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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 10 months

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Still beating

What - dealing with grief as the dust finally starts to settle. Dealing with grief regarding one specific character's death in particular. You know the one.

Genre - heavier, but we get devoted husband/father Daryl out of the mix. And we don't end the chapter on a bummer, never fear. This ain't a French movie, slowpokes

Relationships - wife Reader and husband Daryl as well as your baby. Familial affection with Rick, and that balance between friend and clergy for Father Gabriel.

Perspective - 3rd POV Daryl, and 2nd POV You

Pronouns - she/her

When - time jump! we've briefly hopped to post season 8, pre season 9 (but before The best kind of damn weird). This chapter takes place during the earlier phases of recovery and rebuilding after the war. The previous chapter, Scary as a sleepy kitten, took place during season 2.

TWs - grief, PTSD (including after SA), depression, self-loathing, and some cussing. This chapter is also kinda lengthy, friends, and had to have exposition. (Might should've sliced the chapter in half, but then we'd have another two-parter on our hands :P)

But how long though? - ...20 minutes or so?

Story references and Masterlist link? - under the cut

And is there a pic at the end as a prize for finishing? - yes :D

Have fun and happy reading!

References to other chapters - what we learned in The Interview. There is also grieving/anger as seen in The first Christmas 'without' Part 2 and its conclusion in I don't hate you, a happy reference to Happy 8th of July!, reference to those lovely tugging strings as found in Invisible Tugging Strings, Part 1 and Part 2 (Part 2 I reckon is still glitched and showing as labeled mature, the poor thing's been cleared about 7ish times via help ticket XD ).

There are a lot more details you might recognize, pop on by to the Official Masterlist here, or for those who prefer linear over non-linear, the Chronological Slowpoke Masterlist here

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Still beating

She was doing real bad. The past few days had been especially bad. Grief has nasty ways of settling in and rearing its ugly head.

He didn’t know too much about what to do to help her, he’d never been good at that stuff. And there was no fixing all that happened, especially not when the last thing that happened was the worst thing that could’ve.

Other than if TJ or Judith died, it was the worst thing. And part of his wife died right alongside Carl.

Hell, she’d been the one to wait after Carl died, then turned, to pull the trigger.

Now, she felt dead, too.

Gabe had to suggest that she check her pulse when it got bad enough.

Just then, TJ started to wriggle and hum in an attempt to root at Daryl's bicep, which pulled him out of his worry for a second.

Gently, he began to bounce to try and keep his baby lulled. He knows Y/N wanted to breastfeed only to get her production up (and so TJ’s suckle could get stronger after the surgery), but Y/N was finally asleep.

Beginning with when Denise was killed, Y/N hadn’t been making as much as she first had. Then, the Saviors stopped the RV and surrounded them, and Negan did what he did. Then Daryl himself got taken away, then there was all the fighting.

And then Carl died.

Getting her milk to come back had been proving damned hard.

A handful of not-very-good times, they’d supplemented what milk she did make with watered-down formula and/or watered-down goat's milk.

One very bad time, they’d used sugar water to fill the babies’ bellies until Jesus got back with goat's milk. Just the one time they had to use sugar water, everybody made damn sure of that.

For now, Daryl could crack into what was still left of the goat's milk in the cooler, right? The two women in the Kingdom who had little guys had sent over actual breast milk with Carol a few days ago, but it was used up yesterday. That stuff had been a God-send, he couldn’t thank the ladies enough.

Between the two babies in Alexandria, TJ and Gracie, everyone had to be smart about using what formula was left. And given that the power got cut, keeping the goat's milk fresh was another problem, hence the cooler.

There was still a shit ton of clean-up had since the Saviors nabbed Alexandria’s storage, then firebombed the town. To make things worse, those assholes had their own compound destroyed, and Hilltop and the Kingdom got screwed, too. Even the beach women took another beating. Hell, and them junkyard people were literally all fucking gone except their leader chick.

So, Y/N breastfed the two babies as much she was physically able because there was no other option right now, all while working as the only other doc left standing in all five communities; she was running herself into the ground.

And with Carl gone…

It ain’t fair that she couldn’t make enough — it was Negan’s goddamned fault.

Which leads to what just went on: so Mich had told him, Y/N’d lashed out at Negan and the new doctor kid with the facial hair, what was his name, Sidney?

Daryl hadn’t been at the infirmary when it happened, but, according to Mich, she’d had to pull her out of the room. Once out, Y/N asked her about TJ, Judith, and Gracie to make sure they were safe, then disappeared after Mich had turned around. Straight up and bolted.

Daryl had checked the escape-closet first, but she wasn’t in there or the attic it connected to, wasn't on the roof that lead to.

He’d then checked the burned church. She’d been there, he recognized her boot prints, but she'd moved on. From there, he was able to follow her sooty tracks in the direction of the place he should’ve known to check first.

Sure enough, Y/N'd been at Carl’s grave.

His wife could barely look at him when he approached. He'd simply kissed her on the head and quietly walked her back home. Once home, he'd cleaned and bandaged her hand while she, again, tried to pump enough for TJ and Gracie.

Mich had told Daryl she’d get Rick for her, so he’d be here soon.

Daryl wracked his brain, he even prayed to learn what do to try to help carry Y/N through this shit.

At first, Y/N’d been pacing around the room, crying but trying not to, arms wrapped around her picture frame with a photo of Carl in it as if it was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He'd been able to persuade her to lay down, and ended up laying in bed with her and holding her tight, TJ next to them in little bassinet.

Initially, him holding her and pressing kisses to her neck had made her feel worse. More guilty, that is. A handful of days ago, something got into her head that she needed to give him a damn "annulment."

Nah, for real, she’d even said (to Gabe) that the two of them not having ever done the deed yet was "grounds" to give him one. “Grounds to free him,” were her exact words. It was a whole thing, and the couple of failed attempts at trying to do the deed after getting hitched some months back probably made her feel worse.

Father Gabriel had Daryl's back the whole time during the conversation, though, decent dude.

And no, Daryl wasn’t angry or even real hurt that she’d thought she had to ‘free him’ and shit, he knows it was the grief and physical exhaustion that got her to that point. His woman had full-on blacked out and hurt herself that day, which is why he'd brought her to Gabe in the first place.

But the, um, the walls were thinner than Daryl had expected, which is how he overheard from the person that he was gonna love and stay with and stay faithful to until he dropped dead softly confess that she was “selfish” to keep him “stuck” with a “batshit m-mess” like her and “a baby that ain’t his.”

The fact that Y/N kept maintaining how much she loved him and how she didn’t want no annulment helped it hurt less when she’d sounded just about convinced that it was “loyalty to me ’cause we’re close, loyalty to Rick,” and because of “he’s got so much shame. He feels responsible for what the Claimers did,” that made him marry her those months ago. "He loves our ch—my child, and might love me, but it's not fair to him. He deserves better, h-he needs better, the man's been trapped all his life. I-I don't want him trapped, I want him happy!"

Gabe never played into her fears. He been no nonsense about all of it, told Y/N that she needed a damn rest, and asked her to tell him what she thought about it when she woke up.

The good thing was that after a 5 hour period of uninterrupted sleep (during which they used some of the goat's milk for TJ and Gracie), she woke up in a daze at why she’d thought an annulment was something Daryl needed or wanted.

The bad thing was, she was then socked in the gut with more unearned guilt for it, then with worry that she was too far gone, or crazy, all that.

Been a bad, bad few days.

Been a lot of Daryl showing her love that she felt not worth being shown. So that she fell asleep in his arms today was such a damn win!

After getting up to take a leak and finding that Y/N was miraculously still asleep, he thanked whoever was up there, then tried to figure out what else he could do to help her get through today…and right at that moment, TJ started to rouse, so he got his answer: keep their baby comforted. More shut-eye could only do his woman well.

Deftly lifting the little bundle into his arms, he'd kissed the scar above the baby’s upper lip and tiptoed out to the hall, where he was now.

Lightly he bounced, softly he shushed. He held TJ like a football and moved back and forth, back and forth. Babies smell so damn good, and make the cutest damn noises!

After a couple minutes, through the open door, he peeked at his Y/N.

Shit. She was already sitting up and blinking off the sleep.

Whatever it was she did and said today, she felt low as hell about it, that much was clear. Without looking, she grabbed the now-broken picture frame and clutched it to her middle.

"You're supposed to be asleep, slowpoke," he tried to tease.

Her clothes had ashes from where it looked like she’d knelt down then sat down in the burned church. There was some dirt on them, too, from when she’d been at Carl’s grave. Daryl made a note to shake the sheets out later and pick the tissues up off the floor.

That's when the front door opened downstairs.

Was that Ri—good, that was Rick’s voice, he was finally there. There was a second voice, too, was that Father Gabriel’s? It was soft like Gabe's voice was.

Daryl looked downstairs.

Yup, it was Rick with the rev.

He waved them upstairs, but it must’ve been the clunking of the Gabriel’s new cane that got Y/N stumbling out of the room.

“Rev! I would’ve come to you, y-you need to be takin’ it easy.” She hugged the picture frame in one hand, gripped the banister in the other and started to go downstairs, asking Gabe how he felt, urging him to sit down, had his vision worsened, all that stuff.

“Y/N, more rest won’t stop me from losing sight in this eye,” Gabriel responded in his quiet way, remaining on the second step, not going up or down the stairs. He smiled. “You could say I’m the one making a house call to a patient this time."

She held back a sob and bowed her head. Then, she subtly slipped two fingers around the inside of her wrist…

Rick stepped the rest of the way up the stairs and put his hands on her shoulders. “What's going on, weirdo?”

“Ricky, I'm s-sorry."

He leaned closer and took her in for a hug. “Heart still beating?” he murmured.

Her inhale was shaky. “Mmhm. Yours?”

“Beating strong.”

TJ perked up and began to whimper upon hearing her voice. Y/N unzipped her hoodie to—she still had a gun on her?

Okay, that'd been stealth as fuck, it hadn't even been printing. He'd been literally holding her, how had he not noticed?

Daryl shared a glance with Gabe. Minus her screwdriver, she'd turned in her weapons after what happened the other day.

Y/N handed the small gun to Rick, who looked wary, but accepted it without question. She hesitated before reaching into her boot to hand over her screwdriver, too.

Daryl slid his hand around his wife’s waist to guide her back to the room. Without looking him in the eyes, she cupped his cheek and told him he was a good father. Then, frame still gripped under one arm, she took the baby into the other.

“Let’s try havin’ a snack before I go with Uncle Ricky awhile, okay, chickpea?” she murmured, then unbuttoned the top of her shirt.

Daryl took off his vest to give her some more coverage. When he draped the vest around her, she turned her head to kiss his hand. He felt his cheeks warm when she did that.

Walking into the room again, she softly told Daryl that he and Rick could sit on the beds. First, she placed the picture frame on one of the mattresses. Next, she took TJ and went beside the end table at the window to sit down on the floor beside it. The way she sat, it was kinda as if she were using it as a shield.

“Rev, please take the chair,” she mumbled to Gabriel with a glance at the only piece of furniture in the room at the time, other than the bassinet, a nightstand, and the end table. Negan had specifically left the rocking chair as a 'gift' for her. The piece of shit...

Anyway, Daryl had got them their two twin mattresses back (hey, squish them together and you get a big-ass bed) the first trip to and from the Savior’s compound after the war ended, once the Alexandrians had begun to move back from the Hilltop. Only, no bed frames yet.

“And sweetheart, I’ll-I’ll take the pumps with me for while I’m in there. Wanna make sure you and Aaron have enough for them,” she said to him, voice still raw. Y/N turned to him and gave him a wobbly smile. “Sorry I used up so much of the tissue supply,” she tried making light, but got close to tears again, so stumbled through asking “Can I, um, Rick, m-might can I bring my pillow? Is that okay?”

Go with Rick where, and take the breast pumps and her pillow, why? He made eye contact with Gabriel, who looked just as puzzled. So, he turned to Rick.

Rick lowered his eyebrows as if he didn’t know what she meant, either. He squatted to sit down on the mattress beside Daryl, and looked at his sister. “Y/N, where are we headed?”

Glancing up from the baby to him then to Daryl, she adjusted TJ’s position on her breast while she figured out how to answer, by the looks of it. Another glance at her husband as if she were worried about his reaction...

“Rick, I thought you was here to…escort me?”

Daryl had no clear idea what she meant, it was the rev who understood first.

“No,” Father Gabriel told her gently. “Y/N, you aren’t under arrest.”

Under arrest? Daryl fought between the urge to get angry or dead-ass laugh. 'Under arrest??'

It was for real, though. His wife’s tears started flowing again as she turned her attention to Rick and began to stress, “There can’t be no special treatment—”

“—Is this why you handed me your weapons? Why would you be under arrest?” Rick cut her off to question.

She stared as if he’d grown antlers. “I s-struck a patient, and, and—”

“—And I slit his throat open, which is why that 'patient' is in there in the first place,” he cut her off again, firm.

Thankfully, TJ let out a wail the same time mama wailed, “Ricky, y-you weren’t his medic!” pausing any further arguing.

Y/N gulped, pressed down on one breast, then the other. “I know there’s not much in ’em, Teddy-bear, but it-it’ll get better. It’ll come back,” she shushed, lifting him up and tucking herself back in. With a few kisses, she shushed, “You’ve gotten so much faster at drinking, babycakes”

Daryl got on the floor with her and took TJ back.

She avoided eye-contact again, and her lip wobbled again as she pulled the top of her shirt higher. That told him there’d been not much milk in there. And he could see all over her face that it was switching her on the legs with more false-ass, unearned guilt.

The familiar string in his chest suddenly tugged in her direction—next thing, he was resting his forehead on hers. “Hey. You’re makin’ more every day, angel,” he whispered in her ear. "And you're a damn good ma."

The way her expression softened and her body relaxed toward his felt better than fireworks going off on the Fourth 8th of July.

And as if he were back in that Georgia-in-July heat, Daryl just about melted right there on the floor when he saw his TJ, neck lifted high, making a face-scrunching, gummy smile at him. "Look how strong your neck is getting, ’lil badass, you’re rockin’ it!”

Shit, their kid was the best damn thing.

Y/N leaned against him and reached to lightly fluff their baby’s hair and rub their baby's teeny feet.

Gabriel sat in the rocking chair quietly, hands resting on his cane. He caught eyes with Daryl and nodded his head toward Y/N, glad to see her no longer convinced she needed to ‘free’ her husband.

Absorbed in the photo, Rick exhaled, then spoke up. “Y/N, how about we start from the beginning? What happened at the infirmary?”

She pressed tighter against Daryl as a pained noise left her throat. “Did you talk to Siddiq yet?” sounded very small.

“I want to talk to both of you.”

“And Michonne?”

He nodded. “She told me some.”

The big watch she’d kept from Dale tick-tick-ticked on her wrist. Then came the sound of light metallic clinking. Daryl didn’t have to look to see that she must’ve pulled out her brother’s necklace and was tugging on it.

“What I did ain’t excusable,” came out raspy and thick.

“It is," Rick answered.

“It’s not, especially not what I said to Sid—” a sob choked her response. She used Daryl's leather vest to hide her face before hugging it around herself like a blanket.

“Walk me through what happened first, kiddo, before you hit Negan with this?” Rick subtly gestured to the broken picture frame.

So she had smacked Negan in the face? Hot damn, Daryl was more in love with her already.

Y/N swallowed and shook her head. “They’d been lookin’ at it, the both of 'em.”

“At the picture?”

A tiny nod. “I’d left the room, and when I got back, they was looking at it. Siddiq brought it over to him. Tried to make like Negan was sad, too. Fuck that!”

TJ started rooting on his bicep again, but Daryl was on it. “Sorry, pipsqueak, I don’t got the right parts for that.” He started to massage the baby’s belly, and TJ quieted.

“It’s okay to let ’em cry a little, it-it helps restock these,” his wife tried joking, nodding down at her chest.

“Y/N.” Rick was delicate about coaxing her for more details. “You got back into the room, Siddiq and Negan were looking at the picture.”

“Negan’s filthy hands were on it,” she grit. "Lookin' at Carl and me, you with Shaney." The sounds of the pendant being pulled across the chain filled the room along with TJ’s soft cooing.

“Is that when you hit him with the frame?” Rick asked.

“No. I told him not to look at it again or touch it, and if he did, I’d hurt him.”

“Angel, slow your breathin’,” Daryl interjected at the same time that he figured out why those words sounded familiar: it was similar to how she'd warned the last Claimer fuckhead, the one who’d had Carl pinned down and was gon——Daryl shut down this brain for a sec, it was best not to think about that night.

He turned his head to see Rick, red-eyed, tracing his thumb along the photo of Carl, Y/N, Shane and him. Seems as if Rick had recognized her words, too.

“And when was it that you did hurt him?” Rick pressed on.

Y/N swallowed. “About half a minute later when he tried to act like it wasn’t his fault.”

Rick’s composure staggered and collapsed. His voice was hoarse when he managed to say, “It’s not his fault.”

But Y/N was fast to shut it down. “Don’t for one more second make like it’s yours, Ricky, you get that monkey off your back,” she comforted and somehow scolded both at once. “Negan was doing what Negan does when he, when he told you that. It was manipulation, nothin’ real. How C-Carl—” another choked-down sob, more tears.

Daryl noticed her press her fingertips to the spot under her chin, beside her jaw, checking her pulse to prove it was still beating.

“Negan had nothing to do with how Carl got bit,” Rick whispered. “You know it’s true, kiddo.”

“No—our boy wouldna ended up out there, w-with-with Siddiq, if it hadn’t been for Negan.” Her tone got louder and angry, her stress stutter became more noticeable, the way she tugged the necklace turned rougher. “He and his followers was why we weren’t able to trust no n-newcomers like Sid, which is why Sid was still out there alone, and, and, and why Carl went to him! It, it was because of Negan and his, and his, his-his cult!”

TJ seemed freaked out by the louder voice, the baby’s dark, blue-black eyes grown big.

Daryl spoke Y/N’s name to try and bring her back to herself, but she seemed to have very suddenly calmed.

She was blinking at her hand.

Daryl looked, and then saw the two halves of her brother Shane’s chain, broken.

“How many times did Carol warn me that this would happen when I tugged it,” she muttered to herself. "Good thing I didn't decide to tug on the rosary, huh?"

Inhaling, she leaned her head against the wall behind her, staring into space, fingers to her wrist to check her pulse again.

From beside her, he covered her hand in his. Then, pressing his lips to her fist, Daryl took the necklace from it. He could fix it.

“I lost my temper again, I’m sorry,” she spoke to all in the room, her hand cupping Daryl's cheek a moment. Then, more quietly, she looked at Rick. “How many days’ll I be in there?”

Which sent Daryl straight back to disbelief he was hearing those words, what absolute bullshit. “Y/N, you ain’t going nowhere.”

“You’re not going to a cell, Y/N,” Rick echoed.

“No special treatment,” she softly repeated. “If I were anybody else—”

Rick interrupted her “—It’s not about who you are.”

Father Gabriel had gotten up and was making his way to Y/N by then.

Y/N shook her head at the conversation, tired. “If I were anybody else or had any other orle, and if he were anybody else,” she caught her breath, “there’d be reper-re-rep—” a few more tries, and she had to choose a different word, “consequences. Assault and battery on an un-unarmed person—a patient—from their medical provider, that’s serious.” Her hand was back to covering her face. She sat pressed against the wall, knees at her chest.

“You and Siddiq are the only doctors left. We couldn’t just put you in a cell even if you had earned it.”

“I ain't a doctor, at best, I’m a medic,” she grunted. “And I did earn it, just ask him and Michonne. As for my,” she made a shaky inhale, “my duties, I can be escorted out.”

“And TJ? Gracie?” Daryl put out there, hoping to guilt her out of insisting she get jail time, like, what the fuck. What kind of conversation was this?

Screw this, he couldn't even sit. He stood, shaking his head and pacing around the room, still holding TJ.

The expression on Y/N's face should’ve been enough to calm him down, along the defeated, quiet way she reasoned, “I’ll pump and y’all will visit. It’s—no, sweetheart—it’s only for a few days,” when he started to dead-ass leave. As if her being in there ‘only for a few days’ would help this bullshit make sense.

But that’s when he ended up snapping, “This is goddamn bullshit! You bopped a sick fuck on the nose with a picture frame, who the fuck will care? Rick, why you even entertainin' this shit?” and he regretted doing so as soon as he barked it out.

The old, invisible knee rammed him in the nards harder when Rick cautioned, "Brother," and Gabe finally opened his mouth, and louder than Daryl had ever heard him speak. “She cares, Daryl. So do I.”

And to make it all worse, their baby had given a start in fear when he’d shouted, and now the poor kid was screaming—and TJ doesn’t scream, shit, shit, he blew up while holding his child?

“M’sorry! M’sorry," he hushed to his baby, "I love you so much, kid, I’m so sorry I scared ya. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” With a kiss on TJ’s wild head of hair, he murmured, “Pipsqueak, your old man is an idiot.”

Y/N rushed over when TJ screamed, but she didn’t take the baby away from Daryl. Instead, she caressed her husband’s forearm and the tricep and spoke to their child. “Your daddy’s got you safe,” she soothed.

He knew she was trying to look him in the eyes, but he couldn’t return it. He’d just scared an infant because he couldn’t check his temper. Their infant.

His wife’s quiet assurance cut through the rushing in his head. “Daryl? TJ ain’t hurt, sugar, and you’re not a bad father. Do some skin to skin, okay?” She pecked a kiss on his cheek. “And that's a dollar for cussing, pay up later.”

She then sat back down on the floor next to where the rev had made his new seat. Daryl took the now-empty rocking chair, unbuttoned his and TJ’s shirts, then nestled the kid on his chest.

Y/N then told the room the rest of what happened, how after Negan croaked out with what voice he had left, saying it 'wasn’t his fault Carl was dead', that she’d turned around and whacked him across the face with the frame.

Siddiq had reacted by grabbing her shoulders from behind to pull her away from Negan — so she had shoved back and kneed him in the dick plus rammed her head against his, dropping the frame in the process. The frame broke as a result—and when it broke, she'd lost her cool, said some shit, and threw some shit. Mich heard the hubbub and intervened, then Y/N hid herself away cause she 'knew' she was 'gone crazy.'

As far as Daryl was concerned, the new doc was lucky all he got was a shove, a knee to jewels, a clunk on the head, and some words and maybe a clipboard thrown at him, because Y/N could fight damned well. She'd had it drilled into her how and when to do it. Freely taught others moves, too.

When she’d showed Carol some techniques, way back, it was one of the things that sent him falling for her.

And…Y/N might’ve not said it out loud, but when she described how Siddiq grabbed her from behind to pull her away, everyone in that room got why it caused her to react strong.

What she described herself as doing would’ve been instinct.

Siddiq wouldn’t know why. Negan might, the fucker had watched the tape of her Deanna interview.

“See?” Y/N blew her nose again, sniffed, and stared at the floorboards. “It’s not right to Sid or the community to, to have what I did go unchecked. And what I said to Siddiq was so cruel. What’s worse is I meant it. Fuck, I still do.”

What she'd said was basically that she wished he’d gotten bit instead of Carl, and that it was just as much Siddiq's fault that the boy was dead as it was Negan’s. That 'he should be dead.'

She grimaced, then caressed the watch on her wrist. Must’ve been thinking of Dale. “Ain’t fair to…Negan, neither. If there’s anything Carl taught us, it’s that,” she whispered.

Rick lifted the frame to kiss his son’s picture, wiped a couple tears away. “When I talked with Sid, he was…alarmed. Worried. He thought it was off-character.”

Y/N went rigid where she sat. “Siddiq wasn’t there two years ago.”

Daryl lifted the baby higher on his chest and snuggled closer.

Rick shook his head. “You wishing someone dead, or, dead instead of another, is very off-character, it’s not you. No—don’t shake your head, Y/N.” Her brother maintained, “Even back then, after what happened, you didn’t wish me dead. You wished that Shane was still alive, not that I was dead instead. Even if you did say those things, it wouldn't have been the truth, just the hurt speaking.”

“I attacked you and told you I would kill you. And I-I meant it at the time, you know that.”

“And for a couple days, you left, because you didn’t actually want that. You knew it was wrong.”

“Which is why I need to get put away for a couple days. I decided to hurt a patient and his doctor, my own fr—” She wasn’t able to say what was probably the word ‘friend.’ Y/N bit her lip, and continued, “Then hurled words at him what nobody should get hurled at them.” She swallowed a cuss and grabbed another tissue.

“You’re exhausted, Siddiq knows that.” Rick pointed out. “We’re not ourselves when we’re—”

Y/N wasn’t having it. Probably too exhausted, to tell the truth.

“We’re all exhausted. C’mon, man, you just lost your son!” A sob left her and she tried to breathe through her nose. Checked her pulse again.

“You were also reacting to how he yanked you back, kiddo. That's not nothing.”

Daryl gave Rick a warning glance.

Rick saw, nodded, and held up a hand, which made Y/N turn to see what Daryl was doing. But Daryl simply kissed TJ on the head, not saying nothing.

She wasn’t fooled. When Y/N looked back at Rick after giving her husband a look of it’s okay, Daryl gave Rick another warning glare, then a nod.

“You didn’t react like that without reason, Y/N. There’s no shame to admit it was a trigger.”

She grumbled at the word. “Trauma ain’t an excuse to traumatize others.” After exhaling, she ran her hands over her face and took a moment. Hardly louder than a whisper, she challenged, “Ricky, not all my problems stem from the rapes. I’ve always been too hot-headed.”

At that moment, Daryl wanted to scoop her and TJ up and drive them away from everything, keep the two of them safe and unbothered for a month or two or four.

“Getting grabbed like that m-might, y’know, might could’ve reminded me of it—when they—" She ran a hand through her hair. "Okay, it did get me going. But, I,” she paused. “It wasn’t that I saw red or blacked out, I chose to keep goin’ once I’d started. I threw stuff because I was raging, I didn't want to stop because I thought he deserved it.”

Y/N fiddled with Dale’s watch, and turned to Father Gabriel beside her and almost smiled at him, close to the way she used to smile at Glenn, as if he were in on a joke. “Here I’d hoped I was re-domesticated by now.”

“Let us give thanks that you’re still housebroken,” he responded, taking Daryl by surprise. "You're...still housebroken, are you not?"

The way Y/N then cracked up and grinned woke up the butterflies in his stomach.

“Y/N, you’ve come miles since I first met you,” Gabriel told her softly, smiling back.

“All the way from Georgia,” she joked back, then grew more serious. “You’ve grown a whole lot, too.” She wiped her eyes, and Gabe closed his.

“And Y/N,” he shook his head. “You aren’t losing your humanity. I know you’re frightened of that, after what you told me happened to your other brother.”

It hadn’t even registered in Daryl’s mind that Shane’s memory would be scaring her. She loved her brother like hell, but she was always terrified of going down the same path he did.

He looked to Rick to see what his reaction was. His reaction was tear-rimmed eyes and a nod of his head toward TJ, silently asking if he could hold the baby awhile. Daryl nodded, Rick stood, and returned Y/N the frame as he walked by to pick up the little one.

Hands empty, Daryl took out his army knife and the broken chain from his pocket so he could fix his woman’s necklace. Wasn’t gonna be hard.

He heard Y/N whisper, “Hey, punk. Miss you. Miss you, too, loser.” He let his eyes travel to where she sat under the window, and watched her kiss the picture and well up. It was the old one of her and preschool-age Carl photobombing Rick and Shane, after one of them got some kind of cop award.

Clutching it once more to her belly, she and Father Gabriel then started to talk in low voices with one another.

“The red haze in your right sclera is so close to begin' clear. Did you talk to Rosie today? She’s been seeming less depressed.”

“I thought this was me visiting my patient, not the other way around,” Gabe gently hinted. “Y/N, please talk to me.”

Daryl heard her sniffle. “Rev, but I don’t want to have meant those words. I’ve been workin’ on it. It-it might be his fault, but I know he’s innocent, he’s humane—Sid even counts walkers like I do, man, yet still, I—” her breathing shuddered. “After whatever this mess is kicked in, every time I see him now, I hate him. Why do I hate a decent person?”

“Grief,” he offered simply. He gave her another shrug and small smile. “Keep doing what you have been. It will get easier every day, the same way your, um,” he was careful about his wording regarding her tits, “that you have more for the little ones every day.”

She huffed but didn’t raise her voice again, she stayed quiet as could be. “It don’t feel like none of that’s happening.”

“Our perception of things doesn’t always equal the truth, Y/N.” Gabe seemed to take a moment. Maybe he was praying.

Y/N’s fingers found her pulse again.

“We are all healing,” Gabriel next said, and smiled again. “Your heart is still beating, is it not?”

Y/N stared for a few moments, caught in the act. Eyes meeting Daryl’s for a moments, she removed her fingers from her neck, and inclined her head at the reverend. “What about yours?” she asked softly.

“Still beating. And that’s the proof,” he assured her just as softly. “Y/N, as for the way you understand your actions and your emotions toward him as not being right, I would like you to take it as a comforting sign. And, you just handed over a weapon you plainly wanted to keep concealed, you didn’t use said weapon to hurt Negan, either,” he pointed out, for which Daryl was grateful. “Perhaps, if you begin to make excuses, begin to feel no sense of having done wrong when you have, I will worry.”

Weirdly enough, he next grinned up at the ceiling. “But I am not, because you are simply broken and in need of healing. You’ll get there, as will I,” he held his hand out to the room. “As will your brother, your husband. All of us.” He sighed. “So long as our hearts are still beating.”

Daryl looked back at his wife in time to see her bit her wobbling lip and nod. Her gaze turned to Rick with the baby. He was kissing TJ’s scrawny little feet.

Her face softened seeing them, and as Daryl’s stomach fluttered again, she turned to look at him. His stomach full-on did a happy flip (and, yeah, he lost his grip on the necklace’s broken link and dropped it).

Y/N said to Rick, “Well, we still need to show ’em that Alexandria—that you—are accountable and fair. How many nights will do, you think?”

Rick shook his head. “Zero. But, because you have a point and won't take 'zero' as an answer,” he quickly added, “how about one?”

“For a piggy, you’re actin’ awful chicken.”

He was unmoved by the cop joke. “Bawk, bawk.”

And Y/N laughed, for what it was worth. And it was worth everything, hot damn was that laugh the best sound.

Daryl figured he might as well check, “What about bail, that still a thing?”

“Not with you owing a whole dollar. That’ll take weeks to pay off,” she said, back to doing her best to lighten up things. He loved her so fucking much, goddamn.

“Supervision when outside the cell,” she stated to Rick.

He shook his head again. “I have a better sentence in mind. When I saw you wearing Lori’s belt earlier today, it reminded me of it. See, and you left this at the infirmary.” He reached into his jacket pocket.

Recognition swept across her face when he held it out. “Do you think he’ll feel safe?”

“The headphone cord is too thin to choke him with, it’d snap.”

“Ricky, that joke was very dark,” she lightly chided.

He squinted, kissing TJ’s feet one more time first. “I hereby sentence you to one night—”

“—Three.”

“One in lock-up,” he spoke over her, then was fast to tack on, “with Daryl and this one as guards.” He motioned to the baby.

"Women shouldn't have male guards," she dryly droned.

"Overruled. You'll also get supervised outings for your duties tomorrow and the day after, including the trip to the Hilltop for Maggie’s prenatal visit. And,” he held up the music player, “you’ll need to listen to music with Siddiq on this. We know it works.” He cocked his head. “Let’s start with 20 minutes per day, like you and I had.”

Some tears slipped out even though she was smiling. She mouthed I love you to him, then asked out loud, “How many days?”

Rick squinted. “Fourteen.”

---------------------------

You

“You pick the songs. Whatever you like,” you told him, staring at the photo and rubbing the ‘22’ pendant over your lips. Daryl fixed the chain for you shortly after you’d broken it. You really love him.

Sid accepted the mp3 player out of your hand.

You and he each had one earbud in, one apple beside you, and Michonne sat nearby with Judith. Supervision was your stipulation, yet being proactive about ensuring it had done nothing for how humiliating it was.

Still, you took an objective look and figured Siddiq should know that his safety mattered, that your people were fair and held themselves to standards.

Just looking around the place, it looked as if standards were a given here. That Alexandria’s power grid and some panels were already repaired within three weeks of Negan’s razing was almost unbelievable.

Sucks for the Saviors Cult that the community had been built to withstand up to magnitude 4.1 earthquakes and be fairly fire-safe as part of its self-sustaining (and for-politicians) model, so in the least, a good number of the homes were still standing.

Carl's gazebo was another story, as were other similar structures, like the church, but the ash had been washed off by the rain, and the communities' walls were back up.

Next to you, Siddiq asked you how to work the mp3, citing, “Carl had been the one to…”

Had been the one to work it when he borrowed it to visit you out there, in order to show you some kindness. Before he got himself bit because of you.

The words festered inside of you. Whatever. Let them fester, you felt dead anyway.

As you went to point to show him, the picture hung from your outstretched, bandaged hand. The pic you'd chosen this time was another older one from the before-times, not one of the newer polaroids. You'd been the one to take it, actually, using a disposable camera about five and a half, maybe six years ago.

It was blurry, Lori and Carl had been being silly and stopped posing, Rick was mid-comment. You loved this one.

It felt so unreal now, felt fake.

Felt dead.

You checked your pulse. Still beating.

“The, um, just use-use those two buttons there for up and down to search,” you mumbled, tucking the photograph into your shirt pocket. “That one is for back, that one for options. Press down on the middle to click.”

He went huh. “Here’s the Indian music playlist,” he chuckled. Appears he’d found the Desi Party! playlist. Carl told you he’d played it for him.

Before he’d gotten fucking bitten.

How could your heart rage and ache so much if you were dead?

“It’s got all sorts on it,” you replied blankly to Siddiq. Remembering your oldest sister who’d made all the playlists before handing her mp3 down to you, it felt like she was made up. Felt like everyone was made up, fake. Dead.

“My mother was a big filmi fan,” he shared.

But you simply repeated, “Pick to whatever you like, you’re in charge of the songs.”

There was no emotion in your voice. You didn’t want to chat with him, didn’t want to nerd out about Bollywood music, and also didn’t want to face him after saying such awful things to him early today.

Hating him felt right. It felt "deserved," which is a word you'd learned to not use, thanks to Dale.

Granted, hating Siddiq felt wrong, too, which invited shame to take a seat on your lap.

So, you followed the rev’s advice and took comfort in the shame because it meant your conscience was still ordered in a good direction. It meant you weren’t fully dead yet.

You checked your pulse again to remind yourself that it was still beating. Life was still going.

Father Gabriel had also told you that feeling dead didn’t make you a bad mother or a bad wife or bad person, it simply meant you were broken and grieving.

“Y/N?”

“What?” you growled — and immediately wished it hadn’t come out that way. In your head, you told Carl you were sorry, you’d do better next time. Then, you prayed to stop hating the sight of Siddiq, the sound of his voice. Wished Dale or Hershel or T-Dog or Deanna or Denise or Sasha were there for, for—advice, support, you don’t know…

And because the rev has enough on his plate and needs to rest, maybe later you’d risk everyone’s ire and sneak away to visit Mr. Jones at the junkyard. At least he wasn’t dead yet, too. Maybe visiting him would convince him to move back to Alexandria.

“I never apologized for pulling you backward like that,” Siddiq said to you, a little short. Couldn’t blame him.

In truth, you had done all you were going to do to Negan after smacking him the once, but Sid wouldn’t have known that. Wouldn’t have known how grabbing you like that would flip an alarm, either.

No use moping, if your positions were reversed, you’d have wrangled him back, too.

And yet, you just caught yourself licking your teeth and sneering in response to his apology.

But it wasn’t out of anger or hatred so much as…you still aren’t certain what the emotion was. Grief, depression, shame, all three. You supposed it didn’t make a difference. Didn’t feel like much of anything.

Briefly, you put two fingers to your neck to check your pulse again. Still beating. Still alive.

Alive, and needing to eat some crow, as it were.

“Don’t apologize, you were protectin’ our patient. What I did was wrong,” you recited. “I-I threatened a patient and then whacked him across the face.” Your conscience then prompted you to apologize again for what you’d said to him. “And, just—Siddiq, what I said to you was bullshit and lies and m'sorry I said it. Cruel bullshit, naught else. Don’t go believing a word of it.”

He wasn’t clicking through the playlists and songs anymore.

Appearing uncomfortable, he peeked at you before he put his attention back on the mp3. “Michonne said pulling you like that was a trigger, which is why you, um…I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t know.”

First, you relaxed your jaw. “Ain’t your job to know. It’s mine to learn past it.” Next, you spackled on something of a smile and added quietly, “It’s good that you, that you stepped in. Thank you.” You did mean it, for what it was worth.

How many minutes until the twenty was up, you wondered, and tried to not be obvious about checking the time on your wrist. Eyeing Michonne, she seemed more preoccupied with Judith than with being punctual regarding your penance/sentence.

“PTSD is serious. That’s why I’m sorry, I, um,” Siddiq faltered. He went back to clicking through the music choices.

“We all have at least a little PTSD, bud.” With a light nudge to try and convey camaraderie or something, you attempted to tease, “C'mon, you chosen at least one song, yet?”

“Sorry, let me just, uh…” and with a few more clicks, the first song started. It was Bohemian Rhapsody.

“You chose the playlist ‘Songs Everyone Likes.’”

He chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, figured I couldn’t go wrong with that one.”

The memory of belting out this song with Carl, Glenn, Beth, and Maggie before your group even found the prison whooshed back and you started to smile—until you remembered that Carl was gone now. He was dead.

You’d forgotten all of that for hot second, but your Carl was dead. So was Glenn. So was Beth. So was Lori, who'd joined, so was T-Dog, so was...

Maybe you were dead, too. You felt dead—so, you pressed your fingers to your neck to feel for a pulse.

Still beating.

The lyrics of the song began to register. You know, the early parts like ‘I don’t wanna die,’ and ‘carry on, as if nothing really matters.’ Sounded a little too personal, tell you the truth.

And just like that, the song was skipped. You glanced at Siddiq.

He shook his head. “Not the right mood for it.”

“Mm.”

The intro to the next song in the shuffle was very bouncy, and ‘Dance to the Music’ started to jive through the earbuds. You didn’t sway along like you naturally would have. No urge to.

The song played, finished.

“First time I heard this was in Shrek,” Siddiq made small talk while munching on his apple. “Love that movie.”

You might’ve hummed in acknowledgment, you aren’t sure. He handed your apple to you, you took it. Held it.

The next song started, ‘Young Hearts Run Free.’

The song played, finished.

Siddiq made more small talk. “I remember that one in Romeo + Juliet, the one with, um, Leo DiCaprio. We watched that version in high school after we finished reading it.”

You hummed again. Pressed your fingers to your wrist, just in case. But no, your heart was still beating.

The next song started, ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash.’

“A lot of oldies,” he commented once the singing began. He took the final nibble off his apple.

“But goodies,” you responded, willing yourself to sound less stiff and monotone. “Modern stuff is on this playlist, too, don’t worry.”

The song played. Finished.

The next song started. ‘Another One Bites the Dust.’ Siddiq promptly skipped it once the refrain started and the lyrics sank in.

“Good call,” you grunted.

The next song started. ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.’

“Oh n—please skip this one, too." You loved that one, but you’d queued it up for Glenn at his and Maggie’s wedding, and it was not the time to go reminiscing. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Checked your pulse. Still beating. "Please skip 'Thunderstruck' if it comes on, too?”

The mp3 player clicked as Siddiq skipped the song. Next on the shuffle was ‘Under Pressure.’

He adjusted his seat and coughed. “This one fits.”

A combination sigh/groan was your contribution, because he was right. The two of you were the only doctors major medical personnel left standing.

The song played. Siddiq’s knees and wrists bounced to the rhythm where he sat beside you. You stared at your boots. Where’d all the soot and dirt on them and your clothes come from, you couldn’t remember…

…

It was when a strong gust of cold wind blew that you noticed that the music had stopped, your earbud was out, and the sky wasn’t as cloudy anymore.

When did that happen?

You sat up and blinked a few times, your apple still in one hand, Shane’s necklace in the other.

“Hey,” you heard Siddiq call.

What, why were your cheeks wet? “S-sorry, I,” you dropped the necklace, wiped your eyes with your sleeve, and put the apple down, “must’ve, um, checked out.”

“I’m not sure how long it was after it began when I noticed the change,” he let you know. “Is…this what happened earlier?”

You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Earlier was somethin’ else. This was just—” ‘Dissociation,’ was a misunderstood word, so Denise taught you. And you didn’t want to use the word for that reason.

You really wanted to keep a shred of dignity for yourself in the eyes of that guy. He didn’t even know that you’d hurt yourself when you’d ‘blacked out’ the other day…so, you decided upon a white lie highly euphemistic layman's term. “I spaced out.”

He nodded, but his brows sunk, as if he weren’t buying it.

And when he did that thing where someone slightly opens their mouth because they’ve put together a response, you changed the subject. “Listen to anythin’ good while I was in space?”

Siddiq wasn’t swayed. “Do you still feel detached?”

“A little,” you answered truthfully, breathing deep and checking your watch to try gauging how long you’d been out. Except, you had no recollection of what time it had been earlier, so it was a bust. God save you, you were a mess.

“Sid. I’m sorry you’re trapped dealin’ with this shit, it ain’t fair to you. If, if you wanna bounce early, don’t feel obligated to stay, and, and—like, if you don’t wanna do this whole music thing, it’s fine. W-we don’t want you feelin’ unsafe.”

“Unsafe? Y/N, I…” he paused. “I forgive you for what you said earlier. And I’m not scared of you. Hitting Negan wasn’t okay, but…” another pause. “Compared to the way most others are baying for his blood and how you defended saving his life, I mean—you helped me save him, Y/N—” He lifted his hands, palms to the sky. “You’re my friend, we work together, it’s not like I can’t see that you’re drowning.”

Nothing prepared you to hear that.

He was calling you a friend and was still trying to be understanding, after all that…

You wanted to slam your head on a hard, rough surface and cry from the shame and simultaneous relief. You also didn’t want to accept it, and so pushed back: “You were alone out there too long. Friends d-don’t tell friends they wish they were dead.” And mean it, you did not confess.

But of all things, he merely raised one shoulder and snorted. “I’m a really good friend?”

Tears spilled at the same time that you almost laughed. No, it's true, you almost laughed. Things felt a little unreal again, but in not a bad way. The most you could do right then was send up thanks for the mercy that came out of the mess. You pinched your wrist first, then felt for your pulse.

“Compared to a few minutes ago, do you feel more like yourself now?” Siddiq made sure.

Huh. You used to ask Shane a very similar question, when he was forgetting his goodness.

You kept feeling the small beats at your wrist, reminding you that you were indeed alive, therefore capable of healing and growth.

“Heart’s still beating,” you sniffled, making yourself smile at him. The hatred and disgust you’d felt earlier seemed to you less like a fact and more like a bad dream.

Then, from the far right of the oak tree, you heard Aaron’s voice saying, “Not yet, man, they’ve got four minutes left.”

Aaron and Daryl then came into view. They waved to you as they walked by with the babies, another reminder that you that you weren’t fully dead inside. Gracie was in a stroller, TJ was bundled in Daryl’s arms. Your husband lingered behind, eyes on you as he absently pecked a kiss to your baby’s covered head.

Something stirred, and your chest fluttered and tugged in their direction, reminding you again that your heart was still beating. So was Maggie’s, so was her and Glenn’s baby’s, so was Rick’s, so was Aaron’s. Life was still going. You had a child, a husband; lifelines. Their hearts were still beating, too.

The unexpected wink and the way Daryl’s gaze softened as he looked at you made you feel as if you’d been freezing and someone just handed you a cup of cocoa with mini marshmallows. The way he next moved his lips to pronounce ‘troublemaker,’ however, you ought to have seen coming a mile away.

The heaviness in your body eased a bit. A smile started prodding the corners of your mouth. Shyly, you returned the wave and mouthed ‘mangy hick,’ your wrist bumping against the photograph sticking from your shirt pocket.

Aaron noticed him acting like a dope lagging and gestured for him to keep up. “Four more minutes and we’ll come back to get her.”

Daryl called out "slowpoke," and waved your baby’s little arm to the two of you as they walked away. He kept peeking behind him, too, it warmed you. When they reached far enough, you once again took the photograph out from your pocket.

With a final peek at Carl’s picture, you sent up a prayer and reaffirmed the promise that you’d made to him. That you’d live for him, do him proud.

So long as your heart was still beating, you’d try to do him proud. “Seems you and I got four more minutes, Sid. What’ll we pick?”

-------------------------

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---------------------------

And here's the picture prize for getting through the long chapter!

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mydarllinglover · 7 months

Text

Alone || Blank Space

Natalia was the bait, she'd purposely let Carver find her, more like she was out seeking him, and when he caught on, she put on the act of her life, she looked terrified as she ran away from him, and when she walked that stage and accepted her Oscar, she'd tell the world that she was heavily influenced by Tatum, from Scream.

She made a show as she tried every handle down the hallway, loud enough to know they were there.

"Oops. Wrong turn." Carver grinned, looking down at her.

Maggie walked out one of the doors, joining her, but he still didn't seem phased, but then Elijah followed, and his cocky demeanour dropped.

"You killed my sister." He told the man.

"Okay." Carver shrugged.

An door opened behind the man, Negan walking out of it, holding a bat.

"Well, I got to say thanks for this." He faced Natalia, again. "I was getting tired of all the searching."

Negan lunged at him, but he was quicker, twisting his arm and shoving him hard, turning to kick Elijah down, too, Maggie was collateral damage in the fall.

"Leah won't let us keep her." He nodded at Maggie. "But you, she don't know you." He grabbed Natalia, smacking her into the wall. "She don't know you." He then back handed her.

She swung at him, and as he focused on her hand, she kneed him, hard in the crotch.

Natalia was thrown, hard, on to the floor, and Maggie was coming back at him with a knife, but with a solid hit with Negan's bat, she was back on the ground. He kicked Elijah's injured leg as he passed.

As he was about to stomp on her head, ending her, Negan caught his attention.

"Hey, over here, dickhead." He was holding a bell, showing it off proudly.

"This should be fun." Carver smiled, hitting his palm with the bat, walking towards Negan.

Elijah threw his weapon, causing Carver to dodge out the way, and as he did, Negan threw dirt in his eye, hitting him over the head with the bell.

"Well, ding-ding." He leered. "Thanks, kid." He looked down at Elijah.

"Fuck" Natalia groaned, rolling her newly healed fist as she touched her face. Blood was coming out of her reopened cut.

But she wasn't the only one, It was trailing out of Maggie's nose, too.

She stood up, grabbing the sharp scythe, passing it to Elijah, but he took her hand, pressing it back into her, looking determined.

She leaned over him, about to bring it down, as he gained consciousness.

"Stop!" Daryl shouted, coming round the corner.

"Should have took you out right off." Carver told him.

"Shut up." Natalia groaned, using her strength to kick him in the head, knocking him out again, she then fell down, on her back, catching her breath.

"We don't kill him yet." Daryl told them.

"Who's we? You're one of them now, right?" Natalia mocked, closing her eyes.

"Nat, c'mon." Daryl tilted his head.

"He needs to pay for what he did." Elijah told him.

"I agree. But if we go down that road... we ain't all gonna make it out alive. No offence." He pointed to the young mans injured leg. "I hate this prick. But we got him now, let's use him. Get what we want and go home."

"Are you doing this for her?" Maggie asked.

Natalia sat up, glaring at him.

"No. No, I'm not. I'm doing it for her" He pointed at Natalia. "And for us. Leah wants us gone, but not more than saving her own family, especially this asshole."

Natalia scoffed.

"This could go wrong 800 different ways." Negan chimed in. "Me, I am down with us getting out of this alive."

"No!" Elijah demanded.

"Elijah."

"You're just going to let him walk away?"

"Hey, what did I tell you, you get to kill your sister killer, and the rest are mine, unlike some people around here, I keep my promises, and my vows." She looked up at the man she called her husband, then reached for one of the walkies. "Hey, Leah, you will never guess who I'm with, right now. Wait, sorry, two people, thinking it's time for a reunion. What do ya say?"

"...Nat." Her hushed whisper came through the radio.

"Hey, girl, how ya been?" She faked cheerfulness, as the others sat around, hanging off of her every word.

"God, I forgot how irritating that hillbilly accent was." Leah gritted through her teeth.

"Y'know, your guys kinda hot." Natalia pulled out her knife, looking down at Carver. "Why didn't you just fuck him instead of trying to ruin other peoples lives?"

Leah had tried to reply, but the stoic woman could only stutter and look for her sentence.

"Oh! That's right, you're only into other peoples husbands." Natalia told her. "Oh, good, he's gaining consciousness"

"Nat, what are you doing?" Daryl hissed.

As Carver stirred awake, Natalia grabbed his right arm, holding it out straight, before bringing her knife down, within a second, his hand was attached, and then it wasn't, blood spouted out of his wrist, as he wailed loudly, both in pain and confusion.

"I just cut his hand off, he's not gonna have long before he bleeds out, if I were you, I'd be outside in five, and don't even think about pulling anything." Natalia spoke into the walkie.

"I'm gonna kill you, Dixon!" Leah shrieked, but Natalia wasn't bothered as she chucked the small box over her shoulder.

"Here kid, you can have the rest of him after this is dealt with" Natalia tossed the hand to Elijah, who caught it, staring in horror, just like the others were doing, as Carver still howled in pain, cursing Natalia out. "Shut up, you ain't gonna live long to need it again." She scowled down at him, standing up.

"Nat!" Daryl barked, getting up after her.

"Honey, not right now, I'm busy, why don't you go sleep with someone else. Negan, tie him up, let's go." Natalia reached into her pocket for her own walkie. "Gabriel, new plan, you shoot anyone on sight, but only when I give the signal, you're our little secret, for now."

"Roger that, Natalia." He reported back.

Negan led Carver as they walked into the courtyard, passing the crops, looking out for anyone in particular.

"Leave me here, if you have to." Elijah told Maggie, tears welling in his eyes, as he looked around, at his old home. "Just make sure he's dead."

"I'm not going anywhere without you." She set him straight. "No matter what happens, okay?" She then left his side, walking towards the married couple.

"You ready?" Daryl asked her.

"Yeah." She whispered, looking at Natalia. "You and Leah were friends...You've already lost enough."

"She delivered the twins, apart from that, she's nothing to me." Natalia stared ahead, her expression nonchalant. "'Sides, coulda done it myself, she interfered. Wait. Hang on." She dropped down, lifting her cargo's up and untucking a small hand gun from her leg, before passing it to Maggie. "This is still your mission."

Daryl nodded, his eyes falling on Natalia, his lips moving as though he was waiting to say something, but then eventually looked ahead, speaking into the radio.

"Leah." He called.

"We're here." She replied.

Over the road from them, a door was pushed open, revealing the woman.

"She's gone grey. Didn't tell me Jane went grey!"

"That matter?" Daryl scoffed.

"'Course it matters."

"Come out. Put your weapons on the ground." He responded to Leah, instead.

"I need to see Carver, first!" She called over.

Natalia held her hand out, and he placed the radio in her palm, taking Carver from Negan and holding his knife to the man's throat, leading him out into the open.

"Come out!" He beckoned, pulling Carvers hair, as he led him, Leah and her buddies meeting them.

"Put your weapons on the ground." He repeated.

"What are you offering?" She asked.

"Lose the weapons, we let you leave." Daryl said.

"Is that all?" A bald man, beside her, asked.

"You head north, don't turn back. I see anyone at all, I'm going to kill him. Once we're far out enough, I Let him go."

Carver tried to say something, but the gag in his mouth proved difficult.

"Shut up!" Daryl tugged harder on his hair.

"You expect me to trust you now?" Leah asked.

"Yeah, I do. We're doing this all wrong. We survived everything for what? To keep fighting and killing each other?"

"If that's what it takes."

"You don't have to. I'm giving you a chance to save what's left of your family and mine."

"What about your wife, we both know she's not gonna agree to this, small thing, but she's fierce."

"Yeah, well, she has a great mind to remember what you did for us, for our family and for her." The threat was clear as day in the man’s voice.

Leah thought about it, pushing her hair out of her face.

"No more lies. Jensen." She spoke into the radio.

A gun shot went off, bouncing on the ground inches away from Daryl's boots.

"That was a warning!" She bellowed. "The last one! Everybody out!"

Natalia looked up, at the windows, but she couldn't find Gabriel, with the hope he was around, she slightly nodded her head, as Negan gently ushered her forward, helping Maggie with Elijah.

"Lower the knife. Cut the rope." Leah ordered Daryl.

"Jensen, the little woman." She spoke, staring at Natalia, who met her gaze, fury in her eyes.

"Fine." Daryl let go of Carver, cutting the rope around is arms, freeing his one hand.

Carver pulled the gag out of his mouth, blowing a kiss to Daryl as he backed away, making a beeline for Natalia, but she didn't move a muscle, her concentration still on the woman.

"A hand for a hand." He said.

"Carver!" Leah demanded. "You leave her be, for now."

With visible restraint, he turned around, joining her.

“Look at you, seems like Willows all grown up, good dog!” Natalia cheered at the mams obedience.

“Quiet!” Leah snapped at her. “Or I’ll let him, what you deserve.”

“I mean, he can try.”

Elijah's breathes got more ragged as he pulled out the scythe, attempting to go after Carver.

"Elijah, don't." Maggie held him back.

"No one moves!" Leah continued to raise her voice.

"Elijah." Maggie repeated, when he continued on.

"He takes one more step, he dies!"

"Josephine." He spat.

Carver grinned, as he waved his hand for the boy to keep coming.

"Carve, don't."

"Stop." Daryl tried.

"Jensen, pull the trigger."

"Her name was Josephine..." He had fallen, hitting the ground.

Carver took a step forward, and as his leg swiped back, ready to kick him, his leg was shot, sending him down, too.

"Jensen!"

"Nope." Her radio reported back. "No Jensen here."

Natalia smirked, as they spotted Gabriel on the roof, his gun aimed down at them.

"Call me "Gabriel.” The other two better back off or they're next."

"Guess you could say I got friends in high places." Natalia couldn't help herself. "I'd listen to him if I were you, heard he chats with God."

Leah bowed her head in defeat.

"Stand down." She told her pals. "Your deal still stand?" Leah asked.

"You had your chance." Maggie told her. "You would have killed us. Picked us off one by one, right? Now Gabriel does the same thing to you."

"Maybe you're right." She stood up. "Your friend has the rifle, but I bet we take a couple of you down before he takes us all. You can have your town. We walk. You save your family, I save mine."

"Yeah." Daryl nodded.

Natalia furrowed her brows. Why the hell was he getting involved, ruining her operation.

"Negan?" Maggie looked to the man.

"You know what I think."

Maggie looked down, but Natalia didn't miss Maggie's finger tapping her thigh, twice.

"Drop your weapons and go." She told them.

"Not without Carver."

"Good luck with that, the man's deadweight with one hand and one leg." Natalia reminded.

Leah looked to the bald guy,

"Do it." She told him, but he looked perplexed. "I said do it."

The two men beside her dropped their weapons, whilst Leah dropped to Carver.

"I'll see you soon." She told him.

Natalia watched as they walked away, Maggie joined Elijah's side as Daryl dealt with Carver.

Natalia followed the three, pulling out her gun and shooting the man with the empty Machete sheath, in the head, the sound of his body hitting the floor filled the silence.

"Natalia!" Daryl shouted. "No!"

She ignored him, shooting the other man, as he started to run.

Leah was sprinting as Natalia followed after her, aiming for the back of her thigh, and shooting, causing the woman to yelp in pain, she then aimed for her shoulder and shooting.

Daryl caught up to her, grabbing a hold of her arm, but she moved out of his grip.

"Kill her." She told him.

"What?" He demanded.

"If you love me, if you want this to work, if whatever you had with Cadet Kelly was purely innocent, kill her, you'll do it for me." She pleaded, before making her way back, finishing off her job with Carver.

The man had seen her coming, grabbing a knife with his one good hand.

She kicked it out of his hand, picking up Elijah's scythe and standing on his injured leg, as she used it to impale the man in the chest, keeping him there as she got off, helping Elijah up from the ground, moving him towards Carver.

"Said he was yours." She told him, giving the boy her gun, letting him shoot Carver in the head, putting an end to his pain.

With the reapers finished, they got to work on collecting the food and supplies, setting up a wagon and horses so that they could carry it all back.

Daryl had return a bit later, looking grey, refusing to look at anyone.

"For someone who was shot twice, ran quick.... S'gone now."

Natalia licked her lips as she loaded a box onto the wagon, avoiding looking at him.

When they had nearly finished up, Maggie had announced that she'd head off, telling them that she had something to take care of, but she knew what it was, she was going back for Alden.

"You need me to go with you?" Natalia asked, quietly.

"No, stay with them, focus on getting home, maybe think about mending things with him before getting back to the children."

"Won't make any promises." She rolled her eyes.

During their walk back, Negan had left for a "walk" and they had let him, setting up their camp for the night, and then eventually sitting around a fire, Dog sat beside Natalia, as they watched the rabbit cook, he hadn't left her side since their reunion.

"I heard what you said." Gabriel spoke. "We're doing it wrong."

"I was just thinking about choices." Daryl replied. "Do they even matter anymore?"

"Depends on who's making the choice. Doubt's important, but it doesn't make you wrong."

"You telling me to have faith?"

"Yeah, I suppose so." Gabriel sighed, as a walker stumbled onto their camp.

"What about you?" Daryl nodded at him.

"Yeah, I'm trying." He got up from the ground. "I'm going to check on the horses." He bid the two goodbye, drawing a knife to take care of the walker.

Natalia picked at her nails as they sat in the suffocating silence.

"Stop doing that, gonna make 'em bleed." Daryl said.

She clenched her fingers, before letting go, looking away.

"When?" Natalia asked.

"Hm?"

"...You and Leah... When did you..." She couldn't force herself to finish her sentence.

"Never."

"God, Daryl, I'm not an complete idiot, I can put a few sentences together and figure out the context."

"Clearly yer can't, but Carver didn't know what the hell he was talking about, either"

"Then tell me, what the hell was going on, how did you know each other, why did you lie to me"

He was quiet, not wanting to respond.

"Daryl... please, if you can't even tell me, then.... I don't think I can fix this."

"Fine." He bowed his head, sighing deeply.

She was impatient as she waited for him to croak, she felt like she was slowly dying, needing his confession to bring her back.

"After Rick, an' you were just getting closer an' closer with the twins, I couldn't be at home, was just too much, the time weren't right, I couldn't be having babies in the world when he wasn't- I just couldn't comprehend it, ma kids, my first ever babies, so I stayed out in the woods, looking fer him, Michonne, she did the best she could, coming and going, but... when she couldn't, an' I was out there alone, I felt alone, an' I ain't never felt that before, but I missed Rick, an' I missed you."

"All you had to do was come back to me, I didn't go nowhere." She whispered.

"I know that, but I just couldn't, it hurt too much." He replied. "But then... I met her, in them woods, all by herself with a shotgun, we kept bumping inta each other, and when the weather was changing up, I had ta camp out with her, an' we gots to know each other an' we got closer, I told her about Rick an' Glenn, and everyone else, and I told her about you and the kids, tha three of 'em, she'd ask why I weren't with ya, and I said it was complicated. More time passed, an' she tried ta kiss me, I swear to God, Nat, I didn't kiss her back, I pushed her off, I was shocked she even tried it. The same day, I got back to Alexandria, and I didn't leave the walls 'till Evie and the others went missing."

"You ever saw her again?" Natalia asked, after processing what he had told her.

"Yeah, couple'a times." He blinked. "But they were both on accident, ran into each other."

"When we got to the cabin, with the girls, and there was that note, did she leave because of me, or was it actually because of you?"

"Natty, I don't know, but the las' time we talked, she asked me to go with her, ta leave my life behind an' leave the area, an' I told her to go to hell, I'd rather live ma life back in that fucking underground station then live in a life you ain't in." He got up from his log, sitting in front of her. "Baby, I'm sorry, alright, shoulda never lied to ya about anything, or kept it a secret."

"Then why did you, I told you about her. I tell you everything, you were the first person I ever opened up to in this, I trust you most in this world, and time after time you show me why I shouldn't." She dropped her head into her hands not wanting to even look at him.

"I'm sorry." He murmured, his hand hesitated over her hair, wanting to brush it with his fingers, like he normally would, but he thought that if he touched her for the meantime, Carver wouldn't be the only person losing a hand that day. "But I love ya, and ya gotta understand, I don' do anything with the idea of hurting you, I screwed up, I been screwing up, and you don' deserve that, but we can move past this, I'll get better with opening up, alright, I swear, Natty, it ain't gon happen again, I ain't never gonna let you down, again."

She didn't want to forgive him, she didn't think she should have to, either, but she loved him, and her kids deserved to see their parents getting along when they got back.

"If something like this ever happens again, you keep secrets from me ever again, I can't kill you because of the kids, but us, we, we'll be over, for good, you won' even get a chance to beg for me back, got it?"

"I promise, baby, I'm sorry." He hugged her, cradling her face as he squeezed her tight.

Natalia finally managed to push him off of her, when she saw Maggie walking towards them, alone.

Gabriel had taken this as his que to return back to the campfire, from where he was hiding behind the wagon.

"Alden?" He poked the elephant not in the room.

Maggie answered with a slight shake of her head, he was gone.

Dog whimpered between the Dixons, seeming to pick up on the groups emotions, and Daryl did his best to settle the beloved animal.

"You see Negan? He said he'd catch up." Gabriel continued.

"He dead?" Natalia asked, no one missed the hopefulness in her voice.

"He left." Maggie answered.

"Hey, Maggie." Elijah spoke, waking from his nap, a few feet away.

During the day, Natalia decided to walk beside Daryl, even giving him an earbud so that they could share her Ipod.

"Was mine and my dad's favourite song, when I was little." She told him, during the opening of Everywhere, by Fleetwood Mac.

"S'good song." He smiled at her, slightly swaying his head.

Natalia's mood soured drastically when they had entered the walls of Alexandria, seeing the dead body's and the burning pit all over the ground.

She vividly searched the faces, looking for anyone familiar, her family, but they were nowhere amongst the dead, small mercies.

"Aunt Nat!" Judith screamed, being the fastest runner. "Uncle Daryl!"

"Mommy! Daddy!" The twins yelled, desperately trying to catch up, RJ running along with them, whilst Evie walked with Archie, a far bit behind, the baby's small legs slowing the pair of them down.

"Babies!" Natalia felt a rush of relief as Judith knocked her down, jumping on the woman and hugging her tight. "Judy, you okay?"

"Missed you" She answered, but they both grunted, when two beings also jumped on them.

"Mommy!" Daisy cheered.

"Mommy, you're back." Bambi kissed her cheeks.

"I told you I'd be back."

"Alright, let yer mama and Jude breath." Daryl lifted the twins, one in each arm, off the pair.

"Delivery." Evie greeted, replacing the three children with a baby.

"Mama." Archie held Natalia's face, as she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

"Hi, baby, did you miss Mommy?" She asked, kissing his cheeks, getting up from the ground.

"He refused to go to sleep because you guys weren't home." RJ shared, hugging Daryl, as he handled the twins, who were using him as a climbing frame.

"Where's Gage?" Evie asked.

"Honey, I'm sorry." Natalia started.

"Oh, I doubted he'd make it, to be honest." She commented, the girl looked more disappointed then devastated.

"Hey, kid put up a fight." Daryl told her, cupping Evie's head and kissing her hair.

"Dad, he weren't a fighter, don' gotta lie to me." She shrugged him off.

"This it?" Carol asked, coming round the corner.

"Yeah." Daryl nodded, in reply, hugging Lydia, whilst Natalia hugged Evie.

"Where's Negan?" Lydia asked, turning to give Natalia one.

"He left." He answered. "He ain't coming back here. Here you go. Just take one." Daryl offered an bucket of apples to the children.

"Oh my god!" Natalia turned around, spotting a familiar face. "Connie!" She almost dropped Archie, if it weren't for Rosita quickly taking him, as she ran to the woman, who wrapped her arms around her. "You look good." She signed.

"So do you." Connie signed back, drawing the opened scar on her own face with her finger.

Love filled the air as they all reunited, but also shared the losses of the ones who gave up their lives, for their community, demounting the supplies from the wagon.

"Hey! Got something coming!" Jerry bellowed, from the watch towers.

"Stay put." Natalia warned the kids, making her way over, Daryl and Maggie following.

"These guys with you?" He asked, as they watched the horses with armed men on top, approach the gates. "Guess not."

"Everyone, get ready!" Daryl warned, as they aimed their weapons.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!" Eugene repeated, running to the front. "We're all friends. We're all friends."

"Anyone else getting De Ja Vu?" Natalia asked.

"They're here to help." He explained, a grin on his face.

"Ezekiel, Yumiko, and I set out on a journey." Eugene explained, once they had let him in, letting the guards empty supplies from their wagons. "Charged ourselves with finding hope in our darkest of days. Suffice to say we hit the proverbial jackpot. It's probably best that I step aside, so y'all can hear it from the horse's mouth, as it were."

"We ate horse the other day." Daisy commented, rather loudly.

"Shh." Daryl covered her mouth.

"I give you Mr. Lance Hornsby, diplomatic representative of the Commonwealth." Eugene greeted, allowing a man in a three piece suit, to take the "stage" whilst he was the only one to clap for him.

"Hello, I'm Lance." The man introduced himself, but no one even bothered to offer him a smile. "Thank you for allowing us into your home. I must say, I am impressed with everything you've built here and what I've heard of your other communities. But it's clear you've fallen on hard times. And that is where the Commonwealth is more than willing to help. If you remain, we can provide labor and materials to help you build back all you've lost. However, if any are interested I do have another potentially more interesting choice to offer."

"Just get on with it." Natalia called, speeding up his large and spacious speech.

"Yes." He laughed. "Well..."

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