Dampish Cannot express my adoration for you. You are a good man.

fandomismylife It's weird isn't it. We've basically grown up with Oliver. I was only a few years older than him when I started this fic, and now we're both adults, and so is the same for a lot of the people reading this. I'm glad I've had this experience. And no pressure to write anything. You've supported me enough already!

wonderbitch26 I'm sure there's a backstory as to how Negan knows what a twink is but I'll leave that to you to conjure up lmao.

Song is "Ivy" by Frank Ocean.

I thought that I was dreaming when you said you love me
The start of nothing
I had no chance to prepare
I couldn't see you coming
The start of nothing
I could hate you now
It's quite alright to hate me now
When we both know that deep down
The feeling still deep down is good...

"Stop! You're dead."

Oliver, now hypothetically deceased, stood frozen and on display with his amp-arm up in defence across Quan's chest and his free hand stretched towards his hip for his combat knife. Quan, having already drawn his blade, had it pointed at Oliver's stomach. Other trainees spread out around them on the grass verge by the solar panels, tangled in their own frozen practice fights.

"Your eyes were on the ground," Aaron scolded.

Well, I don't like looking at his face, Oliver thought, gritting his teeth.

"Track from head to hands, always," Aaron told him, and then, when Oliver nodded begrudgingly, turned to the rest of the class. "Lose focus, and you will get killed. Remember, these people took our friends. They took our land. They must be stopped — go again."

They poised. Oliver took a faux swipe. Quan dodged to the side, then jutted out his arm and caught Oliver across the shoulder-blades. He staggered to his hand and knees, too slow to stop Quan from grabbing him from behind and yanking him up against his chest, knife pointed to throat. Oliver struggled, but Quan had a grip on him.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"No," Oliver retorted, pulling himself free.

"Go again!" Aaron yelled.

Quan charged. Oliver twisted away from him, jutting out a leg and causing Quan to trip and land on his back, knife flying. He attempted to scramble for it but Oliver kicked it aside, pushed him down, and held his own knife against Quan's abdomen, touching him there with his fingers as not to accidentally stab him. His vest had ridden up. The dark skin there was hot and damp. Oliver had to stand up and turn away, blinking. This was a mistake — in a split second Quan had swiped out a leg and knocked Oliver to the dirt, winding him. He attempted to snatch for his knife but Quan snatched it, pinned him down between his knees, and put the knife to Oliver's ribcage. The cold of the blade shocked him.

"Got you," Quan said, bend over him and grinning.

Oliver could smell his sweat and aftershave.

"Get off me," he said, too softly, so he said it again in a hiss. "Get off me, man!" He pushed Quan away and stood up, brushing dirt and dust off his clothes. Tutting, he added, "You were already dead."

Quan rolled his eyes, snickering, then winked. Oliver crossed his arms, face hot and checking everyone else was still practice-fighting. He didn't know what was wrong with him today. He couldn't focus on anything. It was Quan's fault. It was confusing to hate him. It was even more confusing to be so attracted to him at the same time. Oliver didn't know if he wanted more to stab him or undress him, but he knew, at least, that he wanted to do one of them with vigour.

He tried to think of other things, like Enid practice-fighting Nora a few yards away. She wasn't speaking to him at all after she found out he had ratted on them crossing the border together. Oliver hated falling out with her. It always felt like the end of the world or worse. Lost of things felt like that lately. The last thing Oliver wanted to deal with right now was melee training with Quan.

"Hey, Lydia!" Gage called out, abandoning his training to pull a sack on over his head. "You think Mommy will take me in?"

Lydia, who'd been passing by, stopped to glare at him.

"Oh, right, no," Gage went on, "she kicked your ass out — now you're just a freak."

Alfred and Margo sneered by his side.

"Get the hell out of here," Margo growled at her.

Lydia rushed away, looking small. Enid went after her, pushing Gage aside as he took off his sack. He snorted and gave Alfred a high-five. They didn't notice Oliver approaching until Gage received a sharp smack across the back of the head. He cried out, clutching his skull, shaggy mouse-brown hair in his face. Oliver snatched the sack out of his hands and threw it aside.

"Grow up."

Gage scowled up at him.

"What the hell?" Margo barked.

"You saw what her mother did to our friends," Alfred chimed in, "to your brother."

"Yeah," Oliver told them. "What her mother did..."

"Hey!" Aaron yelled, eyes switching between Gage and Oliver to Lydia and Enid walking away. "Up here. Let's run it again."

They four of them returned to their training partners. Nora partnered with Aaron in Enid's absence. Without speaking to one another, Oliver and Quan got on with training. Enid came back after a while. She didn't look at Oliver, or Gage and his friends. It was a long last hour of practice. Oliver was wound up out of his mind when it was finally over. Enid didn't wait for him, so his walk back to Michonne's apartment was lonely until Lydia caught up with him along the Brownstone street.

"Hey, uh..." she said, out of breath. "I saw what you did back there."

Oliver turned to her, his mind still caught up over Quan and other things. "Oh. Err?"

Lydia hugged herself, forcing a smile. "And — I wanted to say... thanks. Thank you."

Oliver nodded politely. He noticed Henry's old staff on her shoulder. Lydia had added a nunchuck to it. Oliver's thoughts slowed down then, like a miserable, rusting cog. The loss of Henry still ached. He wondered if it did for Lydia, too, and thought back to what Enid had said, that Lydia had tried to kill herself, and that she deserved to have some help right now. He wanted to say something wise, something kind, but the words, "Bullies suck," sounded far lamer outside of his head than in.

Lydia smiled a little wider anyway.

"Enid says I should ignore them, take the higher ground," she said, shrugging. "Negan says I should kill them with kindness."

"Negan told you that?"

"Yeah... he's my friend."

I think he's mine, too, Oliver almost said, but didn't in fear of Glenn, Abraham, Sasha, Denise, and many others turning in their graves. Not Carl, though. If Heaven or the afterlife existed at all, Carl was up there having a humble celebration.

"They're just grieving for their friends," he said instead, shaking his head slightly.

Lydia kicked the ground, sulking. "It doesn't mean they should take it out on me."

"No," he agreed. "I guess they're just scared."

"Of what?"

"Of... I don't know," he lied, not wanting to say, 'Of you being one of them...' but Lydia seemed to see right through him because she glared, standing square and balling her fists, like she was suddenly some statue filled with fury or pride or both.

"I'll never walk with my mother," she growled.

Oliver nodded. "We know that."

"Gage and his friends don't, clearly. I mean, what am I supposed to do to prove myself to them?"

"It's not about that," Oliver explained. "It's not about showing them kindness in hopes they'll end up liking you. That won't do shit, trust me. And taking the high ground is just another way of letting them win."

Lydia sighed.

"Look," Oliver added, "all they want is for you to feel sorry, for you to feel as bad as your mom made them feel."

"I'm not apologising for something she—"

"I'm not saying that," Oliver interrupted, and waited a moment for Lydia to stop steaming at the ears. "I'm saying... if they want a response from you, a response that won't change anything anyway, you might as well give them a response they aren't expecting..."

It didn't take Oliver long to regret his advice — later at lunch in the main hall, while he was volunteering at the wash-station, Lydia brought a dead squirrel in with her. She sat at Gage, Margo, and Alfred's bench and gutted it in front of them.

Oliver only realised what was going on when he heard Gage cry out, "Oh my God, what is wrong with you!" and looked up to see him wiping squirrel blood of his face.

"Oh, merda," Oliver muttered, dropping his sponge.

"You're crazy!" Gage howled, standing up now.

Lydia continued her slaughter, ignoring them. Alfred and Margo stood up, too, muttering their disgust together, and then the worse of it happened: Lydia turned her head, smiled at them, and raised a bloody finger to her lips.

"Shh..."

Gage and his friends rushed off. Oliver stared at Lydia in both awe and horror before Daryl grabbed her by the arm and swept her out of the hall. Oliver went back to work at the sink, beginning to sweat. He knew it wouldn't be long before — Daryl came back, storming through the mess hall to him.

"What the hell d'you go and tell her to do a thing like that for?!" he shouted.

Oliver backed up against the wash bowl, splashing suds. He cringed. "It was stupid. I didn't think she would—"

"Yeah, you didn't think!"

Oliver shook his head in total agreement, reminded of Henry. He shut his eyes, then opened them and asked, "Is Lydia okay?"

"Course she's okay," Daryl growled, "with the fire you lit under her ass! Damn miracle she didn't hang dead snakes over their beds!"

"I'm sorry. I fucked up."

"Hmpf. Keeps happening with you lately."

Oliver dipped his head in shame. The room was silent. Everyone in the kitchen area and the few still finishing their food out in the hall were watching and listening to them. Daryl seemed to calm down. His shoulders relaxed and he sighed, and then, suddenly, Michonne burst into the hall.

"Daryl," she said sharply. "Something's happened at Hilltop. Gather all the council members. Enid, too. Oliver, clear everyone out of the hall and set up the tables for the meeting."

They were ready in minutes. While a few dishwashers were finishing up, the council and Enid gathered around a long, U-shaped table to discuss. Oliver stood back by the door and listened because nobody had told him to leave.

"Why am I here?" Enid asked.

"I just got off the radio with Ezekiel," Michonne said to all of them. "A tree fell, crushed part of the wall at Hilltop. By the trailers. Nine people were injured, including Ms. Watts, the medic. They don't have anyone else who knows how to treat these kinds of injuries without help, so..."

She looked at Enid.

Enid's eyes widened and she began shaking her head. "No. Not me. Send Siddiq."

"I can't go," he said. "I have to stay here, at my post, as well as take care of Coco. There's—"

"Then Dante!"

"As much as I would love to get a break from him," Siddiq said, "Dante and I need to stay here. Like I was about to say, there's a stomach bug going around, and a pregnant mother due any day now. You've got no experience with pregnancies."

Enid crossed her arms, scowling.

Siddiq's eyebrows rose. "But you are trained for wounds."

"I can second that," Aaron said, raising his now de-maced prosthetic hand.

Enid looked like she wanted to hit him but sank back in her chair instead, nodding.

"Now that's settled," Michonne said, "you should know, too, Enid, that although the infirmary wasn't damaged by the tree, it won't be big enough for everyone injured at Hilltop, so they're using Maggie's old office and some of the other trailers to help fit everyone."

"Yeah. Okay." Enid sighed miserably. "I've got it."

Michonne nodded. "Thank you."

"Do you think the tree fell because of the Whisperers?" Nora asked.

"Of course it did," Kyle said.

"They already cut off our hunting grounds," Enid grumbled, still with her arms tightly crossed. "All for what? Because we crossed their border to put out a forest fire?"

"Among other times," Michonne grumbled under her breath.

Enid gritted her teeth. Her eyes flashed at Oliver accusingly and he looked down at his feet quick enough to get a crick in his neck.

"We're taking a convoy," Michonne said. "Oliver, I'd like you to help the stable hands in getting four carriage horses and my horse ready. One for yourself, too, if you don't want to drive."

Oliver hadn't been spoken to the whole meeting so he looked up with a start, clasping his neck. "I'm coming with?"

"I'd like you to. Does that work for you?"

He nodded, and when Michonne glanced to the door, without hesitating, he left through it to get started. He swore he heard Enid mutter sarcastically, "Great," as he shut the hall door behind himself.

It took a few hours for Michonne to gather a convoy of volunteers, so, with time to spare after saddling and harnessing, Oliver went to pack his things and say goodbye to Judith, RJ, and Carol at the Brownstone apartment. Carol hadn't yet emerged from her room except to talk with Daryl briefly. Oliver didn't say a lot to her. There wasn't anything of use to say other than where he was going and why. Half of him was expecting her to beg him to come back to the ocean with her, but she told him she would see him when he was back and he told her to heal quickly and to be kind to herself. It was like all those months ago when they first sailed out across the ocean. Oliver would catch her sinking into her thoughts and she would catch him, too, sinking into his own. He thought they'd started to heal, together, but now he wasn't so sure.

He left the apartment and went a few doors down to Daryl and Lydia's place. On their front door, someone had spray painted the words, 'SILENCE THE WHISPERERS'. Oliver took a steep breath, ignoring the familiar, nasty, prickle of adrenaline, and knocked. Dog barked. Daryl called out from inside to come in. Oliver followed Dog's lead and found Daryl in the garage, fixing up his motorbike.

"I'm headed to Hilltop with Michonne's convoy," Oliver said. "Just came to say goodbye to you guys."

Daryl grunted a nod, then pointed to the ceiling. "Lydia's sulkin' in her room. Enid came by to talk to her."

Oliver looked up, listening, wondering if she was still up there. He decided not to ask. Although, he couldn't think of any other small talk either. He knew he should probably apologise again for what happened earlier but guessed, too, that Daryl wasn't interested in that, so Oliver decided to just come out with what he really came over for.

"Listen," he said finally. "I think Carol's okay, but... there's about ten — no, fifteen percent of me that thinks she's going to try something with Alpha while I'm away."

"Then why you leaving?" Daryl asked, scratching between Dog's ears.

"Because I have to help Hilltop," Oliver answered, and shrugged. "And you and I both know, she'll do what she wants, whether I'm here or not."

"Then why you telling me?"

"Because you're her friend, and mine," Oliver said, watching his eyes. He didn't usually spend a lot of time looking into Daryl's face, let alone his eyes. Daryl always kept them shrouded under layers of unkempt hair. But he looked into them now and Daryl looked back. He smiled. He was a gentle man, really, despite himself. Oliver guessed they were both similar like that: they looked more frightening than they felt, only Daryl was better at remembering it. Oliver smiled back, shrugged, and said, "She listens to you more than she listens to me."

Daryl snorted. "She never listens to me. Like you say, woman does what she wants."

Oliver raised his eyebrows, then nodded. "Okay. Thanks anyway. Later, Daryl. I'll see you."

As he made to leave, Daryl grunted something.

"What?" Oliver asked, turning back.

Daryl gnawed his thumbnail.

With another, clearer grunt, he said, "I'll keep an eye on her. Don't worry."

Oliver nodded gratefully, then left.

Oliver passed Michonne's Brownstone apartment again on his way to the gates. He didn't expect to feel the need to say goodbye to Negan, but there the feeling was as he walked past. He backed up. Inches above the ground, through the small dirty window, Negan's figure moved away into the dimness. Oliver sighed, then headed for the basement door. Brandon, on guard, stepped in his way.

"Could you let me in?" Oliver asked flatly. "I need to speak with him."

"He's not interested."

"He's... 'not interested'?"

"Yeah. Not in some flower like you," Brandon said, and leaned close to whisper the next part: "Maybe you haven't figured this out already, but... some flowers are weeds."

Oliver shook his head, amazed. He'd have laughed at Brandon's audacity had he not been furious. His lip twitched. As Brandon opened his mouth to say something else, Oliver grabbed him by the collar and pushed him hard against the door, causing the back of Brandon's head to smack the frame. He yelped and crumpled to the ground, clutching his skull. Oliver crouched in front of him and snatched him by the throat, tight enough Brandon gagged.

"Do your fucking job, Brandon," Oliver growled in his face.

With a choked grumble, Brandon pushed the keys into Oliver's chest and Oliver let him go. Brandon collapsed to his hands and knees, spluttering and looking murderous. Oliver waited for him to try something, but he didn't, so he went inside the basement and slammed the door behind himself. Downstairs, Negan watched him approach with a surprised-amused grin on his face, having heard the commotion upstairs.

Oliver rolled his eyes.

"I came to... err..."

"To what?" Negan asked in Oliver's uncomfortable pause. "To threaten my former employee now prison guard, just so you could make sure to say goodbye to me this time? I am... moved, Oliver. Truly."

"How did you know I was leaving?"

"I've come to learn that this room is like a massive hearing aid," Negan answered. "There's not a lot I can't pick up on around here, if I listen carefully enough. I know about the tree falling at Hilltop, too. And I know that someone, I won't say who, has a nasty rash in a very unfortunate place."

Oliver didn't want to know.

Negan smiled, then called out suddenly, "Speaking of flowers and weeds! Brandon! Ain't it about time for me to do my garden duties?" and as Brandon could be heard opening the basement door, Negan winked at Oliver, who frowned back.

"It is," Brandon answered, coming downstairs. He threw a pair of handcuffs through the bars and Negan applied them to his wrists. Brandon then snatched the keys from Oliver, who was still standing there a little dumbstruck, and unlocked the cell. "Come on out."

"Sure thing."

"Bye, Negan," Oliver mumbled, ascending the stairs and leaving the basement.

"See you again, de Luca," Negan called out after him. "Come by anytime. Ain't like I'm going anywhere."

"And why would I want to do that?" Oliver asked, stopping at the edge of the street to glanced back and watch them emerge from the basement and into daylight.

"Why?" Negan asked, squinting. "Because I miss chatting with you, Oliver. You are a barrel o' laughs!"

Oliver shook his head, regretting having even asked, and walked away hearing Negan chuckle to himself as he and Brandon went in the opposite direction.

A quarter-hour later, Oliver and the sweet mare, Traveller, left with Michonne and the two-carriage convoy towards Hilltop. Each carriage, one driven by Enid and the other by Eugene, carried four volunteers, Judith among them. Quan, too, was there, and Oliver took great pleasure in ignoring him entirely.

It was a clear sunny day, they were rested, well fed, and the sound of their surroundings with no walkers in it was like music. Still, Michonne was frowning. Judith noticed, too, and offered her pair of 'friendly ears' to which Michonne mused with a small discussion on Alpha's bullying tactics. She was confused as to why after the trespassing and Carol taking a shot, the only thing Alpha took was land. No horde, and no massacre. Judith suspected their rules were changing, that Alpha was trying to tire them out to get the upper hand, the same way herself and Michonne tired RJ out to get him to go to bed.

Michonne squinted down at her. "That is not bad, kiddo."

"I knew RJ would eventually be good for something."

They chuckled together.

"So, am I right?" Judith asked. "Is that the kind of bully they are?"

Michonne gave her one of her surveying looks.

"You're thinking on it," Judith said.

And they rode on quietly all day and night, and grew close to Hilltop a few hours before sunrise. At some point Michonne claimed to see the King riding through the trees ahead, and told the others to go on without her while she went off to find him. A few minutes after separating, however, Oliver and the other carriages found Ezekiel's stallion, a jet black Rocky Mountainer named Toby, walking with an empty saddle along the road. Quan hopped out of the carriage and jogged ahead to retrieve him, while the others muttered questions about where Ezekiel and Michonne were.

"Get to Hilltop," Oliver told everyone, "I'll go and look for them."

All of them, Enid especially, began to argue, and Oliver would have argued back had Michonne and Ezekiel not emerged from the woods unscathed, claiming they were fine and that Ezekiel had left Toby untethered on accident. Oliver didn't buy it. Ezekiel eyes were puffy. Michonne, leading her horse, cleared her throat.

"We should get going," she said, mounting up. "There's no time to lose."

And she was right. When they arrived, a large horde of walkers were breaching the hole in Hilltop's wall created by the fallen tree. Everyone dismounted their horses or climbed from their carriages to jump into defending the place. Even Judith helped take down a few of the dead before Michonne found a moment to order her inside to safety.

"Yo! We got all our peeps!" Jerry shouted. "Close the gates! Come on!"

The last of them stumbled inside.

The gates were shut behind them.

"Defend the breach!"

It took the rest of the night. Oliver felt stuck in time, back to Alexandria a few days ago, and back to the night Carl lost his eye, and even the night the prison fence came down. It always came back to this part: Fighting the dead.

And finally.

Miraculously.

Hours and hours later...

It was over.

Soaked in blood and exhausted, with the sun high above the horizon, Oliver collapsed on Barrington House's porch, too exhausted to make it to the rocking chair. Yumiko landed beside him while Magna managed to make it to the rocking chair, which hit the wall as she slumped into it. Connie and Kelly sat on the steps and held each other, Enid knelt several feet away, head in her arms, and Luke collapsed by Oliver's side and slung an arm across his shoulders.

"You guys came just in time. Sheesh! What a relief," Luke sighed loudly while Oliver panted his agreement. Luke knocked their sweaty foreheads. "I could kiss you, man, really."

"Oddio," Oliver replied, and caught the sound of himself giggling too late to try and stop.

"I could kiss you, too," Yumiko said, gulping breaths. "Come here." She flailed across Oliver's lap and kissed him once on each cheek, which, to him, felt like a very European thing to do. It made him laugh even harder, especially when Connie, too, rolled over from her grinning sister and snuggled in around his chest, making the first noise Oliver had ever heard from her — a very faint, low, doting hum. At some point amongst all this, Luke really did kiss him, loudly and clumsily between Oliver's eyebrows.

His cheeks were burning.

Having witnessed all this, Michonne smiled at them all as she walked by and went inside. Enid was watching them, too, with a faint smile on her face which vanished the second she noticed Oliver look her way.

Finally, Oliver managed to clamber out from under Yumiko, Connie, and Luke's cuddling. He was sore from all the fighting and tired after the long night, so he went looking for somewhere he could wash and sleep. He spotted Quan and Papa Bear heading off to the trailers, clasping each other tightly. Since most of Kingdom were still in tents, Oliver didn't know why he was expecting to get his old room back. Someone was occupying it. Oliver apologised for bothering them and left to find a Hilltop council member — Ezekiel, Yumiko, Jerry, or Earl. He found Jerry first who immediately invited Oliver to stay with his family. They had the largest tent of everyone, considering there were five of them, not including—

"Scab!"

"Yeah, man," Jerry said, lugging the ugly, fat, sick-coloured cat into Oliver's arms. "Best guard-cat we could ask for."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah," Nabila said. "She loves the kids. Let's Ezra and Aliyah dress her up and play with her and everything."

Oliver double took, wondering if they had the wrong cat. But it was indeed Scab, matted and smelly and missing a few claws, the world's former grumpiest cat now turned softie for children, as proven when Ezra scooped her out of Oliver's arms and waddled her huge form against his own small one to his sleeping bag, where he plopped her down and rubbed her tummy. She gazed up at him dewily, like he was one of her own, oversized, late kittens.

"She thinks she's a mom again," Oliver murmured.

"What?" Nabila asked.

"Nothing. Thank you. Are you sure you've got the room for me?"

"Of course!" she said.

Jerry grinned. "But no grass, unless..."

Nabila glared at him. Jerry pulled an apologetic face, raising his hands in joking surrender. Oliver pursed his lips innocently until Nabila walked away to tend to their baby girl, Mariam, who had begun to fuss.

"Anyway," Jerry said, beaming. "I'm sure we've got a spare sleeping bag lying around, and someone somewhere can give up their spare pillow."

Ezra and Aliyah moaned their complaints.

"I can live without a pillow," Oliver bargained.

"Don't sweat," Jerry told him. "I'll persuade them."

Oliver grinned. "Grazie mille."

He found a bucket of water, soap, and a private place to wash under the sun, then changed into a clean set of clothes. As he headed back to Jerry's tent, Enid caught him on his way. Oliver wondered why she wasn't with her patients, and opened his mouth to ask.

"Michonne's asked to speak to us," she said, like she could read his mind, then turned on her heel. "Help me gather the others for a meeting."

If I could see through walls, I could see you're faking
If you could see my thoughts, you would see our faces
Safe in my rental like an armoured truck back then
We didn't give a fuck back then
I ain't a kid no more
We'll never be those kids again

No matter what I did
My waves wouldn't dip back then
Everything sucked back then
We were friends...

Notes

Been a while. Easy to guess why. Keep on protesting, signing petitions, and having those awkward conversations with people who don't understand yet, even if that means you have to educate yourself first. It can't go on like this.

As always,
Happy reading.