Alright, guys. This is the very, very last chapter in this entire series and...hoo boy, I'm a little emotional. I want to thank you all, but, if ya'll don't mind, I'll do it at the end; it's the most important thing, and I want to save it for last. The final chapter song is "Agnes" by Glass Animals, the one I've been referencing for a little while now. It is one of my top five favorite songs of all time, it means so much to me, and at some point I hope you guys listen to it. Also, quite a bit has happened between this chapter and the last (five years' worth, in fact) and while I do explain some of it, other things I left a little vague. Idk why, but some of my favorite endings have little gaps for my own imagination to fill, and while I probably didn't get it perfect, I certainly tried. Hope ya'll enjoy.
37. Epilogue: Agnes
~m~
The morning was beautiful, pure blue above, the heat of the day not quite latched on yet. Perfect weather for running.
The music propelled him as he jogged through the sand. It had taken him a while, but he thought he finally understood why Mason had been so addicted to this.
He ran his usual circuit back and forth along the shore, relishing the burn in his muscles, the air rushing into his searing lungs, before eventually slowing. Sweat soaked him; he rubbed at his hair to un-stick it from his neck.
He took a quick dip in the ocean to cool off and then he made his way up the cliff to the woods. Alpha's head snapped at him, though with much less zeal than it used to five years ago. He flipped it off as he passed it, humming quietly to himself.
The graveyard sparkled in the early sun, each plot radiant with its accumulation of sea glass and shells. He grinned brightly at the sixth grave, the one with the flower crown hanging from its cross.
"Mornin', sunshine," he said and sat down next to it. "So I know I promised you last night that I would, and a Texas man always keeps his word, but I finally remembered that inappropriate joke. It's one that Abraham told me back on the road, and I confess it's likely one you've heard before but I thought it would appeal to your demented sense of humor, so I'm telling it all the same. What's the difference between oral and anal sex? Oral sex makes your day and anal sex makes your hole weak."
He swore he heard her beautiful giggle in the back of his mind. His eyes softened.
Last night he'd celebrated their anniversary. Seven years it would have been. And though she wasn't present physically, he'd spent the night with her anyway.
After dinner- a bright, riotous affair with his family- he'd rolled a joint, snatched a bottle of vodka and made his way to the cemetery. For the five years since her death, it had been his tradition. Get drunk, get high, weave her a crown of yellow and purple flowers. Sprawl out on his back next to her grave and stargaze, like they'd done so many times before. Sometimes he'd fall asleep and when he'd open his eyes, she'd be lying next to him, looking as real as ever. He didn't think they were dreams, even if he had to wake up from them.
It had become his tradition to visit her grave every normal day as well, at whatever time he was available, to read or play music or tell jokes or tell her about his day, to keep her updated on the family she'd left behind. He called it his meditation, and indeed he always felt calmer, more peaceful, afterward.
There was always so much to fill her in on. Like Tara and Denise's wedding. Like Renee and Rosita following their lead soon after. Like Theo's first word ("yay", which everyone agreed was spot on for his personality). Like Shiva having kittens, so now the house was overrun with cats. Like Daryl and Sherry expecting twins.
Like figuring out the cure.
Sasha had been right. He was a scientist now. He'd studied day and night the past few years to claim that title. He knew Mason would've gotten a kick out of the poeticism of the whole thing- and also out of seeing him in his lab coat and goggles. "You look so official," she would have teased.
It had taken him a long time. But he thought he'd finally cracked the code. He could not cure the dead, and hadn't ever expected to. But he thought he might be able to cure the living. What he'd theorized before from Sasha and Mason's illness turned out to be correct- the cure would make them invisible to walkers and halt the resurrection process. It would still be a long while before there was enough to give away to the rest of the survivors, however many were left, but he would do it. In any case, his family came first.
"I'll be checking in on the Solstice crew today," he said now. "If everything's hunky dunky, I will be sending them all home. Jesus has offered to play guide, although I wonder if he will return arm-in-arm with that stud he keeps making eyes at- Derek? He is quite handsome; he had me questioning my sexuality first time I met him."
In his head, Mason cackled and he grinned.
With Nick's help, he'd turned the brewery into a testing facility, a proper one. He had started out experimenting merely on walkers, though that had been slow going, nearly impossible. But then, Nick had left.
Eugene had offered him a place in the group. "You are welcome to stay, you and Fabi and Mateo," he'd said. "All three of you have done so much for us."
"I appreciate it, but I can't," Nick had replied. "I just...can't do groups anymore. Not after everything. Anyway, I want to try and find my sister. I want to know that she's okay, that she's fulfilled. But sometime, I may come back to visit. If that's alright."
"You will always be welcome here. You're family now."
Nick had grinned before kissing Eugene's cheek. "I'm honored," he'd said. Then he'd sighed. "You'll need people. To find a cure."
"I've been chewing the cud on that. It may be about time to enlist in some willing participants." His family was willing, he'd known, but he wasn't. Not until he was certain the cure worked. "I will do it the right way. No Alpha-level mind games. It will, however, be the hardest part in all this. I can't leave my family to go searching for patients. And I can't allow people to come here unless I know for certain they are no threat to us."
Nick had frowned thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging. "Maybe I can help with that."
And so, Nick became their long-distance recruiter.
Eugene discussed with him exactly what to say to potential allies, the questions to ask, warning signs to look out for. Nick already had the instinct for it, and after Alpha, after living among all the horrible people she'd enlisted in her cause, he'd also learned to be less trusting.
When Nick finally left, Eugene had hugged him goodbye and said, "Send the lost to us."
A few months later, the first of Eugene's living patients had found their way to the beach. They said they'd met Nick on the road, that he'd told them about a Chemist who had come back from the dead, who knew how to bring the world back from the dead, too.
Eugene had nearly rolled his eyes- another poet, just like Mason.
More of them had appeared over time, all of them recruited by Nick, all of them good people. He'd taken to calling them the Solstice crew.
And all of them had brought with them varying stories of the Chemist- and the Reaper.
Nick, apparently, was spreading tales of them wherever he went, some of them true, some of hilariously exaggerated. Suddenly the Vigilantes of the Apocalypse were legend. And not only them, but the others in their group as well. Maggie and Michonne, as well as Eugene, had become known as the Widows. According to some, Morgan was a real life Jedi. The Misfits were renowned for their spirit and skill, and were said to have trained for years in solitude on a mountain before the Reaper had enlisted them in the War.
It was strategy as much as storytelling, Eugene had quickly realized; no one wanted to fuck with someone Death had claimed as her soulmate, just as no one wanted to fuck with her elite warriors. So everyone that found their way to the beach were equal parts hopeful and intimidated.
And with their participation, with Renee and Denise's help, he'd found the cure.
"I think we may be able to start administering vaccines to our own as early as this week," Eugene said now. "Cards on the table, it is likely safe to do so already. I'm well aware I'm playing this very cautiously. But there is always the possibility that there was a fluke in my findings."
Possible, but highly improbable.
Even before his patients, he had been the first to inject himself with the vaccine. Renee and Denise had been furious, but he wouldn't have felt comfortable any other way. He had led the research to find the cure; the responsibility fell on his shoulders.
He'd experienced an increased heart rate and higher body temperature, though only by a few degrees. And then the next day, he had passed a pack of walkers and...nothing. He'd held out his arm for them to sniff, and they had merely cocked their heads and lumbered away. He'd been so excited, so floored by the whole thing, that he'd had to sit for a minute while his head stopped spinning.
After that, he had administered the vaccines to his patients, monitoring for adverse symptoms. But a good portion of his discoveries had stemmed from holistic remedies; the vaccine was gentle, but plainly effective, and no one became sick. And once their body temperatures had returned to normal- they hadn't even risen enough to justify calling them fevers- he'd taken them outside to see how the dead treated them.
Not a single walker had pursued them. Not a single one had tried to bite or scratch. They'd regarded them with lazy curiosity, as if they realized the crew was different from them but not different enough to be prey.
"And after our family, the Kingdom will be our next priority," Eugene continued.
They'd kept in contact with their Virginian family as much as they possibly could from separate coasts. They'd continued their annual pilgrimage there and back again, though that first one, after Mason...that first one had been hard.
He hadn't even been sure he'd wanted to make it, but he'd known Mason would have wanted him to go. He'd taken only a small group- Daryl, Renee, Tanner, Dave, and Rosita- unwilling to leave the rest of his family without a proper fighting force.
When they'd come to the gate without Mason, Ezekiel had taken one look at Eugene's face, at the grief in his eyes, and shaken his head.
"No," he'd said.
Eugene had steeled himself, reminding himself to be strong, and said simply, "Can we come in?"
After telling the story about Alpha and Mason, Ezekiel had wept, him and Jerry both. Eugene and his group had cried, too. And that night Ezekiel had held a banquet to honor her and the others.
"I am more sorry than words can convey," Ezekiel had said when it came time for Eugene to leave. "She was truly a queen in her own right, and the world is all the lesser without her. But you...you were quite blessed to have loved her."
Eugene had smiled. "My thoughts exactly, your Majesty."
"They really miss you, you know," he said now. "They still tell tales of the year their Kingdom became the Kingdom of the Dead. I miss you, too, though of course you already know that."
It never got easier. He hadn't expected that it would, but all the same...it still knocked the breath from him.
A gentle breeze drifted through the woods, ruffling the feather tied into his hair, and he thought he caught of trace of her scent.
He sighed, adjusting to the sorrow in his chest; it was second nature now, it had to be. Then he smiled and said, "Judy and Gracie have weapons training this afternoon. They're frighteningly good. In fact, the other day-"
His walkie talkie crackled, cutting him off.
"Eugene, you there?"
He grabbed it off his belt, his fingers brushing the revolver that sat next to it.
"Howdy, Daryl," he replied.
"Found some fresh faces out here on the edge of town. Nick sent 'em. Said they wanna talk to the Chemist."
"Go ahead and bring them to the usual spot. We'll be waiting."
Eugene got to his feet. "Sorry to cut our date short, love. But I'll be back, cross my heart."
He made his way back home.
~m~
They stood as one on the beach while Daryl led the newcomers toward them. It was a bigger group this time, ten in total, though they looked cautious rather than combative.
Eugene figured that was partly due to the fact that each of his people bore heavy artillery. In addition to his ongoing research with the cure, he had made a name for himself as the bullet maker. Chemist and metallurgist apparently. His family's weapons cache was enormous, more impressive than it had ever been. No one had wanted to fuck with them so far, and if anyone ever did...good luck to them.
He stood at the heart of his people, waiting. He wore Abraham's gloves, and tucked inside those gloves, against each palm, a little moon stone. He wore Abraham's necklace, Mason's wedding ring hanging next to the little red pendant. He wore Rick's revolver on his belt, and on the other side his own butterfly knife. Across his back, Mason's fire iron was slung. In his hair, her feather was woven. His body bore her scars in their entirety.
Daryl stopped the newcomers a few yards away, stepping back to aim his crossbow casually at them. With a quick, uncertain glance at him, the man at the head of the group said, "My name's Lewis. We traveled for a while back in Colorado with a man named Nick."
"And?" Michonne said- coolly, just in case. Everyone had become so very good at acting.
"And... We're looking for the Chemist."
No one in his family moved, but Eugene could feel them all tense. Waiting for his response.
He didn't hesitate.
Squaring his shoulders, he strode forward, pushing gently through his people until he stood at their head.
Right where he belonged.
"I am the Chemist," he said. "We call ourselves the Revenants. And I am the leader of these fine people."
And suddenly, at his side...he felt her.
Gentle fingers twining with his own, the warmth of her right arm brushing his left.
He didn't look, but he could feel her grinning at him. He could feel the pulse of her pride, her love, within him.
That's my Gene Bean.
He smiled just a little bit.
Then he addressed the strangers.
"Am I right in assuming Nick sent you here as potential patients?"
The man nodded, glancing back at his people. "Yes. We...a couple of us are sick. It took everything just to get here, but we heard...we heard there's a cure."
There was no guile on the man's face. Only fear for the well-being of his people.
Nick made a hell of a recruiter.
Eugene nodded. "Well, I'm glad you all managed the journey here. I assure you, we can help."
His family relaxed as he strode forward to shake the man's hand. They trusted his judgment. They trusted him.
"My name is Dr. Eugene Porter. And there is indeed a cure."
End
NOTE: Thank you guys. Thank you to everyone who has supported me through this very long series (it took literal years to finish and I genuinely thought I never would). Special thanks to my constant reviewers, DampishPoet and lindir's gaze. You two honestly kept me going when I probably would have otherwise quit. I am so, so thankful that you guys stuck with me this far, and I don't think I could convey how much it truly means to me. I didn't lie before; I'm actually getting pretty emotional writing this, which maybe sounds dumb, but this series is an end of an era for me. I'm glad I got to share with you. I wish you all the love in the world.
~themuse