Hey, guys, finally finished this chapter and it's sort of a little bit all over the place but hopefully ya'll enjoy it. The chapter song is "In the Hall of the Mountain King", which if you don't know by it's title you would definitely know by its sound. It was originally an orchestral piece by Edvard Grieg, but the version I used as inspiration is a cover by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, and it just. fits. perfectly. (Also we have a little bit of Journey action going on in this one, because why the hell not lol) Thank you guys for the reviews and support, I know I say it all the time, but ya'll are the real MVPs. (Also, lindir's gaze hell YES Rocket Raccoon is the literal best and also the reason I didn't cry the whole time through Infinity War...but we won't talk about that lol) Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it, please let me know what you think!
11. In the Hall of the Mountain King
Mason
"So there he was, right in the taint of battle, just throwing motherfuckers left and right. It was stunning. Like, he was just all-"
"I'm sorry, did you just say 'the taint of battle'?"
"Yeah. You know, like between the asshole and the-"
"I know what a fucking taint is."
"Yeah, so anyway, he fucking sideswipes this guy and then..."
Mason rolled her eyes as Dave continued his story, but secretly she was pleased. For the third time, the Misfits had asked him to chronicle the tale of Eugene jumping in to help Dray and Charlie, and its appeal only seemed to grow with each retelling.
Eugene himself sat squished between Tanner and Charlie, somehow looking both thoroughly content and thoroughly embarrassed. It had been demanded of him that he teach them all redirection techniques, and he'd agreed, though he'd been quick to explain that he was not an expert.
"To be quite candid, I really just adopted techniques from aikido and molded them to fit my needs," he'd said. "But the science and physicality behind that way of fighting is fascinating."
Mason sat on the couch opposite him, Daryl huddled up against her side. He'd taken to clinging either to her or Eugene whenever the others were around, so much like a feral animal that it hurt sometimes to look at him. His hand rested in hers; she drew soothing circles on his wrist with her thumb, but his pulse remained erratic.
Eventually he brushed his head earnestly against her shoulder. "I'm goin' back to the bedroom," he murmured.
"Do you need some company?" she whispered back.
He shrugged. "Sure."
Casting a quick, meaningful glance at Eugene- whose eyes darkened a bit with concern- she got up to follow Daryl back to Ashlee's room.
He sat on the floor again, in the nest he'd burrowed for himself out of Ashlee's mess. Mason sat on the bed, unsure of whether he needed space now or not. They were silent for a while, Daryl staring up at the ceiling, Mason fiddling with the frayed end of a blanket.
"Negan got Sherry pregnant."
Though Daryl's voice was quiet, Mason jolted as though he'd shouted. Her jaw dropped, horror creeping through her veins the way winter stole over the mountain.
"He what?"
"She miscarried, but...yeah. She had a hard time with it. She didn't want to feel glad about such a shitty thing, you know? She wants kids, just..."
He didn't have to finish.
Not with Negan. Not for Negan.
"I tried to be there for her. As much as I could, you know, trapped in a cement block. When she came to see me, she'd just...cry. After Negan made Dwight his second, and after...after you...Sherry wasn't able to see Dwight so much."
After you.
Right. Because she'd played her part so well, Negan had thought she was devoted to him.
And Sherry suffered for it.
Mason closed her eyes.
"Stop," Daryl said, and she blinked to find him watching her sternly. "I know what you're doin'. I ain't tellin' you this so you can go getting your feelings in a twist."
She scowled. "Stop assuming you know me."
"You're right, I don't know shit. You're a total stranger."
He smiled a little then, the first real one she'd seen in what felt like an eternity. She smiled, too.
Then he sighed. "When she came to tell me about it, you know...it was this horrible thing. But at first all I could think was that that could have been you. So easily."
Her blood chilled at the thought. Not just about carrying Negan's hellspawn, but...getting pregnant at all. It terrified her. If she thought too long about it, it was hard to breathe.
Daryl nodded like he could read all this in her face. "I'd never been more glad that you had gotten out than that moment."
Mason shivered. It was selfish to be grateful, too, but there it was. One relieved little spark, and then she felt guilty about that.
"Does Eugene know?" Daryl asked, clearly eager to steer the conversation away from Sherry. "That you don't want kids?"
"He knows."
"He doesn't want 'em either?"
"No. We talked about it, after we first, um, got together. Between you and me, I think he'd make a really terrific dad, and I think if I changed my mind he'd be willing to try, but..."
She trailed off, unwilling to reveal, even with Daryl, what Eugene had shared in confidence. That he was terrified of screwing anything up, terrified of passing on the darkness in himself to a child.
"And, I confess, I...I'd like you all to myself," he'd told her. "You're the greatest thing ever. I can't imagine ever loving or wanting anything else."
Which had made it easy to come to an agreement on the matter.
"It's not in the cards," she finished. "Besides, I think I have enough kids to keep an eye on."
Daryl snorted. "Guess you do. I mean, they're all like the same age as you, but, yeah."
"But I'm clearly the most mature one here, so..."
"Still just as hilarious as I remember. Know what else is hilarious? My brother lost his right hand, too." Daryl examined his stump with an expression that suggested he didn't think it was very hilarious at all. "If he were around, he'd have the Saviors runnin' scared."
Mason shook her head. "No. Negan would have executed him by now. Don't tell me he picked Abraham at random. It was tactical."
"He shoulda killed us."
There was that fire again, sparking in his blue eyes. And in its cage, her own fire echoed back his anger.
"Yeah, he probably should've," she said.
"When do you think we'll go back to Alexandria?"
Mason hesitated. Yesterday they'd taken Daryl to see the Safe Zone, which was still burning. Half of the buildings were devastated. There would be nothing left of them to salvage, though Mason had doubted there ever would have been.
Daryl had said nothing, just stood there at the threshold of the gate and watched the flames for an hour. Then, equally as silently, he'd turned around and climbed back into the truck. Eugene had promised that once the blaze was dead, they would return to see if there was anything to scavenge.
But...
That wasn't what Daryl was asking. Not exactly.
"I don't know," she murmured. "That's up to the fire."
~m~
"How is he?" Eugene asked, leaning against the wall next to Mason while they watched the Misfits train.
Mason stifled a sigh. "I don't know. He's..." Like I was. "He keeps dancing around how he's really feeling."
"Can't say I'm surprised. He was always like you that way."
She grimaced. "Then I guess we'll need to keep him away from Tanner for a while."
He chuckled. "That would probably be wise."
"Stop talking about me!" Tanner hollered, slamming Dray onto the floor.
"Oh, fuck you, dude," Dray grunted.
"By the way, where's that redirection lesson, huh? Thought that was forthcoming."
Eugene pursed his lips and nodded. "I suppose now is as good a time as any. Mason? Would you like to help me demonstrate?"
She frowned. "This is gonna be revenge for all those times I knocked you on your ass, isn't it?"
"Oh, of course not, May." His eyes gleamed mischievously.
Grumbling under her breath, she followed him reluctantly to the center of the room. The Misfits trudged wearily out of their way, passing around water bottles and granola bars, chattering in anticipation.
Eugene faced her with a look that was too innocent. "Alright. Attack me."
She narrowed her eyes and did as asked. But the punch she threw never landed, or at least not where she intended. His arm came up, not to block the attack, but to send it back her way. Her own fist caught her in the chin.
She stared at him in shock for a moment. His eyes glittered- a clear challenge.
So she came at him again, littering him with punches.
All of which never landed.
Because he moved in time with her, not just matching each blow, not just blocking them, but diverting them. After a few seconds she felt horribly off balance, as though she were on the defensive, and then, out of nowhere-
She was on her ass, blinking in comical bewilderment.
The Misfits cheered.
So did the voices, Abraham among the loudest.
"Ya'll are way too delighted to witness my downfall," she growled, taking the hand Eugene offered and letting him pull her to her feet.
"Oh my god, you fucking have to teach me!" Tanner said.
"Ooh, me, too!" Dave agreed, bouncing up and down. "I wanna take down the queen!"
"Hey!"
"Sorry, Mason."
Eugene grinned. "Aikido is principally a way of unifying with life energy. It is, admittedly, a martial art that practices peace, so the manner in which I have adopted it is not quite a true interpretation. But redirection will quickly take an attacker off guard and- Well, you can think of it as a way of energy efficiency."
He motioned to Mason to attack him again, who did so with a groan. This time she tried sweeping Eugene's legs from under him, but he stepped back into her movement, half-turning to knock his arm against her shoulder. It wasn't a terribly forceful blow, but she was already so unsteady that she went sprawling.
"You're pulling your punches," Charlie drawled.
"And yet I still sent her to the floor," Eugene replied. "Why? Because I shifted her kinetic energy, used that to my advantage without expending a surplus of my own."
He hooked his hands under Mason's arms and lifted her up; she looked up as he did, her head lolling against his chest.
"Hey," she whispered.
"What?" he whispered back.
"You suck."
He laughed and kissed her forehead. "Monster."
"Dick."
"Monster dick?"
"Shut the hell up and pick a new guinea pig."
~m~
Dwight arrived late at the rendezvous point. Mason tried not to feel sorry for him as he approached, but it was a struggle. He was haggard with exhaustion, his eyes red and rimmed with shadows, his hair matted. He was smeared with soot and walker blood, as if he hadn't had a chance to clean up after the attack on the compound.
He gave them an approximation of a smile, holding his hands in the air while Dave and Tanner patted him down. "Morning."
"Howdy," Eugene replied flatly.
Satisfied that he had no weapons on him aside from the knife at his belt, Tanner and Dave stepped back, cradling their own guns with casual menace.
Dwight's gaze flickered to Daryl, and his expression became more genuine. "Hey."
Daryl dipped his head in greeting. "Ya'll alright?"
"It's definitely not peaches and cream, but we're managing." Dwight glanced back at Eugene and Mason. "So where's the rest of your crew? I thought there were more of them."
Only Daryl, Tanner and Dave were visible. The rest of the Misfits were hidden in trees with guns and arrows, keeping watch for any sign of an ambush. But they weren't about to tell him that.
When nobody answered, Dwight nodded. "Okay."
"How many are left?" Mason asked, trying to emulate Eugene's perfect poker face.
"Fifty-seven. That's not counting the ones at the outposts, but...that brings his numbers down to about two hundred."
"Where are they stationed now?"
Dave and Tanner tensed as Dwight reached into his pocket, but all he pulled out was a folded piece of paper.
"This is a list of all the outposts, their locations and their numbers," he said, handing the paper to Mason. "We're scattered right now until Negan decides where it is we'll live. The highest population is in the ghost town where your people are."
"Why do you not just reside there?" Eugene asked.
"It's exposed, it doesn't have a barrier, and after how you guys used the deadwall..." Dwight shrugged. "He's weighing his options. There's a possibility he might take another community... Which reminds me, who in the hell turned Alexandria into a hibachi? A few of us went by there yesterday, saw it burning its way into oblivion."
He eyed them carefully- trying to take them by surprise so he could feel out their response.
But Eugene was impassive as he spoke. "It's as much of a mind-boggler to us. Could have been a happy accident for all we know."
Dwight smiled a bit. "Yeah, I kinda doubt that, but alright."
And Mason couldn't help feeling a twinge of grim satisfaction. Her home was gone, but Negan couldn't have it, either.
"What other communities would he consider taking?" Eugene asked.
"He's narrowed it down to the Hilltop and the Kingdom."
Mason and Eugene exchanged a glance. The Kingdom again, something they'd only ever heard mentioned a few times in the compound.
"Negan never told you about that one, did he?" Smugness colored Dwight's tone. "The Kingdom's a community south of here. Been playing ball for a while, but Ezekiel- the leader; they call him King- he's never liked Negan. They have a pretty nice set-up."
A man whose community called him King? Mason narrowed her eyes. Arrogance like that was dangerous.
Eugene, however, looked contemplative. "Would they fight back if incurred upon?"
"They didn't when we made them kneel the first time."
"Yes, but they were also guaranteed to keep their home and half of their things."
"Negan wouldn't kick them out if we moved in."
"No, they'd just have to live right under his nose twenty-four seven," Mason growled. "I don't know about you, but I know which option I'd go with."
Dwight stared at her for a moment before nodding. "Guess you have a point."
She held up the paper. "Look, thanks for this. Really. The risks you're taking...they're not easy."
"Neither are yours, so...thank you."
It was tentative, awkward, but the sense of comradeship was there all the same. Out of nowhere, Mason found herself missing AJ.
"When would it be possible for you to meet us again?" Eugene asked.
Dwight sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. It was all I could do to get away today. My leash is pretty tight at the moment."
"What about Sherry?" Mason suggested.
His eyes darkened. "Do you know what would happen if she was caught?"
"I don't know, maybe the same thing that would've happened if she'd been caught stealing the key to Daryl's cell?" She glared at him. "I know the risks, Dwight. She would want to take them. She'd want to help. If you can't trust anyone else, it has to be her."
"She's right," Daryl murmured. "Sherry ain't satisfied with kneeling. Not anymore."
For a moment, the tension that crackled between the two men startled Mason. She blinked, half-expecting Dwight to attack Daryl. But after a long pause, Dwight just moved his head in what might have been a nod.
"If I can't come, Sherry will meet you here in three days. Keep your eyes open," he added. "I'm doing all I can to keep your identities secret, but unless you plan on wearing disguises I'd make sure to kill every Savior who sees you."
"Yes, we'd already factored that in, thanks," Eugene said coolly.
"Just trying to help, friend."
Yeah, there was no way they were ever going to like each other.
Dwight wished them luck before leaving. They stayed in a tight formation until he'd disappeared among the foliage. Once he was gone, the other Misfits emerged from their hiding places.
"Guy rubs me the wrong way," Charlie said.
"He's a douche," Tanner agreed.
"Takes one to know one," Mason said.
"Watch it, Reynolds."
"So where do we head first?" Renee asked.
Mason opened the paper and everyone gathered around to read.
Alpha
She wasn't great at sewing, but she wasn't terrible. It wasn't as though she needed to do much anyway, aside from a few inner pockets and the buttons, of course. She had to make the fabric paint herself, but that was the easy part. She and Mason had learned the process when they'd made their own t-shirts for a Knife Party concert.
While she worked, she listened to the methodical sounds of Murph tooling away in his workshop. All but one of his patients were dead, his findings slim. She knew he would be pushing soon to make another trip to the hospital, but the one with the supplies he needed was several cities away and things were just getting interesting here.
When she was done, she examined the cloaks- one for the Reaper and one for the Chemist.
She hoped the Chemist would get good use out of it. She really did.
Because in the end, she intended that cloak for herself.
Mason
Seven men, gathered around a campfire.
It was too fucking easy.
There were booby traps set up around the site, but Eugene detected each one and Dray helped him disarm them.
Mason led Tanner, Ashlee and Renee into the camp while Eugene and the others kept watch. Just in case the simplicity was a lure. But though the men were clearly on edge, they were not the bait in a trap. Their eyes were wide with surprise, which quickly turned to horror, as Mason and her crew leapt out of the darkness and began slaughtering them. Really, they could have picked them off with arrows or bullets and it would have been effortless, but Mason wanted the Misfits to practice their hand-to-hand.
All of the Saviors recognized Mason. It made her skin crawl.
They interrogated no one, let no one live. She was intensely proud of her Misfits, who handled the whole thing quite well considering Tanner and Renee had only ever killed a handful of people, and Ashlee none.
They stripped the bodies of their weapons and anything else useful, took all the food from the campsite and loaded it into the truck. Then they loaded the bodies into the trailer.
They'd left the brains intact. The Saviors would come in handy once they turned.
Use everything you could use.
~m~
They found the package on their run the next morning.
Mason was leading the pack, so absorbed in her music that she almost missed it. But a ray of newborn sunlight caught the edge of the trash bag, folded so neatly and sat up against a tree like it was waiting for someone.
She pulled to a halt, holding up a quick silent signal.
Red.
Everyone went on alert immediately, clustering together back to back and drawing their weapons. Side by side, Mason and Eugene approached the package. She saw no evidence that it was a snare or an ambush, but her heart beat slow and steady with readiness.
Mason flashed a signal at Eugene: quality assurance. Then she poked the bag with her fire poker.
It fell over. Nothing happened. Cautiously, Mason picked it up and opened it.
She blinked in confusion at first, running her hand over the fabric inside. There was a letter on top; Eugene plucked it out and read it aloud to the Misfits who had huddled around them.
"'A gift, for the vigilantes of the apocalypse. For the Chemist and the Reaper. From a friend.'"
"Who the hell are they?" Dave asked as Mason pulled the fabric from the bag- cloaks, she realized, durable and hooded, one of black and one of darkest blue.
"Who the hell do you think?" Tanner replied, smacking his hand against Eugene's shoulder. "Chemist."
"Yeah, okay, but...the Reaper?"
Mason held her breath.
You're a goddamn reaper, doll.
"It's me," she whispered. Everyone looked at her. "I'm...the Reaper."
After a moment, Tanner grinned. "Of course you are. Who else is ruthless enough to be?"
But she was too horrified to be flattered. "He said that," she breathed, and then she looked up, her eyes darting to Eugene's. Instinctively reaching out for him as the memory overwhelmed her. "He called me that."
Eugene frowned. "But this isn't...this isn't from him."
"Who the fuck else would know what he said? It was just us."
"Out in the woods, right? Anyone could have been listening."
Her mounting paranoia halted. "Your friend," she said. "The one who opened the gate that night."
Eugene nodded. "I think it has to be, right? It's even the same slapdash handwriting."
Suddenly she felt foolish for overreacting, but Eugene just smiled softly and gave her a brief silent signal: quality assurance.
"It's not just the cloaks, guys," Renee said, reaching into the bag to pull out two motorcycle scarves. Both black, both with matching skeleton mouths on the front.
"Huh," Tanner said and then motioned impatiently to Mason and Eugene. "Well, let's see it, then."
"Which cloak is which, though?" Dave wondered.
"Kinda doubt that matters-"
"No, it does. Look," Ashlee said, pointing to a design painted on the back of the blue cloak. A complex red swirl. A flame.
And on the back of the black cloak, a jagged scythe stood out in bone-white.
Exchanging a glance, Mason and Eugene donned their respective cloaks and wrapped the motorcycle scarves around the lower halves of their faces. With the hood pulled up, Mason felt shadowed, secure.
But the Misfits stared at them, eyes wide. After a moment, she and Eugene began to fidget.
"Well?" she growled.
"You two look terrifying," Dave said. "It's fucking perfect. Oh my god, I have goosebumps."
Mason rolled her eyes, but Dray nodded in agreement. "You two look like you're about to ring in the apocalypse. You know, if it hadn't already happened."
So she glanced at Eugene, and... Fuck, he looked fearsome. Formidable. Only his eyes- blinking in awe at her own appearance- gave away the fact that he wasn't, in fact, a specter straight from the abyss.
And then Charlie said, "Horsemen of the apocalypse."
Her eyes glittered with meaning as she regarded Mason, who was remembering the day Charlie had shown her the hiding places for their weapons. Who had showed her the gimmick knife, and how the men on her block had thought twice when they'd seen it on her belt.
Sometimes all it takes is a little bit of dressing up to turn a dark horse into the Fourth Horseman.
She laughed a little, just one breathless huff. "It's strategy," she said. "Not just to hide our identities from the Saviors, but to scare them."
"Give 'em something to look over their shoulder for. Something to talk about in dark places," Charlie added.
"Mind games," Eugene said, his voice bright with cunning excitement.
Mason grinned, her blood surging.
"We'll be like fucking boogeymen in this bitch."
~m~
The ascendancy of the vigilantes officially began the next night, when they went to the next location on the list. There were twelve men at this site, which was no more than a campfire in the middle of a triangle of trucks.
The Misfits had a multitude of options at their disposal- fire, bomb arrows, walkers. But they decided on the more intimate route, partly because they wanted the Saviors in one piece and partly because they were anxious to lay the groundwork for their new fear tactic.
Eugene led the pack this time- Dray, Charlie and Dave, while Mason and the others kept watch outside. Though half of her attention was trained on the woods surrounding them, she couldn't help taking notes on the way the three newbies fought. Couldn't help noticing the way Dray and Charlie fought together, like they'd been doing it for years. And though as a whole their movements weren't quite as streamlined as Renee, Tanner or Ashlee, they still did very well.
By the end, there were eleven dead bodies- all of them salvageable time bombs just waiting to turn. The twelfth man they left alive, his arm pinned to the tire of a truck with one of Eugene's arrows.
Charlie leaned down to press her gimmick knife to his throat, and indeed he paled at the sight of it.
"The Reaper has decided to spare your life," she said, at the same moment that Mason stepped into view. Just like Eugene, she was fully decked out in her new disguise. She'd left her fire poker behind- too recognizable- and she didn't speak, in case the Saviors somehow also remembered her voice.
It would be enough for Negan to wonder whether or not it was her, to think himself crazy for considering it. Confirming it for him would ruin the fun.
Charlie knocked the man out once he'd gotten an eyeful of Mason. No one bothered to pull the arrow from his arm. Ashlee stood guard over him while the others loaded the bodies into the trailer.
Daryl waited in the back of the truck, hunched on the edge of the tailgate and glaring at the ground as though it had personally wronged him. When he spotted Mason, however, the full force of that glare turned on her.
She sighed, removing the scarf from her mouth so he could understand her better. "Stop giving me that look."
"Stop treating me like a casualty. I ain't some fragile thing you need to protect."
She pinched his knee, making him jump. "Yes, you are, and I'm gonna protect you whether you like it or not."
"I'm serious, Mason."
"So am I. You're still not in any shape to go plunging your grumpy ass into battle."
"She's right," Renee said, coming up behind her.
Daryl scowled. "I'll decide what I'm in shape for."
"No, you won't," Renee replied, her tone so biting that Mason flinched. "Do you have a nursing degree? Did you spend six years toiling after ungrateful shits like yourself who thought they could tell me how to do my job to get that degree? No? Then you don't decide. You're better when I say you're better. Got it?"
Mason stared, wide-eyed, between them, prepared to jump in if necessary but kind of wishing she was anywhere else.
To her shock, however, Daryl looked down and mumbled, "Yes, ma'am."
Renee nodded briskly. "Good. I think we're ready to head back now."
Mason saluted her. "Yes, ma'am."
With a soft snort, Renee tugged playfully on Mason's hair and climbed into the cab of the truck. Mason hopped onto the tailgate with Daryl and waited a few seconds before making chicken noises.
"Hey, I dare you to cross her," Daryl muttered.
"No way, I prefer my organs where they are."
Dave, Ashlee, Dray and Eugene sat with them in the back of the truck. Dave and Dray chattered animatedly about some TV show she'd never heard of. Eugene and Ashlee argued over which Star Wars movie was the best. Daryl leaned his head over the side of the truck, eyes closed as the wind played through his hair. Mason watched him, a quiet weight settling in her stomach.
Almost three months in a cement cell. Three months in the dark, without a breath of the outside world.
She had been in that dark with him. She had promised to stay by his side.
Calm your tits, girl. My baby brother's right. Ya'll had to get out.
You know, every time I hear that I feel so much better, thanks!
He dreamed of you. And when he didn't dream of you, he dreamed of Eugene. Ya'll were the reason he stayed sane in that place.
Something caught in her throat. You can't know that, she thought. You're just a voice in my head.
Maybe. But he knew he was gonna be free one day. And he knew it was gonna be because of you. So quit your whinin'.
And because Merle said it, because he was Daryl's brother, she believed it.
~m~
"Hey, Dave, dinner's-"
Mason broke off at the sight of Dave, hunched in a ball on the edge of his bed. He jumped when she spoke, wiping frantically at his eyes, which were red and puffy with tears.
"-ready."
"Oh, shit, yeah," he rasped. "Sorry. I'll-I'll be out in a second."
He threw her what might have been a grin and looked away just as quickly, sniffling.
Mason frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, it's nothing, just thinking about the plight of the honeybees. You know, they pollinated for us without a second thought and we tried to kill them off. Super huge dick move on our part, but now they're free to pollinate as they please and I guess it's kind of poetic justice. I just get really emotional about benevolent insects."
"I don't think you could be more full of shit if you tried."
Dave huffed. "Well, maybe I'm not trying to convince you why I'm crying, maybe I'm just hoping you'll take the hint and leave."
A bad night. This was a bad night for his usual sunshine to have slipped so much. Dave never snapped at anyone. She couldn't leave him to fight whatever was wrong by himself.
She sat next to him on the bed. "If you think I'm leaving now, you're crazy," she said gently.
The tears started up again as he ground his teeth. "Goddammit, Mason, you don't...you wouldn't get it, okay?"
"What wouldn't I get?"
"You're good at this shit. I see you when you fight, you relish it. I'm not... I befriended my bullies, okay? If someone stole my lunch money, I'd offer to buy them dessert. And maybe that made me a pushover but that's how I dealt with it, that's how I made friends, and I just can't..."
His eyes squeezed shut. Tears rolled down to his chin, catching in the divots of the cuts on his face.
"Look, I'm not saying that...I think we shouldn't be doing this. I know we should. I know we have to. But the other night- that man, the first person I've ever killed... I mean, he had to die, I know that, and I know the Saviors are horrible fucking people but I can't get his face out of my head, it's just there. Every damn minute since then, I can't...stop..."
Mason ached with sorrow. "Dave..."
"I'm never gonna come back from that," he said. "This is a part of me now. This is..."
He dissolved into sobs then and Mason quickly wrapped her arms around him, pulling him against her chest. His hands clutched at her back, digging in so tight it hurt, but she didn't care.
"I'm sorry," she said. Her voice was thick, choked with grief at what she knew very well he had lost. "Dave, I'm so sorry."
It was a while before he cried himself out. His face stayed buried in her neck the whole time, his grip on her never loosening, even when the tears trailed away into sniffles.
"Thanks for letting me snot all over you," he finally murmured. His voice was still heavy with remorse, heavy with the new weight he would carry for the rest of his life. But he didn't sound quite so close to losing it.
She smiled a little. "It's no problem, I double as a handkerchief."
Dave let out a broken sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and bumped his head against her shoulder. "You're such a good mom, Mason."
A blush colored her cheeks. "O-oh, well. Uhm." She coughed shyly. "I don't know about that, but...thanks. Now, you think you're ready to eat? Your food's probably getting cold."
"Sounds like something a mom would say..."
"Oh my god. Come on, before I ground you."
Mason got to her feet, waiting patiently while Dave cleaned his face.
"And, you know, I do understand," she said after a moment. He looked at her doubtfully but she persisted. "I'm used to this life. And I relish it, yeah, when it's someone I know deserves it. But it was hard for me, too, at first. It's a grueling thing, taking a life for the first time, even if it was the right thing, even if you wouldn't take it back. Whenever you need to talk, or cry, or whatever, I'm here, okay? Always."
Dave smiled, his eyes still swimming a bit.
"Yes, Mom."
~m~
"And, see, in here I carved out notches so that the attachments will stay in place under impact or strain," Eugene said, holding the base of Daryl's new "hand" out for Daryl and Mason to examine. "Obviously and unfortunately it is not a true prosthetic, but I think by providing several different auxiliary options it will get you by. When the war is over I intend to search every available hospital for a workable artificial hand."
Daryl took the base tentatively, as though it were an injured bird. "Thank you," he murmured.
Eugene nodded. "Try it on. I may not have the fit exactly right. I would suggest putting something on underneath to cushion it- a sock would probably work best."
"A sock?"
"Yes. Ashlee could probably lend you a fashionable one."
Without a word, Daryl turned and stalked out of the room. When he was gone, Eugene sighed.
"I truly do not know how probable it is that I can find a replacement for him. I am ninety-nine percent certain that anything myoelectric is out of the question, which leaves a body-powered harness... All things being equal, that is probably the most economical route- they're more durable and he won't run into any of the glitches a battery-reliant prosthetic would bring to the table."
"If we couldn't find one," Mason said slowly, "could you make one?"
"Maybe," he said. "With time. And the appropriate materials. I certainly couldn't do it now, but... Daryl's chomping at the bit to fight. What I've built for him will allow him to."
She grimaced and might have said more, but at that moment Daryl returned, looking grumpier than usual and sporting a Gryffindor sock on his right arm.
Mason snorted, trying in vain to disguise it as a cough when Daryl threw her a vicious glare. Eugene had only slightly more restraint, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Nice choice," he said.
"It was either this or the rainbow sequined one."
"Aww, man, rainbow sequins?" Mason whined.
Daryl snorted. "Why don't you wear 'em?"
"Oh, I'm gonna. I'm gonna rock that shit."
Daryl slid the base onto his wrist, turning it left and right thoughtfully. "It's a little tight," he said.
"That's good. Easier to shave the size down," Eugene said, handing over the first attachment. "I would imagine the hook will be the one you rely on most heavily. Not only is it a handy weapon- no pun intended-"
"Oh my god..."
"-but with practice it can function in ways similar to fingers."
When the hook was secure, Mason grinned. "Well, doesn't that just water your crops."
"It is going to take a lot of practice to master your movements," Eugene warned. "But I will work with you every day. We will get it down."
Daryl nodded, unable to look at Eugene, and Mason recognized his quietness for the gratitude that it was, for all the things he didn't know how to say.
"Now, I have two more attachments- one specifically for combat, and one for... Well, I intended it to assist with opening things, but the finished product also doubles as a blade sharpener, which I personally think is pretty rad..."
Mason stood back to watch while Eugene and Daryl went over the different fittings. Even now, it never failed to astound her how close the two had become, and how lucky they were to have each other.
How lucky she was to have them.
~m~
The meeting with Sherry mostly consisted of her and Mason hugging each other and crying. She didn't have much to report on her end, though what little she did was supremely satisfying.
"Negan's trying to stamp it out, but the whole community's buzzing with this Reaper business," she'd said. "No one but himself and a few bruisers are allowed in to see your people, so...I'd guess he's wondering if it's you guys. Of course, he's also still convinced the Kingdom had something to do with Alexandria getting their guns back, so there's a good possibility he thinks it's them, too. He's paying them a visit but he won't tell anybody when. You've really got him on edge."
Mason had nearly burst out of her skin with joy. She hoped he would remember the feeling. She hoped it would haunt him the rest of his life- which she intended to make very short and very painful.
"I do, however, happen to know that there is going to be a scouting party headed west in two days, and I only know that because Dwight's leading it. You guys can arrive at the camp ahead of them, make whatever preparations you want. Interested?"
The answer had been a resounding yes, especially from Daryl. Renee had finally given him the green light to go on missions so long as he stopped should his strength fail him.
Mason, of course, knew he wouldn't be doing so and had taken it upon herself to watch him like a hawk.
She sat next to him now in the back of the truck, waiting for Eugene to give them the go-ahead.
After a while, Daryl nodded to the necklace she wore. "That was Abraham's, wasn't it?"
Mason fingered the little red pendant, the one that had once belonged to Abraham. Eugene had given it to her a few months back and now they both had something to remember him by; he wore Abraham's gloves for every mission.
"Sasha and Rosita couldn't...you know. And it was..." She trailed off for a moment, swallowing the familiar burn of loss. "I just miss him, you know?"
"Yeah."
You ain't gotta miss me, girlie, I'm right here.
"Hey, you sure you're up for this?" she said, stifling the urge to grind her teeth. "I mean, you haven't had a lot of time to practice with-"
"I'm fine," Daryl snapped. "I told you. Been practicing using my left hand."
"Oh, have you?" Mason replied, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
He tried to glare at her a moment longer but in the end he snorted. "Stop."
Suddenly the walkie talkie on Mason's belt crackled to life. "We're ready for you," Eugene said.
"Coolioz," Mason told him, switched off her walkie and hopped down from the truck. "Come on, Mr. Dixon, time to fuck shit up."
"Aye, aye, captain."
They crept through the dark toward the building where the Saviors had set up their camp. The Misfits had arrived hours earlier to see what they'd be working with, to draft out strategies in accordance with all the exits and hallways. If they were ready to set the plan in motion, that meant they'd been able to contact Dwight and key him in on the part he was to play.
A few yards from the building, Mason wrapped the scarf over her mouth and cowled her face with her hood. Daryl smiled a little at her appearance and she winked.
They were coming up on the north exit when they spotted the glow of the floodlights emanating from the windows. As they watched, that glow guttered frame by frame, sweeping from the south side of the building straight in their direction.
At that moment, Mason knew, Tanner, Dray, Charlie and Eugene were herding the men and locking them in what they'd decided to call the kill floor- a wide, empty room with only one exit and several easily removable ceiling tiles. That afternoon, she and Daryl and all the other Misfits had scraped off sections of the tar and gravel roofing for easy access. When the lights went out completely, a series of muffled crashes indicated that Ashlee, Renee and Dwight were right on schedule- hovering over the tiles they'd removed to bomb the room with glass bottles.
First, the bottles of bleach. Second, the bottles of ammonia.
The men started screaming as the chlorine gas filled the room. Daryl and Mason stood on either side of the door, far enough back that when it opened the fumes wouldn't reach them.
When it did open, the first man that stumbled out was clutching at his face, blistering from the chemical burns. Daryl shot him in the throat. Mason took down the next guy, Daryl the third, and back and forth they parried like this until six men lay on the ground. No one else ran out, and no sound came from inside. Mason and Daryl retreated from the open door.
They met up with the other Misfits by the south exit, the only other door leading in or out of the building. Dwight stood a little ways off, seeming unsure of whether or not he should be there.
"Holy shit, that was amazing!" Charlie exclaimed breathlessly, bouncing up and down in her exhilaration. "We need to fit in more chemical warfare, we just have to, it's way too badass."
Dray smiled, as though he regarded her lupine bloodlust more as kittenish charm. Not for the first time, Mason wondered if Charlie knew just how smitten he was with her.
"Perhaps it's time to reinstate my chemistry lessons," Eugene said, glancing between Charlie and Dray before rolling his eyes at Mason. She fought to hide her grin.
"So I guess it's my move now, right?" Dwight said, stepping forward.
Any trace of emotion was swept from Eugene's face. "Yes, and you're not going to like it."
"Yeah, I didn't figure I would."
Mason tried not to wince. The other Misfits fidgeted uncomfortably. They all knew the next part of the plan.
Dwight held his arms out in invitation, eyeing Eugene with resignation and dislike. "I'm not getting any older, frien-"
Eugene whirled forward, swinging his elbow up into Dwight's nose. Dwight went down with a hiss of pain; when he looked up, blood leaked down to his chin, staining his teeth.
"Thanks for not going for my dick."
Dray and Renee pulled him to his feet. He nodded in vague gratitude before spitting out a mouthful of blood.
"So," he said. "Where should we do this thing? I was thinking a tree, you know, would be easiest to pull myself out of-"
"I thought we weren't doing that," Dave interrupted, glancing from Eugene to Dwight with something like panic. "We don't have to do that."
But Eugene's eyes were cold, resolute as he stared at Dwight, whose expression was equally unwavering. The shared look of people who knew some things had to be done, no matter how unpleasant.
"It has to be believable," Eugene said.
"Don't worry about it," Dwight said to Dave. "If it keeps Negan in the dark about me, I really don't give a shit. It'll heal anyway."
So they watched as Dwight leaned his arm against a nearby tree, looking as casual as could be. Eugene readied his bow and nocked an arrow, but paused before firing.
"I will miss any major arteries but all the same I wouldn't pull the arrow out until you're in the doctor's office," he said. Then he let fly.
Dwight let out a shout as the arrow pinned his arm to the tree. Some of the Misfits gasped. Mason clenched her jaw to keep from making a sound.
"Fuck, that stings!"
Daryl and Eugene helped pry him from the tree, careful to leave the arrow in his arm to staunch the bleeding. Renee inspected it briefly to make sure that his artery remained intact, but Eugene's aim was as flawless as ever.
"Do you need us to drive you closer to the community?" he asked Dwight. There was no congeniality in his tone, but it wasn't as frigid as before either.
"Nah. We're just fifteen minutes out, I'm good. Negan's probably gonna want to keep me close to home after this, so Sherry'll meet you guys at the rendezvous point four days from now, okay?"
After he'd driven away, the others loaded the trailer with the six bodies outside while Mason and Eugene searched the ground for the spent bullet casings. It was easy enough; the gleam of their flashlights bounced eagerly off of the metal, tiny little beacons in the dark.
"So I know you think it would be wiser to keep our distance, but I really think we should reconsider contacting this Kingdom for assistance," he said while they perused the undergrowth.
Mason groaned. "Dude, we've been over this. It's way riskier gambling on a bunch of strangers than it is to go it alone."
"You said that about the Misfits."
"The Misfits weren't living under the boot of a tyrant."
"Mason, you and I both know that if we challenge the Saviors alone, it is going to take time. A lot of time and a lot of effort. These missions we've been going out on have only been so successful because we've been dealing with pockets of the Saviors' greater number."
"There were more of them tonight."
"Twenty. Negan still has two hundred back in his domain." His expression was beseeching, earnest. "We could really use a few extra hands here. We can only juggle so much."
Mason sighed. "Let's talk about this tomorrow, alright? It's been a long night. Besides, I have something else I'd like to discuss with you."
"What's that?"
Pulling one of the casings from her pocket, she got down on one knee and held it out to him.
"Eugene Porter," she said. "Will you be my ride or die?"
He didn't even hesitate. "Doesn't count."
"What?"
"It's not a ring. It's gotta be a ring."
"Since when?"
"Since always. We need rules for this thing or it won't be fair. Your problem is that you are far too competitive."
"Fuck you, I'm not competitive." She sniffed haughtily. "I just have to beat you at everything."
Eugene smirked and ruffled her hair. "Nice try, sport."
~m~
Two days later, Mason, Daryl and Eugene were out in the woods at the base of the mountain, working to acclimate Daryl to his makeshift hand. The rest of the Misfits remained behind at the house, partly to give Daryl some room. Being around anyone other than Mason or Eugene made him anxious, and considering how frustrating he found the acclimatization process, they figured he didn't need anymore stress.
Eugene was infinitely patient; without him, Daryl likely would have thrown his hook at a tree. As it was, he did slash a few trunks.
"Man, I'm fucking done withthis shit!" he shouted now, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.
"Let's take a break," Eugene suggested. "It's about lunchtime anyway."
"I ain't goin' back to that house."
"We don't have to. I thought we could hunt our lunch, like the good old days."
"Then here." Daryl strode over, bearing his crossbow, and shoved it into Eugene's hands. "I won't hit anything."
As they set out deeper into the woods, Mason let Eugene take the lead so she could walk next to Daryl.
"I don't wanna talk," he growled without looking at her.
"Okay. I don't really wanna talk either."
His eyes narrowed at her cheerful tone. "Mason..."
"But if I were to talk, I might say something like, oh, I don't know...it's only been a couple of days? And you're doing really well, despite what you think?"
"She would be right," Eugene said over his shoulder. "If she were, you know, to say those things."
Daryl huffed a sigh. "Hey, I appreciate what ya'll are trying to do, but-"
"You're just working hard to get your fill," Mason said in a tone heavy with allusion.
Eugene caught on immediately. "Everybody wants a thrill."
Her lips twitched. "Are they paying anything to roll the dice?"
"Guys-"
"Oh, yes, but just one more time."
"Guys-"
"So don't stop believin'," they chorused, ignoring Daryl's grimace. "Hold on to that feelin'."
"Jesus fucking-"
"Street lights! People!"
"You're idiots," Daryl growled, but a faint smile was blooming on his face.
Mason swung an arm over his shoulder. "We're your idiots. Also, next time we're singing Journey, I expect you to join in, because that's-"
Suddenly Eugene pulled to a halt, throwing them two silent signals in quick succession.
Quiet. Red.
Immediately they fell into their standard defensive position, shoulder to shoulder in a tight triangle. Mason wasn't sure at first what they were defending against until she heard a rustle in the trees to their right. Eugene aimed the crossbow toward the noise.
But a moment later he was lowering it, sagging back against Mason and Daryl. Not in a relaxed way, but as if something had knocked the breath from him. Slowly Mason turned, following his gaze.
The breath left her, too.
The figure that limped toward them, lowering the hood of her jacket, shook her head with an expression that was at once somehow surprised and not surprised at all.
"Rosita?" Mason whispered.
"I knew it," Rosita replied. "Only you guys would be singing 80's arena rock in the woods."
Then she shook her head again, eyes welling with tears, and closed the distance, arms wide as if to embrace them all at once.
So they let her, hugging her back just as fiercely, until Rosita finally stumbled. Favoring her right leg as though it was injured.
Mason frowned anxiously. "What's wrong?"
Rosita wiped the tears from her face. "It's a long story," she said. "I'll tell you ours if you tell us yours."
"Ours?" Eugene repeated.
From behind her, a second figure appeared, one they regarded with less delight.
"Hey, guys," Jesus said, seemingly unruffled by his cool reception.
"He's a friend," Rosita assured them. "And he's not the only one."
"You got some more hidin' in those trees back there?" Daryl asked.
But Rosita just smiled. "You should come with us," she said. And her face was lit up in a way it hadn't been since they were still living in Alexandria. As though she could barely contain her joy.
"There are some people who would really love to see you."
