You all have no idea how long I've been anticipating what's coming in these next few chapters... so, here we go!
Chapter 18: Red Sky at Morning, Part II
This wasn't how Jesus had intended to visit the Kingdom.
For several weeks, he'd been considering possible scenarios, how best to approach Ezekiel, assuming he was allowed through the gate at all. Dishonesty wasn't an option in his mind – the truth always had a way of making itself known and, in any case, a liar isn't part of who he is. So the question was how he could phrase the truth, what words would be best to get the most information out of the Kingdom-dwellers and, more importantly, to find out what happened to Maggie, perhaps even spend some time with her to verify for himself that she was indeed safe and faring well.
The one thing he hadn't considered in his musings was arriving at the Kingdom at the same time Negan did.
Jesus knew it was more probable than not that Negan and Ezekiel had some kind of connection – though what exactly it entailed and who it more greatly benefited, Jesus could only guess at. He was good at making inferences, though, and it spoke volumes, he thought to himself as he watched from a crouched position in the tree-line near the Kingdom's gate, that Negan felt safe and confident approaching the community with only a solitary delivery truck and entered the walled compound alone, leaving the truck's driver to wait in the vehicle. But it was a relationship to ponder another time, because Jesus was far more interested in the fact that said driver was Daryl, and, aside from being more-than-casually observed by the Kingdom security watch on their walls, no one was with him.
The approach wasn't easy, with the truck being out in the open, but Jesus hadn't snuck up on Rick and Michonne in their own home for nothing, hadn't gotten himself out of his binds and on top of a moving truck with Daryl and Rick doing their damnedest to get rid of him on dumb luck. Years of experience both before and after the world changed had taught him the power of stealth, and he used it now, easing his way and mindful that he didn't move the overgrown grasses by the roadside, lest their swaying attract the guards' attention. Even with the Kingdom's guards keeping their sights more on the truck's occupant than on the surrounding road and woods, Jesus was able to creep to the back of, and then along the side of the truck's white panel cargo-hold, careful to keep the bulk of the boxy vehicle between himself and the Kingdom's watchtower. It wasn't easy, but it was worth it to find himself crouching beside the driver-side door, where he could use the side-view mirror to see Daryl staring straight ahead through the windshield, gaze alternating between the closed gate and the guard on the wall.
Come on, Daryl, you have to meet me half-way here, Jesus silently willed him to look in the mirror. Use your hunter/tracker Spidey-senses and realize you're not alone out here.
Of course, the possibility existed that Daryl wasn't free to acknowledge him, either because he wasn't alone in the front of the truck (just because Negan got out didn't necessarily mean there wasn't a third traveler who was left behind to guard their prisoner), or because there were people in the truck's enclosed cargo hold – less likely for the lack of air-flow, but Jesus still wasn't willing to risk knocking on the truck's door or calling out.
Look in the mirror, Daryl, he silently pleaded in his mind as he shifted into a slightly better position. The change in stance put an increased strain on his thighs as he fought to maintain his stance, but his efforts paid off when he saw Daryl flinch slightly and clench his jaw, hooded eyes locked on the side-view mirror.
Now the trick was to make sure that Daryl was in fact alone in the truck. But how to do it? Jesus mentally debated his options before softly tapping the pads of his index and middle finger on the door panel. Daryl didn't speak, but he shifted his arm to rest on the edge of the open driver-side window and subtly returned the two-finger double-tap in acknowledgement. Jesus pointed to his own mouth: Can we speak aloud?
Daryl used the mirror to shield his hand from the Kingdom's watchtower even as he pointed in its direction and gave a minute shake of his head. It was enough for Jesus to pick up on; the Kingdom's guard was watching Daryl closely through the truck's front windshield and would notice if Daryl suddenly started speaking to seemingly no-one. But this was too critical an opportunity to pass up.
Alright, we can see each other, but we can't talk, or, at least, Daryl can't. While Jesus was busy contemplating how they could use the mirror to communicate, Daryl provided a solution. Easing his fingers onto the outside door panel, he discretely pointed back to Jesus and then casually wiped his own mouth before putting his hand back on the door, pointing to himself, and then gently tapping on the metal surface.
"I got it," Jesus softly murmured, "I talk, you tap. Two taps for yes, one for no?"
At the affirmative double-tap, Jesus grinned and nodded, the barely-audible gesture was all he needed.
"Are you alright?" Two taps. "Have you seen Aaron, and is he okay, too?" Yes for both.
"Is Maggie here?" Daryl's hand visibly hesitated before offering a noticeably-less confident yes than he'd given for the first two questions.
Going to have to read between the lines a bit. Trying for clarification, he rephrased his question, "Has Negan told you that Maggie is here?"
A more confident Yes had Jesus nodding in understanding, "But you haven't seen her for yourself?" Yes. Jesus pressed a bit, "Do you believe him?" A microsecond's pause before Yes.
"Rick seems to think you have some kind of deal that's protecting her, getting her food and medical care. Is that true?" Daryl's hand paused midair before finally giving the affirmative double-tap, but Jesus could see the tension and frustration in his reflected expression.
"Okay, I know that means something more complicated, I'm just not sure how to phrase things," Jesus pondered various scenarios before a clear, solitary tap from Daryl halted his thoughts.
"You want me to move on to something else?" he queried.
Double-tap. Jesus nodded in agreement – their time was limited and this method of conversing was enough of a barrier to sharing information.
"I'm here because I think Hilltop lied to me, and then put me in a position to lie to you. Hilltop, or at least Gregory, misrepresented his relationship with Negan – "
An emphatic double-tap of Daryl's fingers was loud enough to make both men freeze as the metallic sound carried on the otherwise empty road around them.
"I'm going to take that as you having gotten some kind of proof on your side," Jesus posited, and Daryl quickly tapped to confirm.
"Is it just Gregory, or were more involved? Was it one specific incident, or a series of somethings?" Jesus' questions got the better of him and Daryl had to put his hand in a firm 'stop' position to reign him back in.
"Sorry, I know, one at a time. Okay, let's do this true/false. Gregory lied." Yes.
"Negan might have been right in punishing Hilltop." Yes. But then he quickly followed with a single tap.
"And Alexandria?" Here, Daryl paused, gave two minute taps, then wiggled his hand slightly.
"What I'm getting is maybe for both, yes?" Daryl confirmed, leaving Jesus to ponder the implications while knowing he didn't have long for this unexpected conversation.
"Do you have proof of something that makes you think the Saviors aren't the enemy we thought they were?" On this, Daryl answered more confidently, still as soft and small with his movements, but no hesitation.
"And you trust your source?" Definite Yes. Is the same as Aaron's?" Through the side-view mirror, he could see the quizzical look on Daryl's face, so he clarified, "Aaron has been able to write to Eric and Luke, and slip in a few coded messages. Not much, but he seems to have at least one friend inside the Sanctuary that he thinks would be more on his side than Negan's if it came to a fight."
Jesus wasn't sure how to read the expression in Daryl's face, but given their time constraints, he took the tapped-out yes for what it was.
"We were set up at the outpost," Daryl's mumbled declaration startled Jesus, and he glanced with widened eyes towards the guard tower to notice what Daryl had already seen – the Kingdom's security watch was turned away from the truck. Daryl took advantage and continued, "The ones we let go that night, they all turned up dead, bodies brought back to the station so's it looked like we killed 'em all. Did you find that place yourself or did someone else tell you where it was first?"
"Gregory gave me general directions, said he overheard Simon and some of the others talking about it and the likelihood of Negan being there."
Daryl nodded, keeping his sharp gaze fixed on the still-distracted guard, "Need ya to get the names of the three guys from Hilltop who came with us that night."
Jesus frowned, "You think they doubled back?" Daryl shrugged. "The odds of us getting to talk again anytime soon are slim, unless Negan's got you making runs like this on a schedule – "
Daryl cut him off with a shake of his head, "Get 'em to Rick, tell him to get the names to Negan."
"The hell's that going to help?" Jesus was baffled.
"Ain't nobody at Hilltop's supposed to know about that outpost, Negan figures some of his guys are turnin' on him. Tell Rick, he can't let on why he's sharin' those names. Can't let him know we talked, or I'll lose – " Daryl cut himself off and subtly pointed back towards the Kingdom's walls. The guard's attention was focused back on the truck.
Jesus shifted to relieve the pins-and-needles feeling in his legs from the sustained crouch as he considered what else the two of them could exchange. "I came here because I've been inside the Kingdom before, and I'm hoping they'll let me in to talk with their leader, maybe see Maggie. Any of that going to compromise you?" No.
He took a breath before changing topics, "Rick is trying to keep the peace with Negan, at least until he can get the three of you back, but he's getting pressure from some, Abraham especially, who feels like our only chance of survival is to fight back. Abraham agreed to a month of sitting on the sidelines, but that was almost three weeks ago. If Negan doesn't provide some definitive proof of life for Maggie by then, Rick's going to let Abraham put together a battle plan."
NO! Daryl's single tap was immediately followed by a restraining hand, and Jesus could see the increased tension in Daryl's eyes and jaw as he held himself back from speaking.
"Alright, message received, we shouldn't attack the Saviors," Jesus measured out in what he hoped was a calming tone. "But we also can't leave things as they are, for your sake if nothing else. Everyone's worried and, seeing you up close, so am I. Whatever it is you're thinking, does it include an escape for you?"
He could see Daryl gnawing on the inside of his lower lip before he finally wiggled his hand a bit. Maybe.
Jesus wasn't mollified in the least, and started to rise up slightly on his haunches before making his case for Daryl's survival being more important, but Daryl began speaking again, the guard having turned his attention to something inside the Kingdom's walls, "You talk to Rick, ONLY Rick. Tell him we talked, and tell him I said y'all gotta keep the peace for now, 'cause we won't win. Gregory fucked up and Negan knows it, knows we ain't killed all those folks at the outpost, and if he gets the ones really responsible, things'll go easier for all of us. Tell him, there's a way outta all this, but he's gotta wait. Maggie's alright but she can't be goin' nowhere 'til the baby's born. If he's gonna push for someone comin' back, it can be Aaron, but not her. And not me."
"Daryl – " Jesus tried to interrupt, but Daryl wasn't having it.
"I ain't comin' back, no matter how this goes. Tell him – " the metallic squeal of the Kingdom's gates opening stopped both of them short. Negan was strolling casually through the opening with a clear bounce in his step, his whistle carrying on the breeze. They were out of time.
Daryl reached down, grabbed Jesus' shoulder with an intensity that surprised the normally unflappable man. "Tell Rick, what we said, in the woods after Terminus, tell him he was wrong."
Jesus could only hope Rick would understand Daryl's cryptic message as he silently slipped into the trees.
It took a moment for Negan's eyes to light on Maggie's silhouette where she stood on the edge of one of the Kingdom's raised garden beds. Not only was she much more obviously pregnant than the last time he'd seen her, but she wasn't alone. Standing with her, far too close for it to be accidental, was the dark-skinned figure with the wood staff he'd seen practicing on the balcony on his last visit. How about that, two birds with one stone. Negan almost couldn't believe his luck as he strolled with a light bounce in his step towards the unsuspecting pair.
"Well, hello, Ms. Maggie!" Negan crowed, "Ooh, just look at that baby bump! My goodness gracious, you have blossomed overnight!" He couldn't help grinning just a bit wider at the way she jerked and wrapped her arms over her rounded belly before mentally scolding himself, Beth's sister, gotta play nice, at least for now. Schooling his facial expression into one of soothing concern, he continued, "Now, now, there's no need for all that. I'm serious. You are absolutely gorgeous! I mean it. Some women, let's face it, they look every bit as ridiculous as they feel with their beach-ball bellies and waddling with every step. You never tell them that, of course, but… Not you. Healthy glow and everything… It suits you," he finished with a softness that was both genuine and intended to flatter.
Without giving her a chance to respond, Negan turned and offered his hand to the stranger he'd been so curious about, "My apologies, I don't believe we've met."
There was just the slightest hesitation before the man shifted his staff to his left hand in order to accept Negan's handshake, "Morgan. I know who you are." It wasn't said with malice, but just a slight edge, enough that both his tone and his body language set off warning bells in Negan's mind.
He knows Maggie, not just from meeting her here. He knew her before, already trusted her. Is that why Ezekiel didn't want me meeting him last time – he's been making his own alliances with Alexandria behind my back? There wasn't enough information to go on, and Negan knew better than to jump to conclusions, but this was definitely an avenue worth exploring. When his outpost had been hit, the Kingdom had been the only other community within range to hear their radio call for help. Negan hadn't given it any consideration at the time, but now… maybe the Kingdom's soldiers were a little too quick in getting to the carnage. Especially given what Daryl had just shared about the survivors. Maybe my problems aren't home-grown. Maybe King Dreadlocks has grown a bit too high and mighty for his little Camelot.
He gave nothing away, however, just continued the conversation with an ease born out of natural people-skills and years of practice weaving verbal traps, "Is that a first or last name, Morgan?"
"Doesn't matter, just is," the enigmatic man replied.
Negan quirked an acknowledging grin, "Can't exactly argue with that. The Kingdom treating you well?"
"Me or her?"
"Both. There's an expectation of protection and care for Mrs. Margaret here and as for you," Negan paused, considering how to go about phrasing this, knowing it would likely make its way back to Ezekiel at some point, "Well, I must confess, I saw you practicing with that stick of yours the last time I visited, and I was enthralled. I mean, there I was talking with the King and there's a goddamned tiger walking next to me, but I could not take my eyes off you. I've seen a lot of fighting styles in my day. What you do, that's special. Unique. And unique interests me. The King tells me that you're a traveler, looking for a peaceful place to settle, and, hey, if you've found it, congratulations. Sincerely. But," Negan gave a meaningful glance around as if there were some grand secret he was hesitant to reveal, "if it turns out that this place isn't the promised land you thought it'd be… maybe we can help each other."
Morgan was skeptical but trying not to show it. Negan knew better. "I came here because I don't want to fight. Life is precious. All life."
"I'm not asking you to fight. And I would hope that Ezekiel hasn't asked that of you, either. And yet, the first time I laid eyes on you, you weren't exactly treating that staff like a walking stick." Negan quickly waved his hand dismissively to stave off both Maggie and Morgan's impending protests, "I'm not calling you out or anything, just making an observation. In an ideal world, these things we carry," he shifted his grip on Lucille but kept the barbed end deliberately aimed at the ground, "are for the dead only. But, as you say, you know who I am, which means you probably know that I haven't always been able to live up to that standard, and I'm guessing that a man who is going out of his way to make a new life for himself has experienced more than his share of violence. We don't need to make peace with ourselves unless we've been at war."
Negan could see his words landing emotional barbs with Morgan and chose to close his pitch, "I wasn't looking for a fighter, I was more interested in you as a potential teacher. See, like Maggie here, I have my own set of little lives that are particularly precious to me, and any advantage I can give them, I gotta at least try." He grinned, "And on that note, I do need to have the briefest of words with the lovely lady here. You're welcome to stick around, of course, nothing especially secretive or earth-shattering."
He let a pleasant smile disguise his active interest as Maggie and Morgan exchanged a meaningful look before Morgan made his excuses and left the two of them by the garden. Negan gestured towards the rocking chairs on a nearby porch, "Shall we?"
"I thought this was gonna be quick. Just say what you've got to say and get on with it," Maggie griped.
"Alright, alright, don't get your pretty knickers in a twist," Negan allowed himself another long leer at the genuinely beautiful woman in front of him now that Morgan wasn't there to judge him for it, "You really are absolutely fucking stunning. Your husband is missing out, not seeing you like this."
"Then take me home."
He clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head, "Can't do that. Gotta keep you and that baby growing healthy and strong, and Alexandria isn't exactly living high on the hog, are they? Hilltop hasn't been as generous as y'all might have hoped, and pickin's are slim. But it truly is a shame, you wear that baby bump really fucking well. Which I will be sure to pass along to your darling baby-daddy when I see him in a few days. Both he and tricky Ricky have been getting especially anxious about you, so… tell me something about Beth."
As he'd hoped, Maggie visibly started at the unexpected name-drop. "How do you know about her?"
"You told me you had a sister," he replied easily. "And I have Daryl. He doesn't share easily, mind you, but I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it," he grinned wolfishly. Let her think what she wants of that. Snarky bitch needs to remember who she's dealing with.
"What did you do to him?"
"Whatever I want. He's mine," Negan growled before pulling back, "Want to see for yourself? He's right outside the gate. Drove me here and everything."
"And you'd just let me talk with him?"
"You can talk at him. Daryl doesn't speak without my fucking say-so. Now, about Beth…"
"Why do you want to know about her?" Maggie bristled.
"Like I said, your hubby is worried about you, starting to think that maybe you're not really tucked away safely. Nervous Nellies like him tend to do very stupid things when they're freaking the fuck out, and we don't want that, now, do we? So, tell me something that I couldn't possibly know unless you decided to share it with me."
"That's not any kind of proof of life. You obviously tortured her name out of Daryl," Maggie fired back, "What's to say anything I tell you couldn't have been gotten the same way."
"Then tell me something about her that even Daryl couldn't know. Although you might have really dig into the memory bank for that one."
"Why? It's not like he really knew her, they barely even spoke to each to each other…" She trailed off, "Did he tell you something different?"
Negan realized he must not be controlling his expression as well as he should be. Understandable, given the fucking giant contradictions. How do two people who 'barely speak' end up married with four kids and big sister doesn't know it? But, to Maggie, he pushed himself to give nothing away, "Not so much in what he said, I just got the impression that he carries a fuck-ton of guilt around where she's concerned."
"Well, he should, he's the one who lost her!" Maggie blurted out, then, realizing what she'd said and who she'd said it to, wrapped her arms protectively around herself and stepped back.
Negan let her have the space. Anything to keep her talking now that her emotions were getting the better of her.
"Why was he responsible for her, if they didn't get along?" he asked, keeping the timber of his voice gentle and non-judgmental.
"She weren't even twenty years old, how was she supposed to fight off – no, we're not doing this! I'm not gonna be the one to give you even more to use against him."
"Maybe he deserves it, failing to protect your baby sister after all. Although, that wasn't really his job, was it? Where were you, Big Sis, when poor defenseless little Bethie needed you most?"
Maggie physically recoiled, his accusing tone clearly striking a nerve. "Shut up! Just… you shut the, the fuck up!" It took all Negan had not to chuckle at the way she stumbled over her words, put too much force behind her cursing; it reminded him of junior high kids trying to sound tough, using words they heard from older kids but having no real experience with foul language forbidden by their parents. Someone really should teach her how it's done.
"My apologies, just trying to wrap my fucking head around your family dynamics," he put up his hand in a conciliatory gesture. "I know, 'fuck off, Negan, it's not my fucking business'… but I am still gonna need something to pass along to the folks back home. How 'bout a happy childhood memory? Something the two of you did as kids that you're planning on passing down to this little one?"
Another guilty expression, and he wasn't sure if it was guilt over giving in to his requests or the memories themselves, but at least this time she wasn't pulling away. It seemed that, for the moment, she was willing to open up, "I – we didn't have a lot in common. She was so much younger and always wantin' to be in the kitchen with her mama or in Daddy's clinic," she began justifying, "Shawn and I were closer in age and even though he was my step-brother, it was just easier, we liked doin' more of the same things, and Bethie was just…"
As Maggie trailed off, Negan nodded sagely, the picture forming more solidly in his mind. There were still a few holes, though. But before he could ask the questions that would help fill the gaps in his understanding, Maggie cut back in, "Don't nod like you know me, like you've got some kinda grand insight into who I am! You know what, we're done, I ain't doin' this. You go on back to Alexandria and you tell 'em whatever the hell you want. I hope they do fight you, I hope they do everythin' you're afraid of 'em doin', 'cause that's what this is," she asserted. "You know if you don't keep my family calm, keep 'em in line, and they fight back, they might just beat you! We can and we will, and the sooner we do, the better. Glenn's gonna find me just like he said he would. You think you can keep them away from me? You think you can keep Daryl beaten down? Well, you can't. And I ain't gonna help you, so you can just go straight to Hell."
Negan chuckled darkly, "Oh, darlin', that's not going to happen. Not at all. See, Glenn isn't going to be looking for you, no matter what he promised that night we first met. Because I made a little promise of my own, and he knows I fucking mean it." He stepped within an inch of Maggie so he could whisper in her ear, "If he tries, if he does make it this far, I will kill you and that precious little life you're carrying. And not one of Ezekiel's people will stop me. Oh, they'll be horrified, but they won't step in. Won't even fucking try. I will gut your belly open right here in this garden, and you can hold what spills out of your belly in your trembling hands while your blood soaks into the dirt and poor, pathetic Glenn kneels beside you, begging you to not to leave him. So you gotta ask yourself," he raised his voice as he stepped back, "Is it really worth it? The temporary satisfaction of firing off those smart-ass remarks from that pretty little mouth of yours. When you think, when you weigh it against what it might cost you down the road… I think you'll realize that the smarter thing to do is to just play nice. Is what I'm asking of you really that fucking terrible? Yeah, I means I fucking win. But let's face it, dear, I already fucking won, and this is just you working your way towards accepting that undeniable fact. And think what you have to gain – Glenn's peace of mind, maybe your own, too. Because the more we talk, the more I share with you about what's going on back home. Aren't you even just the tiniest bit curious about how everyone else is getting along? Or are you that self-centered, Maggie Rhee?"
"You don't get to judge me," she tried to warn.
But Negan wasn't rising to the bait, staying deliberately casual and non-combative, "I can only call 'em like I see 'em. And what I see is your family not making it more than five minutes into any visit I have with them before desperately seeking any fucking scrap of news they can get on you. This is our third conversation. And you have never once asked how they're doing, how they're handling all this shit. Carl's little girlfriend has shown more concern in one 30-second encounter with me for your husband than you have in all the weeks I've known you. It grates on their every last nerve, but Rick, Michonne, Sasha, Glenn, all of them, every week, bending over fucking backwards, swallowing their hatred because it's all they can do to try and get you back home. But you can't be bothered to get through one single conversation without telling me in so many words to fuck off. Because you fully expect them all to risk their lives coming to your rescue. But you aren't willing to sacrifice a few relatively harmless memories to ease their emotional burdens." He chuckled humorlessly, "Wow, when you put it all out there, you really do sound like a selfish little bitch. I'd like to think that's not true. Or at least, that it's not all you are."
He began slowly strolling backwards, putting more distance between himself and Maggie, who stood silent with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, protective or fuming, he couldn't tell. And the longer he observed her, the less he cared. "You know," he offered, "When I first met you, I thought you were going to be so much like this amazing woman I know. You wouldn't think much to look at her, tiny little thing, cute as a fucking kitten and about as ferocious, too. But you get to know her and, my fucking God, her strength, her courage… She'll go toe to toe with anyone, including me, but when she does, it's never about winning with her, it's just about getting to the goddamned heart of things. Because she wants what's fair, what's right for everyone. So when she gets in my face, even when what she has to say pisses me off, I know she's coming from a place of honest-to-fuck truth, and I respect the hell out of her for it. You…" he sighed, "I guess I just expected more. Not fucking fair of me, I guess, comparing you to her, acting like you had something in common. My mistake. But don't you worry your pretty little head, Miss Maggie, I read you fucking loud and clear. You're not interested in sharing with me, and, as it turns out, I'm not nearly as interested in you as I thought I was. So I'll leave you be, for now."
He gave her one last, long look up and down her frame and lifted Lucille in mock salute, "I'll be sure to say hi to Glenn for you. Shame, he really is missing out, not getting to see you like this."
Negan picked up his pace as he headed for the Kingdom's gates, refusing to pause even has he heard Maggie calling out to him from behind. Letting her stew for a few weeks, or months, whenever he decided to come back, wouldn't hurt anything. And being ignored might knock her down a peg or two, make her more receptive to his questioning. He might not have gotten the whole story from her today, but the bits that Maggie had let slip were enough for him to fill in what he needed to know. For Beth to be so much younger than Maggie, to not even be grown when the world turned on its head, then, at the very least, the older children weren't actually her's and Daryl's, and maybe the twins weren't Daryl's either. If there even was a 'Doc & Daryl' relationship to begin with.
So, he grinned widely to himself, she lied.
"We're going to be lucky if we don't blow our fucking hands off with these things," Rosita used both arms to crank the metallic arm of the bullet press.
Abraham plucked the re-made bullet off the press stand and carefully turned it in the light, inspecting the seal between the projectile and the casing. "You want me to be the one who shoots them off when the time comes?"
"No," Rosita groused, coming to stand next to him and holding out her hand. "I'm not afraid to take the shot, I'm just pointing out what should already be pretty fucking obvious to you. We're putting these things together from bits and scraps and reading a dusty manual and hoping to hell we've gotten the measurements right with the gunpowder and shit. But neither one of us really knows the science and this whole thing could go sideways really fucking fast, and we're not going to get another chance if we fuck this one up."
"Alright," Abraham acknowledged, "What do you want to do?"
"We've got to make sure they actually work. We need a test fire. I can do it the next time I go out on a run, take it somewhere out of the way."
"We've only got five bullets, and you want to sacrifice one on a wasted shot?"
"Four bullets we're sure will work are a lot better than five bullets that might be duds, jam in the cartridge, blow out the slide, or about a zillion other things they might do other than hit our target," Rosita was adamant.
Abraham gave it a moment's thought before agreeing, "It's got to be the two of us, though, going out on that run. Unless you plan on using that test-fire to drop Spencer and leave his dead ass for walker food. Which I wouldn't be entirely against, mind you, but if, as you say, shit goes sideways, you can't be out there on your own and injured."
Rosita nodded. "You know who could've pulled this off without a hitch or needing a test-fire?"
"Eugene," they said together with slight, sad smiles on their faces.
Rosita carefully loaded the bullet into the clip with the others they'd made. "He was an irritating pain in the ass to a lot of people, but he was my irritating pain in the ass, and nobody gets to take him from me and then just walk away clean."
"They're not," Abraham vowed, "We stay the course, we can beat these ass-wipes at their own game."
"There's still half a million ways this thing could go wrong."
"And one way it can go right," Abraham wasn't going to be deterred by their odds.
"Five bullets, four if we do the test-fire, isn't going to be enough to bring them all down. And killing Negan alone isn't going to be enough, either."
"Yep, can't outshoot the fuckers," Abraham sounded almost chipper, "Gonna have to out-strategize them. 'Cause if we get this wrong, we'll be even worse – scratch that, they'll be even worse off," he gestured to their unseen community on the other side of Tobin's garage door. "We'll be dead."
"So, either way this goes, our problems are solved. Great, sounds like a win-win for us," Rosita quipped, and they both chuckled softly, comfortable with danger and happy to be back in their old routine, even if it was still a bit awkward between them. "So, what are you thinking? I mean, Negan's death for sure. If we don't take him out, there's no fucking point to any of it."
Abraham rested his back against Tobin's work bench, "You're going to get two clean shots. First shot, everyone's too surprised to move, second shot, they're looking around for the source, but, by the third round, they're going to be over their shock and firing back."
"So first two shots at Negan to make sure he's down?"
Abraham shook his head, "No, you're going to have to take him down with one bullet, and make it the second shot you fire. Get close, he'll let you get a lot closer to him than he'd let me. That's why it has to be you. First shot goes to whoever is closes to me. Second to Negan while I'm getting the guns off the first dead asshole, third and fourth for your escape route. And you need to use those shots to get the fuck out of Dodge so you can turn around and dive back in once I've cleared as many as I can."
"So you're in the thick of it," Rosita pictured the scene in her head. "Then you're a dead man, you've left no exit for yourself."
"That's about the size of it," Abraham grinned softly, "This is a one-and-done for me, darlin'. Truth be told, probably for you, too. But we'll take out as many of the fuckers as we can, and it'll leave Alexandria armed to finish the job."
Rosita nodded and sighed. "Well, as suicide missions go, it's not the stupidest thing we've done. And, hey, we're still here. Who knows? Maybe we'll be happily surprised again."
"I wouldn't count on it."
I'm not," Rosita was well aware the two of them were not likely to walk away from this. "Just putting it out there in the universe. I'm okay with it, really. Just want to make sure we're doing it right. And I'd feel better if we did a test-fire. And if we knew for sure where the Sanctuary was and that we left that intel behind for the others. There's no point firing any shots if we just going to leave our people shooting in the dark."
"Agreed, Rick's whole idea of 'cut off the head of the snake and the body dies' was bullshit from the start. Once we do this, they've got to go in hard and fast, get the whole thing done."
"Maybe they'll even get a chance to get in there and get Daryl, Maggie, and Aaron out," Rosita hoped.
The look on Abraham's face was enough for her to know he had no such positivity.
"Okay, well, first things first, then, we've got to find the place, and second, we have to somehow convince all the Saviors to get within range when they come to Alexandria," Rosita pointed out, "Every time they come here, they spread out all through the subdivision. We can't take them out if they're able to duck behind houses or worse, get to their trucks."
Abraham was nodding before she could even finish her thought – he had already considered this. "What we need," he began slowly, "is to lure them into a central location and have them think they're in control."
"I get that you're trying to walk me to a point that you think I'm not going to like, but since we're both going to die doing this, we're already at worst-case scenario, and it's stuffy and dusty as hell in here," Rosita griped.
"We already know what we need. We've been there before."
Rosita narrowed her eyes, "You're talking about on the road." Abraham nodded, all traces of his usual devil-may-care attitude gone.
"You're talking about us being on our knees, Negan being ready to swing that god-forsaken bat." Rosita grew increasingly incredulous.
"It's the only way they'll all be in one spot, and their guards will be down because they'll think they've won. And they'll all be focused on whoever Negan is about to kill. That's when these bullets can do the most good, because they'll all be in a circle, pretty little ducks lined up in a row. Like shooting fish in a barrel, except it'll be the fish doing the shooting."
"Mixed metaphors aside, you're forgetting the crucial little detail where the only way that happens is if we do something to piss them off, on purpose, and big enough that Negan wants the whole town rounded up and on their knees, and it can't be you, because if you're in the center of the ring on your knees, I won't be able to get a gun to you."
"And it can't be you, because whoever is in the center is going to be frisked, and we'd lose our only gun," Abraham finished her thought for her with a slight grin. "I know. This doesn't work without a third man. Someone who's potential death holds everyone's attention, and I mean everyone's, their side and ours, so we have the maximum amount of time to get shit done."
"They also have to be a goddamned idiot who's willing to possibly get smacked in the head with that stupid bat while I'm lining up my shot!"
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, I've had this part covered for weeks. I know exactly who we need and exactly how to use them."
"If you've known, then – "
"The less you know, the better. You need to look just as surprised as everyone else so the Saviors see you and dismiss you. That's how this works." He put his hands on her shoulders. "This is the final piece of the puzzle, this is what brings it all together. There's risk. And there's sacrifice. But it's worth it, for Eugene. And for everyone who makes it through to keep on fighting another day. We've built the trap. And when we spring it, Negan and all his fucking Saviors are going to be wiped off the face of the fucking planet. Now all we need," Abraham declared darkly, "is bait."
Daryl didn't know it was possible to be glad to see the Sanctuary gates. But, at this point, whatever got him out of this truck and away from Negan was a welcome sight. He didn't know what had happened while Negan was inside the Kingdom, but his whole demeanor had been entirely too gleeful, his ridiculous shit-eating grin stretching wide across his face the entire ride back. He never said a word, just the occasional chuckle to himself. Normally, the fact that the man took great pleasure in a constant stream of innuendo-filled banter. Turned out, his near silence was more off-putting.
Or maybe he was just keyed up after the unexpected chance to pass information on to Rick, who hopefully would pick up on his clue about Beth and have the good sense to keep it to himself. It was the first time since that night on the road that Daryl felt like he was actually able to do something to help his family, but both the high from pulling it off and the frustration at not being able to do more set his emotions on edge, had him bouncing in his skin with nervous energy he didn't know how to contain.
Whatever the reason, he was practically leaping from the driver's seat the moment he shut off the truck's engine.
"Don't know what the fuck you're so excited about, never pictured you as a man who loved dish duty. Thank fuck we didn't miss lunch!" Negan's back was already to him as he sauntered towards the factory's main entrance.
Daryl didn't see any point following when he could get to the kitchen area just as quickly taking the side door by the garage.
He heard the hushed voices off the side hall near the main factory floor and was perfectly content to dismiss them as being none of his business. He'd had more than his fair share of Negan's company today and had no intention of putting himself in a situation where he might be forced to spend even more time with the lead Savior.
It was the high-pitched but quiet yelp that drew him back. It was a sound he'd made enough times himself as a child, trying to choke down pain-filled cries whenever his old man laid into him.
"No more excuses, you've gotten everything you asked for and more than enough fucking time to get it done!"
The vast majority of the factory's halls were clean and in pristine condition per Negan's orders, but this hall was obviously off his radar – a dusty, dark corridor being used as an impromptu storage space for randomly-placed pieces of broken furniture.
"Please, I'm doing everything you said," the woman's pleas were louder than Daryl expected as he carefully eased down the hall towards the voices. Too loud for being as close to the open area where everyone was congregating for the midday meal. Maybe that's what she wants, he mused as he carefully sidestepped a metal chair with only three legs collapsed on its side, draw attention and be able to say it was an accident.
"If you'd done everything like we said, you'd have been done weeks ago," the man's voice snarled back.
"You can't just slap it together, otherwise you wouldn't have needed me in the first place," her voice was still tremulous but with an edge of backbone to it, "The compounds you got me are all from different sites, different exposure to varying temperatures, sunlight, everything decaying at different rates… the chemistry has to be exact or you won't get what you want. Please, I'm trying to get you what you want," she implored.
Daryl was no expert in much of anything beyond the woods or fixing cars, but he knew enough to put two and two together. He'd heard similar complaints before, from Eugene. The fuckers are building a bomb. Scratch that – they're making her build a bomb. He'd finally gotten himself close enough to the small enclave around the corner from where the voices emerged and could, with quick, careful glances, make out the couple arguing, the man holding a frightened and whimpering boy of about eight years old with a clenching, white-knuckled grip around his upper arm.
"… test it," the woman was going on, "You said it yourself, you weren't happy with what happened at the outpost. Too much fire, not enough force. I need more time, need to run more calculations, or it's – "
"Today." The man cut her off, not even bothering to whisper. "No more time, no more delays. We're done waiting. Today. Get it in place, make it happen. And just to be sure, little Isaac's going to stay with me this afternoon."
"No, please," she shook her head. "If… if he's not at school, people will notice," she tried appealing to logic.
"No. I'm going to keep watch on the roof, and the boy will keep me company. And if you don't get it done, the boy is going to have himself a tragic accident."
Daryl had heard enough. They were connected to the outpost attack and whatever was going on within the Saviors. He didn't need their names – he knew where the man would be this afternoon, and he knew enough of what they were planning. Best to just take it to Negan and let him deal with it from there. Negan was a prick, but he was a prick with a soft spot for women and kids, he'd make sure the woman and her son were taken care of, and maybe this would buy enough goodwill to make things a little easier on Rick and the others.
And he was turning on his heel to do just that when the boy's sudden crying-out in pain and the woman's begging, "Stop it, you're hurting him!" had Daryl spinning full circle and around the corner before he was fully aware of his own actions. By the time his thoughts caught up with his body, he was already pulling the boy out of the man's iron grip and propelling him down the hallway towards the main area of the compound.
They seemed to come out of nowhere.
You really are a stupid, impulsive, son of a bitch, Daryl thought to himself as the two men he hadn't seen or heard teamed up with the one he'd been aware of and started forcing him to the ground with a rapid-fire series of punches and kicks that he knew would have him favoring his ribs for days to come.
Meanwhile, the woman was just standing there, dumbstruck. Gotta at least try to salvage something from this fuck-up. "Get to Negan," he called out to her with a grunt as he took another punch to his kidney.
He didn't get a chance to see whether she'd left or not as a well-placed kick finally got the better of his balance and he hit the ground at a roll.
"What the fucking fuckity fuck is going on here?" Negan roared from the other end of the hall, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "Break it up, goddammit! I said, break it the fuck up!" he yelled as he stomped towards them, a small entourage of Saviors trailing after him. "And get some goddamned lights turned on," he added as an after-thought.
Daryl slowing pulled himself onto his hands and knees, trying to get a handle on his breathing and discretely looking around to see what he was dealing with. The woman was still there, frozen in place with her arms wrapped around her belly. Her boy hadn't gotten all that far, either, lying on the ground and curling in on himself under a discarded metal shelving unit just a few feet from where Daryl knelt.
As one, the three men behind Daryl began talking over each other, each vying to be the first to get Negan's attention, but he silenced them all with a firm, "No," Lucille pointed squarely in their direction.
Negan stopped in front of the shelves and dropped to a crouch, keeping Lucille upright in his grip with her barbed end on the floor. "Hey, buddy," his voice was gentle, "you think you can come out of there on your own? Or do you need a little help?" he offered his hand.
It seemed to take ages, the boy slowing inching his way to the edge of the shelf, and then finally pushing himself upright and using the shelf to pull himself standing, but Negan stayed put without the slightest indication of impatience, as if he had all the time in the world.
Negan's smile was soft and his voice was kind and easy-going, "Don't think we've met before. I'm Negan. You got a name, kid?"
"Isaac," was the barely-there whispered reply.
"Isaac," Negan repeated in acknowledgement. "Your wrist looks pretty banged up. Did that just happen?"
The boy gave a shaky affirmative nod.
"Isaac, do you know the rules?" At his quick nod, Negan continued, "So you know, it's important to tell me the truth. We do not lie. Isaac," Negan lifted Lucille and pointed to where Daryl was kneeling, "Did he do that?" he asked, tipping his head to the boy's red, swelling wrist.
Isaac's negative head shake was almost imperceptible for the fearful tremors running through his skinny frame, his breath coming in small, quick gasps.
"Okay," Negan kept his voice at a near-whisper. "How about that spot on your arm?" He gestured to the red hand-print partially visible under the edge of his t-shirt sleeve. "Did he do that?"
His head shake was a little more confident the second time around.
"Alright, does anything else hurt?"
At this, Isaac paused, pursing his lips and breathing heavily through his nose, his agitation increasing with each passing second.
"That's okay," Negan soothed. "Let's try something else. That lady over there, she's your Mom, right?"
At the boy's nod and slightly calmer features, Negan continued, "Has she ever hurt you? Maybe get real mad and grab your arm a little too tight?"
Isaac shook his head emphatically and whimpered out a quiet but certain, "No."
"Good, that's good. How about baldy over there, wow, the light just shines off the top of that big bald noggin of his, that's your Dad, right? Has he ever hurt you?"
"This is – I have never laid a hand on my son!" the man in question shouted indignantly, "I've never hit my wife, either! This son of a bitch," he kicked Daryl's leg, "grabs my kid out of fucking nowhere, throws him down the hallway, slams him into the wall! Probably broke his wrist! He's scared, confused, doesn't know what – "
"Enough," Negan's voice wasn't loud, but it carried enough weight to stop the man short. "You will get your say. And the truth, whatever it is, will come out. But right now, I am talking to Isaac, and you will shut the fuck up and wait your turn."
Throughout the entire exchange, Isaac pursed his lips so tightly that they seemed to disappear entirely, his whole body shaking as he pulled his arms tighter around himself, whimpering when he accidentally put pressure on his injured wrist.
"Okay, okay, that's alright," Negan stopped himself short and tipped his head. The boy's movements had caused his t-shirt to ride up slightly. It was barely an inch of his midriff exposed, but it was enough to catch the man's eye. From Negan's vantage point, Daryl knew, he could only see the beginning edge of the red mark, but Daryl was better placed to see how the welt wrapped around the boy's side and around his back.
Daryl watched in silence as Negan internally debated his next move. Nodding to himself decisively, the lead Savior quirked a small grin and tipped his head, "Hey, buddy, I need your attention, because this here is the most important question. You ready? Do you like strawberry?"
Isaac was taken aback by the seemingly random question, and it was enough to steady his breathing and ease his tremors for the moment. He gave a small nod.
Negan's smile grew, "And have you ever had Ms. Janet's famous homemade strawberry taffy?"
"Uh-uh," Isaac shook his head.
"Oh, kid, you don't know what you're missing! I married her for those taffies alone!" He winked. "And I happen to know," he dropped his voice down as if revealing a great secret, "That a certain friend of mind, who just happens to be standing behind me and whose name is Murphy," he pointed over his shoulder, "tends to carry a handful of those amazing homemade strawberry taffies in his pocket."
Negan turned to face Murphy, who stood near the wall between Negan and the group still surrounding Daryl. "Say, good buddy Murphy, you wouldn't happen to have a couple of those delicious sweets I could share with my new friend here, would you?" The expression on Negan's face could only be described as 'puppy-dog eyes', but no one in the hallway was going to call him out on it.
Murphy allowed himself an easy grin as he handed over the requested treats, with Negan eagerly grabbing one and Isaac reaching hesitantly for the other.
"Didn't I tell you, kid? They are the best! So, here's what I'm thinking," Negan spoke around noisy, slurping chomps on the candy, "I gotta stay here and deal with this mess. But Murphy, here, is going to walk you down to the infirmary, where my good buddy Doc is going to take good care of that wrist and any other hurt spots. She's got this cream that's cool and tingly all at once and, oh, it's gonna make you feel ten times better."
"Think I heard someone say my name," Beth breezed down the hall as if it were an everyday occurrence to find Negan on the ground with an injured child and a dozen adults standing around awkwardly observing.
"Hey, Doc, you are right on time," Negan commented. "This is my new buddy, Isaac, and his wrist hurts."
"I can see that," Beth nodded in concern.
"Murphy was just about to walk him down to you, and I'm thinking his Mom should tag along as well. And since they're both going to be there already, give 'em both a full exam, head to toe."
Apparently unable to keep silent any longer, Isaac's father stepped forward, "Before this goes any further, I want it known, with everyone here as witnesses – I said it before and I'm saying it again, there's not a mark on my wife's body. And I don't beat my son. I know what you saw under the edge of his shirt, and I can explain. Everything else comes from this bastard slamming him into the wall! And I want him punished for putting his hands on my boy, and the rest of us when we tried to stop him. And I don't trust her –" he pointed angrily at Beth, "doing any kind of exam when she's married to this freak and will do whatever she can to cover his ass!"
Negan's expression was dark as he used Lucille to pull himself to his feet, "When this is done, no matter how it turns out, you and I are going to have a chat, and you're not going to like how it goes, because I have already fucking told you not to interrupt me. And nobody tells me how to run my Sanctuary," he growled. "For the sake of fairness," he turned to Beth, "Murphy's gonna hang out with you, maybe share a few more of his sweets. And I want Savannah there too, as my eyes and ears," Negan's voice had a dangerous edge to it now.
"You got it," Beth readily agreed but couldn't keep her eyes from drifting to Daryl, still on his hands and knees, blood dripping from his nose and split lip onto both his sweatshirt and the floor.
"Nuh-uh, don't even bother. He's mine to deal with."
Beth hesitated as if she wanted to say something, but then dropped her eyes to the ground and nodded before turning and leading the way to her infirmary with Murphy and Isaac trailing close behind.
Negan turned to the woman, who'd been silently observing the entire time, "Go with your boy," he ordered quietly.
"Should I… Is it alright if I take my things?"
"Of course," Negan agreed easily. And under everyone's watchful gazes, the woman carefully reached for her shoulder bag, wincing slightly as she stood and adjusted her grip on its strap.
It's in there, Daryl realized, whatever they've had her working on, it's in that bag. He still kept his mouth shut, biding his time. He'd been stupid, jumping in the way he had and bringing unwanted attention to both himself and the situation. But her hanging onto the bag was a good thing. Negan was bound to question him sooner rather than later, and, if he was right, the bag held all the proof he needed. As long as she had it, these guys didn't, and couldn't do anything with it.
"Hey, Doc," Negan's unexpected shout jerked Daryl from his thoughts. He waited until she turned around before adding, "Give her an ultrasound while you're at it."
"She's not pregnant," the man protested, and the woman quickly confirmed, "I'm not."
But Negan just stared until Beth agreed at the unusual request before waving the group on again. Once they had turned down the main corridor, he stepped past Daryl and stood toe to toe with Isaac's father. "Right now, this whole shit-storm is standing between me and my lunch. So you have thirty seconds to give me that explanation you promised and, more importantly, to convince me to not have Lucille take your face off right fucking here and now."
The man gulped nervously before launching into a rapid response, "Isaac has panic attacks. Bad ones. We never know when they're coming, just, out of the blue, he, he freaks out, lashes out, hurts himself and anyone who gets too close without even knowing what he's doing. You don't know – what it's like out there, for a kid, and he's always been sensitive… We didn't want to say anything when we first arrived, didn't want him being treated differently, didn't want to risk you throwing us out if you knew how, well, just how violent they can be. But they were getting better since we came here. Until he came," he tipped his head towards Daryl. "Isaac saw him at the school, and some of the older kids told him about Alexandria and what they'd done, and it all started up again. He's not a bad kid, he just can't control it, and sometimes… sometimes, all we can do is hold him down, restrain him, just to keep him from hurting himself or someone else. That's what you saw."
"So, if I'm hearing this right," Negan began with more than a healthy amount of skepticism in his voice, "You send your child into my schoolhouse every day, and at any minute, he could go flying off the handle and hurt himself or his classmates? And you didn't think that, maybe, somebody needed to know that? His teacher, at least?"
"I know, it's what Ruby and I were fighting about, just before all this. And, I tell you, to be fair, maybe Dixon heard us arguing and misconstrued the whole thing, thought he was protecting the boy," he shrugged.
Negan nodded slightly, "I appreciate your willingness to consider that possibility. Now, there is something else I want you to consider. There are very few things in the world that I can't see my way to forgiving. Very few. We've all had to do things to survive, to protect what's ours. So, a lot of shit that would have landed you in front of a judge and jury in the old days, I get it. But what I absolutely, cannot, motherfucking stand," he dropped his voice register lower with each item on his list, "Rape. Beating your wife. Beating a kid. And lying to me."
He pressed forward until his nose was nearly brushing against the other man's, "Those things, I will not forgive. And I will not let go. If there is anything you need to tell me, anything you want to clear off your conscience, this is your only chance."
After a beat of silence, Negan continued, "Okay. I gave you a concession earlier, out of fairness, and now, you're going to give me one. Until this is done, you're taking a time out in the box. You two," he turned to the other men who'd been standing with him, "where are you supposed to be right now?"
"North-side field, weeding," one mumbled. "I've got the afternoon free," the other offered, "but Craig's supposed to be on rooftop watch, I can take his spot until this is settled."
"Go on, then," Negan waved them both off.
"What about him?" Isaac's father had the nerve to nudge his foot at Daryl yet again.
Even from his spot on the floor, Daryl could see the irritated look Negan gave the man, "Connor, take this one to Daryl's cell and then bring Daryl to me in the conference room. Where I'll be eating my lunch in what had damn well better be a few moments of motherfucking peace and quiet."
Connor kept both men in front of him as they traversed the series of hallways leading to the cell. He didn't say a word until after he'd secured the other man inside, hung the key back on its hook next to the door, and then led Daryl to the far end of the hall. "Whatever you've got to say for yourself," he began in his lilting Irish as they kept moving towards Negan's office and conference rooms, "It'd better be fucking good. Because Beth's a friend. And my brother and I are getting fucking sick and tired of watching her get jerked around in all this."
Daryl nodded silently, not knowing exactly how to respond but fully agreeing with the sentiment.
"The little ones, too," Connor continued. "Not that we mind looking after them in the evenings, they're great fun to have around. But they're losing time with their Mum, not fucking fair to any of them." He stopped Daryl short with a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around and backing him against the wall, "If you're not planning on doing something about that, you bloody well ought to be." Daryl briefly met Connor's gaze, nodded, and then dropped his head again.
Seemingly satisfied, Connor nudged him towards the nearby door. "In there."
Daryl opened the door to a room furnished with a rectangular table and several chairs, but only one occupant. Negan sat at the head of the table, Lucille at his side and a thick sandwich in both hands. He kept eating until Daryl had closed the door behind him and came to stand near the table's midpoint before finally putting the sandwich down on the plate and making no effort to hide his exasperation, "The fuck, Daryl?"
"Whatever it is ya think's goin' on, it's gonna happen today."
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