Hey, guys! Sorry I've been so slow to update lately. Life has smacked me in the face a bit recently, so I haven't had much free time to read/write. Hopefully these updates will pick back up soon. This chapter and the next may seem a bit fillery, but I wanted to take some time to introduce the people of ASZ and touch base with our survivors. As much as I love writing Tilly and Daryl (and there's plenty of them in this chapter, don't worry), the others are just as important to the movement of the story. I have big plans for the coming chapters, and I can't wait to share them with you.
Thanks for taking the time to read, and a big thank you to those of you who have followed/reviewed. Keep it up (please)!
xo
"You understand what will happen if Douglas finds out we took matters into our own hands?" Heath cautioned, wary of what Tilly and Glenn were brewing.
"There's no way he'd find out," she replied. "We'll just drive nice and slow, lead the herd in that direction, then put a little distance between us right before we reach the checkpoint. By the time the walkers get there we'll be long-gone, and they'll have their hands full."
"What good does that do?" Michael prodded, the wheels in his head turning as he took in the confident look in her eyes. "I mean, at most they lose six or seven guys. That will barely make a dent."
"You're right," Glenn replied, "it won't put them out of business or anything, but it'll still be a blow. There's no way you'd ever been able to beat them head-on, so if you ever want out of this arrangement it'll have to be done piece-by-piece."
"And in such a way that he can't trace it back to us and put a stop to it," Tilly finished.
The men remained silent for a moment, keeping an eye on the approaching herd as they crept slowly toward the van.
"Gonna have to decide quickly," Tilly encouraged. "Those things are coming for us either way. Why not use them to our advantage?"
"What do you think, Heath?" Michael asked. "I mean, they're right. We risk out lives out here and they reap the benefit."
Heath let out a loud sigh and put the van in gear. "Not a word of this reaches Douglas," he conceded, "do you all understand?"
The other three nodded their heads rapidly.
"Alright, then," he breathed. "I guess we're having us a slow, scenic drive back home."
The previously short drive back to the Saviors' outpost took them nearly an hour, the van creeping along and staying just ahead of the dead. When they got a quarter-of-a-mile away Heath sped up, wanting to get their inevitable encounter with the Saviors over with so they could be gone before the chaos started.
He rolled down his window and smiled nervously at the rugged men as he stopped in front of them.
"All done," he announced, the same guys from earlier approaching the vehicle.
"What'd ya find?" the younger one asked curiously, a clipboard held tightly in his hands as he took notes.
"Some medicine, a little bit of food," Tilly replied, "a few knives, clothing, flashlights and some rope, plus a few other odds and ends."
"Odds and ends?" The man raised an eyebrow as he studied her face.
Tilly shrugged. "Nothing too exciting. A couple of tarps, batteries, coffee. Stuff like that."
He continued examining her expression for a moment and she silently prayed he wouldn't want to sort through everything. It wasn't that they had anything to hide, but the walkers would undoubtedly make their appearance soon. Eventually he nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer, and gestured for them to move along.
They all collectively exhaled as they rolled away, none of them realizing they had even been holding their breath.
"Piece of cake," Tilly chuckled, though the nerves in her voice were evident. Even though it was her plan, she still couldn't shake the feeling that there was always a margin for error, no matter how simple a mission seemed.
"Let's get home," Michael sighed, patting Heath on the shoulder. "I don't know about you guys, but I've had enough excitement today. I need a nap."
"Amen to that," Glenn agreed, wriggling a bit to get comfortable in the now-cramped van.
"Where'd you learn to shoot?"
"Same place everyone did," Sasha answered, "on the road." The man she spoke to was Spencer, the man in charge of the watch crew.
"You're good," he smiled, pushing a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. "Do you have any experience with sniper rifles?"
Sasha nodded proudly. "That's mostly what I used when we were based out of the prison. It made the most sense since we kept watch in the guard towers. Most of our group are pretty decent with them."
"None as good as you, I bet." The flirtation in his voice was evident, but Sasha chose to ignore his tone. "I'd really like to start utilizing the clock tower more as a point of watch," he continued more seriously. "We've had good luck just keeping watch from the wall, but it can't hurt to add another line of sight."
"You have another sniper around here?" she questioned.
Spencer nodded. "We have Brian and Travis, both former military. They're excellent shots. I think Maggie measures up, too."
"She's a good shot," Sasha agreed. "A four-person rotation up there sounds like it could work well."
"Wouldn't give any of you much time off," he observed.
Sasha just shrugged. "Don't know what I'd do with free time anyway, to be honest. Not really used to feeling safe enough to sit around and relax."
"Do you feel safe here?" he pried, taking a seat on top of a picnic table.
Sasha allowed herself to plop down next to him, her rifle laid across her lap. "Getting there," she said honestly. "It'll take some time, though."
"You have all the time in the world now," he grinned, laying his hand on her knee.
"Once we unload everything, you guys can have your pick of what you want," Heath instructed the group as they piled out of the van, securely within the confines of the safe zone. "That's the one perk to this job."
The group made quick work of removing their payload and piling it on the pavement, with instructions from Michael to just leave it there for the commissary workers to sort. Tilly bent down and began to poke through the pile, collecting the things she thought would prove useful: A pair of pants and extra socks for Daryl, a thick jacket for herself, a can of instant coffee, some toiletries, a flashlight and some batteries. She stuck her treasures carefully in her pack and zipped it up before replacing it over her shoulder.
She glanced over at Glenn who had finished his own looting and was rising to his feet. "Walk me home?" she asked with a grin.
"Of course, m'lady," he drawled, giving her an exaggerated bow before offering her his arm to take. She laughed as she looped hers through it and the pair began the trek back to their part of town.
"You think it worked?" she asked quietly, readjusting her bag.
"We can hope," the young man sighed. "Should we tell Rick what we did? I mean, he should know about any action we take, but on the other hand…"
"He's going to be pissed the fuck off that we acted on our own," Tilly finished, drawing a nod from Glenn. "I think we should keep this between us for now."
"You going to tell Daryl?" he questioned, glancing over at her as they walked.
Tilly remained quiet for a moment, weighing her options. "Maybe," she replied. "He might have some insight as far as whether we should let Sheriff Grimes in on that piece of information."
"Or he might be pissed the fuck off," Glenn recited. "He gets all scowly and quiet when he thinks you're in danger. It's kind of terrifying."
Tilly laughed heartily at his observation. "I was never in any danger," she assured him. "We were safe in the car, and there's no way that can be traced back to us."
Glenn nodded thoughtfully. "Hopefully he'll see it that way." He placed his other hand on Tilly's, gently encouraging her to release it from where it was wrapped through his arm, as the familiar blue house came into sight. "This is your stop," he smiled. "Good luck. I'll see you after dinner."
"See you then," she smiled before making her way up the front steps and into her new home.
The place was quiet, no sign of movement visible downstairs. She set her bag on the floor before removing her soiled sweatshirt and hanging it over the banister.
"That you, Matilda?" Daryl's gruff voice called from upstairs.
"No," she called playfully, "just a burglar."
"Get on out of here then," he yelled, a hint of humor in his voice, "'fore I have to put an arrow in your ass."
"Sounds kinky," she laughed, picking up her bag and making her way upstairs to the bedroom.
Daryl sat on the floor fiddling with his crossbow, and he rose as she entered the room and set her pack on the bed. He made his way over to her and she wasted no time wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his lips to hers. He squeezed her tightly around the waist as she pulled her face back and looked up at the hunter.
"Glad ya'll made it back ok," he smiled, placing another kiss on her forehead. "Find anything good?"
"I have presents for you!" she announced happily, pulling herself away and nearly skipping over to the bed. He sat beside her as she rustled through her bag and began to lay her finds out in front of him.
"Sweet new flashlight," she narrated, holding up the Maglite with a huge grin. "I got you some clothes. They should fit well enough. And," she paused, "I got you this."
She held up the large hunting knife proudly, elated when Daryl's eyes lit up at the sight. "That's pretty badass," he replied, taking the weapon from her and examining it closely. "Thanks."
"Thought you'd like it," she smiled as she watched him turn the blade over and over in his hand.
"Everything go smoothly?" he asked casually, already assuming it had since she had made it back in one piece.
She hesitated for a moment, debating internally whether she should tell him about the walker attack they launched on the Saviors. "We found one of the Negan's outposts," she admitted.
He immediately turned his attention away from the blade and narrowed his eyes at her intensely.
"They didn't give us any trouble," she assured him. "We just had to check in with them as we passed through, but on the way back we, uh…" Her voice trailed off and she looked away as she regretted even beginning the sentence.
"What?" he questioned, his eyes growing dark as placed a hand on her cheek, forcing her to look at him. "What did you do on the way back?"
"Well," she began softly, "we ran into a huge herd as we were leaving the store. There were probably hundreds of the things. We had enough time to get away safely, but-" Her voice faltered again, already weary of the inevitable lecture she was about to receive.
"Spit it out, girl," he encouraged, his voice remarkably serious.
"We led the herd back toward their outpost," she admitted, pulling away a bit and examining his face as he sat uncomfortably still, his stare boring through her face. "We just drove nice and slow, made sure they were following, until we got close, then we sped up so we had enough time to get through there before the geeks showed up."
"Rick put you up to that?" he hissed. He had become more and more frustrated with the leader and his seeming desire to keep putting Tilly in positions where she could get hurt.
"No," Tilly shook her head furiously. "How could he have known there'd be a herd, anyway? He wasn't there. It was my idea."
He stood up quickly and began to pace the room in front of her, a sure sign that he wasn't happy with her revelation, but said nothing.
"It's fine," she encouraged, standing from the bed herself. "We were never in any real danger, and there's no way they'd ever know it was our fault. Those things will wipe out the outpost and we'll have a few less Saviors to deal with. I don't see the issue."
Daryl shook his head in frustration and turned to face her. "You've gotta quit going rogue like that," he scolded, though his tone was softer than she'd anticipated. His words were filled with worry rather than rage. "What if you guys had gotten cut off by another herd with that one shamblin' behind you, huh? What would you have done then?"
Tilly remained silent, knowing he had a point.
He sighed deeply and put his hands on her shoulders, squaring her in front of him and looking her in the eye. "What's done is done, but you have to stop pulling this shit."
"You going to tell Rick?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically sheepish.
Daryl shook his head. "You know I ain't gonna throw you under the bus like that, girl." She nodded knowingly and offered him a small smile, glad she could trust him. "You got the other guys on the run to go along with it?"
"They were hesitant," she answered, "but yeah. They hate risking their asses to supply the Saviors. It didn't take much convincing, especially with that herd coming toward us. We had to make a decision quickly."
His face tensed a bit at the mention of the herd. "They going to keep quiet? Can't imagine the old senator'd be too happy if he found out about it."
"Telling him would mean incriminating themselves, too," she noted. "They'll stay quiet. Glenn will too, obviously."
"Alright," he nodded thoughtfully. "Where all did you guys go?"
Tilly smirked, glad for the subject change. "We just had time to hit the superstore before the herd showed up. We found plenty of stuff, though." She pulled the can of coffee out of her bag and held it up proudly. "This is probably my favorite find," she announced. "When's the last time you had caffeine?"
A grin spread over his lips as he eyed the treasure. "Hell if I know," he answered, taking the tin from her and examining it.
"Shame we don't have any cream to put in it," she sighed. "We need to find us some cows, get some dairy goin' on up in this place."
Daryl rolled his eyes and tossed the can back to her. "Guess you'll just have to drink it black," he chuckled. "It'll toughen ya up."
"You implying I'm not tough already, Daryl Dixon," she teased, shoving him playfully as she stood from the bed.
He laughed as he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her to sit across his lap. His warm hand brushed lightly across her cheek, his feather-light touch in stark contrast to his rough appearance. "You're the toughest person I know," he admitted quietly.
Tilly just shook her head. "Second to you, maybe."
The next week passed without incident as the survivors settled into a new routine in Alexandria.
Beth spent her days happily working in the garden. Though the weather was turning colder, and the yield was less-than-spectacular, she took great comfort in tending to the plants. She could practically hear her father's voice as she remembered all of his gardening lessons back on the farm. She could imagine the warm look in his kind eyes as she'd present him with a basket of vegetables she'd grown on her own.
"The Lord has provided us this bounty," he'd tell her, "with the aide of your hand. You were blessed with a green thumb, my dear."
She smiled at the memory as she yanked another handful of carrots from the ground and placed them into the old shopping basket hung over her arm. Their green foliage spilled over the red, plastic rim, dirt shaking through the holes in the bottom of the carrier with every step she took.
"Those things weren't looking so hot when you got here," a woman's voice called from behind the girl. "You've really helped perk them up."
"Thank you, Jessie," Beth turned to smile up at the older woman. "My daddy always said I was blessed with the gift of healing. I suppose that applies to vegetables, too."
Jessie chuckled a bit and reached forward to take the now-heavy basket from Beth, looping it over her long arm. The woman and Beth had developed a kinship as they worked together in the garden. Jessie looked to be in her late-30s with a kind face and dark hair that was cut into a long bob.
"How are you doing?" Beth asked politely. She couldn't help but notice that there was always a hint of sadness behind the woman's eyes. The pair still weren't close enough for her to pry too much, but she always made sure to ask how she was, just so she knew someone cared.
"Fine, thank you," she answered quietly with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I finally found that trowel you needed," Carol called as she made her way into sight, holding out the small instrument to Beth. She nodded to Jessie as well in greeting, allowing her eyes to stealthily dance over the dark-haired woman.
Jessie was someone Carol had taken an immediate interest in. Her kind, submissive manner reminded her of the way she used to be, back before Ed was ripped to pieces and she was finally liberated. Her eyes focused in on the arm that held the basket of carrots. Where Jessie's sleeve had crept up a little, she swore she could see the hint of purple and green on her wrist. She knew a thing or two about covering bruises herself.
She made a point of studying Jessie any time she saw her interacting with her husband, Pete. He was one of the doctors in the town and as such was generally revered by the community. He presented himself well, his demeanor friendly, but the way his wife and their son seemed to shrink into themselves when they were around him set off her internal alarm.
"How's your position treating you so far, Carol?" Jessie inquired politely, tugging her sleeve down absently around her wrist.
Carol offered the fidgeting woman a soft smile as she responded. "It's wonderful. All I do is cook and chat with the old folks all day, listen to them tell stories about the good ole days. Quite the change from all the running and fighting we'd been doing."
"I'm sure," Jessie nodded, returning her smile as she began to back away from the pair of women. "It's been nice seeing you both, but I have to run off to take Pete some lunch at the clinic. He won't be pleased if I'm late."
I bet he won't, Carol thought to herself, forcing a wave as she bit down on her tongue.
"You see it too, don't you," Beth said softly once Jessie was out of earshot.
"I'm sure I'm more aware to the signs than most," Carol responded, her eyes still watching the other woman's back as she made her way out of sight, "but it doesn't take a genius to see what's going on."
"What can we do?" The young blonde was visibly distressed, the knot in her gut telling her she needed to do something to assist.
Carol just shook her head. "There's nothing we can do," she answered flatly. "She has to figure it out for herself."
