I wanted to get this out over two weeks ago, but my depression's been kicking my ass lately. Like, I've genuinely been sleeping eighteen hours a day for the past few weeks. It's bad. But I thankfully have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. Anyway, sorry for the wait.
As a way to pass the time in between chapters, you guys can ask me stuff, or request headcanons/drabbles/au's about G&L on my tumblr. Ya know, if you want.
Elise Conner: Rosie O'Donnell
Ragged gasps of air puffed in and out of her lungs. She couldn't feel her fingers, or her legs that were pumping under her. In her right hand she held her red monkey wrench, and in her left she was gripping her car keys like brass knuckles.
Walkers slowly reached out to her, but she was running fast enough that they stood no chance.
In the back of her head, a voice told her to slow down, to pace yourself. And a few seconds later, she realized why.
A choked wheeze fell through her mouth, as she suddenly doubled over. Her chest, her heart, pumping and spasming erratically.
The Walkers noticed her pause, and she had to force herself forward to avoid getting mauled.
After swinging her wrench, and punching several Walkers in the decomposing faces, she finally spotted an open door.
Racing inside, and slamming the door shut behind her, Nye panted, sliding down the metal door.
She looked at the room around her, unable to make out anything, not even the size of the room, from the overwhelming darkness.
Then, she was hit with a concerning thought. She held her breath for a second, listening closely. She let out her breath, relaxing as she heard no evidence of another creature lurking in the pitch black room.
Listening as the Walkers banging on the door slowly trickled off, forgetting that a living person had took refuge inside, Nye sighed. A shaking hand slowly came up to her hair, finally noticing the lack of her goggles.
Her eyes closed, though it made no difference in the dark, and she tried thinking of when she lost them, and where they could be. But when her mind wandered to T-Dog's sacrifice, she blocked out anymore thoughts of the mayhem she could have lost them in.
And so, she sat, and waited.
No matter how much time passed, there was always moans and groans coming from outside, keeping her from exiting the room.
Before long, it felt like it had been hours. Whether it had been that, or simply minutes, Nye had no way of telling. The lack of sunlight was starting to distort her sense of time.
"So you think you can stop me and spit in my eyeee," She sang under her breath, quiet enough that the Walkers outside weren't encouraged to come banging on the door again.
"You think you can love me and leave me to dieee." It was the sixth time she was singing Bohemian Rhapsody, and that was even with long breaks in between.
Her singing trailed off, as a jaw popping yawn tore it's way out of her mouth. She blinked, trying to fight off the severe fatigue that had settled the longer she sat there. But she continued to try and stay awake, listening out for gunshots, or hopefully the sound of a crossbow bolt being fired.
"Jus' gotta get out, jus' gotta get right outta here..."
Without realizing it, she let her guard slip, eyes closing, and head resting on the wall. The bone deep exhaustion silently pulled her under a blanket of sleep.
"You've gotten good."
Nye's eyes snapped open. Her mouth slowly opened, as she looked around the room she was in.
It was no longer the void of pitch black that had surrounded her, but a brightly lit, and colorful apartment living-room.
"Wh-how..." She breathed, sitting up from a leather couch she was painfully familiar with.
"Your singing, I mean."
Nye spun around, eyes locking on the origin of the soft voice.
She knew who it was before she looked, she could never forget that voice. But that didn't stop the shocked breath that left her.
"P-Paul?"
The man standing across from her grinned, white teeth all but glowing behind that horrible mustache she always used to implore him to shave.
"In the flesh. Well, not quite." He joked, blue eyes twinkling with mirth.
Nye shook her head, eyes never leaving her best friend from the old world. "I-I don't get it, h-how are you here-How am I here!?"
He shrugged, walking along the living-room they used to share.
"I think, it's because you need some sense talked into you."
"W-what? That doesn't doesn't even make sense." She growled, wondering why, in the back of her head, this didn't feel right.
Paul gave her a tender look. "You didn't even notice, did you?"
"Notice what?"
Paul smiled, though he looked saddened by something.
"You're dreaming. I'm not really here."
Nye's face fell, and she shook her head in denial. "N-no, that's not right. Because you're right here, and we're talking-"
"And how is that possible? We haven't seen each other since the world ended." He reminded her gently.
Nye slowly sank back into the couch. "No, but..."
Paul came up next to her, slowly sitting down, and put a hand on her knee. "And we haven't lived in this apartment since you started fostering."
Nye stared down at his hand, as she was hit with reality.
"I looked for you, I swear I did-"
"I know."
"M-Mason and Toby, I didn't want them to worry, I told them you called me, and said you were safe."
Paul rubbed her knee. "But I didn't."
Nye shook her head, eyes welling up. "But you didn't."
He reached up, tilting her head up to look at him.
"C'mon Rocky, I need you to tell me why."
Her brows scrunched together in confusion. "What are you talking about? Why what?"
Paul gave her a probing look. "Tell me why I'm here."
Nye blinked, and for some reason, she suddenly felt a pull of dread in her stomach.
"I-I don't..."
Paul slowly stood, looking down at her, he gave her a look of understanding.
"I think you do know. You're just not letting yourself think about it."
Nye swallowed, for some unexplained reason, her throat closed up.
Paul looked at her, waiting for her response. When he didn't get one, he sighed, looking down at her in regret.
"I was hoping we could work through it. But it looks like it'll take more than me."
Nye watched, paralyzed as Paul walked to the door.
With his grip on the handle, he slowly looked over his shoulder.
She didn't like the apologetic look on his face.
"I'm sorry for what's about to happen. But know, that this is for your own good."
Nye shot up, opening her mouth, to ask for him to explain what this was, to demand to know what was about to happen, to beg for him to stay.
But he stepped through the door, looking back at her one last time, before the plank of wood cut between them.
As soon as the metal 'click' from the knob sounded, everything was plunged into darkness.
Nye blinked, feeling slightly out of breath.
"Well he seemed nice."
Nye's heart gave a painful squeeze.
"Yeah, I guess at this point we haven't gotten to know him yet, huh?"
Nye looked up, and despite the room still being plunged in darkness, she could see two forms, clear as day.
"This... this can't be real." She murmured.
Mason and Toby, both years younger than they were now, looked at each other in amusement, before looking back at her.
"Well, you're not dreaming anymore, so I guess you've gone crazy." The eight year old Mason said, looking exactly the same as the day he moved in with her.
"Hallucinations are normal for people with trauma, especially if they're dehydrated. Which she is." The eight year old Toby said, suddenly holding and looking through the encyclopedia he had brought with him when she had brought him home for the first time.
"Are crazy people allowed to foster kids?" Mason mused.
"Not crazy. Traumatized."
Nye sat up, still looking at them in disbelief. "I'm not traumatized." She halfheartedly argued, too shocked to actually get worked up.
Both boys simultaneously looked at her in chilling synchronization, raising challenging brows.
"Then where'd you get those scars?"
Nye recoiled, bringing her right arm up to her chest.
Both boys smirked, looking not unlike the Cheshire cat.
"Trauma-"
"-tized."
They sang together.
Nye flinched, looking between them warily. "This is wrong. Paul was normal, but you two, you seem-"
"Twisted?"
Nye gave a hesitant nod. And in the back of her head, she asked herself way she was handling this so calmly.
"That's 'cuz we are." Mason stated bluntly.
"We're not here to hold your hand and make you feel better like Paul, we're here to prepare you." Toby told her, not bothering to look up from his encyclopedia.
Nye shook her head, attempting to stand, but finding it strangely difficult. "Prepare for what?"
The two shared another look, before taking pity on her.
"We actually don't know ourselves." Mason said.
Nye tipped her head back. "What do you mean you don't know?!"
Toby gave a nonchalant shrug. "Things are kind of just happening. It's your fault, really."
Nye sat up straighter. "My fault? I don't even know what the fuck is going on!"
"Well we're your hallucinations, so yeah, your fault." Mason grumbled.
Toby sighed, standing. "All we do know, is that it's only going to get worse. Unless you tell us why we're here."
Nye growled, slamming her fist against the concrete, confused when she didn't hit it nearly as hard as she was trying.
"I don't know what that means!"
But then why did she feel a flicker of doubt when she said that?
Toby looked at her in disappointment, ushering Mason up.
"Guess it's on to the next then. Good luck." Toby waved to her, he and Mason walking into the darkness, and disappearing.
Nye closed her eyes, trying to make sense of all of this. But it didn't matter what angle she looked at it, everything still made no sense to her.
Especially not the weight settled in the bottom of her stomach, telling her she knew exactly what was going on.
...
Static. Buzzing. White-noise. That was all Toby could hear, after being given a grief-stricken look from Glenn, when he finally saw the goggles hanging off the redneck's belt.
At first, he didn't believe it. Or rather, he refused to believe it.
But if that was the case, than why was Mason clinging to him with everything he had?
Toby knew. He knew as soon as he saw the goggles. He just didn't want to believe it.
At some point, he and his brother fell to the ground, knees thumping down on the concrete painfully, but he couldn't care less. The two simply clinged to each other, trying to steady the other one's sobs.
Suddenly, the static was gone, letting Toby hear everything with startling quality.
"Let me see the baby."
"We got anythin' a baby can eat?"
At the sound of Daryl's voice, both boys instinctively looked up, almost expecting to hear Nye's voice respond with something sarcastic.
But it was Hershel's voice instead. "The good news is, she looks healthy. But she needs formula. And soon, or she won't survive." The former vet warned them.
Daryl shook his head, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder. "No, no way. Not her. We ain't losin' nobody else. I'm goin' for a run."
"I'll back you up." Maggie sniffled.
"I'll go too." Glenn immediately backed up his girlfriend.
Good, this was good. That was what Daryl thought to himself as he kept readjusting his crossbow. Despite how he may have seemed on the outside, he was anxious and antsy. Not to mention the pit in his stomach only kept growing.
This was good. He needed something to do. He needed to get his mind off of everything.
He needed to get his mind off of the goggles that weighed heavily on his belt.
And yet, even though they were a constant reminder, he seemed unable to let go of them.
"I've just got you wrapped around my finger, huh Hotshot?"
He clenched his teeth, turning and marching to the gate.
"Come on, we're gonna lose the light!" He snapped, trying to block out the phantom snickers coming from behind him.
...
For what felt like the hundredth time, Nye licked her chapped lips. And just like every other previous try, it did nothing.
"Guess Toby was right. I am dehydrated." She murmured, sounding slightly hoarse.
She though back on it, and realized the last time she had had any water, was the night before. Everything had been so hectic, from her getting suddenly woken up by Daryl, to locking herself in the very room she now sat, trapped. There had been no time for her to eat, let alone drink something.
She was sure by this point, that it was at least night. If she listened hard, she thought she could even hear crickets. But she was pretty sure that was just in her head.
Leaning back against the wall, she tried getting as comfortable as she could. Thinking that it was best for her to rest, and try to regain some stamina.
It had nothing to do with the fact she might see someone who she had lost a long time ago.
Sure.
Falling asleep had never been easier.
This time, there was no dizzying confusion, just nervous anticipation as she took in where she was.
She was outside, sitting on a park bench. If she were to guess, she would say it was springtime.
As she looked around, eyes taking in the strangely familiar place, they landed on something that made her freeze.
Across the street, there was a small, almost frail looking girl, sitting on the parking-lot curb in front of her school. Boney knees tucked up under her chin, as she kept looking down either end of the street.
Nye felt something heavy in her chest as she saw the sundress the girl was wearing.
Yeah, she knew what day this was.
"Always did love seein' you in that dress. You'd somehow always manage to rough it up though, you rascal."
Nye bit her lip, refusing to look to her left as she felt a body sit down beside her on the bench. She kept her eyes trained on the girl.
"What day was this again? Oh, right, picture day."
"You know what day this is." Nye immediately hissed, not finding any amusement in her joke.
This was the day, that little five year old girl, would sit on the curb for two hours, waiting for her Nana to come pick her up.
But Nana wasn't coming.
"Well, where do you think you got your trademark defense mechanisms from? Sure as hell wasn't from your deadbeat Daddy. No, that snark 'o yours is all me."
Nye dug her nails into the bench, eyes still not leaving the girl.
"...Why won't ya look at me, Mouse?"
Nye swallowed, biting her tongue to keep herself from replying.
"...Do you blame me?"
Nye's stomach dropped. She instinctively turned, looking over at-
Oh, that's right... That's what Nana looked like...
The woman, Elise, looked back at Nye with a look so soft it hurt.
Nye opened her mouth, closing it, before repeating the process.
"I-I could never-"
Elise patted her granddaughter's knee. "I know you don't, Sweetie. But you were hurt by me leavin'"
Nye couldn't help but scoff indignantly. "I was "hurt"? Try fucking destroyed!"
Elise only kept staring at her softly. "Because me leavin', left you with my monster of a son?"
Nye's anger slipped away, replaced by the weight of dread that always hit her whenever Martin was brought up.
"It's true, you don't blame me for passing. But you do, somewhere deep down, blame me for how you grew up. Whether you realize it or not."
"N-no, you weren't the one who-who..."
"Abused you."
Nye flinched, as if being struck.
Elise's grip tightened on her knee. "You know, you've never said it out loud. You don't have to protect him."
"I'm not! It's-I just... I'm fine."
Elise's face hardened. "What was our rule?"
Nye paused, looking back at the little girl.
"Never lie to Nana."
"That's right. Now, let me ask you somethin'."
Nye turned back.
"When was the last time you said "I'm fine", and meant it?"
The defeated look on Nye's face was telling.
"That's what I thought. You need to face it. You need to accept what happened to you."
Nye shook her head. "T-that's not-Look, it's over and done with, and I'm fi-" She cut herself off.
"Honey," Elise took Nye's face her hands. "You were abused."
Nye closed her eyes.
"That son of a bitch used to handcuff you to the fuckin' furnace. And when you got too big for that, he bought a baseball bat."
"I know." Nye whimpered, shuddering at the memories this was bringing on.
"And not once, have you told someone, confided in someone, tellin' them you were abused."
"I-I don't want them to think of me any different." Nye said faintly.
Elise nodded. "Alright, fair enough. But, I think you should at least say it to yourself. Stop pretendin', stop hidin'." She said fiercely, squeezing Nye's covered right wrist.
Nye gave a shaky nod, blinking away the wetness in her eyes.
"There's one more thing."
Nye looked up at her, into two dark brown eyes. "Y-yeah?"
"...Why'm I here, Mouse?"
Nye blinked, feeling torn for some reason.
"I-I don't-"
"Our rule, Mouse."
Nye's jaw slammed shut.
Elise nodded, before slowly standing. "I had a feelin'. I have to go now, gotta make way for the next one."
Nye watched, feeling paralyzed as Elise walked away, in the direction of the little girl.
Elise made it about fifteen feet, before Nye could force herself to stand.
She needed... She needed to hear it, one more time.
"N-Nana!"
Elise stopped, turning her head slightly.
"Hmm?"
Nye opened her mouth, fighting down the sobs shaking her chest.
"W-why did Mama n-name me "Niagara"?"
Elise paused, looking back, and smiling at her granddaughter softly.
"...Your Mama used to travel. Always said that Niagara Falls was the most beautiful thing she ever saw."
Nye cleared her throat, fighting for control of her voice, because she had to finish her line.
"T-then w-what?"
Elise only smiled wider.
"Then she had you. And you blew it right outta the water. She wanted you to be the most beautiful Niagara there ever was."
And that was it. Nye hung her head, body wracked with shuddering sobs. Sobs of a girl who never got to meet her mother.
"Lord, she would be so proud of you."
Nye's knees gave out.
She didn't even notice herself waking up. The grass under her knees slowly slipped away, being replaced by cold linoleum.
"Well ain't you a fucking mess."
Nye choked, blood rushing down from her face.
"Get yer skrawny ass off the floor, 'fore I hafta make ya."
She would never mistake that voice. Never mistake the way he spoke. Never mistake the unwavering contempt in his eyes.
Those eyes.
Her eyes.
She felt sick.
...
Night had fallen, and in the time that passed, the baby continued to wail to her heart's content.
Mason laid on the top bunk in Nye's cell, while Toby took the bottom.
Just like back at the quarry, when Nye had been left behind, the two boys buried themselves in her clothes.
Miraculously, they all still held the scent of peaches and daisies. Or maybe it was just in their heads. Either way, it was comforting.
Not a word was shared between the two, as they were too busy looking back on all the things they should have done differently.
For Toby, he was lamenting the fact he didn't get to say "I love you" one last time.
But Mason, he was thinking about how he should have called her "Mom", at least once. And how that could have made her feel.
Both boys, as a result, felt like horrible sons.
Downstairs, they heard the metal door to the cell-block swing open, hitting the wall from the force.
Daryl's urgent voice could be heard, asking "How's she doin'?"
Neither boy bothered getting up, they simply listened with half an ear as someone got a bottle of formula ready for the baby.
But, as Toby heard the cries being silenced by a bottle, he felt compelled to do something.
Lethargically getting up, the eleven year old grabbed his brother's arm, pulling on it.
Mason ignored him, refusing to move.
But Toby wasn't having it. Bracing his feet and shins against the frame of the bottom bunk, he tugged as hard as he could.
It was obvious he didn't think his plan through, as Mason fell down onto him like a ragdoll.
"Get, off, me." Toby growled as Mason continued to lay lifelessly on top of him.
When his brother remained silent, Toby resorted to a cheap shot.
He started pinching his ear.
After only a few seconds, Mason was slapping his hand away, fighting to get back to the top bunk.
But Toby was quick to grab his wrist in a vice-like grip, struggling to pull him out of the cell.
"Why." Mason barked, not having the energy, or motivation to do anything but lay in bed forever.
"Trust me." Toby replied shortly.
Mason reluctantly stopped dragging his feet.
Toby pulled him halfway down the staircase, before stopping. Sitting down, he gestured for Mason to do the same.
So, the two watched. Everyone but Rick and their lost loved ones were gathered around Daryl, as he held and fed the baby.
"She got a name yet?" Daryl softly asked the sheriff's son.
Carl shrugged stiffly. "Not yet... But I was thinking maybe Sophia." He said, looking over at Carol.
Said woman took a deep breath, blinking away some tears, and ducking her head.
"Then there's Andrea, too. And... Amy. Jacqui. Patricia..."
Everyone seemed to look down, thinking back on all the people they lost.
"Maybe... maybe Elise. Nye's middle name..."
Toby took his brother's hand, stopping the twelve year old from leaving.
"Or... Lori. I don't know." Carl shrugged again, face hidden by the brim of his hat as he hung his head.
Daryl looked back over to the stairs, watching the two boys who had come out of hiding.
His jaw clenched as he took in their blotchy red faces, and puffy eyes. Biting his lip, the goggles on his belt felt like they weighed a ton.
Looking down, he gently rocked the baby. Watching her suckle away on the bottle. "You like that? Huh? Little Ass-Kicker."
His term of endearment managed to crack a few smiles.
"Sounds like something she would say." Carol murmured softly as she stood near the boys on the stairs.
"Right? That's a good name, right?" Daryl jokingly argued. Before looking back down at the tired infant. "Little Ass-Kicker. You like that, huh? You like that, sweetheart?"
Carol smiled sadly, wishing a certain someone was there to witness her favorite redneck like this.
And as the short-haired woman looked to the two boys next to her, it only made her wish ten times harder.
But what good were wishes in the apocalypse? Carol, of all people, could testify that wishes didn't do shit.
...
She was sitting in an uncomfortably stiff chair, tense and feeling ready to run at a moments notice.
This hallucination was much more realistic than the one with Mason and Toby. This time, she wasn't housed in the pitch-black room. But rather a hallway in a hospital.
Sitting across from her, in another waiting-chair, was her father. Martin Conner.
Nye had yet to say anything, too busy trying not to have a panic attack.
Out of nowhere, screams came from behind the door to the left of Martin. Nye jolted, eyes now watching the door warily.
"Why the fuck am I here?" Martin demanded.
Nye involuntarily shuddered, eyes dropping down to the linoleum floor. She couldn't bring herself to answer.
Again, a pained scream pierced through the air. Once again coming from the door.
Martin scoffed, sitting back in his chair. "Un-fuckin'-believable."
Nye winced, hand instinctively moving to cover her right wrist.
The loudest scream yet, cut off anything she was even considering to say.
"Ya know that's you, right?"
Nye hesitantly tipped her head up.
Martin scowled at her, nodding to the door. "It's you, puttin' her through that pain."
Her brows furrowed, as she took that in.
"W-what are you-"
The screams were suddenly silenced, being replaced by a baby's crying.
Nye blanched.
Martin merely stared at her impassively.
"W-was... Is t-that...?"
"You, murderin' your mother?"
Nye grimaced, ducking her head again.
"Yes. It was."
The hallway stayed quiet as Nye listened to the baby that was supposed to be her, as she wailed.
"This i-isn't real. There's no w-way I could remember this." Nye stuttered.
"'Course it ain't real, you dumb bitch."
The baby's cries died off, turning into whimpers, before finally stopping.
"None o' this shit's real. I need to spell it out to ya?"
At that, her lips started moving on their own.
"Can you even spell? I was under the impression you were illiterate."
No sooner than the words were out of her mouth, was she slapping both hands over it. Eyes wide in horror as she registered what she just said.
She watched as Martin seethed in his chair, and years of conditioning had her closing her eyes tight, tensing in preparation for the blows that were surely to come.
But... nothing.
After ten seconds of silence, with no indication of him doing anything, she slowly opened her eyes, uncurling herself.
Martin still sat in his chair, only glaring hatefully at her.
Nye blinked, carefully sitting up and eyeing him warily.
"...Why aren't you hitting me?"
Silence. Stifling and thick with tension, as Martin continued to only glare at her. His lips pursed so hard they were turning white.
Nye fidgeted in her seat, watching him in trepidation. But that was when she noticed it. One of Martin's go-to moves, was that he always stood over her while she was seated. It was a way to assert his dominance, and make her feel even smaller than she already was.
This was probably the first time she was ever staring at him eye-to-eye.
In a move only achievable by years of breaking out of her shell, she leaned forward.
Brows twitching from nerves and confusion, she braced her elbows on her knees, leaning in and watching for his reaction at her next words.
"...You can't, can you?"
The harsh exhale and further pursing of his lips was all the answer she needed.
For a long time, or what just felt like a long time, she didn't know what to do with that information. Because here she was, sitting with her father, who as far as she could tell, couldn't even touch her.
And as it finally hit her, the most light, airy feeling filled her abdomen.
He couldn't touch her.
Slowly, Nye started to smile.
"You can't touch me." She whispered, somewhat in awe.
But, then she realized...
When was the last time he could touch me?
Years. It had been years, and yet she still treated him like a threat. Treated him like he was going to come around a corner at any given time, and hurt her.
In that moment, Nye was hit with a mountain of self-loathing. Wasn't she supposed to be the cool 'devil-may-care' chick in the group? The one who would do anything, like eat a live spider or something, on a dare?
So why, why was she so terrified of a memory?
Using some more of her confidence she gained throughout the years, she leaned back this time. Crossing one leg over the other, she narrowed her eyes at him, and decided to turn the tables.
"Why are you here?"
"To make you see reason." Martin hissed.
Nye raised a trembling brow, hoping he wouldn't see past her bravado. "Right, 'cause we all know you're the reasonable one here."
Martin shot forward, and Nye quickly tried hiding her harsh wince.
"You're the one who took her away from me! I'm not the killer! Don't talk like yer above me!"
Nye's eyes widened, but instead of fliching away from his shouts like she would have years ago, she saw red at what he was implying.
"Are you serious?" Nye hissed dangerously.
Martin, of course, didn't back down. "You ruined my life the day you were born."
A red, angry flush of color bloomed on her cheeks. The kind of blush only obtainable by pure outrage. With Elise's words ringing in her head, Nye said the thing she should have said a long time ago.
"You abused me! You damaged me in ways that still effect me to this day! And yet you still have the gall to sit there, and act like you're the victim?" Nye spat, glaring venomously at him.
Martin remained silent, staring at her with the same blueish green eyes that greeted her in the mirror every day. Those eyes she always hated.
And never before had she wanted more to gouge them out, than right now.
Standing, Nye stared her father down for the first time in her life. And while yes, he was only something her mind had constructed, it still felt empowering to look down on him.
"You were never the victim. You were the one who got Beverley, a sixteen year old girl, pregnant. You were the one who destroyed any dream she had of travelling all over the world. You were the one who made Nana start stress smoking again, You were the one, who chained me up, and beat me with a baseball bat."
She panted, feeling light-headed, and exhausted from standing alone. But she wasn't done.
"That, all of it. Was on you." She growled. "None of it was ever my f-"
Her eyes widened, mouth slamming shut. The knot she felt her insides tied up into, unraveled. And an indescribable heavy, yet weightless feeling filled her chest.
Oh.
Swallowing thickly, Nye watched, as Martin vanished, leaving his chair empty.
A soft 'click' came from the door that had been to Martin's left, as it started inching open slightly.
Almost roboticly, Nye took the metal handle, pushing the door open further.
What met her, was a dark, and empty diner. The only light was coming from a large window next to a certain booth. A beautiful sunset casted the diner in a calming pink and orange light.
A lone, small body sat at the booth. And as they turned away from the window, to look over at her, Nye gave a watery giggle.
"There you are."
...
Morning had come, and thankfully the unnamed baby had slept rather soundly. Only waking up to cry twice.
Mostly everyone was asleep, and given the facts that they had had one of the longest days ever yesterday, and the sun was only now breaking over the horizon, it was no surprise.
The grass rustled softly under him, as he marched his way to his destination. The bottom of his pant legs becoming damp from the morning dew.
All too soon, he found himself in front of three graves.
In the back of his mind, Daryl wondered who had made the crosses.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, he took the goggles off of his belt. Looking down, he studied them.
They were old, and worn down. the lenses looked to be regular glass, and both were surrounded by soft leather. They honestly looked more like something that belonged in a museum, not on top of a reckless, still maturing, woman's head.
Running his thumb over the leather, he noticed the black and dark grey soot stains. Leading him to believe they had once belonged to a wielder.
At this point, he knew he was stalling. But some part of him was entirely too reluctant to let go of them. At some point in the past, the goggles had become a permanent fixture of how he thought of her.
When he looked for her in the group, the first thing he scanned for, were the goggles sitting atop her head. And whenever he couldn't figure out what she was thinking, he'd watch what she would do with them.
A readjustment meant she was thinking. A tug on the back of the strap meant she was angry. Knotting her fingers in them meant she was scared or nervous. And pulling them down, closer to her eyes, while ducking her head, usually happened when she was paid a complement.
He would probably be able to identify them in a lineup, with his eyes closed.
But, they weren't his. They were hers, in every sense of the word. He honestly couldn't imagine anyone else but her wearing them. More than that, he didn't want to imagine it.
Before walking out of the cell-block, he had entertained the idea of giving them to Mason and Toby, which made the most sense. But neither kid seemed to even be able to look at them.
So, here he was.
He shuffled his feet, biting his lip, before finally stepping forward.
Being more gentle than he knew he needed to be, he carefully hooked the strap over the top of the cross. Letting go, and letting the goggles hang there.
Stepping back, he ignore any irritation in his eyes, or any heat quickly spreading from them to his nose.
He didn't say anything, didn't feel like he needed to. Because that's how it was for them. She would say something ridiculous to get a reaction, and he would silently respond accordingly. She never needed a verbal response to know what he was saying.
As he turned, he saw two people stepping out of the cell-block, walking in his direction.
Nodding to himself, he started walking back, deciding to let the boys be with their mother in peace.
Enough mourning, he needed to find Rick.
...
Her footsteps were soft, barely making a noise in the quiet diner. Everything around her seemed muted as she slid into the other side of the booth. Their booth.
Then, she just stared.
Across from her, he ducked his head sheepishly, looking up at her through his bangs.
He's thirteen. The same as when we met. She thought to herself in awe.
"W-what?" He asked, fidgeting in his seat.
Nye shook her head, though her eyes never left him.
"I love you. You're my baby brother and I love you so fucking much-"
"Aggy."
Nye closed her mouth, sniffling and well aware of the tears running down her face.
Shepherd gave her one of his closed mouth smiles, reaching over the table for her hand.
Nye immediately took his offered hand with both of hers.
"There is so much I want to tell you." Nye squeaked, throat tight and unyielding.
Shepherd squeezed her hand. "I know. But we don't have a lot of time."
Swallowing, she shook her head vehemently. "No, Shep, I-I need to-"
Another soft squeeze shut her up.
"I think you've figured it out."
Nye gave a single, stiff nod.
"...Why we're here."
Refusing to look up at him, she answered the question.
"It's because... It wasn't my fault."
Shepherd grinned proudly, nodding to her encouragingly.
Looking up at him, she gave him a bitter smile.
"...That's what you wanted to hear, right?"
Shepherd's grin slowly fell.
Nye gave a him a smile filled to the brim with shame. "I know that's what you-that's what I want to say. But I don't mean it."
Leaning back, she let her fingers slip through his.
"I know there some things I wouldn't have been able to change. Sophia wasn't my fault. Dale wasn't my fault. Randall wasn't my fault. Andrea wasn't my fault. T-Dog wasn't my fault." Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she forced the list to go on.
"Beverley wasn't my fault either. I know that. Logically I do. But I still feel so guilty."
Shepherd sat forward, taking back her hands. "And I wasn't-"
"No."
"But Aggy-"
"No." Nye barked. "You... you're... That was on me."
Shepherd scowled fiercely at her. "You weren't the one who killed me!"
Nye flinched, closing her eyes and trying to banish the memories. The cop cars, the ambulance, the blood.
"You were late! By half an hour! You're never late, how could I have thought you were okay!?"
"It's not on you, Aggy! It was never on you!" Shepherd yelled, practically begging her to believe him at this point.
She shook her head. "But you're my baby brother. And it was my job to protect you."
"No, it was my foster mom's job. But you were the only one who looked out for me."
She looked back down at the polished wood of the table. "...I wanted to kill him. That fucking boyfriend of hers, I-"
"Can't do anything about it now. Besides, he was found guilty and sent away."
"Of course he was. He was covered in your blood." Nye scoffed darkly.
Silence fell over them, and Shepherd gripped her hand tightly.
"...We still have a little bit of time left. Do... do you want to talk about... stuff?"
"Yeah," She snorted. "Let's talk about stuff."
"Cool. You first."
Giggling tearily, she leaned over the table on her elbows. "Okay, well..."
For a second, she had no idea what to talk about. Then, it hit her.
"You, uh, you have two nephews."
Shepherd shot forward. "Are you serious? But you're so young!"
Flicking his nose at the accusatory tone, Nye gave him a look. "Calm down, they're adopted."
"Well in that case, tell me about them."
The sun remained stationary as Nye talked about her boys for what felt like hours, continuously bathing them in it's warm light. Shepherd would nod, smile, and laugh as she told him story after story about his nephews. Not once did it cross Nye's mind, that he already knew all of this, him being a figment of her imagination and all. But that hurtfully familiar way his eyes would light up, the little uneven dimples on his cheeks, and the sweet sound of his shy laughter, all tricked her into believing, at least for a little while, that he was there with her.
And it all ended, far too soon.
For awhile at that point, the diner had started flickering. Being replaced by the dark, cold room she was truly in.
After the longest flicker yet, Shepherd gave her a long, sad look.
"I think time's up." He whispered softly.
Shaking her head in denial, Nye held his hands tighter, all while the sun finally started to truly set.
"No, no, no..." Nye chanted, sobs already beginning to wrack her chest. "Not again, I can't do this again."
With a smile thought didn't remotely reach his eyes, his hands left hers. The room now dimming dramatically as the sun was almost set.
"You have to make me a promise Aggy."
Nye nodded violently. "Anything! Just please don't go."
A hand ghosted across her face, tucking away a stray strand of hair.
"You have to promise you won't blame yourself anymore."
For a second, Nye stopped breathing entirely.
"You have to promise, you won't hate yourself anymore. Promise me."
Holding the wet sobs captive deep in her chest, she took a good long look at her brother's face, knowing that this was it, at least for a long time.
Her lips slowly opened, the words coming out in barely even a whisper.
"I promise."
Shepherd smiled at her, really smiled. And in her weakened state, she rolled the idea of eating her gun around in her head, so long as it meant he didn't have to leave.
But that would mean leaving Mason and Toby. Leaving the group. Leaving the only family she had.
Besides, she was out of bullets.
The diner flickered once, twice, and finally after the third time, the diner didn't come back.
That was when she lost it.
An ear-piercing scream sounded, bouncing and amplifying off the concrete walls around her.
She only stopped after the screams became nothing more than a squeaky exhale. That was when the sobbing took its place.
Laid out in the fetal-position, a wet spot began to form around her face. But she couldn't care less.
Walkers started banging on the door, having heard her breakdown.
To try and drown out the foreboding bangs, she languidly picked her monkey wrench up off the ground by a few inches, before letting it drop back down. The metal 'clang' sounded almost no different to the Walkers banging, but at least she knew she was making the noise.
By the time her tears ran dry, which was after an eternity, the Walkers were silenced.
She paid no mind to the silence, and continued on with beating her wrench into the ground. If she was lucky, it would sometimes cause sparks.
Feeling cold, tired, and emotionally empty, she didn't even look up when-
The door opened.