Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate the feedback and try to answer all your questions (without giving anything away, of course!). And now, without further ado...
Chapter 6: Arrival, Part IV
Rick had wanted to ask Eric what he'd meant by his cryptic comment to Negan, but the man had slipped away before the Saviors had left, so he turned his focus to Olivia instead. "Are you alright?"
The woman nodded, "He didn't hurt Judith. Just played with her right there at the table, asked her questions, but she wasn't scared or anything."
Rick smiled softly and stepped closer, even though most of the people who had gathered were slowly trickling back to their own homes, "I'm asking about you."
Olivia breathed a deep sigh, "I'm okay," she replied but with a slight shake to her voice. "I'm going to need your help, though, before he comes back."
"What does he want?"
"A complete inventory. Everything in every house, garage, shed, the church. All of it, right down to the number of forks and knives."
It was something they'd talked about before, both just the two of them and as a community. But each time the idea of cataloging everyone's possessions had come up, it had been rejected. Most of the people who had been at Alexandria from the start had managed to keep, if not their homes, at least a majority of their personal belongings, and that's how they viewed them. Not belonging to the community as a whole, but to the individuals and families. But it seemed that notion was going out the window now – everything they had was now potentially Negan's for the taking.
"We'll delegate it out, every family can inventory their own house and turn the lists over to you. We'll get some folks to help you put everything together, separate it all into categories from there."
"And how will we be sure that everyone is being thorough?"
He knew what she meant – who was going to check behind the people they suspected would try to stash things away?
"Those of us who have more adults in their homes can help those who might need a few extra sets of hands to get the job done. And I can assign a leader to each street, like I did today with the search, just as a back-up."
Olivia agreed, "Thanks. No offense, but I don't exactly want to find out what happens if my inventory comes up short a second time."
"We won't let that happen," Rick promised.
"It's not your fault, you know," she added softly.
"Still my responsibility." He shifted topics, "What is it that he wanted you to give me?"
Olivia reached into her back pocket and pulled out a folded envelope. "I didn't get a chance to read it. He wrote it before Judith came over and then sealed it up as soon as his men brought over the supplies."
"What supplies?" Rick asked with interest.
"Notebooks, paper, things to make it easier for me to get the inventory together quickly."
"Sounds like he came prepared," he noted wryly.
"He said something about it all originally being for a school?" She was uncertain, "I don't know, that's about when Judy came around the corner and I was hoping she'd walk by without him seeing…"
Rick waved it off, "It's alright. Not like he wouldn't have found out about her and all the other kids eventually."
He tore through the envelope's seal and pulled out the folded piece of notebook paper. Negan's cursive was surprisingly neat:
Those two guns aren't all that twat Spencer Monroe had squirreled away in his own private stores, were they? I'd keep a close eye on him if I were you. Your boy, too. Kid's going to be more trouble than he's worth if you can't get a handle on that.
But if we all had to pay for the stupid shit we pulled as teenagers, there'd be none of us left. So tell Asian Baby-Daddy that if he's looking for a little light reading, he should do some research on ovarian cysts and the complications they can cause for pregnancies.
And no, you can't have your Daryl back. I told you, he's mine now.
Rick scowled. Dammit. The guns had been at Spencer's house, hidden in the floorboards along with several expensive bottle of liquor and cans of food. It irked him that Negan had put it together with little-to-no extra clues, and Rick couldn't figure how he'd done it. Or how he'd known that Rick's first priority among the hostages would be Daryl. He was used to being the one able to read people and situations, and he didn't like it at all that Negan had the upper hand.
"Is it bad?" Olivia asked.
He'd almost forgotten she was there. He shook his head, both to answer and to clear his thoughts. "Nothing I shouldn't have expected, I suppose. You need any help getting whatever he left for you inside?"
"No, the Saviors already moved everything."
"Alright, go home, try to take it easy for the rest of the day."
"Will you?"
Another head-shake, "Think I'm going to check on Carl, see if Michonne's back, maybe take Judy over to Eric's. Let the kids have a play-date. If anyone asks…"
"Much-needed family time, got it," Olivia smiled.
"Michonne and Carl are headed to your house now, actually, Abraham just met them at the gate and is walking with them," Sasha supplied as she walked up to the pair. "And Tyrese is with Glenn, working on getting him calmed down."
Rick nodded grimly, remembering Negan's violent promise. If he'd been in Glenn's shoes, he'd be more than a little shaken by the brutally specific threat. "I should probably – "
"Stop right there," Sasha put a restraining hand on Rick's chest, "We've got this. None of us is going to get through this alone. Go home, spend a little time with your family, get your mind right. I think that playdate/sleepover idea you mentioned earlier sounds good. Maybe a few of us will swing by later, check in on Eric, keep him company for a little while."
Rick could read between the lines, Group meeting tonight, only those we trust. And not that he didn't trust most of his community, but when things went sideways, there were just certain people he'd rather have in his corner. And others who needed to be protected. He eyed Olivia before making a decision, "Why don't you join us at Eric's later on tonight?"
Both she and Sasha were uncertain, "Are you sure?" Olivia queried.
"Yeah," the more Rick thought about it, the more he felt that this was the right call. "After everything that happened today, I think you probably need to unwind more than most anybody here." And after all that time you spent with Negan, I need to pick your brain. Anything could be the slightest advantage that tips the scales back in our favor.
They weren't even five minutes into the drive and Daryl was already gripping the steering wheel to keep from punching the man next to him. Almost as soon as he'd pointed Daryl towards interstate 95-South, he'd pulled out an iPod and connected it to a cassette-tape adaptor so he could blast Queen's "Fat-Bottom Girls" on the truck's stereo.
"I know it's rude as shit, but the whole damn time I was sitting there with Olivia, it's like this song was on permanent repeat in my brain. Just had to hear it!" He rolled his window down and alternated between humming and whistling along while tapping his fingers to the beat on the baseball bat's grip where it was situated between his legs.
It's like Merle, Beth's voice came to his mind unbidden as he navigated down the highway. The long-abandoned cars had all been pushed off to the sides, creating a clear path down the middle of the two-lane highway, a clear indicator that this was a frequently-used route. Pushin' your buttons just to see what sets you off. Makes him feel safer.
It was one of the first conversations they'd ever had, just after the Governor's initial meeting with Rick. Even though they had all spent the winter on the road together, Daryl had seen no need to talk to Hershel's youngest. He'd had his hands full trying to keep everyone safe and fed, and Beth had been just another hungry mouth. But when they'd come back and heard that Merle and Glenn had gotten into a fight that Beth had been forced to break up by firing a round into the ceiling, Daryl had pulled her aside afterwards. "He say anything to you?" he knew just how crude Merle could be and had already had to warn his brother more than once about the way he'd leered at the women in their group.
Beth had surprised him by rolling her eyes and smirking, "Of course he has. He's Merle. What'd you expect?"
"Dammit," Daryl had growled. "I'll make him leave you be from now on."
But she'd laughed outright at that, "No, you won't." But she'd gotten serious then, "Daryl, it's fine. Come on, look at me. Curly blonde hair and big blue eyes. Even lookin' like a twig, you really think Merle Dixon's the first country boy to cat-call me? It's a good thing Maggie and Shawn both graduated 'fore I got to high school. They'd've been in fights every day to hear what the boys used to shout down the hallways. Merle ain't got nothin' to say to me that I ain't heard before. He's harmless," she'd declared.
At Daryl's derisive snort, she'd qualified, "Alright, at least he's harmless to me. Merle's just… some people've always got their backs against the wall, you know? And they figure if someone's gonna pick a fight, it might as well be them who swings first. Can't know what to hit if they don't know what'll hurt the most. So he pushes buttons til he finds what makes 'em tick. Merle's just one of those."
Daryl had taken a swig from his canteen to hide his feelings. Even after being accepted by their group, he wasn't used to people reading him and his brother so well, or being so understanding about his brother's foul mouth and quick temper. She had shrugged her shoulders before adding, "But if it makes you feel better to say somethin' to him, at least then maybe he won't slip up around Maggie and she won't cut his balls off, keep him from furthering the Dixon family line."
He'd choked and sputtered to keep from spitting water to hear that coming out of Hershel Greene's baby girl. From the red flush in her cheeks, she'd been just as surprised at herself as he was. Being a gentleman (or as much of a gentleman as anyone with the last name Dixon could be), he'd tried to cover their mutual embarrassment, "Cuttin' down the Dixon family tree is probably the best thing that could ever happen to it."
Now, the more he considered the comparison, the easier it was to unclench his hands from the wheel. Negan might be a dangerous, unpredictable unknown, but Daryl had made a lifetime career out of putting up with his older brother's hijinks, and if he could keep that association in the forefront of his mind, he would likely find it easier to tolerate Negan. Assuming he didn't forget himself and say something beyond stupid in response to one of Negan's off-color remarks. He sent a mental thank-you to the girl he hadn't seen in more than two years but who was still giving him solid advice from somewhere deep in his subconscious.
"I said, do you have any requests?" Negan waggled the iPod in his hand. Apparently, he'd been trying to get Daryl's attention for a while.
Way to be observant, idiot. He shook his head.
"You sure? Wrong music can make for a long fucking car ride. What'll it be? Classic rock? Country? Broadway show-tunes?" Negan grinned.
Daryl snorted at the last category, "Can't imagine you'd have any of that in there."
"You'd be surprised." Thankfully for Daryl, Negan spun the music player's wheel and set it on a random mix of rock songs that were at least mildly tolerable.
"Hang a left up there," Negan pointed to a road that branched off from the highway. From the pattern of cars, it seemed the preferred path was not to take the exit overpass but rather to cut across the grassy divide and meet up with the new road on the other side of the highway. Daryl noted a fading sign marking the turn for Fredericksburg and tried to make a mental map in his mind for later use. The new road was smaller than the interstate but mostly clear of cars as it followed the river Southeast towards the coast.
"Come on, Daryl, say something! Supposed to have deep, meaningful conversations on road trips."
Get to Beth. Just play along and get to Beth. "Alright… how'd Beth end up with your people?"
"Well fuck, figures you'd ask a question I can't answer. Not 'cause I don't know, mind you. But I promised I'd let her be the one to tell you that story. But since you've brought her up, what's the deal with her and big sister Maggie?"
"Don't know what you mean," Daryl hedged. "They're sisters, what's to know?"
"A couple of nights ago, Beth came to me, very interested in my plans for you, for Aaron – "
"What do you mean, Aaron?"
"Oh, that's right! You probably missed that, being in the back of the van already… Your good buddy Aaron 'volunteered' to tag along with us as well. Think of him as kind of a goodwill ambassador of sorts. Don't go worrying, his situation is nothing like yours. But anyway, when I was sharing some details about Miss Maggie's condition, I thought I'd do something nice for Beth, offer her a pass to go visit her big sister, have a little family reunion. And do you know what that sweet blue-eyed angel did? She turned me down. Here I am telling her that her sister was practically ringing Death's doorbell, and Bethie doesn't even bat an eyelash. Now what in the holy fucking fuck is up with that?"
"What would it have cost her to say yes?"
"Nothing she hasn't paid before," Negan's grin would have made the Cheshire cat proud. "And very willingly, I might add."
Daryl bit his tongue to keep himself from asking, from giving voice to the horrible idea Negan's response implied, but he was saved from having to continue the conversation by a crackling static on the long-range radio.
"Negan, this is Simon. I have Gregory for you."
The music was shut off and Negan sat up, suddenly all seriousness. "And is it just us?"
"Yeah, boss, his office door's shut."
"Good. Gregory, do I have your full attention? Because this is important, and I need to know that you're really listening here."
"I am, and before you say anything, I just want you to know that I had NO idea what they – "Negan abruptly switched to a different channel. "Whichever one of you is closest to that stupid fucking office go in there and tell Gregory to shut the fuck up and get his fucking thumb off the speaker button before I have Simon cut it off and toss it to the first walker he finds."
He switched the channel back and was met with soft static. "Right, I should have mentioned that this is not going to be that kind of conversation. See, I stopped rolling through your gates precisely because I was fucking sick and tired of all the diarrhea of hypocritical bullshit you squirt out of your face-hole, and nothing about that has changed. No, this is the kind of conversation where you shut your fucking mouth and you fucking listen. You must think I'm some kind of goddamned moron if you actually believe that I don't know that Rick fucking Grimes only ended up on my doorstep because you sent him there. Now, I don't yet know how you knew about that particular outpost, and it really doesn't fucking matter. You and I both know that you are way too fucking smart and way too fucking good at playing politics to not see Rick Grimes for the simple-minded mad dog on a leash that he is, and you let that dog loose to shit in my back yard. And now, we both have a problem. I gotta get him back on his leash where he belongs, and you gotta clean up the shitty mess he's left behind."
He gestured for Daryl to stop the truck in the middle of the road before continuing, "It didn't have to be this way, Greg. I'm not the one who couldn't keep his end of the bargain. You fucked up, then and now. But even though it would have made things a whole lot fucking easier for me, I kept my mouth shut. You think, just for minute, about how bad shit would get for you if that mad dog of ours knew what truths I'm real fucking sure you didn't tell him before sending him my way."
"Thought you were a man of your word," Gregory took advantage of Negan releasing the speaker button.
"Is that's what you're counting on, Gregory? Is that what you think will protect you, help you keep that cushy office with your clean suit jackets and your fat belly full of food?" Negan's voice was soft, but the threat was audible, and Gregory, it seemed, had the good sense to not try to interject again.
"You've made this bed, and now you're going to lie in it," Negan declared after a moment's silence. "So when Alexandria comes to your gates asking for the food you promised, you let them in. You will give them whatever they ask for. I'll know it if you don't. This is not part of the half of your harvest that you owe us, it is in addition to your regular contribution. You don't like it, you know what you have to do to make this all go away. Until then, nothing stops."
Negan shut the radio off completely and turned to Daryl, "About a quarter mile up the road, you'll see a moving van sitting in the middle of a field. Pull up next to it, put the truck in park but do not under any circumstances shut off the engine."
"You gonna explain what that was about?" Daryl risked asking as he pulled the truck into the grass.
"Nope. And keep both hands on the wheel. These people can get a little trigger-happy."
"I can't believe you just did that! What the hell are you thinking?" Michonne hissed as Rick got Carl more comfortably situated on the couch and eased the hair back from his sleeping face. Or, more accurately, Carl's sedated face. After the family had spent some quality time entertaining Judith with a few rounds of Candyland, Rick had suggested their dinner be an indoor picnic. What he didn't tell anyone was that he was slipping some of the last of their pharmaceutical grade pain meds into Carl's lemonade. Just like when he'd been recovering from surgery after losing his eye, the drugs had him out within minutes.
"We need to have a meeting once Judy and Luke are settled in for the night," Rick said by way of explanation.
"And your thought process for that was, 'let's drug our son'?!"
Rick sighed, "If I tell him to stay away, he'll just try to eavesdrop. And I can't bring him in. Carl's a lot of great things, but a great liar isn't one of them. And with Negan so damned fascinated with him…"
"So now your plan is to sedate Carl every time we need to talk with the others?" The sarcasm practically dripped from her words.
"Of course not. I already feel like shit for this, okay? I just…" He braced himself against the kitchen island and hung his head low, "I just don't know what to do," he confessed.
Michonne gave him, and herself, a moment before she leaned sideways against the counter-top and put a comforting hand at the small of his back. "Here's a thought: try asking for help."
Rick nodded but still didn't face his wife. And since he wasn't looking, he missed the playful grin on her face. "Preferably before we turn our teenage son into an unwitting pill-popping junkie. You think his mood swings are awful now? Take it from someone who's seen it before: withdrawal's a bitch."
He didn't have to turn for her to feel his body shaking in suppressed laughter.
Daryl carefully kept his body still as the truck was surrounded. All women, all armed, and all angry. "You're late. And you brought someone." The woman pointing a spear-gun through the open passenger-side window jabbed it in the space just under Negan's chin, but he didn't flinch. "You come alone, that's the deal. No outsiders!"
"I apologize for making you wait. It was unavoidable. And I would not violate your terms if I didn't think it was important," Negan's voice was calm, every word measured. His whole demeanor was completely different from the man who had practically cackled while reducing Eugene's face to a mash of blood and bone. Was different from the straightforward, civilized man who offered cigarettes and spoke about wanting to protect his people. Was completely different from the Negan who had laughed and twirled around with Judith earlier that day. How many different versions of him are there? And how are we supposed to know which one is the real Negan?
"I'm opening a relationship with Alexandria," Negan began but was cut off.
"What's it to us?"
"Nothing." Negan was firm. "Except that I've learned some of them have a penchant for violence, and I promised to help you find the ones who attacked your people. This is one of theirs. Take a look. Anything about the name Daryl Dixon sound familiar?"
Daryl sat perfectly still as two approached from his side of the truck and one used the tip of her spear to push aside the hair falling over his face. They studied him for a moment before each shook her head. From Negan's side of the truck, Spear-gun Woman shook her head as well, "Not him. And the only name they used was yours," she sneered. "Could be others from his group, though."
Negan put up a restraining hand, "Daryl is their strongest fighter. If he wasn't there, it wasn't them. Alexandria is under my protection now."
Protection's a real funny word for it, Daryl thought derisively, but kept his face impassive.
"Alexandria doesn't need protecting from us. We're not the ones who go around raiding other people's villages."
"No, but you are looking for the raiders who killed your men. And now you know they're not at Alexandria," Negan's voice was as soft and measured as it had been throughout their conversation, but there was a weight to it now, a clear warning that the women acknowledged with a nod.
"We have what you asked for. Do you have ours?"
"Everything as promised. If you like, we can – "
"No, we'll do it ourselves. You'll stay where we can see you."
As most of the group moved to the back of the two trucks to begin swapping supplies from one to the other, Spear-gun (be nice if someone used a name or two, Daryl thought) came in closer to Negan's window. "Just because Alexandria's under your protection now doesn't mean we won't kill any one of them who trespasses our borders."
"Understood. And I would never deliberately send anyone your way. But I can't tell them not to scavenge around here without also telling them that there's a community here to get pissed off about it." Negan tipped his head to the side with a calculating stare. "Has someone crossed into your lands recently?"
"One, less than a week ago," she acknowledged, "A woman, said her name was Tara Chambler, that she was from a community that needed help fighting an enemy. Wouldn't say where her place was or what it was called. She also seemed to think you were dead."
"Well, thankfully, that's not the case," Negan quipped. "Did you kill her?"
"Not yet. Knew you were coming and figured we'd do you the courtesy of letting you see her first, verify that she wasn't one of yours, or at least wasn't important to you."
I appreciate that." Negan turned slightly to look at Daryl from the corner of his eye while the woman beckoned towards the woods. Two more emerged from the tree-line marching a bound and blind-folded figure between them. As they pulled her over to the truck, Daryl could see that it was, in fact, Tara and that, aside from a few minor scratches, she seemed to be in good shape.
At his raised eyebrows, Daryl gave a small nod of acknowledgement.
"Do you ladies mind if I have a word with her?"
"She's not deaf. Talk."
Negan smiled and waited a few beats until one of the guards scowled and pulled the blindfold from Tara's eyes.
Tara squinted against the late afternoon sun but turned her attention to Negan when he addressed her, "You're a long way from home, Ms. Chambler."
"Who are you?" Daryl could see her shifting to get a better look at him before he remembered Negan's rules and dropped his gaze to the steering wheel.
"I'll give you a hint: I'm not dead."
Daryl heard her sharp intake of breath and saw Negan shift forward to lean out the window. "If they let you live, I strongly suggest you get yourself straight back to the safe zone. A lot has changed in the time you've been away."
"What did you do?" she snarled.
But Negan didn't bother to answer her, instead turning his attention to the woman who seemed to be the leader of this harsh, all-female group, "I would never presume to tell you what to do with your prisoner, but if I may make a suggestion? If you let her live and send her back to her people, she can carry a message of warning from both of us. Your community and the lands surrounding it are strictly off-limits to Alexandria. Not only will you freely kill any one of them that ever crosses your borders, but I will consider it a direct violation of our agreement, and there will be consequences." He leveled a harsh glare at Tara.
While the women stepped back and circled around for a quick discussion, Tara stepped forward. Her hands were still bound behind her back, but that didn't stop her from leaning in. "What did you do?" she repeated. "Daryl?" she tried to get his attention, but he'd come too far to blow it now. Frustrated, she turned her gaze back to Negan and stared him down, "Why is Daryl with you? What have you done?"
"Your friends back home can explain it to you. But the fact that Daryl is here ought to be a big fucking clue as to what I am capable of, what I can still do to you and yours if you don't fall in line like the rest of them."
The leader returned. "We'll let this one go in the morning. But anyone else who trespasses gets shot on sight. We won't care where they're from." The others jerked Tara back and retied the blindfold over her face before forcing her back towards the trees. Daryl's only physical reaction was to flex his fingers against the steering wheel.
"Agreed." Negan reached with slow, deliberate movement for the notepad he'd tossed on the truck's dash as they had pulled in and yanked a page from the front. "What would these be worth to you?"
She took the paper and flashed it to the others. Unspoken conversations flashed through the women's eyes before the leader turned back and reached out her hand. Negan wordlessly handed her a pen and watched her scribble a few lines before tearing off the bottom portion and handing it back to Negan, who quickly scanned the list and nodded in agreement.
"One month," she set the timeline for their next meeting, "And no more surprise guests."
Eric took quick steps down the staircase and back to the living room, where Rick, Michonne, Sasha, Tyrese, Abraham, Glenn, and Olivia were waiting, perched on whatever chairs they could find after the couch filled up. "We've probably got an hour, two at the most before the nightmares start."
"That bad?" Michonne inquired with concern.
"I'm hoping with Judy here that he'll stay in his bed tonight, but, yeah… it's been rough. And honestly, I don't know if this," he held up the notebook with Aaron's letter, "is going to help or hurt in the long run. It was all I could do pry it away from him just now."
Luke had gleefully shared his news about his Papa writing to him to each person as they had come over for dinner so, thankfully, Eric was saved having to recount the day's events.
"Before you share that," Rick began, "we all need to understand that nothing we say here can leave this room. We need Negan to believe that he's won, and the more people who are involved in this, the greater the risk. That's why, tomorrow, I'm going to sit Carl down and tell him that we have to accept the Saviors' rule."
"Jesus, Rick, Abe and I just finished telling him that you're not giving up and that you've got a plan," Tyrese broke in.
"I know, and I'm grateful that you got him focused so we could get through today. But Carl has no poker face, and Negan has taken too much notice of him already."
"Well, you're not wrong there," Sasha acknowledged.
"When the time comes to fight back, I know Carl will be right there with us. But for now," Rick looked to Michonne, who nodded in solidarity, "protecting him is protecting the group."
"Fine, but just because he believes we're dragging our asses doesn't mean we can actually afford to drag our asses. No matter what I said to your kid today, the longer we wait, the harder it will be to get rid of this fucker," Abraham warned.
Eric interjected, "Then this is a place to start." He held up the notebook.
After he finished reading Aaron's letter, the group began sharing their observations.
"At least he isn't locked up or being hurt," Olivia noted.
"And it is a big building," Glenn remarked. "We guessed that right. No mention of Maggie or Daryl, though. You think they're both being held somewhere else? Or are they there and Aaron hasn't been able to find them?"
"Daryl is there, Maggie is not, but Aaron's gotten word that she's okay and he trusts the source," Eric confirmed. At everyone's silent stares, Eric got a little cheeky, "Oh, you didn't hear me read that part? Good. Let's hope that means Negan didn't see it, either."
"Feel free to start making sense anytime now," Michonne deadpanned.
"Before y'all came along and Daryl started joining us, Aaron and I were the only people who went out looking for folks to bring into the safe zone. But just because we found someone didn't always mean they were the sort of people we wanted in our community. Sometimes we could tell before ever meeting them. Sometimes, we'd think they seemed alright until we got to talking with them. We needed a way of talking in front of them without talking to them."
"You have a code," Tyrese realized. "You have a code, and he's using it."
Eric nodded and laid the notebook open on the coffee table. "It looks like he just spewed out on the page whatever came to mind. But these pen marks here are where he kept pausing, collecting his thoughts, figuring out exactly what words to use. And it sounds like a letter to a six-year-old. And it is, mostly. But if you know what to look for, there are some interesting bits of information sprinkled in as well."
Everybody leaned in as Eric gestured to the appropriate lines, "It's a multi-story building, but Aaron only has access to the ground level and first floor. Daryl is being held there, but Aaron hasn't been able to explore beyond the areas he's allowed to be in, so he doesn't know exactly where. And Maggie is somewhere else entirely, but if he knows where, he isn't saying so here, only that she's alive and that, whatever was wrong with her, she's recovering."
"Ovarian cysts," Rick interjected. He pulled out the note that Negan had left for him earlier and laid it on the table as well. "I don't know what they are or what they do to a pregnant woman, but that's the clue he gave."
"Isn't a cyst like a blister that grows inside you?" Olivia posited. "And if the inside of it is liquid, it goes away on its own, but if it's solid, it could be cancer?"
"Woah! That's a big freakin' leap between 'it'll go away on its own' to 'your wife may have cancer on her… lady… whatevers."
Sasha mock-glared at Glenn, "Ovaries, Glenn. Every woman has them. You grew up with sisters, for crying out loud! And you and Maggie are clearly sexually active. Ovaries, ovaries, ovaries!" she snickered has the blush in Glenn's face spread to the tips of his ears.
The laughter was exactly what they needed, a release of tension after everything that had happened.
As the group recovered from their mirth, it was Michonne who pointed out, "We should probably research this in an actual book instead of taking random guesses. We could start with Denise's medical textbooks."
"I'm thinking we ask an expert. Make a trip to Hilltop first thing tomorrow and ask Dr. Carson."
Glenn nodded in gratitude at Rick's suggestion. "Thanks, man. I know I've been an ass the past few days and that we've gotta think big picture, but – "
"She's family." Rick cut him off. It was all the explanation anyone in the room needed.
"Just finding the Sanctuary isn't going to be enough," Eric warned. "Aaron's not specific, but the size of the group he's hinting at here is a lot bigger than we are. Beyond that, he focuses the rest of his attention on certain people, and we've got good news and bad news there."
"You're the expert," Tyrese encouraged, "Take us to school."
"When it came to decided whether we trusted someone, the key to the code is in the other names we used. You might remember us talking when we first found y'all out on the road, sharing stories about the people you'd meet once you got here."
"Vaguely," Rick admitted. "We weren't exactly at our best."
"Don't worry," Eric revealed, "Most of them weren't real, anyway. Aaron and I would make up stories, people even, to tell each other what we thought of the group we were leading in. The key's in the names, and it's a scale of trustworthiness. In general, if we used a name that started with a vowel, we liked them, a consonant if we didn't. If we used real names from Alexandria, we trusted at least something about them, although we could still use a name beginning with a consonant if we were willing to bring them in, but didn't exactly plan on making friends afterwards. When we found you, for instance, I told you that you'd meet our community's leader when you got there and went on and on about how much I thought you'd all get along, but I didn't use her name. I did say she had two sons, that her oldest, Aiden, had been studying law. Aaron's take-away from that is that I not only trust you enough to bring you in, but I like you as well. If I hadn't, I would have mentioned Spencer's name instead of Aiden's."
"Real member of the community but his name starts with a consonant – you don't think we're serial killers but you're not planning on inviting us over for dinner just in case," Glenn followed his line of logic.
"Right. So there's that scale, and then there were certain names that were very specific messages. And Aaron's using them here," Eric flipped to the second page of the letter. "He describes this doctor lady he met on the first day as a cross between 'Ouiser and Olympia Dukakis' character in Steel Magnolia's'. The way the two brothers who brought the journal to me bicker back and forth reminds Aaron of his cousins Matt and Kori. And there's three other names on the page: Negan, Clyde, and Savannah. There's no specific cue with Savannah, other than that she's Negan's wife. And associating Negan with Clyde means that Aaron really, really doesn't like this guy."
"Well, no shit, Sherlock! Aaron seriously wasted time and ink to tell us that!" Abraham huffed.
"No, this goes beyond anything you're thinking. Aaron was out there with you, he saw what you saw. And he's going out of his way to tell us that there's something beyond what we already know that freaks him out. Look, you see the pen swipe through the paragraph? Looks like an accident, something someone in a rush would do. Except Aaron never does this; I do. Curse of being left-handed – I smear the ink with the side of my hand, sometimes the pen catches on the page when I'm moving to start a new line. Drives Aaron nuts, he's always wanting me to be more careful. It's a couples' quirk, I guess. For Aaron to make this and to make it exactly this way, he had to turn the notebook upside down."
Eric took a breath before launching his conclusions, "I think Aaron's drawing battle lines. There's a division within the Saviors. Maybe just a small one. But it's no accident that, on one side of this line, you have Negan with the code name – which I'm getting to – and on the other, you have the doctor and the two brothers. And the line goes directly through Savannah's name, and I think that's deliberate, too. She's literally straddling the line, like Aaron's on the fence about her, or maybe she's on the fence about Negan. But these code names he's using are specific and personal, we hardly ever used them with anyone else. Steel Magnolias is our favorite movie. We've seen it, like, 5000 times. We can quote every line. There are multiple copies of it in this house and hard copies of the script in both our emergency bags. Not only did he pull two names with vowels to describe this doctor, but both are callbacks to that film. Aaron beyond trusts her. She's done something that makes him believe that, if it came down to it, she'd be in his corner. And it's the same with Connor and Murphy. Matt and Kori might be names that start with consonants, but they're a special case. When Aaron came out to his family, there were a lot of… let's just say not everyone was thrilled. Old world traditions combined with a Southern upbringing and the conservative values that tend to come with… Kori was the kind of cousin you only see at family reunions, and Matt was her newly-wed husband. Aaron had no real expectations from them; they just happened to be at the holiday gathering when he told the rest of the family. But they didn't just accept him, they embraced him. They opened their home to him, helped him find jobs near them so he had an excuse not to go home between semesters in college. They went with him to his first gay bar so he'd have a wing-man. The most difficult time of his life, these were the people who had Aaron's back. He could have used any names. These names are a sign – he's not just making friends, he's building alliances."
"And Clyde? What's up with that?"
"Any of you have that one relative that was just this side of 'not right'? Made people uncomfortable, stared a little too long, hands on shoulders when you didn't really want them there, jokes that weren't appropriate, weren't really jokes at all. Especially around the women, or the kids? Nothing anyone could prove, but everyone just… knew. That's who Uncle Clyde was to Aaron. And just like the others, he wouldn't use that name without a reason. There's something about Negan that creeps him out, more than just being the leader of the Saviors, more than being the one who killed Eugene, more than the one who's holding him prisoner. Something about Negan that makes Aaron's skin crawl."
"You must have questions." Negan prompted as they headed back the way they came with the sun dipping low on the horizon. Negan offered another hand-rolled cigarette.
Seriously… Daryl breathed deeply. Of course he had questions, thousands of them, and almost none of them were ones he wanted to ask the man fiddling with the iPod next to him. Fine, guess we're back to pretending to be buddies, Daryl grumbled internally and tried to think of what might not be the most obvious way to go about getting information. "Would you have turned me over to those women if they'd thought they recognized me?"
"Without hesitation. And then would have offered my services bringing down Alexandria's walls so they could finish the job. But I knew it wasn't you they were looking for… well, I was 95% certain it wasn't you." He grinned.
Daryl ignored the verbal jab. He cusses a lot less when he's not trying to show off. "What're they asking for from ya?"
Negan kept his eyes on the notebook he had balanced on his knee as he scribbled absently, "Nothing new, really. Some lengths of chain to reinforce their nets. Arrowheads and spear tips, which we can forge. Fresh produce. They're set up on the coast, hard to grow a lot of things in sand. But they bring in more fish than they knew what to do with before we started trading. Truth be told I don't really need them, but a little smoked sea bass is nice to have now and again."
"And their men?"
"That little bedtime story would be the real reason for our little expedition." He closed the notebook with an audible snap and tucked it away before settling back in the truck's bench seat. "After the first winter, we started branching out, looking for other survivors. Found quite a few little pockets of humanity left over. Some more useful than others. Wasn't until end of summer when we came across Briar's Creek. Small group, 40, 45 at the most. We watched them for a couple of days. Not every group that banded together did so out of the goodness of their hearts. But they seemed on the up and up, so we made plans to reach out. Maybe bring them into the Sanctuary, or start up a trade if they wanted to stay put. Maybe all it'd be was letting each other know that someone else out there had made it. But then my baby boy got sick, real sick. Well, not technically mine, but I'd married his mother, so… Didn't have a doctor back then. Even if we had, no way I was leaving his side with the fever as high as it was. Few days later, we knew he'd pull through, but Claire, his mother, she was still freaked out. Gotta keep the wife happy, am I right? So, Simon and a few others went in my place. But when they got there, all they found were burnt out buildings and mutilated corpses."
He flicked the end of the cigarette out the window and popped the glove compartment. The plastic bag inside had several homemade granola bars. Negan broke one and offered half to Daryl, "Eat, you look like shit."
"'Course, Simon called it in and I rode down to see for myself. The men, all the bodies were only the men. Fighters. Old men. Boys. Even a baby. All murdered by someone living. But the women were all gone. Took me several months of solo trips to find that little seaside village, put two and two together. Even more weeks of negotiations before they finally told me what had happened. The group who'd attacked in the night, butchered all their men. Raped the women and some of the girls. Told them, from then on, they'd be making regular trips and that, if they didn't want to lose more people, they'd have something interesting to offer them each time they came around. Next morning, after the bastards had left, the women packed up what they could carry and lit on out of there. Set fire to everything they couldn't take with them as a final 'fuck you' to whoever came back."
"Woman with the spear gun said it was your name they used, the only one they heard that night."
"Quite the conundrum, isn't it? Take that left up ahead." Negan stretched. "When we get back, you will not mention where we went or who we saw. To anyone. Not even Beth."
"What, don't trust your own people?" Daryl was pushing it, he knew. But if there were fighting within the Saviors' numbers, that was an advantage worth knowing.
"I trust them with my life," was Negan's quiet reply. But not with this information, Daryl inferred.
"If you don't want me telling anyone about them, why bring me here at all?"
"Had to make certain it wasn't you and yours who killed off all their people, didn't I?"
"Nah…" Daryl decided to call him out. "You already said that you were sure it wasn't us. Earliest Beth could have gotten to your group was two years ago, so you already know we weren't even in Virginia when this Briar's Creek was hit. Why did you really bring me out here?"
"Why indeed…" was Negan's only response.
They rode on in relative silence for about ten minutes before Negan told him to slow down as they approached a relatively clean house on the side of the road. As they eased past, Negan waved to the two armed men sitting on the porch.
"East-side check point, we're nearly home. Which means you've just about made it through your day. And you did well. Better than I expected." They paused at the gate until a Savior on watch opened it so they could pull through to the garage and park. Daryl shut off the engine and waited for instruction. So close.
"Which is why I have another offer for you."
God dammit. Daryl'd had enough of this little field trip. Sunshine and fresh air be damned, he just wanted to go back to his cell because that's where he'd see Beth. But Negan seemed incapable of running out of things to say. It grated on Daryl's last nerve.
"I already said I wasn't joinin' you. I'll do what I gotta for Beth. Ain't gonna run, or fight, or do anything like that. I'll stay in that damned box and let you use me against Rick, but I ain't gonna kneel. I ain't Negan."
"And I respect that," Negan acknowledged after rolling up the window to give them some privacy. "I really do. If you had dropped to your knees this morning, declared yourself fully on board, 'Team Negan', I would have accepted it because that was the option I gave you. But I wouldn't have trusted it."
"So it was all just another test," Daryl surmised.
"Just is such a dangerous word. Nothing is just anything anymore. But yes, I was testing you. A lot of men in your position would have chosen the more comfortable way. It'd be self-preservation, really, if you've fully accepted that you're never leaving this place alive. But you're a man of honor, principle. You've got your code and you stick with it even when, and maybe especially when, it's not the easy way. If it makes you feel better, you did exactly what Beth said you would. My fault for not believing her, I suppose. After all, I am intimately acquainted with how well she can read people, really know them deep down inside."
Don't react. Don't give him that. "If you know I'm not gonna change my mind, why bother with another offer?"
"This offer is different from yesterday's. I'm not offering to let you join us as a full-fledged member of our community. That would be an insult to your honor, and I just got done telling you how much I respect you. No, you are a prisoner, and you will serve out your time for your crimes against my people. This offer is about what that prison sentence looks like. Yesterday, I told you that your only options were total betrayal of Rick, or solitary confinement. You chose the box. Honorable. Done."
Negan turned sideways in the seat to fully face Daryl. "This is not a test of your character. Either way you choose, my people get the satisfaction of knowing that you and all the others are paying for what you did at that outpost. But after watching you today, both when I had you trailing after me like a like a sad little puppy and when I had you doing the heavy lifting… You seem like the kind of guy who would rather be busy than be bored. So here's your choice: You want to stay in the box, stay in the box. It'll be just like I told you, nothing but you and your thoughts, aside from your daily chats with Beth. Or, you work. Grunt work, the shit jobs no one else really wants. It'll be like Alexandria – no talking, no interaction, just you doing as you're told. But, it gets you out of that cell, at least during the day. And you still get to see that sweet little lady every night. Totally up to you, purely a matter of preference. So, what'll it be?"
"I'll work." It was an easy choice. He wasn't afraid of hard labor or getting his hands dirty, and any time he had outside that cell was a chance to learn the layout, find the Sanctuary's weak spots. Besides, Daryl knew firsthand how dangerous it was for him to be alone with his thoughts for too long.
"Alrighty then. Congratulations, Daryl, you made it through the day."
Aaron was not expecting to see Negan standing on the other side of his door but covered his surprise as best he could and invited him in all the same. While he'd seen him at a distance, this was the first time Aaron had directly interacted with the man since that night on the road. But the leader casually glancing around the room bore little resemblance to the leather-clad monster who had murdered Eugene and terrorized the rest of their friends. Sporting a white t-shirt whose short sleeves revealed a couple of older tattoos and a comfortably-fitting pair of jeans, Negan could have been any one of a number of average men. Even the ever-present Lucille was left leaning against the door frame, mostly out of sight. But definitely not out of mind.
"Doc says you seem to be settling in alright, but I wanted to check in with you myself," he explained as he made himself at home on Aaron's couch.
"Yes, thank you, everyone has been very kind." Aaron sat on the other end of the cushion and tried to keep his outward appearance calm and casual.
"Good. I realize, of course, that this situation is far from ideal for you, but I'm not interested in making your time here, however long or short it may be, unnecessarily unpleasant."
Aaron nodded, not knowing exactly what to say in response.
"I assume by now you know we made our first contribution run to Alexandria today," Negan continued. "Your boyfriend went out of his way to thank me personally for allowing you to keep in touch. I appreciate that, his level of respect, courtesy. It's the kind of thing that can go a long way to finding a kind of peace between our communities."
Aaron nodded again. Diplomacy. Build a relationship. "I want to thank you as well, just wasn't sure when I'd have the chance. I know that things could be a lot worse for me, for my family, for all of us, and you'd be well within your rights after what we did… How we treat our enemies says a lot more about us than how we treat our friends."
Negan looked mildly impressed, "Yes, it does."
Aaron continued, "'Finding a kind of peace'… is that what you see for Alexandria and the Sanctuary?"
"Down the road, eventually. We've got a lot of shit to slog through first, gonna be a long, hard journey."
"Is that why I'm here?"
"It is. Do you know why I waited a good two months after you hit that outpost before coming after you people?" At Aaron's negative head-shake, Negan answered his own question, "Because I was not going to make the same mistake that you did. You lashed out at what you didn't understand, attacked not only without provocation, but without taking the time to properly find out just what in the fucking fuck you were getting yourselves into."
Negan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and leveling his intense stare at Aaron. "I'm not going to do that. I didn't build all this by jumping in, half-assed, no fucking clue what kind of shit-storm I'm diving into. So I watched. It's not like I didn't know where you were – my trackers had no trouble at all following your trail. You think that one little scouting party that unfortunately, cost your community it's resident physician," and he dropped his head in what seemed to be genuine remorse for a moment before meeting Aaron's eyes again, "was the only time we tried to get a peek behind the curtain? We studied you for weeks – your trips to Hilltop, your little supply runs and scouting expeditions… Do you have any fucking idea how many holes there are in your town's security net? I could level that entire safe zone in an hour if I wanted to."
He sat back, relaxed against the couch cushions. "But I don't. In fact, it's pretty much the opposite of what I want. Because, what I also saw while watching your people, was a lot of potential. Good people. Useful people. Might have to thin the herd a bit, clear out some dead weight, some potential troublemakers. But on the whole, a lot of fucking good shit could be salvaged from this mess your people made. And you are a key part of pulling all this together. I didn't just snatch you up at random, no, I picked you for a reason."
Aaron sighed as he tried to process everything Negan was saying, and implying, "And if I don't help you, I lose my family?"
"Nope, no that's not what I meant at all. I'm not here to force you to tell me anything or make you turn against your own. I don't need you to do anything you haven't already been willingly doing these last several days. You're not here for your people, Aaron. You're here for mine."
"I… I don't understand."
"From what I can gather, you people thought you were taking out some kind of military installation. Don't quite know what gave you that notion… working on it, though," he quipped with a grin before turning serious again.
"Unfortunately, you were wrong. That satellite compound was going to be our next farming venture. And the people you killed… they were an advance team: carpenters, engineers, electricians, and yeah, some security. But mostly just regular people trying to get by. That's a big honking satellite dish on top of that building, had to make sure the roof wouldn't cave in on us. Get irrigation lines set. Soil's good, we checked. And a lot of open field space, good for corn, other grains maybe. A lot easier to do the prep work in the fall and winter, get families moved in first of spring and go right into the planting season. That's what you people slaughtered that night. And all those good skilled workers? They had families. Friends. People who are pissed. People who are out for blood. A leader is only as good as the loyalty he commands. So how do I convince all those angry, grieving, vengeful loved ones not to burn your shit to the ground?"
Negan smiled and opened his hands, gesturing to Aaron, "I show them you. Friendly, approachable, a family man. Sympathetic. Someone who can follow the rules, wants to do some good in the world. They're not going to want to kill that. They're going to want to give that a chance. So you see, we want the same thing, you and I. You want to protect your people. I want to not have to kill them. Win-win. And all you have to do is just keep doing what you've been doing. Be yourself."
He stood up and walked over to the small table that served both as a dining area and a desk and tapped his fingers on the open pages of Aaron's notebook. "So I'm happy to let you keep writing to your son. It makes you happy, makes your life here a little easier to bear, and I'm cool with that. We just need to be clear: you are writing to your son, only to your son. I understand that your boyfriend will be reading your letters, too, and that's fine. Family bonding and all that. But there should be nothing in these pages that wouldn't be of direct interest to a six- or seven-year-old. We clear?"
Aaron nodded, "I understand. I'm not going to do anything that would make you want to take this away from me. Just – please, is there any… Will I ever see my family again?"
"That depends on how good you are at your job."
An answer, but not an answer.
"One more thing: there is a very specific piece of information that needs to be left out of your letters. And so I need to know right now if you've already fucked up. The Doc, did you mention her at all? Specifically, her name?"
Aaron's stomach was already in knots and now clenched up with fresh fear, "I did mention meeting her," he admitted, "but just how kind she was when I first arrived. I never used her name, I swear… actually, I don't even know it," he realized. "But I didn't know before not to say anything about her and I promise you I won't – "
Negan put his hand up to stop Aaron mid-sentence. "You didn't know. So we're good. But now you do. So you won't. A brief mention in passing, a cutesy little 'hey, my kid might find this funny' kind of story, fine. But you will Never. Mention. Her. Name. Beth, by the way, her name is Beth."
"I'll never mention her name," Aaron vowed. Why would anyone in Alexandria care about… "Wait, Beth – Daryl's Beth?!"
Negan smirked.
Aaron's mind whirled. Of all the…this changes everything. "Does Daryl know?"
Negan checked his watch, "I'd say he's finding out right about now."
He'd done everything they'd asked. He'd passed the stupid tests, followed the stupid rules. He'd even turned his back on his brother. So where the fuck is Beth?
He never heard her footsteps, but he could suddenly hear her voice muffled through the door.
"I'm sure everyone feels safer for you standin' guard, but Negan promised this'd be a private conversation."
"I'm not leaving while that door's unlocked." Fucking Dwight.
"Then one of us has got it wrong, because I was sure Daryl and I would get to talk without anyone else around. So I'm going to go get Negan and ask him to come down here, and he can explain it to the both of us."
Daryl was full-on smirking as he pulled himself to his feet inside the cell. Whatever else might have happened, it seemed Beth hadn't lost one ounce of her fiery determination. Don't even bother; ain't nobody gonna win an argument against her once she gets riled up. Dwight, it seemed, had realized that as well; Daryl could hear him stomping away.
And then she was there. Cell door opened and shut again and her arms wrapped around him before he could blink. "Hi, Daryl," she half-whispered against his chest.
He wasn't sure when he started hugging her back, only knew that he was; his nose nuzzled her head, breathing her in, her hair soaking up his tears and stray wisps tickling his forehead as he pulled her in even more tightly.
She smelled the same – a different soap and some herbs he didn't care enough about to identify, but the same Beth scent he remembered from the many 'serious' piggy back rides or from sitting side by side, backs to a single tree as they took turns keeping watch while the other slept. But his hands could feel slight differences in her body. She'd put on a bit of weight, her arms no longer thin and bony but with a healthy muscle tone as they squeezed his sides. Even through the sheepskin vest she wore over her knit shirt (always did run cold), he could tell that he'd no longer be able to feel the dimples between every rib. Eating regular meals at least. Other changes, too, ones he couldn't quite put his finger on and really, did it matter? She was here.
"I'm sorry," he whispered tearfully into her hair.
"I'm sorry, too," she whispered back. "What are you sorry for?"
"For not findin' you," he'd thought that much was obvious.
"You didn't leave me behind. You looked for me." There was no question, no doubt. Just a simple statement of fact, and it did more for Daryl than he could have imagined. "And when there was nothin' left to track, you did what you had to. You didn't give up, didn't move on, just… forward."
He didn't know what to say to that and wasn't sure he could talk much through his quiet, broken sobbing anyway.
"I tried to find you, too," she revealed. "After I got away… Knew you were out there. Never doubted that. But I couldn't… So I did what I had to. Moved forward. You mad at me?"
The hell could she think that? He made a scoffing sound, finally finding his voice again. "You stayed alive. All on your own and you…" he trailed off.
"I wasn't alone. Had you in my head the whole time, Mr. Dixon," she teased gently, "keeping me going, makin' sure I didn't forget all my huntin' and trackin' lessons. Wouldn't have made it without ya. I'm not mad at you, Daryl. Never was. You got nothin' to be sorry for."
Just like that, she was absolving him of all guilt, but he knew it would be a long time before he was ready to forgive himself. He had too many unanswered questions, too many what if?'s, but he couldn't get his thoughts to stop chaotically swirling long enough to think of what to ask first. A thousand nightmares and worries and fears held inside for eight-hundred and… how many days? Suddenly, of all his many questions, that was the one thing he could latch onto. "What day is it?"
Beth gave a slight giggle from where she was still (safely) tucked against his chest, "Thursday. March 12th if that's what you're really wantin' to know."
830 days exactly. That's how long it had taken him to find the girl who had gone from being just another mouth to feed to his… well, he didn't know exactly what to call her. Everyone in their core group from Georgia fell under the general umbrella of 'family'. Above and beyond that, Rick was his brother, Carol and Aaron (and Eric, to only a slightly lesser extent) were his friends, Judith was his Lil' Asskicker, and Beth was… he didn't have a label for it. Didn't need one, really. What mattered was that, no matter what it took, there was never going to be an 831st day where he didn't know where to find her.
Oh, still so many questions to answer, so many mysteries to solve… All reviews are greatly appreciated!