Many thanks to fandomismylife for proofreading this one for me!

CW: Non graphic sexual references at the end.

In the wake of a hurricane
Dark skin of a summer shade

If you could die and come back to life
Up for air from the swimming pool
You'd kneel down to the dry land
Kiss the Earth that birthed you
Gave you tools just to stay alive
And make it out when the sun is ruined...

"We have to leave!"

It was Lydia's only advice but nobody at Hilltop was interested in taking it. The last time a threat like this was made, the end result was much worse than a horde. If Alpha really meant it this time, people felt more prepared to fight it here than to run and be caught some place else. They gathered in the reading room to discuss, packed in so close that every couch, chair, and square foot of rug and hardwood floor was full; some were even taking shallow seats against the bookshelves, and a few more had to gather outside around the windowsills to listen in.

"Even if you took out half the herd in that cave, she's got thousands left," Lydia went on, her hair matted and her face grubby. "You can't stay here."

They all discussed. Daryl, stitched up now and refusing to stay at the infirmary any longer, kept his hand on Lydia's shoulder. She leant into his touch, like she needed it.

"I'm not running again," Ezekiel said. "Not after the Kingdom."

Jerry nodded to him. "Hell no."

"But we can rebuild anywhere," Dianne argued.

"We can't," Earl argued. He pointed at Aaron. "How many scouting missions you been on, son, hundreds? Have you ever seen a place like Hilltop?"

"No," Aaron admitted.

Oliver shook his head, rubbing his stump with his hand. "But there are more of them than us. You saw them, man. Jerry? Kelly? Carol? If we stay, we'll lose."

"Oliver's right," Carol said. "We only saw a portion of what was in that cave. It could have gone on for miles. We don't have to die here."

"We're going to have to fight anyway," Enid said.

"That's right," Earl agreed. "So if we die, at least we die fighting for a place that means something. Can you think of a better way to go?"

"I can," Aaron argued. "A batter way to go is with my daughter's life intact, and Judith's, and Ezra's, and Adam's — you want me to keep going?"

Relenting, Earl leant back in his chair, sighing and averting his eyes. Enid, too, uncrossed her arms and softened the frown on her face.

"Fine," Daryl said, "let's get the kids out first. Everybody pack up, we're going to Oceanside. Grab weapons, food, whatever you can. We'll regroup there."

Oliver prepared the Smithsonian carriage. It's tall tarp shelter would hide the children underneath well enough. Judith argued against going, wanting to stay and fight, but eventually climbed in after RJ when Oliver reminded her that if she stayed, she wouldn't be there to protect him. Dianne and Lydia drove the carriage. Daryl rode his motorbike ahead of them with Dog running alongside.

They were back before the next convoy had even left the gates.

Gracie leaped down from the carriage and threw herself into Aaron's arm. Dianne and Quan helped carry two bodies off to the graveyard. It was Felix and Penny, two guards Yumiko had sent off to scout an hour ago. They were still wearing their armour, dark sore rings around their necks. In tears, the children went inside with Bertie and Kal.

"They've brought trees down in the roads, blocked off every road we tried, hung Felix and Penny from a tree," Daryl explained. "They're closing in. All the roads are going to be like it. We ain't getting through. We had a window to, but... we just missed it."

"How do you know?" Oliver asked, but a fearful pull in his gut told him he already knew the answer. It all sounded too familiar.

"Negan," Daryl answered. "He's with her now."

People covered their mouths, or cried out in horror. It had been years since Oliver had witnessed Negan's wrath. Fear of a thing never went away because somebody wanted it to, he realised. It turned out that the fear would always be there, mindless and instinctual, like a wild animal trapped in a small cage.

He pulled Judith under his arm. She hadn't gone inside with the other children. She was shaking. Oliver could feel her trying to stop so he squeezed her slightly. He could tell she was embarrassed to be afraid. He could tell it was why she was out here, watching them take the bodies away, as if to prove something to herself. Oliver wished she didn't see bravery as a competition, especially at her age. It was something Carl used to do.

"We can't stay here," Kelly said frantically.

"We could radio Alexandria, right?" Luke asked. "We could get fresh fighters here. And... and it's not just going to be us. Right?"

"Oceanside can't get here," Dianne said, "Alexandria, either. Not in time. Not after what happened. We're on our own."

Some people seemed to deflate in hopelessness, while others began pacing in panic and anger, arguing amongst themselves. Oliver just gripped Judith tightly under his arm, hoping, this time, that it was her who couldn't feel him shaking.

"Divvy up your arsenals!" Earl commanded suddenly, silencing everyone. "We got catapults up on the walls! A damn good militia! This is what you've all been practising for! Come on, now, people! Do whatever you need to get your heads on straight! This is going to be the fight of our lives..."

Most of Hilltop got on with building the barricades outside the walls, made from the last bits of remaining wood from the fallen tree. Even Eugene, who rarely came down from his radio in the attic these days, was getting himself busy helping out with setting up some sort of electrical booby-trap beyond the cornfields with Rosita. Earl, Marco, Yumiko, and Oliver took charge over distributing weapons from the blacksmithery, and at some point, Yumiko took Oliver aside and gifted him with a hand-crafted mace.

He admired the russet, leather-bound handle, the varnished wood, and the six zig-zagging rows of blunt steel reinforcements running along the shaft. With an awed chuckle, Oliver gave it a smooth test swing. Yumiko smiled and showed him a simple hoop and clip that she attached to his belt beside his knife for him.

"One handed," she explained, "and light-weight, but with a little momentum it does a lot of damage. It's clips on and off like this. Here, try it."

He did, quick and easy with his thumb. He flipped the mace from front-hand to back-hand. It was light enough that it would be difficult to miss it or drop it accidentally. He even tried to re-clip the mace to his hip and pull it free, to see if it might slip loose on its own, but it stayed put, only unclipping when he slipped his thumb under the clip release.

"You like it?"

"Sì, of course," Oliver said, re-clipping it to the shiny new hoop on his hip. "You made it for me?"

"Yeah, well, Earl helped," Yumiko admitted. "He and I figured it was about time you carried something a little more your style."

It meant a lot to Oliver, more than just a simple thank you could give, but he didn't know how to express it beyond quickly grabbing her hand and squeezing it. He hoped it was enough, and he guessed it was because she smiled at him, and together they got on with sharing out the other weapons to everyone.

When they were finished, Oliver headed to Barrington House. Enid was inside the foyer, with Nabila, Kelly, and the children. Kelly was teaching them sign language, which, Oliver guessed, was a good distraction for the children after their stressful morning. A good distraction for herself, too. He guessed, also, that Enid was there to babysit Adam for Earl, since she was no longer busy in the infirmary considering all her patients —Siddiq, Daryl, and Rosita— were refusing anymore treatment, despite their healing injuries, in favour of helping out around the colony.

Enid held Adam in her arms, practising the hand movements Kelly was demonstrating, more to teach herself than Adam, since he was still too young. He still giggled at her, clinging to her hands and jolting to their movements. When she saw Earl coming over, she handed Adam over. She looked happy, if not still purple in the face with a distinct swollen bend in her nose now. Still, Oliver managed to feel some of that happiness as well when she spotted him across the foyer because her smile didn't go away. He was relieved. He'd almost forgotten the feeling of her not being in a permanently sour mood with him.

When Enid's smile fell it wasn't Oliver's fault. He turned and saw Mary coming inside the house behind him, heading over. Instantly, Earl stood up, glaring, and in the same moment Enid stormed across the room to block Mary's path.

"Get out..."

Oliver stepped over to them. Mary saw him coming, a panicked look in her eyes as she twisted to look at him. She pointed behind her, past Enid, to the children.

"I'm going to say hello to my nephew—"

Enid tutted and snatched Mary by the wrist and yanked her outside onto the porch where the children couldn't see them. Oliver followed quickly.

"Please," Mary begged, "Alpha could come at any second!"

"And whose fault is that?" Enid shouted.

Mary kept her eyes down, breathing quickly. "I hate them, too."

Aaron came over from the courtyard. "What's going on here?"

"She's not supposed to go inside," Enid said, in Mary's face now. "She's not supposed to be around the children."

"She's not going to hurt them," Aaron said.

Oliver sighed and stepped back in the hopes Enid might, too. She didn't. Her and Mary's noses were almost touching, bandage brushing skin. Mary lowered her eyes to the floor, her hair matted, clothes ragged, and so dirty that it was believable to imagine she hadn't managed to wash in years. Enid grimaced.

"Do you really want to fight about this now?" Aaron asked her.

"Yeah," Enid said, "I do..."

Mary's eyes flitted up at her face, then Oliver's, then back down to the decking.

"Earl's like a father to me," Enid growled, "and to Adam. And we lost Tammy. And then I lost..." She took a shaky breath and her eyes went empty for a second. She came back onto the decking, into her own body again, lips curling. "And he's been raising that baby, alone, for her, and for us — not for you. He's not yours. He'll never be."

She turned to Aaron.

"And you," she said to him, "you think I'm picking a fight. What, you think I'm being too emotional?"

Aaron didn't answer her.

"If I die tonight it'll be for everything we've been trying to build," Enid told him, and cast out an arm towards the house, "for us all!"

She went back inside, slamming the door behind herself. Oliver waited for Aaron and Mary to leave towards the tents before he went inside after Enid. He wanted to talk to her, to see that she was okay, but she had already disappeared upstairs into her room. Earl cast Oliver a knowing glance, then propped Adam on his hip, dismissed himself from Kelly's class, and went upstairs after Enid.

Oliver decided he needed a drink.

The distillery looked empty when he snuck a glance through the window. Although, when he knocked and opened the door to peer inside, Quan's voice called out to him from behind a tall shelf of colourful masonry jars.

"Is that you again, Mr. Harris? I'm sorry, sir, but Papa Bear told me specifically not to give you or your wife another jar. You've had a jar already. At this rate you'll be smashed before Alpha even — oh."

He spotted Oliver through a jar of Blueshine, his eyes magnified and unnaturally navy through the liquor inside. He moved his head aside to look at Oliver properly, his eyes returning to their normal size and colour.

"Hey."

"Yeah, hi." Oliver grimaced awkwardly and rubbed his hand over his hair. It was knotted, so he pushed it back behind his ears. He decided to make this quick. "So, err, Earl told us all to do what we had to do, to get ready for a fight, so I came to grab a drink, to, you know... take the edge off."

He cringed at himself.

"Shit, I feel that," Quan said, shouldering his way through the awkwardness like he always did. "Here, I've got some leftover Lightning Shine from the fair."

Oliver nodded casually. "I'll go out foraging for berries or herbs as trade. Although, it'll have to be after all this junk with the Whisperers is over."

Quan walked around the shelf and presented a small jar of clear purple liquid. "Ah," he said as Oliver took it, "but can you promise me that you'll even still be alive by then?"

Oliver didn't answer. Adrenalin prickled his stomach.

"That was supposed to be a joke," Quan said.

Oliver shrugged, as if to forget it.

Quan sighed. "Don't worry about trading, man. The shine's yours."

Oliver frowned. "I'm not interested in handouts."

"It's not just you." Quan tutted. "I've been giving away drinks all day. You're like the eighth person to come in here. It's the least Papa Bear and I can do right now."

Oliver nodded, grateful. He felt accomplished, too. Quan knew he wasn't forgiven and Oliver had scored himself a drink. He could've left, but the triumph got the better of him and he instead decided to share this moment.

"Want some?"

Quan huffed a relieved chuckle and nodded. Oliver unclasped the jar lid — well, tried to, but it wasn't possible with only one hand. Quan took it from him, unclasped it. He didn't make some smug joke like Oliver expected. He just drank a small swig and handed it back. Oliver drank, too. The spiced lightning went down his throat smooth and hot. Quan smiled, flattered by the look on Oliver's face. Oliver set the jar down and took a seat on a narrow workshop bench, facing Quan.

"Thanks for the candied-fruit."

Quan didn't say anything, just twisted the corner of his mouth up, then looked down at the floor, nodding.

Oliver sighed. "How are you holding up?"

"Honestly?" Quan asked. "Terrified. More than the last time we thought a herd was coming."

Oliver meant to scoff but just sighed heavily. Finally, he offered Quan another drink, but was declined, so set the jar aside.

"I wanted to apologise," Quan said finally. "I've wanted to for a while now."

Oliver rolled his eyes, but was in a forgiving enough mood to let him go on.

"After the whole mess with Brandon and Negan," Quan said. "I… I want you to know: I didn't realise Brandon still supported him like that."

Oliver frowned. "Good apology."

"No," Quan said. He seemed to be struggling over what to say. "I... I just mean... I trusted Brandon. But a while before he left he started saying things. Weird things. Violent things. I mean, I told him it wasn't cool, and I never really expected him to act on them, obviously. I mean, I figured it was just dumb stuff guys say sometimes. But then he left with Negan, and now he's probably joined the Whisperers, too, and —I don't know— I guess something was off with him. I guess after all those years with him being at Alexandria and me being here at Hilltop, we just... grew into different people, and I didn't realise."

Oliver watched him, waiting.

Quan sighed.

"I'm sorry because you were right," he admitted. "I shouldn't have wanted Brandon as a friend. He's an asshole. He made me an asshole in one day hanging out with him. I shouldn't have said those things to you — in the theatre, or in your room. I shouldn't have let someone make me feel so ashamed of myself."

Oliver glared at him even though swells of smugness were welling up inside him. He couldn't lie to himself. He was a sucker for being told he was right, especially when it came from someone who always seemed so sure of themself, like Quan.

"Look… it's just..." Quan said, struggling still. "I... miss you. Hanging out with you, I mean."

It was hard not to laugh. "You what?"

Quan sucked his teeth. "Don't go getting all weird about it."

Oliver scoffed. "You're masculinity is as fragile as your ballsack, man. And it shows."

Quan tutted, but otherwise didn't deny it.

"We might die tonight," Oliver admitted finally, "right?"

Quan glanced at him slowly. "Right..."

Oliver shrugged, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"So what?" Quan asked him.

"You know what, idiota..."

Quan seemed to because he suddenly had to hide his grin by rubbing his lip with his thumb. "You, uh... still wanna take the edge off?"

Oliver looked at him, glad they'd finally reached the same page, because if he was honest with himself, he was desperate to. He had been for months. It was easy to go without something for a long time if you gave yourself a reason not to dwell on it, which is what had happened for almost eight years. But Quan had awoken something in Oliver, something manic and even something vulnerable. While out at sea, especially, it had been difficult to ignore it in the slight hours of the morning when the moon was still hanging low over the wide open horizon and Oliver found himself alone down in his cabin cot where his mind had time to wander, and even with everything going on, the feelings hadn't gone anywhere. He didn't know what the feelings were exactly, but he knew they were there... bursting.

He was already sweating along his neck and forehead.

He swallowed, his throat dry, and asked, "Where?"

And Quan said, "Here?"

And Oliver said, "What about Papa Bear?"

Quan went to the window. "We have some time. He's busy setting up the catapults."

"What if more people come by to pick up drinks?"

Oliver watched as, in reply, Quan pushed a chair under the doorknob, and with that, it was like any feeling that could possibly disrupt this, what was about to happen, was locked out of the distillery, too. It was just him and Quan among the moonshine shelves. Quan took his wrist and led him to a dim corner towards the back of the shack where the setting sunlight from the windows couldn't touch them through the shimmering shine jars. Their refracted light cast small scattered rays of red and gold and green and indigo across the skin on Quan's shoulders. He looked like some piece of art. Oliver wanted to see the colours better so he untied Quan's apron, pushed aside his suspenders for him, and pulled his vest off over his shoulders. A whole rainbow shone across the skin of Quan's throat. Oliver caught the rays in his mouth, kissing all the colours until he swore he could taste them. The turquoises and the crimsons and the violets. He stepped forward against Quan's chest, pushing him back. A shelf jolted. A jar fell to the wooden floor with a heavy smash and gush. Oliver undid Quan's pant button and slid his fingers under the hem of underwear there. Quan pushed his face against Oliver's collar and gasped.

Quan had the right idea, like he sometimes did:

This was definitely a good way to take the edge off.

That's the same way you showed me
You showed me love
Glory from above
Regard, my dear
It's all downhill from here...

Notes

Hoping this was a nice sort of short-and-sweet ending to hold on to for the next few gruesome chapters to come.

Song was 'Pink + White' by Frank Ocean. Sweet song. Lots of prose.

Happy reading.