"Hold your position until you hear from us."

"And if we don't hear from you?" Jesus challenged, already knowing the answer and not liking it.

"You know what to do," Rick said sternly, placing his hand behind Lana's shoulder and ushering her to start towards the road.

Without any further preamble Lana, Rick and Dianne set off with one another, strategically walking in a tight single file. She was the one leading the way, the only one among the three of them that the Oceanside would recognise, while Dianne would be bringing up the rear. Walking between them was Rick, his gender alone placing him at the greatest risk of being attacked, the most likely one that the Oceansiders would take on first. With the exception of his pistol they had taken only their knives and machetes, and they walked slowly with their hands raised by their sides. They were trying to make their approach a non-threatening one, hoping that their presence would be met with curiosity rather than fear.

They had walked a few minutes before the silence started to bother her, and so she took advantage of the fact that Rick couldn't see her face. "How's Maggie doing?"

The question was met with long silence, and she wasn't expecting him to answer at all when he finally did. "She's coping."

"And you?" she asked next, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder. She didn't want him to see her face right now, and nor did she want to see his. It would be too much for her. She wasn't strong enough to carry his grief too.

"Glad to be doing something," he murmured after another pause. "Thank you for this."

"Don't thank me yet," she said, turning her attention back to what was in front of her. "We could all be dead in ten minutes."

Breaking rank for just a moment, Dianne darted forward to take on a Walker on the road, one whose clothes were waterlogged and flesh slipping down it's face. They were close enough to the ocean that she was certain she could hear the waves crashing, that she could smell and taste the salt in the air. In spite of what they were there for it felt good to be back, for she had loved this place the first time her group had stayed her well over a year ago. It had reminded her of the camping trips her family had taken when she was younger, for though she had complained incessantly about them these days she treasured the memories.

"This is going to work," Dianne stated, firmly believing this. She wiped her knife on the Walker's clothing. "We're not exactly giving them much of a choice."

Conscious of just how true that was, Lana rehearsed her arguments inside her head, reminding herself that Oceanside were the ones indebted right now. She had been the one to tell them about this place, but more importantly she told them where they could steal weapons from the Saviours. That had been what set them up for survival, equipping them to defend themselves from both the dead and the living. But they had assured her they would only take a little, that they would hide the fact they had stolen from the Saviours, and then they screwed her over. It was because of them that she ended up in so much debt. Being caught for helping them was one thing, but being held responsible for what they stole made her situation so much worse.

Without warning Lana's worst fear for the day came true, the sound of a nearby gunshot making her lurch in fright. It felt like a shockwave went through her body, the sheer horror of them being fired upon almost rendering her frozen in panic. Behind her Rick yelled out in pain, bumping into her as she whirled around to see him. His face was a twisted grimace as he sank to his knees, Dianne already lunging at him to offer what protection she could.

"Don't shoot!" Lana cried out, looking around and raising her hands into the air. "Don't shoot!"

She looked at Rick in terror, feeling her heart in her throat as she looked for blood, and the sight of him moving was a small relief. Please not Rick…not Carrie's husband.

"I'm okay," he was panting, though he didn't try to get up. "…caught it…"

"Don't shoot!" she yelled again, wanting them to hear her from any distance. Trying to gauge from which direction he had been shot she slowly backed up towards him and Dianne, trying to block the shooter's line of sight. "It's me! It's Lana!"

There was a commotion in the trees nearby, but when she saw figures rising with guns pointed their way she was relieved. She didn't have the strength to take on Walkers hand to hand right now, but what she could do was talk. Though she'd met them only once she thought she recognised a few of the faces that appeared on both sides of the road, and with this hope she repeated her name again.

"Hands in the air!" someone shouted at them, a woman with closely cropped dark hair advancing on them. "Hands in the air and get on your knees!"

"We're not armed."

"On your knees!" someone else shouted.

Recognising the voice Lana whirled around with her hands in the air, watching as Cyndie advanced on Rick and Dianne. They were settling onto their knees, Rick panting as he looked up at the armed women surrounding them all, and though he looked pissed as hell that they had shot him he said nothing, instead leaving it to Lana to handle. He clutched at his shoulder, hunched over as he continued trying to catch his breath.

"Cyndie," she said urgently. "Cyndie, it's me. Lana."

Cyndie looked around at her strangely, blinking in disbelief. "Lana? From the Sanctuary?"

"Yes, but I-"

"Get on your knees," she growled, turning the gun to her now.

"I'm not with them anymore," she said urgently. As she spoke she slowly lowered herself to her knees, flinching in discomfort when the motion made her wound twinge. "I'm not a Saviour anymore."

"Sure you're not."

"I'm not," she repeated, looking Cyndie in the eye. "I think you know it's the truth…otherwise, why haven't you shot me?"

"Don't tempt us," Beatrice warned, coming up behind her. "Don't fucking move."

While the others separated Rick and Dianne from one another, Beatrice grabbed her arms and pulled them down, roughly yanking off her coat. "Beatrice, don't hurt me," she said quickly, hunching forward a little. "I'm pregnant, and I've just surgery."

Ignoring her, Beatrice tossed her coat aside and then tugged on the straps of the kevlar vest. In an instant it was gone, the folded shirt that had served as padding over her stomach falling to the ground. Elsewhere the Oceansiders were doing the same to Rick and Dianne, ridding them of their jackets before removing their kevlar vests. When his was removed Lana scoured his body for any signs of blood, relieved to see a only a small tear in the back of his shirt. Judging by the slackening of his right shoulder as he held his hands in the air, that was where he had been shot.

"Don't try anything," Beatrice warned, coming around in front of her know. "What's this surgery you had?"

"My appendix."

Though her glare was on of great skepticism, Beatrice crouched down and lifted Lana's shirt, her features softening when she saw the surgical dressing.

"Bullshit," someone else commented. "She could be hiding anything under that."

"Please don't open it," she said, recoiling when she saw Beatrice reaching for the edge. "Your hands are filthy."

She looked at her incredulously, glancing at the others before backing up a little and raising her gun again. "You open it then. I want to see."

Reluctant to do so, Lana reached down with one hand and picked at the edge of the dressing, catching it enough to slowly peel back the adhesive edges. She inspected the week old wound, pleased to see that the new pad was damp with old blood and fluid. Just as it had been all week the drain Carson inserted was working well, helping to clear her abdomen of the mess he had made inside of her.

"Oh, gross," Beatrice said in revulsion, pulling a face as she moved back even more.

"I told you."

"Is tha…is that a straw and a safety pin?"

"It's not a straw, but it is a safety pin," she said, gently putting the dressing back in place and smoothing it down.

While her hand was there she gestured to the pocket of her sweatpants, indicating what she was doing before reaching in. Cyndie flexed her grip on the rifle she held, reminding her of its presence. Without a word she took out her most prized possession, the ultrasound of the baby. By now every man, woman and child at the Hilltop had been forced to look at her ultrasound, Lana proudly showing it to everyone but Gregory, the leader so rarely seen outside of Barrington House. Just like everyone else Beatrice looked at the ultrasound in wonder, awed not only that she was pregnant, but that she had the means of seeking an ultrasound.

"Congratulations," Cyndie said softly, looking her up and down.

"Thanks," was her reply. She wouldn't tire of hearing that word, something that no one had dared say to her given her initial intentions towards the pregnancy. Now though everyone was saying it to her, even someone holding a gun in her face.

"You remember me, right?"

There was a long pause now, Beatrice and Cyndie considering her at great length before responding. "Of course we remember you," Beatrice replied. She reached down to pass the photograph back, but she was keeping her distance. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help."

Beatrice shook her head. "That's not gonna happen."

"At least hear me out, please."

"No," came another voice, this one louder and more authoritative.

Knowing who it was, Lana looked back to see Natania striding down the road, flanked by two more woman bringing their total captors to at least a dozen. She had aged since the last time Lana saw her, grief had a way of doing that, but she was still as powerful and intimidating as she had been the first day she had met her. Her greying hair and lined face was not to be mistaken for grandmotherly kindness.

"Why are they still alive?" she questioned, pointing to Rick in particular.

"Grandma," Cyndie implored stepping back from Lana to reveal her. "It's Lana. She-"

"I know who she is," she said unkindly, looking down at her. "I don't care."

"But Gran-"

"You said we would never see you again," Natania berated her, looking down at her in disgust. "That you or your scum would never darken our doorstep."

"I'm not with the Saviours anymore."

"I don't care who you're with. You're not welcome here." She looked around at the woman expectantly. "Shoot them all."

There was a flurry of discontent from among their captors, and then Rick spoke up for the first time. "That would be a mistake. Natania, isn't it?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'm Rick Grimes," he answered. "I'm the leader of a community like yours. The Saviours came for us too."

"I'm Dianne," Dianne introduced herself next. "I'm from another community the Saviours have under their control. We have a representative from a third group too, he's waiting out on the highway. You're not alone in this."

Though she listened to their introductions, Natania was unmoved. "Your problems are not my own."

"Killing us will be a mistake," Rick repeated, looking around at all of them. "If all five of my people don't make it home tonight, more of my people will come for you."

Though his threat was made gently, it's magnitude was clear. As could be expected it rubbed Natania up the wrong way, compelling her to repeat her former instruction that they all be killed, but to Lana's relief no one moved. There was silence from every Oceansider, their fingers poised on the triggers but not yet willing to go all the way.

"I said to shoot them," Natania shouted, drawing her own gun.

"Grandma, no," Cyndie pressed, darting between her and Rick. "I think we should hear them out."

"Cyndie, yo-"

"If more of them know where we are, we can't kill them. We can't."

"She's right," Beatrice spoke up, a few others murmuring in agreement.

"At least hear me out," Lana requested. "You owe me that much at least."

"We owe you nothing," Natania snarled, not even softening when Cyndie put her hand on top of her gun and forced her to lower it.

Ready to take a risk, Lana pocketed the ultrasound photo and then slowly pushed herself up to her feet, ready to advocate for her people. For so long people like Rick had advocated for her, supported her and risked everything…now it was time for her to return the favour.

"You do owe me, Natania. When I helped you escape Negan you were no one to me, but I helped you, and then you fucked me over! I told you to take just a little, but you took everything you could. Negan blamed me for what you stole, I had to marry him just to break even, so don't say you owe me nothing."

"We didn't ask for your help," Natania countered, staring her down.

"But you took it."

"And Arat? Where was my granddaughter-in-law, hmm?" she questioned. "Why didn't she help us?"

"You know she couldn't. She couldn't leave the Sanctuary, and even when she could, she couldn't face you. Not after what happened to Quincey."

"You mean after she killed my son?"

"Negan killed your son," Lana said firmly. "Not Arat. It's not her fault he made her chose someone."

Natania looked down at her in disdain, her features not softening even once. Nevertheless Lana didn't stop trying, suspecting that it wasn't necessarily Natania who she had to convince.

"When I left the Sanctuary, Rick's group took me in. They gave me a home, and he asked for nothing in return. Even when he found out who I was, he let me stay," she emphasised, glancing at him as she spoke. "He didn't turn me away, didn't even consider it. Then when I got sick, his people risked everything to help me."

"A lovely story," Natania said quietly, but she hadn't softened. "But a story of no interest to me."

"Negan killed two of our people the way he killed your son. He beat them to death right in front of us, and he laughed. He's taken my baby's father, he's trying to turn him like he turned Arat…and he's taken Rick's wife too. She's about to have a baby. Any day now, she's going to have a baby."

It was the latter comments that sent of flurry through the Oceansiders, and Lana watched as their faces fell, horrified and outraged by what she had told them. A few of them starting talking with one another under their breaths, glancing at Natania and awaiting her response, but it was clear the leader was not convinced.

"Grandma," Cyndie murmured. "We shoul-"

"No," Natania declared loudly, her features hard and cruel as she looked around at her group, her family. "You shouldn't have come here. You knew what we would do to you."

"We should talk to them."

"Please, Natania. Hear us out," Lana pleaded. "You don't want to live in fear anymore, and neither do we. We can help each other."

"We are not good," Natania said boldly, her eyes narrowed as she moved towards her. "And we are not brave. You are…and that's why you're in this mess."

"Grandma, no," Cyndie implored, stepping in front of her when she raised her gun again. "This is not your decision. It's everyone's."

Natania looked at her in outrage, her eyes widening. "You've forgotten," she accused, sounding hurt. She looked past Cyndie, ignoring the intruders and looking only to her own people. "Some of you actually want to fight them? After everything?"

"I haven't forgotten," Cyndie insisted, pushing her gun out of the way before turning back to the others. "But we should hear them out. For Arat's sake at least."

A heavy silence fell, everyone present holding their breath and waiting to see what would happen next. Did Natania even hold any sympathies for her former group member? Lana turned to Rick, feeling tentatively confident with how this was playing out. She had known all along that while Natania was the group's leader, it wasn't her that they had to convince. The silence came from the hesitation of the others, hesitation to speak in defiance of their leader, hesitation to risk everything the life they had managed to piece back together.

Without warning the women lowered their guns and advanced on them, having made their decision without need for further debate. But Lana's heart leapt into her throat when they converged on Rick and Dianne, their faces set in determination.

"Please…wait!"

Kneeling with their hands in the air neither Rick nor Dianne had means of defending themselves, but they didn't even try. While one person came up behind them and seized both of their hands another also approached, wielding the butt of a rifle. With a swift thrust they hit each of them hard over the head, Lana crying out no! when they both slumped over to the ground. Behind her she could hear Natania yelling at them, ordering the intruders to be killed, but the group wasn't listening to her anymore.

With Beatrice still holding her at gunpoint there was nothing Lana could do but watch on, helpless to do anything. On the ground Dianne was unconscious already while Rick was clumsily trying to push himself back up, his body weak and his head hanging pitifully. He was saying something, faltering when he tried to clutch the side of his head, but with another cruel blow he slumped back onto the road unconscious.

"Beatrice, don't hurt us," she implored, lowering her hands and bringing them in front of her body, needing to protect herself. Her baby had somehow managed to survive her serious illness…how much more could it take?

"Do as you're told, and we won't have to."

In complete defiance of Natania whose aggrieved protests were going unheard, the women were picking Rick and Dianne up by their hands and feet. With a few grunts of complaint they lifted their limp bodies from the ground and began carrying them down the road, though they at least made the effort to ensure their limp heads didn't scrape along the road. As she watched them be carted away Lana cooperated fully, even when Cyndie roughly bound her hands with a short length of rope, but when she tugged her to start walking in the opposite direction she faltered.

"Wait," she implored, looking over her shoulder at Rick and Dianne. "Where are you taking them?

"They'll be fine."

"Where are you taking me?

Still looking over her shoulder, she watched on pity as Natania was left with no choice but to go along with things, her authority flouted by the people she loved unconditionally.

"How many more are out there?" Cyndie demanded, holding her around the upper arm as they walked back the way they had come. "On the highway."

"Two," she answered, and she apprehensively turned her attention to the others escorting them. She didn't recall who they were, but their names were the least of her concern now. Her escort was a total of six, each of them carrying a rifle and fully prepared to defend their home, regardless of their apparent willingness to hear them out. "They won't do anything. They'll stand down."

"Yeah, they will," Beatrice said roughly, backing up a few paces and then pointing her rifle at her. "I mean, if they like you they will."


Their first meeting with Oceanside had gone about as well as they could expect it to given the circumstances. Although they had shot him in the shoulder and knocked him out, at the very least they were all alive…or so Rick suspected. He had come around just as they dumped him on the dusty carpet of this room, his eyes fluttering open to see them cuffing both hands to the frame of a bunk bed. His head still fuzzy he made no protest when someone roughly patted him down for other weapons, taking the knife from his back pocket and then pulling off his duty belt. Finishing up they removed each of his boots and gave them a hearty shake, but when they found nothing inside them they tossed them onto the bed.

Satisfied he posed no threat in his current restraints they let him be, closing the door and locking him inside without so much as a word. He allowed himself a few minutes to lay on the floor and come around, his head pounding and shoulder aching from where his kevlar had caught a bullet for him. Grateful to be alive he gingerly pulled himself up and then sat on the lower bunk, head bowed until he found the motivation to look up and learn about his surroundings. The room was empty but for the bunk bed pushed into the corner, at the foot of which was a wall mounted table and stool, the cheap wooden vinyl indicating it dated back to at least the eighties. Aside from the mattress the room was unfurnished and without interest, and outside the window he could see only trees. Cob webs lined the interior corners and the window outside, a large black spider perched in its web.

To be expected he had a splitting headache, already feeling a lump forming above his right brow. Wishing for an ice pack he settled himself in for a long wait, keeping eyes and ears alert for anything even as his head was cradled in his hands. Yesterday when he went to the Hilltop to see Lana he hadn't expected the news she had given him, nor that he would find himself setting off in search of a fourth community, one who were in her debt. How naive he had been the day he arrived in Alexandria over a year ago. Back then they felt so isolated, like they were the only living souls left on the earth. But they were not alone, and just like always the world proved to be larger and stronger than expected. Humanity lived on, even if he couldn't see it himself.

A loud bang on the window made him jump in surprise, and he looked up to see the sole of a boot pressed against the exterior of the glass. Beneath it the black spider was squashed, the legs twitching as the person holding the shoe gave it a turn for good measure, and then his stomach turned in revulsion. He thought of that night almost a week ago, the way he could see Glenn's hand twitching even after he was surely dead.

Trying to push that thought out of his mind he looked back up in time to see the boot disappear, noticing at the last minute that it's size was quite small. Curious as to who was out there he waited patiently, rewarded when the small face of a young girl appeared in the window. Surely no older than early teens a young girl with a mass of light brown curls peered inside at him, but her eyes were not filled with childhood curiosity, and were instead cold and calculating. She stared at him, her upper lip having curled in obvious distaste for what she saw. Despite her sour expression her round cheeks betrayed her youth, and he realised she wasn't as old as he first thought, perhaps no more than eleven years old.

Taking a chance, Rick waved one of his hands in a small wave, fully expecting her expression to soften. But she seemed to look at him in disdain, the kind of look Carl would give him when he felt he was being unfairly reprimanded. A moment later she too raised her hand to him, and he was astonished to see her sticking her middle finger up at him. He quirked an eyebrow in disbelief…did that kid really just flip him the bird?

Behind him the door began to open, both he and the girl outside turning their attention to whoever was coming inside. It was Cyndie, the girl who called Natania Grandma, and she was carrying a plate of toast and mug in her hands. But the moment she looked up and saw the girl outside the window her face twisted into bewildered outrage.

"Rachel!" she shouted angrily. "What th-"

As the girl outside fled Cyndie was quick to give chase, not sparing Rick a second glance as she hastily put down the plate and mug before rushing out. As she left she slammed the door shut and turned a lock, not that he could have gone anywhere in his current position. The girl had reappeared outside the window, clearly playing games with Cyndie. She smirked at him again before raising her middle finger a second time, apparently caring very little when Cyndie caught up with her. With nothing else to do and unable to reach the food that had been brought in, Rick listened to what he could hear of the conversation outside the window.

"What did he say to you?"

Rachel just looked at her in exasperation, not caring that she was in trouble. "Nothing."

"W-well what did you say to him?"

"Nothing," she emphasised, rolling her eyes as she looked back inside at him. "I flipped him the bird."

"You…you what?" Cyndie asked, stepping between her and the window.

"You heard me. I flipped him the bird."

For a moment Cyndie seemed to just stand there, shaking her head. "Just go, Rachel."

"I'm not afraid of him."

"Go," she repeated, raising her voice a little.

A long moment passed while Cyndie stood there outside the window, perhaps at the end of her tether where Rachel was concerned. Trying to get on with things she quickly departed and then came back into the cabin, Rick listening as her footsteps approached. The lock turned and then she was back, tentatively looking inside at him.

"Sorry about her," she muttered, crouching down and picking up the toast from the floor. She brushed it off and returned it to the plate, and she gave him a stern warning as she approached. Setting the plate and mug onto the window sill she quickly backed away, wanting to be clear of him should he try anything.

"I hope this isn't going to be my last meal?"

"It's not," Cyndie murmured, taking the stool from the built in table and bringing it a little closer. Still giving herself plenty of room away from him she sat down and looked at him, restlessly placing her hands on her knees. "Hungry, huh?"

Having not wasted a moment Rick had taken a bite from the toast, not caring that it was cold or that it had been on the dusty old floor. They had left the Hilltop in the middle of the night, and while they had made a stop at the Kingdom to get Dianne they hadn't stopped for breakfast. Though they'd done little to warrant it he was confident the food was safe for him to eat, a conclusion supported by two white pills on the edge of the plate, Tylenol. They wouldn't spare pain relief medication to someone they were going to kill. Though it was awkward with his hands looped around the frame of the bunk bed he picked up the mug and looked at the liquid, disappointed to see that it was tea rather than coffee.

"Are my people okay?" he asked, taking a sip of the tea which was at least hot. "Dianne. Lana?"

"Yes."

"And the ones who were waiting out on the road?"

"They're fine too"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and though his instincts trusted her he tested her anyway. "In which case, you won't have any trouble telling me their names."

"Michelle and Jesus."

"Michonne," he corrected, though politely. There was silence now, Rick satisfied with Cyndie's answers.

Cyndie allowed him to eat without interruption, but as he neared the last bite of toast she reached into her pocket. "Your kids?"

He looked up, annoyed to see a photograph of Carl and Judith. It was the one he carried in the pouch of his duty belt, one from her first birthday, and there were others too. "Yes."

Returning the photograph to the small stack she shuffled through two more of his children before reaching another, and she showed him one taken of he and Carrie the day they got married. "Your wife?"

"Yes."

She turned to the final picture. "And who's she?"

He had known this one was coming, of course she would ask about it, but he made him want to grind his teeth to see a stranger holding the photograph of himself, Carl and Lori. It was treasured to him, something he carried on his person at all times so that if the worst happened Judith would always have a picture of her mother. In other moments he would admit only to himself that the photograph of Lori was for his benefit too, that sometimes he felt guilt stricken for the happy life he was leading with his new wife.

"She's my children's mother. She died almost two years ago."

Though he was sure she sympathised, Cyndie showed no sign of it. Instead she simply shuffled back to the picture of he and Carrie, peering down at it in interest. "Lana said Negan's got her," she questioned, gesturing to the picture. "That she's pregnant."

"She'll give birth any day now."

Cyndie nodded, looking at the pictures a moment longer before raising her eyes to his. "What's your plan to help her?"

"There's not a great deal I can do," he admitted, the words difficult to say out loud. "I have to wait, earn Negan's trust. Hope he gives her back."

"What about the baby?" she pressed, trying to get a deeper answer out of him. "It's coming any day now."

"I'll probably miss it," he murmured, having begun entertaining this possibility. He wasn't holding out hope that Negan would let him be there with Carrie, that he could support her through labour and be there the moment their child was born. "Like I said. I have to wait until he gives her back."

"And the other guy he's got?"

"Daryl."

"What are you going to do about him?"

It was this question that Rick had no answer to. "I want him back too," he said, this not really being an answer. He knew by now the reality of what Daryl faced, that if it came down to it he was willing to wage attack against the Sanctuary even if Daryl was still there, even if it meant risking his life. He knew that Daryl wouldn't want him to wait, not if the right opportunity arose. Once Carrie and the baby were safe, Daryl would want him to do whatever it took to bring down Negan.

"And then?" Cyndie pressed. "How are you going to take them down?"

So that's what she had been leading too. "You want to know how I'm going to do it?"

"You've asked for my group's help, to go to war with you. I think that gives me the right to ask some difficult questions."

"It does," he agreed, taking another sip of the hot tea before explaining the plan which was still in infancy. "There will be three communities going up against him, four with Oceanside. Even then we haven't got the numbers to match them…but we have a strategy. We need your help so that we can hit them all at once, one clean kill. And right now, we haven't got enough people power."

"You just said you don't have the numbers."

"We don't need to match them man for man, but we'll be spread thin trying to take down every outpost at once. We want at least five groups of people at once, six would be better. We're going to need this place too, Oceanside."

"What for?" she questioned darkly.

"We need somewhere to evacuate the people who are most vulnerable. Babies and children, the elderly. Right now there's certain territory that the Saviours don't enter, and those people are safe there, but it won't be like that for long. Once we put up a fight, all bets are off for that territory. We need somewhere safe for people to go."

Though she had listened, now Cyndie shook her head and leant back. Crossing her arms across her chest she was closing him out, cutting her body language off from him. "Your people, maybe," she conceded. "But I'm not sure we're willing to get involved any more than that."

Though his restraints made it difficult, Rick leant towards her a little, holding eye contact. "Cyndie, this is your war too. This is your freedom you'd be fighting for."

She shook her head again. "My grandmother doesn't see it that way."

He raised his eyebrows, feigning disbelief. "I didn't think she'd have a problem with fighting. Lana told me you've fought back before."

"Yes, and it cost us everything," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Twelve of us died in the fight itself, and then thirty were executed. Lined up, shot in the face one after the other. Children."

"I know what they did to you."

"No you don't," she argued. "We used to be a big group, over ninety of us before they came along. We were happy, we were living our lives. We weren't hurting anyone."

"Neither was I," he emphasised, begging her to hear him. "Neither were my people, and now three of us are dead and two more are being held hostage, including my unborn baby. I am fighting for their freedom, and I'm asking you to fight for yours too."

Cyndie stared at him, unconvinced. "Look around. We have our freedom."

"I don't see that, I don't see freedom at all. All I see is you living in fear."

"At least we're living."

"But for how long?" he countered. "Even without the Saviours, how long have you really got here? What are your plans for the future?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mortality rates these days are pretty damn high, and I couldn't help but noticing you've got one hell of a gender imbalance."

Angered now, it was Cyndie who leant towards him, trying to make herself perfectly clear. "We don't need men."

"For some things, you do. What about the young boys here?"

"What about them?"

"They can't be far from puberty. Then what? Will you expect them to be a stud to every woman here?"

Blinking at him for a moment Cyndie's features twisted into revulsion. "That's disgusting," she spat, getting to her feet in outrage. "You're sick."

"Then what's your plan for longevity? Two males to keep this community going into new generations? Or are you just going to let yourselves die out one day?"

"We're alive now."

Rick refused to accept this. "The children here deserve a future. They're going to want to have a family one day. They'll want to leave this place and live freely in the world. By refusing to fight, you are denying them a world that is theirs by right."

Cyndie's hands were clenched into fists, her eyes narrowed in anger, but for the first time she had nothing to say, no argument to throw back. Silence fell between them, and seeing that she was deep in thought Rick didn't rush to break it.

"I would fight with you," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "So would others…but we're not the ones you have to convince."

"Then let me talk to your grandmother."

Cyndie shook her head. "She's already decided. You people are going home."

"I just want to talk to her."

Cyndie turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind herself. He listened as she turned the key in the lock to secure him inside, hearing the sound of her heavy footsteps walking away. Wishing that had gone better he took one more sip of the tea and then set it aside. Getting to his feet he fumbled around in the waistband of his jeans, trying to find the right spot. Sewn into a fold of fabric on the inner waistband was a tiny metal key, the spare to the handcuffs that were currently secured around his waist. Wishing he had put a longer piece of string on the key itself he awkwardly fumbled to bring it to the cuff and slip it into the lock, the precaution of keeping a spare key at hand having paid off. Merle Dixon knew all too well how easy it was to drop these damn things, and his was not a situation Rick wanted to ever find himself in.

Freeing himself he stowed the cuffs in his pockets, while the key was carefully slipped back into the small fold of fabric inside his waistband. Free of the bunk bed he gently rolled his right shoulder back, cringing at the discomfort in his shoulder blade and wondering if he might have suffered a small fracture. His coat had been tossed over the end of the bed, and he looked at the new hole in the back before slipping it on and getting out of that room.

Though his actions made him liable to get shot again, for some reason he trusted these people, confident that there were enough of them who wanted to hear him out. Pleased that Rachel had taken care of the spider outside the window he slowly lifted the pane, and though it took a little convincing he managed to raise it enough. Having checked no one was around he deftly slipped through, mewling in discomfort as his shoulder protested. Closing the window on the other side he dusted off the cobwebs he had attained on the way out and then looked around, seeing only dense trees all around.

With every intention of taking a good look around the place he set off, taking care of where and how he walked to as to not draw attention to himself. But no sooner then he turned around did he come face to face with that damn kid again, Rachel. She appeared from around the corner and stood in his way, giving him a smug stare that clearly indicated she was proud to catch him trying to escape. Christ, this was the last thing he needed right now.

"Don't scream," he said apprehensively, raising one hand in front of himself.

Rachel glared at him defiantly, and he saw her chest rise as she took a deep breath. She let out a blood curdling scream, proudly holding his gaze as she ruined any chance he had of taking a look around the place. Faced with no other choice he preemptively lowered himself to his knees and raised his hands to his head, looking forward to any opportunity to put this brat back in her place.


Not to anyone's surprise, the Oceansiders hadn't taken well to his blatant escape. He now sat in Natania's living room, hands bound behind his back with no idea where the rest of his group were, but he had an audience with her. She was prowling back and forth across the room, pacing restlessly as she and Cyndie debated what to do with him. Just as Cyndie had warned, it was Oceanside's leader putting up the most resistance to what he had asked them to do, it was Natania who didn't want to fight.

"We can't change what's already happened," he spoke up, glad when she seemed to be listening. "The Saviours slaughtered your people, they took your son from you, they took Arat, we can't change that. Let's talk about the things we can change."

She shook her head, having none of it. "We want to be left alone," she emphasised, making a point of flexing her grip around her gun, an impressive AMT Automag.

"We want you to fight, and not just for us. Fight for yourselves."

"We tried that," she insisted, her face twisted into a pained scowl. "We lost too much. We're not going to lose anymore."

"And what about your people here?" he challenged her, not at all concerned when she tried to head for the door. "You're their leader."

"And I'm keeping them alive!" she shouted, her volume making Cyndie startle. "You should have all been shot on sight."

"You're their leader," he repeated. "It's gotta be about more than keeping them alive," he implored. "You have to provide these children a future."

"They have a future."

"And is this all there is for them? This camping ground? Is this all they'll ever have?"

"It's not your concern."

"What about when the Saviours find you here?" he asked next, challenging her. "What's that going to be like knowing you could have stopped them?"

"That's never going to happen."

"It could," he implored. "Everyday communities like mine are making them stronger and ourselves weaker. They're going to keep looking for more groups. What's to stop them coming south and finding you again?"

"You're fools if you think you can take them on!" she shouted at him, so enraged she was practically foaming at the mouth. "All of you, fools! We tried to take them on too, we thought we stood a chance, but we didn't."

"You tried to fight them alone, but that's not happening this time. We've got three communities already, and we need to do this right. We need you Natania…we need this group."

"And your children, hmm?" she questioned. She marched over to her table and seized the pictures Cyndie had taken from his duty belt, brandishing them at him. "Your son looks like a fine young man. Are you prepared to see him die?"

"No. That's why I'm fighting for him."

"You'll put his life at stake? The lives of all your children?"

For a moment he considered holding his tongue, conscious that Natania's son had been the first casualty of Negan, but if there was ever a time to argue it was now. "My youngest hasn't even taken their first breath, and their life is already at stake," he said lowly. "I know what I have to lose…it's why I'm fighting."

Natania shook her head, tossing the photographs at him. "You're a foolish man. Take what you have left, and run."

"I can't do that."

"Then I hope you don't have to see your child beaten to death," she spat. "But maybe that's what it takes for people like you and I to see sense."

Having said all there was Natania left, but not before sending a withering glare in her granddaughter's direction. When she departed she slammed the cabin door so hard the windows shook, leaving Rick and Cyndie in a painfully uncomfortable silence. For a long few moments he sat there looking at the back of the door, wondering what he could salvage from the situation. He glanced at Cyndie, the young woman standing against the wall with her arms folded and eyes focused on the fraying carpet. After he had been recaptured and escorted into Natania's cabin she had taken her place against the wall and remained there, saying not a single word when Natania berated her for allowing him to escape. But now that it was just the two of them again he wondered if he could push things a little, hoping that there was something she could do.

"Cyndie?"

At first she ignored him, not responding even when he called her name a second time. Another minute passed in silence, and then she seemed to come to some kind of resolution, perhaps having made her decision. She cleared her throat and looked up, and even from across the room he could see that her eyes had been brimming with tears. Though he knew very little of this community, Natania's late son must be Cyndie's father. He wondered if Cyndie had been there the day he died, if she had watched her father die at the hands of Negan.

"It's a no from us," Cyndie murmured quietly, clearing her throat again before heading for the door.

Not even ten minutes later Rick found himself reunited with the others, glad to note that aside from a sizeable bruise on Dianne's forehead, everyone was unharmed. They too bound with cable ties, Dianne, Lana, Michonne and Jesus were waiting for him outside Natania's cabin, while around them a dozen or so Oceansiders stood guard. It was a peculiar site to behold, particularly with the background spectators who were nervously watching from afar, curious as to the strangers. Among them was Rachel, the young girl perched high in a tree so that she could see what happened, but unlike before she made no effort to interact with him when he stepped outside.

"Time to go," the woman named Kathy declared, ushering the others to their feet. Over her shoulder she carried Michonne's katana, but gave no indication that it was to be returned.

Complying with the instructions Rick and the others set off with their dozen guards, making their departure quickly and without fuss. They were afforded no opportunity to speak with one another as they walked, and when he noticed that Lana looked unusually pale he couldn't even ask if she was okay. Nevertheless there wasn't complete silence, for he could hear quiet murmurs being passed back and forth between the Oceansiders. Intermittently he looked up to observe the group dynamic, noting that they talked quietly amongst themselves, seeming to dislike the fact that he had noticed their discussion.

"You've got enough gas to get back to where you're from?" Beatrice asked when they reached their car.

"We have enough," he confirmed, though he didn't think for a second that her concern was for their wellbeing, but for them to be as far away as possible. "You won't reconsider?"

Beatrice didn't respond, simply ushering them all to line up alongside the car while the Oceansiders stood watch over them, their guns still raised. They backed away before Kathy tossed Michonne's katana over a nearby fence and into the grass, leaving it for them to keep, but making sure it couldn't be retrieved in time to hurt them. Cyndie did the same thing with Rick's duty belt too and everyone else's weapons, while the small pistol he had brought with him remained in her pocket.

"That's it?" Lana asked, sounding genuinely hurt. "Seriously?"

The group didn't respond at first, more concerned with backing up from them and keeping them at gun point until they felt safe. They were twenty yards away by the time they took pause, another murmur sweeping through them as they began to discuss again. As he waited Rick held his breath, quietly hopeful that they would come through for them. Lana had said all along that it wasn't Natania they needed to convince, but rather the rest of them. Her observation appeared to be playing out before their eyes, the Oceansiders looking at them hesitantly as their conversation reached a conclusion.

"Do you remember where the old sign used to be?" Cyndie asked as she came forward, speaking to Lana.

"Two miles back," she answered. "I remember. You took it down like I said?"

Cyndie nodded, glancing around at her people before taking a deep breath. "Meet us there in two days. Exactly two days," she added to clarify. "And only you five. No one else, or we'll shoot."

"You'll talk to Natania?" Rick confirmed.

"I'll try," she agreed quietly.

"Thank you."

"We haven't agreed to anything," Kathy added, making a point of clearing that up. "But for what it's worth, we're sorry about the guns we took."

Lana gave a bitter laugh. "You mean, sorry for throwing me under the bus?"

"You said they'd never know it was you, and that they wouldn't blame Arat," she shrugged. "So we took everything we could."

"We're sorry," Cyndie said next, sounding like she meant it. "Really, Lana."

It looked as though Lana wasn't quite ready to let it go, the situation they left her in having been the last straw that forced her to marry Negan, but to her credit she said nothing. Having said all there was to say the Oceansiders resumed their retreat, holding them at gun point for a few more yards before disappearing into the trees. As though they needed time to process the magnitude of what they achieved Rick and the others stood motionless for a few minutes, simply taking it all in. They hadn't quite reached their goal, but in two days they would know whether or not this community was willing to fight with them or not. Despite the resistance, Rick was willing to bet that at least some of them would join.

Without a word of discussion they got to work, Dianne, Jesus and Michonne heading towards the fence where their possessions waited on the other side. With their hands behind their backs it proved to be a tricky task, but with Dianne and Jesus crouching down Michonne deftly used them to step over the fence and jump to the other side. She fumbled about in the grass for a few moments, but when she managed to find one of their knives she carefully used it to cut the cable ties around Jesus' wrist. With his hands free he made quick work of freeing the rest of them, and in minutes they were almost ready to get back on the road. When he secured his duty belt back around his waist he opened one of the pouches and looked inside, relieved to find that Cyndie had returned his pictures.

"You handled yourself well today," he said quietly to Lana, sensing that she needed the reassurance. "I know you didn't want to give them up, but you did the right thing."

"Thanks."

Hearing a strange tone in her voice he looked around, worried to find that she looked rather unwell. Her her cheeks appeared flushed while the rest of her skin was pale, and he wondered if she had pushed herself too far that day. Carson had been reluctant for her to make this trip today, preferring that she instead remain at the Hilltop and continue resting. After all, she had nearly died five days ago.

"I think we should get you back to Carson," he murmured, ushering her towards the car. "Maybe you should ride up front."

She nodded in agreement and headed for the front passenger seat, but when she opened the door she came to a sudden stop, becoming completely still. Hovering behind her he asked what was wrong, his mind going to worst case scenario as he waited for her to respond, but when she suddenly slapped her hand across her mouth he understood the familiar scene. He quickly stepped back when her shoulders began to heave, allowing her to stagger away from the car and promptly vomit all over the road.

There was a resounding murmur of sympathy from the others, Michonne hastening to fetch some water as Lana coughed and gagged. She vomited a second time, swaying on her feet and allowing Michonne to take her hand, but the moment it was over she started laughing joyously.

"Shit that feels better," she cursed, looking around at them with a beaming smile that was completely out of place these days. She laughed again, using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth. "I've wanted to do that since I smelled them cooking breakfast!"

"Mmmm, they were cooking fish," Dianne commiserated.

"It smelled like arse," Lana joked, taking a mouthful of water and then spitting it out.

"You done?" Michonne asked.

Sobering a little, Lana nodded before taking another mouthful of water and spitting it out again. As a few Walkers emerged from the trees down the road they each hastened to get into the car, Rick refusing the suggestion that he drive the return trip. With his shoulder aching painfully he settled into the back alongside Dianne, while Jesus settled into the top trunk. They would have another long journey back to the Kingdom and then to the Hilltop, the danger enhanced by the presence of Lana and Dianne, the former who was supposed to be dead, and the latter whose association with them would give away Alexandria's greatest strength against the Saviours. The sooner they safely returned to the Hilltop the better.

"Rick, you know what they're going to say, right?" Lana asked.

They had been driving for a few minutes now, each of them wrapped in their own thoughts. Nothing that Lana was pointedly avoiding his gaze, that she had waited until he couldn't see her face, he gave her an honest answer.

"They'll fight with us," he answered, suspecting they would convince Natania.

"But?"

"But…we'll have to let Arat go free."