached, offering a faint smile of acknowledgment before returning her gaze to the small mirror in front of her. Charlie leaned against the doorway, watching silently as Enid continued her task with meticulous care.

Girl's dark hair fell neatly around her face, framing piercing eyes that held a hint of guardedness, a reflection perhaps of the hardships she had endured.

"How do I look?"Maggie asked, turning to face Charlie, her new hair framing her face in a way that reminded Charlie of the days back on the farm.

A pang of nostalgia mixed with concern crossed Charlie's face as she frowned slightly, memories of the farm flooding back.

"You don't like it."

"I like it," she said immediately. "You look like the day we met...But why?"

"I have to keep going," Maggie answered, looking at her. "And I don't want anything getting in my way."

Suddenly, Maggie screamed in pain, doubling over as a sharp cry escaped her lips. The sound pierced the calm atmosphere, sending a jolt of alarm through Charlie and Enid.

"Maggie?" Charlie frowned.

"Did I get it too short?" Enid asked, suspecting hormones of a pregnant woman for the sudden outburst.

"No, it's not that," Maggie groaned.

"Maggie!" Charlie rushed forward, her heart racing with fear. She grabbed Maggie's shoulders, trying to steady her friend. "What's wrong? What is it?"

Her face contorted in agony, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. "The baby...something's wrong," she managed to say between breaths, her voice trembling with fear and pain.

"Hey. Hey," she kneeled in front of her as she fell from the chair. "Enid go tell somebody we need help!"

Enid hesitated for a moment, her eyes wide with fear, but quickly turned and sprinted out of the room. Maggie's screams of pain filled the air, echoing off the walls and heightening the sense of urgency.

"Hang in there, Maggie," Charlie pleaded, her hands trembling as she tried to support her friend.

The urgency of Maggie's condition had forced Rick - who just returned to Alexandria - to make a swift decision. The best and only chance for Maggie and her baby lay at the Hilltop, where they had access to a more established medical facility and the expertise of Dr. Carson.

"You got room for more people," said Abraham approaching the RV with Sasha and Eugene. "They're put there, so I'm gonna be there with you...We are."

"Package deal," Sasha nodded.

Rick sighed heavily, knowing very well that there was no way of convincing them to stay.

"Uh, what she said," Eugene said.

Rick looked at Charlie, who met his gaze with a shrug of her shoulders. He offered a reassuring smile and shook his head, a gesture of both amusement and understanding at the tension around them.

"You're not stopping me!" yelled Andy, who approached the RV with his small backpack. "Even Carl is going!" he said, glancing at the young boy who was entering the van with a determined look.

Carl gave Andy a cold, dismissive but in a friendly way, glance before shutting the van door behind him.

"Any problems?" Rick interrupted, noticing Andy's agitation.

"I don't want to stay," Andy said, his voice tinged with frustration. "It's pointless."

"Look, it's not up for discussion. It's not a school trip."Rick remained firm.

Andy, clearly resolved, shot back, "Then you're just gonna have to punch me in the face and tie me up, because that's what it's gonna take to stop me."

"It's a bad idea," Charlie stepped in, her tone both serious and sardonic. "He's going only because he thinks we will find Rosita."

Rick raised an eyebrow, glancing between Andy and Charlie. "So you want to argue with him?"

"No," Charlie said, her voice resolute. "I want to punch him in the face and tie him up."

Rick chuckled, a brief moment of levity amidst the tension. As if it wasn't enough, right after Andy entered RV, Gabe approached to the two of them.

"We have 24-hour shifts set up on each of the watchtowers, each one fully supplied and ready," he reported. "In the case that we are incurred upon, we have drivers assigned, evacuation and distraction plans, and the rendezvous points we discussed. In the event of any emergency, my first priority is Judith. I will not fail you."

"You better not," Charlie said, her voice steady but filled with underlying concern.

He gave her small smile as an answer, but turned to the leader. "Are you comfortable leaving me in charge of Alexandria's defense?"

"Absolutely not," Charlie replied, her tone reflecting her deep-seated anxiety.

Rick chuckled softly. "Yes."

After collecting necessary supplies, weapon, and people who barely fit the car, they were finally ready to go. In the moment she thought it's the moment they would drive off, Spencer called out, "Hey, Rick! If Saviors do show up... I'm thinking, if it's not too late, should we try and make some kind of deal?"

"You're not making any deals with murderers." Rick's face hardened.

Spencer's expression shifted, confusion and frustration evident. "We did with you."

"What did you say?" Charlie snapped back, ready to jump out of the RV and talk with Spencer in the only way he understood. Violence.

Rick then cut off any further discussion, holding her arm. "Tell them to wait for me. I have a deal for them."

Charlie shot a glance at Spencer, her eyes reflecting her own frustration with the situation, giving him a sign that she will end him when the right moment comes. She then turned back to Rick.

"Let's go!"

With that, the group prepared to head out, the weight of their decisions and the looming danger pressing heavily on them all.

Time seemed to blur as they continued their journey in the van, the rhythmic hum of the engine mingling with the occasional groans of pain from Maggie. Charlie stayed by her side, her hand clasping Maggie's in a show of silent support. The interior of the van was dimly lit, casting shadows that danced across their faces as the vehicle bumped along the road.

Maggie's face was still pale, her brow damp with sweat. Her breathing had stabilized somewhat, but the worry etched into her features remained. Charlie squeezed her hand gently, offering what little comfort she could.

"We're gonna get there and Carson is going to make things better."

"How do you know?" Maggie asked with a weak voice.

"We did impossible things together. Everything what we’ve done, we did together," she answered. "We got here together and we're still here. Things have happened, but it's always worked out for us. As long as it's all of us, we can do anything."

Charlie was with Maggie all the time, not stepping away from her, as her promise to Glenn still lingered at the back of her head. She tried to comfort the pregnant woman, caressing her hair, squeezing hand, and humming a lullaby, so she could relax just a bit.

The van suddenly came to a stop, jostling them slightly. Charlie felt her heart rate spike as she glanced towards the front. Rick and the others were already out and on high alert, scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger.

"Why did we stop?" Maggie asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"I don't know," Charlie shook her head, trying to reassure Maggie beside her. "But don't worry."

Maggie nodded weakly, her face pale with pain and anxiety.

The cold air hit her as she stepped outside, making her skin prickle. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she walked toward the front of the RV, her senses on high alert. She slowly approached her group, standing next to Andy who was squeezing his hand around a gun.

A group of people stood at the end of the road in a save distance, where they couldn’t reach each other but heard every word. They were quiet, unnervingly so, and standing among them was a man—on his back, his face battered, dirt clinging to his clothes. He wasn’t even bounded or tied, they just let him lay there, like a carpet.

"We can make a deal," Rick called, his hands up in a peaceful gesture."Right here, right now."

“That’s right! We can!” the man said. “Give us all your stuff. We’ll probably have to kill one of you. That’s just the way it is, but then we can start moving forward on business. Just listen.”

“Yeah…” Rick sighed, slowly lowering his arms. “That deal’s not gonna work for us. Fact is, I was about to ask for all of your stuff, only I’m thinking I don’t have to kill any of you,” he said confidently. “Any more of you.”

Rick’s voice dripped with confidence, maybe too much confidence. Charlie could sense the tension mounting in the air as his words hung between them, challenging the group standing in front of them. The silence that followed his declaration was thick, broken only by the faint rustling of the wind through.

Something about the way these men stood, their calm, deliberate movements—it was unsettling, like they weren’t rattled by Rick’s bravado at all.

Then, one of the men stepped forward. He didn’t rush, didn’t flinch, just calmly approached the man on the ground. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a spray can.

The man knelt beside the beaten figure, who barely stirred, too weak or too terrified to move. With a cold, almost mechanical precision, the man shook the can, the soft rattle of the spray echoing in the stillness. And then, without hesitation, he began to write something on the man’s bare belly.

“Sorry, my deal is the only deal,” the voice of the group said. “We don’t negotiate.”

At that, Rick signed to his group and everyone started backing out to come back to the RV.

“Me and my people, we’re leaving.”

“Okay, friend,” the man raised his hand. “Plenty of ways to get to where you’re going.”

The words he spoke were casual, almost friendly, but the undertone was chilling. Charlie’s throat tightened, her palms growing slick with sweat as she watched the exchange.

She glanced at Rick, trying to read his expression, but his face was hard, unreadable. Charlie’s legs felt like they were moving through quicksand as she made her way toward the RV. Her heart raced, and the edges of her vision blurred as adrenaline surged through her veins.

The tension was thick, and the earlier ordeal had only amplified everyone's anxiety. Charlie, clearly drained and filled with worry, walked past Andy on her way to check on Maggie. Noticing her exhaustion, his concern was evident as he reached out to her.

"Hey," he said gently, his voice filled with empathy. "I can go watch over Maggie. You look like you could use a break."

Charlie managed a faint smile, grateful for Andy’s offer but unable to shake off the weight of her concerns. "Thank you, Andy," she replied softly, her voice tinged with weariness.

As the young man passed her with a small smile, she sat down on a bench next to Carl. She sighed heavily.

"Everything will be alright," he said, his words intended to comfort her.

Charlie's expression faltered momentarily, memories flashing through her mind. "The last time we were with a pregnant woman..." she started, her voice trailing off as she glanced at Carl.

Carl's gaze dropped to the ground, understanding the weight of Charlie's unspoken words. The mention of Lori, his mother who died tragically during childbirth, hung heavy in the air between them.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said quickly, regret coloring her voice. She hadn't meant to bring up such a painful memory for Carl.

"It's okay," Carl replied quietly, his tone gentle. "I know what you meant."

Charlie nodded, a wave of guilt and gratitude washing over her at Carl's quiet understanding. She appreciated his steady presence and the maturity he exuded. Resting her head on his shoulder, she found a brief sense of comfort. Carl gave her a small, reassuring smile before shifting his focus to Maggie. Charlie took a deep breath, allowing herself a moment to gather her thoughts, her eyes closing for a second of peace.

"You think we could do it?" It was Abraham's voice that brought her back to reality, and Charlie frowned in confusion but soon realized he wasn't talking to her - he asked Sasha. "What they did. Glenn and Maggie."

Her confusion melted into quiet excitement as she realized what he was asking Sasha. A wave of warmth spread through her, and despite the fear and exhaustion of the day, hope flickered to life.

Before she could process Abraham's words fully, the van abruptly came to another halt, jolting her out of her thoughts. Instinctively, she looked out the front window, her breath catching in her throat as she saw a group of Saviors on bikes blocking their path.

The sight of the Saviors sent a chill down Charlie's spine. She realized that whatever they started, wasn't done. They didn't forget.

"We making our stand?" asked Carl, who was probably sent by Maggie.

"Yeah, we end it."

"No, not now." Rick shook his head, examining situation ahead. "They've been waiting, they're ready. With one of us behind the wheel, that's five on sixteen."

"Rick, what the hell is going on?" asked Charlie with anxiety hitting her hard.

"We're gonna play it the way we want it." he ignored her. "All right, go slow."

The van began to move forward cautiously, inching closer to the group of armed Saviors blocking their path. Charlie gripped the edge of her seat, her heart pounding in her chest as they approached the tense standoff.

Outside, the Saviors watched them with cold, calculating eyes. Charlie could feel their hostility and the threat they posed, but Rick's calm demeanor offered a sliver of reassurance.

Time passed as the group continued their journey towards the Hilltop. Charlie sat near Maggie, her thoughts consumed by worry over the Saviors and the fate of Glenn, Daryl, and Rosita.

As the van rumbled along the road, Charlie's mind raced with questions. Where were Glenn and the others? Were they safe? Did they encounter the same group of Saviors, or were they facing a different threat altogether?

Beside her, Maggie stirred restlessly, a reminder of the urgent need to reach the Hilltop for medical assistance. The uncertainty gnawed at Charlie, but she pushed aside her fears, focusing on the task at hand—supporting Maggie and staying vigilant for any signs of danger on the road ahead.

The landscape passed by in a blur as they traveled through the post-apocalyptic countryside. Charlie kept her eyes peeled for any familiar landmarks or signs of trouble, her senses on high alert.

The van jolted to an abrupt stop, throwing Charlie forward slightly in her seat. Her heart skipped a beat as she gripped the edge of the seat, instinctively bracing herself for what might come next. Around her, the others in the van also reacted with surprise and concern.

"Why are we stopping again."

"I don't know," she whispered scared. "But don't worry. We got this."

"Where are you going?" Maggie asked weakly.

"I'll be right back."

Charlie's footsteps echoed softly on the van's floor as she made her way to the front where Rick sat, his expression grim and focused. The terse exchange had left her with more questions than answers, but the word "Saviors" sent a chill down her spine.

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" Charlie demanded, her voice edged with urgency as she reached Rick's side.

Rick glanced at her briefly, his gaze serious. "They're tracking us," he explained tersely. "The Saviors. They're trying to intercept us before we reach the Hilltop."

Charlie's stomach churned with unease. Encountering the Saviors once again on the road was a scenario she had hoped to avoid, but now they were faced with the harsh reality.

Without another word, Rick pushed open the van's door, and Charlie followed closely behind him, her senses on high alert. The rest of the group emerged cautiously, weapons at the ready as they scanned their surroundings for any sign of movement or danger.

The air was tense with anticipation as they stood by the van, assessing their options. The road stretched ahead, empty and eerily quiet, but Charlie knew that could change in an instant. She stayed close to the van's doors, her eyes scanning the trees and the roadside for any movement.

Charlie's heart pounded as she scanned the surroundings, alert for any sign of danger. The tension in the air was palpable, amplified by the knowledge that the Saviors could be lurking nearby. Suddenly, a sharp crack split the silence, and a bullet struck the ground just inches in front of her legs.

Her breath caught in her throat as adrenaline surged through her veins. Instinctively, she dropped to the ground, seeking cover behind the nearest tree.

"Guys?!"

The sharp crack of gunshots hitting the ground sent a shiver down her spine. She peeked around the tree, eyes scanning for any sign of their attackers. The air was thick with tension, each gunshot a stark reminder of the danger they faced.

"Guys!"

"Get back in the RV!" Rick commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Charlie nodded, keeping low as she scrambled back towards the safety of the RV. Her heart raced with each step, the sound of gunshots still echoing in her ears. She glanced back briefly to ensure everyone was following Rick's orders.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense and claustrophobic. The group gathered, exchanging worried glances as they waited for Rick's next move. The reality of their situation sank in—surrounded by enemies, cut off from escape, and unsure of what the Saviors' next move would be.

Charlie's mind raced as she sank into a seat, exhaustion and worry weighing heavily on her. She glanced across the cramped space of the RV, her eyes settling on Michonne's hair—specifically, one dreadlock cut clean off. It was a subtle detail, but it triggered a realization.

"They were firing at our feet. They blocked the road, but they weren't trying to stop us," Charlie mused aloud, her voice tinged with concern.

Rick turned to her, his expression tight with tension. "What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice low.

"Barton Road takes us north," Charlie replied, her thoughts racing. "But they have to know we want to go north. They're herding us."

Rick's jaw clenched as he absorbed her words. It was a chilling revelation—the Saviors weren't just trying to ambush them; they were directing their movements, controlling their path.

Andy’s urgent voice pierced through the tension inside the RV. "She's burning up,"

"Maggie!" Rick's concern was palpable as he rushed to Maggie's side.

Charlie hurried over, her heart racing with fear for her friend. "Are we close?" Maggie asked weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"We... We're getting there," Charlie reassured her, her voice steady despite the turmoil.

"Were there... I heard shots," Maggie murmured, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Yeah, Saviors," Rick confirmed grimly. "But they're gone now. We're going to get you to the Hilltop."

"I know," Maggie nodded faintly, her eyes drifting shut for a moment.

"The baby is going to be okay," Charlie assured her, her voice unwavering with determination. "Rick is doing everything he can."

"I believe in him," Maggie whispered softly, her trust in Rick evident even in her weakened state.

Charlie glanced back at Rick, who stood with a furrowed brow and eyes filled with concern. She saw the weight of responsibility he carried, not just for Maggie and the baby, but for the entire group relying on him for guidance and protection.

"We're going to make it," Charlie said, more to herself than anyone else, a silent prayer for reassurance.

Rick met her gaze briefly, a flicker of determination passing between them before he turned back to check on Maggie.

The RV came to an abrupt stop once again, and Charlie's heart sank. She peered out the window, her eyes widening as she saw yet another roadblock—a formidable wall of wood and debris blocking their path. The Saviors had anticipated their every move, and the realization of just how trapped they were hit hard.

Charlie stepped out of the RV, her heart pounding in her chest. The oppressive darkness of the woods seemed to close in around her, and a deep-seated fear gripped her. The night was eerily silent, the only sounds being the faint rustling of leaves and the distant hoots of owls.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud. Something had fallen from the bridge above. Charlie's breath caught in her throat as she instinctively looked up. Her eyes widened in horror.

Dangling from a chain was a man, his lifeless body swaying gently. The sight was gruesome enough, but what truly chilled Charlie was the large orange X painted on his shirt, standing out starkly against the dark surroundings. The symbol felt like a grim message, a sign of the Saviors' relentless grip on their fate.

The sight of the man hanging from the bridge, coupled with the relentless pressure of the Saviors, sent her into a spiral of panic. Her vision blurred, and her chest tightened as thoughts of Glenn and Daryl, still out there and possibly in danger, overwhelmed her.

She sank to her knees next to the RV, struggling to catch her breath. The fear and worry clawed at her insides, making it impossible to think clearly. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to steady the trembling that had taken over her body.

"Hey, hey," Abraham's deep voice cut through the fog of panic. He crouched down next to her, his large hand resting gently on her shoulder. "You're all right. Just breathe, Charlie. In and out, nice and slow."

She tried to focus on his words, but the images of the man with the orange X and the unknown fate of Glenn and Daryl kept flashing in her mind. Her breath hitched, and she gasped for air, tears streaming down her face. "Glenn."

"Look at me," Abraham said firmly, his voice steady and reassuring. "You're stronger than this. We've been through hell and back, and we're still standing. You're still standing."

Charlie forced herself to meet his eyes, grounding herself in the calm, determined expression he wore. She tried to mimic his slow, deep breaths, willing herself to focus on the present moment.

"She needs you. Carl and Judith need you. I need you," he said. "We need you, now."

Just as Charlie began to regain her composure, the smell of smoke hit her nostrils. She looked up, eyes wide with alarm, as the surrounding woods were suddenly illuminated by an orange glow. The crackling sound of flames quickly followed, and within moments, the forest was engulfed in fire. Panic surged through the group as they realized the gravity of the situation. The Saviors were here, and they were making it clear that there was no escape.

"You're treating your people good, right?" said the voice from behind the wooden pile. "Like it was your last day on Earth? Or maybe one of theirs? You better go! It's gonna get hot! You go get where you're going!"

The ginger man was quick to pick up Charlie from the ground as if she was less than a doll. She stumbled slightly, her legs shaky from exhaustion and fear, but she managed to regain her footing with Abraham's support. The thick smoke and the intense heat from the fire had left her disoriented, and she was grateful for his assistance.

As Charlie stepped inside, she felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She glanced around, her eyes meeting Sasha's.

Sasha's gaze softened as she took in Charlie's appearance. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face streaked with tears and sweat. Her hands were trembling, despite her best efforts to steady them.

"Charlie," she gasped.

She caught Sasha's eye and brought a finger to her lips, silently asking for quiet. Sasha nodded in understanding, her expression serious.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as the RV continued its trek toward the Hilltop. Charlie sat quietly, her thoughts consumed with worry. Carl had his arm around her shoulder, offering silent support. It was a small comfort, but one she desperately needed. But her mind kept drifting back to Glenn and Daryl. Were they safe? Where were they now? She had no answers, and the uncertainty gnawed at her.

"So, what's the play?" Abraham's question brought her focused towards the group.

"She needs a doctor," Charlie said.

"There're two more routes north from here,"

"They're probably waiting for us right now."

"So they're ahead of us, probably behind us, but they're not waiting on us, per se," Eugene said. "They're waiting on this rust bucket. They don't know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust bucket." he explained his rush of thoughts. "And the sun sets soon."

Charlie's heart raced as the gravity of their situation became clearer. The Saviors were herding them, like sheep to the slaughter. But they were following the RV, not them.

They decided to go along with the plan that Eugene started. Maggie was carried by them through the woods as it was the only way to get to the Hilltop. Charlie clutched Maggie's hand tightly as they walked through the darkened woods. The forest was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze and their steps. Her mind was racing, grappling with the realization that had struck her like a lightning bolt.

Her eyes wandered to the boy across from her. In the shadow of everything that happened from the farm and the fast peace of it, she didn't notice how Carl had changed. Or maybe his physical changes overshadowed his other changes. She remembered him as a boy who had struggled with the harsh lessons of survival, often headstrong and impulsive.

But now, he was calm. His every action well thought through. Charlie couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. He became a man, capable of making his own choices and owning his mistakes. She saw a future leader in him.

Then, a sudden realization hit her like a thunder in a tree. The whole Alexandria's community lived in fear for the past days, afraid that one day they will wake up and see the Saviors on their doorstep. But they never came, which was pushing them further into fear and panic. They were way smarter and brighter than all of them thought. The Saviors weren't just ruthless murderers like the Wolves.

Negan knew the group would leave the save walls of Alexandria sooner or later, so they waited patiently mastering the plan - brilliant from the point of view of a strategic.

The Saviors didn't want only Rick. They didn't want a Daryl, a Carol, or a Andy. For what the Survivors group did, for the amount of people they killed, Negan wanted as many of them as he could get. What he needed was a bait. Something that would lure them into a trap.

Maggie's condition? Coincidence.

But as she was thinking about it...Denise might have not been just a random victim of a dangerous game they were playing. She was something more. Something that would start the engine of destruction. The Saviors knew that there was at least one person who would care about her. A person, who would move the Earth and the Sky to get a revenge for her death.

Daryl happened to be one.

He acted exactly how they wanted. Taking more people with him. Michonne, Rosita, Glenn.

Glenn...

But then Charlie realized one more thing, words of an unknown man echoed through her head. For the whole day they were playing along with Negan and his people, they were exactly where they expected them. What if they weren't just blocking the way to the Hilltop? What if it was something more?

"Rick," Charlie said. "Rick it's a..."

And she couldn't finish her sentence to inform that it was all a trap.

But before she could finish her warning, a series of high-pitched whistles cut through the air. The group tried to run away from the sound, but they were immediately surrounded by blinding lights and the harsh sounds of armed men converging on them.

"Glad you made it," the man said. "Welcome to where you were going."

The night was cold and unforgiving, the ground beneath Charlie's knees felt like ice. Each deep breath she took to calm her shaking insides, seemed to pierce her from the inside. Charlie kneeled next to Abraham, their faces illuminated by the harsh light of the Saviors' cars lights. She looked around, seeing all her other friends next to her, facing their RV. Andy was next to Carl, both of them shaking in a cold air. Next to her, Maggie, who could not see tomorrow if she was kept like that some more. Even Eugene was already captured, kneeling at the end of the lineup.

The only comfort she had was knowing that Daryl, Rosita, and especially Glenn were somewhere safe, possibly hiding. But as soon as this thought was formed, her bubble broke.

The sound of Glenn's voice cut through the night air. His cry for Maggie and Charlie filled with panic. Right behind him, from the truck, walked out Michonne, Rosita, and Daryl. The sight of everyone made her throat tighten, for the first time feeling more miserable at their sight. Charlie wanted to cry, but she forced herself to stay strong.

"Let's meet the man!" yelled the man they met on the road, as he approached the doors to the RV.

Tall and imposing, his presence commanded immediate attention. He wore a leather jacket that seemed to absorb the dim light, the collar turned up slightly against the cold. His hair was dark and slicked back, and he wielded a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire—a grotesque trophy of his power. A smirk played at the corners of his mouth, a mixture of menace and twisted amusement.

Despite the fear and anger swelling inside her, she could see the way his followers moved, their demeanor. They weren't just there out of fear; there was a palpable respect in their eyes, an acknowledgment of his power and authority.

His presence was magnetic, and even amidst the chaos, it was impossible to ignore him. Negan was a figure who wielded influence like a weapon. And right now she couldn't decide what was more powerful- his bat or his power.

"We pissing our pants yet?" was the first words spoken by him. "Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close. Gonna be Pee-Pee-Pants City here real soon," he made a joke, and chuckled under his nose. Negan then scanned the group with a critical eye, his gaze landing on each person as if sizing them up. "Which one of you pricks is the leader?"

"It's this one."

"Hi. You're Rick, right? I'm Negan," he introduced himself. "And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool...Not cool," he said. "You have no idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly. You are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes."

Charlie watched Negan with a sickening sense of dread. His swagger, the way he wielded Lucille, and the casual way he spoke about their impending regret—it all painted a clear picture of the kind of man he was. His entire demeanor was designed to instill fear, to make sure everyone knew he was in control and that defiance would be met with brutal consequences.

"You are, Rick, whatever you do, no matter what, you don't mess with new world order. New world order is this, and it's really very simple. So, even if you're stupid, which you very may well be, you can understand it."

Negan's smile was unsettling, as if he took pleasure in the chaos he was about to unleash. The way he swung Lucille, the casual flicker of menace in his eyes—Charlie could see how Negan's presence alone was meant to break spirits. Rick's flinch confirmed the gravity of the situation, the reality of their powerlessness in the face of such a figure.

There was no plan. No miracle that would save them. Rick was giving into the power of Negan.

"Here it goes..." he smiled again. "Give me your shit or I will kill you. Today was Career Day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now."

"You built something. You thought you're safe. I get it," Negan nodded his head. "But you're not safe. Not even close. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So if someone knocks on your door, you let us in. We own that door. You understand? What? No answer?"

His eyes swept over the group, waiting for a response that wasn't coming. The weight of his statement hung heavily in the cold night air. Charlie's mind raced, trying to process the full extent of their predicament.

"You don't really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished, did you?" he asked, but no one answered him once again. "I don't want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're dead, now, can you?"

Charlie could feel the cold knot of fear tightening in her stomach. Negan's casual demeanor only made the situation more chilling. It was clear that while he might not want to kill them outright, he was perfectly willing to use terror and violence to get what he wanted.

"But you killed my people. A whole damn lot of them. More than I'm comfortable with," he shook his head still smiling. "And for that, for that you're gonna pay. So now...I'm gonna beat the holy hell out of one of you."

Out of everyone present, she was ready for death. Charlie had found her closure, lived her life with a sense of fulfillment, and now, she was prepared to face the end. If it had to be someone, let it be her. She braced herself, accepting her fate as the cold reality of the moment pressed in on her.

"This...This is Lucille, and she is awesome. All this...All this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor."

The irony in his voice was thick, a twisted sense of entertainment in his actions.

As Negan stood, Charlie's gaze shifted instinctively to the ground, unable to meet his eyes. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on her shoulders. Abraham, standing straight next to her, braced himself, while Charlie watched the scene unfold with a mix of dread and resignation. She could feel the intensity of Negan's presence, the tension in the air, and the palpable fear from everyone around her. Even as she struggled to maintain her composure

"Je-sus! You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now," Negan said as he stopped in front of Maggie.

"No. No! NO," Glenn screams and tries to hit Negan.

"Stop it!"

Charlie's heart pounded in her chest as Glenn's desperate cries echoed through the night. She squeezed Maggie's hand tightly, trying to offer some form of comfort despite the overwhelming fear that gripped her.

It couldn't be Glenn.

"Nope," Negan said. "Nope. Get him back in line."

She watched as Glenn was forcibly restrained, his sobs a heartbreaking soundtrack to the chaos. It only brought smile to Negan's face.

"Don't any of you do that again. I will shut your shit down, no exceptions. First one's free, it's an emotional moment. I get it," he warned and moved on. He stopped in front of Rick. "Sucks, don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit." Negan asked and then he walked past him. "This is your kid, right?"

Charlie's fear intensified. Her eyes widened in panic, and her breath caught in her throat. The sight of Negan's imposing figure looming over Carl filled her with a cold, paralyzing dread.

"No." she whispered.

"This is definitely your kid."

Charlie's hands trembled as she tried to steady herself, but the overwhelming fear made it impossible to look away. The paralyzing feeling about the boy - her boy, made her do something very stupid. But before she even thought, her mouth was already opened. "Just stop this!"

"Hey! Do not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don't make it easy on me." he answered Charlie. "I got to pick somebody."

Negan began to whistle, the sound echoing eerily in the tense silence. As he walked along the line of captives, Charlie's body tensed with every step he took. The rhythmic, unsettling tune seemed to amplify the fear in the air. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to be invisible, hoping that her earlier outburst wouldn't seal anyone's fate.

"I simply cannot decide," he chuckled as he was looking at their faces. "I got an idea. Eeny...Meeny...Miney..."he said and with each word he was pointing at different person.

The words of the rhyme seemed to stretch out forever, each syllable like a nail in a coffin.

When Negan's finger finally landed on her, Charlie's world narrowed to a single point of excruciating clarity. She closed her eyes slowly, her mind racing through every memory, every regret, and every hope she'd had.

As she braced herself for the inevitable, she clutched Maggie's hand even tighter, hoping that her sacrifice would at least mean something in this cruel game.

"Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to the father!" Negan warned. "You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you're all gonna be doing that."

Suck my nuts.

Charlie's eyes were still tightly shut, her mind desperately trying to block out the reality of what was happening. The sickening thud of the bat hitting flesh was followed by screams and guttural grunts from Negan.

She slowly opened her eyes, affraid what she would see as her gaze shifted slowly to the side, her eyes locking onto Abraham's lifeless body. The blood was everywhere, seeping into the ground and staining her own clothes, making her feel nauseous and disoriented.

She didn't hear anything anymore. Too focused on Abraham's still form, the once strong and imposing figure. Charlie's stomach churned as she fought back the urge to vomit, her whole body trembling from the shock and the sheer horror of what she had witnessed. She felt utterly numb, the weight of the tragedy pressing down on her with a suffocating intensity.

"Take a look," Negan said to someone. "He took one, or six or seven for the team! So take a damn look!"

Charlie's head jerked up at the sound of commotion. Through the haze of her own grief and shock, she saw Daryl lunging forward, fists clenched, striking Negan with a raw, furious energy.

"Daryl!" Charlie tried to call out, but her voice came out as a mere, hoarse whisper, barely audible over the chaos.

"No!" Negan yells and points his bat at her. "That is a no-no. Anyway...Now, I already told you people...first one's free. Then...What did I say?" he asked, but again no one answered him. "I said I would shut that shit down! No exceptions. I'm a man of my word. I need you go know me. So...back to it."

Her eyes widened.

Her heart felt as if it was being wrenched from her chest.

Each swing of Lucille was accompanied by the sickening crunch of bone. In horror, she looked how blood was running down his face, that once was offering her a comfort. Now, he looked like from the worst horror. Without noticing, hot tears started to escaping from Charlie's eyes.

"I can see it's hard on you guys," Negan said in a voice full of compassion. "I'm sorry. I really am. But I did say...No exceptions!"

It was as if time had slowed, dragging every second into an eternity. Charlie's vision blurred with tears, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. She heard nothing. No Negan, no Maggie, nothing. All she could was feel, each hit like a knife twisting deeper into Charlie's already shattered heart.

Her hands trembled as they touched the cold, wet ground, feeling the sticky mix of blood and remnants of Abraham beneath her fingers. She barely registered the sensation, her mind numb. The crushing weight of despair pressed down on her, eclipsing any other sensation or thought. The pain was so deep it transcended physical suffering, leaving her in a state of numb, relentless mourning. Negan took the person who saved her, without the chance to save him.

He killed her.

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [19] THE NIGHT BEFORE THE END

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: The night after the tragedy everyone tries to cope with what had happened.

Words: 2.522

Warnings: drinking, talking about death

The community was quiet, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of recent events. In a small, secluded part of the graveyard, Andy sat on the ground, staring at the simple wooden plank that marked Denise's grave. His expression was a mixture of sorrow and regret, his eyes unfocused as he replayed memories of their last moments together.

The soft crunch of footsteps on the grass caught Andy's attention, and he looked up, his gaze meeting hers with surprise and vulnerability.

Her own heart ached for him, and she felt a pang of guilt for their earlier argument. This was not the time for the negative emotions; it was a time for empathy and understanding. She approached him with a measured step, trying to balance her concern with the need to respect his space.

The silence between them was heavy, filled only by the distant sounds of Alexandria settling down for the night. Charlie could feel the tension radiating from Andy, and it was clear that he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. When he finally spoke, his voice was calmer than she had expected. "I'm sorry," said Andy. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Charlie shook her head, her eyes soft with understanding. "It's okay. Let's not talk about it anymore."

Andy's eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, she saw something other than grief in them—perhaps a glimmer of gratitude or relief. She could feel the emotional weight of the moment pressing down on her.

"She didn't deserve this," Charlie said quietly, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat.

"No, she didn't," Andy agreed, his gaze fixed on the simple marker of Denise's grave. There was a palpable sadness in his voice, a heaviness that spoke of unspoken regrets and what-ifs.

"She was a good person," Charlie added, trying to offer some semblance of comfort. Her thoughts drifted to the times she had interacted with Denise—her kindness, her courage, and the hope she had brought.

"I keep thinking... if I'd been there... if I'd said something different, done something different..."

"We all feel that way, Andy," she said. "But it wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. It's just how it is."

Her words were meant to offer solace, but she knew that understanding and acceptance were not so easily granted. Andy's eyes held hers, and in that brief moment, she saw a flicker of something that softened the edge of his grief—maybe a sense of relief.

He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension eased. "I miss her," he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Without a word, she shifted closer and gently placed her arms around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace. The gesture was simple, but it was filled with the warmth and support that words alone could not convey.

Andy didn't resist; he simply leaned into her, his sobs becoming louder as he clung to her for support. Charlie held him close. She stroked his back soothingly, her presence a steady anchor in the midst of his storm.

As they sat there together, the night deepening around them, Charlie's presence was a comforting reminder that they weren't alone.

The moon cast a silvery glow over Alexandria as Charlie made her way to the watchtower. The cool night air brushed against her skin, contrast to the heated emotions of the day. She needed a moment of solitude, a chance to clear her mind and focus on something other than grief and guilt. And the task she had now was perfect to do just that.

As she climbed the ladder to the watchtower, Charlie's thoughts raced. Denise's death was the last thing they all needed at the moment. She wondered if there had been something she could have done differently, if she could have changed the outcome. Unconsciously, she wondered how things would be if she went with Daryl instead of Denise. Her thoughts turned to Andy and Rosita, and the relationship they shared.

In her heart was a storm, but right now, she needed to focus on her role here.

Reaching the top, Charlie saw Sasha's silhouette against the night sky. Sasha turned as she heard another person approach, offering a small, sympathetic smile. "Hey," Sasha greeted, stepping aside to let Charlie take her place.

"Hey," Charlie replied, her voice carrying a note of resignation. She settled into the chair and glanced out at the quiet perimeter. "It seems everyone knows," she said, her tone tinged with frustration. "Daryl made sure of it."

Sasha's expression softened with understanding. "Sorry."

Charlie shrugged, trying to mask the hurt that lingered just beneath the surface. "Don't be. It's hard to hide anything around here. We're all dealing with so much, and it seems like every personal moment gets turned into a headline."

For a few moments, they sat in companionable silence, keeping watch over the peaceful community below. The quiet was a balm for Charlie's frazzled nerves, though her thoughts were far from peaceful. She finally broke the silence. "How are you holding up? With Rosita?"

Sasha sighed, a small, rueful smile playing on her lips. "I guess you know."

"He told me," Charlie said, her voice gentle.

"If she could, she would stab me," Sasha said, her tone a mix of resignation and dark humor.

Charlie shook her head, a hint of a smile touching her lips. "Oh, if she wanted to, she would have already done it."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Sasha chuckled softly, appreciating the attempt at levity despite the tension surrounding them. "She hates me."

"For now," Charlie said, her voice carrying a note of optimism. "When the pain goes, she will understand. It won't be like this forever."

"You two are friends," Sasha said. "Why aren't you on her side?"

"I'm on his side, actually," Charlie replied. "Abraham's a good person trapped in a body of...well, a man. I want everyone to be happy, and you give him that. Rosita deserves the best, and he wasn't that."

After a few moments, Sasha broke the stillness, her voice soft but sincere. "I'm sorry," Sasha said, turning to face Charlie fully. "For not really trusting you before."

Charlie looked at her, surprised by the sudden admission. "What do you mean?"

"I remember when Tyreese and I first came to the prison. You didn't want to let us in."

"Yeah, I remember. I was so scared, always worried about who might be a threat."

"I thought you were just a mean bitch."

"Well, maybe I was," Charlie shrugged, her voice tinged with self-deprecation. "But back then, we knew almost nothing about what was going on. I was left with a boy, a baby, a man without a leg, and a singing teenager. It was crazy."

Sasha laughed, a genuine sound that cut through the tension. "Yeah, I can see how that would make anyone a little paranoid."

"It was a madhouse," Charlie agreed, joining in the laughter. The sound echoed softly in the quiet night. "But somehow, we made it work. And look at us now, keeping watch over a community like Alexandria."

"We've come a long way," Sasha said, nodding thoughtfully. "It's hard to believe sometimes."

"It is," Charlie agreed, her eyes distant as she remembered those early days. The struggles they faced, the losses they endured, and the fragile hope that had kept them moving forward. She reflected on how much they had grown, how their relationships had evolved, and how they had found ways to cope with the world's harsh realities.

The sudden, soft knock on the door startled her from her reflections. She opened the door to find Rosita standing there, her face a mix of anger and hurt. The tension between them was palpable.

"Can I come in?" Rosita's voice was tight, almost brittle.

Charlie stepped aside, silently inviting her in. Rosita entered, her movements stiff and deliberate. She turned to face Charlie, her eyes blazing with a barely contained fury. "So, you're all buddy-buddy with Sasha now?"

Charlie blinked, taken aback by the accusation. "What?"

"You know what she's done. She stole Abraham from me, and now you're acting like everything's fine."

Charlie sighed deeply, feeling the weight of Rosita's pain and anger. "I understand you're hurt, Rosita. But Sasha didn't steal Abraham."

"Don't patronize me, Charlie," Rosita rolled her eyes, her frustration evident. "You have no idea what it's like."

Rosita looked away. After a moment, she reached into her bag and placed a couple of glass bottles on the table.

"Let's drink," she said, her voice carrying a note of weary resignation.

Charlie stared at the bottles for a moment, feeling a flicker of gratitude for Rosita's attempt to bridge the gap between them. "Yeah, let's drink."

Rosita grabbed two glasses from a nearby shelf and poured the amber liquid generously. The warmth of the alcohol would hopefully provide some relief from their emotions.

"To Denise," Charlie said, raising her glass.

"To Denise," Rosita echoed, her eyes briefly meeting Charlie's before they both took a long, steadying drink.

As the warmth of the alcohol began to ease their frayed nerves, Charlie glanced at Rosita, feeling empathy and sorrow. The silence between them was heavy with the weight of what needed to be said.

"How do we tell Tara?" Charlie asked softly, her voice breaking the quiet.

Rosita looked up, her expression clouded with sorrow. Denise had been in a relationship with Tara, and now they had to face the painful task of delivering devastating news. Tara and Heath had ventured out to scavenge, unaware of the tragedy that had reached their loved one.

"I don't know," Rosita took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Let's just hope she won't come back too soon."

The gravity of the situation was evident. They had to figure out how to break the news to Tara, knowing it would shatter her world. The silence between them deepened, unfortunately the alcohol providing little comfort.

"I'm sleeping with Andy," Rosita slurred, the effects of the alcohol now clearly affecting her speech.

Charlie sighed, the weight of the conversation and the day's events settling heavily on her shoulders. "I know," she replied, her voice tinged with frustration. Frustration that once again she would have to have the conversation. "I had this talk with him today."

Rosita nodded, her relief evident. "I needed time to sink in the information. I didn't want to hurt him."

"Rosita, he's in love with you," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "You might think you used him to numb the pain after the breakup, but he used you, too."

The woman's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and realization crossing her features.

"He wants to show you that he's the right man for you," Charlie continued gently.

"I didn't... I didn't realize."

"I know it's complicated," Charlie said sympathetically. "Maybe you both needed each other in ways you didn't fully understand."

"I didn't mean to hurt him," she murmured, regret thick in her voice.

"I know," Charlie replied, her heart heavy with empathy. "But now that you know how he feels, maybe you can figure out what's best for both of you."

"Men," Rosita rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink. "You and Dixon, is it serious?" she asked, curiosity and a hint of skepticism in her tone.

Charlie mirrored Rosita's earlier eye-roll with a wry smile. "Men," she repeated, emphasizing the word with a shake of her head, drinking what she had in her glass.

Rosita chuckled softly, amusement mixing with camaraderie. "Seriously though," she pressed, setting her glass down. "You and Daryl Dixon. What's going on there?"

"It's... complicated," Charlie admitted, choosing her words carefully. "He's giving me the heebie-jeebies."

She burst into laughter, the sound warm and genuine. "I can imagine," she replied, shaking her head.

Charlie joined in Rosita's laughter, the tension of their earlier conversation melting away. Despite their challenges and the weight of their responsibilities, they felt as if they could breathe in each other's company, a moment of peace in the middle of the storm.

After a moment, Rosita raised her glass. "To men and their mysterious ways," she said, a teasing glint in her eye.

"And to surviving them," Charlie replied, a hint of defiance in her voice.

They clinked their glasses together, sharing a silent acknowledgment of the trials they faced.

Early in the morning, the first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows of the house, casting a gentle glow over the quiet room. Daryl stirred from his sleep, his mind still heavy with the events of the previous day. His still sleepy eyes fell on Charlie's pillow - cold and untouched.

With a heavy sigh, Daryl pushed himself out of bed, the floorboards creaking softly beneath his weight as he made his way to the kitchen. His brow furrowed with concern as he saw multiple empty bottles on the table.

His footsteps guided him towards the living room. There, Charlie and Rosita were sleeping on the opposite ends of the sofa. The sight caught Daryl off guard, a mixture of surprise.

Carefully, he took a blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over Charlie, his movements gentle. In the process, he unintentionally tugged the blanket slightly, causing Rosita to stir briefly, murmuring in her sleep.

Once Charlie was covered, Daryl knelt beside her, his gaze lingering on her peaceful face. He reached out tentatively, his fingertips brushing lightly against her cheek. Charlie stirred at his touch, her brow furrowing slightly before she slowly turned towards him, her expression softened by sleep.

His heart skipped a beat as she instinctively moved closer to his touch, seeking the warmth and reassurance of his presence. He swallowed hard, overwhelmed by a rush of conflicting emotions—love, protectiveness, fear, and anger.

Daryl moved quietly around the living room, his steps careful not to disturb Charlie and Rosita who were still peacefully asleep on the sofa. He prepared a glass of water and medicine.

As he approached Charlie, his heart sank with guilt and shame. He remembered his harsh words to her, blaming her for Denise's death in a moment of anger and grief. Now, seeing her sleeping so peacefully, the weight of his words bore down on him like a heavy burden.

Before getting the supplies down on a nearby table, he looked over at Charlie again. He squeezed the painkillers in his hands as if they were burning him. A reminder of why Denise lost her life.

He placed the thing down quickly to get rid of the negative feelings.

Unable to bear the weight of his remorse any longer, Daryl leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Charlie's cheek. It was a silent apology, hoping she would feel his regret and forgiveness in the warmth of his lips.

She only sighed softly in her sleep, her features relaxing at his touch.

With a final glance at Charlie and Rosita, still asleep and unaware of his silent penance, Daryl retreated quietly.

As he left the room, the morning light filtering through the windows.

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [18] THE DEATH WILL COME

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: Denise organizes a scavenge run. Charlie and Andy can’t see eye to eye. A conversation with Glenn puts Charlie at peace that is broken once the scavenge group is back in Alexandria. She finds a friend in Abraham.

Words: 6.398

The only sound was the crunch of their footsteps on the gravel road and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. But to Daryl, it felt like a storm was raging inside his head.

His thoughts were a chaotic swirl of guilt and anger, each one crashing into the next, leaving him reeling with the weight of it all. Denise's death replayed in his mind like a broken record, the moment burned into his memory. The sound of her voice, steady yet tinged with fear as she tried to inspire him and Rosita, now echoed in his ears, haunting him.

She wasn't supposed to be out there. He should've known better. But she'd insisted, and he hadn't argued, thinking maybe she needed it. Maybe they all did.

Daryl clenched his fists, the rough skin of his palms digging into his calloused hands. He should've killed Dwight when he had the chance. He had him right there, defenseless, but he'd shown mercy, a rare moment of compassion. And how had Dwight repaid him?

What was killing Daryl from the inside was the fact with what the girl was killed.

The crossbow wasn't just a weapon to him; it was a part of who he was. Losing it felt like losing a piece of himself, and seeing it in Dwight's hands, wielded with such casual cruelty, felt like a deep, personal betrayal.

He felt Rosita walking a few steps behind him, her silence as heavy as his own. He knew she was grieving too, that she had her own demons to wrestle with after everything that had happened.

As they approached the gates of Alexandria, the familiar walls came into view, but they offered no comfort. If anything, they only reminded Daryl of the people inside—their friends, their family—who would be waiting for them, who would expect answers.

He wasn't sure he had any.

And as the gates opened to let them in, he couldn't shake the feeling that, no matter how hard he tried, he might never be able to forgive himself for what had happened.

EARLIER THAT DAY...

Charlie stood at the gate with Denise, the weight of their recent situation heavy in the air. The gate was slightly ajar, and the first rays of the sun cast long shadows across the ground as Abraham and Eugene prepared to head out.

"We'll be back soon," Abraham said with a tone of reassurance.

"Don't risk it," she said firmly. "If you see something suspicious, come back immediately."

The man chuckled, the sound incongruous with the gravity of the situation. "Come on. Life sucks and then you die. We should make it worth it."

Charlie shot him a sharp look, her eyes filled with unspoken concern. The ginger chuckled once again and placed his hand to his forehead in answer. "Yes, sir."

"You're all so strong," Denise, standing beside Charlie, broke the tense silence with a gentle voice. Her gaze shifting between Charlie and the departing group.

"We don't have much choice, do we? It's just how it is."

"You know it's not," she said. "Many would just give up."

"I guess we learned to not give up," Charlie shrugged. "The death will come eventually. It's better when you have no regrets."

Charlie was ready to walk away, to focus on her own tasks and try to push the recent events from her mind. But before she could turn and leave, Denise called out to her, her voice laced with a hint of urgency. "Charlie."

She paused, turning back to face Denise with a questioning look. "Hmm?"

Denise shifted her weight, her expression thoughtful. "Can you do me a favor? Could you find Rosita and Daryl for me?"

"Something's wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I just need to talk to them."

Charlie's brow furrowed slightly. She wondered why Denise would specifically need to speak with Rosita and Daryl. Despite her curiosity, Charlie nodded her head in acknowledgment.

Her search led her to a quiet corner of the compound near the medical bay, where she spotted Rosita and Andy in deep conversation. Charlie stopped not far away from them. She knew she shouldn't listen to what they were talking about, her curiosity piqued.

"So, if you didn't already have plans, I was thinking of making something tasty," Andy said, his voice hopeful.

Rosita glanced at him with a disinterested look. "I'm good, thanks."

Andy chuckled, trying to keep the mood light. "It's not exactly a nice porterhouse, but I promise it's better than it sounds."

"I'm sure it is," she answered, her voice slightly colder than it was before. She looked up and saw confused face of the young man. "What?"

"What are we doing?" Andy looked puzzled. "Just tell me. It's good either way... It really is."

"Okay?" Rosita responded.

"Okay is what we're doing?" he asked with a chuckle, looking for confirmation.

"We'll do dinner." Rosita nodded, finally showing a hint of warmth.

"All right." his face lit up with a genuine smile.

Without another word, Rosita leaned in and kissed him gently. It was a tender moment that spoke more than any words shared between them.

"Ekhm..." Charlie cleared her throat, hoping to interrupt without being too intrusive.

The pair pulled away from their kiss, their faces a mix of surprise and embarrassment. Andy cleared his throat, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Uh, hi, Charlie."

She offered a small, understanding smile, though her eyes betrayed her surprise at the scene she'd just witnessed. "I didn't see or hear anything," she said diplomatically. "Denise wants to see you."

"Me?" Andy asked, pointing at himself.

"Rosita," Charlie said, clearing the misunderstanding.

The group had gathered near the house, where Daryl was fixing his bike. Denise, looking determined, was ready to explain her plan. The sudden meeting made everyone feel confused - especially because it was called by the young doctor.

"After I got out of DC," Denise began, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her anxiety, "I just drove. I remember seeing it right when I realized I had no idea where I was going."

Andy chimed in, "Edison's Apothecary and Boutique. I remember. It's just this little gift shop in a strip mall."

"But if it's really an apothecary," Denise persisted, "they had drugs."

Daryl's brow furrowed. "How do you know they still got 'em?"

"It isn't that far. I just want to check." Denise shrugged. "And you and Rosita aren't out scavenging or pulling shifts."

"We'll go," Daryl said firmly.

Charlie looked at him, a mixture of anxiety and accusation in her eyes. She knew they needed supplies, and the drugs were on top of the list, but it was risky. They didn't know what was waiting for them in the shadows of the outside.

"We can't..." Charlie began, but Denise cut her off.

"I wanted to check. I just wanted to help."

"How much time you spend out there?" Daryl asked.

"None," Denise admitted.

"Forget it," Daryl said, shaking his head in frustration.

Denise's voice took on a note of determination. "I can ID the meds. I know how to use a machete now."

"And it would barely save you inside those walls," Charlie interjected, her worry evident.

"I've seen roamers up close."

"And Daryl saw the meds up close," Charlie added. "He can make it."

"I'm ready," Denise said, her resolve unshaken.

The room fell into a heavy silence. Daryl's gaze shifted between Charlie and Rosita, seeking some kind of consensus."You good with this?" he asked Rosita, his voice firm but edged with concern.

"No," Rosita replied, her voice low.

"I'll go alone if I have to," Denise said, her determination clear.

"Hey, guys," Andy spoke up, trying to mediate. "It's better if she goes with you, right? Let's not tease fate and just... let her go with you."

"It's dangerous," Charlie said, her voice tinged with frustration.

"I'm asking you to make sure it's not," Denise argued, her tone pleading.

"You never can be so sure."

"The death will come eventually. It's better when you have no regrets," Denise answered Charlie. "That's what you told me."

The air was filled with an uneasy silence. Charlie felt a rising sense of helplessness. She wanted to protect her friends, to shield them from the dangers they faced every day. But there was a growing realization that she couldn't always control what happened.

"I'm not babysitting her by myself," Rosita said firmly.

"I'm coming with you then," Charlie said eagerly, her determination matching Denise's.

"No," both men said in unison.

"You're coming nowhere," Daryl said, his voice brooking no argument.

"What?" Charlie asked, taken aback.

"You're still in shock after what happened to you," Daryl said, his gaze steady.

"You can't be serious," Charlie said, her voice tinged with both frustration and disbelief.

Daryl's eyes were filled with a mix of sympathy and firmness. "It's too dangerous. I need you to stay here."

Her heart pounded in her chest. She felt a surge of frustration, but she also understood Daryl's perspective. She knew she was still reeling from the traumatic events they had all endured, but it hurt to be sidelined, to feel as if she wasn't trusted to handle the situation.

With a resigned sigh, Charlie nodded, her face a mask of reluctant acceptance. She could see the finality in Daryl's expression, the determination to keep everyone as safe as possible.

"Alright," Charlie said quietly. "I'll stay."

As the group prepared to head out, Charlie stood near the gate, her eyes following Daryl and Denise as they got ready. The weight of their departure hung heavily in the air, the tension palpable. She watched as Daryl methodically checked his gear, the focus in his movements betraying the seriousness of the mission ahead.

Charlie's gaze lingered on him, and she couldn't help but voice her concern with a hint of humor. "Can you even drive a car?" she asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

Daryl shot her a sharp look, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. "Not funny."

She offered a small, apologetic smile, though her worry was evident. She knew that making light of the situation was her way of coping with the anxiety she felt.

Meanwhile, Andy and Rosita were off to the side, having a quieter conversation as they watched the others get ready. Andy seemed eager to seize the moment. "So... see you later?" he asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

"Dinner. At yours," she confirmed.

"Looking forward to it," he said, his tone filled with genuine interest. Andy's face brightened, a mixture of relief and anticipation evident in his eyes.

Rosita offered a brief smile before turning her attention back to the preparations.

Daryl stepped closer to Charlie, his demeanor a mix of determination and tenderness. "I'll be back for dinner," he said, leaning in to peck the corner of her lips quickly. It was a small gesture, but it carried a world of meaning.

"Be careful," she said softly.

He nodded, his eyes locking onto hers. "I will. And don't worry, alright?"

"Don't worry, brother," a familiar voice called out from behind them, as Dixon stepped away. "I'll take care of Charlie."

Charlie turned to see Andy approaching, his tone light and reassuring. "It's more like she'll take care of you," Daryl added with a teasing grin.

Charlie snorted, shaking her head slightly. "Yeah, yeah. I'll make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble," she said, trying to keep the mood light despite her lingering concern.

With a final nod to Charlie, Daryl joined Denise as they headed toward the vehicle. She watched them go, her heart heavy with worry. As the vehicle rumbled out of the gate, Charlie took a deep breath and turned to face the compound.

...

The familiar clang of the gate opening cut through the silence, and the group stepped inside. Daryl's eyes immediately swept across the compound, taking in the scene before him. People were milling about, going about their evening routines, but their movements slowed as they caught sight of the returning group. Conversations hushed, heads turned, and a palpable wave of unease rippled through the community.

Daryl was hyper-aware of every glance, every unspoken question that hung in the air as they walked deeper into Alexandria. They looked to him, to all of them, as leaders, as protectors. But tonight, all he felt was the crushing weight of his own failure.

He kept his gaze low, avoiding eye contact with the people they passed. He didn't want to see the worry in their eyes, the questions they wouldn't dare to ask aloud. They didn't know yet what had happened, but the sight of his grim expression, lifeless body of Eugene, and the absence of Denise spoke volumes.

The people of Alexandria looked at them with a mixture of shock, sorrow, and fear. They had lost another one of their own, and the sting of that loss was sharp and immediate. Denise was always for them, attentive and ready to chat happily.

Every step felt heavier, weighed down by the memories of what had happened on the road. Then, just ahead, a figure caught his eye, pulling him out of his turbulent thoughts. Daryl's gaze sharpened, focusing on Charlie standing in the distance.

She wasn't moving, just standing there, her eyes searching for his as if she had been waiting for him to return. For a brief moment, the world around him seemed to pause, everything else falling away as he locked eyes with her.

EARLIER...

The sun was high on the horizon as the scavenging group made their way back to Alexandria. Exhaustion and relief mixed on their faces. Daryl led the group, their steps determined but visibly weary. The air was thick with the tension of the day's events.

"What the hell was that?!" he demanded, his voice carrying the weight of his fear as he stopped on front of the girl. "You could've died right there, you know that?"

Denise looked up at him, her face pale and her eyes wide with a mix of defiance and guilt. "Yeah, I do."

"Are you hearing me?!" he lashed out at her.

"Who gives a shit?!" Denise yelled. "You could've died killing those Saviors, both of you, but you didn't! You wanna live, you take chances! That's how it works. That's what I did."

"For a couple of damn sodas?"

The doctor shook her head, her voice rising in intensity. "Nope. Just this one."

"Are you seriously that stupid?" Rosita's frustration reached its peak, as she followed Denise.

"Are you? I mean it. Are you?" the girl asked back. "Do you have any clue what that was to me, what this whole thing is to me?!"

Rosita looked at her confused.

"See, I have training in this shit. I'm not making it up as I go along like with the stitches and the surgery and the..." she paused, searching for the right words before turning to Dixon. "I asked you to come with me because you're brave like my brother, and sometimes you actually make me feel safe," then she looked at Espinosa. "And I wanted you here because you're alone. Probably for the first time in your life. And because you're stronger than you think you are, which gives me hope that maybe I can be, too."

Daryl's anger was momentarily tempered by her words, but the raw emotion in Denise's voice was hard to ignore. His face softened slightly as he processed her confession.

Denise took a deep breath, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation. "I could've gone with Tara. I could've told her I loved her, but I didn't because I was afraid. That's what's stupid. Not coming out here, not facing my shit. And it makes me sick that you guys aren't even trying because you're strong and smart. You should tell Charlie that you're in love with her! And you should tell Andy that you don't give a shit about him!" she finished with a frustrated sigh, calming herself. "You're both good people. You just have to wake up, because if you won't wake up..."

An arrow whizzed through the air and struck Denise in the head, before she could finish her thought. Her body would crumple to the ground with a look of shock frozen on her face, but for Daryl's strong arms.

...

Charlie's brows were furrowed, concern evident in the way her forehead creased. But when she saw him looking at her, she tried to soften her expression, offering him a small, tentative smile. It was a gesture of reassurance, a silent attempt to reach out and let him know she was there for him.

But Daryl couldn't return the smile. His face remained a hard, unreadable mask, his thoughts swirling with a new, more bitter realization. As he looked at Charlie, something cold and accusatory settled deep in his gut.

EARLIER IN ALEXANDRIA...

They walked in silence for a few moments, their thoughts with the people who just left the safety of Alexandria's walls. Andy was the first to break the quiet, trying to lighten the mood. "How fast they're growing up. Who would have known Denise would want to leave Alexandria."

"It was that bad?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "It was crazy back then. I thought she would never walk outside after what we came through."

"I just hope nothing happens," she said. Charlie felt that her words might have pushed Denise outside, and that if anything happened she would feel guilty.

"She's with Daryl and Rosita," Andy shrugged. "Nothing bad will happen."

At the mention of the woman's name, the easy atmosphere began to shift, a topic that had been simmering beneath the surface finally coming to a boil. "So," Charlie began, her tone casual but with an edge, "you and Rosita... You're really serious about that?"

Andy hesitated, sensing the skepticism in her voice. "What do you mean by that?"

Charlie shrugged, trying to keep her tone light. "I just mean... are you sure it's a good idea? Rosita's been through a lot. Are you really what she needs right now?"

"What are you trying to say, Charlie?" he asked. "That I'm not good enough for her?"

"The other way around," she mumbled under her nose. "It's just... Rosita's tough. I don't want you getting caught up in something that might not be real."

"You don't think she actually cares about me?" Andy frowned, his brows knitting together.

"It's not that simple," Charlie replied, struggling to find the right words. "I just... I don't want to see you hurt, Andy. And I'm not sure if she's in a place where she can give you what you're looking for."

"What are you trying to say?"

"That she just got out of something with Abraham, and now you're... what? Trying to fill that void?"

"We both need something to hold onto."

"Something to hold onto?" Charlie repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Or someone to hold onto until it falls apart again? Rosita's not exactly in the best place right now, and you're setting yourself up to get hurt."

Andy stopped walking, turning to face her fully. "And what do you know about it, Charlie? About what I need, or what she needs? I thought you'd be happy that I found someone to talk to, someone to be close with."

"I'm worried about you, Andy," Charlie met his gaze, her eyes filled with concern and frustration. "I'm worried that you're diving into something without really thinking it through. Rosita's hurting, and you're... you're trying to be her band-aid. But what happens when she realizes it's not enough? Or when you realize that?"

His jaw tightened, hurt flashing in his eyes. "You don't think I know that? You don't think I'm aware of what's going on?"

Charlie softened slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing as she sighed. "I know, Andy. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"What about you and Daryl?"

"Andy, that's different."

"You think that's any different?" he scoffed. "He barely even talks about his feelings. How do you know where you stand with him? How do you know you're not just... just a distraction?"

"What are you talking about, Andy?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly with a mix of hurt and confusion.

"I'm talking about how you're so busy worrying about me and Rosita that you don't even see what's going on in your own life," Andy shot back. "Daryl's a good guy, but let's face it, Charlie. He's messed up, and he's got a hell of a lot of baggage. And Rosita's ex relationship is nothing, compared to this."

"Daryl and I... we understand each other," she said defensively, though the conviction in her voice was wavering.

"Do you?" Andy challenged, his frustration spilling over. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're just as lost as the rest of us. And maybe... maybe you're scared to admit that."

Charlie's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of anger and fear surging through her. "That's not fair, Andy. You don't know anything about what Daryl and I have. You don't know what we've been through together."

"Maybe not," Andy admitted, his voice quieter but still laced with emotion. "But I do know that if you keep second-guessing everyone else's choices, you're going to push people away. And that includes him."

"I'm not second-guessing anything," she snapped. Charlie clenched her fists, her emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. "I care about you, Andy."

"And I care about you too, Charlie," Andy replied, his tone softening slightly. "But maybe... maybe you need to start trusting that we're all just trying to figure this out. Just like you are."

The silence between them was thick, filled with the unspoken fears and doubts that neither of them wanted to fully acknowledge. Charlie looked away, her thoughts racing as she tried to process what Andy had said.

Without another word, he turned and began walking away, his shoulders tense with unspoken frustration. Charlie blinked in surprise, her hand still hanging in the air from where she had squeezed his moments before.

"Andy!"

But Andy didn't stop. He kept walking, his pace quickening as if he needed to put distance between them, to escape the tension that had flared up between them.

"Fine!" she yelled after him. "Go!"

He didn't turn around. He didn't acknowledge her at all. The silence that followed was deafening, amplifying the sting of rejection she felt. Charlie stood there, frozen, her heart sinking as she watched him disappear down the path.

She was lost in her thoughts, trying to make sense of the argument and the gnawing doubts it had stirred within her. Just as she was about to turn away, she heard footsteps approaching from behind.

"Charlie," a familiar voice called out, gentle yet firm.

Charlie's expression immediately hardened, her annoyance flaring up. Cass had been trying to get her to attend therapy sessions ever since the incident with the Wolves, but Charlie had been avoiding them, not wanting to dig up old wounds or confront the turmoil in her head.

"Cass," Charlie acknowledged, her voice clipped as she tried to keep her irritation in check.

Cass didn't seem to notice, or maybe she just chose to ignore it. "I haven't seen you in a while," he said, stopping a few steps away from Charlie. "I've noticed you've been absent."

"I've been busy," she replied curtly, hoping to cut the conversation short.

"Too busy to take care of yourself?" Cass asked, her tone gentle but judgmental.

"I'm fine, Cass. I don't need to talk about my feelings every other day,” Charlie clenched her jaw, feeling the familiar frustration rise within her. “There are more important things going on right now."

"There always will be something more important," he said, studying her face. "But bottling everything up, pretending you're fine when you're not... that's not going to help. It's okay to ask for help. To take a moment to breathe."

Charlie's patience was wearing thin. "I don't need therapy sessions to 'breathe,'" she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. "I'm handling things my way. I'm not like everyone else."

"You don't have to be like everyone else," he said. "It's okay to admit that you're struggling. Especially after what happened."

"Why does everyone's so worried about what I feel after what happened?" she groaned. "First of all, let’s name it. I was kidnapped by the Saviors. And I managed to go through it alive. I feel just like before. Are you happy?"

"You know where to find me if you change your mind," he said quietly. "Just... don't wait until it's too much, okay?"

Charlie didn't respond, her gaze fixed on the ground as she tried to rein in her emotions. She felt Cass's eyes on her, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment, but she couldn't bring herself to give it.

After a long, tense silence, Cass finally nodded, accepting Charlie's silence as an answer. "Take care of yourself, Charlie," she said, her voice full of sincerity before she turned and walked away.

Charlie stood there for a few moments longer, her emotions simmering beneath the surface. She knew Cass was only trying to help, but right now, it just felt like one more person pushing her to confront things she wasn't ready to face.

With a frustrated sigh, Charlie turned and walked back toward Rick's house.

The house was dimly lit, and she could hear Judith's soft babbling coming from the living room. Stepping inside, she saw the little girl sitting on the floor, playing with a set of blocks, her innocent laughter a stark contrast to the heaviness that weighed on Charlie's heart. "Hey there, little one," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Judith's forehead. "Guess it's just you and me today."

She carried Judith and sat down on the couch, cradling the baby against her chest.

Charlie sighed, leaning back into the couch. "You know, they wanted me to go to a therapy session today," she said, even though Judith couldn't understand. "Can you believe it? We wouldn't have so much fun together."

Judith responded with a soft babble, her tiny hand reaching up to pat Charlie's cheek. For a while, they sat in comfortable silence. She watched as Judith's eyes darted around the room, following the shadows and the play of light on the walls. She marveled at how easily Judith could find joy and wonder in the smallest things.

"You don't know how lucky you are," Charlie murmured to Judith. "You don't have to worry about anything. You just... trust that we'll keep you safe."

"Like that's not a lot," Glenn chuckled, walking inside the house with Carl in tow.

"Friends!" Charlie gasped happily. "Oh, my friends came to save me!"

"You don't like spending time with my sister?" Carl asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"I love spending time with your sister. I could spend time with her all the time!" Charlie answered, adjusting Judith in her arms. "But I like when a person I talk to answers me back."

Glenn laughed, settling into a chair across from Charlie. "Well, here we are, ready to provide stimulating conversation."

Carl nodded in agreement, plopping down beside Glenn. "So, what were you and Judith chatting about?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," Charlie shrugged. "How peaceful it must be to not worry about anything."

"She's lucky," he sighed. "Hopefully, she won't have to worry as much as we do."

"Speaking of little ones, have you and Maggie thought of any names for your baby yet?" Carl asked.

"We've tossed around a few ideas," Glenn answered, rubbing his temple. "Maggie likes the name Hershel, after her dad."

Charlie smiled warmly.

"What about girl names?"

"Maggie really likes the name Sophia, after Carol's daughter," Glenn said. "And...Beth."

The name brought back memories of the sweet, hopeful girl who had been taken from them too soon. Charlie felt a lump forming in her throat. She blinked back tears, not wanting to cry in front of Glenn and Carl. But the sorrow was there, gnawing at her heart, so she cleared her throat.

"Exactly," Glenn sighed and pointed at her.  "I want my baby to bring smiles on people's faces...not this.."

"There's still time," Charlie said. "And what are yours ideas?"

"Glenn Jr."

"Okay! Hershel it is!" she declared enthusiastically, clapping her hands together.

"It has a nice ring to it," Glenn tried to save himself.

"Oh, please," Charlie scoffed playfully. "Glenn Jr.? That's way too predictable."

"Are you saying my name isn't special enough?" Glenn feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.

"Yes!"

"But we're definitely keeping 'Glenn Jr.' as a backup."

Charlie laughed, playfully rolling her eyes. "Sure, Glenn. Whatever you say."

She felt a surge of gratitude as she watched Glenn's smile light up the room. His easy humor and warm presence had always been a source of comfort since the moment she met him. He always had a way of making the place brighter.

***

There was a coldness in his eyes, a distant, hard edge that she hadn't seen before. It was as if the warmth, the connection they had built over time, had been stripped away, leaving nothing but a void she couldn't understand.

As Daryl walked past her without a word, without even a glance, the knot in Charlie's stomach tightened. She watched him go, her eyes following his retreating figure as he moved deeper into Alexandria.

Daryl pushed open the door of the infirmary, stepping out into the cool evening air. The scent of antiseptic clung to his clothes. His mind was a chaotic mess of guilt and anger, the events of the day replaying over and over again in his head like a broken record.

And then there was Charlie.

As he stepped on the steps of the infirmary, his gaze fell on the figure sitting just outside the building. Charlie was there, perched on the edge of a wooden step, her posture tense and uncertain. She was waiting for him - of course she was. Her eyes lifted as soon as she heard the door open, locking onto him.

His jaw clenched as he stopped in his tracks, just a few feet away from her. The sight of her sitting there, sparked something sharp and cold in his chest.

Denise had gone out there to get the medication for Charlie. She had insisted on it, despite the risks, because Charlie needed it. And Daryl had let her come along, thinking they could handle it, that everything would go as planned. But it hadn't. And now Denise was dead because of it.

Because of Charlie.

The thought was irrational, unfair even, but it clung to him like a shadow, darkening his thoughts with every step closer to her.

Charlie's expression shifted as she took in the hard lines of his face, the way his eyes avoided hers. She opened her mouth to speak, to ask him something, but the words seemed to die on her lips when she saw the look in his eyes. A look that wasn't just tired or sad—it was angry.

"How he's..." she pointed a finger at the infirmary, where Eugene was.

He didn't answer right away. He couldn't. The anger inside him was too raw, too close to the surface. He looked away, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to keep his voice even.

"Why are you here?" he muttered, his tone sharper than he intended.

Charlie blinked, the question catching her off guard. "I... I wanted to check on Eugene. He's hurt," she said. "And I was worried about you."

"Worried," Daryl repeated, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. He shook his head, the anger simmering beneath the surface threatening to boil over.  

"Daryl, what's going on? What happened out there?"

He let out a harsh breath, his eyes finally meeting hers, filled with a mix of anger and something that looked like betrayal. "What happened?" he echoed, his voice low and edged with bitterness. "You don't see anything but the end of your nose."

His gaze was piercing, accusatory, and he couldn't stop the words that followed, even though part of him knew they were wrong.

"You can't...You really blame me for what happened to Denise?"

"She went out there to get those meds. For you. Because you needed them. And now she's gone."

Charlie's breath hitched, her face paling as his words sank in. "Daryl... I... I didn't ask for that. I didn't want her to—"

"But she did," Daryl cut her off, his voice rising. "She did it anyway. The death will come eventually. It's better when you have no regrets.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Charlie sat there, stunned, the color drained from her cheeks as she stared up at him, trying to process what he was saying, what he was implying.

"Daryl..."she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and desperation.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she reached out as if to touch him, to comfort him, but Daryl stepped back, avoiding her hand. He couldn't deal with this, not now, not with the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

"I need to be alone," he muttered, turning away from her, unable to face the pain in her eyes.

Charlie watched him go, her heart breaking as she realized just how deeply this had cut him, how much he was hurting. But she didn't know how to reach him, how to make him see that she wasn't the enemy, that she was on his side.

Tears finally spilled over. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the chill of the evening settle in as the reality of what had happened began to sink in.

Daryl blamed her. And she didn't know if she could ever make things right again.

The wooden floorboards creaked behind her, the sound faint but distinct in the stillness of the evening. Charlie tensed. She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, trying to regain some semblance of composure. Her breath caught when she saw Abraham standing a few feet away, his broad frame silhouetted against the fading light. He must have been nearby and overheard at least part of what had happened.

She swallowed hard, trying to mask the turmoil inside her with a neutral expression. "Abraham," she said, forcing a small smile. "How's Eugene?"

Abraham's face softened as he took in her attempt to seem unbothered, the way she was trying to hold it all together despite the obvious pain in her eyes. He walked closer, his heavy boots making the floorboards creak with every step. "Eugene's tough. He's hangin' in there," he replied, his deep voice gentle, almost soothing. “The drugs Denise found saved him.”

Charlie nodded, grateful for the distraction, even if only for a moment. "Good. That's good," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She tried to look away, not wanting him to see how close she was to breaking down completely.

But Abraham wasn't fooled. He could see the strain in her posture, the way she was curling into herself as if to protect against the world's harshness. He sighed, his hand resting on the back of his neck as he searched for the right words, knowing this wasn't a situation he could fix with a joke or a pep talk.

"Charlie," he said quietly, his voice laced with a rare tenderness. "You don't gotta act like you're okay when you're not. It's alright to let it out."

"I just... I don't want anyone to see me like this," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I don't want to make things worse...or that everything is about me."

Abraham crouched down beside her, bringing himself to her level, his presence solid and reassuring. "Ain't nobody here judgin' you. Least of all me." He hesitated for a moment, then continued, "I know things've been rough. And I know Daryl's hurtin'. But don't you take all that on yourself, y'hear? You did nothing."

Charlie looked at him, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. "But it feels like I did. I keep thinking... if it wasn't for me, maybe Denise... maybe she'd still be here."

"That ain't on you." he shook his head. "We all make choices. Denise made hers by going out today. You didn't made her go."

The words hit Charlie like a wave, crashing through the fragile wall she'd tried so hard to maintain.

Her defenses finally crumbled at his words, and she let out a shaky breath, the tears she had been holding back finally spilling over. Charlie's shoulders shook as she cried, the weight of everything crashing down on her all at once. It was as if all the fear and sorrow she'd been keeping at bay had finally broken free, and there was nothing left to hold them back. She covered her face with her hands, trying to stifle the sobs, but they came anyway, raw and unrestrained.

Abraham stayed right there, his hand never leaving her shoulder, giving her the space to let it all out. He didn't try to shush her. He just let her cry, understanding that sometimes, that's all a person could do.

After what felt like an eternity, Charlie finally started to catch her breath, the sobs gradually subsiding into quiet, shaky breaths. She lowered her hands, wiping at her tear-streaked face with trembling fingers.

"We can't look back," he said. "You gotta keep movin' forward. That's how we survive. Right?"

Charlie nodded, taking a deep breath as she tried to steady herself. She sniffed her nose and swallowed the hard lump in her throat. "Thank you."

Abraham gave her another comforting squeeze on the shoulder before standing up. "Give it some time. And don't be too hard on yourself, alright?"

Charlie nodded, looking up at him with a faint smile. "I'll try."

He smiled and gave her a hard pat on her back.

"Good," he said. "Now...We have things to do."

Charlie watched him walk away, feeling a small sense of solace in his words. The weight on her shoulders hadn't vanished, but it felt a bit lighter now. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [17] FORTIFICATIONS

Daryl Dixon x OC!Charlie

Summary: The group is working on fortifications and defense plan. Charlie confronts Rick.

Words: 3.052

Warnings: none

Rick stood at the head of the table, a map of Alexandria spread out before him. The room was dimly lit, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone present. Daryl, Michonne, Charlie, Glenn, Maggie, Abraham, Rosita, and Aaron formed a circle around Rick. His voice cut through the silence. "We've been lucky so far. But the Saviors know about us."

"Do you think Gregory will tell them?" Maggie asked, her voice tight with worry.

"We need to be ready," Rick replied, his tone resolute.

Charlie listened intently, her mind racing. She glanced around the table, noting the tension etched on everyone's faces.

"We need to fortify the walls and set up a 24-hour watch. Glenn, Maggie, you are in charge of that. Sasha, Abraham, you and Aaron will coordinate the patrols. Rosita, make sure our weapons are in top condition and that people are ready to fight. Eugene...I'd like to show you the plans later. Daryl, you're on defense planning."

As she was looking at the map, her mind already racing with ideas on how to improve Alexandria's defenses. Then, she looked up and she couldn't help but admire Rick. Time and again, she had seen him step into the role of leader with a natural ease. She glanced at Rick as he continued to outline the plan.

"If everything is clear..."

Before anyone could move, Charlie's voice cut through the silence. "What about me?"

The room went still, all eyes turning to Rick. For a brief moment, his confident demeanor faltered, and he hesitated, a fraction of a second too long. "You stay with Judith," he said finally, his tone firm but not unkind.

Disbelief washing over her like a cold wave. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. After everything they had been through, everything she had done to prove herself, Rick was sidelining her. She had faced walkers, the horrors of the Wolves, she was even kidnapped - but nothing hurt quite like this.

"What?"

The others were silent, and she could feel their eyes on her, but no one spoke up. Not even Daryl, who stood beside her, his expression unreadable. Rick's voice pulled her back to the present. "You can go now."

The group dispersed, each member heading off to fulfill their assigned tasks. Charlie stayed rooted to the spot, trying to process the swirl of emotions inside her. She caught Daryl's eye, hoping for some sign that he understood, that he saw the unfairness of it all. But Daryl just gave her a small, sympathetic nod before turning to follow the rest out the door.

The silence of the room pressed in on her, and she realized that she couldn't just let this go. She needed to say something, to understand Rick's decision. Summoning her courage, she cleared her throat and called out, "Can we talk?"

Rick, who had been gathering up his notes and preparing to leave, paused and looked up at her. His expression was expectant, open, but also tired. "Okay," he said, looking at her expectantly.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she struggled to find the right words, but all she could manage was, "I just—" she stopped, realizing how vague and unformed her thoughts were.

Rick waited patiently, his eyes encouraging her to continue. But that only made it harder. His voice broke through her thoughts, gentle but firm. "Charlie, if something's bothering you, just say it. We don't have time for doubts. Not now."

"I get that she's important and needs someone to look after her, but... I feel like I could do more. I want to do more. I've been here long enough, proven myself, haven't I?"

"You have," he said. "That's why you will stay with my daughter because there's no person I trust more with it."

"I'm not a nanny, Rick."

"Charlie," he sighed. "You haven't been doing so good lately. I just want to make sure you're comfortable."

"Comfortable?"

"I put you in a hard position," he said. "You just were kidnapped."

"I'm completely fine, now," she answered. "And your plan is wrong."

"Lately, you have very little trust in me," Rick said, his voice strained.

"So this is all about?" her jaw dropped. "Because of what I said on the road? Rick...I was right, and now..."

"I don't need people, who don't see the point in our actions in my team," he answered. "And you say I'm wrong all the time."

"I'm not saying..." Charlie closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the fragile ego of the man. "Just hear me out! We need to reinforce the main gate," she began, her voice steady. "It's our weakest point. If they break through there, we're done for. We should set up traps around the perimeter - anything to slow them down. I also think we could use the cars in the garage to block off key entry points, creating choke points."

"Go on."

"Reinforcing our main gate is important, but it might not be enough," she said. "One guard can't cover two exits or third-floor windows."

"You mean?"

"I mean this place is big and there are many people here, too," she answered. "Your idea with patrols and training people is good, but I don't know if it's enough...for now. Just recently they started using guns. Some of them are good or even really good, but...I'm afraid when it comes to the real battle, we're alone."

"So what do we do?"

"Something that we lacked in the prison," she said. "24-hour shifts set up on each of the watchtowers, fully supplied and ready. For that, we need the best shooters."

Rick looked at Charlie thoughtfully. "We can set up safe zones within the walls, stock them with supplies and weapons, too."

"If we want to be trapped," Charlie said. "We need rendezvous spots outside Alexandria. Plus, of course, we need drivers, people who will help others evacuate, and distractors."

"People bad in a fight, drivers. People that can keep their cool, evacuators. And distractors..." he said, looking up at him.

"Us."

There was a moment of silence, a shared understanding passing between them. Rick trusted her, valued her judgment, and that meant more to Charlie than she could express.

"Good," Rick said, nodding. "Let's get started."

She opened her eyes wider. "Wait, what do you mean?" she asked, trying to make sense of his abrupt shift.

Rick's expression softened, sensing her uncertainty. "You're with Daryl. Help him now, and then tell him your plan. I'll talk to Eugene and get him working on the traps. We'll need his expertise for that. Alright?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Of course."

"Alright," he said. "So let's get to work."

"Rick," she called before he could leave the room. "Thanks."

With that, Rick gave her one last look before turning around to leave, his boots making soft thuds against the floor as he headed off to find Eugene. The door closed behind him with a quiet click, leaving Charlie standing alone, her heart still racing from the conversation.

Charlie moved quickly through the streets of Alexandria, her mind focused on the task ahead. She had expected to find Daryl in the armory, but he was nowhere to be seen. After a brief search, she spotted him near the perimeter, checking the fencing and reinforcing weak spots. He looked up as she approached, his face set in a determined expression. "So? How was it?"

"It looks like we'll be spending more time together," she said. "After he heard my plan, he wants us to work together."

Daryl nodded, wiping his hands on a rag before tucking it into his pocket. Without another word, he began gathering tools and materials, his movements efficient and practiced. Charlie followed suit, grabbing supplies and setting to work on the sections of the wall that needed the most attention.

"He wants you to be my boss?"

"I don't think he trusts me that much."

Daryl's eyes met hers, a flicker of understanding in his gaze. "Rick's got his reasons, but he trusts you. He just shows it differently."

"Just like you have your own way of showing me that you l-o-v-e me?"

"Hmm," he only grunted, but gave her a rare, reassuring smile.

He had never said he loved her. She was just teasing him.

He had been her constant, her rock, through so much. They had fought side by side, shared moments of silence that spoke volumes, and formed a bond that was stronger than any she had known before the world fell apart. The realization, as always, struck her with a cold clarity. Daryl cared for her—she knew that much. But he had never put it into words. Never crossed that final, fragile line.

And part of her feared he never would.

Suddenly, as if knowing she needs a distraction, he turned his attention to her. "C'mon, we've got more work to do."

Sighing, Charlie pushed the thought aside for the moment. There was too much at stake right now, too much danger on the horizon to get lost in her own emotions. They had a job to do, and she couldn't afford to be distracted.

Together, they were unstoppable.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting Alexandria in a soft, golden glow. The walls and makeshift barricades they had worked on all day seemed to shimmer in the light, the fruits of their labor standing strong and ready. Despite the exhaustion tugging at her limbs, Charlie couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. They had done everything they could to prepare, and now, as the day drew to a close, there was a brief moment of peace.

She was about to suggest they take a break when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she turned to find Daryl standing close, his expression softer, more tender than she was used to seeing. His eyes, usually guarded, held a warmth that made her heart skip a beat.

"Hey," he said, his voice a quiet murmur that felt intimate in the fading light.

"Hmm?" she responded, curious and slightly on edge, wondering what had brought on this sudden change in him.

Daryl hesitated, something unspoken lingering in the space between them. "When this is all over," he began, choosing his words carefully, "when we've dealt with the Saviors... I want us to be more than just... this."

Charlie blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daryl took a step closer, his presence solid and reassuring. His hand, rough from years of survival, moved from her shoulder to gently cup her cheek. The gesture was so tender, so unlike the Daryl she knew, that it took her breath away.

"We could...find a place for ourselves," he said, his voice low but filled with a quiet determination. "Our own place."

A small, polite smile formed on her lips as she tried to grasp what he was saying. "I think you've lost me," she admitted, her heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and confusion.

Daryl let out a soft sigh, his gaze steady and sincere. "I've been thinking...After all this is over, I'd like to find a small house in the woods around here. Just you and me."

Charlie's breath caught in her throat as his words sank in. He was talking about a future together—a real, tangible future beyond the constant fight for survival. Her heart swelled with emotion, a warmth spreading through her chest that chased away the doubts and fears she'd been harboring.

Without thinking, she reached up to cover his hand with her own, grounding herself in the moment. "I want that too, Daryl," she said, her voice filled with a quiet certainty. "More than anything."

Daryl's eyes softened even more, and he leaned in, his forehead coming to rest gently against hers.

The weapon cache in Alexandria was a hive of activity as everyone prepared for the inevitable confrontation with the Saviors. Shelves lined with rifles, pistols, and boxes of ammunition filled the room, the metallic scent of gun oil hanging heavy in the air. Andy worked diligently, organizing the supplies, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. But his thoughts were elsewhere.

Every so often, he would steal a glance at Rosita, who was standing a few feet away, methodically cleaning a rifle. Her movements were precise, almost mechanical, but there was a tightness in her posture that hadn't been there before. Andy had overheard the fight she'd had with Abraham, the breakup that had left a visible crack in her.

He had always admired Rosita, the way she carried herself with confidence and resolve. But now, there was something different about her—something vulnerable that made his chest tighten with a mix of empathy and affection.

Rosita, aware of his gaze, felt a wave of irritation rise within her. She could tell Andy knew about her breakup, and the last thing she wanted was anyone's pity. It was bad enough that people were talking about her behind her back; she didn't need them feeling sorry for her too. As Andy continued to glance her way, trying to muster the courage to speak, Rosita could feel her patience wearing thin. She slammed the rifle down on the table a little harder than necessary, the sound echoing through the room.

"Got something to say, Andy?" she snapped, her tone sharper than she intended.

Andy flinched at her sudden outburst, but he quickly recovered, meeting her gaze with a nervous but determined expression. "I, uh... I just..."

"I'm fine," she said curtly, picking up another rifle and turning her back to him, as if the conversation was already over. She knew Andy was just trying to be nice, but she couldn't help the defensive edge in her voice.

"Rosita, I'm not trying to pry," he took a deep breath, pushing down his own insecurities, and took a step closer to her. "I just... I know things have been tough, and I wanted to... I don't know, be there for you, if you need someone."

She paused in her work, her hands stilling as his words hit her. She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Look, Andy, I appreciate it, but I don't need anyone's help. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. You're one of the strongest people I know. But it's okay to not be okay sometimes."

There was no pity in his voice, just a quiet understanding that made her chest tighten with something close to guilt. She had been pushing everyone away, refusing to let anyone see the hurt she was carrying, but Andy's sincerity was hard to ignore. She sighed, her defenses crumbling just a little. "Andy, I'm not looking for anything serious. If that's what you're after, you're wasting your time."

Andy smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "I know. I just... I wanted to let you know that if you ever change your mind, I'm here."

She stared at him for a long moment, searching his eyes for any sign of ulterior motive, but all she found was a quiet, hopeful determination. She shook her head with a small, incredulous smile. "You're really something, you know that?"

He grinned, a blush creeping up his neck. "I've been told that before."

Before she could second-guess herself, Rosita leaned in and pressed her lips to his, surprising both of them with the suddenness of the gesture. The kiss was brief but filled with a mix of emotions. When they pulled apart, Andy looked at her with wide eyes, as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Rosita smirked, trying to mask the confusion and warmth bubbling up inside her.

"Don't get any ideas," she warned, but there was no real heat in her voice.

He nodded, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. "No ideas. Just... whatever this is."

"Just keep that in mind." she said, but she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

As night fell over Alexandria, the once-bustling community grew still, the weight of the day's efforts hanging in the cool air. The people, weary from the day's work, began to settle in, their hearts heavy with anticipation for what was to come. Along the walls, guards took their positions, eyes sharp as they scanned the darkened landscape beyond the safety of the gates. Every rustle of leaves, every distant animal call, was enough to set nerves on edge. The Saviors were out there somewhere, lurking in the shadows, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before they made their move.

Rick Grimes stood in front of his house, his silhouette framed by the faint light of the moon. His eyes were locked on the horizon, his expression hard and resolute. As the leader of this community, he felt the weight of every life in Alexandria on his shoulders. They would be ready. Whatever came, they would face it together.

Not far from where Rick stood, Daryl and Charlie walked side by side, their conversation quiet, their steps in sync. Charlie found herself smiling, despite everything. She laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for a moment, it was as if the weight of the world had lifted. Daryl glanced over at her, his expression softening in the glow of the nearby fire. He didn't say much, but the look in his eyes said enough—she was the reason he could still find these moments of peace amid the chaos.

On the far side of town, Andy hesitated at the entrance to Rosita's house, his heart beating a little faster than usual. Rosita stood at the doorway, her expression unreadable in the shadows. She didn't say anything as she looked at him, just held the door open, a silent invitation that made his pulse quicken. With a deep breath, Andy stepped forward, his earlier nerves returning in full force.

The night grew darker, the stars coming out in full force overhead, as if to remind them all that there was still beauty to be found, even in the midst of darkness.

And when the time came, they would be ready.

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [16] CAPTURED

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: Rick’s group is split. Charlie realizes her sense of life. Daryl gets a surprise at the end of the day.

Warnings: language, violence, death, being captured, mental health

Words: 8.456

A/N: soak up the fluff at the end, because you know what comes in the next episode...*evil laugh* *thunders* *negan's whistling*

"Come on out. Let's talk."

Rick's voice echoed through the silence woods. Charlie stood tense and alert next to Maggie and Carol, the weight of their situation pressing down on her.

"We're not coming out, but we will talk," replied the woman with ginger hair, stepping forward until she was face to face with Charlie. Her eyes were cold, calculating. "Names."

Charlie stared back, refusing to show any sign of fear. "Maggie, Carol," she said, her voice steady. "I'm Charlie."

The ginger-haired woman nodded slowly, a smirk playing on her lips. "We've got a Carol, a Maggie, and a Charlie," she repeated into her radio. "I'm thinking that's something you want to chat about. And it's going to go our way."

"You can see we have one of yours," Rick answered. "We'll trade."

The ginger-haired woman paused, considering. "I'm listening," she said, once again speaking into the radio.

"First I want to make sure they're all right."

The woman nodded, seemingly agreeing to Rick's terms. She turned on her heel and walked over to where Carol, Maggie, and Charlie were standing, her eyes scrutinizing each of their faces. This time, she seemed to decide to give someone else a chance to speak. "I'll know if you try anything else," she warned, her tone icy.

"Rick, it's Carol..." her voice was shaking.

"Oh, not you." she rolled her eyes, annoyed by the woman's shaky voice. She passed Maggie, then stopped right in front of Charlie. "You."

"Rick, it's Charlie. We're all okay. We'll figure this out, so don't..."

"Shut up," the woman interrupted, rolling her eyes again. "Now, let's talk."

"This is the deal. Let them go, you can have your guy back and live."

"Three for one? That's not much of a trade."

"You don't have another choice." Rick said. "Or you would do something about it."

Silence hung in the air, thick with tension. Charlie stood there, listening to the bickering, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on her. The quiet moments stretched out, each second feeling like an eternity.

"Do we have a deal?"

The woman glanced at Charlie, then back at the radio. "I'll get back to you," she said curtly, before signaling her people.

The last thing she remembered was being led through the forest with Maggie and Carol, and now she found herself in a dimly lit room. Charlie blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Maggie was seated next to her, her expression a mixture of concern and determination.

"You're wondering if there's a way out of this." the Ginger said. "There isn't. Not unless I say so." she turned to Carol.

Sitting on the ground with her legs taped, she locked eyes with the ginger-haired woman who stood over her with a stern expression. The room felt smaller now, the air thick with tension. The woman turned her attention to Charlie, studying her with an intensity.

"Don't look at me that way," she said. "I already want to kill you all. It's taking all I have not to, so don't test me."

Soon all three were left alone in the room as their capturers left. After the doors were closed and they heard the gunfire from behind it, they scanned their surroundings, searching desperately for anything that could help them break free from their bonds. Their captors had been thorough, leaving nothing within reach that could aid in their escape.

Maggie started to rub her taped hands against the walls' corner as it was the only sharp thing. Time passed slowly as they continued their silent search, every minute feeling like an eternity. The sound, or rather the silence, outside the room made three of them freeze, holding their breath.

Three figures entered again. Charlie's heart skipped a beat—the man and two women who had been with the ginger in the forest. The tension raised and Charlie could see the strain in Carol's eyes, the way her breaths were coming faster and shallower. Her hard breaths were becoming louder and louder.

"Shut up," the ginger woman ordered from above the man, whose wounds she had to treat. "Molly, give me the robe."

"I'm not losing it," he said.

"So you grind it out," the ginger said.

Charlie's eyes darted away from their captors, landing on Carol. Panic surged through Charlie as she realized she was almost choking. She wanted to rush to her, to do something—anything—to help, but her own bindings kept her immobilized. Her heart pounded in her chest, every second stretching out in a torturous eternity.

Carol's eyes met Charlie's, wide with a mix of fear and urgency, full of tears.

"Hey," Maggie tried to turn their attention to her, but it came out as a muffle.

As Charlie's eyes shifted back to the room, she noticed Maggie's expression was a mix of frustration and determination. Charlie couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance. Maggie had been trying to capture their captors' attention, perhaps hoping to negotiate or distract them, but she had been completely ignored. Charlie clenched her jaw, irritation simmering beneath the surface.

"HEY!" Charlie used her abilities gained by living with four boys, her muffled scream brought the attention of the woman named Paula.

"What?!" she asked furiously and untied her mouth.

"She's hyperventilating," she pointed her chin at Carol. "Somebody needs to take her gag off."

"She's a nervous little bird, ain't she?" the old woman snickered, but approached Carol and took of her gag.

"Look at you," the third woman said, pointing at her with her gun. "Bitch, how did you make it this far?"

Charlie couldn't shake the feeling of confusion that gnawed at her as she watched Carol. Maggie, too, seemed perplexed, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Carol had always been the bravest among them. She had faced down threats far worse than this, had stood strong when others faltered.

Yet here she was, visibly shaken, her hands trembling as she worked to free herself from the bindings. It didn't make sense. Charlie wondered if it was the accumulated stress, the endless fighting, and the constant fear that had finally caught up with her.

"Honey, you need to take some yoga breaths and calm your ass down." the old one said again. Then she noticed something in Carol's hands - a cross. "Oh, you're on of those."

Charlie's mind drifted as she took in the scene. She remembered the time when Sophia disappeared. Carol had been a woman of faith back then, often seen praying, seeking solace in her belief. But that was a lifetime ago. Since those dark days, Carol had transformed into a woman of action, someone who believed in herself and the strength of those around her.

Seeing the cross now, Charlie couldn't help but wonder if Carol's faith had somehow resurfaced.

"Are you actually afraid to die?" the Ginger asked. "All this and you're scared of getting your ticked punched."

"It doesn't matter what happens to me," Carol said weakly. "Just don't hurt Charlie...After the death of my daughter, she's like a daughter to me. And I beg you not to hurt Maggie. And her baby."

The room fell silent, everyone turning to look at Charlie and Maggie. Shock registered on the faces of their captors. "She doesn't look pregnant," the young one spat, untying Maggie's mouth.

"I'm only two months, I think," Maggie answered, breathless.

"You're some kind of stupid, getting knocked up at a time like this," the ginger-haired woman commented, and Maggie scoffed.

"You think that's funny?" the ginger demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"When was it ever smart to get knocked up?" Maggie shot back, defiance in her voice.

Paula laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "Isn't it just cute? Making a bite-size snack for the dead."

Charlie couldn't listen to them anymore. She was disgusted by their callousness, their lack of humanity. Her mind churned with anger and frustration. These women had no understanding of the bonds that held their group together, which only made her believe that their group, the Saviors, was just a bunch of heartless murderers.

She clenched her fists, feeling the tape dig into her skin. She tried to focus her thoughts on something different...

"Mom, dad, Finn, Will, Luke, Pete, Amy, Ed, Jim, Jacqui, Sophia, Dale, Shane, Jimmy, Patricia, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle, Andrea, Karen, Zach, Patrick, Hershel, Mika, Lizzie, Bob, Tyreese, Beth, Noah, Deanna..."

The man in the corner groaned, the sound raw and pained. Charlie's attention snapped to him. He was a scruffy-looking man, his face twisted in discomfort, bound just as securely as they were. It was the same man who she shot back in the woods. "My arm feels like it's on fire!"

"You pull that off, you gonna be nothing but a spigot," scolded him older woman.

"Scout crew is coming," Paula sighed. "They're 30 minutes out, maybe less."

"Make sure you won't cry like this once W comes," old Molly added. "Or his father."

The dark stain on his shirt had spread further, and his breathing was becoming shallow and erratic. His forehead was covered in cold sweat. He was minutes from dying, and the only thing that could stop this would be the most drastic way."He doesn't have 30 minutes," Charlie said, turning all eyes towards her. "His nerves are dying. He's loosing his arm and maybe even life."

"Bullshit."

Charlie shrugged, closed her eyes, and leaned her head against the wall. Charlie took a deep breath, steadying herself against the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She couldn't make anyone to listen to her.

"My dad lost his leg," Maggie said. "We know that much."

"Talk to Rick and maybe the other guy is still alive."

Paula opened her mouth, but Charlie was the first to answer. "Thirty minutes. Right?"

Paula's cold reaction left a tense silence hanging in the room, but Charlie's attention was drawn back to the dying man in the corner. His gaze locked onto hers with a mixture of pain and accusation, his eyes burning with a heated intensity that sent a chill down her spine.

"You know my problem, smartass?" the man raised to his legs.

"I don't," Charlie answered. "But I guess you'll tell me."

"She did this!" he screamed. "And now she's sitting here and tries to be so smart how to help me." he walked up to Charlie. "I don't care about the trade! Let's do them all right now."

"We wait for others," Paula said. "We need to be smart, and we need insurance. W told us to wait."

"Shoot her in the arm, too," he said with fire in his eyes as he was looking at Charlie.

Charlie's eyes met with Paula's, her answer was immediate. "No."

"You really gonna stick up for some gutless bitch over me?"

"Shut up," Paula said to him.

"Don't push me, Paula!" he groaned and curled with pain, but suddenly he straightened and hit the ginger in the face.

Carol, seeing the man hit Paula, instinctively moved forward, a flash of concern crossing her face. Despite their situation, her compassionate nature couldn't ignore someone in distress, even their captor. Especially, when she had her harsh past with Ed Peletier. She felt empathy towards the woman as she was once abused, too. She wanted to help somehow, but her arms were still tied.

Suddenly, Maggie lunged forward, using her legs to tackle the man in a desperate attempt to protect Paula. The force of her tackle caught him off guard, and he staggered backward, momentarily stunned. But as he regained his bearings, his anger flared, and he retaliated swiftly. In an instant, he seized Maggie by the shoulders, his grip vice-like. Maggie winced in pain, but she refused to cry out. However, the man's rage was uncontrollable.

Seeing Maggie in danger ignited a surge of adrenaline in Charlie. Without hesitation, she moved in, aiming a swift kick at the man's leg with all the force she could muster. The impact caused him to loosen his grip on Maggie momentarily, giving her a precious moment to break free.

Enraged, the man turned his fury towards Charlie as she tried to help Maggie by kicking him. His eyes blazed with a primal intensity as he directed his violent onslaught towards her. With relentless force, he began kicking Charlie's body, each blow landing with brutal force. Her gritted her teeth against the pain, refusing to give in even as each kick threatened to overwhelm her.

Then, the next thing she knew, the wounded man collapsed on the ground. Charlie turned back and saw Paula panting, furry in her eyes, hiding her gun inside her pocket. "You really are some kind of stupid," the woman sneered, her voice dripping with contempt as she looked at Charlie and Maggie. "Take her out. See if she knows anything."

Charlie's heart raced with panic as the third woman grabbed Maggie roughly and began dragging her towards the door. The room spun with chaos and fear as Charlie struggled to push herself up from the floor.

"No, no, no!" Charlie's voice was weak but filled with desperate determination. Her face pressed against the unforgiving surface, she closed her eyes, blocking out the chaos around her.

Each passing minute felt like an eternity as Charlie grappled with fear and helplessness. She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying not to lose the feeling in them. Her mind raced with a thousand scenarios, each more terrifying than the last.

Carol sat nearby, her own worry etched into every line of her face. They exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. They both felt the weight of responsibility for Maggie's safety, knowing that their actions—or inaction—could determine her fate.

She closed her eyes and started rocking her body, whispering: Mom, dad, Finn, Will, Luke, Pete, Amy, Ed, Jim, Jacqui, Sophia, Dale, Shane, Jimmy, Patricia, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle, Andrea, Karen, Zach, Patrick, Hershel, Mika, Lizzie, Bob, Tyreese, Beth, Noah, Deanna...

"Thank you," small voice said from the opposite corner of the room. Charlie opened her eyes and looked at Carol. "For helping us. My husband Ed, used to..."

"Yeah?! I don't care!" Paula yelled. "Because I see exactly who you are, Carol. You're pathetic. You want to think we're just the same? You're wrong. He's just a warm body for my bed. I could kill him in his sleep," she said as she looked down at the cross in Carol's hands. "Do you really believe in that crap?"

"My faith got me through the death of my daughter..."

"Well, good news is maybe you'll see her again soon." she spat. "And that would be the best option when W or his father come here."

Then the room fell silent.

Charlie sat quietly, her back against the cold stone wall, her eyes closed. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her. She heard Paula calling Rick over the radio. Charlie strained to catch the words, her mind racing with questions about their fate and the safety of her friends.

"You don't have to do this. You don't have to fight."

"Your people killed all of my people. Of course we got to fight."

"We didn't want to."

"But you did. So tell me why."

"Your people ambushed my people on the road. Tried to take everything we had. They were gonna kill them."

"So now we know what happened to T's group...Idiots. Probably put on a big show." she scoffed. "Okay. Fair play." she shrugged. "You were just defending yourselves. Buy, see, your people killed them on the road, right? So why not stop?"

"They said they were working for Negan."

Charlie's heart sank as she listened to Paula's cryptic response. The words "We are all Negan" echoed in her mind, sending a chill down her spine. It was clear that Paula and her group were deeply entrenched in something sinister, something far larger and more dangerous than she had imagined.

"What does that mean?" Charlie's voice trembled slightly as she dared to voice her confusion and fear.

Paula's cold gaze flicked towards Charlie, her expression unable to read. For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, Charlie held her breath, waiting for an answer that never came.

The realization hit her hard—they were not dealing with ordinary bandits or survivors. Paula's allegiance to this mysterious Negan, whoever he was, hinted at a dangerous community, one that could threaten their lives and their chances of escape.

Charlie glanced at Carol, whose eyes mirrored her own concern and apprehension. They were in deeper trouble than they had realized, caught in the midst of forces they didn't fully understand.

Time had slipped by, the minutes and hours blurring together in the dimly lit room. Charlie's eyes, weary yet vigilant, fell upon the man slumped in the middle of the room between her and Carol. The wound, left untreated, had worsened, and she knew it was only a matter of time before his body gives up to the infection, and it will turn him into a walker.

Especially that he wasn't breathing anymore.

The realization hit her with a jolt of dread. They were trapped in this small, confined space, and the imminent threat of a walker among them added a new layer of urgency to their predicament. Charlie's heart pounded as she glanced at Carol, who was still clutching the cross, her face a mask of worry and determination.

"Can I have one?" Carol asked looking at the cigarette in the older woman's mouth.

"I didn't know you approved, little bird." the old woman said.

"I don't."

Molly leaned in and gave Carol one of cigarettes, lightning it quickly.

"Why are you so afraid of?" Paula leaned to Carol. "You can't even stick to your own principles."

"You don't want me to stick to my principles," Carol mumbled.

"And look at you. You're no longer so mouthy." she said to Charlie, and she said nothing. "I was a secretary before. I fetched coffee for my boss. And made him feel good about himself. There was this one inspirational email...A young woman was having a hard time and she told her mother she wanted to give up. So her mom went to the kitchen and started boiling three pots of water. She put a carrot in one, an egg in the other, and ground coffee beans in the last one. Her mom said: Look, all three things went through the same water. Carrot went in strong and came out soft. The egg was fragile and came out hard. But coffee beans changed the water itself." she recite from her memory, stopping in her tracks for a moment. "You're supposed to want to be coffee beans. For me, coffee was just a thing my boss would drink up. I was at work when the army took over D.C. We weren't allowed to leave. Only important people. I was stuck with my boss. Not my family. My husband. My four girls."

As Paula recited the story, Charlie's mind wandered to her own experiences, the hardships she had faced and the losses. She could relate to the feeling of being powerless, of having to reinvent herself over and over again to fit the expectations of the new world. But unlike Paula, Charlie still held onto a sliver of hope, a belief that there was more to life than just surviving.

Paula's eyes, once filled with a mixture of disdain and indifference, now held a flicker of vulnerability as she spoke about her past. Charlie realized that beneath the tough exterior was a woman who had been forced to abandon her old self to navigate the harsh realities of the world.

The room felt silent.

"My boss was weak and stupid. He was the first person I killed so that I could live." she said. "Do you remember your first kill?"

"Yes," Charlie nodded, almost hearing Lori's screams.

"And how many people have you killed?" she asked further.

"Four," Charlie did a quick math in her head.

Paula scoffed.

"I stopped counting when I hit double digits. And I don't even feel bad about it. I am not like you," she shook her head. "I'm still me. But better. I lost everything and it made me stronger."

"You sure about that?" Charlie asked before she could bite her tongue.

"Yes, Charlie," Paula said and crouched before her. "When you lose everything you become unstoppable. No worries about others. No remorse. No feelings. No fear," she said, looking into her eyes. "You can call me selfish or a monter, but I don't care. I am alive."

Charlie met Paula's gaze, and for a moment, the words sank in. Paula's logic was brutal, but it made a twisted kind of sense. In a world where survival was a daily struggle, cutting off emotions and focusing solely on staying alive seemed like a reasonable way to cope. Charlie wondered if she had been holding on to her humanity too tightly, if she had been too afraid to let go of the past and fully embrace the ruthless reality of their world.

Paula's words also sparked a flicker of doubt. Would she be able to protect the people she loved if she continued to hold on to her emotions? Would she be strong enough to face the horrors ahead? Even now, facing death, she was worried about Maggie, her mind wondered to Andy, and she was regretting things she hadn't said to Daryl.

"With those people? Those killers?" Carol asked with a voice filled with disgust.

"Your people are killers, Carol," Paula said turning to her. "That makes you a killer."

"You," said Carol after a moment of silence. "You're the one."

"Excuse me?"

Charlie furrowed her eyebrows, glancing between Carol and Paula, confused by Carol's sudden outburst.

Carol took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering as she looked at Paula. "You're the one who's afraid to die. And you're going to. You will die. That's gonna happen, if you don't work this out."

"Are you going to kill me?" Paula asked as if she hadn't been threatened just a second ago. "Or maybe your panicked daughter?"

"I hope not."

After Carol's words the room felt colder, the air heavy with tension. Everyone could hear the wires in Paula's head turning as he was analyzing every one of them.

"Asshole," Paula said as she picked up the radio. "We want to make the trade."

"That's good."

"There's a large field with a sign that says: God is dead."

"We will meet you there. Ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes." she agreed, and Charlie's heart almost melted with relief - there was a hope for them. But after hanging up, Paula shook her head. "It was too easy."

"Maybe they're itching to get their people back," Molly shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing.

"No, there was no static. They are close. They are probably already here," Paula said. "We were careful but there were tracks, there had to be. They killed everyone back home. They have weapons, they know what they're doing. They want to kill us."

"No," Carol protested. "You have to listen to me, please," she cried. "Rick is a man of his word. He wouldn't put us...put Maggie at risk to attack."

"Then he's just as stupid as you are," Paula scoffed and then she picked up the radio, changing the channel. "What's your ETA?"

"A few minutes away, but the car's running on fumes."

The voice. The one that answered her.

Charlie froze. That voice—it was familiar. She had heard it somewhere before, but she couldn't place it. Her mind raced, trying to connect the dots, but the more she tried to focus, the more elusive the memory became. Was it just her mind playing tricks on her, or was there a deeper significance to this voice?

"We have gas. We'll fill you up and then we move. Radio when you're back in the perimeter."

"Copy that."

After that, Paula and Molly began to prepare to leave, their movements hurried and tense. The air was thick with the sense of impending danger. Charlie watched them, her heart pounding in her chest. Their captors' nervous energy was palpable, amplifying the uncertainty that hung over them all.

When the women finally left the room, Carol took a deep breath, and her facial expression changed completely. Gone was the fearful, frail woman who had been pleading for mercy. In her place was the steely, determined Carol that Charlie knew so well.

Charlie blinked, a realization dawning on her. It had all been an act. Just like when they first arrived in Alexandria, Carol had been playing a role. Her fear, her weakness—it had all been a carefully constructed façade to deceive their captors.

"And the Oscar goes to..." whispered Charlie. Carol's eyes met Charlie's, and a flicker of a knowing smile passed between them. Charlie felt a surge of admiration and relief. She had been in control the whole time, biding her time and waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Come on."

Moving swiftly but cautiously, they crept out of the room, their senses on high alert for any signs of their captors. The dim lighting and eerie silence of the building heightened their anxiety, but they pressed on, driven by their mission. They navigated through the maze of hallways, pausing occasionally to listen for any sounds. Charlie's heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm, drawing strength from Carol's unwavering presence beside her.

Together, Charlie and Carol carefully helped Maggie remove the tape from her wrists, once they found her in one of the rooms. Maggie winced slightly as they peeled it away, but she managed a relieved smile once her hands were free.

"Is everything okay?" Charlie asked softly, her concern evident.

Maggie nodded, her hand instinctively resting on her belly. "Yes, we're okay," she replied, her voice steady despite what they had just endured.

"Good," Charlie said with a gentle smile, relieved to see Maggie safe.

Carol's voice broke the momentary silence. "They spread out, but I think we can pass them."

"We can't leave them like that," Maggie said stubbornly.

"Maggie, we better just go." Charlie said, having enough of the things she went through today.

"No. We have to finish this. We have to." Maggie protested.

Charlie watched Carol closely. There was a subtle change in her demeanor, a weariness that hadn't been there before. Carol's usually steady gait was slightly unsteady, and her shoulders seemed to sag ever so slightly.

Without a word, her friend, turned and started walking away - it was their sign to follow her.

As Charlie, Carol, and Maggie watched in horror, the man who had turned into a walker lunged at Molly and bit into her arm. Charlie felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a mixture of fear and helplessness washing over her. When Maggie swiftly disarmed Molly, taking her by surprise, Charlie's thoughts raced. She knew they needed the gun for protection, but observing Maggie hitting the old woman in her face with the hand of her gun was a scene from the horror movie.

"Let's go," she panted as she got up and the three of them walked outside of the doors.

They hurried through the dark corridors, their footsteps echoing faintly in the silence. The air was thick with tension as they navigated through the abandoned building, every shadow and creak setting their nerves on edge.

As they turned a corner, their path ahead was blocked by a makeshift barricade of walkers. Charlie grimaced, realizing that their captors had strategically placed the undead to hinder their escape and deter any intruders. The trapped walkers moaned and reached out with decaying hands, their presence a grim reminder of the dangers that surrounded them.

"They're using them to keep us in, and to keep others out," Charlie muttered grimly to Carol, her voice barely above a whisper. The gravity of their situation weighed heavily upon them as they assessed their options.

"Come on, we have to find them."

Gunshots.

"No, we don't," Charlie said kneeling on the ground. They all knew who was shooting at them, as she must have seen her comrades dead in the room.

Suddenly, Carol got up with outstretched arm as she was the one holding the gun. "Just run."

"Shoot her," Maggie said immediately.

"Go on. Do it," Paula said confidently. "You've killed Donnie. You've killed Molly. Your people have destroyed my home."

"Get out of here," Carol whispered, aiming at Paula.

Watching Carol closely, Charlie saw glimpses of empathy in her eyes, even as they navigated the treacherous surroundings. It struck Charlie that Carol wasn't just a survivor; she was a victim of her own psychological game. Charlie understood that her compassion ran deep, perhaps seeing a reflection of her own vulnerabilities in Paula's actions.

"Carol," Maggie said.

"You have no idea the things I've done," Paula said walking closer and closer to the three women."What I've given up...what I had to do."

"Just run," Carol almost begged the woman.

"Carol, shoot her," Maggie's voice got stern.

"Go ahead. I've already lost everything."

Gun shot.

Charlie's heart pounded as she watched Carol stumble forward, startled by the sudden attack of the walker that had managed to break free. The adrenaline surged through her veins as instinct took over, driving her to swiftly intervene and protect her friend.

Without thinking she caught a knife that Maggie threw her, and with a swift motion, Charlie killed a walker. Her moves were automatic as if she was doing this her whole life.

As the immediate danger subsided, they caught the voice of their third captor calling out for Paula or Molly, unsure of their whereabouts. Without hesitation, Maggie moved swiftly towards Michelle, aiming to settle whatever score remained between them.

"Carol," Charlie called out urgently. "Give me the gun."

"I can't," Carol replied, her voice trembling with uncertainty. She wasn't sure what Charlie intended to do, and the fear in her eyes was palpable.

In the distance, Charlie could hear the sounds of a struggle and Maggie's desperate screams. Her heart pounded in her chest, anxiety tightening its grip around her. "Give me the gun!" she repeated, more forcefully this time.

Reluctantly, Carol handed over the weapon, her hands shaking. As soon as Charlie had the gun in her grip, she sprinted towards the source of the commotion. Her mind raced, adrenaline fueling her movements.

She burst into the room just in time to see Maggie being overpowered by Michelle. Without hesitation, Charlie aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot echoed through the space, and Michelle's body crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

"Five," Charlie whispered to herself.

Maggie, Charlie, and Carol exchanged hurried glances, their hearts pounding with urgency as they made a silent pact to run. They took a few swift steps forward, only to find Paula blocking their path with a determined gaze. Her presence halted them in their tracks, each of them tense and ready for whatever would come next.

"I'll do it," Carol said, spreading her arm in expectation to feel the cold gun.

"Are you sure?"

"Give it to me!"

With a heavy heart, Charlie gave back what Carol wanted. She trusted that her friend would he able to do what she should.

"You're good," Paula laughed. "I believed you."

"I told you to run," Carol tried to explain.

"If you could do all this, what were you so afraid of?"

Carol walked towards Paula slowly, her expression somber yet resolute. "I was afraid of this," she murmured, her voice tinged with regret and a hint of sorrow.

The ginger started to laugh.

"Carol, what the hell?"

Charlie's heart raced as Paula knocked the gun from Carol's grasp with a swift, calculated strike. The metallic clatter echoed in the tense silence, and her mind raced with worry for her friend. Paula moved with surprising ease, her movements fluid and precise as she engaged Carol in a fierce struggle.

Charlie's thoughts raced as she watched the intense exchange. Before she could reach for the gun, amidst their struggle, a low growl echoed through the room. Charlie's eyes widened in horror as a walker lunged towards Paula. The chaotic scene took a chilling turn as the walker sank its teeth into Paula's face.

As Carol's shoulders trembled as silent tears streamed down her face, the crackle of the radio broke the tense silence, "We're approaching the perimeter. Do you copy?"

Charlie's eyes darted towards the radio, her heart skipping a beat. Without hesitation, she reached out and grabbed the device, her fingers trembling slightly with adrenaline. She brought the radio close to her mouth, taking a deep breath before responding, "Meet us on the kill floor."

Her voice was steady, masking the unease and urgency she felt inside. She crossed eyes with Maggie, who was still in shock of what happened.

Back in the dense cover of the woods sat Rick and his group, their faces marked with tension and exhaustion. The plan had been to wait for contact from Paula, to negotiate a trade and bring their people back safely. But as the hours dragged on, doubt and worry gnawed at them.

Rick glanced at his watch, the minutes ticking by agonizingly slowly.

Daryl paced back and forth, his crossbow slung over his shoulder. Glenn was getting more and more irritated at his friend and at the situation he was in. “They’re in danger.”

"I understand how you both feel. Believe me, I do. But rushing in without a plan could get them killed. We need to be smart about this."

Suddenly, Andy, who had been sitting quietly nearby, stood up abruptly, his face pale and eyes wide with panic. "No! No, we can't wait! We have to go in now!"

"Andy, listen—"

"No, you listen!" Andy cut him off, his breathing rapid and erratic. "You don't get it! They're in there, and something could be happening to them right now! We have to go in!"

Rick stepped forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Andy, I know you're scared, but—"

"Scared? Scared?" Andy's voice rose to a near scream. "This isn't about being scared! It's about doing something! Anything! We can't just sit here!"

Glenn moved closer, trying to reach out to Andy. "Hey, hey, calm down. We're all worried, but freaking out isn't going to help anyone."

But Andy was beyond reason. He started pacing, his hands shaking uncontrollably. "We have to go in! We have to go in now! We can't just sit here!"

“You need to calm down."

The young man turned on him, his eyes wild. "Calm down? How can I calm down? How you can be so calm?They're in there! They need us!"

"Andy, we're going to get them out. But we have to do it the right way,” Rick repeated. “If we go in without a plan, we could all end up dead."

Andy shook his head violently. "No! No, I can't wait. I can't. I have to do something!"

"We're going to get them out. We just need to be smart about it. Remember, Maggie's tough. Carol and Charlie, too. They'll hold on until we can get to them,” Glenn said in the calmest voice possible. “But we need you to keep it together so we can all make it out alive."

"But what if they're hurt? What if—"

But Daryl, standing to the side with his patience running thin, saw that it wasn't enough. Besides, Andy’s reaction was only making him more freaked out and willing to find the place they were keeping the girls and kill anyone in his way. He stepped forward, his voice rough and commanding. "Enough with the soft talk, Glenn. Boy, get a grip!" Daryl grabbed Andy by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. "This ain't helping anyone, least of all them! You wanna save them? You keep your head straight and stick to the damn plan!"

"But Daryl, I—"

"No buts!" Daryl snapped, his voice a growl. "You think you're the only one worried? We're all scared! But running in there without a plan is gonna get us all killed. You get that? You wanna help? Then pull yourself together and follow orders!"

Andy swallowed hard, his panic slowly giving way to a sullen, tense silence. He nodded shakily, clearly still distressed but no longer on the verge of losing control.

"Come on, Andy," Tara placed her hand on his shoulder and pulled him away from the three men.

"Good,” Rick nodded at Tara. "Now let's regroup and figure out our next move."

Tara helped him sit down, crouching in front of him to maintain eye contact. Andy looked at her, his eyes wide with anxiety, but he let her lead him to a large rock nearby.

"Breathe," she instructed, her voice calm and steady. "In and out. Focus on your breath."

He tried to follow her instructions, his breaths coming in ragged at first but gradually slowing down. Tara stayed with him, her presence a grounding force in the midst of his panic.

"We're gonna get them back," she reassured him, and he was nodding his head.

Couple steps away stood Abraham, his arms crossed over his chest as he listened to the conversation unfolding between Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and Andy. His face was set in a deep frown, worry lines creasing his forehead without him even noticing. He could feel the tension in the air, and it gnawed at him, making his gut churn.

Sasha noticed Abraham's troubled expression and walked over to him, her steps deliberate and calm. "You look like a bomb, ready tu burst.”

The man grunted, not taking his eyes off the group. "This ain't sittin' right with me, Sasha. We're wastin' time, sittin' here flappin' our gums while our people are out there, maybe hurt, maybe worse."

"It's about Charlie."

"And Maggie and Carol."

“You aren’t so worried about them,” she shook her head, looking at him.

“If Charlie’s there I know that Maggie and the baby are save,” he answered. "But she's the last person to kidnap. She runs her tongue and can't be quiet for her own damn good. She’s the first one to get herself killed, and I know something about it. And she's...She's still weak."

"You're right, but...”

“If she lives…somehow,” Abraham interrupted her. “I’ll kill her.”

“You really like her,” Sasha smiled.

“Is it bad?”

She shrugged. “For a person, who claims to be unlikeable she has rather large numbers of people worried about her.”

“Hmm,” Abraham smiled. “She’s a good girl. You should trust her more…Your brother did.”

“And look where he is now,” Sasha mumbled under her breath, but he heard. His piercing eyes landed on her and Sasha had nothing more but to sigh. “If she’s out or this…which I’m sure she will…I’ll try to trust her.”

Abraham smiled gratefully and placed his hand on the woman’s back. Then he looked on front of him, repeating that Charlie is a soldier, a survivor, and she’ll come back save and sound.

After rather long time, Daryl approached Rick, his steps deliberate and his expression tense. He needed to talk to Rick, to convince him that they couldn't wait any longer, but he was careful not to reveal too much. Despite the urgency, he didn't want to betray the depth of his feelings for Charlie. "Rick," Daryl said, his voice low as he came to a stop next to their leader. "We gotta do something now. We’ve been sitting here enough."

Rick looked up from the map he was studying, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I know you're worried, Daryl. But we need to stick to the plan."

"This ain't about me bein' worried,” he protested. “It's about gettin' 'em outta there before it's too late."

"Sure it is,” said amused Rick, who despite being worried, found this situation hilarious. “You know, you could just say it. We all know how you feel about Charlie."

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ain't nothin' to say. Just don't wanna lose more people."

"Of course,” Rick nodded. “But just so you know, it's okay to care. We're all in this together, and we all have people we can't bear to lose."

Before Daryl could respond, his radio crackled to life. Paula's voice came through, sharp and authoritative. "Asshole. We want to make the trade."

"That's good." Rick nodded, looking at Daryl.

"There's a large field with a sign that says: God is dead."

"We will meet you there," Grimes answered. "Ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes."

"Alright people, let's go!" Rick yelled and signed to his group that it's time for the action.

Time seemed to blur as they finally stepped out of the grim building, the weight of what had happened pressing heavily on Charlie's mind. She felt numb, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and shock. The memory of having to kill Paula after she turned into a walker, along with the others that had trapped them, haunted her.

Charlie's gaze was distant, her steps heavy with exhaustion and the emotional toll of the recent events. The fresh air outside did little to clear her mind. As they walked, she replayed the horrifying moments over and over, the images of Paula and the walkers seared into her memory.

"Maggie!"

Charlie's gaze drifted upward, breaking free from her turbulent thoughts. She saw Glenn wrapping his arms around her tightly, holding her as if he'd never let go. Maggie clung to him, her own relief evident as she buried her face in his shoulder.

She turned her head once she heard a familiar voice, and saw Daryl approaching Carol, his expression a mix of concern and determination."You are okay?" he asked, holding the woman's shoulder. "You start a fire?"

"Yeah," Carol nodded.

Daryl's eyes widened when he spotted Charlie standing a bit further back. He quickly closed the distance between them, his face a mixture of relief and concern.

"Hey!" Daryl called. She felt his rough hand on her cheek. "You good?"

"No."

"Come here," he said and pulled her to his chest, squeezing to his body. Feeling the solid warmth of Daryl's embrace, Charlie allowed herself to lean into him, the tension slowly fading away.

Daryl nodded, his shoulders visibly relaxing. For the first time since they had been separated, he allowed himself a deep breath, the relief palpable. "We stick together from now on," he said, his voice firm with determination. "No more getting separated."

She couldn't answer as her throat squeezed at his words. Charlie just nodded in response, wrapping her arms tighter around Daryl. The comfort of his presence was almost overwhelming.

Out of the corner of her eye, Charlie saw Andy standing a few steps behind Daryl, his shoulders sagging with visible relief. She gently pushed Daryl away and moved towards Andy, her eyes filling with tears of relief and joy. Andy opened his arms wide, and Charlie rushed into them, hugging him tightly."I'm sorry," Andy cried.

"It's alright." she said, his voice choked with emotion.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the horrors of the day seemed to fade just a bit. Charlie turned at the sound of Rick's voice cutting through the air. His tone was firm."Your friends are dead," Rick said to the man. "No one's coming for you."

"I don't...He should be here..."

Charlie observed the man, Paula's friend, standing amidst the aftermath with a mixture of shock and disbelief etched across his face. His gaze moved from one empty spot to another. The weight of loss and the reality of his situation were palpable in his expression.

"What?" Rick furrowed his eyebrows. "You might talk now."

"W should be here."

"I'm gonna ask you one last time. How'd you get the bike?"

"We found it." the man whispered.

"Like hell you did!" answered angry Daryl.

"We found it."

"Was Negan in that building last night, or was he here?"

"Both." the man said, and reconciled his courage as he realized that he lost everything."I'm Negan, shithead. There's a whole world of fun that we can talk about."

Rick's jaw tightened at the answer. Charlie could read it his eyes that Grimes was understanding that their actions of today will definitely get back on them somehow. "I'm sorry it had to come to this."

Gunshot.

Charlie's stomach churned with a sickening mix of emotions as she processed the aftermath. She leaned against a nearby wall, closing her eyes briefly to steady herself. The weight of their actions pressed heavily on her conscience, each decision made in the heat of survival now casting a long shadow of doubt.

The world was nothing like it used to anymore.

Late at night, Charlie coming back to her house as she was in the infirmary, being observed by Denise. When she was close enough, she saw Carol sitting alone in a corner of their porch.

Carol, usually a pillar of strength, seemed smaller somehow in the dim light. Charlie knew that beneath her stoic exterior was still the woman from the quarry - a scared mother and wife. It reminded Charlie that she wasn’t the only one who was fighting her demons and trying to find a way to live.

As she debated approaching Carol, Charlie hesitated, unsure if words could offer solace or if silence would be more comforting. After a moment of hesitation, Charlie sat down beside her. "Carol," she said softly, breaking the silence.

The woman looked up, her eyes reflecting a mix of weariness and relief. "Hey," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"How are you holding up?"

Carol let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. "Today... it was rough."

"Yeah," Charlie nodded in agreement, remembering the chaos and danger they had faced just hours ago. "We've been through a lot."

Silence settled between them again, broken only by the distant sounds of Alexandria settling into its nighttime routine. Charlie glanced at Carol, wanting to offer comfort but unsure of what to say.

"I think I might have killed 18 people," said Carol into the night. "20...I should have killed Donnie, too, in the woods."

"That was on me," Charlie answered.

"I had a clean shot," she shook her head. "I should have done that."

"You were just shocked."

"I don't get shocked," she argued. "None of this would've happened if I had just killed him."

"Don't think about it," Charlie murmured.

"I can't stop," Carol replied, her gaze distant.

"It's already in the past, Carol," Charlie reassured, her eyes reflecting empathy for her friend's turmoil. She knew the weight of memories and decisions lingered heavily on her mind, especially after the day's trials.

"I know," she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with regret. "But I can't help but wonder if things could have been different."

Charlie reached out, gently placing her hand on Carol's arm. "You did what you had to do," she said with conviction. "We all did. And we're here now."

"I just... sometimes I wish..."

"I know," Charlie interrupted softly, squeezing Carol's arm gently. "But dwelling on 'what ifs' won't change what happened. We have to focus on what's ahead of us."

"I think we reached our limit," Carol said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion.

Charlie studied Carol's face, recognizing the lines of worry etched deeper than usual.

"It feels like we're constantly pushing forward, trying to survive," Carol continued, her tone tinged with frustration. "But no matter how hard we try to leave the past behind, it catches up with us."

Charlie nodded in understanding, her own thoughts mirroring Carol's sentiments. She had seen the toll it took on everyone, the compromises they made, the sacrifices they endured to protect what was left.

She wrapped her arms around Carol, holding her friend close. "I just want to run away from all of this," Carol confessed softly, her voice tinged with weariness and vulnerability.

Charlie tightened her embrace, offering silent support. She understood Carol's sentiment all too well. The constant struggle for survival, the difficult decisions they faced daily—it was enough to wear down even the strongest among them.

"I know," Charlie murmured, her voice gentle yet filled with empathy.

The quiet creak of the door opening drew his attention. He didn't need to look to know it was Charlie. Her presence was a familiar comfort, a reminder that not everything in this world was lost. He listened as she moved quietly, her footsteps soft and careful. His eyes were closed, but he was far from asleep, lost in the thoughts.

Carefully, Charlie laid down beside him, her body instinctively seeking the warmth and reassurance of his closeness. She turned her head to look at him, studying the lines of his face softened in the dim light filtering through the window. With a sigh, she thought about how close they had come to danger earlier. The fear of losing him had gripped her heart like never before. It was in that moment, lying beside him, that she realized she could have died today without fully expressing her feelings.

"Daryl," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

“Mmm?”

"I love you."

The words hit him like a jolt. He hadn't expected it, hadn't prepared to hear them. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of surprise, warmth, and a profound sense of belonging.

She waited, her heart pounding in her chest, unsure of what his response would be.

His gaze met hers. Daryl felt a rush of emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. Love was something he had always struggled with—expressing it, accepting it. But it was Charlie.

Words had never been his strong suit, so he didn't say it back. But he wanted her to know, to feel what he felt. Without a word, he reached out, his rough hand gently brushing against hers, squeezing it lightly.

In that quiet moment, lying together in the aftermath of chaos, Charlie felt a sense of peace. She had laid bare her heart, risking everything, and in return found solace in his silent presence. They didn't need words to affirm what they already knew— what they had was a rare and precious gift.

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [15] TIME OF DECISION

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: Charlie once again doubts Rick’s decisions. She’s not convinced to the rightfulness of the mission. She has to pick who she wants to protect. Her choice brings consequences.

Warnings: guns, language, walkers, mention of killing, and typical twd things if I missed sth

Words: 4.258

A/N: Hello :) I would like to apologize for not uploading a chapter, but I finished it just moments ago. I was busy with exams for the past month. I promise that next chapter will be published sooner as I want to finish it today/tomorrow. Thank you for reading and your comments, I absolutely love reading them!

Rick had called a meeting, and everyone in Alexandria had gathered, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern. The church, once a place of peace and reflection, now felt like the heart of their troubled community. Charlie glanced at Andy, who stood silently beside her. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and the faint lingering traces of candle wax. The evening light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the floor. Rick stood at the front, his presence commanding attention.

"We have food. But they're not giving it away," said Rick. "Those Saviors, almost killed Sasha, Daryl, and Abraham. Now, sooner or later they would've found us, just like those Wolves did." he said, looking around at people's faces. "Just like Jesus did. They would have killed someone or some of us. And own us. Then, low on food, we would loose. This is the only way. But this needs to be a group decision." he added after his speech. "If anyone objects, raise your hand."

"Isn't it already made?" Cass asked, fixing glasses on his nose.

"You sure we can beat them?"

"I have the same question."

"After everything we've been through...yes. I'm sure," Rick nodded.

What we Rick was talking about? - was Charlie's first thought. Because Alexandria's residents were still green when it came to fighting, guns, weapons, and walkers. They had survived, yes, but they had done so mostly behind the safety of their walls, relying on the seasoned fighters like Rick and his group. The Survivors group was experienced. They had been hardened by countless battles, losses, and near-death experiences.

"Then that's what we tell them." Morgan interrupted Charlie's thoughts.

"They don't compromise." Rick shook his head.

"It's not a compromise," Morgan disagreed. "It's a choice. It's a way out for them and for us."

"We try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage, our safety." answered Rick with annoyance in his voice. "We have to come for them, before they come for us. They always come back."

"They comeback when they're dead, too."

"We'll stop them. We have before."

"I'm not talking about the walkers." Morgan's words hanged in the air.

She had seen her fair share of death, had lost people she cared about, and each loss left a scar. These scars weren't just physical but etched deeply into her psyche. The faces of the dead often visited her in quiet moments, their memories a constant reminder of what she had lost. Charlie knew better than anyone what Morgan's words meant.

There was a palpable tension between the two men, a silent battle of wills. Morgan's stance was calm, yet resolute, his eyes reflecting a deep-seated belief in his pacifist philosophy. Rick, on the other hand, was a warrior, a leader who believed in fighting to protect what they had built.

"Morgan wants to talk to them first. I think that would be a mistake, but it's not up to me. I'll talk to the people still at home." Rick said. "I'll discuss it with people on guard now, too, but who else wants to approach the Saviors, talk to them first?"

"What happened here, we won't let happen again." said determined Aaron. "I won't."

"Well, looks like it's settled." Charlie said, catching Rick's eyes. Just by this short interaction, he knew that Charlie wasn't on his side. Not by her own will, at last. "We kill them all."

As the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, a calm settled over the walls of Alexandria. The air grew cooler, carrying with it a sense of relief after another day of tension. The day had been long. But now, in this quiet moment, Charlie and Daryl found solace in each other's presence. He leaned back against the bed, while Charlie nestled herself closer, feeling the warmth of his presence. They didn't need to speak at first; the silence between them was comfortable, a shared understanding that words weren't always necessary.

"I feel as if today lasted ten years."

Daryl chuckled.

"I'm glad you're here, Daryl. With me."

He turned to look at her, his blue eyes meeting her gaze. "Always gonna be here, Charlie. Ain't going nowhere."

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Good. Because I don't think I could do this alone...Not anymore."

They lapsed into silence again, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Charlie leaned her head against Daryl's shoulder, closing her eyes briefly. "Do you ever think about what it would be like if it all was suddenly gone?" she murmured.

"No."

"Why?" Charlie asked.

"We have bigger troubles now," he answered.

"Hmm."

Charlie's mind raced with possibilities, each one darker than the last. She felt a tightening in her chest, the weight of fear pressing down on her. She nestled closer, resting her head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, a calming rhythm that began to ease her anxiety.

"You've been quiet," he remarked. "What's on your mind?"

"What if everything gets worse?"

"It always might get worse."

"But now it feels as if we're asking for it."

"Don't worry," he said, closing his eyes. "I'll watch your back."

"You're good at it."

Daryl chuckled, sensing the double meaning in her words.

He thought about the rare moments of laughter they shared, the bond that had grown between them. In a world filled with so much darkness, Charlie was a beacon of light, and he was determined to protect her at all costs. He tightened his hold on her, his mind settling into a quiet contentment.

With fingers tangled in her hair, and a thought of her, he fell asleep.

Birds chirped in the distance, and the fresh scent of pine filled the air. Charlie stirred, blinking awake. She sat up, stretching the sleep from her limbs and glancing over at Daryl, who was still asleep beside her. Carefully, she stood and made her way down to the kitchen. The wooden stairs creaked softly under her feet as she descended, the smell of cooking drawing her toward the kitchen. As she stepped into the warm, sunlit kitchen, she found Carol busy at the stove, her hands deftly moving as she prepared breakfast.

"Hey," Charlie smiled. The woman was deep in her own thoughts, so her sudden voice made her jump.

"Hello, Sweet Thing," she forced smile on her lips. "Hungry?"

"No. I don't think I'll swallow anything," Charlie said and walked closer. "Carol."

"Hmm?"

"Could you help with my hair?"

They moved to the living room, where the sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow on the worn furniture. Carol settled on the couch and patted the space in front of her. Charlie sat down on the floor, her back to Carol, and handed her a hairbrush. As the older woman began to brush Charlie's hair, the repetitive motion was soothing her nerves. Charlie closed her eyes, letting herself relax under the gentle touch.

"You used to do that a lot in the past," Charlie smiled, feeling Carol's fingers working fast.

"Sophia never had hair like that," she said. "Always keeping it short."

"I remember," Charlie nodded lightly, remembering the little girl. In her mind, Sophia was still a little girl, but she would be a teenager now, probably around fourteen or fifteen - like Carl. She pictured her with the same kind, intelligent eyes. Her hair, likely a dark blonde, would fall in waves, maybe even with a few braids like the one Carol had just done for her. "I miss the quarry."

"Really?" Carol raised her eyebrows.

"Things seemed simpler then. I wish I could just go back and tell myself what I know now."

"What do you mean?"

"Rick and Michonne," Charlie said out of nowhere. "Do you know when it started?"

"Maybe when we were apart?"

"Yeah...Maybe," she sighed. "What I mean is that things were simpler at the beginning. All we had to worry about were the Walkers. But we were together," she sighed. "Now we have to worry about those people, Hilltop, Saviors...And I don't even remember when I saw all of you. Together."

"We're together," Carol argued.

"We live next to each other," Charlie corrected. "But we're not together anymore."

Carol stood still, the words sinking in. Looking back in time, she saw the small group of people working together, the shared meals, and the nights spent around the fire.

"Oh, Sweet Thing."

She thought back to the early days, when their group had been smaller, more intimate. They had leaned on each other for everything, their bond forged in the fires of constant danger and loss. But as time had passed, as they had settled into a routine, something had shifted.

"Can I ask you a question?" Charlie asked after a rather long moment of silence.

"Sure."

"Why are you calling me Sweet Thing?"

"Well...Because from the very beginning you were so sweet to me," Carol explained. "You were taking care of Sophia. And then of me..."

Charlie froze in her spot. Her heart sank in her chest, knowing so well that being sweet was never her intention. At the beginning, since four men were pointing their guns at her, everything was a strategy. She was helping them, smiling at everyone, but in her head she was judging every single person, Carol included. "I've never been sweet," she answered. "I was trying to survive. And by being an awful person to you...All of you would have made me leave."

"Charlie..."

"No, really," she shook her head. "I've always been a bad person. I...Sometimes I think that me losing my family, or that everyone I care about dies, or my mental condition is just karma."

Carol's heart ached at the raw pain in Charlie's voice. She looked at her friend, seeing not the flaws Charlie saw in herself, but the strength and resilience that had kept her going through unimaginable hardship. She stepped closer, her expression softening.

"I think I never told you this...I love you, Sweet Thing." Carol leaned in and wrapped her hands around the younger woman. "You're not a bad person, Charlie. You're one of the strongest, most caring people I know. We all have our demons, but that doesn't make us bad."

Charlie felt the weight of Carol's words settle into her heart, a warmth spreading through her chest. "I don't feel strong," she admitted, her voice trembling. "Most days, I feel like I'm barely holding on."

"It's okay to feel that way," Carol's voice broke. "Just remember you're not alone."

In Carol's embrace, Charlie could almost imagine that she was a child again, seeking comfort and reassurance from her mother. The warmth and security she felt were unlike anything she had experienced in a long time. Tears began to well up in her eyes, but they were tears of release, of letting go of the burden she had carried for so long.

The air was crisp, filled with the promise of a new day, yet the tension among the group was palpable. Today was the day they would confront the Saviors. The convoy of vehicles rumbled down the dirt road, dust kicking up in their wake. The forest next to the road was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird. She walked over to where Andy stood, her heart heavy with the weight of what was to come.

"You don't have to do this," Charlie said.

She understood the importance of showing unity and giving everyone a chance. Andy had shown promise during training, but he lacked the experience and composure that seasoned members of the group possessed. This mission required precision, focus, and a deep understanding of the stakes. Charlie worried that Andy's inexperience could jeopardize everything.

And what's more important that he would end up dead.

"I know," Andy nodded. "But I want to prove my worth."

"Andy, you better find a different way of proving whatever you need to prove and leave this thing to experienced people."

"I have to do this," he argued. "Even Carl is better than me. A teenager with one eye," Andy said nervously, but calmed himself as he met Charlie's warning glance. "Look, I have to be here. Even the priest is here."

"Which isn't a good omen, too." Charlie mumbled under her breath, stabbing Gabe in the face...just in her mind, of course.

Gabe caught her whispered words. He turned to her, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I've been called worse omens, Charlie," he said, his voice light but carrying an undercurrent of steel. "But last I checked, divine intervention wasn't something to scoff at in times like these."

"There's no turning back now." she rolled her eyes at his witty comment.

"I could walk. Maybe run a little, maybe a lot. I'm not going anywhere. Your people taught me for a reason."

"Yeah, for a reason unknown to me," Charlie scoffed and passed him, hearing Andy's fast steps behind.

"I don't get it," he said. "Why do you hate him so much."

Charlie's mind whirred at the question. She hadn't really thought deeply about her animosity toward Gabe. It had always been there, a simmering undercurrent of irritation and mistrust. She searched her feelings, trying to pinpoint the root of her resentment. Was it his unwavering faith that seemed naïve in such a brutal world? Or perhaps it was his calm demeanor, which she found frustrating in the face of constant danger?

Maybe it's because he represents something she felt she had lost. Hope. Faith. Things buried under layers of survival instincts. But none of that was something she was ready to unpack, especially not now. "I just do," she shrugged. "Now, stop thinking about him, and focus."

"I am focused."

"I'm serious, Andy," she said, realizing how his small smile was annoying her, as if it was some kind of game for him. In the face of danger, Charlie realized how close she got to the young man and how sue cared about him.

"I know," he nodded his head. "We got this."

Charlie caught sight of Maggie behind him, her strong yet weary figure standing out among the others. The sight of her brought a rush of conflicting emotions. She had insisted on coming, despite the dangers. She was resolute, driven by the same need for justice and retribution that fueled them all. But seeing her there, so close to the impending conflict, made Charlie's protective instincts flare.

She found herself beside Glenn in no time, his face etched with worry but his resolve unbroken. She couldn't hold back her concern any longer.

"You asked me to protect her, Glenn," Charlie said, her voice barely above a whisper. "And now you risk her life?"

Glenn turned to her, his eyes reflecting the depth of his inner turmoil. "It's not up to me, Charlie," he replied, a note of sadness in his voice. "You know her. Once Maggie sets her mind to something, there's no stopping her."

Charlie clenched her jaw, struggling to accept the truth in Glenn's words. Maggie was strong, resilient, and fiercely independent. She had every right to fight alongside them, but that didn't make it any easier to watch her step into danger. "I get it, Glenn. But sometimes you need to step up and be a man."

His eyes hardened, and he took a step closer to her, lowering his voice so the others wouldn't hear. "Do you think I don't care? Do you think I don't worry about her every second? This isn't about being a man or not. This is about respecting her."

"So, what?" Charlie glared at him. "You just let her walk into danger because you're too afraid to stand up to her?"

"She's not a child; she's a survivor, just like the rest of us," he answered. "I know you're scared," Glenn's voice softened. "Trust me, we all are."

"But what if anything happens to her..."

"Nothing will," Glenn interrupted, a fierce determination in his eyes. "Because we're going to do everything in our power to protect each other. All of us."

Charlie nodded, feeling the last of her frustration melt away, but not entirely. She knew Glenn was right. They needed to be united, now more than ever.

Their attention was suddenly captured by Rick, who had stepped forward, his face set with grim determination. He raised a hand, signaling for everyone to gather around. The murmur of voices ceased as the group fell silent, eyes fixed on their leader.

"We're gonna take a look around, try to get a feel for how many people are in there." said Rick. "We like how it looks, we go in. A couple hours before dawn. The guards outside'll be tired. Everyone inside'll be sleeping," he explained a one way. "We don't like what we see, we head back, make a new plan," he said. "They don't know who we are. We'll keep Jesus in the shadows. This is how we eat."

As the group began to disperse to their positions, Charlie approached Rick, her mind racing with concerns. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, looking at the man who was immersed in his thoughts.

"I don't want Maggie here," Charlie said sternly, even though Rick wasn't looking at her.

"She's guarding the perimeter," he answered, still not giving her a glance.

"Are you kidding me?" she scoffed. "She's pregnant."

"It's her choice."

She couldn't believe Rick was so dismissive of her concerns. How could he put Maggie in such a dangerous position? It felt reckless and irresponsible.

First Glenn and then Rick.

Men - Charlie rolled her eyes.

"She's with a child, it's no longer her choice."

Rick finally turned to face Charlie, his eyes meeting hers directly. There was a flicker of something in his gaze - maybe understatement or maybe she annoyed him."I want to stay with her," Charlie insisted, her voice steady even as Rick scrutinized her. "And Andy will be with us."

Rick's face tightened with resolve. "Well, this whole thing's a race to the armory," he said. "We need as many people inside as we can get."

"You have just enough people," Charlie shrugged, pointing her head in the direction of the group. "I made a promise to keep an eye on her."

"Did Carol and Andy make that promise too? I had a very similar talk with her earlier." Rick tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Charlie's heart sank. If Carol was voicing concerns, it meant she wasn't alone in her worries. "Very well. Even Carol is concerned, so that should tell you a lot."

A heavy silence settled between them, the weight of their unspoken words hanging in the air. Rick's expression softened slightly, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. "You don't talk to me, Charlie," he said quietly. "It's been weeks since we've really talked. You said you were sorry for doubting me, and here we are," he sighed, dropping his arms to his sides. "What happened to you? You used to be my biggest ally."

Her thoughts raced. She remembered the early days of their journey, how she had always stood by Rick, trusted his decisions, even when they were difficult. But things had changed. The constant danger, the endless battles, it had all taken a toll.

"This thing? It's not the same as before," she said after a while, her voice tinged with sadness and frustration. "I don't see... I can't find a point in this," she shrugged, struggling to put her feelings into words. "And I don't want to ever make a choice who to save, a baby or its mother."

Her last words hit Rick hard. She could see the pain in his eyes, the conflict. It was the truth, and he knew it. The weight of their decisions, the moral dilemmas they faced every day—it was tearing them apart. Rick took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"I'm staying with Maggie," Charlie said firmly.

Rick looked at her for a long moment, the silence between them thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, he nodded. "Okay," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But Andy goes with us."

The night had settled around them, casting the forest in deep shadows. Charlie, Carol, and Maggie crouched near the Savior's base, their breaths quiet and steady. The cool night air wrapped around them, the sounds of the forest a backdrop to their tense vigil.

Charlie's thoughts drifted to Andy. She had been annoyed by his presence, questioning his readiness and his place in their mission. She agreed on him going here, because she thought he'll be near her. The only reassurance was the thought that Daryl promised to keep an eye on him. He had a way of taking care of people, of bringing out their strengths. If anyone could guide Andy through this, it was him. She hoped that Andy would rise to the occasion, proving her doubts wrong.

Charlie glanced at Carol, whose usual calm demeanor seemed strained. Her eyes were darting around more than usual, and her breathing was just a bit too quick. Charlie's instincts flared; something was wrong.

Her eyes met Charlie's again, and she offered a reassuring nod, even though her heart was still pounding in her chest. Their eyes locked in a silent exchange of concern and determination.

Then, the sharp, piercing sound of an alarm shattered the silence.

Charlie's heart sank, a wave of dread washing over her. Her mind immediately jumped to Daryl, Andy, and Glenn. Were they safe? Had something gone wrong?

She felt a surge of fear and panic, her thoughts racing. The alarm meant the Saviors were alerted, and everything was about to get much more dangerous. She couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone, especially not the people she cared about most.

"They're in trouble," Carol said urgently as she started moving, giving an order to Charlie. "Stay here with Maggie."

"What?" Charlie began to follow Carol, her heart pounding with worry. She heard another pair of footsteps behind her.

"I'm going with you," both Maggie and Charlie said in unison.

"I said stay here!" Carol snapped, frustration evident in her voice.

"No!" Charlie retorted, her determination unwavering.

"Damn it!" Carol cursed under her breath.

"I have to!" Charlie argued, reaching out to pull Carol's arm.

"No, you don't!" Carol insisted. "Both of you, stay here."

"Yes, I do," Maggie interjected, pushing Charlie to the side with unexpected strength.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Carol asked, the question burning in everyone's mind.

Maggie furrowed her eyebrows, defiant. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to be someone else!" Carol's voice was harsh, the weight of their situation pressing down on her.

Before anyone could respond, the alarm blared again, louder and more urgent. The noise was a constant reminder of the danger closing in on them.

"They need our help," Maggie said, her voice resolute.

A low growling noise broke through the alarm. Charlie turned swiftly, her knife already in her hand, and plunged it into the head of a walker that had crept up on them. She wiped the blood off her blade, her heart racing.

"You're staying here," Carol commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. "With Charlie."

As Carol looked at Maggie, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Instinctively, she took out her gun. Before she could react, Charlie had already fired, hitting a man but only managing to wound his arm.

"Maggie, don't," Charlie warned, her voice tense, when she saw her walking to the wounded man.

"Let's go!" Carol urged, ready to move.

"Not unless it's done," Maggie said through gritted teeth, her gun trained on the wounded man.

Suddenly, Charlie felt a cold metal barrel press against the back of her head. A click echoed in the air, sending a shiver down her spine. "Stop!" a woman's voice commanded. "Or they are both dead!"

Carol, Charlie, and Maggie froze, their breaths hitching in unison. The woman, her eyes cold and calculating, held her gun firmly against hers and Carol's heads. Charlie's eyes darted to the side, where she saw two other women, each armed and ready to shoot.

"Guns, knives on the ground, right now," the woman with ginger hair ordered, her voice brooking no defiance.

Carol glanced at Charlie, a silent exchange passing between them. Reluctantly, they began to lower their weapons, placing them on the ground slowly. "Do it," Carol whispered, her voice strained but calm. "We need to stay alive."

Charlie nodded, her heart pounding as she followed Carol's lead. Maggie hesitated, her eyes blazing with defiance, but she too began to lower her gun.

"Good," the woman said, a twisted smile on her face. "Now, stand back."

Charlie's mind raced, looking for a way out of this. The alarm continued to wail, its relentless noise making it hard to think clearly. She glanced at Carol, who gave her a barely perceptible nod. They needed a plan, and fast.

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [14] BIGGER WORLD

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: The group decides to go with Jesus and they quickly regret it. Hilltop turns out not to be what it was supposed to. Rick makes a big decision.

Warnings: language, walkers, mention of cheating, violence, pregnancy talk (idk if this is a warning)

Words: 6.604

A/N: Hello! Sorry that there was no chapter for so long, but I had lots of exams during this past month. I hope you enjoy this one!

It was chaos as everyone was packing in haste, preparing for the journey to Hilltop. She tried to imagine what the place was like. Was it the same as Alexandria? Did they have high walls and well-organized homes? Was their leader as capable as Deanna had been? She thought about the people living there. Were they as tight-knit and resilient as her own group, or did they have their own set of challenges and conflicts?

Then she heard steps approaching and found Carl next to her, his bandaged eye hidden beneath a clean patch. Judith was playing with his hair, her innocent laughter a sharp contrast to the frenzy around them. "Are you alright to stay?"

"We'll be fine, Charlie. Don't worry."

"How can I not? You two are my sweet little babies," she said and touched his cheek with affection. "I know you can take care of things. I just...thought you might want to go."

"No. I'm not in a mood to meet new people looking like a pirate," he said. "Besides...Before you start...I kind of need a break from dad and Michonne."

"Did something happen?" Charlie furrowed her eyebrows.

Carl looked around. "This morning before you all came...Jesus walked in on them."

Charlie stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. She was on the ground knocked out by a stranger and in the same time, Rick and Michonne were...well. The idea of them together was unexpected, but somehow it made perfect sense. "You're kidding!" she exclaimed.

"I wish." Carl said. "I'm happy for them, really. But it's... a lot to process."

Charlie's laughter softened to a chuckle as she stepped closer to him. "I can imagine."

"And now, with everything going on, I just need a break from all of it."

"Alright. Stay safe then," Charlie patted his back.

"You too," he replied with a reassuring smile.

Charlie walked briskly through Alexandria, her mind buzzing with the news she was eager to share. She couldn't help but wonder when it had started, what had changed between Michonne and Rick. They had always been close, but this was different. Had it been there all along, and she just hadn't noticed? Or had it been a sudden revelation for them both, an understanding that in this world of chaos, they had found something worth holding on to?

A big smile spread across her face as she spotted Daryl working on the van, making sure it works completely. He glanced up as she approached, his brow furrowing in confusion at the sight of her excitement."You took too many happy pills?"

"No."

"Then what's with that face?"

"You'll never believe what I've found out."

Daryl's confusion deepened, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "What?"

"Rick and Michonne slept together!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight.

"Well, 'bout damn time," he said almost disappointed, as if he knew that all along.

Charlie stared at him, her mouth open in disbelief. "What? You knew?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Ain't hard to see they had somethin' goin' on."

"How do you always know these things?"

"Ain't much gets past me, woman." Daryl leaned against the van, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," she rolled her eyes, still grinning. "But it's just... it's so perfect, you know?"

"Hmm."

"Hmm," she mimicked him. "That's all you have to tell me?"

"What else should I say?" he straightened.

Charlie tilted her head, her smile fading slightly. "I don't know... I was expecting something more than 'hmm,' maybe? I thought you'd be excited."

"I wouldn't want people to talk about us."

"You're so...annoying," she rolled her eyes. "By being right."

"You admit I'm right?" Daryl raised his eyebrows at her. "He must have hit you hard."

"Shut up."

Charlie sat in the van's backseat. The vehicle rumbled along the uneven road, each bump and jolt sending tremors through her body. Dust billowed up from the road, swirling in the air before settling on the windows. The silence inside the van was heavy, punctuated only by the mechanical hum of the engine.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" Abraham broke the silence. Charlie turned her head and looked at the gingerbread who was leaning to Glenn.

"Sure," he replied, curious about his sudden inquiry.

"When you were, uh, pouring the Bisquick... were you trying to make pancakes?"

Charlie snorted, taken aback by the unexpected question and a silly face her friend was making. "Yes? I mean, it's something we talked about, yes."

"For real?"

"We're trying to build something," Glenn continued. "Me and her. All of us."

She glanced over at Glenn, who was focused on Abraham. She couldn't stop thinking about the decision Glenn and Maggie had made to have a baby. In this world, where danger lurked around every corner, it seemed like a risky choice. Glenn caught her eye, sensing her distraction. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, just thinking." she returned a smile. "Aren't you scared? Bringing a child into this world... it's a lot."

"We can't let the fear control us," Glenn said.

She admired their courage, their willingness to hope in such a bleak world. It made her wonder about her own choices, her own fears. Abraham nodded, understanding the depth behind his words. "For the record, I see rain coming, I'm wearing galoshes. I double up."

Charlie snorted.

"Cool. Yeah..." Glenn trailed off.

With a wide smile Charlie was looking at Abraham and them turned to her. His eyes, usually sharp and intense, softened a bit as he looked at her. "You thinking about making pancakes too?" he asked, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Charlie couldn't help but snort at his phrasing. "No, Abraham, no pancakes for me."

"Good."

The van jolted to a sudden stop. The tires skidded on the gravel, sending up a spray of dirt and pebbles. The engine sputtered and then went silent, leaving a ringing in her ears from the abrupt halt. Charlie's heart pounded in her chest as she looked around. Glenn peered through the windshield, his face tense.

"What the hell?" Abraham muttered, his hand placed on her in a protective gesture, preventing her from falling flat on the face.

"It looks like a crash. It just happened." Rick answered from the front of the van.

"It's one of ours," Jesus said with voice dropping with concern.

"If it's a trick...It won't end well for you," Rick pointed at him.

The car was on its side, dripping with blood. People that were in the car crash turned already into Walkers. They found themselves on a dirt road flanked by dense woods, the air tense with anticipation.

As they gathered near the van, Jesus stepped forward, his face etched with worry. "My people are in trouble. They don't..." He hesitated, clearly distressed. "We don't have a lot of fighters. I know how it looks, but I'll play it out. Can I borrow a gun?"

Daryl, standing beside the van, shook his head firmly. "No. We got tracks right here," he said, pointing to a set of footprints leading to a house.

The group stood gathered in front of the imposing building, tension palpable in the air as they prepared for what lay ahead. Jesus looked desperate, his eyes pleading. "They've got to be in there," he insisted, his gaze shifting toward the building in a distance.

"We moving in or what?"

"How do we know this ain't firecrackers in the trash can?"

"You don't."

"We'll get your people," Rick said, calming the man. "You're staying here with one of us," Rick announced, his gaze settling on Charlie with a mix of trust and expectation. "Charlie?" Rick's question was a formality more than anything, seeking confirmation from her.

"Yeah," she replied confidently, her tone unwavering as if it were the most natural decision.

Daryl stepped closer, his concern evident in his furrowed brow and cautious demeanor. "Are you sure about this?" His voice was low, filled with concern. He knew Charlie had been through a lot, and the idea of her confronting danger, especially in her current mental state, troubled him deeply.

Charlie rolled her eyes, a gesture that mixed irritation and determination. "Go. Just be careful," she retorted, dismissing Daryl's concern with a hint of impatience.

Rick handed her his gun, a silent acknowledgment of her capability despite the axe being her only weapon. "You hear me whistle, shoot him," Rick instructed firmly, trusting her with the responsibility.

"Okey dokey," Charlie replied with a nod, accepting the gravity of the task ahead as she gripped the gun tightly, her expression resolute and focused.

She watched as Rick and the others prepared to leave. It wasn't something new to her, staying behind and looking after someone. As first it was Carl, then it was Judith, and now Jesus, who might as well kill her just now with some hidden skills.

"I promise this isn't a trap."

"It better not be," Charlie said and walked over to sit on the ground, both axe and a gun in her hand.

"Sorry for what I did," he said. "I know I've already said it but...I just wanted to go home."

Charlie remained quiet, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, trying to listen if there is some danger coming. At the same time, she was trying to ignore his soft voice and genuine intentions.

Jesus, undeterred by her silence, continued talking. "I know you probably don't trust me yet. That's fair. Trust is hard to come by these days," he said, his voice steady. "But I want you to know, I'm here to help. Hilltop is a good place, and we could really use allies like you."

She finally glanced at him, her expression unreadable. She wasn't one for small talk, especially not with someone she barely knew...not anymore at least. But there was something in Jesus's eyes, a genuine sincerity that was hard to dismiss.

"Back in the old world, I met all kinds of people due to my work. Some good, some bad. But I've learned that sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

"But that was then."

"Did you always know how to fight?" Jesus asked, trying to steer the conversation to something more neutral.

"I knew how to use a gun," she said. "And I still do."

Jesus chuckled. "I bet."

"What do you want from us?"

"I want to show you that the world is still big," he said. "It doesn't end with Alexandria, or even Hilltop..." he sighed. "It's worth to look for people that want to build something bigger. Like me. Like us."

"I would really want to believe you...Jesus," she looked him in the eyes.

"You've been really broken by this world, haven't you?"

"We've all been through a lot," she answered. "Haven't you?"

"I've been here and there," he answered. "Admits our rocky beginning I feel we might become great friends, Charlie."

"Hold your horses, cowboy," she scoffed. "I pick my own friends."

"Fair enough. But you can't blame a guy for trying, can you?" he chuckled.

"Have you always been so...friendly?"

"You meet a lot of different people on the road," he shrugged. "Some friendly, some not so much. You learn to adapt."

Charlie nodded thoughtfully. She knew all too well the necessity of adaptation in this world. "Yeah, I get that. Everyone's got a story, I suppose."

"True," Jesus agreed. "And every story has its own worth. What about yours? What's your story, Charlie?"

She hesitated, her eyes flickering with memories she'd rather not revisit. "It's a long one," she said finally. "And not all of it's pretty."

"I'm sure it's not," Jesus said gently. "But sometimes, talking about it helps. We've all got scars."

Charlie sighed, feeling a reluctant respect for the man beside her. He had a way of cutting through the bullshit, and she could appreciate that. "Maybe someday,"

"Whenever you're ready," Jesus replied, his tone sincere.

"It would be a shame to kill you now."

"You won't have to."

"Why so sure?"

Right after, she turned her head and saw her friends walking out of the house. As always Rick was leading the group, some new faces walking slowly behind him. Charlie immediately stood up from the ground, her heart lifting even higher.

Her eyes fell on Jesus, who pointed with his eyes to take off the cuffs.

The midday sun hung high in the sky as Rick's group trudged along the dusty road towards Hilltop Colony. Charlie walked alongside Glenn, her gaze scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. They had been on edge ever since the accident on the road, still careful with the strangers that were with them. Glenn glanced at Charlie, noticing the furrow in her brow. "You seem lost in thought today," he remarked, adjusting the strap of his backpack.

"It all just feels strange," she confessed.

"Anything particular or just the dead walking?" Glenn smiled.

"So funny," she rolled her eyes. "It just seems like yesterday you rescued me in Atlanta."

He nodded knowingly. "Yeah, it's been quite a journey since Atlanta."

"We were all just a bunch of strangers with our own motives to be in the group," she said.

"We were all just trying to survive back then," he said. "It feels like a lifetime ago."

"And it wasn't," Charlie shook her head. "It was two years ago. In normal conditions, two years would be like a second. You wouldn't even be that close with people. And I'm sure you wouldn't get married and start a family with Maggie so soon."

"You know, you're probably right," he said with a small chuckle. "In normal times, Maggie and I might've taken things a bit slower...Well, if we even met."

"See?" she pointed. "You would call 911 if you would have ever seen a woman jumping on the roof."

"But then again, these aren't exactly normal times, are they?" Glenn changed the subject. "And...that may sound terrible, but I'm grateful for everything. Because they've brought us here. To this moment."

They walked a few more steps before Charlie spoke again, her voice quieter this time. "Do you ever wonder what life would've been like if none of this had happened?" she asked, her gaze fixed on the ground as they walked.

Glenn considered her question carefully, memories of his life before the outbreak flashing through his mind. "Sometimes," he admitted softly. "But I wouldn't change a thing."

Charlie smiled and nodded, wrapping her arm around the young man. They continued walking, each lost in their own thoughts. The landscape around them gradually changed as they approached Hilltop.

"Stop right there!" a voice called out sharply from above, causing the group to halt in their tracks.

"You gonna make us?" Daryl asked.

"Jesus, what the hell is this?" Rick asked concerned.

"Open the gates, Kal. Freddie's hurt." Jesus said to the man on the guard tower and then turned to the group. "Sorry about these guys. They get antsy standing up there all day doing nothing."

"They give up the weapons, then we'll open the gates," Kal declared, his stance unwavering.

Daryl stepped forward, his bow slung over his shoulder. "Why don't you come down here and get 'em?" he challenged, his voice rough with defiance.

"Gentlemen!" calm voice of Dr.Carson echoed through the air. "Look, we vouch for there people, all right? They saved us out there. Lower the spears."

"I'm not taking any chances." Grimes shook his head.

Charlie was looking at the gates, and she was quickly to observe that they were made just the same way as the ones in Alexandria. She was also curious of what was behind them. Was it any similar to the what was in Alexandria, too?

"I like you people," Jesus said to Rick, but then he looked over his shoulder. "I trust you. Trust us."

The heavy gates creaked open slowly, revealing a bustling community within the walls.

The bustling community unfolded before her, revealing a scene that contrasted sharply with the desolate landscapes they had seen. She glanced around, taking in the sights and sounds of this new community. People moved about with purpose, some tending to crops in makeshift gardens, others repairing structures or things.

Beside her, Glenn walked with a steady stride, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the unfamiliar surroundings.

They stopped in front of a huge house.

"That's called Barrington House. The family that owned it gave it to the state in the '30s. The state turned it into a living history museum. The place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it," Jesus said. "I think people came here because they figured it's keep running after the modern world broke down."

"It's perfect for security," Charlie observed.

"Exactly," Jesus nodded with a smile. "Come on. I'll show you inside."

The air was cool and musty, carrying faint hints of wood polish and hearth smoke. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting warm pools of light on the polished wooden floors and tapestries that adorned the walls. It was so different from buildings they've seen on the road and villas in Alexandria.

The Barrington House was a sprawling structure, its architecture a blend of rustic charm and practicality. As Rick's group was led through the corridors by a resident guide, Charlie took in the details—the intricate carvings on the banisters, the aged but well-maintained furniture that spoke of generations past.

"Good gracious Ignatius."

Charlie glanced around one again, feeling her heart beating in her chest. It was all so surreal. "We plan to build," the man with long hair said.

Then the wooden doors opened suddenly and a man dressed in a suit appeared in them. "Jesus. You're back," loud voice echoed through the room. "With guests."

"Everyone, this is Gregory," Jesus introduced the man.

Charlie's gaze fixated on him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed his demeanor and the way he carried himself. His eyes lingered longest on Rick, Maggie, and Glenn, assessing them with a wary scrutiny that did not go unnoticed by Charlie. There was a palpable sense of calculation in his demeanor.

"I'm the boss." Gregory said with a smile as if his name wasn't enough.

"I'm Rick. We have a community..."

"Why don't you go get cleaned up, hmm?" the boss interrupted him.

"We're fine," Grimes clenched his teeth.

"Jesus will show you where you can get washed up, then come back down here when you're ready," Gregory once again ignored Rick as if he was muted.

Charlie's jaw clenched involuntarily. She felt a surge of frustration rise within her. Rick maintained his calm demeanor, his voice steady as he navigated the tense exchange. But Charlie could sense the strain beneath his facade, the weight of leadership resting heavily on his shoulders as he negotiated with a man whose trust seemed difficult to earn.

"Follow me," sighed Jesus.

As they were climbing the stairs, she looked back at Gregory, who waved at her. "Asshole."

"Shhh," Rick shushed her and looked around. "Maggie. You clean up first and talk to him."

"Why?"

"It's better for us if Charlie, stay away from him."

"Come on," Charlie rolled her eyes. "I said what we're all thinking."

"I want Maggie to make the deal with him."

Charlie looked at Rick and then Maggie. "In that case, I won't fight. Not talking to him would be my pleasure."

After the opportunity to clean up, Charlie found herself standing outside the Barrington House, gazing at the tranquil life unfolding in Hilltop. She leaned against the railing of the porch. She watched the people, how they gradually perform their tasks.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Abraham approaching, his broad frame unmistakable. He stopped a few feet away, his gaze sweeping over the scene before them. "Mind if I join you?" Abraham asked, his voice gruff yet carrying a note of camaraderie.

"As if you care," she snorted and looked at him.

Abraham took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Remember when yesterday you asked me if there was anyone else? If I had feelings for someone else?" he said, his voice low and steady.

"Mmm."

"I lied." he said.

"I know."

"You know?"

"If a man wonders what he feels about one woman, there's always another one involved," Charlie explained. "So? Who is she?"

"Sasha."

"Sasha?" she repeated.

Abraham nodded, his gaze finally meeting hers. "Yeah. There's something about her... she's strong, like Rosita, but different. She gets me in a way I can't explain. And it's tearing me up inside because I don't know what to do."

She studied Abraham's face, seeing the conflict and turmoil etched in his features. She could sense the weight of his words, the struggle he was facing in a world where choices were often a matter of survival rather than personal happiness."You care about them both," Charlie said softly, her voice filled with understanding. "Do you still love Rosita?"

"I do respect her," he said.

"Respect?" Charlie raised her eyebrows.

"I have a lot of affection towards her. I care about her because I know she's a great girl," he explained. "But I think that it wasn't love that connected the two of us. Maybe it was just the need to feel someone alive."

She understood all too well the desperation to feel connected, to find solace in another person amidst the chaos and death that surrounded them. Hearing Abraham speak of his affection for Rosita, but also his doubts about their connection, made Charlie worry about the impact this would have on her. Rosita deserved honesty, deserved to know where she stood. However there was a depth of emotion in her, a vulnerability that Rosita rarely let anyone see. She was strong, but she was also human.

"You have to be honest with her," she said. "With both of them."

"But I still don't know," he sighed. "How did you know that Dixon is your person?"

Charlie blinked, caught off guard by Abraham's question. She hadn't realized that her feelings for Daryl were so apparent to others. Talking about her feelings for him wasn't something she was accustomed to, especially not with someone like Abraham, who usually kept his conversations on the practical side of survival.

"It wasn't something I figured out all at once," she began slowly, her eyes drifting to the horizon. "Daryl and I... we just started looking out for each other. It was small things at first. He'd save me some extra food...or something."

"But how did you know?" he pressed gently. "How did you know it was more than just needing someone alive?"

She sighed heavily, feeling that for the very first time she will say what she thought for the longest time.

"When something bad happens, he's the first person I think about. Not just because I know he'll have my back, but because I want to make sure he's okay. He's the one I want to talk to at the end of a hard day, the person whose opinion matters to me, because for some strange reason he is always right," she said. She glanced at Abraham, seeing his intense focus, his desire to understand. "The way he seems to know what I'm feeling without me having to explain it. It's more than just needing someone alive. It's needing him specifically. Because with him...I feel alive."

"Lucky son of a bitch," Abraham was looking at her with a smile on his lips and his eyes became shiny. He shook his head and looked away before turning to her again. "Have you told him?"

"Told him what?"

"What you just said to me."

"He knows," Charlie said. "I don't have to tell him."

"Are you sure?" Abraham leaned in, putting pressure on her. Making her mind swirl with doubts if Daryl knew about her affection towards him.

"Nice change of a subject," Charlie pushed him away. "But you better talk to Rosita once we're back. And Sasha."

"I guess I have to," he sighed. He glanced back towards the Barrington House and saw Maggie stepping out of Gregory's office. "Looks like something's up."

Charlie looked in the direction of a small window and saw a small gathering on the hall. She nodded her head. "You go. I think I want to sit here for a while."

"Are you sure? You feel good?"

"Yes," she smiled. "I just don't want to say something stupid. Don't worry."

Abraham nodded, and patted her back in a tough manner. With a thoughtful expression, he turned away from her and walked alone inside the Barrington House. Leaving Charlie alone once again.

She leaned against a weathered pillar, her gaze wandering through the halls that echoed with faint whispers of the past. Hilltop's rustic charm reminded her of simpler times, of days spent with her brothers. Their grandparents lived in a modest house, nestled in a quiet countryside, just like here. Time could slow down when they were there.

Life seemed so simple back then.

As the gates to Hilltop swung open, the peace of Hilltop became destroyed. Three people walked through the threshold, their silhouettes outlined against the fading daylight. Each step they took seemed deliberate, as if they were entering a sanctuary after a long journey.

"Guys!" Charlie called.

"Ethan, what happened to everybody else?" Gregory asked, once he walked out of the house.

Their clothes were dusty and torn, evidence of the trials they had faced beyond the safety of Hilltop's walls. The tension in their shoulders and the set of their jaws hinted at a journey filled with challenges and close calls. As they moved further into the courtyard, Charlie noticed the curious glances from other residents of Hilltop. There was a mixture of relief and concern in the air.

"They're dead," announced the man called, Ethan.

"And...Negan?"

"Yeah."

Ethan's voice faded into the background as Charlie's thoughts raced. At the news, Hilltop became like any other place. The illusion of paradise, idyllic and perfect spot hidden from the pain was shattered. Mention of dead people casted a long shadow above everyone.

One name especially: Negan. She looked around at the faces of people, seeing their reactions. Some were frozen in shock, their eyes wide and full of fear. Others showed raw grief, tears spilling down their cheeks as they clutched each other for support. But the most unsettling were those who wore expressions of grim recognition,

"We had a deal." Gregory said.

"He said it wasn't enough." the other newcomer said from behind. "Was the drop light?"

"No."

"They still have Craig." the woman said at the verge of tears.

"They're keeping him alive. They will return him to us, if I deliver a message." Ethan guy said.

"So, tell me."

Without warning, he lunged at Gregory, a flash of steel glinting in his hand. The knife plunged into Gregory's abdomen, eliciting a guttural scream from the man. Shock rippled through the crowd, freezing everyone in place for a split second.

Charlie's heart pounded as the scene unfolded in front of her. Her body tensed, ready to spring into action. But she didn't. It wasn't their business.

However, not everyone was the same idea.

One of Ethan's companions, a burly man with a wild look in his eyes, turned on Abraham. With a swift and brutal movement, he wrapped his thick arms around Abraham's neck, squeezing with deadly intent. The ginger struggled, his face turning red as he fought to break free, but the man's grip was relentless.

Charlie's instincts screamed at her to help, but she saw Daryl spring into action first. He surged forward, his movements fluid and purposeful. In one swift motion, Daryl brought his arm up and grabbed the attacker's wrist. With a powerful twist, he broke the man's arm, the sickening crack echoing through the courtyard.

"Anybody who tries to stop me is killing my brother!" screamed Ethan.

Charlie's breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched Rick struggle beneath Ethan, his face contorted with effort and fear. Just then, Ethan was momentarily distracted by a soft whisper of Michonne. It was all the opening Rick needed. With a sudden burst of strength, he twisted his body and grabbed Ethan's wrist, forcing the knife away from his throat.

Seconds later Rick pushed lifeless body away from him and got up, covered in Ethan's blood that bled from his throat.

"What?"

The courtyard, once a haven of safety and community, now felt like a battleground. She saw Maggie and the others rushing to Gregory's side, her hands pressing against the wound to staunch the bleeding. Gregory's face was pale, his eyes wide with pain and shock, but he was still conscious, fighting to stay awake.

The weight of what had just happened pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. Moments ago Hilltop was supposed to broaden the world for them. Instead, it felt like they had stepped into another storm, one that threatened to tear everything apart.

Her thoughts turned to Jesus, the man who had brought them here. Was it truly out of the goodness of his heart, or did he have some hidden motives? Had he known about the threats lurking over Hilltop? Charlie couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his intentions than he had let on.

Her breath quickened as the weight of everything pressed down on her. She could feel the familiar tightening in her chest, a creeping sensation that signaled the onset of a panic attack. She looked around, seeking something to anchor herself...And then she saw him.

"Abraham?" Charlie called. She hurried over to him, her footsteps hesitant yet purposeful. Abraham looked up, meeting Charlie's gaze with a mixture of exhaustion and relief. "You good?"

"I'm better than alright."

Charlie offered her hand to Abraham, a silent gesture of solidarity and reassurance in the wake of the chaos that had unfolded. Abraham looked at her hand for a moment, then met her eyes with a faint, grateful smile. Without hesitation, he clasped her hand firmly in his own, the calluses on his palm rough against her skin.

His laughter, at first unexpected and out of place, broke the solemn atmosphere that had settled over them. Charlie looked at him, momentarily puzzled by his sudden outburst. His laughter, raw and unfiltered, echoed in the courtyard, drawing curious glances from those nearby. But as she met his eyes, she saw a flicker of amusement and relief that was contagious.

"You're crazy."

At her comment Abraham started laughing even harder, tears running down his cheeks. Before she could comprehend what was happening, he swept her into a spontaneous hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around.

For a moment, Charlie's confusion gave way to a rush of exhilaration. But soon enough a loud laugh escaped her lips.

The events of the recent attack still hung heavily in the air. They had gathered to await news of Gregory's condition, their faces etched with concern and weariness. Rick paced the room, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Maggie sat beside him, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the closed door where Gregory was being treated. Daryl leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression guarded yet attentive.

They all looked at the doors that suddenly opened. "Dr.Carson was able to patch Gregory up. He's in pain, but he'll live," Jesus said as he walked into the room.

"What happens now?" Michonne asked.

"Things like that don't usually happen here, but uh, it's settled."

"We heard the name Negan," Rick said, bringing Charlie's attention towards him. She became worried of his sudden interest in the man. "A while back, Daryl and Abraham had a run-in with his men." he said. "Who is he?"

The mention of Daryl and Abraham having encountered Negan's men hit her like a sudden jolt. She glanced at both men, her gaze searching for answers that weren't immediately forthcoming. She felt a pang of annoyance and frustration that they had chosen to keep this encounter from her.

Abraham shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, his expression guarded. He exchanged a brief glance with Daryl, who seemed equally uneasy, avoiding Charlie's eyes.

"Negan's the head of a group of people he calls the Saviors." the longhaired man said. "As soon as the walls were built, the Saviors showed up. They met witn Gregory on behalf of their boss. They made a lot of demands, even more threats. And they killed one of us. Rory...he was sixteen. Right in front of us." he explained. "Gregory is a leader. Not the one I would choose, but he helped to create this place."

"He made a deal." Charlie concluded.

"Half of everything." Jesus nodded."Our supplies, our crops, our livestock, it goes to the Saviors."

"And what do you get in return?"

"They don't attack this place. They don't kill us."

"Why not just kill them?" Daryl asked.

"Those people don't know how to fight."

"Well, how many people does Negan have?" Rick asked.

"We don't know. We've seen groups as big as 20."

"Hold up. So, they showed up, they killed a kid, and you give them half of everything?" Daryl asked angrily. "These dicks just got a good story. The bogeyman, he ain't shit."

"Well, how do you know?" Charlie rolled here eyes, counting that now she would hear the story from Daryl.

"A month ago, we took his guys out PDQ. Left them in pieces and puddles."

Charlie felt a chill run down her spine as the words hung heavily in the air. She swallowed hard.

"Yeah, we'll do it." Rick nodded. "If we go get your man back, kill Negan, take out his boys, will you hook us up?" he asked. "We want food, medicine, and one of them cows."

Charlie's head snapped up at what Rick said. The thought of their group being on Negan's radar, of provoking a man known for his ruthlessness and vengefulness, filled her with a deep sense of foreboding.

"Confrontation's never been something we've had troubles with."

"Yeah," Charlie said. "Getting rid of troublesome people and playing with other people's shit, it is what we do."

As the words left her lips, she glanced up and met Jesus's eyes. Jesus had brought them to Hilltop seeking allies, hoping for a new beginning, but now they were embroiled in a conflict that threatened to consume them all.

That's what it was all about.

Gregory had reluctantly provided them with food provisions, his gratitude tempered by the recent attack and the fragile peace they now sought to restore. As she lifted a basket of supplies, her mind raced with thoughts of the uncertainties ahead. Charlie moved through the courtyard of Hilltop, her steps purposeful as she helped gather supplies for their journey back to Alexandria. She turned to find Daryl approaching, his usually stoic expression softened by a hint of hesitation. He motioned for her to set down the basket, his eyes meeting hers with a seriousness that caught her off guard.

"You don't like this."

Charlie paused, glancing up from where she had been checking the supplies in their packs.

"Do I have anything to say?"

"You would want someone to help us if we were in their situation," Daryl said.

"It's their problem, Daryl," Charlie finally answered, her tone edged with exasperation as she avoided meeting his gaze. She focused on the task at hand, organizing the supplies with meticulous care to distract herself from the tension between them.

Daryl stood beside her, his presence a steady reassurance despite the growing rift in their conversation. He watched her closely, his brow furrowed with concern as he sensed her anger building.

"Why are you angry?" Daryl asked gently, breaking the uneasy silence that hung between them.

She froze, her hands stilling over the packs as she wrestled with her emotions. "Why didn't you tell me about Negan's men?" she blurted out abruptly, her voice tinged with hurt and accusation. "You kept it from me, Daryl. Like I couldn't handle it or something."

Daryl's expression softened, his shoulders slumping slightly under the weight of her words. He hadn't meant to withhold information from her out of a lack of trust, but rather out of a misguided attempt to protect her from unnecessary worry. Now he saw clearly how his actions had backfired, eroding the trust they had built through countless trials together.

"I didn't want to worry you," Daryl confessed, his voice low and regretful. "I thought it was nothin'."

"It's not nothing," Charlie replied firmly, her eyes finally meeting his with a mixture of frustration and understanding. "We're in this together, Daryl. We face the dangers together, whether we like it or not."

He nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering as he absorbed her words. He knew Charlie was right—they were a team, bound by their shared struggles and victories.

"We don't know those people. It's their problem, not ours. Our problem was food."

"Rick knows what's at stake," Daryl continued, his tone steady and resolute.

With a sigh of frustration and a roll if her eyes, Charlie murmured you just don't get that, and walked away from the man. Daryl stood there, looking at her back - just like he always did.

The weight of their recent encounters and the looming threat of Negan pressed heavily on her mind. Charlie sat in the van, her eyes staring out of the window as the landscape of Hilltop faded into the distance. The scenery passed by in a blur, her thoughts consumed by the gravity of their situation.

Suddenly, she felt a gentle touch on her knee. She turned to see Glenn sitting beside her, a soft smile on his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper, carefully handing it to her. Curiosity piqued, Charlie unfolded it to reveal an ultrasound image of Maggie's baby.

The sight of the tiny life growing within Maggie brought tears to Charlie's eyes. She felt a lump in her throat as she looked at the image, her emotions overwhelming her. Glenn's voice broke through her reverie, his tone filled with warmth and anticipation. "Will you be the godmother?" he asked, his eyes shining with hope and a touch of vulnerability.

Charlie looked up at Glenn, her vision blurred by tears. She felt a rush of emotions—honor, love, and a fierce protective instinct. In a world where every moment was uncertain, being asked to be a part of this new life meant everything to her.

"Of course," Charlie whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She reached out and squeezed Glenn's hand, a tear escaping down her cheek. "I'd be honored."

His smile widened, relief and joy evident in his expression. He placed his hand over hers, their connection a silent promise to protect and cherish the new life they were bringing into their world.

As the van continued its journey back to Alexandria, Charlie's heart felt a little lighter. She was determined to protect that hope, to fight for a future where Maggie's child could grow up in a world less brutal than the one they had known.

And to do so, Negan had to be gone.

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [13] BETTER DAYS

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: When the things in Alexandria start going surprisingly good, the appearing of a stranger may change everything.

Warnings: language?

Words: 3.393

A/N: Hello :) Let me know if you enjoy the chapter. Only 4 more to the most traumatic events in the series, but for now, enjoy!!!

Time had passed since the events that had shaken Alexandria to its core, and life had slowly begun to find its rhythm once more. And it was a busy life to say the least.

Charlie found herself attending therapy sessions, trying to cope with the trauma of past. With each session, she felt better and better - thanks to Denise. She prescribed her some pills, what Charlie started calling happy pills, so it wouldn't seem so serious. As the therapy was slowly showing progress, she still refused to practice some task given to her by the doctor.

In the meantime, Charlie also took it upon herself to train Andy in the art of self-defense, determined to help him with the skills he needed to protect himself and others. Hours of training made him more sturdy and he gained some muscles, changing his appearance. He didn't look as sickly as he did when she met him.

The morning sun was climbing higher in the sky, casting long shadows that danced across the ground. Sweat glistened on Andy's brow, and his movements were sluggish, lacking the sharpness and speed that Charlie knew he was capable of.

"Come on, Andy!" Charlie shouted, her patience wearing thin. "You're moving too slow! You need to be quicker, more focused!"

Andy grumbled under his breath, wiping sweat from his face with the back of his hand. "I'm trying!"

"That's no excuse. If you're going to survive out here, you need to be faster. Again!"

He sighed but complied, his movements still too slow for her liking. Frustration bubbled up inside her, and she couldn't hold back any longer. "Do you even want to learn how to defend yourself?" she snapped, stepping closer to him. "Because right now, it looks like you're just going through the motions."

Andy's eyes flashed with annoyance, and he straightened up, meeting her gaze head-on. "I'm doing the best I can. Maybe if you weren't such a drill sergeant, I'd actually improve."

Charlie raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Oh, is that right? Maybe if you weren't such a slacker, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"A slacker, huh? Big talk from someone who used to skip out on chores."

"Yeah, well, I had better things to do than mop floors. Like saving your ass from walkers."

Andy chuckled, the tension between them easing. "Okay, point taken. But seriously, Charlie, I am trying. Just... maybe cut me some slack?"

Charlie sighed, her expression softening. "Alright, alright. I'll try to be less of a drill sergeant. But you've got to promise me you'll give it your all."

Andy nodded, a determined look in his eyes. "Deal. Let's go again."

Charlie stepped back, watching as Andy moved through the drills with renewed effort. His movements were still not perfect, but there was a noticeable improvement, and Charlie felt a flicker of pride.

"Better," she called out, her tone more encouraging this time. "Keep it up, and you'll be a pro in no time."

Andy shot her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Charlie. I know I give you a hard time, but I do appreciate it."

Charlie waved off his thanks, a playful glint in her eyes. "Don't get too mushy on me now. We've got work to do."

As they continued their training, the playful bickering between them became a familiar rhythm, a reminder of the bond they shared and the strength they drew from each other in this harsh, unforgiving world.

Amidst this chaos of their daily lives, Charlie found her solace in Daryl. Their connection deepened with each passing day, and their relations never were better. Every free moment they had, they spent together, what slowly turned into an unofficial relationship. Something shared just between the two of them.

However, what was keeping Charlie up at night was Carl struggled to come to terms with the loss of his eye. Even though he was claiming he was feeling fine, she knew that he was trying hard not to show his true emotions.

She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to break the silence and lift his spirits. Walking over to his bedside, she forced a smile and gently ruffled his hair. "Hey there, tough guy," she said softly.

Carl glanced up at her, his expression a mix of pain and resignation. "Hey," he mumbled.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes searching his face. "You know," she began, her tone light and teasing, "you look pretty handsome, even with that bandage."

"Yeah, right," he muttered. "Handsome."

"I'm serious," Charlie insisted, her smile growing. "You've got that whole rugged, mysterious look going on. Trust me, the girls are going to be all over you."

"What girls, Charlie?" he scoffed.

"Enid?" she asked. "Or...any girl that will ever came here? Eventually."

Carl snorted. "Right."

A flicker of hope. It was a small step, but it was a start, and she was determined to help Carl find his way again. With whole honesty, Charlie could claim that life was good.

It was a sunny day with a light breeze, cooling down a potential heat. Golden light over Alexandria, created an illusion of peace amidst the chaos that always seemed just around the corner. Charlie walked alongside Daryl to walk him to a car that he was supposed to ride for a supply run. Daryl glanced sideways at her, his usual stoic expression softening just a bit as their eyes met. Charlie couldn't help but smile, feeling a flutter in her chest that had become all too familiar lately. She nudged him playfully with her elbow.

"You don't have to walk me," he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, I'm not walking you," she answered. "I have a session and it's the same direction."

Daryl glanced down, scuffing his boot against the gravel. "Yeah, well, it's... good timing then," he mumbled, a touch of shyness creeping into his tone.

"Hey!" Denise samiled. "Here are the things we're running low on."

Charlie watched the exchange, noticing the way Daryl's demeanor shifted slightly, his usual guardedness giving way to a sense of responsibility and care. She felt a surge of warmth. "This thing at the bottom right here, you're talking about the drink, right?" Daryl asked as his eyes scanned the piece of paper.

"I am, but...Eh."

"It's not medical," Charlie said, peaking at the list.

"No, I drew a line between the important stuff and that. I figured, if you saw it."

"All right."

He wanted to walk away so Charlie smiled to Denise and was ready to follow the man. However, the woman spoke. "Anything remotely medical is a priority. Any food. Maybe even food before medicine. But if it happens to be out there..."

"You like it, right?" Daryl asked.

"No, I don't drink pop."

"What the hell's pop?" Dixon furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'm from Ohio."

"Why do you want this?" Charlie asked, stopping the bickering

"Tara was talking about it in her sleep, I think." Denise said with a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "If she likes it...It would be a really nice surprise. I'm not good with that kind of stuff."

Charlie bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. The image of Tara sleep-talking about some random interest, and Denise trying to decipher it as a way to surprise her, was both touching and amusing.

"Don't worry," Charlie leaned on Daryl. "He's not good with this either."

"Uh...don't go out of your way," said Denise with red cheeks.

"I won't."

She suppressed a smirk, amused by how shy and awkward Denise became.

"Good luck," Charlie said to the woman as she was walking with Daryl.

"Hey! You have a meeting!"

"I know, mom!" she called and smiled. "I'll be there in a minute."

As Charlie and Daryl neared the car, Daryl's demeanor shifted slightly, growing more serious as the weight of the supply run settled over him. He exchanged a few words with Rick, then turned back to Charlie, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

Daryl took a step away, preparing to join Rick in the car. "Guess I'll see ya soon," he muttered, trying to keep his tone light.

She reached out and grabbed his arm gently, pulling him back for a moment. "Hey," she said, her voice soft but firm. Daryl stopped and turned to face her fully, his eyes meeting hers.

"Take care of yourself out there, okay?" she said, her concern evident despite her teasing tone earlier. "Don't go doing anything reckless."

His eyes softened, a rare vulnerability showing through. "I won't," he promised, his voice equally soft. "You too. Keep everyone in line while I'm gone."

"I'll try. But seriously, take care."

He nodded, then surprised her by pulling her into a quick hug. It was brief, but it spoke volumes about how much he valued her presence. When he pulled back, he gave her one last look before turning and walking to the car.

"Daryl!" she called again.

Without a word, she stepped forward and quickly pecked his lips, her touch light and swift, ensuring no one else would see. The surprise in his eyes melted into something warmer, more intimate.

For a moment, Daryl looked taken aback. Then, he glanced around quickly, making sure no one was watching. Before Charlie could react, he pulled her back to him and kissed her deeply, his lips lingering on hers. The intensity of the kiss left her breathless and more than a little surprised. As he let her go, he leaned in close and murmured, "If you're gonna kiss me, do it properly, woman."

Charlie's heart raced as she looked up at him, a mix of surprise and warmth flooding her senses. She managed a small, amused smile, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "Got it," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Daryl gave her one last look, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth, before turning and climbing into the passenger seat. Rick started the engine, and the car pulled away, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

Standing there for a moment, her heart racing from the unexpected and intense kiss. She took a deep breath, feeling a mix of pride, worry, and a lingering warmth from the stolen moment.

In the dimly lit room of Alexandria's makeshift therapy space, Charlie sat surrounded by her fellow survivors. Andy, Cass, Denise, and Abraham were all there, as they prepared to share their experiences. "Alright, everyone," Denise began, her voice soft but firm. "Today, let's start by talking about our experiences since the last session. Who would like to go first?"

Andy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hands fidgeting with a piece of paper. "I can start," he offered hesitantly. "Um, well, things have been...better. But...I keep having these nightmares, you know? And it's like I can't shake the feeling that... that it's all gonna happen again."

Denise nodded understandingly. "Nightmares are a common symptom of PTSD, Andy," she said gently. "But remember, they're just memories. They can't hurt you."

Cass nodded in agreement, his expression solemn. "Yeah, I've been having them too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's like... like I'm back there, you know? In the thick of it all."

Denise reached out and squeezed Cass's hand, offering him a small smile of encouragement. "You're not alone, Cass," she said softly. "We're all here for each other."

Abraham cleared his throat, his jaw set in a determined line. "I've been struggling too," he admitted gruffly. "But I'm trying to focus on the present, on what I can control. It's not easy, but... it helps."

Charlie listened to their words, her heart heavy with empathy for her friends. She took a deep breath, steeling herself to share her own struggles. "I've been having...," she opened her mouth, her voice shaky. "I feel heavy sometimes. The guilt, it's overwhelming. Like I could've done more, you know?"

Denise nodded sympathetically. "It's important to remember that you did the best you could with the resources you had," she said gently. "And now, you're here, seeking help. That's a brave step forward."

As the session continued, the group shared their stories, their voices growing stronger with each word spoken. Though the road ahead was long and uncertain, they found solace in the knowledge that they were not alone, that together, they could face whatever challenges came their way.

As she strolled homeward, Charlie's thoughts turned to caring for Judith, allowing Carol the freedom to pursue her own plans for the day. The sun was shining brightly, casting a warm glow over the streets, and Charlie felt no need to hurry. With each step, she made a mental note to take Judith outside to enjoy the beautiful weather and play under the sun.

"You think this shit helps you?"

"I think so," Charlie shrugged. "I don't have troubles with sleeping anymore."

Abraham chuckled. "But is it therapy or Dixon's work?"

"Shut up," she groaned and bumped his side. "Why do you ask?"

"I just...Never mind."

"No. Tell me," Charlie said. "We are friends and if something bothers you, I'm here."

"Lately I've been having those thoughts...that," he said, looking around. "It's just that...Fucking hell. This place, those meetings, Maggie and Glenn...they made me think."

"Think?"

"Yeah. That life isn't all shit and then you die," he explained. "But that there is actually a life. We can make it here. A normal life."

"And is it a bad thing?" Charlie asked.

Abraham sighed. "I'm just wondering if Rosita is the right person."

Charlie stopped walking, her brow furrowing as she processed Abraham's confession. She turned to face him fully, her expression one of genuine concern. "Abraham," she began, her voice soft but firm.

He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "I guess I've just been doing a lot of thinking lately."

"Does she know?"

"That I want to break up with her and move on to be with someone else? No. I don't think so."

"There is someone else?" Charlie gasped.

"N...Not. Not really," Abraham answered.

"I think you should be honest..."

"Charlie."

"With yourself," she said. "Whatever decision you make, do it for yourself. She will understand sooner or later," Charlie shrugged. "Rather later, knowing her."

"Thanks," he said.

"Live is not shit and then you die," she said and a strange feeling washed over her. It was as if she really believed her words, that she believed that life still can be good.

"I guess you're right."

Orange and golden rays were casting ling shadows on Alexandria. Charlie's long hair was blowed by the breeze as she was making her way between the houses. Daryl and Rick came back just minutes ago, and they were cleaning themselves from the whole day away.

"Hey!" Charlie called, making Carl and Andy jump. "What's the gossip?"

"Gossip?" Andy furrowed his eyebrows. "We're men. Grownups. Adults. Alpha men. We don't do gossip."

"Alright, Alpha men," she rolled her eyes.

"Spencer found Deanna," Carl said, trying to cover his smile from Andy's words.

"I can't imagine what that must have been like for him," Charlie murmured, her heart heavy with empathy for Spencer's loss.

Carl nodded in agreement, his expression solemn. "It's hard to lose someone you love," he said softly, his gaze distant as he thought of his own losses.

Andy shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering between Charlie and Carl. "It makes you realize how fragile life is," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "That we're not alone here."

She reached out and squeezed Andy's hand, offering him a small smile of encouragement. "We'll stick together," she promised, her voice unwavering. "No matter what happens."

Carl nodded, determination shining in his eyes. "And if any of us ever... you know," he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Charlie understood what he meant, the weight of their unspoken pact heavy in the air between them. "We'll do what needs to be done," she affirmed, her voice steady. "For each other."

"Promise," Andy demanded. "Both of you. I can't imagine being this thing...Promise."

His confession weighed heavily on Charlie's shoulders, but she knew she couldn't deny them this reassurance, this bond forged in the face of unimaginable horrors. With a deep breath, she met their gazes, her resolve firm.

"I promise," she whispered, her voice steady despite the tremble in her heart. "If it ever comes to that... I promise."

Andy's shoulders sagged with relief, his features softening with gratitude. Carl nodded in agreement, his expression solemn but resolute. No matter what the future held, they would face it together, bound by their shared promise and the unbreakable bond of friendship.

She walked briskly down the deserted street, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of the day's events - Daryl, Abraham, Spencer, and Andy. Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't notice the figure lurking in the shadows until it was too late. Without warning, a heavy blow struck the back of her head, sending her sprawling to the ground. Stars danced before her eyes as pain exploded in her skull, and she struggled to maintain consciousness.

Dazed and disoriented, Charlie tried to push herself up, but a second blow sent her crashing back to the pavement. Darkness threatened to overtake her as she fought to stay conscious, the world spinning wildly around her. Fear coursed through her veins as she realized she was at their mercy, helpless against their onslaught.

Darkness closed in around her.

Her head was throbbing with pain as she nursed a cold compress against her aching skull. The events of the previous night were still a blur, her memory fragmented and disjointed. Charlie looked up, her eyes meeting those of the newcomer for the first time. He was tall and lean, with a calm, confident demeanor that belied the danger lurking beneath the surface.

She didn't know his name, but there was something about him that sent a shiver down her spine, a sense of mystery and intrigue that left her feeling unsettled.

"So, how did you get out?"

"One guard can't cover two exits or third-floor windows," the man said. "I've checked your arsenal. I haven't seen anything like that in a long time. You're well-equipped, but your provisions are low. For the amount of people. Fifty-four?"

"More," Maggie answered.

"Well, I appreciate the cookie," he smiled, looking at Charlie. "My compliments to the chef."

She met his gaze.

"She ain't here," Daryl said.

"I think we got off to a bad start."

"Oh, you think so?" Charlie asked.

"Sorry," he said and gave her a small smile. "We're on the same side, the living side. Rick and Daryl had every reason to leave me out there, but they didn't," the man said.

"That's why you knocked me out with...something?" she asked, every word or even thought bringing pain to her head.

"I just wanted to go home," he answered.

Charlie's brow furrowed in confusion as she exchanged a glance with the others gathered around the table. They had all assumed that Alexandria was a unique sanctuary in a world overrun by chaos and danger. But the stranger's words shattered that illusion, leaving them reeling with disbelief.

"Home?"

"I'm from a place that's a lot like this one. Part of my job is searching out other settlements to trade with. I took your truck because my community needs things. And you two look like trouble. But I was wrong. You're good people." he said. "We might help each other."

"Do you have food?"

"We've started to raise livestock. We scavenge. We grow."

"Why we should believe you?" Rick asked.

"I'll show you. I can take you back home."

"You said you're looking for more settlements," Maggie turned attention towards her. "You mean you're already trading with other groups?"

The man smirked. "Your world's about to get a whole lot bigger."

The room fell silent as they processed his words, each of them lost in their own thoughts. The idea of other settlements existing beyond the safety of Alexandria was both intriguing and unsettling, opening up a world of possibilities and potential dangers they had never considered before.

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [12] NOW

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: Charlie struggles with trust and lost of her friends. As things seem to be bad, they get even worse. A new friendship is being made in the middle of the chaos.

Warnings: mental health talk, killing walkers, panic attacks, language?

Words: 6,358

A/N: I feel exhausted by this chapter. There’re five more chapters until the end of this season and I have a BOMB prepared for you. Also, are you ready for a R O M A N C E as in romance?

Enjoy!!!

"You can hear it. Some of you saw it. They got back here, half of them. Still enough to surround us 20 deep," said Rick and a wave of whispers spread through the Alexandria. "I know you're scared! You haven't seen anything like this! But we're safe...for now. Walls gonna hold together. Can you?" he looked around. "The others, they're gonna be back. Daryl, Abraham, Sasha. They have vehicles. They're gonna lead them away, just like the others! And Glenn and Nickolas are gonna walk back through the front gate after. They know what they're doing. And we...We keep noise to a minimum," Grimes command. "Pull our blinds at night. Even better, keep the lights out. We'll try to make this place as quiet as a graveyard, see if they move on."

"This place is a graveyard." Charlie looked Rick straight in the eye. "We're sitting ducks. You talk about Glenn and Nicholas walking back through that gate like it's a given. But you don't know. You don't know if they're even alive."

"Charlie," Rick's gaze hardened, a mixture of disappointment and determination settling into his features. He looked at her with furrowed brows, his blue eyes reflecting a pained understanding. The hurt in his eyes was almost touchable. "Let's not do this here."

"Rick's plan stopped the whole herd from coming here!" Aaron said. "We've got half of them away."

"How many people died to do this?" she asked.

"I was out there recruiting with Daryl," Aaron said, changing the subject. "Because we did what I wanted...We wound up in a trap set by those people. And I lost my pack. They must have followed our track. They attacked us because of me."

Charlie's mouth opened and closed, the words failing her. Her mind raced, replaying the chaos of the Wolves' attack, the screams, the blood. The enormity of the loss. She looked at Aaron with compassion, though, knowing that everyone can make a mistake.

"There'll be more to talk about," Rick said.

As the meeting finished, the residents of Alexandria moved through the streets. The gravity of their losses weighed heavily on their shoulders. Charlie walked aimlessly, her mind a whirlwind of emotions, until she found herself standing before one of the walls.

It was a simple steel structure. On it, names were written in black paint, a growing list of those who had fallen during those past days. Charlie stepped closer, her eyes scanning names of people she knew or those she couldn't place to a face.

Only one name made her heart clench.

Glen.

Charlie felt a lump rise in her throat as she watched the scene unfold. She had known these people, shared meals and laughter with them. And now, they were nothing more than names on a wall.

Rick approached quietly, but Charlie didn't want to talk to him. She decided to walk away and continue her wandering alone. He respected her decision and didn't follow her. As she walked aimlessly, her mind swirled with thoughts. She was lost in them when she heard raised voices nearby.

Turning the corner, she saw Ron shoving Carl with a force that sent him stumbling backward. Carl, his face twisted in anger, recovered quickly and tackled Ron to the ground. The two boys wrestled furiously, fists flying as they struggled for dominance.

"Hey! Knock it off!" Charlie shouted, rushing forward.

Neither boy paid her any mind, their fight fueled by months of pent-up aggression and grief. Carl pinned Ron to the ground, his fist raised, ready to strike again.

"Stop it!" Charlie yelled, grabbing Carl's arm before he could throw a punch. She pulled him off Ron with a strength born of desperation.

"Let go," Carl pushed her away. "This isn't your business."

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "We can deal with this. We're not babies."

"You aren't? You want to be treated like adults?" Charlie raised her brows. She looked at both of them with disappointment. "Behind those walls are creatures that want to kill us right now. I believe that whatever your business is, can wait until we will be safe."

"I didn't know that Carl needed his nanny to do everything for him," Ron called as he saw Charlie was walking away.

Without warning, she reached out and pushed Ron forcefully, causing him to stumble backward and land on the ground. The shock of her action silenced the boys, their eyes wide with surprise. The boy blinked, stunned by Charlie's sudden display of strength. He looked up at her, his expression a mix of confusion and indignation. Carl, too, was taken aback, his anger momentarily forgotten as he watched Charlie assert herself.

"You want to be a man, then be a man," she said. "Or maybe I should beat your ass? So you would toughen up."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Carl and Ron to themselves.

Later that day, Charlie sat on the porch, a sense of calm settling over her as she cradled Judith in her arms. The baby gurgled contentedly, her small fingers wrapping around Charlie's thumb. Despite the chaos that surrounded them, she was grateful for moments like these, as they offered a glimpse of peace, normality.

From her place, she could watch as Rosita led a group of Alexandrians through a series of training exercises. She moved with purpose, her movements fluid and precise as she demonstrated various techniques for hand-to-hand combat and weapon proficiency.What it couldn't be said about the people of Alexandria...and Eugene.

What was the point of teaching them these skills? They were too scared. Those people should train a long time ago, not now when death is - literally- knocking at their doors. In her mind, the people of Alexandria were not soldiers. They were not warriors trained for combat. And while learning self-defense skills might give them a false sense of security, Charlie couldn't help but question whether it was truly worth the effort.

Lost in her thoughts, she was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Looking up, she saw Rosita striding towards her, her expression dark and stormy. "What is your problem?"

Charlie just looked at her.

"You not helping us is some kind of rebellion against Rick? Because if it is, then stop it."

"It's not a rebellion," Charlie answered. "I'm not sure it's the best use of our resources. I believe there are other priorities we should be focusing on."

Rosita scoffed, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "Other priorities? Like what, exactly? Waiting around for the next attack to happen? Hoping that we'll be lucky enough to survive?"

Charlie shook her head, her own frustration mounting. "That's not what I'm saying, Rosita."

"And you could live just like that? Knowing that you didn't do everything you could to keep them here."

"Those aren't my people."

"I don't get that, Charlie," she shook his head. "We're all in this together now. We have to look out for each other, no matter where we come from."

Charlie focused all her attention on Judith in her arms, ignoring Espinosa as hard as she could.

"So pull yourself together," she added before walking away, leaving Charlie alone. Alone with even bigger mess in her head.

A rag in hand, her eyes fixed on the name scrawled in black paint: Glenn. Her heart clenched with every stroke of the rag. She couldn't bring herself to believe that he was gone, that his name belonged among the fallen.  Tears welled in her eyes as she continued to clean the wall, her movements growing more frantic with each passing moment.

But as she wiped away the last traces of his name, a sense of resignation settled over her. With a heavy heart, Charlie stepped back from the wall, the rag falling from her hand.

"Hey!"

She sniffed and whipped tears away from her eyes, so he wouldn't see that she cried. "Andy."

"Do you feel okay?"

"Have you been watching me again?" she looked at him.

"I...I just...I know it must be hard," he said. "Besides, I thought you hate me...us...That you hate us for what had happened."

Charlie turned to the boy with furrowed eyebrows. "I don't hate you. I don't understand you, but I don't hate you."

The boy felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He hadn't been sure how she would react to his approach, but her response filled him with relief. She glanced back at him, her expression softening. Andy smiled, a genuine expression of gratitude spreading across his face.

"He was a good guy," he pointed at the wall.

"He helped me escape," Charlie said, looking at the letters that weren't as black as it used to be. "When everything started. He introduced me to his people and that's how I met Rick. He's everything to me."

"And the kids."

"And the kids."

"See? You have people to live for," he said. "That's why I don't understand, why you refuse our help."

"I said I don't need help," Charlie snapped, her voice rising with anger. "I don't want to be treated like some fragile flower that needs to be coddled. I'm fine on my own."

His patience wore thin, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. "This isn't about coddling you, Charlie. It's about making sure you're okay. And right now, you're not okay."

"Who are you to decide what's best for me, Andy? You don't know what I've been through."

"I may not know everything about your past, Charlie, but I do know that you deserve to be happy and healthy," Andy countered, his voice tinged with frustration. "And if that means getting help, then so be it."

Charlie shook her head, her anger boiling over. "I'm done talking about this, Andy. I don't need you or anyone else..."

Dust flew into the air, obscuring the once-clear sky with a cloud of chaos. The ground shook violently as the tower on the eastern perimeter collapsed with a thunderous roar. With the tower's fall came a deafening silence, broken only by the distant groans of approaching walkers drawn by the noise. Panic erupted among the residents as they scrambled for safety.

Charlie blinked away the confusion that clouded her mind, focusing on the task at hand. With a deep breath, she steadied herself, her gaze darting around the chaotic scene before her. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to run, to hide, to escape the nightmare unfolding around her. And then, amidst the confusion, she spotted him – Andy, lying on the ground, his eyes wide with fear.

"Andy," she called, but he didn't answer. She reached out a hand to help him up, her voice calm and reassuring. "Come on, Andy. We need to keep moving."

But Andy recoiled from her touch, his eyes wide with panic. She cupped his cheeks and made him look at her, aware of the moans right behind her. "You're not alone. I'm here with you. I'm here."

His eyes softened and so did his breaths. Panicked gasps giving way to calmer rhythms as her words washed over him like a balm. With each reassuring touch and gentle reassurance, Charlie felt Andy's resolve strengthen. Slowly but surely, he began to regain control over his fear. She helped him to his feet, refusing to let the boy die. Together, they stumbled forward, their steps unsteady but determined. "Let's get out of here."

Hand in hand, they ran through the chaotic streets of Alexandria, their footsteps echoing in the air mingled with the sounds of screams and groans of the undead horde. "Run!" With every stride, Charlie felt Andy's grip on her hand tighten, his determination matching her own. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, but they refused to slow down, their shared determination driving them forward. "Come on!"

"I try!"

"Try harder!" she yelled. Charlie's eyes widened as she spotted Rosita and Tara slipping into a nearby garage, their movements quick and purposeful."Rosita! Tara!" Charlie called out."Wait!"

Rosita turned towards the sound of Charlie's voice, her expression tense but determined. Charlie and Andy sprinted as fast as their legs would carry them towards the garage where Rosita and Tara had been waiting for them. Every step sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through their veins, their hearts pounding in sync with the thunderous roar of the undead horde.

"Hurry!" Rosita called.

"Come on, Andy, we're almost there!" Charlie shouted over her shoulder, her voice strained with urgency as they raced towards safety.

Andy's breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself to keep pace with the girl, his muscles burning with exertion. "I'm right behind you! Just keep going!"

Together, they stumbled into the dimly lit garage, their chests heaving with exertion as they collapsed against the nearest wall. Relief washed over them in waves as they heard the sound of the doors closing shut the second they get inside.

"We made it," Charlie whispered.

"We did," Andy whispered and waved their hands that were still intertwined.

Closing her eyes, she let out a long, shaky exhale, willing herself to find a moment of respite amidst the turmoil. The sounds of the undead horde seemed to fade into the background as she focused on the rhythmic beating of her own heart, a steady reminder of her survival.

It could be minutes, hours, days, or weeks since they entered the garage. The distant sounds of the undead horde echoed through the air, a constant reminder of the invasion of their sanctuary. Charlie's grip tightened around the handle of her weapon, her senses heightened as she listened intently for the rhythmic moans and the noise of walkers hands against the surface.

"Most people got inside their houses," Tara interrupted the silence. "There's that."

As the distant sounds of the walkers grew louder, Andy's breath quickened, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. His eyes darted nervously around the dimly lit garage, his hands trembling as he clutched his sleeves. "Charlie," he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you let me out there?" he asked.

"What kind of question is that?"

"I'm pathetic. I can't defend myself, I can't even escape properly," Andy explained. "Wouldn't it be better to just...let me die?"

In an instant, she was transported back to that fateful night on the farm, watching helplessly as Dale was attacked by a walker. The horror and helplessness she felt then still haunted her. She had stood frozen, unable to save him. She could smell the blood and hear the screams of the man.

"No one deserves to die like this," Charlie answered, shaking her head to get rid of the images. Her heart went out to her new friend as she reached out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey. It's fine. We'll all get through this."

But Andy's panic only seemed to grow, his eyes wide with terror as he looked towards the garage entrance. "I can't, Charlie. I'm so scared."

"I know you're scared, Andy.

"You aren't."

"I'm freaked out. I think I pissed myself when we were running," she tried to cheer him up, but his face was still uneasy. "I'm just...I taught myself to do things despite being scared. I do things...And then I'm thinking."

"Can...Can we make a deal?" he asked. "If we're out of this..."

"When we're out of this," she corrected.

"When we're out of this, can you help me?" he looked the girl in the eyes.  "And then I would help you."

As Charlie's gaze lingered on Andy, a flicker of doubt crept into her mind, casting a shadow over her earlier resolve. She believed people of Alexandria were hopeless, they were already dead. But looking into his eyes, seeing how scared and unprepared he was, made things to her. Those people. Andy. They deserve to at least try to survive...Even though the chances were small.

"We need to focus on surviving this first," she said.

Rosita shook her head. "You think this is it?"

"What?" Tara furrowed her eyebrows.

"You think this place is over?"

"I think we gotta earn it. All of us." the woman answered. "Whether it's waiting, knowing if everyone's safe, dealing with that, or fighting them. A place like this has gotta have a price, right?"

"We haven't paid that already?" Charlie asked.

"Apparently not."

"It feels like Abraham is dead," Rosita said out of nowhere.

"He's not dead," Andy said.

The woman's head sprung up. "How do you know? You don't even know him."

"Are you joking?" Andy's jaw dropped. "He looks like he can bend the steel with his bare hands! How do I know?"

Charlie chuckled at his high pitched voice.

"I agree. I didn't see it. Charlie, have you seen it? Exactly," Tara nodded. "He's not dead and this place isn't over."

"Can we...like not talk about dying? Anymore?" Andy asked. "Please?"

"Right," Tara chuckled. "We're not dead. So, what are we gonna do, gorgeous?"

Rosita straightened her back and took a deep breath. Whirls in her mind started to turn in her head, as she was trying to come up with a plan. "Let's see what's happening on the other side." she said with a new wave of determination. "We can shoot out this lock."

"Wait what?!" the boy, who was sitting on the floor, opened his eyes wider. "What is she saying?"

"I told you we do things," Charlie got up. "And we think later."

Tara chuckled as she saw Andy's expression and turned to the closed doors.

"However," Charlie walked up to Rosita and leaned in to inspect the lock. "We shouldn't waste the bullet."

Tara nodded in agreement, her eyes scanning the door for any weaknesses. The three women exchanged determined glances, their minds racing as they formulated a plan. Rosita and Tara looked around the area for any useful tools, while Charlie kept her focus on the door, trying to envision how they could manipulate the lock.

"You won't need to," Eugene said and got up from his spot. Andy followed his steps and after placing hands on his hips, he leaned in. "Lockpocking is within my skill set."

"Are you like a Charlie's Angel or something?" Andy asked, looking in awe at the three women in front of him and Eugene.

The man turned to the boy and offended grimace. "I would much prefer to be called Sherlock Holmes, instead."

Charlie, Rosita, Tara, Eugene, and Andy moved cautiously through the dimly lit house, their footsteps echoing softly against the concrete floor. The air inside was stale and thick with tension, the faint scent of dust and fear lingering in the atmosphere. With weapons at the ready, they navigated through the narrow hallway, their senses on high alert for any sign of movement.

As they approached the first room, a sudden, sharp noise pierced the silence. Rosita motioned for the group to halt, her eyes narrowing as she listened intently. The unmistakable sound of a struggle reached their ears. Entering the house further, they were met with a chilling sight. In the center of the room, Denise stood with her eyes wide with terror. Standing behind her, a man dressed in ragged clothes and brandishing a knife held her in a menacing grip. His wild eyes darted to the newcomers.

"Denise!"

"Stay back, or I'll kill her," the man – a captured Wolf – snarled, pressing the blade closer to Denise's throat.

In the last moment, Charlie reached out for Andy's arm and pushed him back. Heart pounded in her chest as she watched the scene unfold. She exchanged a quick, determined glance with Rosita, who kept her weapon trained on the man but didn't fire. They couldn't risk hitting Denise.

"Just be still," the man said. "Lower the guns. Slide them over.

"You don't need her," Andy said.

"No. I don't."

The man was beyond reason, his eyes darting around the room as he edged towards the front door. Denise's terrified eyes met Charlie's, silently pleading for help.

"You're not gonna make it out there," Rosita noticed.

"We'll see," he said, while he continued to back out of the room, pulling Denise along. Doctor's eyes met Charlie's, wide with terror. However, none of them could move to help her, knowing very well that the man was unpredictable. Shortly, the door closed behind them, leaving the group alone.

Andy's eyes were wild with fear and anger as he watched the Wolf drag Denise out of the house. His muscles tensed, ready to spring into action and chase after them. "We can't let him take her!" he shouted, his voice shaking with urgency.

"Stop!" Charlie saw the desperation in his eyes and quickly moved to block his path. "Andy, stop!" she commanded, her voice firm and authoritative. "You can't just run after them. It's too dangerous!"

"She's in danger!" Andy screamed, pointing at the doors.

"But you won't help her!"

"I can't let her go! She's my family!" Andy screamed once more. Suddenly, his defensive posture dropped and the anger was nowhere to be found. "She's my...She's the only person I have left," his voice broke, and soon warm tears started running down his cheeks. "She's the only thing left."

He wrapped his arms around Charlie, who offered him a warm pat on the back. He buried his face in her shoulder, and grope the back of her shirt tightly. His shoulders were shaking as sobs were escaping his mouth. "We'll help her." Charlie said, rubbing his back. "We won't leave her."

"We have to try," Tara said.

"We cannot go out there," Rosita protested. "There're too many of them."

Andy pushed Charlie, who was now holding his arm."He's gonna kill her!" the boy yelled.

"We won't get to her," Rosita firmly said as she was looking the boy straight in the eyes.

"She needs us!" Tara backed up the boy.

"We'll die!" Charlie let out a frustrated groan. "That is what will happen. We have one gun and the streets are filled with those things."

"That man needs her," Espinosa nodded. "She's a doctor. He's sick. And I think we've seen that he knows how to survive. But we need to make sure that Morgan and Carol are okay."

"We need a plan," said Charlie.

"We need to do something!"

"I promised you," she said. "And I will do everything to help her...When the tome is right."

Frustration boiled over within Andy, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. With a primal roar, he swung his fist towards the nearby wall, the impact reverberating through his body. As Andy withdrew his hand, his knuckles bruised and bloodied, he took a moment to compose himself.

"Son of a..."

Charlie winced, her own hand instinctively reaching out towards him before hesitating. She wanted to offer comfort, to reassure him that they would find a solution together, but she was unsure of how to approach him in his current state of mind.

"They're up," Rosita called from the room.

Carol and Morgan slowly regained consciousness, groaning as they stirred from the fog of unconsciousness. Their heads throbbed with pain, remnants of the Wolf's brutal attack that had left them sprawled on the floor. Before she approached the two, Charlie cast a glance back towards Andy.

He raised a hand in a reassuring gesture. He flashed her a tight-lipped smile, his eyes reflecting determination despite the pain evident in his bruised knuckles. With a supportive squeeze of Andy's shoulder, Charlie turned her attention back to Carol and Morgan.

It was dark already, when Charlie found herself in the dimly lit room. She was sitting in front of Carol, their eyes fixed on the window that offered a view of the outside world. They were holding hands, Charlie's knuckles white from squeezing it around the woman's hand. As they watched in silence, their thoughts turned to their friends and fellow survivors, scattered throughout the town, each facing their own battles against the relentless onslaught of walkers.

"I wish Daryl were here," Charlie confessed.

"I know, Charlie," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of longing.

"I just... I feel safer when he's here, you know?"

Carol's gaze softened, understanding the depth of Charlie's feelings. "I get it, Charlie," she replied gently. "Daryl has his ways."

"I just wish he were here now, with everything that's going on."

"Things do seem easier with him."

"Do you think he's still alive?"

Carol opened her eyes wider. "Don't even think otherwise. He's Daryl. He'll come back eventually."

She nodded, trying to believe her friend and ignore this small voice that told her otherwise. "Can I tell you something?" Charlie asked.

Carol squeezed Charlie's shoulder reassuringly. "Of course, Sweet Thing."

On one hand, she longed for the comfort and support that Carol could offer. She knew that the woman would listen without judgment and would do everything in her power to help. But on the other hand, Charlie feared that revealing her struggles would only add to the already heavy burden Carol carried.

"Charlie?" the woman brought her back. "You worry me."

"I think, I'm going crazy, Carol," she said finally.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't sleep. I see all of them when I do. I hear their voices," Charlie confessed. "When I was in the woods the other day...I thought I saw Sophia. I don't feel safe...anywhere. Well, not anymore. It was better when I knew Daryl was here," she added. "I don't know who I can trust anymore."

"Sweet thing," Carol cooed and wrapped her arm around Charlie.

"I wish to be dead."

Carol's heart clenched at Charlie's words, her own eyes welling with tears as she reached out to motherly caress her back. "Oh, Charlie," she whispered, voice thick with emotion.

"I don't know how to make it stop," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Carol wrapped her arms around Charlie, holding her close as they shared their pain and sorrow. "We'll figure it out together," she vowed, her voice a soothing balm in the darkness. "You don't have to face this alone. I'm here for you, Charlie, no matter what."

The sound of footsteps echoed faintly through the darkness, jolting Charlie and Carol out of their shared moment of vulnerability. They tensed, their senses on high alert as they listened for any sign of danger. Carol instinctively reached for her weapon, her grip tightening as she prepared for the worst. Beside her, Charlie's breathing quickened, her heart pounding in her chest as she braced herself for whatever might come.

"Morgan," Charlie said as the man walked out of the shadow.

He was a newcomer in Alexandria. A man of few words, one could call him. His demeanor always calm and composed. His eyes, deep and intense, held a wisdom that belied his years, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Charlie didn't know if she trusted him; however, she couldn't help but feel a sense of respect for him. She didn't know him well, but there was a person, who did.

Rick and Morgan shared a history together. Grimes wanted the man to join their group long ago, when Morgan still had a son. Rick found in Morgan an ally, he considered his advices, and before all - he trusted the man. So even if trust was too strong of a word, Charlie didn't feel suspicious of him.

As he exchanged a nod with Carol, Charlie sensed a tension. So she made the decision to quietly slip away, hoping to give them the space they needed to address whatever issues lay between them. "I'd better be going."

It was a pure mistery how the group found themselves outside. Surrounded by the dead. With every swing of her weapon, Charlie felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, driving her forward in the face of overwhelming odds. As the battle raged on, Charlie caught sight of Rick in the distance, leading the charge with a fierce determination that was both inspiring and terrifying.

Maggie's scream brought her attention from killing the dead. Charlie locked eyes with Glenn, her mind reeling with a mix of disbelief and relief. She had thought him lost, but here he was, alive and fighting alongside them. He was trapped against the wall, his eyes searching for a way out.

Her mind began to think through a plan to get to him as fast as possible. However, before she could put to life any of her ideas the walkers around Glenn began to drop dead out of nowhere. Her heart skipped a beat as she spotted Abraham amidst the throng of walkers. For a moment, Charlie could only stare in awe at the sight before her, a sense of gratitude swelling within her chest. All her friends were alive and here.

With new determination etched into every fiber of her being, Charlie plunged back into the battle, her weapon slashing through the air with deadly precision as she fought against the never ending horde of walkers. Each strike was fueled by a refusal to surrender. Though the outcome was uncertain, she refused to go down without a fight. If she was going to die, she would die on her feet, fighting until her last breath.

As the battle against the walkers raged on, a sudden explosion of flames erupted from the nearby lake, casting a sinister glow over the chaos unfolding around them. The walkers, once driven by an insatiable hunger for the living, now turned as one, their decaying forms drawn towards the heat. A shiver ran down Charlie's spine as she watched in horror, the flames casting eerie shadows across the twisted faces of the undead.

As the chaos died down and a sense of calm once again settled over the landscape, Charlie's first instinct was to ensure the safety of her companions. With a quick glance around, she took stock of the group, relief flooding her heart as she saw them all accounted for, battered but alive.

Suddenly, a hard but small body collided with hers. At first she thought about Carl, however it was somebody else. Andy held her tightly, his grip firm yet gentle as he sought solace in her embrace. His voice trembled with emotion as he spoke, tears glistening in his eyes. "Charlie," he whispered, his voice choked with relief, "You're alive."

"I'm not so easy to kill," she said. "Unfortunately."

"Shut up," he answered. "I really thought I would watch you die."

Charlie's heart constricted at Andy's words, the weight of his admission hitting her like a physical blow. Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm here."

Andy's arms tightened around her, drawing her closer as he held her with a fierce tenderness. "I know," he said softly, his voice choked with emotion.

As they lingered in each other's arms, Charlie's gaze drifted towards the distance, her eyes widening in disbelief. A familiar figure emerging from the smoke and ash. Without a moment's hesitation, she broke away from Andy and into a run, her feet pounding against the charred earth as she raced towards him.

"Daryl?!" Charlie called out, her voice filled with a mixture of relief and joy. As she drew closer, Daryl turned towards her. Relief was quickly overshadowed by a tidal wave of anger and frustration. "How dare you!" she yelled, her voice raw with hurt and betrayal. "I thought you're dead, asshole! I thought you left us! You left me!"

With each word, Charlie's anger boiled over, her fists pounding against Daryl's chest with a force fueled by days of pain and uncertainty. Tears streamed down her face as she unleashed her pent-up emotions, the weight of his absence crushing her spirit. He stood there, his expression a mix of remorse and guilt.

Without a word, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her trembling form. Charlie resisted at first, her muscles tense with the remnants of her fury. But as Daryl held her close, his touch gentle and comforting, she felt the tension slowly seep out of her body. With a shaky breath, she leaned into his embrace, allowing herself to be held. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the simple joy of being together, alive and safe in each other's arms. "I thought I'd lost you," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Daryl's expression softened, his rough hand coming up to brush away a stray tear from her cheek. "I ain't ever gonna leave you, Charlie," he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion.

Without a thought, she leaned in and pressed her lips gently against his, a soft and tender gesture. For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as they shared the simple intimacy of their connection, their hearts beating in sync as they savored the sweetness of the moment. It was a kiss filled with unspoken words.

Charlie stood at Carl's bedside, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. The infirmary was quiet, the silence almost palpable as she absorbed the gravity of the recent events. Silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft murmur of distant voices and the occasional shuffle of footsteps echoing through the dimly lit room.

She felt a surge of gratitude that Carl was alive, that he had made it through yet another ordeal. But her relief was tinged with a deep, aching sadness as her thoughts turned to Deanna. Her vision, her strength, and her unwavering hope had given everyone a sense of purpose and direction. With her gone, a void had been left. Deanna's death felt like the end of an era, a turning point that left the community adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

With a heavy heart, Charlie gazed down at Carl, her hand clasping his in a gesture of silent solidarity and support. His face was pale and drawn, his features marred by the stark absence of his left eye. She couldn't shake the memory of that fateful day on the farm, when Carl had been shot and nearly lost his life. He was lying in the bed, just like he did now, but Charlie never checked on him - not even once. She was so cruel to him back in time.

But now, as she sat by his bedside, her heart ached with a sense of profound regret. She realized now, more than ever, how much she had missed out on by shutting him out of her life. Tears welled up in Charlie's eyes as she reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from Carl's forehead, her touch gentle and tender.

"I'm sorry, Rick," she said once she heard the steps, not even once looking away from the boy.

"Don't be," he said with a reassuring smile, searching for her eyes.

"I was wrong," she sighed. "I thought they lived too long behind those walls to learn. I doubted you."

Rick regarded her with a somber expression, his gaze reflecting a mixture of understanding and empathy. He knew the weight of Charlie's admission, the burden of realizing the depth of her own misjudgments.

"If we work together, we can do huge things," he said."Nothing is lost. We will rebuild the walls. We'll expand the walls. It's possible."

"I know. I see that now."

"Good," Rick placed a hand on her shoulder. "Because I'll need you."

Charlie smiled tightly and then once again looked at Carl, feeling her heart clench once more.

"He knows," Rick said. Charlie looked up at Rick, her eyes brimming with emotion as his words washed over her like a soothing balm. "All that matters to him is that you're here now, that you're willing to be a part of his life."

Rick enveloped her in a comforting embrace, his arms a strong and steady anchor amidst the storm of her emotions. She clung to him, seeking solace in his embrace as he held her close, offering her the support and reassurance she so desperately needed.

"You have people around to live for, Charlie," Rick said softly, his voice a gentle whisper in her ear. Charlie nodded against Rick's shoulder, her heart overflowing with gratitude for his kindness and understanding. He held her close, his embrace a silent reassurance that she was not alone in her pain. With Rick's words echoing in her mind, she made a decision about her future.

With hesitant steps, Charlie made her way through the quiet streets of Alexandria, her mind swirling with uncertainty. Each footfall felt heavy, laden with the weight of her indecision as she navigated the familiar paths that crisscrossed the community.

As she passed by the rows of neatly maintained houses, Charlie found herself torn between conflicting impulses. She felt adrift, lost in a sea of doubt and confusion, unable to find her way to solid ground. With each passing moment, the weight of her indecision grew heavier, threatening to overwhelm her fragile resolve. But still, Charlie pressed on, her heart torn between the desire for companionship and the need for solitude.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"I didn't expect to see you here."

Charlie shifted uncomfortably, feeling a pang of self-consciousness at Cass's unexpected reaction. "I... I was just passing by," she stammered, unsure of how to explain her sudden appearance.

"Well, you're more than welcome to join me," he said, his tone gentle and inviting.

She perched on a bench next to him, heavy silence falling around them. After a moment, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say - the weight of her confession pressing down on her like a heavy burden.

"I need your help."

She searched his eyes for any sign of judgment or hesitation, but instead found only understanding and acceptance. Cass's expression softened, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips as their eyes locked in a moment of shared understanding.

"I want to get better."

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | IN THE MEANTIME

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: When Charlie is left with Judith and Carl, she makes new friends. Alexandria is under attack.

Warnings: panic attack, talking about mental health and death, language, idk if there’s more

Words: 3.898

As Charlie walked with Judith, the weight of her decision to stay in Alexandria settled heavily on her shoulders. Guilt that she wasn't helping her family was the cause of heartache. But her thoughts were interrupted as the wheels of Judith's stroller became stuck on a small stone protruding from the ground. With a frustrated sigh, Charlie tried to maneuver the stroller free, but to no avail.

Just as she was beginning to grow exasperated, a voice spoke up from behind her. "Need a hand?"

Charlie turned to find a young boy that she saw in the infirmary standing before her, a friendly smile on his face. She hesitated for a moment, her instincts urging her to be cautious, but she knew it was a big too much with a baby. So she nodded in agreement.

With practiced ease, the boy knelt down beside the stroller and deftly maneuvered it free from its predicament. As he straightened up, Charlie couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for doubting him. After all, he had only been trying to help.

"Thanks," she said, her voice tinged with gratitude.

"No worries."

As Charlie resumed her walk with Judith, she heard more footsteps next to her. Glancing to her side, she saw the same boy walking beside her, his hands shoved casually into his pockets as he matched her stride.

"Uh, can I help you with something?" she asked, her voice laced with caution, brows furrowed.

The boy shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Just figured I'd keep you company," he replied casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Charlie's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?" she pressed, her tone tinged with suspicion.

He flashed her a grin, his demeanor surprisingly relaxed. "Why not?" he countered, his tone playful. "I'm waking here alone everyday."

"And how has it been?"

"Since the beginning?" he answered. "Well...minus a week or two, I think..." he said a silence fell between them. "What's your name?"

Charlie hesitated for a moment, her mind racing as she weighed her options. She didn't know this boy, didn't know anything about him or his intentions, and yet here he was, shadowing her every move like a persistent stray dog.

"It's Charlie," she replied finally, keeping her responses short and to the point.

The boy nodded, seemingly unperturbed by her curt demeanor. "Nice to meet you, Charlie," he said cheerfully, his smile widening. "I'm Andy."

"So, Andy," she said after a moment. "You've been walking alone this whole time?" she pressed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

The boy shrugged, his expression unreadable. "For the most part," he admitted, his tone casual.

"And you don't want to go out?"

"Go out? Where?" he asked and looked at her, immediately knowing what she was thinking. "Oh, you mean out."

"Yeah."

"Are you crazy?" he chuckled. "After what I saw back there? Nah, thanks. That's just...not gonna happen."

"World is different know. Peaceful," she said. "And it is waiting out there to be explored."

The boy shook his head adamantly, his expression one of staunch determination. "I'll take my chances in here, thanks," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "At least I know what to expect."

"Why?"

"I think you know it the best," he said. "And Rick knows it. Isn't it why he's out fighting for this place?"

"Your thinking is dangerous," Charlie said. "Places like this makes you comfortable and weak. You forget about the dangers, because you have walls right? You laugh the dead in the eye from the comfort of your white house. But sooner or later, it falls. It always does. So what would you do when it will?"

"Maybe you're right," he shrugged. "But I saw what is happening with you after you went out."

Charlie's brow furrowed in confusion as the realization dawned on her. The boy walking beside her, the one who had seemed so friendly and helpful, was the same one who had been watching her all along. Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of it all, a sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach.

"You've been watching me," she said quietly, her voice tinged with accusation.

"I-I didn't mean to... I wasn't trying to spy on you or cause you any harm," he stammered, his voice tinged with desperation. "I just... I wanted to make sure you were okay. I heard about your group, about what you've been through, and... I just wanted to know if you were a threat."

His words spilled out in a rush, his hands trembling as he struggled to regain his composure. He knew he had crossed a line, had betrayed Charlie's trust in the worst possible way, and now he was paying the price for his indiscretion.

"But I know you're not a threat," he said. "I know you've been struggling."

Charlie stopped. "You know shit."

"I know more than you think."

"Yes, because you've been spying on me!"

"I know about your insomnia, panic attacks..."

"Stop it," she cut him off. "What do you want."

"I want to help!"

"Help?"

"There're people here, who can help you," Andy said, gesticulating. "They helped me!"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she mumbled.

"Just..." he sighed, trying to reach her arm, but Charlie leaned back. "Just meet me later. There's a house at the very end of that street."

"And why would I want to meet you?"

"I think we have a lot in common."

"And you know it because you've been watching me."

"I know it sounds crazy," he continued, his tone pleading. "But I've been watching you because... because I think I can help. I know things, things that might be useful to you and your group. Please, just hear me out."

Charlie regarded him with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity, her brow furrowing in thought as she weighed his words. She knew she should be angry, should demand answers for his actions, but there was something in his tone, in the earnestness of his plea, that gave her pause.

"I'll think about it."

With a last look, she walked away.

Charlie smiled warmly as she approached Carl, gently lifting Judith out of the stroller and cradling her in her arms. Judith cooed softly, her chubby cheeks flushed with warmth as she snuggled closer to Charlie.

"Hey, Carl," Charlie said softly, her voice filled with affection as she handed Judith over to him. "Guess who's ready for her next meal?"

Carl's face lit up with a smile as he took Judith from Charlie, his expression one of pure joy as he gazed down at his baby sister. "Thanks, Charlie," he said gratefully, his tone filled with appreciation. "You're the best."

Charlie chuckled, a sense of warmth flooding her heart at the sight of the siblings reunited. "Just doing my part," she replied modestly, her gaze softening as she watched Carl cradle Judith in his arms.

As Carl settled in to feed Judith, Charlie couldn't help but feel a sense of pride wash over her. She had spent so much time looking after Judith, helping to care for her and keep her safe, and seeing her in Carl's arms now filled her with a sense of satisfaction unlike anything she had ever felt before.

"Did she sleep okay?" Carl asked, breaking the silence as he glanced up at Charlie with a curious expression.

Charlie nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Like a little angel," she replied affectionately. "She's been so good today, haven't you, Judith?"

Judith gurgled happily in response, her tiny fingers reaching out to grab onto Carl's shirt as she cooed contentedly. Carl's smile widened at the sight, a sense of pride evident in his eyes as he held his baby sister close.

"But I could do it, you know?"

"Of course," she said. "But you're a teenager, who should do what teenagers do. So?"

"So?"

"How's it going with the girl?"

Carl's smile faltered slightly at the question, his gaze flickering away as he shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, it's...not going," he replied vaguely, his voice lacking its usual confidence.

"What?"

Carl sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he ran a hand through his hair. "It's just... complicated."

"I think you're making it complicated."

"Thanks, Charlie," he said firmly. "But I'll deal with this on my own."

"Okay, Big Man," she said. "Whatever you say."

"And umm, Charlie," he said. Carl's voice became hesitant as he approached the topic. "So, uh, I talked to Gabriel earlier," he said tentatively, his eyes darting to Charlie for her reaction.

Charlie's expression darkened at the mention of Gabriel, her annoyance evident in the way her jaw clenched and her brows furrowed. She had little patience for the man who had once turned his back on their group.

"And that was your first mistake."

"He said he wants to be able to defend himself and the others," Carl answered. "I think, he understands now."

"Understands now, does he?" she muttered, her tone laced with skepticism. "After everything he's done?"

Carl shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, a sense of unease creeping into his demeanor. He knew Charlie had good reason to be wary of Gabriel, especially considering his past betrayals, but he couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps Gabriel was genuine in his desire to change.

"I know it's hard to believe," he admitted reluctantly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But maybe people can change, given the chance."

"It's your decision, and I will respect whatever you choose to do," Charlie placed her hand on his shoulder. "But I won't help him in anything."

"Of course," he nodded.

Charlie smiled at the boy, and suddenly her thoughts drifted back to her conversation with Andy earlier that day. She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at the boy.

"Could you watch Judith for the rest of the day?"

"Sure," he nodded. "But, where are you going?"

"I have somewhere I need to be," Charlie explained.

"Is it safe? The place where you're going?" he asked.

She smiled and felt a wave of warmth spreading down her body, at the sign of affection. "Yes. Don't worry."

Charlie stood outside Andy's door, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for him to answer. The more she waited, the more she was unsure whether her decision to come was bad or good. After what felt like an eternity, the door finally creaked open, revealing Andy standing on the other side.

Andy's surprise was evident in the way his eyes widened and his mouth fell open slightly as he registered Charlie's unexpected presence. He hadn't been expecting her to show up at his door.

"Hey."

"I..." he shook his head. "Didn't expect you to actually come."

"Should I go?"

"No!" he jumped. "I mean...No. Come in." Andy said, and he stepped aside to let her enter, his eyes never leaving her face as she crossed the threshold into his home.

Stepping inside Andy's house, she couldn't help but notice how empty it felt. The air seemed to hang heavy with silence, broken only by the soft creaking of floorboards beneath her feet. The walls were bare, devoid of any personal touches or decorations, giving the space an eerie sense of emptiness.

As she made her way further into the house, her eyes fell upon the scattered books strewn haphazardly across the floor.

"Sorry for the mess," he said sheepishly, his tone tinged with embarrassment. "We don't have many guests."

"We?" Charlie turned around to look at Andy, her curiosity piqued by his mention of "we." She noticed him rubbing his forehead, a gesture that seemed to betray a hint of discomfort or unease.

"I invited you here to introduce you to someone."

"Why this someone couldn't go out?" she raised her eyebrow.

Before Andy could respond, the door creaked open, and a man entered the room. He was tall and wiry, with a shaggy mane of dark hair and a weathered face that spoke of a life lived on the edge. His eyes held a glint of mischief, and there was a confident swagger to his step as he crossed the threshold.

"Charlie, meet Cass," Andy said, gesturing towards the newcomer. "He's a friend of mine. He basically created this place."

"I thought it was Reg?"

"Walls like this couldn't be raised by a one man," the man said. "Oh, and I don't like going out," he added, while squeezing her hand. "It's due to my condition."

"Condition?"

"Cass... he's been through a lot," he began slowly, his voice tinged with sadness. "After...the walls had been raised. It's a constant struggle for him, and sometimes it's hard for him to leave the safety of his home."

"Like we all, right?" Cass said. "And it took a tool on us all."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked.

"Andy... he suffers from PTSD and anxiety," he explained softly, his eyes filled with empathy. "Insomnia. Eating disorder. He spends more time in the infirmary than here."

Charlie listened intently, her heart going out to Andy as she tried to imagine the daily battles he must face.

"What's up with you?" Cass asked, lowering glasses on his nose.

"There's nothing wrong with me," she said firmly, her voice tinged with certainty. In her mind, Charlie couldn't fathom the idea that she might have a mental condition. "I can assure you, I'm perfectly capable of handling myself."

"Then you're a medical miracle."

Charlie's anger simmered beneath the surface as she met Cass's cynical gaze. She could feel the heat rising in her chest, fueled by his dismissive demeanor. How dare he question her strength? How dare he doubt her abilities?

"I don't need your judgment," she snapped, her voice sharp with indignation. "I know myself better than anyone, and I don't appreciate you insinuating otherwise."

Cass held her gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable as he assessed her words. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, as if he hadn't expected her to push back so forcefully.

"I wasn't trying to judge you," he said finally, his tone calm but tinged with a hint of frustration. "I was just trying to offer support."

"Support?" she shook her head and then looked at Andy. "What the hell is..."

"What?" Andy asked.

Her heart skipped a beat as she watched in horror as a group of shadowy figures descended upon Alexandria, their faces obscured by masks and their movements swift and savage. A wave of panic washed over her as she realized what was happening. Those people were attacking them.

Andy's panic attack struck with full force. His breaths came in shallow gasps, his chest tightening with each passing moment. Charlie's heart clenched with worry as she watched him struggle, the weight of his anxiety palpable in the air.

"Andy?"

"We need to hide. We need to hide," Cass started repeating it while walking around the room.

"Shouldn't we help him?"

"We need to hide."

"Andy, look at me," she urged gently, her voice a steady anchor in the storm of chaos surrounding them. "Focus on your breathing. Cass!"

Charlie's frustration boiled over as she watched him retreat further into his panic. With a steely resolve, she turned her attention back to Andy, determination burning in her eyes.

"You shouldn't have come," Andy said while shaking his head.

"What?"

"You should stay with a boy and a baby," he said. "Now, they're going to die. We're going to die."

The chaos outside, Andy's panic attack, and Cass's insistence on hiding all converged into a tumultuous storm of fear and uncertainty. Charlie felt a surge of panic rising within her own chest. Her breaths came in short gasps, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she struggled to maintain her composure. She couldn't shake the nagging fear that something might happen to them, that they might be caught in the crossfire of the chaos engulfing Alexandria.

Charlie made her way to the kitchen, her footsteps echoing in the empty house. Her heart raced with urgency as she scanned the area, searching for the one thing that could help her protect Maggie, Carl and Judith: kitchen knives.

"Where the hell are all of your knives?!"

"Long gone," Cass said. "Just in case..." he looked at Andy, who was on the floor. "We must hide."

"I must protect my kids!" Charlie screamed.

"Not this time I'm afraid," he answered. "I hope there will be another time."

Her breaths came in short, ragged gasps, her chest tightening with each inhale as if an invisible hand were squeezing the air from her lungs. The room spun around her, the walls closing in as if to suffocate her with their oppressive presence. Images of violence and bloodshed flashed before her eyes, each more terrifying than the last, as her panic spiraled out of control. She sank to her knees, the weight of her fear pressing down on her like a leaden weight. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision as she struggled to make sense of the chaos raging within her.

Then she felt a hit on the back of her head.

The air was thick with the musty scent of earth and concrete, and the walls were made of rough-hewn stone, giving the space the appearance of a bunker. Confusion washed over her as she struggled to piece together what had happened. The memories of her panic attack and the chaos outside flooded back to her in a jumbled rush, leaving her head spinning with disorientation.

Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position, her muscles protesting the movement after their ordeal. She glanced around the room, taking in her surroundings with wary eyes.

"You okay?" Andy asked.

He seemed strangely calm and composed, as if he were untouched by the chaos and confusion that surrounded them. As if he wasn't panicking not so long ago.

"I... I think so," she replied, her words coming out in a hoarse whisper. "Where're we?"

"It's...a special room, Cass created in case of situations like this," Andy said. Her attention turned to Cass, who sat in a corner of the room, his eyes fixed on some distant point in the distance.  "Don't worry about the kids. They're fine. The boy looks like a tough one."

"He is."

"Charlie," the boy said. "I didn't mean to freak you out. I just didn't want you to go through what I have been through."

"What happened?"

She couldn't help but notice a thoughtful expression flicker across his face, as if he were wrestling with some internal dilemma. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that she hadn't seen before, a hint of something hidden beneath the surface.

"I was studying in D.C. when everything broke down. I'm from California," he confessed. "I wanted to get back to my family. I had a younger brother and sister, but it was too crazy out there."

"Were you alone?"

"No...At the beginning, it was me and my roommate. A tough guy," he said. "Which meant nothing for the dead. I was watching him being torn apart and then I was alone for a moment. Until I found Denise and her brother, who...Then we found this place."

"And you never wanted to try to come back home?"

"That was a plan," Andy nodded. "But after seeing what happened to D.C and...everything, do you think there's any home left?"

She could sense the weight of his disappointment, the crushing realization that the world he once knew had been irrevocably changed by the horrors of the apocalypse.

"I'm sorry, Andy," she murmured.

"You feel sorry for me?" he chuckled. "I was out there for two months top. You and Rick, and all those people...You must have went through the hell and back."

"It was hard," she nodded. "Especially when the dead weren't the only one who wanted to kill us."

"You remember your first kill?"

"I do," Charlie nodded. "It was Lori, Carl's and Judith's mom."

Andy's expression became shocked but then softened, a look of sympathy crossing his features as he regarded her with understanding.

"She was giving birth to Judith, and it was either her dead or both of them."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop it," Charlie shook her head.

Charlie offered him a faint smile, grateful for his empathy in the face of her darkest memories.

"Charlie," Andy said. "Please, let us help you. Do this for those kids."

His words resonated with her, stirring up memories of the innocent faces of the children she had grown to care for. She couldn't continue to shoulder the burden alone, couldn't allow her pride and stubbornness to put those she cared about at risk. Nonetheless, she shook her head as if brushing away the thought.

With each step, Charlie pushed herself forward, her resolve growing stronger with every passing moment. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her insides, a sense of foreboding that refused to be ignored.

"Carl?" Charlie called out as she entered the house, her voice echoing through the empty rooms. She scanned the familiar surroundings, her heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. There was a sense of urgency in her voice, a need to find him quickly and ensure that he was safe.

Relief flooded through Charlie as Carl emerged from the shadows, Judith cradled safely in his arms. She hurried over to him, her heart pounding with gratitude and relief at the sight of them both unharmed. "Charlie?"

"Thank goodness you're okay," Charlie exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion as she reached out to take Judith into her own arms. Tears welled up in Charlie's eyes as she held Judith close, the weight of the day's events finally catching up to her. She buried her face in the little girl's soft hair, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she clung to her tightly.

"We're okay, Charlie," Carl said.

She nodded and sobbed, what echoed through the room as she wrapped her arms tightly around Carl, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace. Carl's arms tightened around her, pulling her closer.

"We're fine," he repeated, rubbing her back.

When the gates opened, Charlie's heart sank as she watched Michonne enter Alexandria alone, her usual stoic demeanor tinged with weariness and sorrow. could see the fatigue etched into her features, the weight of her solitary journey evident in the slump of her shoulders.

"Michonne," Charlie called out, her voice tinged with concern as she hurried over to greet her friend. "Are you okay? Where's the others?"

Michonne's expression was grave, a flicker of sadness passing through her eyes.

"Michonne," Charlie said in a firm voice. "Where's Glenn?  Where's Daryl?"

"I... I don't know. We got separated..."

Panic surged through Charlie like a tidal wave, threatening to overwhelm her fragile composure. Her chest tightened, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she struggled to make sense of the devastating news.

"No," she whispered hoarsely, her voice trembling with fear and disbelief. "They can't be... They have to be out there somewhere."

But even as she spoke the words, doubt gnawed at the edges of her mind, a cold, creeping fear that threatened to consume her.

"OPEN THE GATES!"

[biggerbetterbat]

I have prepared a base for 7 chapters of WITH YOU and I’m drained…

P.S I already hate Negan for talking so much, because I have to write it down

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [10] THEN

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: Charlie’s having doubts about Alexandria and it’s worthy. A big news change her perspective and plans.

Warnings: none?

Words: 2.597

A/N: I really like this chapter, even though it’s short.

"Take care of my daughter," Rick said as he touched the cheek of his daughter.

"I will."

"Listen," "Alexandria isn't like everywhere else we've been. It's a place where we can build something better, something worth fighting for."

Charlie turned her eyes away from him.

"They're good people, Charlie," Rick tried again. "Lost...but good."

With a sigh, she met Rick's gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of doubt and hope. "I want to believe you," she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "But it's not that easy."

"I know," he nodded. "Just...give it a try, while we're gone. You can't go through life not trusting anyone."

"I trusted you."

"Exactly," he smiled. "So do it one more time."

earlier…

As Charlie made her way to the infirmary, her steps slow, she couldn't shake the weight of guilt that hung heavy on her shoulders. The memory of her violent outburst against Gabriel weighed heavily above her.

She pushed open the door still looking at her covered in blood arm.

"Is there someone who could treat this?" Charlie asked.

Once she entered the room, she was greeted by a bunch of people who shouldn't be there. Glenn covered in dirt and blood, Nickolas who looked as bad as her best friend. Worried Rosita. However, there was no sight of Peter or Denise. There was even woken up and conscious Tara.

"Oh, God," she gasped. Charlie's heart skipped a beat as she watched her friend's eyelids flutter open, the faintest glimmer of consciousness returning to her gaze. "I was so worried about you."

Tara returned the embrace with a weak but heartfelt squeeze, her gratitude shining through despite the pain that still lingered in her eyes. "I'm okay."

"Eugene," Tara said, while looking behind her, signing that the man entered the room. "Nothing happened to your hair...Okay. You're freaking me out," she said as the man smiled and Charlie had to admit that it was a scary picture. "Somebody want to send Noah in here to protect me?"

Her smile faltered, replaced by a solemn expression as she struggled to contain her emotions.

"What?" Tara asked with a visible tension in her voice.

Trying to push aside her sadness, Charlie cleared her throat and changed the subject, her voice barely above a whisper. "Could someone take care of it?" she asked, gesturing towards her bruised arm.

Once Charlie left the building, after long moments with Tara, the cool night air embraced her like a familiar friend, offering a moment of respite from the chaos that still lingered within the walls of Alexandria. As she glanced around, her eyes landed on Sasha, standing alone in the darkness, her silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. Sasha had always been a solitary figure, her grief and pain a silent burden she carried with her wherever she went.

"Sash!" Charlie called.

The girl turned to face her.

"Tara is awake."

"That's good to hear," Sasha replied, her tone subdued but genuine. "Oh, God...that's so good to hear."

"You should visit her."

"Isn't she asleep?"

"Oh, I think she's had enough sleeping," Charlie smiled.

Sasha chuckled and nodded her head, before she made her way towards the infirmary, Charlie fell into step beside her. On their way, on the stairs to one of the buildings, Abraham's rugged frame lay there motionless. As Sasha and Charlie approached, he met their gaze with a small, knowing smile, his eyes filled with a sense of quiet resolve. Without a word, Abraham raised his hand, two fingers forming a peace sign as he held their gaze.

"Go," Charlie said. "I'll take care of him."

With a sense of camaraderie and trust that transcended words, she settled beside him, their shoulders brushing against each other in silent solidarity. Beside her, Abraham sat in silent contemplation, his expression unreadable but filled with a quiet determination that echoed her own.

"It was a hard night."

"Damn sure it was," Abraham nodded. "What happened tonight... it triggered something in me. Something I've been trying to forget for a long time."

Charlie just sat there, she knew all too well the scars that a person could suffer, the memories that haunted them long after the fighting had ended.

"Reg and Peter...He was right next to me, you know?" Abraham said. "His face blowing up like Pompei...I think I have his brains in my ear..." he chuckled.

Feeling the weight of Abraham's pain pressing upon her, Charlie leaned closer, her presence a silent anchor in the storm raging within him. With a gentle touch, she rested her hand on his back, offering a wordless gesture of comfort and solidarity.

As another day dawned over Alexandria, Charlie found herself standing alongside Daryl, their silhouettes framed by the soft morning light filtering through the windows of Deanna's workroom. Leaning against the wall, they awaited the start of a community meeting - after Heath, a man from supply group, came back.

Memories of a similar gathering back on the farm flooded her mind. The one, when they were deciding whether to kill Randall or let him live. She couldn't help but think of Dale, who had once guided them through the trials and tribulations of their early days together. Quickly, she shook hear head, before she could bring back the picture of his death.

"My team, we saw it early on," Heath said. "Back when we were on one of those first scouts, finding out what was around here. There was a camp at the bottom. The people, they must have blocked the exit with one of those trucks back when everything started to go bad," he tried to recall the picture. "They didn't make it. They were all roamers. Maybe a dozen of them."

"No one's been back since?" Maggie furrowed her eyebrows.

"D.C." Heath shrugged. "Every town worth scavenging, they're all in the other direction. And I never really felt like having a picnic next to the camp that ate itself."

"So, all the while, the walkers have been drawn by the sound, and they're making more sound, and they're drawing more in." Michonne concluded.

"And here we are," Rick spread his arms. "Now, what I'm proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping the walkers in could go off the edge any day now," he said. "Maybe after one more hard rain. That exit sends them east. All of them. Right at us. This isn't about if it gives, it's when."

"This is terrifying," Carol said. "But it doesn't sounds like there's any other way."

"Couldn't we build up the weak spots?" asked man whose name she couldn't even bother to learn. "I can draw, I worked with Reg."

"It's about the sound," Charlie rolled her eyes. "Building up the exits won't change that."

"We're gonna do what Rick says," Deanna said, ignoring the doubts of her people. "The plan is laid out."

"We're gonna have Daryl leading them away."

She furrowed her eyebrows, her mind swirling with doubts and fears about giving Daryl such dangerous task. While she admired his strength and resilience, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this task was gambling with fate. Before she could protest, another voice broke the silence.

"Me, too," Sasha said. "I'll take a car, ride next to him."

"I'll go with her," Abraham said. "It's a long way to white-knuckle it solo."

"All right. We'll have two teams," Rick announced. "One on each side of the forest helping manage this thing. We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer, Holly. They're out. So, who's in?"

"Me," Michonne said.

"I'm in," Glenn nodded.

"I'd like to help as well," Gabe proposed.

"No," Rick cut it short. "Who else?"

Rick's gaze fell upon Charlie, a silent plea for help reflected in his eyes. "We can't control that many," she said finally.

"I said it before," Rick answered. "Walkers herd up. They'll follow a path if something's drawing them."

"I know how it works, Rick," she said annoyed that he was explaining something like this to her.

"Great, then you should know it's the only way."

"I'm out," Charlie said.

"What?"

"You heard me," she said. "I don't care about any of those people or this place. We should leave them to deal with their shit."

"Enough!" Deanna stopped any further bickering.

With a heavy sigh and a furrowed brow, Charlie's frustration with Rick reached its boiling point. She had tried to reason with him, to make him see the potential dangers of their plan, but he had remained stubbornly set in his ways. Unable to contain her annoyance any longer, Charlie made a snap decision. Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked out of the house, her footsteps echoing loudly in the silence of the room.

Alone with her thoughts, Charlie allowed herself a moment of quiet reflection. With a heavy sigh, she leaned back against the railing, her gaze drifting upwards towards the clear sky. She knew that she couldn't continue to stand by and watch as her friends put themselves in danger, but she also understood the importance of finding a way to work together towards a solution. She had been frustrated with Rick's decisions, so she couldn't deny the sense of relief that washed over her at the sight of Daryl's familiar face instead of his.

Without a word, he settled onto the stairs beside her.

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their shared worries hanging heavy in the air between them.

“I won’t change my mind,” Charlie announced.

“I know,” he nodded and bit his lip.

“I’m surprised you agreed to it,” she said. “Rick's plan is too risky. We need to find another way."

Daryl nodded in understanding, his expression somber. "I get where you're comin' from, Charlie," he replied quietly. "But we gotta trust Rick.”

“I trust Rick,” Charlie snapped. “More than anyone. I was the first person who trusted him and blindly followed him, when everyone was blaming him, remember?” Charlie looked at Daryl, but his glance was still away. “But those people? I couldn’t care less,” she stopped to point at Deanna’s house. “They lived for two years in a comfort. They should have taken care of that camp when the camp was a small group not a whole herd. They brought it on themselves, because they’re stupid and now, they want is to take care of this and risk our lives!”

“So? This place can be our fina stop, Charlie,” he said. “You want to run through life? Not looking around? Without looking for something worth fighting for?”

"I think we should leave this place," she stated firmly, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “I hate it here. It brought us nothing but problems.”

"I hear ya, but we gotta stick together," he said, his tone pleading. "We can't afford to be divided right now."

Charlie's jaw clenched as she weighed Daryl's words. "You can't be serious," she exclaimed, her voice tinged with frustration. “You wanted to leave!”

“I’m trying to protect what’s left of us,” Daryl said.

“You hate this place,” she protested.

"I'm tryin' to do what's right for our group, whether you like it or not."

"Fine," she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain. "You stay here and play hero if you want. But I'm not sticking around to watch this place fall apart."

“Charlie, wait!”

“No!” she stopped and looked at him. “You will recall my words one day.”

The air was charged with tension and anticipation, each member of the group steeling themselves for the challenges that lay ahead. With a heavy sigh, she watched as her friends gathered their supplies and prepared to depart. Charlie felt a hand gently rest on her shoulder, and she turned to find Glenn standing beside her, his expression a mix of concern and understanding.

“So you stay behind?” Glenn asked.

She shrugged.

“I don’t judge you,” he said. “Actually…I’m happy. You and Maggie away from the danger.”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“Listen, I know you will be taking care of Carl and Judith, but…” he said and Charlie looked at him. “Could you have a look at someone else?”

“Who?”

“Maggie.”

As Glenn's request lingered in her mind, Charlie couldn't help but feel a surge of confusion washing over her. Why would Glenn want her to look after Maggie while he was gone? Wasn't she more than capable of taking care of herself?

“Maggie?”

“She’s…We’re having a baby,” he said while running fingers through his hair.

As Glenn's words hung in the air, Charlie felt the world around her shift on its axis. Pregnant? The word echoed in her mind, sending shockwaves of disbelief coursing through her veins. She struggled to process the magnitude of what Glenn had just revealed, her thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of confusion and concern.

"Are you serious?" she finally managed to stammer, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you angry?” he asked. He couldn’t read her expression and the thought gnawed at him, filling him with a sense of unease as he struggled to understand her reaction.

“Are you crazy?!” she called. With that, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, her embrace filled with warmth and reassurance. “I’m so happy for you. Congratulations. You're going to be an amazing dad."

They held each other close. In the comfort of their embrace, the worries and uncertainties of the world outside faded into the background, replaced by a quiet sense of peace. Charlie closed her eye, trying to remember the feeling of his embrace. And he did the same, pulled her closer to feel her closer to his body. As they finally pulled away from each other, a sense of gratitude filled the air between them. In Charlie's embrace, Glenn had found solace, a reminder that no matter what challenges they faced, they would always have each other to lean on.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m just glad I can finally tell you.”

“Does anyone know?”

“We didn't want to worry anyone until we knew for sure."

Charlie's eyes sparkled with excitement as she exclaimed, "I'm going to be an auntie!" Her voice filled with joy and anticipation, her heart brimming with happiness.

"I know," he replied, his voice filled with emotion. "I can't wait to meet him or her. It's going to change everything."

Her gaze lingered on him, taking in the familiar contours of his face, the warmth of his smile, and the unwavering determination that shone in his eyes. With a soft smile and a heart full of gratitude, Charlie reached out to take Glenn's hand in hers, a silent gesture of solidarity and support.

As Charlie's gaze drifted from Glenn, she noticed Maggie standing a short distance away, her eyes filled with warmth and affection as they met Charlie's. A smile tugged at the corners of Maggie's lips as she knew that Glenn shared the news, and Charlie couldn't help but return the gesture.

“Now you have to promise to be back,” Charlie said. “Or you want your baby to be raised by me.”

“Oh, God. Please no,” he groaned, but smiled at her and intertwined their fingers. His thumb caressed her delicate skin. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“Don’t mention,” she waved it off and wanted to move away.

“No,” he strengthened his grip. “Thank you…for being with me. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

In that moment, as she looked at her friend, she understood that leaving Alexandria was out of question ,now, that Glenn was having a baby. She couldn't turn her back on the people who had become her family, nor could she ignore the responsibility she felt towards the new life that was about to enter their world.

In Glenn's eyes, she saw reflected the same sense of duty and determination. He was ready to so everything in his power to create a world for his baby. He didn’t care for those people, he cared for his family. She may have wrestled with doubts and fears, but in the end, her loyalty to her friends and her community outweighed all else.

[biggerbetterbat]

ACT 6: NEW RULES

ACT 6

You were undecided

Between life and past tense

You lost your battle, life was hell

But I was always beside, how can't you tell?

Oh, I thought we'd be together 'til life was over

But you left too soon, now I'm no longer sober

My rock, my friend, we always said

We'd live this life until we made it to the end

So why aren't you right here, right next to me?

You took your life, like fuck, you left me bleeding

I will meet you at the graveyard

Where you lay down, where you stay now

Faced up, cold heart, no longer by my side now

Wish we were together, now I don't know when I will see you