SO grateful for the feedback, especially for the last chapter! I love being able to chat with you all about what you like, don't like, or have questions about, so please keep those reviews coming! And yes, for those who care about such things, the medical stuff coming up in this chapter is real and credibly researched, just like all the info in earlier chapters on why Alexandria's crops failed. Because if we're going to do fanfiction, we're going to do it right! And here we go...
Chapter 8: Tightrope, Part I
Aaron really needed to get his head on straight. He felt like he'd spent half the night just trying to wrap his head around everything that Negan had said to him and the other half trying to figure out what to do about it.
On one hand, his family was the most important thing in the world to him. Being able to write home and knowing they would be writing back was his only lifeline in this place. And Negan had been very clear, anything in the journals that he felt didn't belong and that lifeline would be cut. And Aaron couldn't tell if his warning was a preemptive strike – meaning that either Negan hadn't read his first letter or hadn't understood the coded messages Aaron had left for his family. The fact that Negan had asked whether or not Aaron had included anything about the Doc seemed to support this theory.
But Aaron was enough of a wordsmith to recognize the same gift of gab in his enemy. Negan's ability to weave creative conversation went beyond dangerously playful inflection or adolescent puns. The man knew how to use words, how to choose them carefully and speak in layers that kept others off-balance. Asking about the Doc could have been a ploy, and Negan's warning may have been more of an acknowledgement that he already knew what Aaron had done the first time around, making any future letters all the riskier for the increased scrutiny.
And then there was the Doc herself and the revelation that came with; that blow had completely blindsided Aaron. He could only imagine what it had done to Daryl, but at least he now understood exactly what had motivated his friend's surrender on the road.
Beth Greene wasn't a name heard in Alexandria. If Aaron hadn't gone out of his way to befriend Daryl, he doubted that Negan's caveat of not mentioning her in his letters would have carried any significance to him.
Daryl had definitely stood out from the rest of the group of stragglers, even from their first encounter. Aaron had instantly felt an empathy with the loner who seemed to be in his own state of self-imposed exile. What had started out as offers for dinners to avoid the larger community gatherings eventually resulted in an invitation to move in, although Aaron wasn't sure he could call what Daryl had done 'moving in', exactly. Daryl kept his few belongings in their home's third bedroom but only slept indoors on rare occasions when the weather was bad enough to warrant it. To Aaron (and any reasonably sane person), rain or freezing temperatures ought to be enough to bring a man indoors for the night. For Daryl, anything less than a category 2 hurricane or golf-ball-sized hail wasn't grounds for him leaving his preferred spot under the oak tree in their back yard. Assuming he slept at all; there were many nights where Aaron would wake up for a bathroom break or drink of water and find Daryl tinkering in the garage or see the dim light of a lit cigarette glowing from under the oak branches, Daryl's face closed off and eyes distant.
The first and only time Aaron had heard the name Beth Greene was from Daryl, a little less than a year after the group had settled in Alexandria. Aaron had been on his way back from checking on Luke in the night when he heard something he couldn't identify coming from the back yard. Afraid that the dead had somehow found a way into the safe zone, Aaron had nearly tripped himself rushing downstairs to warn his friend. But the sounds he'd heard were Daryl's harsh, broken sobs from where he lay curled in on himself on their side porch, and empty glass bottle of liquor on its side next to him. Aaron had never seen him show much emotion at all, but it seemed that everything Daryl had ever bottled up was now spilling out in droves. Aaron had sat on the porch next to him, careful not to touch the hunter (Eric, who was a big hugger, had made that mistake early on in their friendship). He wasn't sure how long he waited with his legs outstretched on the wood planks of the attached porch in silent support before Daryl finally acknowledged his presence with a quiet, "Ya ain't gotta stay."
"I don't mind," had been his honest reply.
"'s my fault. I lost her. Year ago t'night."
"Tell me."
And he had. Aaron wasn't sure which of them was more surprised as Daryl opened up about the blonde-haired girl with big blue eyes and an even bigger smile for everyone she met who sang everything from Christian music she'd grown up with in the church choir to Tom Waits' experimental jazz. The eternal optimist who accepted Daryl with all his emotional baggage and refused to let him give in to his past or his grief, who left thank-you notes to strangers and could find beauty in the ugliest places. How Daryl's one thoughtless mistake had cost him his best friend and her, in all likelihood, her life. How he'd tried to do what she said, to put the painful things away, but he couldn't stop keeping count of each night that she wasn't where he could keep her safe.
He'd wanted to say something that would help Daryl feel better, find some peace. But he'd known that Daryl was in no place to hear it, that if he had opened his mouth, whatever words came out would only end up being a barrier to their friendship. So Aaron had sat there in silence, letting Daryl share what he chose and keep the rest to himself. The next day, Daryl went about his business as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred the night before. And Beth's name never came up again. But Aaron had kept a mental note of the date, and, when the second anniversary of her disappearance had rolled around, he'd offered a full bottle of whiskey and his silent support for that night's watch.
Aaron hadn't judged. It was probably the main reason Daryl had been willing to build a close relationship with him. Daryl judged himself enough for the both of them and, from what little Aaron had gleaned about this woman he'd never met, Aaron was probably the closest Daryl could find in at least that character trait to the friend he'd lost along the way.
Not judging was Aaron's preferred modus operandi. He'd been judged enough in his own life and very little good had ever come of it. But now he had to judge, had to weigh out his options and choose a path and there would likely be few, if any, opportunities to turn back once he made up his mind. And it all came down to the words he scrawled on the pages of his journal each night. The coded messages in his first missive were harmless enough even if Negan did figure them out. But basics like that weren't going to help Alexandria come to the rescue (if it were even possible), much less win an all-out war against the Saviors. But getting caught might cost Aaron access to his family, possibly for the rest of his or their lives. Better to play it safe, maybe, with the letters home, to keep playing the part of the model prisoner and earn his ticket home, where he'd be able to share everything he observed openly and help them win. Unless Negan never sent him home. In which case these letters were all he had, and that made them all the more priceless. Aaron knew if he didn't have his family, he'd be hard-pressed to find a reason to keep fighting.
If he played along and did everything he could to keep his connection to his family alive and safe, then Negan won. He'd said as much last night; Aaron was already doing exactly what Negan had predicted he'd do, what he wanted him to do. And was Negan winning the worst thing in the world? If Aaron convinced everyone in the Sanctuary that Alexandria wasn't the enemy, Negan had promised that no one else would have to die. If he passed information to Rick and the others, more casualties were an almost certainty. And who's to say that they'd win in the end? Negan definitely had the numbers and, according to him, had already done enough reconnaissance on the safe zone to learn all its vulnerabilities. Aaron's good intentions by sending inside information could end up leading to Alexandria's destruction. But if the rest of their lives were going to be nothing but a slow starvation as they scrounged up enough goods to satisfy Negan's demands, then what was the point?
Aaron felt like he was balancing on the edge of giant blade, and no matter which way he fell, he was going to get cut. His only hope was to not make too many others bleed with him.
"You might have warned us," Rick didn't bother with small talk as he and several others from Alexandria strode into Gregory's office. Jesus slipped in quietly behind the group and stood off to the side.
"I did warn you." Gregory stayed in the cushioned leather chair behind his oversized desk, his preferred position of power. "Do you think we willingly give up half our harvest? That we're thrilled to open our gates and let the Saviors sift through our things each week?"
"You said that Negan would be at that outpost, that taking him out was the key to bringing down the Saviors. He had nearly double the number of soldiers with him on the road than had been at the satellite relay." Rick wasn't budging. Behind him, Michonne and Rosita bore matching scowls. Sasha and Glenn had traveled with them as well, with Rick appointing Abraham and Tyrese to stay behind and supervise the beginnings of the necessary inventory overhaul, but Rick had told Glenn to seek out the Hilltop's doctor as soon as they arrived, both in case the conversation with Gregory devolved and because the worried man had waited about as long as he could stand it to learn more about his wife's possible condition. And as Glenn hadn't been there when Maggie first collapsed, Sasha was needed to help explain her symptoms and perhaps get a better idea of what Maggie, and they all, were dealing with.
"You're not going to put this on me, Richard," Gregory let a bit of sarcasm slip briefly before pulling his tone of voice back closer to a sense of calm. "When you came to me begging for help, I told you what we were up against. I warned you then that I didn't think Negan could be beaten. But you were so cock-sure, so determined and I thought, hey, why not take a chance? I told you he might be at that outpost, told you what kind of numbers had showed up here. I gave you every bit of information that I was certain of. And even when you didn't deliver on your end, I gave you, from our own meager stores, enough food to get you through the winter."
"We all thought Negan was dead, that we'd gotten him at the satellite outpost," Rosita pointed out.
"Yes, we all thought Negan was dead, but that didn't stop Simon from coming each week for his tribute! And where were you? Hiding behind your walls for weeks while we kept having to shell out." Gregory stood and moved around his desk to confront the group. "Is that the kind of people I'm dealing with? You say you're going to help us but what you really mean is you're going to help yourselves. A token show of force and then you back off – you were supposed to finish off the Saviors, all of the Saviors, not poke the hornet's nest and then run away like a scared little girl! What do you think happened after he corralled your group? I've been dealing with the fall-out of your failure ever since. You come here acting like I'm the bad guy, like I'm the source of all your troubles. Do you have any idea what I've had to do to keep him pacified so I can protect my people?"
Jesus clarified from his spot on the sidelines as he leaned semi-casually against the bookshelf, "Yesterday afternoon, a convoy of Saviors came in unexpectedly. They put everyone on lockdown in their homes while Simon had a private conversation with Gregory."
"Was anyone hurt?" Concern shone through Rick's eyes.
"No, but we're under new restrictions and the amount of produce we're expected to turn over from each crop has increased," Jesus ruefully supplied. "Gregory shared the news with us just this morning."
"And it didn't come from Simon," Gregory interjected. "He was just the messenger. Negan had him bring over a radio so he could deliver the new rules to me personally without having to do it in person. Cute little power play," he grumbled. "I'm not sure what you're expecting from me, here, Rick, but Hilltop has gone above and beyond. You said you could take care of the Saviors and we took you at your word, sharing our limited reserves to get you and your people not starve to death even when you hadn't delivered. Now here you are again, little orphan Oliver with your empty bowl, 'Please, sir, I'd like some more'. What more do you honestly think you deserve?"
"This isn't about deserving, this is about all of us working together to beat these guys!" Rosita was passionate, "It's about not sitting back and just letting him win!"
"Sitting back? Is that what you think I do?" Gregory rounded on the angry woman. "Listen up, Rosie, I have been dealing with Negan for a lot longer than you. And up until now, I've done pretty well. For more than three years now, he's been coming at us. For more than three years now he's been trying to break our backs with his demands. And for more than three years now, I've been keeping my people safe. I kept Hilltop going. And I didn't do it with violence. Negotiation. Diplomacy. Building a relationship. And we were in a good place. Negan hasn't shown up here himself in so long most people don't even remember what he looks like. Even the team Simon brought for his weekly runs was getting smaller, just a skeleton crew. Trust, you see? A give and take. We were even starting to build ourselves a decent food storage, because even though I was having us expand our crops, Negan's idea of 'half' never got bigger. Until now. Until I opened up our home to you people. Now, I've got full convoys of armed men harassing my people, scaring the daylights out of them. Paul here can't leave the community unless he checks in with me, tells me exactly where he's going. And if they show up while he's out on one of his little adventures and they don't find him exactly where he said he'd be, I have to pick which person they're going to kill because he – " Gregory pointed at Jesus, "gets a little antsy behind the walls here!"
Rick put up his hands in a pacifying gesture, "No one here is questioning your leadership. When Jesus first told me about this place, he said that he couldn't see anyone else doing what you did with Hilltop. I believed him then and I believe him still."
Gregory settled down at Rick's praise and leaned back against the edge of his desk. "Well, I appreciate that. But you didn't come here just to pat me on the back. What do you want?"
Michonne stepped up, "Negan took three of our people hostage. You've had to deal with him for a while now; do you have any idea where he might hold people prisoner?"
Gregory shook his head, "He's never taken prisoners from us, not really. Little day trips to do manual labor at other outposts, but nothing long-term. Just the one person he killed to send a message at the start. I'm sorry for your people, I really am. But I can't help you."
"We also need some food, and seeds for some of the early spring crops. We saved the seeds from what you gave us last year, but most of those can't be planted for a few months for a decent yield," Rick requested.
"Seriously, Rick? After I just finished telling you that Negan's going to be taking even more from us?"
Jesus spoke quietly, "Surely we can spare-"
"Fine. We'll get you some seeds for cabbage, broccoli, onion. We might have a few potatoes you can work with. But this can't go on forever. I have to look out for all of my people first," Gregory reasoned. "Bottom line, my people didn't put me in charge so I could risk their lives for no good reason. So we're going to comply. I suggest you do the same."
Sasha and Glenn approached the space that Harlan Carson had set up as the Hilltop's medical center and knocked on the open door. "Anybody home?" Sasha called out.
"Hey, come in," Carson emerged from the supply closet. "I was just taking stock of what we've got. Saviors were here yesterday afternoon rifling through, made a bit of a mess of things. What can I do for you?"
Sasha closed the door as Dr. Carson pulled a cluster of chairs together. "What do you know about ovarian cysts?"
"Well, they're not common but not exactly rare, either. Usually just fluid-filled sacs that form around the reproductive organs but often dissipate on their own. Have you been experiencing any cramps beyond what you normally do during your cycle? Abdominal pain or swelling?" He started working through the symptoms he could recall.
"Not for me," Sasha clarified. "Maggie, Glenn's wife."
"Negan took her," he added miserably. "She was sick, and everyone was on their way to bring her to you, and the Saviors found everyone and they took her."
Sasha quickly relayed a summary of what had happened to them on the road to the doctor.
"And when Negan came to Alexandria yesterday to start claiming his share of our stuff, he left this," Glenn passed the note Negan had written.
Harlan scanned it, concern clearly etched in the deepening frown lines, "I didn't know Maggie was pregnant. How far along is she?"
"We don't know, a couple of months?" Glenn supplied, "Denise had her take a pregnancy test and it came back positive, but then… We were planning on coming here to have you check her out, use the ultrasound, but we kept putting it off."
Harlan nodded, "I don't have a lot of the scanning gel left. Not that you can't use the machine without it, but it helps. Is she showing at all?"
"No, no baby bump, not even a little one."
"So probably three months tops, four at the absolute most. Do you know if my brother was the one to treat her?"
"Your brother?" Sasha was confused.
"Emmett and I came to Hilltop a few years ago after the place we were in got overrun. After a couple of weeks, Gregory came to us. Negan had learned that Hilltop had two doctors – he wanted one. He said we could choose, and that whoever went would be guaranteed protection, a good life, as long as he stayed and did his job. Emmett volunteered. I haven't seen or heard from him sense. I like to think he did it as a favor for me."
"You think he had some other reason?" Sasha was incredulous.
"We've never been all that close," Harlan admitted ruefully. "And while I've never seen the Saviors' compound, I imagine they must have a pretty good set-up. Some of us go into the medical profession out of a desire to help people; others don't mind helping because being a doctor came with a pretty great paycheck, at least before. Emmett was always good at the work, but he was definitely in it for the money. But that's neither here nor there…"
He got up and walked over to a bookshelf to pull an old textbook and began flipping through the pages as he spoke, "So, ovarian cysts. It's like I said earlier, they're usually a fluid-filled sac that forms, grows, and eventually stretches beyond its own means, springs a leak, and the fluid dissipates harmlessly to be absorbed back into the body. But sometimes they grow so large that they're crowding the other organs and muscles. Or there are smaller ones but they're growing in clusters, same problem. Most of the time, even women who get them regularly don't even realize it's happening unless they don't tear on their own. There can be some cramping or even more intense pain, but generally not more than what you'd associate with a more intense menstrual cycle. If they don't go away on their own, you might need surgery to remove them. But, sometimes, they burst. And that can be incredibly painful. Some have even described it as like being shot."
"That would fit with what Maggie experienced," Sasha noted. "I wasn't there exactly when it happened, but I was with her when we were trying to get her here. She said it was like someone had kicked her in the gut. But instead of the feeling fading, it just stayed with her. She got all pale and shaky and had to keep curled in on herself to try and relieve the pain. And every so often, it was like she'd gotten hit all over again."
"Anything like this ever happen before?"
"No," Glenn answered. "She's never had anything like what you described. How bad is this for the baby?"
Dr. Carson wiped his face, "It could mean nothing. The womb is designed to be the ultimate cushion. Worst case scenario is a placental abruption. Basically, the explosive power of the cyst or cysts, and it sounds like, if this is what it is, she had more than one, sends shock waves so strong they force the placenta to tear from the uterine wall. The placenta is the nutrient pack – what Maggie eats gets broken down into her bloodstream, flows into the pack, and that supplies nutrients to the baby through the umbilical cord. But if the placenta gets dislodged, even partially, then it's not receiving any nutrients from the mother. Which means there's nothing to pass from that nutrient pack to the baby. Essentially, even though the mother is eating, the baby could starve to death inside her."
"Oh my God," Sasha breathed. Glenn lost what little color remained in his face and was shaking.
"Please keep in mind that a placental abruption occurring because of a ruptured cyst is rare. And just because one occurs doesn't automatically mean she'll lose the baby. Many women have partial separation of that nutrient pack and deliver reasonably healthy babies. Without actually being able to examine her, I have no way of knowing what we're truly dealing with. I'm just spit-balling all the possibilities here. And that's assuming that this," Dr. Carson held up the note, "is accurate."
"He's right, Glenn. All it says here is that you should look into ovarian cysts, not that she actually had one. For all we know, Negan asked Harlan's brother to list all the possible things that could have been wrong with her and is giving you the run-around."
"Sasha's got a point. I'm not trying to alarm you. I do want you to be prepared and to understand that this could be serious and even life-threatening, but again, what I described is the worst case scenario. What you're describing could just as easily be a bad case of food poisoning and it's already gone away on its own."
Glenn shook his head, "Don't know if you've noticed, but we're not that lucky."
"You didn't have to carry all that," Rick said as Jesus walked with the group to their car hefting a sizeable crate of root vegetables.
"It's no trouble. I'm sorry I got you all into this mess," Jesus offered as he shifted his weight to rebalance the box while Michonne popped the trunk.
"If you hadn't come along and introduced us to this place, we would have been in a lot worse shape," she admitted.
"We wouldn't have made it through the winter without your help," Rick added. "I'm sorry we brought so much more trouble to the folks here. I'm sure everyone was pretty shaken by yesterday's visit and the new changes."
"About that," Jesus put his hand up to stop Rosita from closing the trunk and dropped his voice as low as he could, using the open trunk lid as a shield between the small group and the Hilltop's historic mansion. "Gregory did have a private meeting behind closed doors just like he said. But his office is next to the library, which is where I happened to be when the Saviors showed up. Old buildings have thicker walls, but Negan has a way of making himself heard, even over the radio."
Glenn and Sasha had walked over to join the group and closed in around Jesus. "What did you hear?" Sasha whispered.
"It's more what I didn't hear. As in, I didn't hear anything about us having to increase our weekly contributions. And I didn't hear anything about me or anyone else having to report our comings and goings, either."
"Maybe you missed it somehow. Like you said, thick walls," Glenn offered.
Jesus shook his head, "Heard the whole thing, start to finish. And there's more." But instead of continuing, he closed the trunk with a definitive pat and brought his voice back to its usual volume. "I hate that we can't do more right now, but I hope your planting goes well. I'd like to think we can still help each other out."
Rick nodded and reached out for a firm and friendly handshake, "Don't be a stranger."
Jesus smiled, "Wouldn't dream of it. I imagine, with all the changes, I'll need to go on even more runs than before. I'm sure we'll meet up from time to time."
"That's right, you know this area more than most," Glenn pointed out, "Does 'Towers' mean anything to you? Some place you might have found before coming here, maybe? Or heard the Saviors mention?"
There was a tight clenching in Jesus' jaw and something in his eyes, but all he said was, "I'm not sure how much help I can be, but I promise I'm going to do everything I can."
The group said their goodbyes and waited until the car was well outside Hilltop's gates before Rosita commented, "Well, that was cryptic."
"Why would Gregory lie? Not just to us, but his own people? And something so specific… He can't possibly sustain it. If Negan's not demanding more food from Hilltop's crops, it's not going to take very long for the people living there to realize it," Michonne reasoned. "It doesn't make any sense. What's he going to do with the extra food they're producing?"
"And why keep tabs on Jesus if he's not being forced to? Gregory doesn't strike me as the type to want to take on more work than he has to," Rosita griped.
"I think Jesus knows more about Towers than he felt like he could safely talk about in front of the others at Hilltop," Glenn added.
"Something's definitely fishy," Rick agreed. "Hopefully Jesus can shed some light the next time he's able to come to Alexandria. I, for one, am very interested to hear what Negan really had to say."
Maggie's window faced the back wall of the community, overlooking a few small raised bed gardens and an open street area where the community's children often practiced archery. And while she was feeling decidedly better than she had the night she'd been brought here, the doctor had cautioned her from moving around too much. So Maggie found herself staring out the open window more often than not.
Which is why she didn't notice Negan's quiet entrance until he was already halfway across the room and calling out to her, "Hello, Mrs. Rhee. I must say, you're looking a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you."
She whipped around suddenly, her hand on her belly as she did so. "What do you want?" she snarled.
"What? No hello? Nice to see you again? How 'bout a 'thanks for not killing the love of my life'?"
"Where am I? What is this place? What did you do to my family?"
Negan smiled, "That's a lot of fucking questions. Have a seat, Ms. Maggie. You and I need to have a little chat. And your family is exactly what I want us to talk about."
More Daryl and Beth next time, people. Until then, please feel free to comment, complain, or otherwise review!