Wars

by themuse123

Alexandria's time is dwindling. Running low on food and ammo, they face destruction at the hands of the Wolves. It seems their only option is to send scouts out for medical supplies and a place to manufacture bullets, to fight until their last breath. Until they discover a community that may be able to turn the tides of the war. [discontinued]

20. Sleep

A/N: Hello, all! Got a pretty intense one for you, so with that, I'll just warn that there are a few scenes that get a little gory and violent. We're going old-school emo with this chapter's song, which is "Sleep" by My Chemical Romance. As always, thank you so much to my readers and reviewers, your support means the world to me! Hope you enjoy.

20. Second Interlude, pt. 3: Sleep

The first thing Mason felt when consciousness returned was the wind rushing through her hair. It stung her eyes as she blinked them open.

"Finally awake, huh?"

Groggy with pain, her first thought was, Oh, god, Elder Scrolls.

Then her eyes focused on Everett, sitting across from her. They were in the bed of a truck, her hands zip tied behind her back. Three other men sat around them. The one on her right was Adam.

Everything rushed back in a blistering wave. The gunshot, Everett whistling to the Saviors, and Monty, Monty…

Tears burned the back of her throat, and the rest of her burned with vengeance. With every ounce of restraint she possessed, she concentrated on the throbbing in her head and arm. Let them think she was too weak to move.

Still, she couldn't help saying, "You fucking coward."

Everett laughed. She'd never seen him so at ease. Bastard truly had found his people.

"Maybe I'm just smarter than you," he said. "I mean, you bought that half-assed lie about letting Kurt escape. That fucker could never get the jump on me, are you kidding? I cut the zip ties. I brought Ava to him."

A snarl broke through her defenses. The other men tensed and Adam pointed a gun at her. A shadow of apprehension lingered on his face, but otherwise he seemed pretty confident that gun would save him.

"Yeah, that's right," Everett sneered. "You all should have listened to me before. All this shit could've been avoided. But I'm tired of trying to convince you people. I sure as hell won't let you drag me down with you."

Mason's gaze flicked to the cab window. She could see three men sitting inside, which made a total of seven Saviors. Everyone in the back had guns. Everett had her fire iron slung casually over one shoulder. Panic crept up her spine.

Improvise. Jesus's words came back to her like a lifeline. Your surroundings can get you out of some tight spots if you know how to use them.

Yes. Use everything you could use. Right.

But what the fuck could she use?

"So…you're taking me to the Sanctuary?" she asked, to buy herself some time.

"Finally decided to use that brain?" Everett said. "It's a lucky day for both of us. Negan wants to meet us. Of course, my guess is this meeting is gonna go a little better for me…"

"He wants me alive?"

"Ideally. Don't let that give you any ideas, though. We won't…"

She tuned him out as the truck slowed. They were about to turn right down a side road, so little used the forest on either side had nearly reclaimed it.

As she leaned over to get a better look, her shoulder bumped the bed wall and pain shot up her collarbone. The wound had been wrapped, she realized, although shoddily. A bit of fresh red welled through the fabric and she blinked.

You've…done that before? Used your blood?

It was all I had.

She allowed only the briefest memory of this conversation, of Beth, before locking it up again.

Then, as the truck made the turn, she threw herself into the momentum and slammed the wound against the wall, opening it completely. She hissed, not entirely faking her dizziness as her body slumped.

"She's bleeding again," Adam said.

Everett rolled his eyes. "Well, you can sit there staring at her or you can tighten her bandages."

Adam gave her a warning look so she hammed up the agony a bit, face pinching in an expression she hoped wasn't too stagey. He leaned closer and she slouched lower, putting his body between her and the other men.

When his hands touched her wrappings, she lunged and sank her teeth into the side of his neck.

It was harder than she thought it would be to breach the skin, but she did it. The muscles pulled taut between her teeth and then her mouth filled with blood.

He screamed. His gun dropped onto her stomach, but she didn't grab it. Not yet. Everett and the others shouted, lurching forward to intervene. Ignoring the heat in her shoulder, she released Adam's throat, hoisted her feet under his squirming frame and kicked him into the men.

The truck bounced over the rocky side road, moving slower than it had on the highway. She wriggled, dumping the gun to the floor, then twisted to grab it with her bound fingers. Everett and the two Saviors were already recovering, shoving Adam unceremoniously off of them. Heart pounding, she scrambled over the tailgate.

The road received her unforgivingly. The breath coughed out of her. Rocks cut her arm and ribs. By some stroke of luck, she held onto the gun.

The truck stopped.

Fucking move.

It took a moment of desperate inchworming before she rolled into the safety of the overgrown ditch. Gunshots sounded a second later.

On your feet. On your fucking feet.

Using the slope of the ditch for leverage, she wobbled to her feet and took off running. Bullets seared the air around her. Crashing footsteps gave chase through the woods as she stumbled back the way they'd come. Her whole body was one big agony but she pushed herself faster, faster, until the voices began to fade behind her.

The walker came out of nowhere. She tried to swerve, but it collapsed into her left flank and sent them both to the ground.

Its weight crushed her. It wasn't enormous, but it was tall; its neck mashed against her face as it clawed at the ground, trying to squirm into a biting position.

Just beyond the arch of its shoulder blade, Mason spotted more of the dead staggering in their direction.

For the second time, her mind flashed on the bus in Georgia, and one of many discussions on how to get past the walkers surrounding them.

Walker blood? Really?

Yeah, my group's done it before. Cover yourself in guts and they can't smell you.

Walker blood. Right. Except her hands weren't free to cut it open, and the others were closing in.

But she supposed she didn't necessarily need hands.

With such loud revulsion it felt as though she shouted it, she thought, Fuck, before turning her head and sinking her teeth in the walker's throat.

This skin gave much more easily. The spill of blood that followed was thick and slimy and tasted of rot. Bile rose in her throat. She let go once the wound was gushing, and shimmied her body up so that the spew could cover as much of her as possible. It was a move that risked biting radius, but her legs continued to kick as she moved, bouncing the body just far enough out of range and showering her with swampy blood.

She stood, heaving and half-wild as the walkers converged. They sniffed curiously and passed her without a second glance. She allowed only a moment of relief before launching back into action. Before anything else, she had to get out of this fucking zip tie.

She cast about for something sharp, something sturdy, but saw nothing. Her eyes landed on her sacrificial walker. Its attempts to right itself had slowed somewhat, as had the blood from its neck.

Spitting roughly, she brought her boot down on its back leg until the bone snapped. She glanced behind her, heart fluttering as she scanned for any sign of the Saviors. Nothing yet, but they had to be closing in. Probably moving quieter now they thought they'd lost her.

It was a bitch maneuvering the bone through the plastic loop where her wrists met. But finally, after straining and thrashing, the broken end severed the zip tie and she fell free.

Wasting no time, she scooped up her gun and ducked behind a tree. She checked the magazine while she waited. Twelve rounds. Plenty, if allowed the chance to actually use it.

Only a few minutes passed before she caught the crackle of leaves underfoot. They hesitated as they neared the walker and she readied herself.

A Savior stepped into view, so close to her hiding spot she could smell his sweat. Dirty blond hair, sharp, rat-like features. Rode in the truck bed with her, but beyond that, not one she recognized.

He turned, opening his mouth to call to someone.

She yanked him toward her and pressed the gun to his crotch.

"You wanna be castrated by a gun?" she whispered in his ear. He shivered, lips thin with fear and rage. "Don't speak. Just move your head. They see you over here?"

He shook his head.

"Good. Now call out to Everett. Don't say anything else. Just his name."

He wet his lips, hesitated. She ground the muzzle of the gun more painfully against him.

"Call out to him, and you get to keep everything intact."

"Everett!" he hollered.

An answering call came from somewhere deeper in the woods.

"Good. Now say, 'I've got the bitch. She's over here.'"

"I've got the bitch. She's over here."

"Good job."

Footsteps hurried toward them. She waited until they were nearly upon her, then raised the gun to the blond man's head. His eyes flashed wide, but she shot him before he could utter a word.

"Didn't say anything about letting you keep your life," she murmured.

"Reid!" Everett rushed into view on her other side. "The fuck was—"

She whirled, pausing only to take aim.

His scream echoed through the woods as she took out both his kneecaps.

More shouts sounded from the trees. Mason ripped her fire iron from Everett's back and struck him over the head with it.

"Reid!"

"It came from this way, man."

Figures, moving closer. On her right, the walkers turned back, alerted by the noise. She glided in among them, humming to keep them ensconced around her.

The Saviors didn't pay attention to them at first, distracted by Everett's prone form and Reid's body, which the grounded walker had begun feasting on.

One of them knelt by Everett. "He's still breathing."

"Girl can't be far. Spread out. Dante, take care of those, we don't need to be fending them off, too."

A stocky, balding man approached her flock, knife drawn to dispatch them. She was so covered in dead blood he didn't pick her out of the crowd.

Mason thrust her iron out, one quick jab through his leg.

He fell with a cry and the dead fell with him, tearing at his flesh.

"Shit—Dante, what the hell?"

The Saviors turned. She saw the exact moment they realized her gore-stained silhouette didn't belong with the feasting dead. Pitiless satisfaction brimmed in her, drowning everything else.

She shot the closest right between the eyes before the other two returned fire. She dove back to the cover of her tree, reaching for the lowest branch to pull herself up. It was easier now, even with the wound in her shoulder, to scale the branches. She'd have to write Jesus a thank you letter or something.

Bark exploded in little puffs below her, then stopped. She halted where she was, muscles trembling with the effort of staying still. The Saviors hadn't realized where she'd gone yet. She watched them creep closer, one on either side of the trunk, and gingerly readied her gun.

"Where… Did we get her?"

"Do you see a fucking body?"

Mason took the first shot, dropping the man on her left. The last Savior jumped back, cursing. His eyes barely grazed her before she took him out, too.

A few moments passed. She listened to the silence of the forest, broken only by the squelch of shearing flesh as the walkers continued their meal. No one else appeared. She could not account for Adam, who was probably back at the truck. By now, she hoped he'd bled out. But the others were dead. Somehow, she'd killed them all.

Exhaustion swept over her in a brutal wave. She could feel each pain in her body quite distinctly now, little violent storm systems billowing under her skin. She slithered to the ground, wincing with each bump and scrape.

Everett remained splayed on the ground; the walkers hadn't gotten to him yet. Foggy-brained and quivery-kneed, she removed his shirt and cut it into strips. She tied them around his wrists, his ankles, his bleeding knees, and as an afterthought, his mouth and eyes. He groaned while she worked but didn't wake.

Once he was properly bound, she scooped her hands under his arms and began the long, arduous trek back home.

~m~

A patrol met her halfway back—Ezekiel, Jerry, Dave, Kelsey and Renee. The sight of them brought unexpected tears to her eyes.

"Lady Mason!" Ezekiel cried.

Mason dropped Everett and tried to relax. She had backup now. She was okay.

"Holy shit, you wrestle a lawnmower or something?" Renee asked, inspecting her with wide eyes.

"Saviors. Six of them, plus Everett," she mumbled, flinching as Renee's fingers brushed over her wounded shoulder.

"Where are they now?" Dave raised his gun, scanning the trees like they might be right behind her.

"Hell, if there's any justice." Everyone stared, so she elaborated. "I killed them."

"All of them? By yourself?"

She swayed, unable to answer.

"Oh, sweetheart," Kelsey said and swept her into a gentle hug. Mason just stood there numbly, wishing she could move her arms.

"We found Monty," Ezekiel said. Sorrow made his voice raw.

Mason stiffened, even as the grief made her feel weak as a wilting flower. She pulled away from Kelsey.

"Does…does Dray know?" She could barely move her lips.

"Not yet," Dave replied, so softly it brought those tears back.

She closed her eyes. Refused to picture Monty's body, or worse, moments before he'd been shot. He'd been trying to help her. He'd been trying to help her…

Renee and Dave walked on either side of Mason, supporting her when she needed it. Ezekiel dragged Everett behind him, going to absolutely no lengths to be gentle about it. Jerry and Kelsey kept watch at the rear, but they encountered no one until they reached the gate.

The Misfits waited on the other side, plus most of the community. Everyone gathered close, shouting questions, but Mason saw no one else but Dray. The hope and concern in his eyes as they met hers, which faded as he took in her expression, Monty's absence.

He blinked. Shook his head. "Where…"

Mason tried to swallow and couldn't. Dray wavered, or her vision did, or the world did.

He shook his head again, more firmly this time. "No. No."

The Misfits watched uneasily. Mason reached for him, but he stepped past her.

"No. I need to see him. Where is he?"

"Dray."

She grabbed his arm. He spun, all traces of his usual serenity gone.

"Where is he, Mason?"

"Dray, he's…he's gone. I'm sorry. He's gone." Her voice broke on the last word.

His face crumpled, and then his body. Mason caught him, held him up with the last of her waning strength as the sobs rolled through him. The pain in her was worse than any bullet wound.

"Charlie," he finally wept. The sound was a fracture in Mason's heart. "I want Charlie."

"Okay. It's okay," she murmured. "She's right here."

She stepped back to let Charlie take him in her arms, gripping him so fiercely the muscles stood out under her skin.

Mason twitched when someone called her name. She looked up to see Dr. Ellis approaching, brows furrowed in concern.

"Renee said you were in a rough way and she certainly wasn't exaggerating. Let's get you fixed up, alright?"

"I…I need to stay…"

"My Lady." Ezekiel reached out to touch her shoulder, then thought better of it. "Tend to your injuries. You can do no more here, nor would I allow you to try. Rest."

Rest. It sounded like a foreign word.

But in one blink she was in the infirmary, and in the next she was in her bathroom, peeling off her blood-soaked clothes. Her shoulder twinged something awful. She'd cleaned her wounds in Dr. Ellis' sink so he could treat them, but the rest of her was a fucking mess. She paused before stepping in the shower, shocked by the specter in the mirror. Trails of dead blood lined her face, but below her mouth, she could still see the curtain of Adam's blood crusted there.

She looked like one of them. She looked like a walker.

Her stomach churned and she gagged, whirling for the toilet.

She kept her eyes shut tight while she retched. Tried not to see it. Tried not to see if there was blood there, too.

The shower felt small and safe. She turned the water up as hot as it would go, wishing to burn everything away. The blood washed down the drain in dark swirls.

~m~

Everett's execution was held within the walls that evening.

Mason assumed immediately that she would be the one to do it, but Ezekiel forbade it.

"No longer" were his exact words. She wondered what that meant, but his tone made her reluctant to argue, and she was too tired to question it, anyway.

Almost everyone gathered for it, hissing curses as Everett was forced to kneel before them. He barely managed it on those injured kneecaps, face flushed with agony, tears leaking from his eyes. Still, he made a point to sneer at the crowd.

Ezekiel said a few words condemning Everett to his fate, and then Dray stepped forward. His expression was haggard, his eyes bloodshot. Mason blinked at the gun in his hands, realizing he must have requested to do this.

He held it up, pointed it at Everett. His hands shook.

"You…" He trailed off, lips quivering. Tears glistened on his cheeks and he staggered back. "Fuck."

Instantly Charlie was there. Gentler than Mason had ever seen her, she took the gun from Dray, murmuring something in his ear. He nodded.

There was no hesitation in Charlie. She turned, flint-eyed and straight-spined, and shot Everett through the head.

They took Dray back to the house, where Tanner and Ashlee waited with Ava. Mason couldn't blame them for opting out this time. They gathered in the living room, lowering Dray to the couch, holding him close. Mason hung back, thinking that this was fast becoming a tradition and she'd really rather it wasn't.

Ava eyed her warily from across the room. Mason tried to smile, failed miserably. She waved instead.

After a pause, Ava waved back. Then, hesitantly, she approached.

She took in all of Mason's bandages, then pointed to the one on her shoulder.

"Did you get hurted?"

"A little bit. But I'm okay."

"Everbody's sad."

"Yeah. We are."

"Why?"

Mason bit her lip, unsure of how much to tell her, or if she would even understand. "Well…Dray just…just lost his dad."

Ava played absently with the buckle of her overalls. "Oh, like I lost Mommy?"

"Y-yes."

Ava nodded. Then she turned and squeezed through the crowd of Misfits until she reached Dray. She wrapped her tiny arms around him, and he jumped a little, so lost in his tears he hadn't noticed her till then.

"Oh. Ava," he rasped, and pulled her close.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Mason swung back into the kitchen and slid to the floor, choking on sobs. In her head, Monty was calling out to her as she walked through his front door, the same way he did with Dray. He was making bread side by side with Elisha, he was making dad jokes for Mason to laugh at and Dray to cringe at.

He was hugging her when she finally confessed she was homeless, telling her everything was going to be alright.

He was hugging her up on the watch post, telling her they would figure it all out.

He was saying she wasn't alone, she wasn't alone, she wasn't alone…

Get a grip. Dray needs you.

Right. That was right. Her own grief didn't matter right now. He was Dray's father, not hers. Impatiently she wiped the tears from her face, but when it became apparent they weren't stopping any time soon, she made do with simply composing her features.

She returned to the Misfits, taking a seat on the floor where she could find room and resting her head against Dray's leg.

~m~

There were no attacks in the weeks that followed. Mason led a patrol to the road where she'd escaped the Saviors. The truck was gone, but Adam's body lay in the ditch. Someone had stabbed him in the head, but not before he'd turned.

She retraced her steps through the woods, but the bodies that remained had been stripped clean of their weapons, likely by their own men.

Mason tried not to let this get to her. Seven of them were dead now. They'd gotten the chance to execute Everett for his treachery. That had to count for something, no matter how small.

She learned shoulder wounds ached constantly. She also learned that ingesting walker blood had the same effect as food poisoning, though only for a day or two.

Sleep became a nightly fight. Whenever she managed it, her mind flooded with nightmare images that sent her crawling back to consciousness.

It was on one of these nights, after waking in a cold sweat, that she found Dray sitting in the tub, poking something sharp at his arm.

Alarm swept through her, along with a dozen serrated memories, until she saw that the object in his fingers wasn't a razor but a needle, and that the trail it left behind was soft yellow.

A tattoo. Mason let out a gusty sigh.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't." Dray didn't look up, too focused on whatever he was drawing.

Mason drummed her fingers on her leg. Though she was relieved he was giving himself a tattoo and not…well, not doing what she'd jumped to conclusions about, she wasn't sure if she should leave him alone or not.

"Can, um…can I sit with you?"

"Yes." His voice was dull, robotic.

She sat on the edge of the tub, leaning over to watch the image reveal itself.

She wasn't unfamiliar with the stick and poke process. The little black arrow on her right wrist was a result of it. Lily had given it to her, just as Mason had given one to Dave, and Dave had given one to Lily. All of the Misfits bore matching arrows because they thought giving them to each other would be more meaningful. Plus, they were broke as fuck.

Because the arrows were only a few black lines, none of them had turned out terrible. But whatever Dray was making was much more than that.

"It's a…flower?" she finally guessed.

"Daffodil. They were his favorite."

Her throat tightened. She remembered that. He'd tried to plant some outside the front windows but their dog, Crisco, always dug them up.

"Oh. Right."

She tried to think of something to say, but everything that came to mind felt painful. A long silence passed.

"He was going to be my very first customer," Dray said. By then he had two and a half petals done. "When I finally got around to owning that studio I always talked about. He said he'd pay even though I didn't want him to."

She nodded. "He was so proud of you. You know those times I would make it to your house before you? He'd always catch me up to date on how you were doing in school, or how your latest art project was going. It was a lot of stuff I'd already heard from you, but it was really sweet, so I acted surprised."

Dray smiled briefly. "He did the same with me about you. I bet you didn't know that."

She swallowed. She hadn't known that.

"He was such a good man, Mason. I know you already know that, but…he was so good. There was no one else like him."

He'd paused in his tattooing, so she reached out and took his free hand.

"But you are so much like him," she said. "You are. You were lucky to have him as a dad, and he was lucky to have you as a son."

Dray let out a ragged breath and pressed their entwined hands to his temple. They stayed like that for a while, before he sniffed loudly and let go.

"Once I find that studio, I'll fill this in properly," he said, returning to the flower.

"I'll find one for you," Mason promised.

~m~

"Rally, my Kingdom! Do not let the curs at our backs!"

Ezekiel's cry sounded over scattered gunshots as Mason slammed hard onto the scorching pavement, straining to hold her attacker at bay with her shield. It took both hands; he was much heavier than her. The sun beat down brightly, blinding.

Hands groped at her neck. She tried to free her legs to knee him in the groin but his staggering weight crushed her.

A shadow fell over them, grabbing the man by his hair and running a knife through his skull.

"Charlie," Mason gasped, rolling the body to the side.

"Fucking cavalry's arrived," Charlie said, pulling her up.

Mason watched as a group of fresh Kingdom fighters charged through the mayhem, mowing down the remaining Saviors. There was no sense of victory in the silence after, though they'd won this skirmish. Bodies lay scattered on the road, and not all of them were Saviors.

Renee rushed among them all, looking for survivors. "We've got four down, we need to get three of them home, now!" she called. "Ash, check the van for any medical supplies."

Everyone pitched in carrying the survivors to the truck, loading them carefully in the cargo bed. Sam, Lily, Dave and Ezekiel tended to their wounds as best they could while Renee worked to save her own patient.

Mason frowned, seeing it was Opal, a kind, timid woman who had blossomed during combat training. Renee pressed a pile of gauze to the hideous wound in her stomach.

"It's not stopping," she muttered. "Fuck."

"Do you need something else to wrap it?" Mason asked, touching the hem of her shirt.

"It's not—she needs to be operated on. I can't do that here, and she won't make the trip."

Frustration and despair laced her words, but she kept her hands on Opal's stomach for several more heartbeats, as though waiting for a miracle. Then she leaned back, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and pulled her knife from its sheath.

"I can't do anything else for her, she's already…she's already pretty much gone." Something strained beneath the surface of her voice, cracking it.

Before Mason could ask what she might do to help, Renee stabbed Opal through the head. She sat there a moment before getting rigidly to her feet.

Mason laid a hand on her shoulder but Renee shrugged away. "I need to get back and treat the others."

She climbed into the back and the truck sped off, leaving half the group behind to gather their hard-won supplies. They loaded everything useful into the Saviors' van. Though she knew Ashlee had already looked and come up empty-handed, Mason scoured again for medical supplies.

Nothing. Fuck.

Tanner leaned in. "Hey, Princess, that's about everything. Just…you know, need to get Opal in here."

She tried not to flinch.

"We got a pretty decent gun haul, huh?"

She nodded. They did desperately need more ammo, but that wasn't all they needed.

Once she was sure everyone was accounted for, she gave the go-ahead to return home. Some of the Saviors stirred as the van passed, their eyes milky with death. She would come back for them later.

~m~

"We're low on just about everything we really need," Ellis whispered. "Needles, gauze, saline, antibiotics. These people are hanging on, but just by a thread. If we don't get these things, that thread snaps, no question. There'd be no way in hell we could treat anymore incoming wounded."

Mason exchanged a glance with Ezekiel and Jerry. They stood with Ellis in a corner of the infirmary, as far away from the patients as the room would allow. Six took up hospital beds, three from today's fight, three from an attack several days prior.

In the last month, they'd taken out all five of the Saviors' outposts, burning each one beyond livability, including the mountain house. It had been surprisingly simple, but the Saviors had been out for revenge ever since. They'd struck nine times in just shy of two weeks. Eliminating the outposts was an incredible accomplishment, but if this routine kept up, they'd run out of supplies before they could make their next move.

Her gaze lingered anxiously on one of the beds, where Rita lay. Shot in the leg in the previous attack, she'd been stabilized, but the wound had become infected. Lily sat next to her now, holding her hand.

Resolve surged through her. No one else would die. She wouldn't allow it.

"Make me a list," she told Ellis. "Everything you need. I'll go out now, I'll find it."

"Not by yourself," Jerry said.

"You need as many people here as possible. I'll be fine. Gladiator, remember?" She touched the hubcap perched on her back. She hadn't quite perfected it as a shield, but it was coming along.

"No, Jerry is correct," Ezekiel said. "I would not allow you to embark anywhere on your own, not with such wolves harrying us. Regardless, our usual hunting range has dimmed in possibilities. I fear we have mined all curative resources within our reach."

"What about the Hilltop?" Jerry said.

The three of them glanced at her, like she might already know if that was the answer.

"I don't know what their medical situation is like," she said. "But it's worth a shot. Jesus will do what he can to help anyway."

Ezekiel still looked worried, but as he took in the room, he sighed. "That is likely the greatest chance we have. Very well. I will ask you both go as my emissaries, but I order you be accompanied by at least two others."

"But—"

"That is my final word, Mason. Elsewise, you will remain here."

Stifling the urge to argue, she dipped her head. "Yes, your Majesty."

~m~

"We really don't have much in the way of ammo," Jesus said, leading them up the dirt drive to the Hilltop. "But we have medical supplies to spare."

The walls around the Hilltop were impressive, but the inside was less grand than Mason expected. Aside from the huge brick building at the center, only a handful of trailers and outbuildings suggested much of a group lived there.

She frowned. "How many people do you have here?"

"About forty," Jesus answered. "We have plans to expand the walls so that we can put in crops. At least when we get enough seed to do so."

Mason glanced at Jerry, who nodded discreetly. Behind them, Scott and Charlie carried their guns at casual angles, though their gazes were vigilant.

Jesus led them into the brick building, which opened into a wide foyer with a curved staircase and rich finishings. Here was where all the grandness was.

He turned to them when they reached the staircase. "Gregory's study is upstairs, but he'll only do this one-on-one."

She motioned to Jerry, but he shook his head. "Nah, man, I think this should probably be you."

"Why?"

He smiled cheerfully and replied, "Oh, because it's harder to say no to someone who looks like the walking embodiment of a mercy stroke."

The others chuckled. She snorted and started up the stairs, Jesus at her side.

"Now, Mason, before you head in there, just know he's… He can be a little much sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that when you get the urge to punch him, try to practice some of that restraint I've been talking about." Eyes twinkling, he added, "Not that he wouldn't deserve it if you broke his nose."

She frowned.

He indicated a door at the end of a short hall. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

She nodded and pushed inside.

A man in a pale gray suit waited, spreading his arms welcomingly.

"Well, if it isn't Jesus' little playmate." His eyes widened slightly taking her in. "I'm sorry, my dear, you'll have to refresh me on your name."

She was trying hard not to make any rash judgments, but she wasn't sure she liked this guy.

"Mason."

"Ah, yes. Gregory."

"Yeah, I know."

He took a seat at a desk, so she sat in the chair across from him. This room's grandness matched the grandness of the foyer, mahogany shelves overflowing with hardcovers, rich wood paneling. Among such well-kept adornment, she felt small and grimy and uncivilized.

Gregory smiled like he could sense this. "Like what you see? This has to be one of the last places on Earth that offers any…refinery. Everything outside these walls succumbs to the ugliness of survival, but in here it's like being back in the old world."

She forced a polite smile.

"Jesus tells me you're a housekeeper," he continued.

"I was. Back in the old world."

If he heard the edge in her tone, he ignored it. "Sure would be nice to have someone like that around again. I tell you, it is truly difficult finding decent help around here."

"Forty people seems like plenty of help to me."

"Yes, but none of them are housekeepers. They don't really know how to get down to that nitty gritty. Keep it clean how I like." His eyes glittered. "You don't strike me as someone who shies away from the nitty gritty. In fact, you look like a woman who can get things just as clean as a nitpick like me requires."

Okay, she was positive she didn't like this guy.

Her spine prickled, but she remembered Jesus' advice and tamped down her disgust.

"Yeah, I don't shy away from it. So if we could just get down to why I'm here—"

"Where is it you come from again? Your community, I mean."

Mason hesitated, then said, "The Kingdom."

"The Kingdom. Sounds like quite a grandiose place. I'd love a tour sometime. Of course, I'd have to request that you be the one to give it to me." He winked.

She stared flatly. "Yeah, so, the reason I'm here—"

"Oh, yes, yes, I know why you're here, but there's plenty of time to discuss business. I like to get to know people before I start asking them for things." He shook his head, as though scolding a disobedient child. "That's just common courtesy, wouldn't you say?"

She clenched her fists under the table. "Maybe, but this business is actually kind of time sensitive. We have wounded people back home. We need medical supplies."

"Are you telling me you have none?"

His tone put her on guard and she realized she'd just revealed a little too much. He didn't need to know how desperate they were.

"We do, but once our people are healed, we'll likely be pretty low, you know. We like to plan ahead."

Gregory smiled wider, and Mason cursed inwardly. She found random-ass combat coaches in the woods. Why couldn't she stumble on someone who could fucking teach her how to lie?

"And what, uh, would your people be willing to put down for these medical supplies?"

"Seed. Jesus tells me you're planning to expand but you don't have enough. We could help with that."

He leaned back thoughtfully. "Jesus tells me your people are at war with the Saviors."

"We are."

"See, that puts me in a bit of an awkward position. We don't wish to jeopardize the agreement we've come to with Negan."

"What agreement? The one where you surrender to his demands and he takes half your shit every month? You wouldn't catch me making that deal."

"Well, it seems to me there's things you don't understand about the world. Sometimes you have to do things you wouldn't believe."

She bridled at the condescension, but she reined it in. She had to get these supplies. Her people were counting on her.

"Maybe that's why you should make a deal with us," she said. "So you can stop doing those things. We've already taken out all their outposts. You'll have us to thank once the Sanctuary's gone."

His eyes flashed. "Confidence! I like that. It's your kind of spirit that…rouses something in me. You know, I do want to help you. But I'm wondering if maybe there's something else you could give me."

He sauntered around to sit on her side of the desk. She had to scoot back to make room for him.

"I wasn't kidding about wanting help around here. Someone to…assist me, if you will."

Every nerve in her vibrated with revulsion. "I thought Jesus was your right-hand man."

"Oh, he is, but…some things just require a woman's touch." He ran a hand down her arm and she went rigid. "Now, my preference would be you, of course, but I'm willing to negotiate. For example, the one you came in with. Maybe you can tell I like them a little on the exotic side—"

Lightning-fast, Mason shot out of her chair, grabbing his arm and spinning him around in a move Jesus taught her. She slammed him down on the table, wrenching his arm behind his back until he cried out.

She leaned down and spoke in his ear, "Alright, it's my turn to talk." Behind her, the door swung open but she didn't let go. "Seems to me there's things you don't understand. Like how you never bait a woman who could easily break your arm and definitely wants to. Or how you never make enemies with a group who has the weaponry and experience to wipe yours out when they're trying to make friends."

"Let go of my arm!"

"Oh, I will once you've made an effort to actually listen to me. Now, we have seed that we can trade—corn, beans, sorghum. Sorghum is this really cool grain, kind of underrated in my opinion, that—"

"I know what sorghum is!" he spat.

"Oh, good. We also have seed for garden crops—tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers. We cleaned out all the supply stores in the area, which is probably why you can't find any. So unless you plan on venturing out farther, we're your safest bet. It would mean more food for your people, plus a nice little surprise for your friends the Saviors. I know how much you wanna stay on their good side."

In her peripheral, Jesus appeared, arms extended to restrain her if necessary. But she was in control. In fact, she'd never felt so fucking in control. For the first time, she felt powerful.

She shook his arm a bit and he grunted. "I won't be assisting you. Neither will my friend. Neither will any woman from my Kingdom, do you understand? It's seed or nothing. Have I made it clear where each of us stands?"

He huffed, spittle flying. "Yes."

"Alright." Roughly, she released him. "Do you have an answer for me, or should I give you a minute?"

He turned, rubbing at his arm. There was hate in his eyes, but fear, too. "You have a deal."

Relief flooded her, but she tried not to let it show. "Coolioz."

Jesus threw her a warning glare and ushered her out of the room, but when she reached the threshold, she turned back.

"Oh, yeah. I ever hear you call a woman exotic again, I'll take your left nut."

Once the door closed, Jesus hissed, "I told you to be restrained."

"You told me not to punch him. I didn't hear anything about threatening to break his arm. Besides, I was restrained until he started touching me like some horndog at a strip club. Honestly, dude, that guy…"

He sighed. "I know. I'm sorry, I should've given you more of a heads-up. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, and was surprised to find that she meant it.

"Well, c'mon, let's get to the infirmary before he changes his mind."

No one gave them any trouble, and the truck was soon loaded with supplies. Mason paused before climbing into the back.

"Hey." She nudged Jesus. "Thank you. Really."

"It's no problem, Mason. Well, actually, I'll never hear the end of it from Gregory, so it's a bit of a problem."

"Oh, god…I'm so sorry."

"The things I do for you, sweetheart." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Go on, get back to your people."

~m~

The relief was palpable in the infirmary. Rita was awake, gruffly telling Lily not to worry, not to cry, she was perfectly fine. Ellis offered encouraging smiles to those conscious. Renee did, too, but it never lingered; once she wasn't face-to-face with anyone, her expression clouded. Still dwelling on Opal.

Ezekiel immediately prepared the seed to send to the Hilltop. Mason expected him to disapprove of how she'd reached the arrangement, since she could've risked it entirely. But all the disapproval seemed aimed at Gregory.

"My Lady, I would never expect you to endure any unwelcome advances, no matter the stakes. Indeed, I am quite proud of how you handled such an unsavory situation."

He told her she didn't need to go back if she didn't want to, but she insisted. They'd already gotten what they wanted, but she wanted to make sure Gregory wasn't going to pull anything stupid anyway.

She stayed in the truck bed this time while Jerry took the lead. Gregory didn't come out of his study at any point, so Jesus and Edna, an older lady who worked in the infirmary, handled things.

On the drive back, Mason leaned her head over the side of the bed and watched the world roll by. She couldn't help feeling a flicker of hope, soft as a fluttering leaf but persistent in her chest. Everything felt slightly more beautiful, more open. Golden sunlight and long shadows dappled the road.

As did a trail of bloody footprints cutting horizontally across the pavement.

She sat up, about to alert Jerry, but the truck was already slowing. She hopped out, trailed by Charlie and Scott.

"These are really fresh," Jerry said.

"They're headed that way." Scott pointed northwest, into the trees.

They all looked at each other, silently questioning if they wanted to risk it. Finally, Mason said, "C'mon. We have to know where they're going."

She and Jerry took the lead. None of them were trackers, but the trail was ridiculously easy to follow, which made her think there had to be a lot of them. Excitement buzzed in her chest. Whatever was drawing these walkers, this had to be where they'd all been going lately.

They passed an old water tower a few yards off the highway. Vines climbed the columns, so she assumed it had been defunct for a while. The trail veered beyond it.

A sound registered, though she couldn't tell what at first. A waterfall? Some kind of droning machinery maybe?

Then Jerry grabbed her shoulder, halting her, and she realized they'd caught up to the walkers right as the sound became identifiable.

Her companions' eyes stretched wide; clearly they heard it, too. Up ahead, a group of about thirty walkers stumbled toward the sound, out beyond the forest's edge.

Before promptly falling, one by one, over the horizon.

She blinked. It was a ledge. Jerry nudged her and motioned toward it questioningly. She nodded and they all drew their weapons before prowling forward.

The sound grew dizzyingly loud. Mason's pulse stuttered as they finally reached the ledge.

It was a quarry, the waterless sister to the one near the Kingdom that Sam had mentioned. Waterless, but not barren, because about a hundred feet below, the dead dominated the space. Fear spiked through her, in a way the walkers had not been able to inspire in a long time.

She'd never seen so many in one place. Hundreds, possibly even a thousand. The smell was monstrous, but the sound… The sound raised the hairs on the back of her neck, a consuming, primal response.

"Holy shit." Charlie whispered this, but Mason still jumped. "How the fuck…why the fuck are they all here?"

"Look," Jerry pointed. "Those trucks."

Winding down into the quarry along the opposite cliff face was a narrow road. Halfway up, two tractor trailers perched, cabs angled in as a makeshift wall to keep the walkers from climbing out.

"It's gonna go soon," he added. "Look at the way the ass-end of that trailer is angled."

He was right. The truck closest to the edge leaned precariously, its rear tires sitting on what looked like little more than a prayer. Mason traced the path up to ground level, which led to a dirt road. She pointed.

"Where does that lead? The highway?"

"Yeah, but from there it heads east," Jerry said. "Decomps pretty much move in a straight line unless something distracts them, so I don't think they'll come in our direction." But he frowned, obviously unconvinced.

She couldn't blame him. With a herd this unthinkable, it was hard to place confidence in probably's.

"We can't just let them migrate on their own," Scott said. "Anything could send them in our direction."

"Well, where the hell are we gonna take them?" Charlie demanded.

Mason sucked in a sharp breath.

These were her walkers. These were what she'd been hunting for all these months, to use against the Saviors. Now here they were, all conveniently in one place, as though they'd been waiting for her.

She whirled to Jerry. "We didn't know how to get them to waste all their ammo, remember?" The words tripped over themselves in her excitement.

Despite her poor articulation, Jerry understood immediately. He put his hands to either side of his head, eyes going wide. "Oh, shit, dude…"

She motioned to the quarry herd, nearly hopping up and down.

"This is it! This is how we do it."

~m~

Sunlight beat down on Mason's shoulders. She flapped the hem of her shirt in an attempt to cool herself and leaned against the bowl of the water tower. She'd been roosting on its balcony since dawn, keeping watch.

A week had passed since discovering the quarry herd, a week of planning and reconnaissance and finding ways to stave off the boredom up on this tower. Tomorrow, they'd bust the herd out of their earthen enclosure, but until then, they were acting with round-the-clock vigilance. The water tower was just a precaution, providing a vantage point in case the quarry busted itself open.

With quarry day looming, her thoughts kept jumping back to the discord among the Kingdom. A good portion of them were reluctant to execute something so dicey. Some of their points were valid. They didn't have enough ammo to launch an effective attack on the Sanctuary, even in the midst of a herd invasion. They risked annihilation themselves if they tried that. A compromise was reached—they'd let the walkers wreak their havoc, then return in a finishing blow.

Ezekiel was magnificent through all of it. He was present in every stage of the planning. He gave speeches that assuaged concerns and uplifted spirits. Mason found herself believing them this time.

They were going to win this. No matter what it took, they were going to win.

Absently, she reached up and traced the letters she'd carved into the bowl a few days ago. Wait. Just like the painting of that water tower in the Oasis. Just like one of her favorite songs…

A sound reached her. She sat up straight, ears straining. A soft breeze rustled through the treetops, stirring her hair.

It smelled like death.

She scrambled to her feet. Over the thunder of her heart, the sound became clearer and clearer. The groans and snarls of countless walkers.

"Fuck." She snatched the walkie off her belt. "Jerry, you copy?"

"Here, boss."

"It's happening, but I can't tell how far along they are. Send everyone out. I'm gonna see if I can get ahead of it."

"On our way. Be real careful, dude."

"Always am."

She shimmied to the ground and took off running. She wasn't too far from the bend in the highway, but it still took a few minutes before she was close enough to spot it.

Her heart sank. The herd was already there. Luckily, they all seemed content to march east, paying no mind to the road that led to the Kingdom. That wouldn't be the case, however, if she gave them something to focus on.

She darted into the woods, taking great pains to go unnoticed until she could snatch a straggler from the edge of the herd. Half-dragging it as she followed the group parallel, she painted herself in record time, then started running again.

As she did, she radioed Dave.

"Hey, you on the road?"

"We are. Are you okay? You sound—"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, but look, the herd's already passed the turnoff. You and Lily are gonna have to take that alternate route up to Redding. I don't think they've gotten too far ahead of me but I'm trying to get the lead right now. Everyone else needs to make it to the fork. If—"

Her footsteps stalled. The breath pulled tight in her throat. She couldn't have reached the front of the herd yet, could she?

No, it wasn't the front. Something was pulling the walkers off the road. She followed them as they flooded into the trees on the north side, near a turnoff marked by an old sign.

"You're almost home!" it read. "Alexandria. Next right."

Something unraveled inside her at the sight of it. An old fear, half-forgotten, dusty.

(you're almost home)

"Mason!"

Dave's voice shook her back to the present. "I'm here. Dave, something's pulling them north. I think it's that…"

In her head, Sam was telling her about the quarries. About how one had been hollowed out to build a new community to the north. Unfinished and uninhabited, last they'd checked. But that had been a while ago. They'd been too distracted protecting their home front to give it a second thought.

"It's that place Sam told us about. Alexandria."

"I thought no one was living there."

As he spoke, a new sound rent the air, one that filled her veins with ice.

The screams of many terrified people.

"I can hear them," she rasped. "We—we have to lead them away. How close are you?"

"We're coming down Redding now."

She didn't stay to wait for them. She followed the river of dead through the trees until a huge metal wall crested into sight. Part of it had collapsed under an enormous tree, felled by lightning if the scorch marks along one sign were any indicator, and the walkers were flooding in.

Too many. Too many to draw away.

"Fuck," she hissed, and started jabbing her iron through walker after walker before wondering just what in hell she thought that would accomplish.

"Mason!"

Ezekiel appeared, followed by Jerry, Sam, Paula and James. They positioned themselves around her, taking down what walkers they could, but Ezekiel and Jerry met her gaze through the chaos and she saw their thoughts were the same.

It wasn't going to make a difference. They had no hope of drawing out the walkers that had already breached the wall; prey held their attention now. All they could do was try to alter the course of the rest of the herd.

From the highway, music started playing. Her music, blasting through the speakers of a truck. Dave and Lily had arrived.

"We must away, my Kingdom!" Ezekiel cried. "Lure as many as you can back with us!"

Guilt cracked a line through her chest. Somehow, this wasn't the same as all those times she'd avoided people on the road. But she comforted herself by thinking maybe these people were bad, bad like Coyote's cult, bad like the Saviors. Maybe they deserved it. Besides, she had her own people to worry about, her own mission. She turned away.

The six of them spread out, singing loudly to hook as many walkers as they could. They were more successful the farther they retreated from the community—Mason couldn't bear to think its name.

(you're almost)

It was easier if it didn't have a name.

Her spirits lifted a little when they reached the highway. The tactic had worked; the remaining half of the herd shadowed Dave and Lily. Ezekiel and the others dispersed among the dead, spacing themselves out to keep things from getting sloppy again. As she sang, Mason's section of walkers contracted her around her like a clenching fist. Occasionally, through the din, she heard others singing to their dead.

The journey took a lifetime. Heat intensified the herd's stench to something borderline evil. Sweat drenched her, and she worried it might wash away her dead paint. Her muscles ached with stress.

But then the turnoff came, marking three-fourths of their journey over, and her heart began to flutter in anticipation. The sun would be sinking by the time they made it to the Sanctuary. Not exactly how they'd planned it, but not bad, all things considered.

By the time she spotted the fence, a good portion of walkers already surrounded it, bowing it precariously. Shots showered into their ranks a second later. Mason touched her gun.

Once she was close enough to spot the gunmen on the watch towers, she took aim and fired.

She stuck around just long enough to catch one in the throat before calling it good. Then she darted out of the herd and into the woods.

It didn't take long to find the dirt road, the same the Saviors had tried to take her down. Dave, Lily, Tanner and Ashlee waited in the truck. Parked behind them was the school bus, which they'd gotten running solely for this.

"What's the head count?" she asked.

"Bea, Patricia, Stoney, Vick, and Jeremy," Dave answered.

"Good, good." Everyone that should've been there was. Now they just had to wait for the rest.

The wait was excruciating. But one by one, everyone made it back to them. Sam, Charlie, Dray, Renee, Paula, James, Richard…

Finally, Ezekiel and Jerry appeared, signaling for them to start the vehicles. Mason hopped into the back of the truck with the rest of her Misfits and something in her blood rose like birds in flight as they sped away.

"We did it," she murmured to herself. Then louder, so her Misfits could hear, "We fucking did it."

They grinned, and she grinned back until her face hurt, and the grin turned into a scream of pure triumph.

"We fucking did it!"

The Misfits howled with her, and her lungs started to ache but she couldn't stop. All the pain, all the fear and uncertainty, all the fucking grief, spilled violently out of her.

She was powerful. They were powerful. They could do anything.

~m~

The celebration that night was like nothing she'd ever experienced. Everything was a fever of drinking and feasting and dancing, so much laughter and jubilance Mason felt tipsy.

Ava and the other children were paraded around on peoples' shoulders until their bedtime. Dray and Dave played their guitars and Mason sang only happy songs and everyone danced to her voice. When her throat felt too raw to continue, they played her iPod through speakers like the night would never end.

She got drunk for the first time in three years. She danced with almost everyone. The happiness on her family's faces filled her with such radiance she thought she'd combust.

Eventually, things blurred. She was dancing with Dray. She was telling jokes to Ezekiel and Richard. She was passing a joint to Renee. She was running through the dark with Ashlee and Lily, giggling witlessly. She was puking in the bushes while Charlie held her hair back and laughed at her.

Even through the burgeoning hangover, happiness followed her into sleep. She was on a beach, and her family was there, and strangers she knew by instinct and not name were there, and there were purple and yellow flowers everywhere, there was joy and love and the distinct sense that she had finally come home.

Everyone grumbled the next day, but no one seemed to regret the night. The Misfits passed around water and aspirin and junk food; Mason shared an entire jar of pickles with Ava, who kept asking why she had a tummy ache.

Kelsey and Scott checked in around noon, scolding them teasingly before telling them Ezekiel had called a meeting. Reluctantly, they emerged from the soothing dimness of their house. Mason dropped Ava off at Harriet's before joining everyone in the courtyard.

Ezekiel joked a bit that he hoped no one felt too miserable after their nocturnal revelries. Mason laughed behind very dark sunglasses. He grew serious informing them that they would return to the Sanctuary in a week to check on the aftermath, but then he brightened again.

"You mighty warriors who participated in yesterday's harrowing crusade brandished a courage worthy of the most stalwart knights," he said. "That is why, early this eve, I shall be holding a knighting ceremony for each of you."

Mason couldn't help a bubble of excitement. Not long ago, she'd thought some of Ezekiel's theatrics silly. Now she was going to be knighted. And it still felt a little silly, but more the way last night had felt silly. A celebration, an acknowledgment of something good.

Late afternoon met them with an immaculate sky, casting the Kingdom in gold. Everyone who was to be knighted stood before Ezekiel in the courtyard. One by one, they knelt at his feet as he recited their vows: "Do you pledge, by your heart, by your blood, by your life, to protect and defend this Kingdom, to the very end of your days?"

"I do," they said.

To which he laid his sword on their shoulder and said, "I declare you now a Knight of this Kingdom."

Mason swelled with pride as each of her Misfits were knighted. When it was her turn, she held Ezekiel's gaze through the entire vow.

Finally, he stepped back. "Before we call an end to this day, there are two more ceremonies I wish to perform. Jerry, if you would step forward."

Smiling eagerly, Jerry stood before him. Ezekiel laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Jerry, long have you have stood by your King, no matter the hardship, no matter long nights, no matter hostiles and calamities. I cherish your unwavering loyalty, your immense courage, and the light that shines from you, even in darkest times. I wish you to be my Steward, first ambassador to my name, to act in my place should any ill befall me and oversee this Kingdom with a ruler's devotion, from now until the end of my reign. Will you assume this post?"

"I will, your Majesty," he said. "There really is no one else I'd rather serve, and no other group I'd rather be a part of." Then he placed his fist over his heart and bowed low. Mason realized he must have picked that up from the Misfits…

"Good. Now. Mason?"

She jolted, staring in confusion. Jerry grinned—clearly he was in on whatever was going on. Ezekiel beckoned her gently and she went to him, trying not to feel self-conscious.

As with Jerry, Ezekiel laid a hand on her shoulder. His eyes sparkled.

"Lady Mason," he said, "time and again, you have proven yourself an outstanding addition to this Kingdom. I am more than proud to know you, and I cannot imagine moving forward without your dazzling gallantry, your ferocious loyalty, or the wisdom borne from the formidable way in which you love. I wish you to be my Champion, first defender of my name, cardinal paladin of this Kingdom, from now until the end of my reign. Will you assume this post?"

A small breath left her. She hadn't been planning on staying. She'd forgotten, in the rush of everything, in yesterday's triumph, that she never intended on making this home. Hadn't intended on…on living long enough to make it that…

She opened her mouth to say this, but what came out was, "I will, your Majesty."

Delight lit Ezekiel's eyes. Jerry almost started bouncing with excitement.

She placed a fist over her heart and bowed. "By my iron and my blood, whether my shadow fall by sunlight or moonlight…I will."

Ezekiel threw his arms in the air. "May this day's joys live eternally in our memories, and may those memories carve a new future of love, light and freedom!"

Everyone cheered. The Misfits reached Mason first, hugging and shaking her and yelling about her new position. Jerry spun her in a circle until she started laughing. Kelsey and Scott embraced her proudly.

In the middle of this, a group approached her and Ezekiel. Paula, James, Stoney, Vick… All those who had argued against yesterday's scheme.

"Mason. Your Majesty," Paula nodded respectfully at each of them. "We were wrong. We were wrong to side with Everett when he wanted to surrender. We were wrong to doubt your plan with the herd. Please…we're sorry. We never should have doubted either of you. We swear to follow your lead from now on, and…we volunteer to keep an eye on the Sanctuary until we're ready to attack."

Hands over hearts, they bowed. Mason and Ezekiel exchanged a startled glance.

"Dear hearts, there is no need to apologize," he said. "There was valid reason for your dissent, and I do not blame you for it. Let us put this behind us."

There was celebration that night, as well, softer and more hopeful than any she'd ever experienced.

This was the beginning of everything.

~m~

The next week flew by. Weapons assigned, food and medicine inventoried, watch posts reinforced, vehicles refueled and tuned-up. Mason led more intensive combat lessons. Ezekiel wrapped up each day with a rousing speech. Paula's group reported back no movement at the Sanctuary aside from the dead.

Mason met with Jesus the day before the return to the Sanctuary. They spent their time as they usually did, until the end.

"Mason," he said, more solemn than she had ever seen him. "You need to be careful tomorrow. I'm glad you think you have the upper hand here, but even so, Negan's tricky. Don't let confidence cloud things up."

"Well, with any luck, the walkers did our job for us and ate his guts," she replied lightly. "We'll be fine, okay? I'll give you the whole riveting tale in two days' time."

His frown lingered a second longer before dissolving into a smirk. "Guess I shouldn't worry. Negan doesn't know what he's in for with you, Miss 'I'll-Take-Your-Left-Nut'. Why the left, by the way?"

"I don't know, I thought maybe he was right-nutted. You know, how most people are right-handed?"

The conversation melted into giggles. They wished each other well and promised to see each other soon.

When the day of the attack arrived, Mason sat Ava down on the couch.

"Listen. Tonight, a lot of us are going out to do something really important. You're gonna stay here with Harriet and all your friends, and you're gonna watch movies and have a great time. But just in case those mean men show up, I need to know you know what to do. Can you tell me what we do if the mean men show up?"

"Find a grown-up."

"That's right, find a grown-up that you know. Then what?"

"Run for the bus."

"Yes, but don't leave your grown-up's side unless you absolutely have to. Okay?"

"Uh-huh. Macie, why don't you stay?"

"Because, baby girl." It was harder to smile, talking to Ava about this. "I'm Ezekiel's new Champion. That means I have to go out and kick all the butts of all the mean men in the world."

"You be safe, right?"

Mason swallowed. Why was this so difficult? "Of course I'll be safe. And when I get back, I wanna hear all about what movies you watched. I think I heard a rumor going around about Monsters, Inc.…?"

Ava brightened, and they had lunch together, and Mason tried to dismiss the anxiety in her stomach.

At sundown, Jerry and Mason made last minute rounds, making sure everything and everyone was prepared. Brilliant shades of fire lit the sky, but to the east, storm clouds approached, spiking lightning into the air.

Ezekiel addressed them all from the courtyard.

"My Kingdom, we stand this eve on the threshold of a new age, a glorious overture to a life free of the Saviors' tyranny. We go now into the darkness, but we go resolute. We go hard-bitten by our sufferings. We go together, because together, we endure, we persist, and we conquer! We shall triumph this darkness, and in our triumph, herald our resplendent dawn!"

Mason cheered with the rest of them, but the anxiety was in her chest now.

It's okay, she told herself, and breathed tightly. Everything's okay.

They divided into three groups.

Ezekiel's was the largest—twelve in all, including Richard and the Misfits. Mason had insisted on that; the Misfits had proven themselves some of the most capable of her combat students, and she wanted to make sure Ezekiel was well-protected.

Sam, Bea, Scott, Kelsey and Deb joined Jerry's group, which totaled eight.

Mason's group was the smallest, only six, Paula, Stoney, and James among them. But her group eyed her with such determination that she didn't feel nervous about their numbers.

The few staying behind wished them luck. Mason watched the Kingdom fade into the night as they drove away.

They parked on the same dirt road they had last time. They separated into their respective groups. Mason watched as first Ezekiel's, and then Jerry's, disappeared into the dark. Then she nodded to hers and set off in a different direction.

There was no light from any moon or stars. Clouds rumbled overhead, flashing occasionally with half-stifled lightning. At a certain point, they had to turn on their flashlights just to avoid knocking into trees.

The wind picked up, bringing an unseasonable chill. Mason shivered. Her nerves buzzed as though stirred by static electricity.

A twig cracked loudly. She halted and her group pulled in around her. Paula started to say something but Mason hissed at her to be quiet.

"Evening, ladies."

A man stepped out from behind a tree, wielding a machine gun. Mason's hand stilled on its way to her own gun.

"You all are coming with me, nice and easy, now," the man said.

"That's gonna have to be a nope for us," Mason replied as evenly as she could. "Sorry."

The man grinned, like he knew something she didn't. Then he whistled that fucking whistle, and she almost rolled her eyes.

From all sides, Saviors appeared. More than she anticipated. Something worse than doubt spiked through her. How many had survived? They'd surrounded the Sanctuary with what had to have been six hundred walkers. They'd taken out all the guards. The fences had fallen. No one living had gone in or out since, according to Paula's group.

"You're in for a rude awakening, Mason," the man said.

Something struck the back of her head and her vision splintered away.

~m~

When she came to, it was the light she noticed first. It was still clearly nighttime, but there was light radiating from somewhere, illuminating the figures around her.

She was draped over someone's shoulder, her hands and feet bound, at the center of a group of about twenty Saviors. Paula and the others trudged within their ranks, heads bowed in surrender.

Ire stirred in her, but when she opened her mouth to demand she be put down, a groan escaped instead.

"Welcome back, sleepyhead," her bearer said, and she recognized the voice of the man who had ambushed them. "No offense, but I was getting a little sick of carrying you, so it's about damn time."

He dumped her on the ground. She tried to catch herself but failed, and the Saviors laughed.

"You gotta treat her gently, Al," one of them said. "Women like to be treated gently."

Al chuckled. "I'm not sure she is a woman. From what she's shown, she's more of a devil." He leaned closer, pressing his gun to her head. "Now I'm gonna untie you, because you'll have to walk from here on out. Try anything stupid, and we turn your friends' brains into fireworks."

She glared faintly, trying to get a decent grasp on anything resembling composure. Blood hammered her aching skull. Al cut the bindings on her ankles and wrists, but it still took her two tries to get to her feet.

"That's a good girl," Al said. "Now walk. Toward those lights."

Whatever the lights were, they were blinding. She obeyed, screwing up her eyes and fumbling for any sort of plan. The Saviors had taken her weapons as well as her group's and she was too weak to fight hand-to-hand. Their only hope rested on Ezekiel or Jerry's group finding them.

Stay calm. It's going to be okay. You'll figure it out.

Then the trees yawned into a small hollow, and it was headlights, she realized, right before every other thought skidded out of range like tires on black ice.

A line of people knelt on the ground. Ezekiel, Jerry, Richard, Kelsey, Scott and the Misfits. Each of them bore blood and bruises from what must have been a nasty fight.

Cars and trucks surrounded the clearing, and in between and among them, the Saviors. So many, Mason couldn't count. Rain pattered down as she took all this in. The world tilted at a strange angle.

No. No.

She shook her head. This was one of her nightmares, it wasn't real…

"Fucking goddamn finally! I was worried you were gonna stand us up."

Mason twitched as a man detached from the crowd. He wore a leather jacket and a red scarf and a charming, imposing smile. He brandished a baseball bat, wrapped in barbed wire, stained sinister red. He moved like the world belonged to him.

He beckoned her. "C'mon, doll, don't keep us in suspense any longer."

Al pushed her forward until she stood at one end of the line-up. Her family eyed her desperately. For the first time, she saw that they were gagged.

The man loomed over her. Cinnamon and cologne. She stood as still as she could manage, but her insides were screaming.

He looked her over and said, "Jesus, you're a lot smaller than I was expecting. From the way my men gossip, I was expecting you to be a seven-foot fuck monster. Honestly, I'm a little disappointed."

She worked to gather her voice. There was something she needed to say, but her lungs were constricting, so it was a bit difficult.

He leaned even closer, his breath hot on her face. "How many of my men do you think you've killed? It has got to be a fuck ton by now. If that didn't piss me the shit off, I would be impressed."

She trembled. She had to do something, she had to fix this. Think, fucking think…

His grin stretched wider.

"You're Mason, right? I'm sorry. I've already introduced myself to the rest of these sorry shits, but just so you know, I'm Negan. Now we're on first name basis, I think it's appropriate I lay a little bit of reality on you. Hell, it's more than appropriate, it's a fucking obligation. But first, I'm gonna need you on your knees."

"Let…let them go." The words rasped out of her without any of the strength she hoped to back them up.

He put a hand behind his ear. "What was that, doll? You got a voice like a fucking mouse, you're gonna have to speak up."

"Let them go."

"Oh, I'm sorry." When he spoke, it was feather-soft. "Is that you telling me what to do? Christ. You people really have no fucking clue, do you?"

"I-if you let them go, you…you can have me. I'll—I'll go with you, I'll do anything."

Muffled protests behind her, but she ignored them.

"Much as that is a tempting offer, I'm gonna have to pass," Negan said. "That pesky 'business before pleasure' shit. But don't you worry your pretty little head, darlin', I have got something very special to offer you. See in order to get this shindig started, I really do need you on your knees. But I am nothing if not a generous motherfucker, so I'm giving you the choice. Kneel for me, now. Or…we see how nutty this party's gonna get."

A choice. From the gleam in his eye, she knew what that choice was.

She could kneel. Or he could kill her.

Frantically, she thought maybe that was the answer. Maybe that was the only way to fix things. He killed her, got his vengeance out of his system, then let her family go. Yeah. That had to be it, right? She could do that. She could do it.

Panic fogged her brain and it was difficult to think around it.

After a beat, Negan said, "Or, if you do not make a decision, one will be made for you in the form of me picking some random unlucky bastard and bashing his fucking skull in. So what's it gonna be?"

She steeled herself. Wished she had the strength to look back at her family one more time.

"No," she said.

Delight bloomed on Negan's face. "Gonna be a no, huh? Well, color me un-fucking-surprised. Okay. Let's get this party started."

He raised a hand, but not the one she was expecting. She watched in confusion as he snapped his fingers.

Loud rustling, followed by a thick, hideous crack.

Two bodies dropped down from the trees, hanging from nooses.

Sam and Bea.

A strangled cry left her as their bodies spasmed, heads at unnatural angles. Instinct had her lunging forward, but Negan shoved her back.

A choice.

A choice.

She'd been wrong, he hadn't intended to kill her at all, and she'd…she'd…

Someone kicked her legs out from under her, forcing her to her knees. She assumed at first that it was Al, until she looked up to see Stoney sneering down at her.

She gaped, tears rolling down her cheeks. Not real. Not real.

He strode over to Negan's side. Others followed him. Paula, Patricia, James, Vick, Jeremy… Deb was the last to trail after them, eliciting muted screeches and sobs from Tanner and Ashlee.

"Now that is how you start fucking party!" Negan crowed.

Mason shook her head desperately, spattering rain from her hair. No no this wasn't happening it wasn't happening it wasn't…

"Alright. Time to get to that nitty-gritty. Which of you is Ezekiel?"

Negan prowled to the center of the line and pointed his bat at Ezekiel. Fear flared in Mason's belly.

"It's you, isn't it? Shit, you really do give off that royalty vibe, don't you? Well, your Highness, I have someone very important for you to meet."

Negan tossed the bat expertly in his hand.

"This is Lucille. She is my absolute favorite. I bet you got a few favorites right here with you, too. I hear some of you theater rats even got knighted recently. Imagine my ever-loving bewilderment hearing that! I mean, fucking knights? Oh, by the way, you have these fine fuckers over here to thank for all this information I've been privy to."

He waved a hand at Deb and the others, who had all been given guns. Fury churned somewhere below a sea of shock.

Traitors. Fucking traitors.

"Man. Stings like a fissure in your ass, doesn't it? You thought you had this shit handled, but you absolutely fucking did not. Stoney here tells me you got a little information out of our late friend, Adam. Sorry to tell you he omitted some things. For instance, how we have more than five outposts and over two hundred men. Puts a new spin on this defiant teenager shit you got going on."

Mason's head swam. Two hundred?

"Now, I don't want to appear unreasonable. I get it. No one wants an uninvited dick in their mouth. No means no, right? At least until the day you figure out a dick in your mouth is better than some of the alternatives. I'm hoping today can be that day."

Negan scrutinized each of them. Mason pinned him with her gaze, throwing every ounce of loathing into it, though her insides felt suddenly fragile, like the lightest breeze might dismantle her.

They could still win this. They could avenge Sam and Bea, somehow, they could still…

"Let's get the gags out of these pricks' mouths. We're coming up on the call and response portion of this sermon."

Mason watched anxiously as the Saviors approached her family. None of them spoke as their gags were pulled free. Their expressions ranged from rage to grief to terror.

And she couldn't protect them.

She tried to deny it, but the realization unfolded in her anyway, splintering cruelly into hundreds of teeth, latching on, shaking her down…

No. No. She had to protect them, she had to.

"Now," Negan purred. "I'm gonna make this real fucking simple for you. From here on out, you give me your shit. Whatever I ask for, you hand it over. That's about as simple as it gets. If you do not comply to these terms, Lucille here's gonna get a little taste of your brains. You people don't know how lucky you are. We could have busted down that gate, we could have mowed down every last one of you. But I'm a generous motherfucker. And I saw the potential in you. I want you to work for me. But you can't do that with your heads smashed in, can you?"

He paused, once again roving over them with that dark, glittering gaze. The pseudo-friendliness cooled.

"Tonight is the last time I'm offering," he growled. "You don't get to fuck me as often as you've fucked me without giving back. I understand this recent shift in alliances leaves you with fewer people. That's why I'm not going to kill more of you."

Kill more of you. Mason's eyes flicked to Sam and Bea. But something in his tone made her think that wasn't what he meant.

"Negan," Ezekiel pleaded. "My people—"

Negan aimed Lucille at him. "Never interrupt a man when he's giving a speech. You of all people should know that."

But Ezekiel went on. "All this is my doing. Take me and be done with this—"

Negan slammed Lucille on the ground, spraying mud into the air. "Hey. You utter one more fucking word, and I'm gonna stand your ass up and make you decide who gets the honor."

Gets the honor. Who gets the honor.

The words crept down Mason's spine like ice.

Negan motioned to Al. "Who are you?"

Al answered promptly, "Negan."

"There it is. That is exactly what I'm looking for. I want you all to roll that around in your minds, because in a moment, we're gonna have a pop quiz. But first, that giving back I mentioned."

He twirled Lucille expertly. Mason's stomach twirled in unison.

"I'm gonna pick one of you," Negan said. "And then I'm going to beat the fucking life out of you. An example needs to be made, and a price has to be paid. You have cost me more men, more bullets, more time and energy than I have ever invested in a single group before. In order to keep the team in play, someone's gotta strike out."

He strolled back and forth as he spoke, sizing each of them up like he was choosing his next meal. Mason straightened her spine, silently willing him to pick her, begging him to. But he walked away.

"Hmm," he finally said. "This truly is a tough decision. I really hope you people understand that I do not make it lightly. I hate wasting shit. But sometimes, when the TV stops working, you just gotta put your fucking fist through it."

Without warning, he swung the bat square onto Scott's head.

Kelsey and Dave screamed. All the air gushed out of Mason, but there was no sound to put to it, she couldn't manage it.

Negan raised Lucille for another strike, though Scott already lay twitching on the ground. But Kelsey shrieked and leaped at him.

"No!" Dave cried and scrambled to stop her, and suddenly the whole line-up was rushing to intervene.

Dray and Jerry managed to pull Kelsey back, but Negan grabbed Dave by the front of his shirt and raised Lucille. Dave shut his eyes tight.

Somehow, Mason and Ezekiel got there in time. Ezekiel broke Negan's hold on Dave and shoved him away. Mason punched Negan in the face and grabbed Lucille. The razor wire bit deep into her palm.

Negan's eyes widened in shock. He hit her hard enough to split her lip, wrenched Lucille away and jabbed it into Mason's stomach.

She fell on her ass. Mud seeped into her clothes. Everyone was forced back to their knees, this time with guns trained on them. Stoney pressed his to Mason's head and looked expectantly at Negan, who was rubbing his jaw.

"Hoo, shit," he said. "Look at this little pistol go! She has got some lady balls. I don't want to kill that."

Though the pain in her stomach doubled her over, Mason managed to curl her lips in a snarl.

Do it. Just fucking do it. Justfuckingdoit!

"But unfortunately, that hero shit does not fly with me. Zero tolerance for it at this juncture in our relationship, to be quite honest."

His eyes marked her.

"Alrighty, then. Now that we've established that…"

He brought the bat down on Kelsey's head.

Dave's wail pierced the roaring in Mason's ears, but it was the only thing that could. She watched in disbelief as mud and blood soared into the air, as Kelsey's skull split like an overripe fruit, and then she had to look away.

Her eyes wheeled through the deluge, touching on Ezekiel as he held Dave's hysterical form to his chest, hiding him from the sight, on the faces of the rest of her family as the rain ate their tears, on her own fingers grasping at the mud for something, something.

She didn't realize she was shuddering until Negan grabbed her by the hair. She struggled, crying weakly, as he dragged her the few feet to Kelsey's body.

"Take a good look, doll," he said, forcing her face into the mess that used to be Kelsey. "I want you to remember what you've done."

Mason whimpered and choked, clawing at his hand, pushing against the ground. But he just pressed her face lower until she felt the blood, hot and sticky on her cheek, in vile contrast to the chill of the mud.

"Stop," she wailed. "Please."

Finally, he tossed her to the side. She tumbled like a ragdoll, the world spinning past her eyes, headlights and night shadows and rain, and there was blood in her mouth, there was blood in her mouth and she knew the taste, she knew the taste because she'd done this before, she'd killed before, that was all she was good for, that was all she was…

She retched violently. She needed it out, she needed it all out…

"Now that we understand each other," Negan said. There was a pause. Somehow, Mason managed to look up.

He stood before the line-up, pinwheeling Lucille like a baton. Blood and brain matter spun from it like sparks.

"Who are you?"

No one in the line-up spoke. There was only the tiny, pitiful sound of their grief.

His eyes flashed. "I said, who are you?"

Charlie threw a glance at Ezekiel and Dave, at Mason, then answered through clenched teeth, "Negan."

After a heartbeat, the rest of the line-up echoed her dully, then Jerry, then Dray.

Finally, Negan turned to Ezekiel and Mason.

"Who are you?"

Neither of them spoke. Mason wasn't sure she was even capable at this point. The rain hammered down, merciless in the silence.

When it was clear they weren't going to say anything, Negan cocked his head.

"Grab these two," he ordered his men. "We're gonna take a little field trip. The rest of you, stay put. Anyone tries anything, I give you total permission to start hacking off whatever tickles your fancy, I mean, really go apeshit."

And there was nothing either of them could do, nothing anyone could do, as Mason and Ezekiel were jerked roughly to their feet and led past the headlights, into the dark.

A/N: Just as a sidenote, I rewatched 6x16 and 7x01, so that I could be properly motivated by the fucked-up vibe of the line-up to write this version. I...kinda forgot how rough those episodes are to watch. Anyway, so next chapter will be the final part of this interlude, I know it's been a long one, but we're almost there. After that, we'll be returning to present day Team Family and the Kingdom! Thanks once again for reading, I truly hope you enjoyed, and until next time, much love xoxo