Hello anyone and everyone! It's been so long once again! I simply had no inspiration left. Instead, I started a couple of other stories that I don't even know how to end... This is a disgrace. I'm sorry. But I will finish this! (Or at least this season ^^')

And this is the hundreth episode!

EPISODE 100 – Wrath

We don't say much more; I guess we don't need to. We lay for a while in each other's arms and in contentment. He turns on his back, his baby blue eyes gazing pensively at the ceiling; his hand draws odd shapes between my shoulder blades, tender and chaste. I watch his angelic features, marveling at the unclouded gleam, the bright spark still burning in his pupils. I caress the ligns of his traits, awaking a blissful smile with the gentle pad of my fingers, counting the new little lines on his still youthful face, wrinkles that were born from his worries but are coming alive in this peaceful hour. Then, I rest my head on his chest with a serene sigh, just so I can listen to his heartbeat, and his embrace tightens around me.

Our growling stomachs are the ones that end up protesting against our prolonged inaction. So, Connor pulls me up and even needs to assist me down the stairs as if I was an elderly woman. I hate it, but, what can I do? At least I get to grip his lean, strong arm and feel his hand clutching my waist.

We find some snacks in the kitchen before joining the others on the porch. There, Glenn and Maggie have brought little Hershel for a first playdate with Arley. Although Murphy is definitely more excited about it than either of the two oblivious babes. Those two adorable shrimps couldn't look more different, and watching them together makes me realise how tiny my son really is. But I guess it's normal, seeing as, even if they were born only a few days apart, Arley arrived a whole month before his due date. I imagine he'll catch up soon enough.

The twins joke about the inevitable mischiefs these wee moppets will put all of us through in the future. Connor has flung one arm around his brother's shoulder to better watch the baby this one is still holding, and I can't help smiling at that casual display of intimacy. If I have missed both twins individually, I also missed seeing them together. Their precious closeness is one of my favourite things in this world. And the spark in their eyes as they're watching my offspring makes my heart soar.

I instinctively look around for Daryl, though; I wouldn't want him to miss this lovely moment. Yet I'm still surprised when my eyes land on him. He's observing us from afar, leaning on a tree at the left of the house, with his arms crossed. I can't decipher his expression in the shadow of the branches, especially with his grown hair in his face.

So, I limp off the porch and toward him. I only nod at Connor, first, who glances back at me, always watchful. Daryl straightens up as I get closer, but doesn't meet me halfway.

"Hey Daryl! Did ye finally get some rest?" I still ask, my cheerful tone a little forced, faced with his icy behaviour.

He grunts an answer that means neither 'yes' nor 'no'. Maybe it means 'leave me the fuck alone'. I have to wonder if he's angry with me for entrusting our son with Murphy.

"Come on over, it's Hershel and Arley's first time meeting; don't ye want to be there?"

"Am good," he only mumbles.

My jaw clenches and I swallow hard. "Are ye mad at me?"

"I ain't mad."

I open my mouth and close it again like a fish out of the water. I'm at a loss. But before I can lose my temper, I take a deep breath and utter through gritted teeth:

"Suit yerself then."

I spin on my heels and stroll back – as much as I can – to the house. Although I find that my eyes are welling up with frustration, and I can't stay with the others. I swiftly excuse myself to go back to my room, slamming the door behind me. When I fall on my bed, it's to scream into a pillow.

Why the fuck can't we talk like normal people? Maybe we're both too damaged. Maybe we've passed the point where this could be fixable. The both of us were already beyond fucked-up before all this. And Negan's abuse was probably the last drop. Whatever I might try, I can't undo what happened.

"Hey lad!" Connor's voice resounds from behind the curtains of the bedroom's window. "What in hell did ye say to Tine? She looked like ye'd told her to fuck off!"

I can only assume he's talking to Daryl. And that they have no idea I can hear them. I can't see outside either, but I can discern that Connor isn't joking around. Shit. I should intervene. Only there is a part of me that can't help feeling relieved that someone has got my back. That part of me is selfish and spineless but it's what's keeping me from moving and revealing myself.

"Ye know," my saint continues, as the other man remains unresponsive, "I don't care what's yer excuse, if ye hurt her in any way, I'll kick yer sorry ass."

"Whatcha waitin' for then?" is Daryl's spiteful answer.

And it's Connor's turn to remain silent now. So, Daryl resumes his taunting with a broken voice.

"Ya're a year late, man!" He chuckles dryly. "Ya realize she got taken because of me? She followed me in those woods... And then, she coulda left any time if I hadn't been there. She fuckin' had sex with that bastard because of me! And ya? Ya fuckin' let that happen!"

At this point, I'm just frozen in disbelief. "No…" is the only weak noise that comes out of my mouth, but they obviously can't hear it.

"Ye need to shut the fuck up now." A cold rage is sipping through Connor's words.

"Or what? The truth too hard to hear, Connor? Ya get to pat yourself on the back now, tellin' yourself ya did a good job cuz he's dead? Ain't that a treat! Ya fuckin' coward!"

I recognise a low thump that finally springs me into action. I yank the curtains to see Daryl roughly pushing Connor's chest, prompting him to fight back. I can easily understand that Daryl hates himself above anyone else in that moment, and if he's begging for a fight, it's only to punish himself. I'm sure my saint knows that as well, however, patience has never been either of the twins' virtue. And if he's always tried to defuse situations first, Connor is not above throwing a punch.

I rush to open the window and stop them, only it's too late. Connor's fist lands on Daryl's jaw before I can do anything.

"Quit it!" I still yell at them.

Connor immediately turns to me with wide eyes, already remorseful, although that means he doesn't see the retaliation coming. Daryl strikes him in the stomach with an uppercut that has him folded in half, the air knocked out of his lungs. The hunter knows it won't be enough, though, and prepares a second blow, only Connor launches himself at him, ramming his shoulder in Daryl's sternum, throwing them both on the ground.

Fucking hell, if only I had recovered sufficiently to jump down that fucking window and come between them! As it is, I can only cry out like a madwoman.

Thankfully, that's enough to alert Murphy. He runs over – having left Arley with Maggie I presume –, while the two eejits are still rolling on the floor.

He wrests his brother off Daryl and pushes him away. "Hey! Have ye fucking lost it?"

Then he turns to the other, that quickly got on his feet as well but doesn't attack. "Ye alright lad?" I guess Murphy assumes Connor would have the upper hand in any fight, even someone as deadly as Daryl.

This one only replies by spitting blood on the ground, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, with a look that would kill a lesser man on the spot. Then, he turns around and leaves without a word.

So, I turn my back on them and let myself slide down the wall, weeping in my hands.

So, here, I still wanted a little drama, because I didn't want all to be resolved with just a murder. I felt that such long trauma would leave its mark... But it can only get better from there! Please bear with me!