After Dampish's comment I've decided to try to make Oliver a more active character in this arc. Sorry I haven't lately. I've been very distracted with finishing uni and starting an adult life, plus I was putting most of my efforts into making the next half of the season the best it could be, because I actually enjoyed that half. But with two chapters of this junk left, and much more time on my hands, I've put more effort into this chapter. Hope you enjoy.
May I stand unshaken
Amid, amidst a clash of worlds?
Did I hear a thunder?
Did I hear you break?
I can't quite remember
Just what guided me this way, oh...
Enid was leaving today with most of the other convoys. Her work was more needed at Hilltop. So was everybody else's at all the other communities. Still, to Oliver, it didn't make saying goodbye to her any easier.
"You know, you could come along."
Oliver pulled a face. "I want to, but..."
"But Rick," Enid guessed. "Why don't you just tell him you don't want to stay?"
"He won't listen."
Enid tutted. She turned away and rubbed her head. "He can't keep controlling you like this. You're not his son. And the bridge? It's... It's just a bridge."
Oliver looked at her. He thought of the rushing water crashing beneath the bridge's foundations, ready to wash it all away — ready to wash Rick away, too.
It wasn't just a bridge.
Not to him.
"More and more people are giving up," Enid went on. "At this rate, you're working backwards. You know how it's going to end. How it is already ending."
Oliver sighed. "C'mon."
At the carriage, he told Enid, "See you... soon." And she hugged him, then climbed up and took her bags as he handed them up to her, and in a few minutes she and the Hilltop convoy were gone.
"Hey," Jerry said from his horse, "you seen the queen? Her convoy's waiting."
Oliver frowned, then nodded. "Yeah. Sorry. She's waiting for me. We'll be along in a minute."
"No problem," a guard driving the main carriage said. "Just let her know we're ready to go when she is."
Jerry rode away for a perimeter check. Oliver raised his chin to the driver, then headed to Carol's tent. Inside, she was sitting at her desk, playing with her ring. All her things were neatly packed into a duffel bag. She stood up when Oliver entered.
"It's okay," he said, "we don't need to make a big deal out of this."
Her eyebrows were high on her forehead.
"You're leaving for Kingdom," Oliver added. "Not leaving forever."
She gave him an appreciative smile, then sat again. He came over and sat, too, beside her at the edge of her empty cot, with an arm around her shoulders and his nose in her hair.
"Are you a queen now?"
"What? No."
"Not what Jerry says."
"Well, you know Jerry, he lives in the clouds."
Lucky, Oliver thought, and said, "If you say so, your Majesty..." She pushed him off his seat and he stumbled and laughed and then Rick entered the tent.
"Hey," he said, gently.
"Hey," Carol replied.
"Just heard you and your people are leaving, too."
"Yeah. Was just saying goodbye to Oliver."
Rick smiled and shook his head.
Carol sighed. "You've seen it out there," she told him. "It's time to go."
"What about the Sanctuary?"
"They need to try standing on their own."
"What if they can't?"
"It's on them. They don't want us anymore. But they don't want Negan anymore, either. Not most of them, anyway... Rick, they'll figure out who they want to be."
"Like you did."
"Like we all did."
Rick sighed. He glanced at Oliver, then at Carol. "You both've been through so much. We all have. But, if any two people were to give me hope for how things can turn out, it's you both."
"We don't know shit," Oliver said. "Just like everybody else."
Carol sighed and put her hand on Rick's wrist. "I am sorry. I really wanted it to work. I really did."
"I know. I know." Rick rubbed his forehead. He smiled at her and waved her away. "G'on, get outta here."
Carol nodded. She hugged Oliver goodbye and got him to promise to visit Kingdom sometime. He carried her bag outside for her. Just as they came down from the deck, Jerry rode over.
"Got somethin' for you, jefe," he told Rick.
"What is it?"
"Maggie's running down to Alexandria. Jesus thought you should know pronto."
Oliver felt his stomach lurch. He dropped Carol's bag, then picked it up and apologised to her.
"When did she leave?" Rick hissed.
"Dunno," Jerry said. "Call just came in from the Hilltop relay."
"Did he say anything else?"
"Just that... you'd know what that means. Sorry, man, that's all I got."
"Thanks, Jerry," Rick said, grabbing his talkie and walking off.
Oliver stuttered at Carol but she seemed to understand what he wanted, so she took her bag, kissed his cheek quickly, and wished him luck under her breath. Oliver headed straight to Roan. Daryl met him.
"Stay," he said harshly. "Me and Rick will go."
"No," Oliver said. He looked at Rick, who was asking Rachel over walkie talkie to send an urgent message to Alexandria to delay Maggie at the gate. Oliver looked at Daryl again and whispered, "I know what you're doing. I want to help. Take Rick on your bike. Divert him, distract him, fucking tie him up — I don't care. Just don't let him get there. Not yet."
Daryl watched him, eyes narrow, then nodded. "Go."
"Copy that, Rick," Rachel said. "Will relay your message right now. Over."
Rick headed for the horses but Oliver had already mounted up.
"Hold up, son."
"No, I'll meet you there," Oliver lied, and on cue Daryl came over to offer Rick a ride. He caught Oliver's eye behind Rick's back and Oliver nodded, then kicked Roan into a gallop out of camp.
Oliver rode as fast as he and Roan could manage. He could feel the thrill of it in Roan's stride, hear the harsh, heaved breaths between dusty stomps as they powered on along the trails until froth was building under the saddle and on Roan's flanks and mouth. And still they galloped on.
They got to the first relay point and skidded to a stop when they saw Rachel writhing around on the ground, clutching her ankle. "Help! Help me! I got bit by a snake!"
Oliver got down and rushed over to her. "Come on," he said, "I'll take you to Alexandria. I'm on my way there anyw—"
"No!" she sobbed. "No, take me to the camp medic."
"Enid's left for Hilltop. Alexandria's closer. Rachel—"
"No, ah! The pain!"
Oliver stood back from her and frowned. He crouched again and told her to show him the snake bite, and she said no, so he yanked her hands away and saw no bite. She peered up at him guiltily, out of breath. Oliver wasn't sure whether he should feel a fool or not. At the very least he felt like an impressed fool; being tricked so easily by a thirteen-year-old.
"You messed with the relay?" he asked.
"So what?" she asked.
"Yeah. So what? You did great. I need to go."
"No!" she shrieked.
"Look, I'm not going to stop Maggie, alright? I'm going to help her. But I need to get there before anybody does try to stop her." He got back on his horse and after some tutting Rachel returned to her watch post.
"Later," Oliver said, for good measure.
"Hm," she huffed, reading her fashion magazine.
When Oliver arrived at Alexandria the first thing he saw was Ken's old piebald mare and another palomino, and Dianne, who must've accompanied Maggie. Oliver left Roan with her, explaining why he was there, and then he ran to the Brownstone apartments.
Michonne was standing outside.
He couldn't tell what she was feeling when she saw him. She mostly seemed surprised that he had arrived so quickly. He was sweating and out of breath and felt as though something was spinning in his stomach.
"She's inside," he said, not sure if it was supposed to be a question. Not sure what he was feeling most. Excitement? Horror? Guilt? Grief.
Michonne just looked down at the floor. Slowly, Oliver stepped to the door and put his ear to it. Hearing Negan's voice for the first time in almost six months skewed something in his brain, like re-reading a book years later and although it's the same story, it's as though it's being told in a new, strange way, like it's been rewritten somehow. Negan sounded rehearsed and worn out, like an old circus animal — coated in his same old bullshit, just no good at hiding it anymore.
"I remember how much I broke you breaking open your husband's head."
"His name was Glenn."
"So now what? You finally come for... revenge?"
"Justice."
"Take you this long to work up your nerve?"
"I was always gonna settle what you did."
"What I did? Popping out his fucking eyeball? While you and his buddies watched? Hmpf, I used to say that I didn't enjoy killing. It was true, for the most part. But your old man — fuck, I forgot his name again — he was different. Killing him, now, that was fun..."
Oliver found it difficult to hear him. Negan was speaking so softly. It was like trying to listen to a withered plant. He pushed his ear harder against the door.
"Let me see you in the light," Maggie said.
There was a short pause and a grunt. "Just get to it, lady," Negan said, voice a monotone croak. "Kill me. Do you not have it in you either?"
"Come into the light."
"Kill me."
The cell door opened.
"Why?" Maggie asked. "Why should I?"
Negan didn't speak. But Oliver knew the answer. They'd talked about it at length, months before. Negan wanted to be with his wife, Lucille. He wanted to be dead, just like her. He wanted Maggie to be the one who did it, who settled it. Settled him.
"Get back in your cell," she growled.
Oliver heard shuffling.
"I came to kill Negan," Maggie went on, "but you're already worse than dead."
Oliver noticed a small scratch in the paint on the window and peered through. There were wooden shutters in the way but at the right angle he could see through a chip in one slat. Maggie was standing at the open cell door with Negan knelt before her: no more than a breathing corpse, staring up at her with wet, empty eyes.
Maggie came out not long later. She locked the door and stood before Oliver and Michonne. None of them said a thing. On their way back to the horses, Dianne ran over, talkie in hand.
"Something's up with camp."
The only real silver lining everyone left at the bridge had held on to over the last few days was that the two herds, Tybalt and Cordelia, weren't conjoining. But something had gone wrong. An argument with the ex-Saviours, Dianne said, and one gunshot to lure them all.
They rode as quickly as they could but by the time they arrived, camp was overrun. To avoid them merge, they went another way towards the bridge and found Carol and the rest of the Kingdom convoy in the forest nearby, who had all had to hide when the gunfight broke out. They found Jesus next, with Rosita, Eugene, Tara, and Beatrice. And Daryl, who told he and a few others were putting dynamite on the bridge to help Rick send the dead out to sea.
They ran to help and found him there, standing bloody on the other side of the river with the bridge holding steady underneath him. The walkers were coming. Some they had to shoot at with what little of their firepower they had left to stop them crossing or getting too close to Rick. They just needed to wait for Rick to be in the clear.
"Where is he?!"
"There!"
Oliver could see him on the other side, surrounded. "Keep fighting, Rick!" he shouted, but Rick just stood there in the middle of the bridge. Daryl shot one that got close, and another that lunged at him. Rick raised his gun at the oncoming herd, at the box of dynamite.
"Rick!"
The blast threw Oliver to the ground and the bridge went up in fire and smoke. He saw walkers tumbling down into the rushing river, and on the far side, Rick was gone.
Oliver's ears rang. He got to his feet, surrounded by chaos and bodies. Michonne was screaming. Carol and Maggie were holding her. Everyone else was just watching, like they didn't believe it.
Oliver didn't waste time following the river current east. It was hard to stay ahead of the rushing water and soon walkers were sweeping by faster than he could keep up, gnarling and gargling at him. But Oliver didn't give up. He had to try to get Rick before he washed out to sea. After everything. After how much Oliver doubted him. He'd take back all the awful things he'd said and thought about him over the last year. He'd build the bridge again,and again, if only he could just find him. If only he could just run faster.
He fell on a root and crashed into the water. The cold stole the air in his throat. He tried to stop the current from pulling him out but the riverbed was too soft to grip under his shoes. The water ate him. While he was under, something snatched his ankle then let go with a rip and Oliver screamed. Air bubbles escaped to the sky. When he thought he would drown, he came up to the surface, spluttering and choking. A walker snarled and span past him. Then another. He fought for the riverbank and eventually caught hold of a thorn bush in his hands and it ripped his skin and clothes as he clawed his way up to safety. He laid there in the grass and thorns, torn up and soaked in mud and blood and water. The currant had carried him a long way in the few moments he'd been trapped in it, and he looked at the field he'd found himself in. He wasn't too far from camp. A few miles at most. As he caught his breath he watched the sky and could see the black smoke coming from the explosion, and suddenly a buck as it rushed from the forest, away from the smell, and across the land alone.
With some strength back, he sat up and checked himself. Whatever had torn his ankle hadn't cut him too deeply, but depth didn't matter if it was a walker. Time would tell, and he was terrified, so he simply rolled down his jeans' leg and tried to stay calm.
He'd lost his inhaler in the water, and his prosthetic arm, and a right shoe. He didn't want to go back to camp if he was dying. And if he was to live, he didn't know where he wanted to go instead. Not back to Hilltop or Kingdom or Alexandria. Not yet. The loss and lack of loss was like being hit by a speeding car. First Carl. Now Rick. It sent him off in shards across Virginia and it was as if he was out there looking for all the pieces. He didn't eat. Didn't sleep. Didn't look back. Just kept on walking.
By the end of the second day his ankle was so swollen that he could barely walk on it, and he finally succumbed to pain and exhaustion and passed out where he stood.
He woke up inside an old shack. It was dark and warm and he was wrapped in several blankets. Flecks of starlight streaked in through the gaps in the brittle tin ceiling above. His ankle stung and when he took a sheepish look it was wrapped in a clean bandage. Under it, the swelling and puss had gone, and a scab was forming. A small, half-empty box of antibiotics were set beside him. He'd have felt relief if he weren't also suspicious that he'd been kidnapped — he vaguely remembered a figure sitting beside him tending to the fire. There was a cooked hare carcass hung by the put-out fire across from him, a spare shoe, some basic supplies, his machete, his gun, knife, and someone's coat.
His prosthetic, too, had somehow been recovered.
Not kidnapped.
He ate the hare, then got up and limped outside. He realised this was the same shack he and Rick once stopped at on their way to Hilltop months ago. Oliver looked around and saw it again. The buck. As if it had been standing there waiting for him. It watched him. Then it went on at a trot over the hill. Oliver looked up to the sky, like he had that day, only this time the night sky was a galaxy-blotched canvas.
He heard something around back and found Roan tethered loosely to a tree. His saddle laid on the ground nearby and a note was tucked under the stirrup, reading the words 'Go home'.
So Oliver did.
Lorton was much wilder than when he and Carol had last left it. In the years since visiting, Oliver had never gone back once, but after unsaddling Roan and leaving him to graze in the fenced backyard, of which his parents' and infantile brother's graves were left overgrown and barely distinguishable, bar their headstones, Oliver found the spare key under a rock and walked in through the backdoor as if he were returning home from a nine-to-five work day.
He shut the door and set the keys on the counter. He went upstairs to his bedroom, sneezing and wheezing as he shook out the dust and dirt from his moth-eaten bed sheets, then curled up under them and slept.
May I stand unshaken
Amid, amidst a clash of worlds?
Mmm, oh, traveller
What have you seen?
Were there crossroads
Where you been, where you been?
I once was standing tall
Now I feel my back's against the wall...
Notes
The show's Negan seems more emotional than the comic Negan, which is fine, I just prefer he be a little more of an emotionless empty zombie instead of sobbing. Also I enjoyed Rachel and Oliver's exchange a bunch. Since the whole Rick kidnap I guess we know where Heath went now. And Noah in this fic. It's a shame. I was hoping to integrate him back into Oliver's life one day. Maybe I still will, but I'll wait to see if certain rumours come true first. Song was 'May I Stand Unshaken' by D'Angelo from the Red Dead Redemption II soundtrack. I finished that game in 5 days with around 65 hours of gameplay (I've since replayed it 3 or 4 times). I waited seven years for it and it was so worth it.
Thanks for reading.