XVIII.
Anger and fury, and helplessness were like poison in his veins as Rick's words turned in his mind as Daryl furiously walked out of the house and left the town, his feet quickly moving him away from the gates toward the woods.
Goddammit how! How we get them, Daryl!
He didn't know where the fuck he was going, he'd felt the need to get away because he'd known sure as fuck if he'd stayed, he would've punched Rick. No, Daryl wasn't going to pass another night back in the houses as Beth was there captive, taken from him again.
He remembered the funeral home—he remembered the black car with white cross drove her away as he helplessly watched it—and ran, ran and ran for hours after it in the middle of the night… Until the dawn.
No. Never again.
Rick—Daryl wasn't like Rick. The other man could do it perhaps—could regroup, but Daryl couldn't. Rick was a leader, Daryl was not. He only wanted Beth. He was going to get her back. Now. It couldn't wait. He'd lost Beth once, and found her again, and he was going to do it again. Nothing—even Rick could hinder that.
His decision made, his mind steeling, Daryl knew then clear as fuck what he should do. He placed his crossbow over his back and started walking back to the town. He needed his bike, and guns. Grenades, weapons, knives… He needed to suit up.
Before he made it back to the gate, Carl found him in the woods. The teenage boy gave him a hard, serious look, his dark green eyes tilted under his sheriff hat, "I'm coming with you," he then declared.
Daryl didn't bother to decline what he was about to do, but still shook his head. No. This was about him. He could endanger his life—for Beth, he could even give it for her—but no one else. Despite their current differences, the young Grimes' place was beside his father. He could never do this to Rick. "Nah…You stay."
Carl shook his head, the gesture placid but curt. It somehow reminded Daryl the old days in the prison, the teenage looked like those time now, distant but stoic with a cold fury—after Lori's death—for a second or so Daryl's breath stopped. Fuck! Lori—Rick… Rick—Rick had never watched before the woman he'd loved taken away from him like Daryl had to, but Daryl had never had to live what Rick had suffered through. The next second he felt like a prick—fighting with his friend—with his brother—imagining the pain and fear he might be having now—
"I'm coming," Carl repeated with the same cold tone, cutting through his dark thoughts, "Dad does nothing," the teenage boy seethed, "He just let them be taken away. Did nothing."
And Daryl found himself backing up Rick, "We couldn't do no damn thing,"
But Carl shook his head again, "He does nothing!" he shouted, his fury unleashing, "He never does anything! Couldn't save Mom! Lost the prison, almost lost Judith, now we're losing Amanda, too!" He poured out his anger, only stopping for a short breath before he continued, "He brought her into our life, made her make cookies for us, made her love us, made us love her, made babies with her then he failed them too!" He kicked forage under their feet, "My brothers, sisters! He fails them even before they've born."
Daryl looked at the young teenage coolly after his angry rant, "Are ya done, kid?"
Carl glared at her, his eyes seething, "I'm no damn kid."
Daryl walked to her, "You act like a damn one, tho'—" he snapped, and realizing he'd been acting in the same way as well, like a damn kid like Carol had used to tell him—a petulant, angry child. They—they needed to get them back. And they were going to. But only together. We can make it together, we can only make it together, he recalled Glenn's words to Rick back at the road. Glenn—the best of them—was right again. They could only make it together.
"Your dad—" Daryl told then to Carl, "Your dad's the best father anyone'd hope to have for. He loves you, protects you. He'd die for you. He'd kill for you. He'd bring hell on anyone who'd hurt you. But he ain't no damn hero like in your comic books, kid," he said, understanding it was also the truth, and they were just men, trying their best, fighting with their teeth and nails, fighting with their everything until their last drop of blood. And Beth and Shepherd—they would fight until their last drop of blood, too. They couldn't do it alone. None of them could do it alone. "He needs us. We can make it together, Carl, but we can only make it together."
Carl bowed his head, his fury slowly winding down after his words, and Daryl—hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder and held it like Rick always did and tilted his head down to find the young boy's eyes, "You say you're a man now—but are you?"
His head snapped up at Daryl, and he gave Daryl a look under his hat, "I am."
Daryl held his look, "Then be a man, Carl," Daryl told him back, "Accept your father's just a man, too."
Then, slowly, Carl nodded, bowing his head. "I—"
Daryl nodded back and squeezed his shoulder. "Let's find you dad then," he told the younger man.
They were going to get them back, but only together.
Slowly, but decisively they walked back to the town. When they were in front of their house, they started climbing the porch's steps but before they could walk in, the door opened, and Rick walked out.
Daryl's eyes drew towards his tore shirt, missing buttons, and bloodied collar, his knuckles chaffed, the corner of his lips having a slight redness over his beard… Ah.
"What happened?" Daryl asked, eyeing his appearance.
The other man shook his head, "Nothing of importance." He paused, giving both of them a searching look, one leg going over the other in his usual pose, and asked, "You back?"
In silence, they nodded. "Good—" Rick said then, nodding back, "We have work to do."
# # #
After Amanda left the room, Beth followed her example and went to the parlor.
Amanda was right. They had to mingle with these people, watch and learn—like she had done at Grady.
Look around and tell me what you see…
Daryl's lesson echoed in her mind, from the woods after they'd escaped from the prison, seemed now like a lifetime ago.
But the lesson was still the same… The signs are all there, you jus' have to read 'em.
So, standing in the corner, Beth tried to read the signs. Amanda had told her to go and play piano, but Beth first wanted to have an air of her surroundings. Just like yesterday the women stood clustered around the well-furnished parlor—in companies of three or four, so it meant they had to be some sorts of groups between them, as it was also expected. She'd counted a dozen or so women all dressed up, and there were other women as well walking around, doing stuff, but by their state of clothes Beth realized that they were just workers that kept the order around.
Negan's wives didn't seem to do shit—but just lounge around the parlor aimlessly. A fury found her seeing it, this was ridiculous—being this…passive in the middle of the end of the world, dressed up, make up and hairs done, and just wander around. She wondered how many of them actually had coerced into this—like Cherry's sister would've been if they hadn't escaped and how many of them had accepted it willingly, living luxuriously, and well, safe.
Somehow Beth knew the answer wouldn't be something she would like—but she'd already accepted it—it was a fact, like Amanda had used to say—everyone worked with what they had, and not everyone could be a fighter like them.
The old Beth would have revolted against the idea, but the old Beth had died long ago in that elevator shaft too. She wasn't even the same girl who tried not to die in the apocalypse anymore. She'd survived through hell and back, eaten worms and dog meat, held a man's arms as they cut it off, cut her own damn arm, fought with walkers, fought with people, hell, she even killed people…Wolves—she'd killed Wolves, never lost any sleep either. And she had saved people. Like Daryl, like Rick, like Maggie, like Amanda…Beth had saved people, too. She'd led a whole herd of walkers all alone, and saved Alexandria from a certain run-over, saved Dwight and Cherry.
And, they were going to save themselves from this shithole, too.
Together.
Yet, Amanda was right. Daryl had probably lost his mind right now, might be already trying to infiltrate in the compound, and if he would get caught—Inwardly, she shook her head. She didn't even want to think about that if.
Amanda was really right. They had to go back to Alexandria and tell Rick and Daryl they were okay—tell them they should wait. They were inside. The last time Amanda and Beth had worked together they'd brought down Dawn. They could do it again. These people were worse, yes, but they'd become better as well.
So much better.
"So you're new bird—" A silky, snickering voice came from her side, and Beth turned toward it, and looked at the owner, and at from the first sight, Beth knew, the queen bitch of these little commune had found her. The redhead woman gave her a smile, a very similar one Beth used to see adorning Amanda's face before and glanced at her other companies. There were three other women with her too, two of them blondes like her, and one light brown hair like Amanda, "I think Negan's started to have preferences. This's the fourth blondie after you girls."
Beth gave her a cool look, "I'm not his wife—" she said back, "We're—" she paused, and remembered Amanda's words, "We're his…guests."
The redhead laughed at that softly, "You mean his prisoners?" she shot back, "Though, you must be at least smart. Most of the times prisoners don't end up here." She paused for a second, too, "Actually, it's never happened before." The woman smiled again at her after the words. Beth stayed in silence. "I'm Frankie," she introduced herself then, and nodded at his companions, "And these are Tanya, Nicole and Amber." The last one, Amber, was the youngest, the blonde hair and blue eyes like her, and her eyes were red as if she had been crying, and she had a sad expression over her face. Beth wondered the reason and made a mental note to look for more later. All of the other women had aloof expressions over their face, by choice or forced, Beth didn't know for sure, aside this woman around her age.
Frankie caught her look toward the younger woman, "Amber broke a nail this morning, so forgive her…moping," the ginger head told her.
Beth sniffed, and said, "Beth Dixon."
Her hand rested on her other arm's elbow, Frankie pointed a finger at her, "So you're not Rick Grime's wife."
She shook her head. So, they'd already heard about it, even here. Amanda was right. Soon all Sanctuary was going to talk about Rick Grimes and his…rebellion. "No. It's my friend," she said back.
"The one left early in this morning?" Frankie inquired further, rubbing her fingers to each other in her pose, and Beth decided to play along. The woman—the woman looked like she was getting worried.
"Yes," she said.
"Hmm."
"Is it true that he'd rallied two of the outposts behind him in two days?" the woman asked then, jutting out her hip, her voice getting more cross, her eyes weighting Beth heavily.
Beth realized it then, "We weren't going to hurt you," she said in return.
"You were about to attack us," she shot back, "How can you not hurt us while attacking us?"
Beth grimaced, "And you asked that while sitting here with the stuff belonging to other people?" she asked, and tilted her head at the ornated lamp she's seen at Hilltop the last, "I'd seen this lamp at Hilltop before your people destroyed it." She paused, "These violent delights have violent ends," she quoted.
The redhead's face sobered, and she took a few steps closer to her, "You should be more careful what you say around here, Beth," the woman told her then, "Even the wives can get punished."
"I'm not his wife."
The woman's eyes held hers, and agreed, "No, you're not."
They left her after then, and Beth quelled down a shiver the words had brought to her, shivers, and old memories and dread—the feel of the corner of an old picture suddenly hitting at her cheek. Her hand raised at her cheek, and she touched at her cheekbone where her old, fainted scar left a pale mark over her skin. No. The memory made her tremble again, but Beth forced herself to stay calm again. She'd helped Noah, she'd survived Dawn, escaped from Grady. They could not keep them here. They were going to go back. A whole army of death couldn't keep them away indefinitely from where they belonged.
Determined, she walked to the piano. She'd planned to play a good song, soft and hopeful, like the one she'd played for Daryl when they had found the funereal home, but now, she didn't want to play a good, hopeful song.
No.
She sat down in front of the piano, and hit the keys slowly, but decisively, weaving an infamous melody. As soon as it filled the air, a silence fell in the room, only her song, and silence, and stares.
Beth continued playing, "I'm gonna fight 'em all… A seven nation army couldn't hold me back…" she started signing, forever in defiance, fighting for home.
They were going back to home. Nothing could hold them back. She knew she was making an invitation for trouble, but she didn't care. They—they weren't some nice house pets like these women. Better Negan learned it, too, she continued signing as her fingers fastened on the keys:
And if I catch it coming back my way
gonna serve it to you
And that ain't what you want to hear
But that's what I'll do
She threw her head downward, her voice raising toward her last octaves, thinning, her hands flying over the keys:
And feeling coming from my bones, says find the home
I'm bleeding, bleeding, bleeding before the lord
And her tone reached at her last octave, and tossing her head backward, she screamed the last lyrics with determination coursing through her veins:
And the stains coming from my blood, tell me go back home
When she stopped, everything was in silence, not even single sound in the room, no chatter, no ruffles of pages, no heels clinking, nothing. Out of breath, Beth bowed her head, her chest tightening, her throat raw with the octaves she'd reached…her head spinning…
Then a heavy thud ringed in the room…
"I'll be damned!" Negan's baritone voice boomed in the silence of the room, and Beth's head snapped up, her heart skipping a beat. Slowly, Beth turned her head, and looked at the man as he stood in the middle of the room, supporting his weight on his baseball bat next to Amanda, whose astonished, alarmed expression was all clear over her face, green eyes widened—staring at Beth, saying openly, what the fuck have you done?
Beth didn't know. She—she'd just done it, wanted to show them— wanted… Negan barked out a laugh then. "Jesus Christ, someone really gotta teach you a few lessons," the psychopath laughed harder, shaking his head, his eyes heavily on hers as Amanda's appalled expression turned into a mighty grimace, her lips clenched in a silent fury.
She shouldn't have done it, Beth knew, she—she was keeping up trouble now, even Amanda was playing nice with him, meek and demure, but well, contrary to all evidence, playing nice wasn't going well with Beth.
# # #
"Yeah, no one is perfect, doll—" Negan told her, shaking his head, then took another step in on her, entering her personal space once again, and whispered at her, leaning over her side, "But you put a good show," the man continued with a smile, as her own vanished off.
Her head ahead, she turned her eyes and looked at him, "A very good one, but you couldn't help yourself, could you?" he asked rhetorically, "Your emotions… they got the best of you—A good, honest man, and you couldn't help yourself."
Still motionless, her head still ahead, she cursed inside. Well, it seemed that she got caught in her act. "Do you know how I know?" he asked further, and answered before she could even open her mouth, "His name—when you were drugged, you whimpered out his name—" the bastard said with that smile, and took a step back to look at her better. "It was shit sad, doll," he remarked, shaking his head, "you—moaning his name helplessly at the floor… I was moved to tears."
He laughed at her again, "Yeah, no one's perfect—"
Her nerves frayed, the memory pushing into her consciousness, she remembered the doctor again! That sonofabitch! That lying, backstabbing, smiling sorry excuse of a man! When she got her hands on him again—she turned her eyes back at Negan, "Are we gonna yammer about my love life whole day, or we'll do some work?" she snapped.
"Wow—cool down—" he bit, raising his hand up in warning, "How cattish you're… bet you get punished a lot because of that tongue of yours." This time she held her tongue, didn't jump on the bait, he was playing with her—goddammit, and he was playing—and she was losing, "Does he?" then he asked, looking at her curiously, "Does he punish you? Is it why you got those nasty chaffs at your wrists and marks at your neck, doll?" He walked in her again as she leaned back over at the railings again, "Does he teach you your lessons? Lay you over his knees—?"
Her eyes widened, she stared at him. "If you were my wife, I'd teach you a few lessons. You seem to be lacking discipline."
She stared at him, fury spreading over her like a fire, and words left her mouth before she could stop herself, "He doesn't punish me," she bit off, her chin tilted up in defiance, "I ask for it."
"My goodness!" the sick bastard exclaimed, and gave her another sick smile, "You're really one of a kind." He shook his head, "You beg him, don't you? Beg him to tie you up and fuck your pussy—"
She snorted out, "You seem to be lacking imagination," she shot back, shit already had gone out of the control, and she could play, too, "He does much more than that."
In answer, he only gave her a smile, and she glared, and they looked at each other for a few seconds, her glaring furiously, him sickly leering, and finally she gave up, and bowed her head, sagging her shoulders with a small sigh. "Are you done?"
"You tell me—"
"We need to work—" she said, lifting her head up.
"But we are working—" he said back, "We're showing you off…Just like you said. People see you beside me."
Rick Grimes's wife… They'd been here for a while—inches apart—Bastard!
"We need to go to Alexandria," she then remarked, mostly to rattle him a bit to gain some ground back, to get him off her neck, and well, they needed to go back to Alexandria. She needed to talk to Rick. She needed to talk to Rick before things turned even more insane.
"We go the next week," Negan countered.
She shook her head, "No. We can't wait. We have to go now."
He gave her a look, "Hmm—"
She decided to cut the bullshit and talk to him openly, "Look, no more games. I'm gonna speak openly. We have to go to Alexandria. Now. You took us. Our husbands might be trying to infiltrate into your compound as we speak now. I need to talk to Rick."
His eyes regarded her carefully, this time no playful glint in them—sick or otherwise. They were wary, and speculative, weighting her up and down seriously. "You don't want him to rescue you?" he asked after a while.
Amanda shook her head, "I don't want him to get himself killed. I don't want any bloodshed," she spoke truly. Amanda had been looking at the place since yesterday, and even with the little stuff she'd seen she'd figured it out. They couldn't infiltrate or escape from this place without help from inside. And that was going to take time, recruiting help—an accomplice from inside. The fences and gates were well-guarded, by living and by the death. If they tried, it'd turn into a macabre. Amanda didn't want that. She had other plans. And she needed to talk with Rick. Like now.
"I'm trying to be reasonable," she continued, "They can't get into this place. But we're here and they don't know if we're okay or not, so they won't stop until they know. So, let us speak to them." She paused, "I swear I'm gonna stop them from doing something stupid."
"Hmm—" Negan gave her another contemplative look, "Maybe I want him to do something stupid, so I could get to kill him."
"You don't want to kill him—" she shot back quickly, "If you wanted him dead, you could've already done it." No, the sick bastard wanted to beat Rick forced him onto his knees, keep him there—she remembered her thoughts at Hilltop. Maybe it wasn't the only reason, but it was still there. If Rick was dead, the game was over. But Amanda didn't want any provocation further; she'd fallen into his trap already once just a few minutes ago. Not again.
So, she held his eyes, "Rick's the force that keeps us together," she said, "He brought us together, made a family out of us. If he's gone, we're done, too. There's no Alexandria—no more people who would work you." And that was something Negan could understand, "You wouldn't want that."
Negan was still eyeing her carefully, so she changed her approach and tried another angle, "Look, you already will go there, why not now? What's the difference?" she asked, as the same time wishing Rick had gotten Dwight and Cherry out of the town first thing in the morning. They couldn't stay there, she didn't want them to get discovered, and they were still the only inside intel Rick had—Rick…Rick should be doing it the first thing—but well, they were both gone, so she wasn't sure how things were there…
Just another reason she needed to get to there. "You really want him to live, don't you?" the man asked again then for a while.
She didn't run away her eyes, "Do you know how hard it's to find a good husband these days?"
He snickered, then turned on his heels and started walking away.
With a sigh, Amanda followed. Walking, she noticed they were going back to his apartments again. Her little stroll with him had finished, and she was going back to her…chambers. She was beginning to understand it was going to be hard to find some alone time. Later, she told herself. Later. First, she had to deal with this, and she'd already managed to get her first scoop anyway.
While bragging, the egomaniacal maniac had slipped off they had seven outposts. She just needed to discover where they were now. Dwight and Cherry hadn't known a shit about Sanctuary as workers, Amanda could see it now even clearer, but if they really managed to recruit an insider from his inner circle… Hmm… One of the wives… The wives must know a lot of shit… They were always with him, and Negan had a way of over speaking—condone his work life and special life into together. Any woman with a half of a brain must have already piled up a lot of his secrets. This…harem of sorts had a lot of competition as well, more than a dozen or so women in the same place, and one man. Well, she could almost imagine what kind of schemes and plots were going around that place. Beth and her just needed to find the most suitable one of them. Someone like Joan. When she'd talked with Joan the last time after Dawn had cut her off, Amanda had told the woman she still had a life so she had to make it count, and Joan had done… even with her death, she'd made it count. She was still sorry for what had happened, but if Joan hadn't done what she did—she stopped her thoughts and focused on what lay ahead of her, her old guild and regrets trying to seep through her. She—she couldn't deal with them now, but everything with Negan and Sanctuary had really started to remind her of Grady.
Somehow everything ended up reminding her of Grady, and Amanda wasn't sure what that meant.
On the way back, Negan picked up her guards again, "Gary, David, come—" he said, as she also finally learned their names. Arat found them again too before they moved up to the top floor. She first heard it when they came to the corridor that led to his quarters, a melody—a piano melody, understood Beth had listened to her and started playing.
She nodded inwardly satisfied, they needed to learn how things were with his wives too, then suddenly realizing the melody, Amanda's steps faltered, as Negan stopped too.
Then the bastard started laughing. "You—you girls… you wicked girls…" he muttered, his steps picking up.
Her heartbeat fastening, Amanda followed him quickly, her retinue back at her heels… the song reaching to her…
And if I catch it coming back my way, gonna serve it to you
And that ain't what you want to hear, but that's what I'll do
God damn you, Beth Greene! God damn you to hell and back!
She closed her eyes, entering in the room, appalled and petrified as Beth screamed the last lyrics with that soprano voice of her, I'm bleeding, bleeding, bleeding before the lord… And the stains coming from my blood, tell me go back home… I'm gonna fight 'em all… A seven nation army couldn't hold me back..
Well, they were practically doomed.
There was that expression over Negan's face as Beth hadn't even realized they were here, in the silence, but the others did, staring at them in shock. Then shaking his head, he hit his bat at the floor—hard, and exclaimed, "I'll be damned-!"
The he let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head, "Jesus Christ, someone really gotta teach you a few lessons!"
Her stomach twisted into knots with the words, her lips clenched—the way he'd asked her if Rick ever lay her over his knees—God, no…!
Oh, god no!
But the damn bastard turned and snapped his fingers at his men, "Get ready. We're going out!" then he turned to her again, "You got your wish, doll. We're going back home."
# # #
"How did you escape?" Rick questioned the former Saviors, sitting in the kitchen in the house Dwight and Cherry was staying with Olivia and Enid, and a few other Alexandrians. The others had left the house to them and Rick had realized that had been the first thing he should've done, not talking to others, not trying to deal with Spencer or Daryl, or Carl, not wallowing in self-pity or despair.
He had to fight. Go to war.
Rest in peace, soldier. Now get up and go to war.
Like how Amanda had said in the barn, like before they'd left for the Kingdom, like in his hallucination; get up and fight.
Though, Dwight shook his head, "We—we bribed one of the guards and slipped off between the shifts." He paused, "You can't pass the fence without them noticing you, I'm sorry."
Next to him, Daryl shook his head back at him in defiance, "Nah… There gotta be a way—" he said. But Rick knew his first thoughts before he'd yielded into his fury and despair had been also the best course of action.
He was going to endure what he must, then he was going to go to war. "We're no good to them if we're dead," Rick told Daryl calmly, his eyes touching Carl as well.
They must've understood now. They had come to find him. Carl still looked pissed at him, Rick could tell, but his son was here, so it was okay. They'd deal with the rest later. They were all here, and that was what mattered.
Rick turned to the married couple, "We need to get you out of here, ASAP." After his declaration, they all looked at him, "You're at risk. Negan said he's coming the next week, but we shouldn't take any risks."
Cherry had a terrified look, understanding his words, but Dwight looked at him in seriousness, "But what if they talked?" he asked, "Told him we're here?"
"They wouldn't—" Rick said, "We didn't tell anyone how we found about them. Even Jesus didn't know. Beth invited you to live us. Amanda thinks you as one of us." The couple were one of them, their residents, living with them for months, and Rick knew what that meant for Amanda. She would've never sold them out, "She'd protect you."
"How?" the man asked.
"She'd spin a story or something. She's a damn good liar," he remarked placidly, no trace of humor in his words, "She'll find a way."
She would. She always did. Rick knew it. He should've never doubted about it, about her. My mind works fast when I get depressed, she'd told him jokingly after their first break up, but Rick had seen how fast it'd really worked. In a matter of a night, she'd managed to get herself Deanne's aide, snitching the position under Maggie's nose, then stole the gun from him and started planning a whole of stuff to get herself up in the steps in the morning.
And now depressed and stressed, her wits might bounce off on the speed of light. Rick knew his wife. Amanda was the most adaptable creature he'd ever seen all in his life, capable of adjusting herself almost to anything. She struggled along the way but made it. She'd had managed to work along with him seamlessly as they took down Dawn without even knowing his name, had even managed to create out of herself a housewife like it was what she'd been doing all of her life as easily as she made her cookies.
He had trusted her once when Wolves had attacked, chosen to go after the herd, trusting them to deal with their attackers, and they'd managed it. He'd made the right choice then, now he had to do it again.
Then he was going to get her back.
"Where'd we go?" Cherry asked in the sudden silence, and Rick looked at the woman, he saw her eyes was moist with fear and worry.
"The Kingdom—" Rick answered. There was no place else. "Hilltop is ruins, unguarded. We can't protect you there. Richard hates Negan as much as we do. He'd give you an asylum. We need to talk to him in any case. See what they plan to." Daryl looked at him in question, Rick shook his head, "We started something. Richard knew it, too, as Ezekiel did. He'd want to avenge his death." He paused, trying to sort out his thoughts. He'd lost so much time, so much fucking time galloping in his misery instead of taking care of this shit.
"We also need to check on Hilltop," he continued, "Without Gregory or Jesus, they can't keep up the community. That Ethan—" He shook his head again, "He can't do it. One of us needs to go there and take the lead—" He paused, thinking over it, "Abraham and Sasha, and Maggie," he went on, deciding who would be the best option. Maggie was still cross with Abraham and Sasha, but it was hardly important now. Rick didn't want Maggie when Negan came to Alexandria. She'd be safer at Hilltop. Rick still didn't trust the sonofabitch an inch, and he'd already taken enough of his people. "We need to prepare them," he said, "Really train them."
"For what?" Carl asked.
"For war—" Rick answered simply, and stood up, looking down at them, "Get ready. We leave in an hour."
Leaving them in the house, he found Abraham and Sasha, and talked to them about Hilltop, then found Maggie.
The older Green shook her heatedly as soon as Rick told her what he'd planned, "No. I—I need to stay here. I need to—"
Rick cut her off, "She did it to protect you, Maggie—" he reminded her.
She shook her head again in answer, her lips thinning, "No."
"Maggie—" Rick answered, "I don't want any more trouble. Please, go to Hilltop. Abraham and Sasha will cover for you."
Maggie swallowed, and looked at him, "You'll get her back, Rick, won't you?" she asked, eyes tearing, "She's—I should be there—not her…" she whispered, "I should be there."
Rick held her shoulder, "We'll get them back, I promise."
She then finally nodded, "I believe you. I've always done. I always believe in you—" she said back as Daryl found them too in front of the house. She looked them pleadingly, "Please, get her back to home."
Daryl nodded, and told her quickly before Rick told her they would, "We will."
After she went into the house, Daryl turned to him, "You meant it there?" Daryl asked, "War?"
"We both were right, Daryl—" Rick told then his friend, his brother, "We both were. We have to fight, but we also have to be smart. We have to trust them. We did it once, we can do it again."
Daryl nodded again, "I told Carl today we can make it together, we can only make it only together."
Rick looked at him, remembering the words. "Glenn told it to me on the road."
"I know—" Daryl said back, "He—he was the best of us."
"We'll avenge him, too brother, we will."
They were going to. All the things they had lost, they had suffered. Perhaps not today, not tomorrow, but one day. "I need to talk to Eugene. You coming?"
Wordlessly, Daryl gave another half nod and they found Eugene in front of infirmary. "Molotov cocktails," Rick asked directly the pseudo scientist, "Can you make Molotov cocktails or bombs using the fuel?"
Eugene nodded. "What else do you need?" They still needed a distraction. A very big one. If they couldn't infiltrate in secret, then they were going to need to do the exact opposite. Their first plan. They'd bring down a part of fences, opening up a way though, let the walkers in, and then infiltrate during the chaos.
Dwight had said they'd turned down the former workers dormitory in a prison for the prisoner they took, so Amanda and Beth had to be there. They went in and extracted them, then got the hell out, simple and plain.
For the rest—they would see. He turned to Daryl and explained his plan. "Only a few of us," Rick said, "We go in, fan out, locate the cells, and get them out."
"And then?" Daryl asked, voicing out his thoughts.
Rick shook his head. "We get them out first. We'll deal with the rest later."
Simply, Daryl nodded as well. Rick turned to Eugene, "Prepare the list," he ordered, and left the infirmary.
They had to go a supply run, too. Find the supplies Eugene would need, find more guns and weapons. They'd taken their guns at Hilltop, confiscating them along with their rocket launcher. They needed more of them. If Glenn had been here—he stopped the thought, pushing away the tendrils of despair slipping through his consciousness again. No, a day would come they would mourn for the death of his friends as much as they would avenge it, but it wasn't today, either. Today, they had to fight.
Over his eyes, Amanda's vision, clad in white, passed again—He was doing it. He was fighting. They were fighting. If you don't want to die, you have to fight… Carl found them again as they walked towards the gate. "I'm coming too," his son told him, giving him a look, in defiance—challenging him to tell him no.
Rick didn't do it. Instead, he nodded. Then towards the gate, a twirl of rush started rising—he saw a cluster of people approaching it with wary steps—then Rick saw it—a shadow of a figure over the light brown canopy of their gate—a figure bouncing on the back of his heels, over his shoulder resting a shadow of a bat—
Rick stopped dead in his tracks as all Alexandria echoed with the sounds of it as the bat started hitting at the metal.
Holy, moly, ring a bell! We did have a Daryl POV after *ages*. I've been waiting do this with him and Carl for a long time, one of my main regrets with Adaptation I had to stop his interactions with Sam, I was enjoying him so much. I like Daryl interacting with young people a lot. So him handling Carl was great for me.
And Beth! I WAS dying to make her sing again, especially that song. It's, if anyone wouldn't catch it, the iconic Seven Nation Army from The White Stripes, but it's Holly Henry's piano cover, I imagined Beth saying it like this. It's on YT, check it out. It's awesome, and I think it's great to show Beth's defiance. I like Beth the most when she's an absolute force of nature, never giving up.
Amanda and Negan, not saying anything... Amanda's in sort of a trouble, ugh. But it's good fun to write her being bitchy and defiant again, as well.
And, Rick, the quote from the last chapter actually was "get up and go to war" I noticed it later, but Amanda had used both, so I left it as get up and fight. Rick's "She's a damn good liar" is actually from canon too, Rick had told her that in the show. Back in the days, that line itself was the little motivation that got me sucked into this pairing. So glad to finally used it, too!
The next we finally go back to Alexandria! and Rick sees Amanda and Negan together, not cool! I also almost finished the next chapter, and got another one the half done. Staying at home in social isolation at least makes one write more.
Speaking of which, stay at home, guys, too and be safe!
Being ever the hopeful one, I'm STILL waiting for five reviews! But let's be honest, even if you won't, I'll still upload, LOL. 'Cause you know, social isolation sucks. (Better than being sick, of course. I should not whine...)
