Whew! That last chapter was a long one and Daryl STILL hasn't seen Beth, but there were a lot of seeds that needed to be planted for later chapters… Bethyl's coming, people, I promise!

And now, in the immortal words of Samuel L. Jackson, "Hold on to your butts…"

Chapter 4: Arrival, Part II

Rick wastefully let the water run in the bathroom sink as he scrubbed his face tiredly. He'd taken, in the last few days, to seeking out impromptu hiding spots to grab a few minutes' peace for himself. Pathetic, he knew, but it was all he could do to keep sane.

Difficult couldn't begin to describe the struggle after Negan and the Saviors had driven away, leaving their group in emotionally-ragged tatters on the ground. It had been all Rick could do to get them on their feet, get them moving back towards home. Glenn had, naturally, been the most resistant, wanting to mount an immediate search for his wife, his loud protests drawing in a few straggling walkers that had to be dealt with while they tried to stop him from taking off on foot in the direction Maggie had been taken, screaming insults in Rick's face until his voice cracked for not stopping this, for not even seeming to care that she was in trouble. Rick hadn't taken any of it to heart. Sometimes the emotions just had to spill out to relieve the pressure.

But they had jobs to do. Had to get home, bury Eugene, tell the others, warn Hilltop, prepare for Negan's inevitable arrival. Rick couldn't afford to fall apart (at least, not any more than he already had in front of Negan). Someone had to keep their group going.

Tyrese and Sasha had been unexpected god-sends. The siblings had wordlessly lent their support to Rick and used a divide-and-conquer approach to help him get everyone organized, Sasha focusing on helping Abraham and Rosita wrap Eugene's body for transport and Tyrese pulling Glenn into a gentle but firm bear hug until the smaller man's frenzy was exhausted enough to be herded into the RV before murmuring in Rick's ear that he would make the solo trip to Hilltop so they'd know what happened. Michonne had her arms around Carl, drawing strength from her adopted son as much as she was lending it.

Telling the community hadn't been easy; there were discontented murmurs and outright vocal protests (Spencer Monroe being the ringleader of that particular crowd). Eric had taken the news with surprising aplomb. Rick had gone to him personally, before pulling everyone else to the church, he felt he owed that to Aaron to try and honor what might have been his last request.

"Is he alive?" had been Eric's only question at seeing Rick's pallor when he opened the front door.

"Yes, but it's bad," Rick's hushed tone matched the red-head's, spying Luke at the breakfast bar, happily ignoring his toast while focused on a coloring book.

The two men had stepped out onto the porch so Rick could explain privately.

"Can we get him back?"

"I don't know. But we're going to try."

And that had been enough to momentarily satisfy the worried boyfriend and father.

But four days later, it seemed Rick's calm, logistic approach was grating on nearly everyone's nerves. Didn't everyone else realize he was just as freaked out as they were? He just didn't have the luxury of showing it. Negan would be at their gates in a matter of days, they weren't even sure what he wanted and so they didn't have much of an idea of how to prepare. They certainly had no clear plan of attack for rescuing their friends, if such a thing were even possible. And if they screwed this up, they could lose even more people than they already had. So Rick kept his cool. And if his trips to the bathroom or quick checks on Judith in the night had grown more frequent or lasted a little longer than strictly necessary, well, that's what he needed to stay strong for everyone else.

A tattered road map of Virginia was spread out on Abraham and Sasha's kitchen table, marked with the places they knew: their own location, Hilltop, the outpost they'd burned, roads they knew were passable (and the ones they knew to avoid). Rick would have preferred to use his own home as their base of operations, so that, if they got caught, the focus would be on him instead of anyone else in their family. But Abraham's strategic training had prevailed when he pointed out that doing so would also mean drawing potential attention to his children, and after nearly being forced to mutilate his own son, Rick was desperate to keep Carl and Judith as far away from Negan as he could. So, even though it put them on the safe zone's main road, at the entrance to the middle of their three cul-de-sacs and therefore at most foot-traffic-heavy part of their community, Abraham and Sasha's home had been deemed the most suitable place to meet. A new mark had been added, the fork in the road where they'd been terrorized by the Saviors.

"What if Towers is a reference to some of the high-rises in DC? After going North, they could have cut East right here, headed for Arlington. Or even stayed on the highway and come around the capitol from the Northwest side," Sasha's finger traced the potential paths on the page.

"Trouble is, this map's only showing state roads and major highways. They could have turned off on any two-bit county street. We need something more detailed," Tyrese noted.

"What if Towers means a radio tower?" Glenn posited. "I mean, they were set up at a satellite relay station, and some of them were wearing walkie-talkies. Seems communication is a thing for them."

"Radio tower, water tower, for all we fucking know, Towers is Negan's way of screwing with us and it's in a damn valley with nothing taller than a grasshopper's tits," Abraham's temper flared.

"What if we focus instead on their main hub?" Rick tried to break up the bickering before it got worse.

"And what, just forget about Maggie?!"

"No," Rick tried to appease Glenn for what felt like the 80th time that morning alone, "But this is getting us nowhere. Smaller outposts could be anywhere. And with three hostages and Tara, Carol, and Morgan still out on the road where we can't find them, we've got too many unknowns and not enough fighters to spread ourselves thin for a random search and still protect everyone here. But it might be possible to find Negan's main camp. It's more likely to be a fortified stronghold like this place. We know the convoy went South of the fork, but we'd have found it already if it were between here and Hilltop, so it must be further South than that, but still close enough that they can make those weekly runs and organize against us the way they did. Something big enough to house all the Saviors he brought out there that night, plus anyone else he didn't, would be big enough to be noticeable. And he can't have all these supposed outposts without a map like this one to keep track of them all. We find his primary base of operation, we can find a direct route to Maggie and get Aaron and Daryl back in the process."

He leveled looks at each person, hoping that cooler heads would prevail. But it didn't matter as the front door opened with a bang and Francine announced, "They're here."

By the time Rick made it to the gate after a quick jog to his own home to tell Carl to keep Judith occupied and out of sight, trusting that the rest of the group would secure their map and notes, he could see Negan and Spencer engaged in a conversation. And whatever Spencer was saying, Negan's smile did nothing to hide his irritation. Just what we need.

Still, he couldn't stop his own frustrated comment before it slipped out, "You're early."

Negan's expression turned downright wolfish as his eyes met Rick's, "I missed you."

Being made to carry the instrument of Eugene's brutal execution and follow Negan as he crowed about the "embarrassment of riches" Alexandria had to offer was bad enough; being told he couldn't even look at Daryl, much less talk to him, was nearly intolerable. His brother looked awful, stringy hair covering his face but not fully concealing the dark bags under his eyes, and the dingy sweats marked with the capital A (what the Hell was that even about?) could be concealing any number of injuries. Daryl's shuffling steps and hunched shoulders were nothing like the confident hunter Rick knew him to be, and it brought to mind Tyrese's confided concerns from his observation on the road: Negan was holding something over Daryl's head, something neither man could put a finger on, but it was clearly so formidable a threat that it had taken the fight completely out of one of the fiercest men Rick had ever known. And with Negan and the Saviors, anything unknown was dangerous.

"We're going to have a look around, get to know the people here, see what the fuck-all it is you have to offer," Negan explained as they walked down the slight hill at the start of Alexandria's main street.

"What about Maggie?" Glenn's voice carried out as he rushed out from between two houses, "What did you do to her?"

Rick mentally groaned. This was a delicate situation, and Glenn's emotions made him more like the proverbial bull in a china shop. Rick had hoped Tyrese would be able to keep him away from the Saviors, but, clearly, the former delivery man had been too quick and determined.

But if Negan found the outburst rude, he didn't show it. "Well, hello, Baby-Daddy. And here I was thinking you might be out there trying to make good on your promise. Maggie, I'll find you! But I'm glad to see you made the wiser choice. So I tell you what: if everything goes smoothly here today, I will give you an update on your wife and baby-mama before we leave. To that end, things would go much more fucking smoothly if most everyone were at their homes. Makes it easier for my people to get an accurate head-count, get answers to any questions they might have. Not you, Rick," he added as his unspoken dismissal sent Glenn and the few more courageous onlookers shuffling away. "Need my tour guide, might get fucking lost here without you."

"But I must say," Negan turned to more fully face Rick, "I am surprised that no one's even fucking bothered to ask about Aaron. Did I get that wrong? Is he not as fucking important to the community as I thought?"

"I was hoping to talk to you about that," Rick did his best to keep his tone respectful. "I-"

But whatever plea he might have made for the hostages' safe return was cut short by the sound of a single gunshot.

Eric had kept Luke preoccupied for two days before the six-year-old's insistent questions about his Papa's prolonged absence could no longer be brushed aside. Eric had been as gentle and positive about it as he could, trying to couch his words in a way that wouldn't frighten his boy. But a child's intuition was a powerful thing, and Luke had been thoroughly shaken ever since. He no longer slept alone but curled up next to Eric at night, his fists tightly gripping his Daddy's pajamas for fear he'd disappear, too.

So when word had spread through the subdivision that the Saviors had arrived, in full force and ahead of schedule, Eric had quickly scooped Luke up from their backyard patio and sealed themselves up inside the house with the curtains drawn.

It wasn't enough. The knock at the door wasn't a harsh banging, but it wasn't to be ignored, either. Eric rejected the fleeting notion of sending Luke to hide in his closet and instead picked him up, tucking the boy's head against his shoulder as he carefully opened the door.

Two men in matching black sunglasses and long coats opened to display matching wood rosary beads around their necks stood side by side on the front porch at what almost seemed a respectful distance from the door.

"May we come in?" the polite question in a lilting Irish accent seemed strangely comforting, and even Luke was curious enough to turn and look at the strange men.

"I suppose there's not really much point in refusing," Eric was resigned as he stepped aside to allow them access.

"Not really," one acknowledged with a wry grin as they simultaneously removed their sunglasses, "But this is a visit you might just find yourself not minding so much. You are Eric, right, Eric Raleigh?"

He nodded and couldn't help but stiffen, more suspicious at the familiar address than he was by just having random Saviors in his home.

"And that would make you Luke, yes?" the second man addressed the boy directly with a friendly smile. "This is for you, it's from your Dad."

Luke looked uncertainly between the outstretched leather-bound book and his Dad. "I think he means your Papa," Eric softly corrected, taking the book in his free hand before turning to the two men, his demeanor a little less guarded, "Aaron? This is from Aaron?"

"Aye, he asked us to pass this along, wanted you to know he was alright. Go on, open it."

The first pages were covered edge to edge in a hastily printed scrawl that Eric would recognize anywhere. "Go on, Buddy," he encouraged, "Can you read that first bit there?"

The boy used his index finger to follow the words as he carefully sounded out, "Dear Luke – hey, that's me!" His curly-haired head was now fully off his Dad's shoulder as he excitedly read on in slow determination, "I love you and Daddy so much and I'm so sorry I'm not there with you right now. Tell Daddy not to worry; I'm okay. Does that mean Daddy's coming home soon?"

"Sorry, lad, I'm afraid his new job is going to keep him away a while longer. But, while he's gone, he wanted to be sure he could keep in touch with you and your Dad, so he got you this book, and another just like it. See, he's written to you, and there's all these blank pages so you can write him back, draw pictures, whatever you like, and next week, we'll take it to him and bring you a new letter from him."

"But he's okay? Really?" Eric used his son's distraction with the book to let some of his worry show through.

"He's okay. Would rather be here, of course. But he's comfortable, has food, his own space, good work to keep himself occupied. And Aaron's a good man, already made a few friends, people who are looking out for him, us included."

"I, thank you doesn't seem enough, but…" Eric trailed off helplessly, but they were already waving him off.

"Least we can do for a friend. I'm Murphy, by the way, and this lout over here is my brother, Connor. Oh! Almost forgot," Murphy reached behind his back to pull the second journal from his waistband. "The one you've got there stays so you can add to it through the week, but this one," he handed the blank journal to Eric, "Aaron doesn't know we took this one, too, it's the one he's meant to be writing in this week. Thought it might be nice to surprise him with a quick note from the two of you."

Connor stepped up as Eric set Luke down, ran excitedly upstairs to get his art supplies. "I'm sorry to have to do this, but the other reason we're here is to search the house. Negan wants a thorough count of everyone who lives here."

Eric nodded, "It's fine. Should expect it, I suppose. Can Luke and I be down here together while you do whatever it is you have to do?"

"We'd prefer it, actually. Hey," he added brightly at Luke's return. "Looks like we've a budding artist on our hands." He turned back to the adults, "Won't be long." And he slipped upstairs while Eric and Luke busied themselves on the couch, discussing what they wanted to say to Aaron in the short time they had. Murphy gave them a bit of privacy while sweeping through the downstairs areas and garage.

"Hate to bother you," Connor finished first, though Murphy was close behind, "The extra bedroom and the second bunk in Luke's room?"

"Oh, Judith, one of the other kids, she and Luke have regular sleepovers. And the extra bedroom is technically Daryl's, that's why his things are there, but he hardly ever sleeps in there and now, I guess, it doesn't really-"

The gunshot caught him off-guard, and Luke jumped into his arms.

The brothers were all business, checking the windows, hands resting on their holstered handguns. It was almost comical, how in sync they were with each other, if the situation weren't so serious.

"Stay here," Connor urged as they both slid out the door.

Not a problem, Eric thought to himself while carrying Luke back to the couch. "Come on," he said with false brightness, "Let's write to Papa."

Negan kept pace several steps ahead of Rick as he strode towards the Grimes house, where the shot seemed to have originated. If Rick weren't so preoccupied with making sure one of his children wasn't injured (or worse), he might have risked dropping back to check on Daryl, who had dutifully trailed behind both leaders for the duration of the visit and was following them still, eyes trained on the road.

Inside the main room, Negan had already positioned himself between one of his Saviors and Carl's outstretched gun. Rick felt miserably helpless as he took up a spot to his son's side, wanting to reach out and snatch the handgun before Carl did something they couldn't possibly come back from.

"Well, excuse the shit out of my god-damned French, but did you just threaten me?"

With Daryl hovering just inside the entryway and Carl staring down Negan defiantly in front of him, it was the worst case of "caught between a rock and a hard place" Rick could remember. If he stepped in to stop his son, after Negan had already warned him off, Daryl would likely pay the price. More specifically, Rick would likely be forced to make Daryl pay, based on Negan's earlier threats. But if Carl didn't shut up and hand over the gun, Negan was very likely to lose patience with his latest cat-and-mouse game and have Lucille claim another victim, and Rick was not prepared to bury his son.

He reached for the gun with poorly-hidden relief as soon as Carl relaxed his grip, but Rick already knew in his heart the damage had been done. And when he considered the alternatives, the penalty was almost reasonable. If the tables had been turned, disarming the Saviors would have been one of Rick's first moves. If anything, he should have been surprised Negan hadn't demanded it from the start.

At least the leather-clad man was smiling about it, "Rick, where are my guns?"

They were two guns short. Sweet Jesus, can we catch one god-damned break? Sasha watched in frustrated dismay as Negan rounded on Olivia, questioning her abilities with the inventory. And her fingernails bit into her palms every time Daryl made another silent trip past her to load their family's weapons into the Saviors' trucks. Daryl's face was unreadable - he didn't even flinch when Negan had aimed a gun inches from his face earlier – but Sasha had no trouble putting herself in his shoes and knew just how boiling mad she'd be if she were forced to actively disarm and leave helpless the people she loved.

Fucking Negan. And Fucking Carl – was it really that hard keep your mouth shut and watch your sister for an hour?

"Two guns missing, so I'm going to give you two hours," Negan's voice interrupted Sasha's musings. "Miss Olivia here will keep me company while you search. Two hours exactly to do this your way, Rick, and then, if both of my guns aren't in my hands, on time, we will look for them my way. And you. Will. Not. Like it. Arat!" He suddenly called out, "Go fetch me my Daryl."

Sasha wanted to stay, to keep an eye on whatever was about to happen, but Rick was already pulling her off to the side, "Get everybody to the church. We're going to have to do this fast."

Sasha glanced back to Negan, who was holding a small notepad in front of Daryl's face, telling him, "When you're finished with the guns, these go next. Start with the Grimes house."

But whatever was on the list, Sasha couldn't see and Rick didn't seem to care as he tugged on her sleeve to get her focus back, "Our best chance to help them is to find those guns so the Saviors will leave."

Sasha nodded as she turned away. With a predatory smile and Lucille visibly perched over his shoulder, Negan offered his right arm to a trembling Olivia, "Right his way, my dear."

Rick was right, Sasha agreed, but she didn't have to like it.

It wasn't the most comfortable lawn chair he'd ever sat on, but the view it afforded him of Alexandria's main street made the glass patio table and metal chairs decidedly prime real estate. He thumbed casually through the inventory notebook while discretely watching Olivia, who was sitting on the edge of her own seat next to him, hands in her lap in a white-knuckled grip that couldn't be comfortable. Still not speaking to her, he ripped a page out of the back with a slow tear just to see what's she'd do. Fucking Christ, she's a twitchy thing. Probably more than half-way to pissing herself. He pulled a pen from his inner jacket pocket and casually scrawled a note on the torn page before folding it and sliding it, and the pen, back into his leather coat.

"Olivia, may I call you Olivia?" Negan turned his attention to the quivering brunette sitting next to him. Jesus, this is going to take some serious fucking patience. "Relax. Despite my reputation which I'm sure has been the topic of many a conversation recently, I don't actually enjoy killing. Well, not women, at least. I have done it, of course, and will probably have to do it again, but you're safe for today. I just find that Rick Grimes needs a very particular fire lit under his ass to get him moving at my preferred rate of hustle, and I do have other places and things on my to-do list for today. So," he brought his hands down on the table and Olivia jumped as if she's been slapped.

Oh for fuck's sake… He tried to keep a look of impatience from sweeping over his face. Give me the kid with the one-eyed stink-eye and a gun in my face any day. This is fucking ridiculous. In what he hoped was his most soothing voice, he tried again, "Look, I'm not going to hurt you, alright? I have some questions about the inventory. You seem to be the one in charge of said inventory, which makes you the best person for answering said questions. I ask, you answer, just a simple give-and-take. That's it. That's all I want. Okay?" Fucking Hell, it's like talking to a three-year-old!

"Okay." Shaky, but at least it was a verbal response. He'd take what he could get at this point.

"Good! Now we're getting somewhere." He held up the composition notebook, "This right here, this is the only inventory, correct?"

An affirmative nod.

"And you're the only one who writes in it?" Another nod. "So anyone who wants something, they have to go through you?"

"That's right."

Actual words, holy mother of God. It's a fucking miracle. "So tell me how this works. Say I want to get a gun from the store room. What do I do?"

He watched her body language more than listened to her words as she explained her process. The more relaxed he could get her to be, the more effectively he could get her to be of use to him. And like it or not, since Olivia was the one Alexandria was most comfortable with when it came to their supplies, he was stuck dealing with her. At least, for now.

The more she talked, answering his little follow-up questions, the more her posture improved. Bit by bit, keeping her focused on her area of expertise and keeping his own voice soft and calm, he watched Olivia shift into a more comfortable position in her chair, saw through the glass table-top as her hands released their death-grip, even saw them pop above the table's edge to gesture as she spoke.

Just about there. He had a gift for reading people, knowing who needed a threat to push them along (i.e. Rick Fucking Grimes and his equally stubborn son), and who would be more motivated by an easy smile and a bit of charm. I think we're ready.

"Olivia, I think you're doing a great job here. This is thorough, it's up-to-speed, you've clearly put in a lot of time and thought to your process. I believe in giving credit where it's due, and I think a lot of these people here wouldn't be alive today if you weren't so organized with all this." Gotta give praise before criticism, spoonful of sugar and all that.

"I just have two things, observations really, you know, just an outsider's perspective. And the first, I think you've already picked up on. Someone here is taking advantage of your good nature, working your system. And I'm sure you would have caught it, the two guns, we just happened to get here before you could correct it. I don't have any set ideas on how to fix this for the future," other than letting Lucille take the hands off the motherfucking thief who steals from his own people, "but it's something you might want to discuss with Rick, or someone else you trust and can bounce ideas off of. I'm not here to change how Alexandria handles internal issues. I just want to be sure that your problems don't become my problems."

"You could leave, stop coming in and taking our things."

Ooh, lookie there, she's got a backbone after all! He kept the pleasant smile but his eyes shifted to something a little more predatory, "That's not going to happen. Your people killed my people. And when I sent scouts to find out more, to narrow down who the real threats were, you killed even more of my people. That's not cool. And you're gonna have to pay for it. You could pay in blood, like old Eugene, but as I look around, y'all really don't have that much blood to spare, do you? Not for the 30-plus lives you took from me and mine. So what's the answer? How do we keep rule of law and find a way to move forward without just killing each other until no one's left standing? The most humane solution I can see is that you pay back your debt with goods and services. You become contributing members of the new society we're building. Which, by the way," he went back to a more cheerful tone. And here comes the pitch, "brings me back to my second little take-away from looking over this inventory. It's incomplete."

Olivia bristled, sitting up a bit straighter at the insult. Negan let his shoulders drop just a bit, a visual cue that he was backing down, even though he wasn't going to do anything of the sort. Easy does it. "No, no, now don't go getting all offended. I meant what I said earlier, what you've got here is great, fantastic even. If I wanted to know anything at all about the food situation, or the weapons, this book you've got is the fucking Bible."

"But I can also see from this list, and from what I saw of all those empty shelves in your storeroom, that taking your food would be a huge burden, maybe more than you people could handle. Hilltop ought to pitch in, they helped get you into this mess after all, but what if they can't? Or don't? What if you could pay back your debt to me without going even more hungry than you already are? I told Rick earlier today that there was a ton of good stuff here, and I meant it, but none of that is here," he tapped the notebook.

"Today has been a big damn headache for all of us – going into homes, everybody getting all riled up and emotional. All of that could be avoided in the future if I could just come to you and say, 'this is what we need', and you pull out your handy-dandy notebook and tell me where to go and get it. The way I see it, Olivia, you are in a uniquely powerful position to make all this easier on your friends and neighbors. It also makes things easier on me which, I'll admit, is more important to me than your peace of mind."

Olivia's slight eye-roll didn't bother Negan as much as others might have thought. At least she's relaxed enough to stop twitching like a fucking bunny rabbit. And she's listening. "So what would it take for you to build a complete inventory of everything Alexandria has? I'm talking furniture, knick-knacks, books, the whole kit and caboodle?

Olivia's eyes were on the table, but he could see the wheels-turning expression on her face. Question is, is she thinking about how to answer or is she deciding whether or not to do it?

"A whole lot more notebooks, that's for sure." She seemed to be talking to herself rather than engaging with Negan, but he ran with it anyway.

"Sure, notebooks!" he replied with enthusiasm, "We can get you some of those. Actually…" he purposefully trailed off and began tapping his fingers absently on the table as if deep in thought. He made a show of looking around, "There's got to be somebody… Tyler! My man Tyler, come here," he beckoned with two fingers to a Savior passing by.

"The trip to Culpepper, all that shit we picked up for the school, didn't some of those crates stay on the truck?"

"Uh, yeah, boss, I think there are still a few boxes we didn't pull."

There was no "trip", of course, and Negan ran too tight a ship to have valuable supplies just left on random trucks, but Olivia (and anyone she would undoubtedly discuss this little exchange with) didn't need to know that he'd been anticipating a need to get more detailed information from his newly-acquired gold mine. And I sure as shit am not doing all the grunt-work myself. Not when these people can do it for me and be fucking grateful for the opportunity.

"Olivia here needs notebooks. Go get a couple of the boys and pull – "he turned back to Olivia, "What do you want? More like these?" he gestured to the composition notebook. "Or the spiral kind? Binders maybe? I don't know, you're the expert here. What's going to work best for you?"

"I guess binders might be easier. I can keep adding things in and move them around until I figure out how I want to organize everything," she replied uncertainly.

But Negan had already jumped on the idea and was turning back to the man waiting behind him, "Binders, lots of binders, whatever we've got. And a couple of reams of paper. And those colored tab divider things… you know, just grab it all, and Olivia can sort through it on her own, figure out what she wants. Oh, and an envelope. Gotta little something I want to leave for Rick." Negan patted his jacket pocket.

As the Savior walked away to follow orders, Negan turned back to Olivia, "Are you thinking of doing this more by category, or by address? We need some kind of color-coding, maybe? You strike me as the type who had a different colored notebook for each subject – "

But he stopped short of his next thought as he watched all the color suddenly drain from her face, and then heard soft footsteps coming from around the side of the house they were next to. If some fuck-faced idiot is about to undo all my hard work, they're about to have a really bad fucking day. But when Negan turned to see what had his new supply clerk so spooked, his eyes lit up and his grin widened in genuine glee.

"Well hello there, gorgeous! And who might you be?"

Rick was just about to send everyone to their homes to start searching when Enid burst into the church.

"Rick, I'm so sorry, I thought Carl was… she just…" she couldn't get her thoughts together and Rick grabbed the teen's shoulders to steady her.

"Enid, what are you trying to tell me?"

"Negan has Judith."

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