Thank you to everyone who reviewed last week's Beth and Daryl chapter (I'm getting the feeling you all would like more of those, yes?), and extra special thanks for your patience with me taking so long to update. Trust me, I'd much rather be working on this full-time, but, sadly, fanfiction doesn't pay bills...
Chapter 13: The Art of the Deal, Part IV
Aaron wasn't sure he should be here. He wasn't a Savior and had no plans to ever be one, either. But when he had stayed in his room last Saturday night, figuring he had no place at the Sanctuary's weekly gathering to discuss Sanctuary business, his absence had been commented on by nearly every person he came in contact with the next morning. And since the last thing he wanted was for Negan to think he wasn't holding up his end of their decidedly one-sided bargain, Aaron had foregone his nightly ritual of writing to Eric and Luke in order to put on the nicer of the two sets of street clothes he'd been given and made his way to the ground floor.
But now that he was here, he had no idea where to go. Like the midday mealtime, all the market stalls were pushed to the sides, the tables and benches more than half filled already. The rest of the Sanctuary's residents were standing in clusters, conversing casually, the sheer number of voices making the general noise reverberate loudly in the large concrete and steel space. Aaron stood awkwardly to the side near the hallway he'd just entered from, wondering if there was some kind of pecking order to the seating arrangement and where he would be the least obtrusive. Like the first day of high school all over again – all the cliques are already established, except butting in on the wrong group could lead to a lot more than getting shoved into the lockers.
He saw the McManus brothers waving him over about the same time as he felt a delicate touch on his arm. He raised a hand to acknowledge them while turning to look over his shoulder.
"We meet again," Beth quipped.
"Fancy that," Aaron returned with a grin. "It's been a while, Doc." That was true; while they both worked in the medical wing and were often just around the corner from each other, he hadn't seen more than a passing glance of her since she gave him a physical and a pep talk his first day in the Sanctuary. Turning to face her fully, he caught a faint sour odor in the air.
It must have shown on his face, "Daryl's clothes and cell ain't exactly minty-fresh if ya know what I mean."
Aaron turned serious and leaned in to murmur, "How is he?"
Beth's voice matched his own, "Not as good as I'd like. Shoulder wound keeps openin' and he ain't gettin' enough to eat. Workin' on it, though."
"How are you?"
She sighed deeply, "I'm makin' it."
"Aren't we all?" If she was going to be candid, so was he, "Which part surprised him more, having kids or having a wife?"
"I've never actually said we're husband and wife. Maybe Beth Dixon is because Daryl's my big brother. Or I married his big brother before he passed. Or we're just two strangers who happen to have the same last name. Could happen, ya know," she grinned.
"Uh, huh," he deadpanned. "Is this going to hurt him, if it all comes out?"
"I'm not going to let it," Beth vowed.
Not going to let it hurt him? Or not going to let the truth about your not-marriage come to light? But all Aaron said aloud was, "He's my friend. He missed you. He didn't let a lot of people see it, but… he did."
Beth seemed to understand what Aaron couldn't give voice to, how much Daryl had been hurting for not having her around, how guilty he felt for losing her the way he had. "Well, then let's take care of him. Come on, you can sit with me. That way, when people stare, we can each pretend they're starin' at the other one."
He chuckled and followed as she headed towards Murphy and Connor, who simultaneously popped up from the bench they were sitting on to sit on the table, freeing up space for Beth and Aaron to sit with them, both men clapping Aaron on the shoulder and wrapping gentle arms around Beth by way of greeting. Based on the solitary chair set up near the head of the room, they were off to the side but at the front of the assembly.
"So, this being my first town hall, what should I expect?" Aaron asked the group, well aware of the quick side-glances and outright stares being leveled in his direction by passers-by.
"Well, normally, I'd say it's pretty boring stuff," Connor began. "The leader of every department gives a brief update, what jobs need filling, projects coming up and the like. Changes in inventory that might affect point prices for food and such. Each floor has a volunteer neighborhood watch that reports in any issues with living spaces. But tonight's might be a bit different. Couple of our neighbors got called down to the conference room to chat with Negan about an hour ago," he directed at Beth while glancing pointedly at the lit furnace.
She nodded, a troubled expression clouding her face briefly, and then explained to Aaron, "I live on the sixth floor, along with the twins. Everyone else lives on the lower floors, 2nd through 4th, though they're all gettin' pretty full, so 5th floor's being cleaned up so any new folks can start movin' in there. The only other people livin ' on the sixth floor are this group who used to be with the FBI, profilers or somethin', real high up agents who all worked together before and all got out of DC together. They're good people, mind ya, we all get along, have dinners together, and they been helpin' me out tons, lettin' the kids play in their apartments when I go see Daryl. It's just that, while they all help with other jobs, Negan also uses them for dealin' with folks who may have broken the rules. So if he's called them in for somethin', it probably means that someone's gettin' punished. He did barge in on me and Daryl, said he had a job for Daryl to do at tonight's meetin'."
Aaron nodded. He remembered vaguely the twins mentioning something about this in one of their initial lunchtime conversations. Aaron had noticed the warmth from the fire when he came in the room but dismissed it – the furnace had been lit a couple of times since his arrival because of the unusual cold and rainy weather, so he hadn't thought much of it being lit tonight, but, if the twins were right, the fire tonight was for anything but comfort. He was about to ask for more details, but Murphy was grinning widely and leaning over to mock-whisper to Beth, "So, what exactly did the big man walk in on? Were the two of you just kissing, or had you already made it to full-on – "
"Murphy McManus, get your mind out of the gutter!" Beth admonished, blushing fiercely as she turned to Connor, "Do somethin' about your brother before my elbow 'accidentally' ends up jabbin' somewhere that makes him very uncomfortable," she warned.
"Do it," Connor encouraged, "Fucking deserves it! What's in your head, asking a lady something like that? Jesus Christ, it's like you've got no fucking manners at all!"
"Lord's fucking name," Murphy admonished, to which Connor rolled his eyes.
"Fine, hail Mary, mother of…" he muttered the rest of the prayer under his breath as a loud clang of Negan firmly rapping Lucille against the upper level railing brought a general hush over the room. Almost as one, the entire population of the Sanctuary stood and then brought themselves down on one knee, Beth gently pulling Aaron along with her.
"Whatever's about to happen," she quietly muttered as Negan made his way to the stairway landing just above their heads, "he'll be watching. Don't look away."
Aaron gave a quick nod to let her know he'd heard and tried to catch Beth's eye, but her attention was on Daryl, who had shuffled in unnoticed from the same hallway where he and Beth had briefly talked earlier, head down and hands gripping a mop in a rolling janitor's bucket. Dwight knelt behind him, one fist roughly gripping the back of Daryl's sweatshirt to keep him on his knees as well.
"Unfortunately, before we can move forward with tonight's little fireside chat, we have a nasty bit of business to take care of," Negan declared as he leaned over the railing. Unlike any other time Aaron had seen him, there was no smile on the lead Savior's face. "It's been a good long while since we've had to deal with crime in our own community, so long in fact that I was hoping we were past this. As if we don't have enough shit to deal with from what's outside our fences. And what's about to happen, what has to happen, is going to be fucking hard on all of us. It'd be a whole lot easier to let it slide. But I can't do that. We have rules for a reason."
Familiar with the ritual, the kneeling residents of the Sanctuary all chorused, "The rules keep us alive."
Negan nodded, "That's right." He gestured for everyone to rise as he strolled down the rest of the staircase and made his way to the front of the room, "The rules keep us alive. Not just alive as in, not one of the rotting dead stumbling around. Alive as human beings. The rules keep us from falling apart, descending into chaos. Without the rules, we would be nothing. No better than the lawless thieves, the murderers, the rapists, the plunderers that we work so hard to save not only ourselves, but the rest of civilization from. The rules protect us. The rules make us strong. Strong enough to save not only ourselves, but others. Because that's who we are. We are the Saviors. We bring order and justice back into the world. And we can't do that if we ourselves don't live by rule of law."
He stood at the front of the group, who had all returned to their seats, and held Lucille straight down in front of him. "We all know the rules. We all contribute. We are honest with each other. We don't have to like every single person here, but we do have to respect one another. We do not harm each other with words, fists, or weapons. We honor our commitments – we do not cheat on our spouses, and we do not cheat or deal with each other unfairly. We do not steal." Aaron noted the change in tone as Negan listed the last rule. Apparently, this was the one that had been broken.
Aaron scanned the room and noticed that pretty much everyone else was doing the same, most with expression ranging from confusion to suspicion. One couple on the opposite side of the room stood out – neither one was looking around like the rest of the group. The woman sat stiffly with her eyes on the ground and her arms crossed over her stomach, either protectively or in pain, while the man, apparently her husband, sat beside her with an arm draped over her shoulder and hands gripping her upper arms. He stared straight at Negan with an inscrutable expression on his face. Aaron nudged Beth with his knee to get her attention and, keeping his hands low in his lap, discretely pointed at the odd couple. She didn't move much but murmured quietly, "I see them. I don't know them, they came in a few months ago, I think, but Dr. Carson must've done their check-in physicals. But you're right, somethin's off. If they're not the ones in trouble tonight, I'll try to get her into the office next week for an exam."
Negan paused as he scanned the room until he found who he was looking for, "Parker Hawkins." Negan pointed Lucille at a middle-aged man with thinning dark blonde hair sitting near the back of the room. Even at a distance, Aaron could see the man's fear as he shakily got to his feet. Negan pointed at him with two gloved fingers and twitched them to indicate that the nervous man should come to the front of the room. Aaron had never met him before but felt a surge of sympathy as he cast about, looking for supporters and, finding none, began an awkward shuffle towards Negan's outstretched hand and barbed bat.
"Sir," Aaron refocused on the mumbling, nervous wreck standing as far from Negan as he could and still be technically at the front of the audience. "I haven't… I mean, I wouldn't… I swear, I never…"
"Mr. Hawkins," Negan finally cut off the man's pleading, "I can't help but be fucking fascinated with your choice in footwear tonight."
"I…I don't know what –" the accused man began, but Negan wasn't done yet.
"Because if I had me a nice new pair of boots like the ones you procured earlier today, there's no way I'd be wearing those ratty pieces of shit on my feet. Unless, of course, I had smuggled them out of the supply closet instead of purchasing them at the market. See, it's Saturday, Parker. Laundry bags from the third floor get noticed when they're being toted around, especially when it's not that floor's laundry day. Gets people curious. And then they bring their curiosities to me. And then I have to interrupt my already limited free time to track down our law enforcement committee to investigate. And they have to spend a lot of their valuable time searching your apartment. Which is where the found the most amazing pair of brand-fucking-new, high-end, top-of-the-fucking-line hiking boots. Which you are conspicuously not wearing. Probably because you know they'd be noticed, and then people might figure out that you didn't pay for them."
Negan took a sideways step so that, while he was still speaking to the accused, he could better address the crowd at large. "Before you start to stutter out some lame-ass excuse about purchasing log books needing a few days to be properly updated, the committee considered that. They checked your points log for your whole family. They made the clothing supply clerk pull his books for the past month and went line-by-fucking-line. So this isn't a matter of you just 'oopsie-daisy' going over on points. If it were, we wouldn't be doing this whole song and dance instead of getting to the real business of running our community. We'd just march you up to the labor officers, let them know how behind in points you'd gotten, and they'd fit you out with a nice jumpsuit and some extra shifts of hard community service until you'd worked off your debt and we'd call it square. But you know that already; you've had to swallow that shit work detail down twice in the last year. So this time, you thought you'd get around the system. If you have something to say for yourself, now's the time."
Hawkins swallowed thickly, wringing his hands so tightly that Aaron thought he might actually break a finger, "It was just a pair of shoes," he half-whispered. "There's no way to… no one can possibly earn enough points for everything we need to just get by… It's just a pair of shoes," he pleaded for understanding.
"First off," Negan countered, "If 'no one can possibly earn enough points for everything they need to get by', then why is that you're the only one stealing shit from your own community? 482 people live inside these walls, not counting our Alexandrian friends, and none of them are up here for having sticky fingers. And second, if it's just a pair of shoes, why not save up for a pair? Plenty of work that needs doing, nothing stopping you from taking on extra shifts. Or bartering – people do it all the time. If it's just a pair of shoes, why not take something that are a lot less likely to be noticed instead of going for the most expensive ones in the lot? What does someone working the burn crew need with a ridiculously fancy-pants pair of hiking boots? If it's just a pair of shoes, why go to the trouble of stealing them when you fucking know what the punishment is? If it's just a pair of shoes, why put your wife, your sister, and your parents through the absolute torture of watching you be punished?"
The man was so distracted by Negan slowing moving closer with each rhetorical question that he failed to notice the two men moving in behind him until they'd already grabbed him by the arms. Aaron watched them drag their prisoner over to the only chair and tie him to it, arms pinned behind his back while he weakly struggled and protested. Negan, meanwhile, walked over to the furnace, where Dwight was now waiting with protective gloves and a red-hot iron, having left Daryl still kneeling by the wall.
Negan carried the heated metal over to the seated man, who was still pleading and sweat-soaked from fear. "Mrs. Hawkins, Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins, Mrs. Godwin," Negan directly addressed the wife, parents, and sister of the accused thief, "I'd understand if you wanted to step out."
Like everyone else, Aaron looked towards the family, who were all visibly upset to varying degrees, but none of them moved to leave the factory floor. Negan nodded in approval and turned back to the prisoner, "I am truly sorry to have to do this."
It was the smell, more than the screams, that made Aaron faintly nauseous. The ironing was done in a few seconds, and the man stopped screaming as he passed out even before Negan had pulled the heated metal away from his face with a squelching sound of peeling skin and sizzling fat. But the odor of singed hair and scorched flesh lingered even after the security team had hauled the unconscious man towards the infirmary, followed by Dr. Carson. With a twitch of Negan's fingers, Daryl was finally allowed to rise to clean up the mess that Parker Hawkins had made of the chair and floor, the combination of fear and pain having been too much for the man's bladder and bowels.
"It's done," Negan addressed the room, "Parker Hawkins broke the rules, but he's been punished, and his slate is wiped clean. I hope that this moment, and his face, will be a reminder to all of us. I don't ever want to have to do this again, especially to one of our own. Now, as soon as Daryl fetches me a fresh chair, we can all move on to what needs doing around here."
The room filled with the low hum of quiet conversations during the brief transition period, and Aaron took advantage of the moment to inquire, "When was the last time someone had to be, you know…"
"Last fall," Beth answered, "A man was caught cheating on his wife. He got the iron, but the woman he was sleeping with hasn't yet."
"Why not?"
"She's pregnant," Connor leaned over to explain, "Negan always waits to find out whether or not the woman's got a bun in the oven. If she does, he'll wait until she's had time to recover from giving birth."
"Antibiotics are hard to come by," Beth added, "Old ones are all expired, and the medical community in North Carolina that makes 'em can only be so sure about how strong the new stuff is. Don't want to go givin' it to a pregnant lady and riskin' somethin' affecting her baby if the drugs are stronger than what we thought."
Negan rapped Lucille on the leg of his newly-acquired chair to get everyone's attention. Daryl, Aaron noticed, had been moved next to the furnace and was once again on his knees, the mop and bucket gone along with the soiled chair.
"Moving on. Neighborhood watch, anything for the good of the group?"
An older woman about a third of the way back stood up, "We talked earlier about this, but it's still an issue. We know that the rain has led to a lot more mud being tracked in, but people can't just keep sweeping off the extra dirt from their walkways over the railing. All it does is collect on the lower floors and in the main stairwell, only to get tracked back up again. And leaving your wet things on the railing just means water dripping down onto lower levels and ruining the paint job on the rails as well."
Negan nodded, "Sounds like this place could use a good old-fashioned deep Spring cleaning. Jobs office, can we make that happen?" He turned to a table in the center column just one row back from the front, where a thin woman with spiked auburn hair was penciling in notes on a pad of paper.
"Not a problem," she said, eyes never leaving her work. "As a heads-up, with all the rain, folks are gonna see quite a few changes in work detail, so make sure you're all paying attention to the schedule. And check the board if you're looking for extra shifts, 'cause there'll be plenty to go around."
Aaron nudged Beth, who quietly offered, "Most families have two log books, one for points and one for work details. You already know how the points log works; the work detail's pretty much the same. Every week, a runner from the jobs or labor office drops off your updated work schedule for the week. Most people don't work just one place like you and I do, they rotate into different things dependin' on their skills and what's needed. So their schedules can change every week. But some things, like workin' in the hospital wing, take special know-how, so we don't move around unless it's time for plantin' or harvestin' the fields. Everyone helps with those."
"Yet another reason I'm glad I work for you," Aaron quipped lightly under his breath, but Beth heard him all the same and nudged him playfully.
"Since we're talking about complications from the weather," a man at the same table as the auburn-haired woman spoke up, "we might as well go ahead and put this out there. The rain has seriously delayed planting. If it doesn't let up in the next few days, there won't be enough time for the fields to dry out and still get anything in the ground for the first round of grains. Potentially losing half the year's grain harvest is going to put a serious dent in our food resources. For the time being, until we can be certain of how the rest of the growing season is going to play out, we're putting a stop to all grains being sold in the market. And everyone should prepare for increased costs on all food, even what's grown in the greenhouses."
Upset murmuring broke out across the room. Murphy leaned over Beth's shoulder, "You know Connor and I've got more than enough points for the two of us. 'tis nothing at all to spot you and your little ones a few suppers now and again."
"Aye," Conner jumped in, "not as though we haven't nipped more than a few of those amazing biscuits of yours. It'd only be fair, really."
Beth turn around as she rolled her eyes, "What is it with the men in my life all collectively decidin' I can't hold my own?"
"Ooh, I don't know what Daryl did, but he'd best be apologizin' to ya real quick-like," Murphy teased.
Beth shushed him as Negan got the rest of the room calmed down, "Temporary precautions are necessary until we know what we're dealing with, but we will all pull together and we will all get through this."
One by one, Negan called for different leaders to sound off on issues or updates, almost like a corporation's CEO going around the board room getting input from various department heads. Aaron got the feeling that, although it seemed as if Negan was hearing all these reports at the same time everyone else was, there wasn't much the Savior's leader wasn't already aware of before walking into the weekly community gathering.
It was amusing, however, to watch as he called for an update from medical. Dr. Carson was technically the head of the hospital wing and Negan looked to him when asking if there were any issues that needed to be shared. But Carson, who had come back several minutes before from treating his newest burn victim, looked wide-eyed and slightly panicked at Beth, who shook her head with a knowing grin while Dr. Carson then attempted to seem knowledgeable and authoritative as he pronounced that medical had nothing to report. Aaron could only see so much without actively turning around, but from what he caught in his peripheral vision, others had noticed the wordless exchange and were either smirking or rolling their eyes. It was like Beth had said on their first encounter, Dr. Carson might have seniority, but she was essentially in charge of all things related to the hospital wing and, apparently, most everyone else knew it, too.
"If anybody's got any issues they think we need to discuss as a whole, here's your chance," Negan was relaxed but now leaning forward in his chair as if preparing to stand. From all appearances, the Savior's leader felt that the meeting was on the verge of wrapping up.
"What about Alexandria?" someone shouted from the back of the room. "What are we doing about them?"
Aaron couldn't help but stiffen at the mention of home. The question had set the entire crowd into a buzz of whispers, and he knew without turning that anyone who wasn't staring him was glaring at Daryl (who had also seized up but couldn't otherwise move from his spot by the furnace). Beside him, Beth remained the picture of calm as she gently squeezed his knee in reassurance.
Negan, meanwhile, remained in his seat but had stopped idly passing Lucille's grip from one hand to the next, "Alexandra is being handled. We have their full cache of weapons and they know now how fucking stupid they were to attack us. They won't be doing anything like that again and, if they try, we will deal with them."
But Negan's words didn't stop the murmurs; if anything, some grew more agitated.
"That' a crock of shit," the firm declaration silenced the room.
Negan's tightened grip on Lucille was the only outward sign of irritation he allowed himself. Apparently, he either hadn't expected this topic of conversation to come up, or he was not used to being challenged at these meetings. Likely, both were to blame. "Charlie, I've got nothing but respect for you, and I know that you've got more reason than most of us to be pissed."
"I don't want your damned sympathy," the old man got to his feet, "My grandsons are dead. The last of my kin. Not just dead, butchered by those sons of bitches at Alexandria for no goddamned reason. And what have we done about it? Furniture and knick-knacks ain't gonna give me back my boys!"
"Nothing is going to bring back your grandsons," Negan shot back bluntly, but not with any malice. "That's the fact of it. If I thought, for even one damn second, that wiping Alexandria off the face of the earth would make you or any single person here who lost someone at that outpost feel even the slightest bit better, every last man and woman from that community would be dead and on the fences right now."
"But what are we doing about them?" another voice from the crowd.
And another. "What about our rules? If any of us did what they did, they'd be dead for it. They killed our people, why aren't we punishing them?"
"Or at least the iron."
"I heard the prisoner you took isn't even being guarded when he works now! How are we supposed to feel safe in our own home?"
The questions and comments were coming out faster than could rightly be answered, and Negan's frustration was visible. Clearly, this was not how he saw the evening going. And as the crowd's outbursts grew more frequent and energized, Aaron began to fear that either Daryl, himself, or both of them were in serious danger of being branded, if not outright executed, to appease the mob.
But other than keeping her hand on his knee, Beth remained quietly composed in her seat. Until one voice from behind them made a comment about the possibility of a traitor in the community feeding information to Alexandria. Without turning, Beth's voice rang clear over the din, "Say my name."
She might as well have fired a pistol in the air for the silence that consumed the crowd. Even Negan seemed stunned by the hard, determined tone in her voice as she stood and turned to face the room, "There ain't a soul in here who don't know who you're talkin' about. Say my name. And have the guts to say it to my face. If you think I've betrayed us, call me out. Fire's already lit and the iron's still hot. So let's hear it."
No one spoke for several seconds until a woman Aaron didn't know timidly offered, "I don't think anyone's outright accusing you of anything, Doc. It's just…"
"It's just that my husband was one of them. I used to be one of them. And it's hard to trust with all the hurt we're all feelin'," Beth finished for her. "I get that." She looked down and seemed to gather her thoughts and her courage before continuing, "Y'all all know me, but most of ya don't know where I came from or how I got here." She glanced back to Daryl, still on his knees and carefully not looking up, before turning back to the group, "Our home in Georgia was a lot like here. Smaller, but we were buildin' somethin'. And our leader was a lot like Negan. Someone we could trust, someone we knew would lead us through everythin' that was happenin'. And then we were attacked, outta nowhere, by the kind of monsters we fight so hard to keep out of our Sanctuary. Thieves and murderers who wanted what we had and didn't care who they killed to get it. All those people, my friends, all the little ones… And those of us who made it were all split up. For a long time, I thought I'd never see the rest of my family again. And I never thought that they'd become the very sort of people who did to others what'd been done to us. Even after seein' what they done to our friends, our family. Even after trackin' them back to Alexandria and seein' over those walls with my own eyes, I still can't really believe it was people I called family who done this. And it makes my blood boil every time I think that if it weren't for – " Beth cut herself short.
But by now every adult in the Sanctuary was hanging on her every word and were anxious to hear whatever she had stopped herself from saying, with several calls of "Weren't for what?" echoing over the group.
A helpless expression crossed her face as she turned to Negan, "I ain't had a chance to talk with you about this, I'm not sure…"
After a beat, Negan waved her on, "What matters to the Sanctuary gets shared with the whole Sanctuary."
Except Aaron had the distinct impression that what Negan said was the exact opposite of what Negan wanted. But in front of the whole community, there was nothing he could do but let Beth continue. The room was hers. And she knows it. And it suddenly dawned on Aaron, the declaration Beth had made at their first meeting of 'I know how to handle Negan', wasn't about controlling the man himself, but about knowing how to seize control from him. Beth couldn't stop Negan from going after her family, but she could make it very unpopular for him to do so. And Negan's ego couldn't handle the people turning against him. Whoever controls the mob controls the man. And right now, either by accident or design (and Aaron wasn't sure he'd ever truly know for certain that Beth hadn't somehow orchestrated this entire turn of events), for the moment, Beth, not Negan, controlled the Sanctuary.
Beth nodded, almost more to herself than to Negan, before declaring aloud, "If it weren't for Hilltop, none of this would have happened."
Aaron hadn't had any cause to bring up the Hilltop community, so he'd had no idea just how passionately the Sanctuary's residents were going to react to that statement. But even the McManus brothers, who normally took even the most intense or violent things in stride, were suddenly clenching both fists and jaws.
"Alexandria was starving, all their crops had failed. They went out looking for help and what they found was Hilltop. Gregory lied. He said that Negan, that all of us, had attacked Hilltop for no reason and promised them that, if they killed Negan and 'rescued' them, he'd give Alexandria what Hilltop had been giving us. And then he pointed them in the direction of the satellite station and said that Negan would be there. I ain't sayin' what Alexandria done was right. That's why Daryl's here, why Aaron's here. They know what Alexandria did was wrong and even though they both know they can't give back what we've lost, they're doin' what they can to make amends."
"But how do you know?" The old man, Charlie, spoke up. "How do you know they haven't sold you and Negan and all the rest of us this line of bullshit so's we'll feel sorry for 'em?"
"Because I asked Daryl, and I trust him with my life. And I asked Aaron, and even though I didn't know him before, he's got no reason to lie to me. They didn't have a chance to check with each other, but they both told me what I'm telling y'all," Beth turned from Charlie to address the group, "But even if I didn't have that, I trust Negan. Negan has led us this far and has gotten all of us, together, through so much. Some of you have been here almost from the start. But those who have been out there, you know what the world can be like nowadays. You know what we're up against. And Negan has always come through for us." The crowd was nodding, murmuring in agreement.
"Negan says there can be a peace between us and Alexandria, and I believe him. Not just because I want there to be, but because it's Negan who says it. That's what it comes down to for me. I miss my old friends, but you don't see me settin' foot in Alexandria. I love my sister, but I ain't goin' to see her, either. And if the day ever comes that Negan says that Alexandria has to go, I'll be right where he needs me to be. Because the Sanctuary is my home. It's my children's home. And I'm Negan."
Aaron didn't have to look around to know that the whole room was right in the palm of Beth's hand. And she had placed them solidly back in Negan's hands. But even as the Savior's leader smoothly rose to his feet and commanded the crowd's attention once more, Aaron knew Beth's point had been made. Negan wasn't the only one who could sway the Sanctuary. Like Dr. Carson, he might be in charge, but Beth knew how things worked and had a pull all her own. And if Negan didn't know it before, he definitely knew it now. When it came to looking out for her family, Beth Dixon was a force to be reckoned with.
"Do you have any idea how stupid that was?" Rick finally turned on Abraham as they walked together towards the house where Abraham and Sasha lived. He hadn't wanted to confront the man in front of their group, knowing how irascible the former soldier could be when publicly challenged. So Rick had asked Abraham to walk with him after the ginger had slipped into their group's meeting just as Jesus was slipping out. He would have preferred to have this conversation behind closed doors, but their options were limited, given that Sasha and Abraham shared their house with several others in their family (though it was fewer these days, Rosita having moved out when she and Abraham broke things off and Eugene, of course, whose empty bedroom and vacant chair in the kitchen's breakfast nook left a noticeably gaping hole in the occupants' minds). The side yard between theirs and Spencer Monroe's house would have to do.
"Don't you get in my fucking face about this, Rick! I'm doing exactly what we said we needed to do, gathering intel so we can beat this fucker at his own game."
Rick had expected Abraham's anger. And he wasn't wrong, exactly, just going about it the wrong way. Rick made a concerted effort to remain calm, "It's one thing to pour over Aaron's notebooks for clues, to eavesdrop on Saviors, and a whole 'nother thing to risk yours and Daryl's lives. We need our people more than we need information."
Even in the dim light, with the moon half-hidden by clouds on this overcast (but thankfully not rainy) night, he could see Abraham's jaw clench at the mention of Daryl's name. "Wouldn't have been any damn risk if Dixon had played ball."
"What choice did he have?" Rick countered, "He's constantly under threat, being watched, we all are, but him most of all – "
"You think I don't know that? You think I'm some kind of moron? I triple-checked, Rick, there were no guards, no one watching that house. I even checked Daryl for a wire, nothing! There was no goddamned reason why he couldn't take ten fucking seconds to spit out what he'd seen and heard."
"There must have been something, something he knew you missed."
"Oh, I didn't miss it," Abraham disputed, "But you have. Daryl's done. Negan broke him."
Rick was already shaking his head, "Daryl's protecting Maggie, protecting all of us. He's doing what he has to – "
"The only thing he had to do was open his goddamned mouth. But he can't. Or won't." Abraham put his hands up, "Don't defend him, don't even start. Because he didn't just not share what he knows, he went for no damned reason and tattled like a crybaby. That's not protecting, Rick, that's betraying us."
"No," Rick was adamant. "If you think that, you don't know him at all. You don't know what he's done, what he's given up, what he's lost…"
"Oh, spare me your river of tears for what Daryl Dixon's lost – we've all lost a few friends along the way and from where I'm standing, that sorry-ass redneck has made out alright. Built himself a whole goddamned following of chumps who hang on his every move like he's the patron saint of the apocalypse or some shit."
"Don't," Rick warned, stepping into Abraham's personal space, "You don't know."
"Fine," Abraham dismissed. "Here's what I do know. Everybody breaks. Everyone's got that one thing, whatever it is, that losing it makes them snap like a twig. And whatever Daryl's one thing is, Negan found it. Think about it, Rick, just think for a goddamned minute what should have happened today after Daryl ratted me out. It's like you said, my life was on the line. Daryl's life was on the line, or at least a good chunk of himself, because that's what Negan told you he'd make you do if we fucked around with trying to fight back. So when Daryl spoke up today, he did it fully believing that Negan would splash my brains across your front porch."
"That's the position you put him in," Rick defended with more than a bit of snarkiness leaking bleeding through his tone. "Negan said that Daryl made a deal to guarantee safety and medical care for Maggie and her baby. Maybe he thought your life was worth keeping that deal in place."
"'Negan said', huh? I'm getting sick and tired of hearing about what Negan says. And I'm really fucking sick and tired of hearing you quote him like his words are gospel crapped out of the goddamned Bible itself. His words don't mean shit, Rick! Look at what he's done! Aaron's kid crying himself to sleep every night, scared shitless he's going to lose another parent. Glenn going out of his mind. All of us scrambling for scraps while this fucker lords over us, grinning like a motherfucking clown at the circus. And whatever I might think of Dixon at the moment, I can respect the fact that I know he's tough as nails, which means I also know that, for Negan to break him the way he has – don't fucking argue right now – Daryl must have gone through some kind of torture the likes of which none of us here have ever seen or known. Probably still is. And none of that even comes close to Eugene. A couple of weeks go by and what? Have we all just forgotten? Well, I remember," he whispered in Rick's ear. "Remember, Rick? The sound of bones crunching? The smell of blood choking in your throat? The taste of bile on the back of your tongue every time that barbed bat squelched in what used to be Eugene's face? The stink of sweat and fear, thinking your boy was about to be next?"
Rick's gaze had dropped to the ground. He nodded, "I remember. I'm never going to forget." He looked back up to meet Abraham's eyes, "That's why we have to keep it from happening again. That's what we all agreed to. Now, Negan's given us a deal where we can have Maggie and her baby home in a few months – "
"Oh, Negan's made a deal, that makes everything better. Jesus H. Christ, Rick, when are you going to get it? The deal is that there is no deal! The deal is that Negan is going to string us along until he's got enough rope wrapped around that he can hang us all. We have absolutely no proof that Maggie's still alive, just some made-up medical shit and Negan's word that he's taking care of her. And Aaron's letters? Negan could have him stuffed in a hole in the ground, pull him out once a week and put a gun to his head while he dictates every word Aaron puts on paper. And we've all seen Daryl. You can't tell me you expect him to be alive for much longer if things keep going for him the way they have. The deal is that Maggie, Aaron, Daryl – they're all gone. We are never going to get them back. And if you don't open your fucking eyes and face facts, all that's going to happen while you're busy trying to appease Negan, playing nice and making 'deals', is that he's going to squeeze this place dry of whatever useful shit he can get, and then crush our skulls and move the fuck on. Just like he's doing with Hilltop. Just like he's probably done to a dozen other places. And the more we give in and the longer we wait, the easier we make it for him."
Rick was adamant, "You don't want to forget about Eugene? Well, I'm not going to forget about Maggie, or Aaron, or Daryl. They're not gone, not until I see their dead bodies. I'm not giving up on our friends."
"Then maybe it's you that's done."
"What?"
"If you can't lead us out of this shit-storm, then it's time for you to step aside and make room for somebody who will," Abraham declared.
So, it's like that, Rick grit his teeth. "You think you can do better? You tell me, Abraham, what're you gonna do? We've got 73 people, and of those, maybe, maybe a third of them could be decent fighters. Except Negan's got hundreds. And we've got no guns. So I can't wait to hear this grand plan you've got for leading us in some kind of all-out war against him. You want to be in charge? Go ahead, you'll end up ruling over a graveyard."
"And what do you think is going to be any different if we keep doing things your way? Alexandria will still be a graveyard. It'll just take us a little longer to realize we're dead already."
Rick sighed and took a moment before making up his mind. "Give me four weeks."
"Four weeks for what?"
"In four weeks, if we do everything Negan asks, he promised – no, don't interrupt – that he'd start taking additional time off Maggie's being kept away from us. Between Jesus going to check out this Kingdom place and me negotiating with Negan, in four weeks, if we don't have real, actual proof that Maggie's alive and well, we'll do this your way."
Abraham stepped back and offered his hand to seal the deal, "Alright, Rick. Four weeks. And then we're done sitting on our asses, waiting for the sky to fall on Negan's head. Four weeks. And then we kick his ass."
Spencer's face involuntarily scrunched in disgust as he listened in on Abraham and Rick. Their fault, really, arguing right outside his open bedroom window. And who the hell did they both think they were, making decisions for the rest of them? And not just everyday, run-of-the-mill stuff, but life-and-death choices that would likely drive the Alexandria Safe Zone into the ground, because no way could they win against Negan, and no way would Negan let slide if they attacked him again.
Mom, Dad, Aiden… this would never have happened if they were still here, Spencer thought angrily to himself. As far as he was concerned, Rick's leadership was just one bad decision after another. And now this, pretending to play along with the Saviors while planning some secret crazy suicide rebellion… Well, if that's the way Rick Grimes is going to play it, looks like I'll just need to make my own deal with Negan.
Carl might not be able to hear what was being said, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that his Dad and Abraham had some kind of secret deal going on. He'd seen them coming up the road from Eric and Aaron's house and then breaking off from the group to talk privately. And, while he couldn't get close enough to eavesdrop, he was able to watch the two of them by hiding around the side of Olivia's house. Whatever was being said, Carl could see things get pretty intense before ending in a handshake. So there is a plan, he thought back to Abraham and Tyrese's encouragement from the week before. Dad just doesn't want me in on it yet. Carl figured that was fair – one week probably wasn't enough to convince people that he could be serious and hold his own against Negan after getting all their guns taken. And it's not like he meant for that to happen. He knew even when he fired the warning shot that it was a stupid thing to do. Sometimes he felt like he was stuck inside someone else, watching through their eyes as they did something he knew better than to risk. He'd confessed that to Michonne once, who'd laughed and patted him on the back, "Welcome to being a teenager," she'd smirked. Alright, fine, he got it. And he could wait. As long as there was a plan.
Lily and Liam had gone to bed suspiciously easy, Sunni's melancholy frown had quirked into a half-grin at the mention of a rooftop picnic with her favorite baked treat, and a CD of Alice Russell's soulful melodies had Beth humming quietly along as she kneaded the bread dough before setting it to rise. She was still exhausted but feeling slightly more optimistic, both after talking with Daryl and after 'gently' reminding Negan that he was not the only one who knew how to use words to one's advantage. Heck, with her small stature and being the baby of the family, words were pretty much all she'd had against her brother and sister growing up. Just because she hadn't voiced her opinion much in family meetings at the prison didn't mean she didn't know how to get her way when she needed to. And she was way past tired of having people give her funny looks or quickly looking away every time she walked into a room. For heaven's sake, she wasn't the one who killed those people at the outpost, she'd heard the distress call on the radio and had been part of the group who'd gone to try and help them! Just thinking about it all got her riled up inside all over again and she forced herself to breathe deeply and push it back down. Tonight had gone well and tomorrow was going to be even better, spending the day with her family after getting some much-needed rest.
The quiet knock at the door interrupted her mental pep-talk. And when she opened it, all thoughts of pleasantly winding down the evening were crushed by Negan's presence filling the doorway as he leaned one arm casually against the frame and grinned wolfishly.
"We need to talk."
I'm going to go ahead and apologize now – it's going to be at least a week before the next update. Sorry, folks – real life keeps stubbornly intruding on fanfiction-writing time! Is it too late to ask for reviews anyway? :)