Hello, guys! So I'm really excited about this chapter, there's a lot going on in it that I've been wanting to write for a while which is also going to kickstart a lot of stuff. So I hope ya'll enjoy it, too. The chapter song is "Do or Die" by Flux Pavilion feat. Childish Gambino (the Flosstradamus remix); it's hella epic and perfect for ass-kicking lol. Also, I know ya'll have been wondering for a while about certain loose ends and while I don't want to give too much away I will say that this story is very much a reunion story- so do with that what you will lol. As always, thanks so much for your reviews and support, it makes me, just, the happiest, you guys. Let me know what you think!
10. Do or Die
Here was the plan, and it was beautiful.
Eugene had named the mission Supernova, because from the start to finish the whole process would collapse in ever-narrowing layers until the final explosion, starting with the sentries.
There were four main watch points on the outside, which the Misfits would be distracting. Eugene had factored in everything, including the time the moon would set. At two seventeen a.m., when everything was full dark, Tanner, Dave, Dray and Charlie would light the flares they'd tied to tree limbs several yards out from the compound, one for each watch point.
The sentries would venture out to investigate, at which point each Misfit would release their respective walker hordes. With the sentries properly ambushed, the Misfits would return to the compound to start work liberating the walkers in the deadwall.
Ashlee and Renee, easily the best climbers in the lot, would scale the buildings to douse the rooftops with booze. The alcoholic in Mason had cringed a bit while they'd raided the liquor store, but the Misfits had been squirreling away gasoline for months and she knew they'd need it for...for their journey.
Meanwhile, Mason and Eugene would sneak in through the back of the main building. It was a few hallways down from the cells, but Dwight had assured them it was the closest they could get without completely blowing the mission. There would be men guarding the cells, but so long as Dwight did his job they would not have back-up; once a good majority of the deadwall was free, he was to let them inside the building to give the other Saviors something to worry about.
Sherry had volunteered to distract Negan for as long as she could. Dwight hadn't come out and said how, but the look he'd shared with Mason had told her everything. She knew better than anyone the things Sherry would likely be doing to serve as that distraction. She tried not to think about it.
And the rest...
The rest was just a series of ignitions.
~m~
The sentries took the bait.
The moment they disappeared into the woods, Mason and Eugene slipped through the door Dwight had told them to. She blanched as she crossed the threshold; she knew these hallways, knew the smell of them, knew the shapes of the shadows the lights threw. It was insane. It was fucking mental. They had gotten out by the skin of their teeth the last time and now here they were, of their own free will...
Get a grip, she thought, breathing the way Denise and Dray had taught her to quell her anxiety. Firmly she shoved her panic into the cage.
But the fire...
She left the door wide open for that.
They didn't see anyone at first as they hurried for their first turn. No map- neither of them had been able to decide if they were pleased or horrified that they remembered the layout so intimately. Because of her missing ear, she'd had to tighten the goggles resting on her head; they squeezed her head like a vise. The rag hanging at her throat was too hot, too stifling. But Eugene had said she might need them and then had lovingly proceeded to put them on her while she'd scowled and tried not to fidget. So she kept them where they were.
When they turned the first corner, however, there they were: six men standing guard at regular intervals, four men walking.
Mason lunged forward while Eugene strolled after her a bit more sedately. The men walking were unarmed, or at least did not have time to draw their weapons before she was on them, stabbing through the throat, bashing them on the skull. Eugene took care of the guards, shooting them each through the head with such quickness and precision that Mason let out a huff of laughter.
"We are seriously the dream team," she said when all the men lay dead at their feet.
Eugene nodded as he reloaded his gun. "I won't argue that."
They made quick work of confiscating all of the men's guns and the bullet casings on the floor, shoving them in the gun bag slung over Eugene's shoulder. There would be no trips to the armory this time unfortunately. Dwight had told them that after their grand escape, Negan had had it moved into his own apartment, and apparently that whole area was even more heavily guarded than the cells. Still, they would take all they could get.
They turned the corner into the next hall. There were only two men in this one, no guards. Mason and Eugene took them down side by side, slitting their throats before they could make a sound. While they confiscated their weapons, Mason glanced at Eugene.
"Time check?"
He checked the watch he'd scavenged just for this occasion. "Two twenty-seven."
She nodded. "Right on schedule."
The third hallway was much like the first- five guards, all armed. No one walking through, so Mason drew her own gun and rounded the corner at Eugene's casual pace. The men lifted their guns but none of them had time to fire; Mason and Eugene shot them all through the head without breaking stride.
The whole process was relatively quiet. Both of their guns had silencers, and the only sound came from the bodies as they slumped to the floor.
Even so, a few men with apparently terrific hearing came creeping around the corner from the fourth and final hall. When they saw the two intruders, they shouted for the others guards- thirteen, if Dwight was correct.
"Alright, I guess we're doing this," Eugene muttered and pulled two smoke bombs from his pocket.
Which was Mason's cue.
She pulled the goggles down over her eyes and the rag up over her nose. She started running the same moment that Eugene threw the bombs, filling the hall with thick gray smoke. The men started coughing. They stumbled to a halt, blinded by their stinging eyes.
Mason was a ghost among them.
She flitted from shadow to shadow like some lethal will-o-the-wisp, relishing the splatter of blood as she stabbed each one through the skull. Eugene waited at the edge of the cloud to shoot down any who slipped past her.
And it felt so good to let the fire have its way. To let it lash through her veins, fueling her movements with savage grace. Yes, it was her weapon. It was the greatest weapon in her arsenal.
When the smoke cleared, Mason counted the bodies. Thirteen, just as Dwight had said. A quick peek around the corner confirmed that these were the only guards.
"Coast's clear," she said, her stomach fluttering with a sudden rush of nerves. They were finally going to be reunited with their best friend, the third in their trio.
The one they had left behind.
"Dwight's probably getting in position," Eugene said, hissing a little as he clutched at his arm, which she realized then was bleeding.
Mason gasped. "Shit, what happened?"
"One of those assholes got a good shot in before I could turn him into a corpse but-" He broke off with a chuckle. "You look so concerned."
"What... How else am I supposed to look? Jesus, you just told me you got shot."
"Now you look irritated."
"Well, I am. Stop jumping in front of bullets."
Eugene gave her an earnest, lopsided grin. "Yes, ma'am."
Mason scowled. "C'mere."
Quickly she pulled the rag from around her neck and used it to bandage his arm.
"Looks like it's just a graze, but it's still bleeding quite a bit," she muttered.
"At the risk of incurring your wrath a second time, that's what I was trying to inform you before," Eugene replied. "Precious Worryin' Warrior."
"Okay, everybody needs to stop calling me that or so help me..."
Though the hall was empty, they still assumed their typical defensive position as they stalked toward the cells. Mason's heart thudded unevenly, her eyes zeroing in on the door. Sherry, bless her heart, had managed to steal the key a second time and Dwight had passed it along to them, and now she could feel it burning a hole in her pocket.
Did Daryl resent them for leaving? Did he think they'd betrayed him?
She hesitated in front of the door, that same one that she'd lived behind, naked and hungry and so sure she was going to die.
The fire retreated to its cage. Her bones felt weak and cold without it.
She reached into her pocket for the key. It slid away from her sweaty, trembling fingers several times before she was finally able to secure it.
Eugene kept watch the whole time but as she was standing there, bracing herself against the months of guilt and torment she'd kept at bay until now, he reached out behind him for her hand.
She breathed one soothing breath.
Then she unlocked the door.
Because Dwight had already given him a head's up, Daryl was on his feet and ready, but he blinked furiously in the sudden light as if he didn't see it much anymore. Indeed he looked paler, weaker, than the last time she'd seen him. But that wasn't what had the breath catching painfully in her throat.
His right hand was gone.
She stared at the stump where it once had been while his eyes adjusted, and a cold sweat broke over her.
"Now, I'm gonna need a clean cut and I know this is a fucked up thing to ask but it's gonna need to be like a salami slice. Give us something to fold over."
It had been cleanly and perfectly amputated, with time enough to heal.
They must have done it that same night, after she and Eugene had escaped. They must have-
"...cut your boy's arm off, right on that line...
Or do you really want to see these people die?
Because you will.
You will see every ugly thing."
Her stomach heaved and she swallowed back bile.
"Daryl," she croaked, and there was more that she needed to say, to apologize for, but she couldn't get the words out.
But Daryl stepped forward, and his eyes shone with love as he looked at her and Eugene.
"Hey, guys," he rasped.
The power went out then, and Mason suddenly remembered where she was.
Daryl cursed under his breath, but Mason grabbed his hand.
The one that was still there, anyway.
"It's okay, it's just Dwight," she said, swallowing her guilt. "That's actually our cue to get the fuck out of here."
Eugene's flashlight cut through the darkness. "Let's vanish."
He led them back the way they'd come. Mason refused to let go of Daryl's hand, and he cleaved to her like a life preserver. Her mind was a whirl of repeating thoughts- they had him back, he'd lost his hand, they had him back, they'd left him.
The path was clear all the way to the exit. When they stepped outside, the scent of alcohol and smoke assaulted them. Mason looked up to see flames flickering on the rooftops.
"They're in the woods," Eugene said, already reaching for the bow on his back. He'd swapped out the crossbow at the last minute, claiming that his arrows were much more disposable, but Mason thought it was just because he didn't want Daryl seeing him use it. A stepping on toes kind of thing.
They skirted the front of the compound, slipping instead through the hole they'd cut earlier in the back fence. People began screaming as the fire spread and the walkers infiltrated the building. Mason hoped Dwight and Sherry had found somewhere safe to lay low in the chaos.
She saw the first bomb arrow arc through the darkness on her left. Tanner's quadrant. It sailed cleanly for its target, one of the trucks parked by the front gate, and blew the front tire on the passenger's side. Flames licked their way up to the hood. Mason grinned.
More arrows rained down on the compound, from all different directions; when they were close to the gate, Eugene took up his own position and nocked a bomb arrow. Mason lit the fuse while he took aim. A moment later he let fly, and it soared beautifully into a cluster of motorcycles in the front yard.
They didn't pause for long, though Mason was itching to watch the fire devour every inch of that fucking place. Saviors ran around in a panic, trying desperately to put out the blaze while fending off walkers. It was anarchy and it was gorgeous, but Eugene was tugging on her sleeve, reminding her that it was too dangerous to stay in one spot for too long. They ran deeper into the woods, dodging the places they knew the walker hordes would be set up.
Tanner, Renee and Ashlee were waiting for them, clearly still hyped by the way they paced around each other. Daryl recoiled at the sight of them. Mason squeezed his hand reassuringly.
"They're friends," she murmured, but he continued to glare warily.
"Where are the others?" Tanner demanded, stalking toward them.
Mason blinked. "They're not back?"
"Do you see them anywhere?"
"We'll round them up," Eugene said before she could snap a reply. "You three need to get Daryl away from here."
Daryl stiffened. "No. I'm staying with ya'll."
"Daryl, it's okay." Gently Mason touched his face. "We'll be right behind you."
He eyed her for a long time, for all the world a feral animal wanting desperately to trust. He was trembling. A rush of sympathy put a lump in her throat, but she stifled the urge to wrap her arms around him and protect him from the world.
"Trust me," she whispered. "We just got you back, we're not letting anything separate us now."
He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. "Okay. Okay."
"We'll meet you at the rendezvous point in ten," Renee said, examining Daryl with a nurse's concern but wisely keeping her distance. "If you two aren't there by then, we'll come get you."
Eugene nodded and tossed Tanner the gun bag. "Constant vigilance," he reminded them.
Ashlee giggled, still a bit breathless from adrenaline. "Yes, sir, Mad-Eye."
As they disappeared into the dark, Eugene said, "I propose we make a clockwise circuit. It's more likely with their previous positions that they'd be coming from the north."
"I concur, doc."
She tried not to let her imagination get the best of her as they retraced their steps. The whole mission had just gone so smoothly and now the others were late. If anything had happened to them...
Her fire roared to life at the thought.
They were rounding the north side of the compound, sticking to the cover of the trees, when they heard the shatter of glass, close enough that it cut through the cacophony of the Saviors. A second later, Dave stumbled into their line of sight, holding his bleeding face. A man followed and punched him in the gut.
With practiced haste, Eugene drew an arrow and shot the man through the eye. He hit the ground just as Eugene and Mason reached Dave, guiding him to a sitting position.
"Son of a bee sting, that hurt," Dave grunted. "Hey, guys."
Mason sat on the ground with him, letting him lean against her shoulder. "Let me see," she instructed.
Wincing, he pulled his hands away, revealing a peppering of cuts all along the left side of his face. Blood dripped into his eye, but thankfully it appeared unharmed. She was more concerned by a stab wound in his shoulder, which had already darkened the collar and sleeve of his shirt.
Dave followed her gaze. "Oh, yeah... But you should see the other guy! Dead. He's dead. He's the first guy I've ever killed. I mean, the first living guy I've ever killed. Kinda don't know how to feel about that yet but-"
"You need to apply pressure," Mason said tightly.
"Right, yeah, of course," he said, but Mason still had to physically take his hands and press them to the wound herself. She recognized his manic energy for what it was, but he would have to wait to fall apart until they were all safe.
"Hey."
She looked up at the edge in Eugene's voice and movement a few yards off caught her eye.
Dray and Charlie standing back to back in a circle of Saviors.
Eugene reached for his gun, but when he checked the magazine he frowned. "I'm out."
Only four more arrows in his quiver, and Mason counted eight men. She bit her lip, prepared to drag Dave to a hiding place while she fought, but Eugene tore the rag from his injured arm and began picking up pieces of the bottle the man had used to attack Dave.
"What are you doing?" she hissed.
"You stay here and keep an eye on him," Eugene said, hastily wrapping the glass shards in between his fingers.
Just like she'd done for him in the train car at Terminus, but with...
"Sharp buttons and hella confidence," he said with a wink, and lunged into the fray before she could protest.
Panic seized her, but at the first strike of his makeshift weapon she couldn't help staring in awe.
By himself, he fought differently. He fought in ways she'd never taught him, that even Abraham hadn't taught him.
That's all Morgan, baby, Abraham said.
Morgan?
Redirection at its finest.
And it was, she realized with a jolt. The men came at him, and he used their own force, their momentum- everything they threw at him- against them. Not to spare their lives, as Morgan would have, but to sweep them off balance. To keep them away from Dray and Charlie as much as possible. They covered him as he fought, but she had a feeling that if it had just been him he could have held his own.
Long ways away from the inept jellyfish that killed my truck, huh?
Oh my god, how are you still salty about that?
She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until all the men were dead. Gently she helped Dave to his feet, and once Dray and Charlie had a hold of him she rushed into Eugene's arms.
He laughed a little. "Yes, hello, honey, I'm back from the war."
"When did you learn all that?" she demanded, nuzzling into his chest.
"In between all my other lessons."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you and Morgan weren't exactly on speaking terms at the time." He leaned away to look at her. "I told you you were my hero, Mason. I didn't want it to always be you protecting me. I wanted to protect you, too."
She shook her head, overcome with a wave of affection and pride and-
Stress.
With a vicious glare, she tweaked his side.
"Ow! What-"
"What did I say about jumping into danger?"
"If I recall, you only specified jumping in front of bullets."
"Don't try and justify yourself with technicalities, you reckless, showboating dumbass! I swear to god, if you ever do anything like that again, I...I will twist your nipples off."
Eugene's eyes widened. "Not my nipples. I need those."
"For what?"
"For sexual stimulation. And aesthetic."
Her lips twitched, but she would not smile. She would not let him win.
But of course he recognized the struggle on her face, the fucking asshole. His eyes gleamed. There was a brief pause, and then...
"You know, sixty-three Earths can fit inside Uranus."
And Mason broke, snorting with laughter.
"Goddammit, Eugene!"
He blinked innocently. "What? I was simply trying to share an interesting fact with you from my vast wealth of knowledge."
"Vast wealth of dickery..."
"Hickory dickery."
~m~
Mason sat with Dave and Eugene while Renee patched them up. None of their wounds were terribly serious, though Dave's did take longer as Renee had to pluck glass out of his skin.
The whole time, she was painfully conscious of the fact that Daryl was waiting for them in the living room, and from the concerned pinch between Eugene's brows, he was, too.
Eventually Dave sighed. "Guys, go see your friend."
"Yeah, you probably should," Renee said. "He's not comfortable without you two around."
Mason swallowed hard and shared a contrite look with Eugene. With a promise to visit Dave later, they headed into the house.
Daryl was indeed waiting in the living room on a couch by himself, glaring down at his twitching fingers. An empty plate sat next to him. The other Misfits were scattered on furniture around him, eating their own dinners in awkward silence.
As soon as he saw her and Eugene, he jumped to his feet. The plate clattered to the floor but nobody said anything.
Heavy silence stole over the room. The Misfits paused in their eating, wide eyes flicking back and forth between the three of them. Mason's heart pounded. She felt as though she were standing on the thinnest glass.
Then Daryl strode toward them, lower lip trembling, and wrapped both of them in his arms.
They hugged him back immediately, crushing him close enough that it probably hurt, but he didn't complain. All of them bowed their heads, burying their faces in each other's necks, their shoulders.
They stood there for a very long time, unwilling to let go, and soaked each other's shirts with tears.
~m~
"So ya'll got tattoos?"
It was the first Daryl had spoken since asking them to tell their story from start to finish. The three of them were sitting in Ashlee's room, Mason and Eugene on the bed, Daryl on the floor. They'd offered to let him have the bed but he said after sleeping on concrete for three months it was too comfortable. Which had just made their guilt that much harder to bear.
"Uh, yep," Mason answered. It was a testament to how desperately Daryl was trying to adjust, to reorient his sanity around this new freedom, that that was his first question. She and Eugene held out their wrists to show him.
She expected him to comment on the arrows, but his only response was a low, "Hurm."
The silence dragged. Suddenly, in light of his amputated hand, the tattoos felt childish, ridiculous. But after a moment Daryl nodded.
"I get it," he said quietly. "Merle and some of his Army buddies got tattoos together." He glanced back and forth between them, his expression unreadable. "Is that what you've built here? An army?"
"That was our intent, yes," Eugene answered.
"Because Alexandria was taken."
His flat tone made Mason flinch.
"Yes," she murmured.
"And someone...someone burned the Safe Zone to the ground."
"It's still burning."
He sat mutely for a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip. He was in shock, she realized. Too numb to process his emotions yet. Mason fidgeted, unsure of how to phrase her next question.
"Daryl," she finally said. "Do you think...I mean, you don't have to talk about it if you're not up to it, but...what happened? After we-"
She broke off. She couldn't say it. In her mind, she could still see him surrounded by Saviors, pushing her away so that she could be free.
Daryl's eyes cleared. The distance in them sharpened, and suddenly he was there with them in a way he hadn't been since their reunion. Like he'd never left a part of him behind in that prison cell.
"Stop blamin' yourselves," he growled. "I see it in your faces every time you two look at me. I pushed you away that night. I wanted you to get out."
Mason's eyes stung. "We left you," she whispered.
"You had to."
"I can't stop thinking about it."
"You had to leave me, Mason," he repeated forcefully, and there was no doubt in his voice. No blame. "If you'd stayed, there would've been no way out again. You had only one chance. Don't try and pretend that you wouldn't have done the same for me and Eugene. That's just what we do for each other."
He was right. It was.
"My story?" he continued and shrugged. "There ain't much to tell, I guess. That night, after ya'll got out, they took me back inside and Negan cut my hand off. Punishment or whatever. You know how he creams his jeans about that shit. Thought he was gonna kill me but instead he gave me this whole lecture about how there are worse things than death."
Mason's pulse faltered, her veins turning to ice. She could feel Eugene's eyes on her but she couldn't look at him.
"I was in that cell most of the time. Dwight and Sherry brought me extra food when they could. I asked them every time if they'd heard anything about you two but they hadn't. Told me most of the Saviors thought ya'll were dead, but I knew that was bullshit. But your escaping did more good than you expected. Apparently a group of the wives and a few of the Saviors tried to rise up. Course Negan had them all executed, but it really shook him, you know?"
Mason and Eugene shared a stunned look.
"We...inspired a coup?" Eugene said.
Daryl nodded. "Mm hmm. Simon suffered for that. Negan blamed him for letting it escalate, so that's how Dwight got promoted to second. Never suspected that maybe Dwight might be disenchanted with the whole thing, too. Simon's been scrambling to make up for it by running the show at the outpost where Alexandria was taken, but so far Negan's not impressed."
Eugene frowned. "Do you think that's where they'll be heading now that their main compound is compromised?"
There was a note of frustration in his voice and Mason couldn't blame him. When they'd planned their attack, they'd debated for a long time what to do about the survivors. But the truth was there were just too many to take on, even with the walker constellation, even with the aid of the Misfits. Taking them down would have to be in pieces.
"I don't know. Maybe," Daryl said.
Eugene nodded, unsurprised. "We'll ask Dwight when we see him next."
"When are you meeting him again?"
"We arranged to meet two days from now at the rendezvous point. Are you in?"
Daryl's eyes flashed. "Yeah. I'm gonna be in every part of this."
Mason couldn't help it; her eyes flashed to Daryl's stump.
He noticed. "I can fight just fine," he snapped. "Been practicin'. I don't need you coddlin' me."
"I'm not, I'm just worried-"
"Well, don't be. You ain't gonna be the only ones fightin'."
"I think maybe what Mason was suggesting was that you rest a bit before throwing yourself out of the frying pan," Eugene said. "No offense, but you really do resemble, um, roadkill more than you do the good ole Squirrel-bane we remember."
Daryl snorted and glared at the floor. Mason bit her lip. It was true that Daryl was in desperate need of recovery, but he would eventually be back to his old strength.
How was he going to fare with only one hand?
But when she glanced at Eugene, he shook his head slightly. He was being tactful, she realized. Daryl would rather admit he needed time to heal than admit to a permanent weakness.
My baby brother's gonna be just fine, Merle said. I got along pretty damn well with only one hand.
"Yeah," she said. "Renee will get you back to your former squirrel-baning glory in no time. She kept me from dying. And she took good care of Tanner when I, you know, broke his face."
After a long pause, Daryl's lips twitched a little. "He reminds me of Abraham."
Mason's eyes softened. "Yeah. He does."
"Dave kinda seems like Beth whenever she had too much sugar. Remember?"
She smiled. "I remember."
"I think Charlie's gonna be tight with Rosita and Carol."
Tears blurred her vision. "I think you're right."
"I want you to show me."
She blinked. "What?"
Daryl looked up. "Alexandria. I want to see it for myself."
She understood immediately. It wasn't that he didn't trust that they'd told him the truth.
It was fuel for his own fire, the one she saw building behind his eyes, kin to her own.
"Get some sleep," she said softly. "We'll show you once you look a little less like death."
~m~
"I think I can fashion something for Daryl. Something like what you described his brother had."
Eugene and Mason lay on the floor next to Daryl, who had only drifted into a deep sleep once they'd joined him. They'd been whispering on and off for a few hours, neither of them able to sleep despite their exhaustion. Partly it was because Daryl had requested they keep the bedside lamp on and Mason couldn't really blame him for that- she remembered the darkness of their cell intimately. But partly, she thought, it was because the war had officially begun. She wondered if she'd be able to sleep at all until it was over.
"We were able to scavenge a prosthetic for Beth's dad when he lost his leg," Mason replied. "But it took a while to find."
Eugene looked doubtful. "Odds are any that might have been laying around have been snatched up, but we will keep our eyes out. Until then, I think I could set him up with a nice sturdy base and multiple interchangeable attachments. For different purposes, you know. The Swiss Army knife of prosthetics. Might be a bit of a MacGyver concoction, but I can make it work."
Mason smiled a little. "I think he'll like that. His brother would have been ecstatic."
Fuck yeah, I would. Goddammit, where the hell was your geek boy booty call when I lacked my own right hook?
Eugene peered at her curiously. "Who are you hearing?"
The question caught her so off guard that she felt her blood pressure drop.
She gaped at him, trying desperately to make her mouth form words.
"I...I...what?"
He blinked kindly. "After Beth, you told me that you sometimes heard her speaking to you. I couldn't help noticing then that you sometimes...reacted as though someone were indeed talking, and it has happened much more frequently since we escaped. Pardon me for being so frank. I just am naturally curious, especially when it comes to you."
A rush of gratitude overwhelmed her. He was offering her an outlet to talk about it without having to bring it up herself.
"How did you know?" she asked quietly. "I mean, like, how did you know it wasn't Beth?"
"You had a look of such intense irritation on your face that the vitriol alone could have corroded the hulls of ten thousand ships. I figured Beth probably never elicited such a combative reception."
She laughed under her breath. "Merle. I was hearing Merle."
"Ah. Well, from what everyone tells me, that was the only appropriate response."
Fuck you, you lyin' ass weenie.
Eugene's lips twitched. "What is he saying now?"
"He said 'fuck you, you lyin' ass weenie'."
He snorted with amusement and Mason experienced a moment of such acute unreality that she wondered if maybe she were dreaming. Confessing to Eugene about hearing Beth was one thing. Confessing to hearing other voices was another. But relaying what they said? Laughing about it? It was stranger than strange, and yet...
It felt okay. It felt right.
So she told him about it. All of it, every conversation she'd had with the voices. And Eugene listened without judging, without laughing- at least, unless one of the voices said something funny. And she was blindsided all over again by how perfect he was for her, how precisely the two of them fit together, and how intimately he understood her without even trying.
How had she gone her whole life without him?
"You know, sometimes their individual voices are clear, but sometimes they're all at once. Kind of like... The best way I can explain it is, you know, when you would leave the windows in your house open on a summer day? And you could hear people outside just...talking and going about their business, but it all blended together into white noise?"
"Of course," Eugene replied. "Sometimes your mind just leaves the windows open."
She smiled. Eugene cocked his head.
"What?"
"I want to marry you so bad, Eugene Porter."
"Oh." A blush crept into his cheeks. He ducked his head shyly, clearly not expecting this answer. "Well, I...I want to marry you, too, Mason Reynolds. All things being equal, I have dreamed of that that since... Uhm, never mind."
"Wait, wait, no, that's not how this works," Mason protested. "Since when?"
His blush deepened. "Since the library."
Mason blinked and realized that she was blushing, too. "Really?"
"Yes."
She thought of that night- getting high with him and talking about the most ridiculous shit, laughing until her stomach hurt, risking their lives just to go stargazing.
Singing for the first time since losing the prison, because he had inspired that in her. He had inspired her to come alive again.
Abruptly she grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him, anxious to convey exactly how she felt in that moment. His lips were passionate but gentle against her own, and she knew he understood.
"So," she finally breathed, bumping her nose against his. "What's the hold up?"
He laughed. "Waiting for the right time."
"I can think of at least a dozen off the top of my head."
"You're just impatient. I want it to be perfect. I want it to take you by surprise like you took me by surprise."
She melted a little. "So you want it to jump out of a cornfield covered in blood and swinging a fire iron?"
"Exactly that sentiment, just maybe without the blood."
"I bet I beat you to it."
Slowly his eyes narrowed. "Is that a challenge, Miss Reynolds?"
"You heard me say 'I bet', didn't you?"
"Alright, you're on. First one to propose wins."
"Wins what?"
"A pretty rock," he said with smirk.
"I love how clever you think you are."
They cuddled closer and lapsed into companionable silence for a while, relishing the sound of each other's heartbeats. But after a while, Mason frowned.
"Hey," she said. "When we were in the munitions factory, you had this look on your face. Like you'd seen a ghost or something."
She felt him stiffen just slightly, but his voice was calm when he replied, "I told you. I was just remembering something."
"Well, remembering what? Because you looked...I don't know." She didn't know why she was pushing it, only that the darkness she'd seen behind his eyes had pricked at her no matter how hard she tried to dismiss it.
He sighed. "Mason, I don't think... It was just a passing memory."
"Then why are you trying so hard not to talk about it?"
He was quiet for a moment, and then he pressed his nose to the top her head. His breath warmed her, but the words he spoke next chilled her to the bone.
"That was the room where I decided I was going to die...and the room where I decided not to."
Her heart slowed to a standstill.
"What...what are you talking about?" she whispered.
"After you and Daryl were taken, I was...consumed. Equal parts rage and guilt. I didn't have a plan. I knew I was going to make my bullet and I knew I was going to get into that compound no matter the cost because you were in there, and I was either going to break you out or die trying. But it was a suicide mission, and I knew that as surely as I knew the sun was going to set in the west. I was...I wanted to die. After that night."
Mason closed her eyes, trembling a little. Because she'd been there before, more than once. And imagining Eugene in that same dark place, in that much pain... It was intolerable.
"Dying is not my greatest fear anymore," he continued. "Because there are things worth that, there are things worth giving your last breath to. But dying for nothing? I will not be doing that. When I die, it is going to serve a purpose."
"I don't like this conversation," Mason said uneasily.
His arms tightened around her. "My sincerest apologies, May. But you...you wanted to know."
"I know, but..." She burrowed her face in his chest until she could feel his heartbeat against her nose. "You're not going to die, okay? We promised each other."
"Okay," he murmured. "Now it would probably be wise to try get some sleep."
She nodded, breathing in the smell of him. But his confession had left a sour feeling in her stomach, and though she eventually managed a tentative unconsciousness, her anxiety followed her there.