38 days after the fall of the farmhouse…,

Isaac coughed, his chest heaving as he groaned and clutched his side. He couldn't decide if he was dead or not. He opened his eyes, staring at the dull, overcast sky that peeked through the trees. His skin was cold and he couldn't quite feel anything. Maybe he was dead.

He pulled his hand away from his side to inspect his fingers, finding them coated in blood. How much had he lost?

Forcing himself to sit up, Isaac looked around the camp, and all he saw was death. Everyone he'd called "friend" was splayed out and riddled with bullets and there were no guns to be seen. Isaac staggered to his feet; his face was pinched as white-hot pain radiated through his side. He could almost feel the bullet still lodged in him. He stumbled over to the run-down car, leaning against it as he peered through the window.

The backseat was empty, the door on the other side of the car left wide open. He cursed under his breath. Everything was gone. Everything he'd worked so hard to cultivate, ripped away.

He moved around the back of the car, using it for support, finding an obvious trail leading away into the woods.

Barely able to stand, Isaac followed the trail, his only thought being that maybe Annie was still alive.

As he walked, he used the trees for support, spotting blood on a few of them before he finally came upon a corpse. He dropped down beside it, picking up the bloody rock lying next to its head.

The head was a mess of gore and brain matter, but he recognized the jacket as belonging to Trevor.

"Well, shit," Isaac huffed, dropping the rock and pushing himself to his feet.

There was still a trail to follow, however old, and it led toward the neighborhood not far from where they'd decided to camp. He walked past the cookie cutter houses of what resembled a delightful place to live, though overgrown and dilapidated, and looked for any sign of Annie. Whoever had killed Trevor had to be pursuing her. Isaac could think of no other reason the person would have kept moving this way after killing Trevor.

He found nothing, not one footprint, and he stared down the road with a dazed expression. He had to assume that she was likely dead or would be soon. A shame, really. Oh, he had planned on killing her, but not for a long time yet. It irked him that someone or something else—he couldn't rule out the possibility that she had been eaten by rotters—had taken that from him. He was in no condition to do anything about it, though, and he knew there was no sense in chasing ghosts.

Unsure of where else to go, he made his way to one of the houses, hoping that perhaps he'd find some first aid. He needed to get this bullet out. The first house he entered had nothing but the basics in the pantry, but it did have alcohol and a craft room with needle nose pliers.

Isaac shook his head, taking a few gulps of the whiskey he'd found before pouring it over the pliers and over his wound. Finally, with a few quick breaths, he maneuvered the pliers into the wound. He cried out in pain, quickly finding purchase on the bullet and pulling it out, his hands shaking as he inspected it.

He blinked, unable to focus his vision on the bullet. He felt his head swimming, and for a brief moment he'd thought someone had walked into the room—then the world went sideways and he was on the ground. The last thing he could remember was a strand of the bright pink fur carpet poking into his nose.

Isaac's eyes snapped open and he stared wildly at the metal ceiling above him. He was warm, and there was a blanket covering him. He turned his head to look around the cluttered room, spotting a large, burly man hunched over a desk, his back to Isaac. It seemed to be a storm shelter.

The man straightened suddenly and turned around to stare at Isaac in surprise.

"I was wonderin' when you'd wake up," the man said, his voice a rolling drawl.

"What happened?" Isaac asked, his voice raw. "How long was I out?"

"A couple days. I've been keepin' you hydrated," the man said, pointing out an I.V. hanging from a hook on the wall. "You were shot—I guess you tried gettin' the bullet out on your own. You got the main part, but there were fragments left. I got 'em out."

"Are you a doctor?" Isaac asked.

"Oh no, just have a lot of experience with GSWs," the man said, an uh at the end of his sentence. "That's short for gunshot wounds. Tucker, by the way."

"Isaac."

"Here, you must be starvin'," Tucker said, turning around to grab something. When he turned back to Isaac, he held a can of beans in one gloved hand with a bowl and spoon in the other. "Warmed it up and everythin'."

Isaac struggled to push himself up, and Tucker quickly moved to his side, propping him up against a pillow.

"It ain't much, but I figure it's better than nothin'," Tucker grinned, pouring the beans into the bowl.

He set it in Isaac's lap and backed away, grabbing another spoon to eat the remaining beans from the can.

"Ma was a nurse," Tucker said, scooping beans into his mouth. "Taught me a thing or two." He waved his spoon in the air. "Dad was a good for nothin' who liked to play with guns."

Isaac ate slowly, trying to ignore the pain and the headache slowly forming. Tucker talked too much.

"You know, I married a nurse, too. She passed before all this," Tucker continued. "Her name was Maria; she was from Venezuela. Most beautiful thing I ever did see. Stubborn as a mule, though. But ain't most women?"

Isaac ate quietly, trying to decide how to play this. Tucker had medical knowledge—at least enough to keep him alive. But he was so damn annoying.

"How did you find me?" Isaac asked, cutting Tucker off in his rambling.

"Oh, well, I heard you hollerin' when you were in that house, saw you pass out, took you back here."

Isaac shook his head, setting his empty bowl in his lap. No matter how annoying Tucker was, Isaac was still too weak to do anything on his own.

"Well, Tucker. It looks like I owe you my life," Isaac sighed.

"Come on, Tucker," Isaac called, waiting for the man at the top of the hill.

It had been three months since Tucker had found Isaac and nursed him back to health. As much as he found him irritating, it became evident rather quickly that Isaac needed the man around. If only for medical attention.

They were making their way North now, having come to the mutual understanding that there was nothing useful for them in the South. They needed to move on to greener pastures, as Tucker liked to say.

"Sorry, Isaac," Tucker huffed as he made it to the top of the hill. "My lungs just ain't what they used to be."

Isaac shrugged, and they continued on.

Tucker wasn't necessarily fat, he was just built tall and broad. He was big, like a linebacker, or an ox. Ox seemed to be the more appropriate comparison to Isaac, because he was certainly about as smart as one.

But what Tucker lacked in intelligence, he made up for in perception. He noticed things about people. He could always tell when Isaac was lying, and that infuriated Isaac to no end. Because of this, he had to spin some version of the truth that Tucker could accept—not a Herculean feat by any means, but certainly a hassle.

They were in Virginia now, looking for a place to camp for the night. At the top of the hill, they got a good vantage point of the area.

"You see anythin' good? Maybe a steakhouse?" Tucker laughed, nudging Isaac with his elbow.

Isaac scowled, and continued on. As they walked, Tucker began telling him about a time he and his wife had once had a contest to see who could eat their steak faster, laughing at the memory of his little wife packing it away faster than a cheetah could run on crack.

Eventually, the two came upon a small, one-room building just off the road. Isaac deemed it safe enough for the night. It was quick to clear with no obvious signs of anyone having been there recently. After eating a quick meal of granola bars, they settled into separate corners, Tucker announcing that he'd take first watch. Isaac agreed and found a comfortable position on the hard floor, and quickly fell asleep.

It seemed like seconds had passed when Tucker was nudging him awake again.

"The hell?" Isaac hissed, frowning at the man.

"Quiet," Tucker hushed.

A car door slammed outside and Isaac sat up straight. Grabbing his gun, he got to his feet, keeping low to the ground and moving to one side of the door he peered through the dusty window.

Four men were walking toward the building, all heavily armed.

"Shit," Isaac hissed.

"What do we do?" Tucker asked. "I don't like the look of 'em."

"Neither do I," Isaac agreed.

He had to think quickly. Come up with some sort of plan.

"Don't nobody move!" Tucker shouted.

"Tucker, what the hell are you doing?" Isaac snapped quietly.

"I don't know," Tucker stammered. "I panicked."

He peaked out the window again to see that the men were now aiming their weapons at the building.

"Whoever you are, step out slowly and we won't kill you," one of the men said.

He was tall and lanky, with a balding round head and a thick mustache that extended to his chin on either side.

"That don't sound too promisin', Isaac," Tucker warned.

"Look, we don't want any trouble," Isaac called, shaking his head.

"Well, that's good," the man called back. "Neither do we. So, how's about we lower the guns, and you all come out. Nice and easy."

The men outside lowered their guns.

"Isaac, this don't feel right," Tucker said, his eyes wide.

"No, it does not," Isaac agreed.

"How 'bout this," the balding man said. "I'll count to three. If you don't come out, we start shooting."

Isaac bowed his head and sighed. They didn't have any options. They were cornered and outnumbered, and would most certainly be killed for whatever stuff they had.

"All right," Isaac said. "All right, we're coming out."

Isaac stood and held his gun aloft, carefully pulling the door open as he heard another car door open and slam shut.

A high and then a low whistle rang out as Isaac and Tucker stepped out of the building, and a man in a leather jacket stepped toward them, twirling a wooden bat wrapped in barbed wire. Two of the other men quickly disarmed Isaac and Tucker, leaving them to stand with their hands up in surrender.

"Well, look at this. Simon, get a load of Lennie over there," the man said, gesturing between the balding man and Tucker with his bat. "And you must be George," he said, looking at Isaac. "I'm Negan."

Tucker snorted.

"Somethin' funny?" Negan asked.

"No, just… what kind of name is Megan for a guy?" Tucker asked.

"Negan," Simon repeated.

"Right, Negan, that's cool. Yeah," Tucker rambled.

Negan looked Tucker up and down before turning around and walking back toward the car a few paces.

"Get them on their knees," he ordered.

"You heard the man," Simon said, gesturing for them to kneel.

Isaac ground his teeth but got to his knees, Tucker following suit.

"Now, then, I've got a proposition for the two of you," Negan said, turning back to them with a grin. "See, we are the Saviors. We save people," he said, gesturing to his companions as he walked back and forth. "So, I want you to take us back to whatever community you're from so we can save them."

"We aren't from a community," Tucker said.

Isaac closed his eyes, mentally cursing Tucker.

"You know what?" Negan said. "I believe you. In that case, how about this? You come work for me, join my community. Join the cause." He said the last bit with feigned enthusiasm. "Get three squares a day and a warm place to lay your head. Or we kill you and take all your stuff. What do you say?"

"Well, it doesn't seem like you're givin' us much of a choice," Tucker said.

"Tucker, shut up," Isaac snapped.

"No, no. Let Tucker here say his piece," Negan chided.

Tucker glanced at Isaac before looking back at Negan.

"Join or die? Don't sound too sincere," he went on. "Any kind of guy who puts anyone on their knees and offers that as a fair trade, ain't the kind of guy I'd follow."

Negan hummed, sticking his tongue in his cheek as he looked down on Tucker.

"You are some kind of stupid, aren't you?" He asked.

Isaac clenched his jaw as Tucker straightened.

"Well, Megan, I may not be the smartest guy," he said, "but if there's one thing I know, it's people. And you ain't my kind of people."

Isaac shook his head.

"Well, can't argue with that," Negan sighed.

Before Isaac could register what was happening, there was a crack of wood. Tucker fell forward, catching himself on his hands before pushing himself back up. Blood trailed down his face, and Negan brought his bat back down on his skull again and again until Tucker lay twitching on the ground, his bright blue eyes empty and staring at Isaac.

Negan swung his bat, Tucker's blood splattering across Isaac's face as Negan let out a whoop.

"Sorry about your friend," he said, looking at Isaac. "I just wanted to make a point. Let you know that I am one hundred percent serious when I offer you this one last time. Join me, or I will kill you."

Isaac stared blankly at Tucker for a moment, still trying to process what had just happened as he turned his head to look up at Negan. He swallowed hard and nodded once.

"Sounds fair enough to me."

Present…,

"Hey there, Isaac," Negan said, leaning forward. "Miss me?"

"You're alive," Isaac said, not bothering to mask his astonishment. "Thank God," he sighed heavily, visibly relaxing.

"Yes. I'm alive. And no thanks to you," Negan said, pushing himself to his feet. "Or Dwight, or—most importantly—Simon."

"When we saw your car," Isaac said quickly, only for Negan to cut him off by holding up his hand.

"I'm not mad," Negan said. "I get it. I'm not here for you to grovel—that's not what you do. You see, and you plan, and I'm here for something else. You see, I swung by the Junkyard and confirmed your story about Simon disobeying orders, and, boy, am I disappointed."

"I am, too," Isaac said gravely.

Negan nodded, stepping toward Isaac.

"I found something else out, too," Negan said. "Apparently, the no good, spineless rat that's been screwing us over is Dwight."

Isaac furrowed his brow.

"Makes sense, given our precarious relationship," Negan sighed, turning away. "It would seem, Isaac, that you're the only person I can count on to tell me the damn truth."

"Well, you've proven yourself to be a capable leader. I couldn't imagine someone else would lead us the way you have. Not even Simon," Isaac said firmly.

"I know you and Simon are close, practically glued at the hip. So, that means a lot coming from you," Negan said, glancing over his shoulder as he moved around the room. "But I've got to ask. Why did you tell me?"

"At risk of sounding like I'm neck deep up your ass—my loyalty is to you. Not Simon, not Dwight, or anyone else," Isaac said, shaking his head. "The Saviors… they've become family, and I want to make sure we survive. That's not going to happen with Simon calling the shots."

Negan pursed his lips, eyeing Isaac.

"No bullshit, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," he said. "All right, enough of the sappy shit. We've got planning to do."

Simon sat at one end of the table with Negan at the other, polishing his bat. Isaac sat on one side with Arat next to him and Dwight directly across from him, beside Gary. Simon picked at his nails, hesitant to start talking.

"I thought they killed you and that you were gone, like—" Simon snapped his fingers, "—like that."

Negan said nothing, continuing to polish his bat.

"I lacked discipline. And I made it personal. And that's why I moved things from infection to extermination at the Hilltop," Simon explained. "Yes… things went bad. Though I think it's possible we may have found ourselves in a similar tactical situation, regardless of approach. We don't know that. So, I'll own it. I just ask that you give me a pass on this one. I'll make it up to you. I promise you that."

Negan chuckled, resting the bat on his shoulder as he looked at Simon.

"You know, I remember when I took this place," he said, standing. "When you helped me take this place. Wasn't sure I wanted to keep you on board. I mean, before me, before there was a system in place, what you did," Negan said, as he walked around the table. "Killing all those men, those boys in that settlement so long ago…, a lot of people would think that is some psychotic shit. Like that is the work of a demented, broken, goddamn ghoul. Like that's not someone that you want to work with, let alone stand next to."

Negan stopped behind Simon

"So, I figured I'd keep my eye on you. And I did. And everything seemed to work out right up until this point," Negan sighed. "I'm gonna need you on your knees."

Simon pursed his lips and glanced over his shoulder before pushing himself from the table and getting down to his knees, clasping his hands behind his back.

"You gonna make a move, or is that it?" Negan asked.

"No move to make," Simon said simply.

"No. There isn't," Negan agreed. "All is forgiven. Get your ass up." He clapped Simon on the shoulder as he passed, heading back for his seat at the head of the table. "We're good."

Simon blinked in surprise and got to his feet.

"I won't let you down," he insisted. "Not you."

"I appreciate the hell out of that," Negan said, tapping his bat against the table twice.

Isaac pulled the map out of his back pocket and unfolded it, laying it flat on the table to show several black circles and an x all in a cluster.

"This is where we start…," Negan said, pointing to one circle toward the middle. "The first of our new staging posts. See, we do not have to take the Hilltop. We just have to make sure that the farmers can't leave. We stay nimble. We stay light. We plink their asses every time one of them tries to poke their head out. Sometimes right in front, sometimes from a mile away, but every goddamn time."

"Like they did to us?" Dwight wondered aloud.

"Exactly. Tit for tat. You can thank Isaac for that," Negan praised. "Tomorrow afternoon, I am going to take a ten-head team to this spot. I am stocking it with supplies and ammo that Dr. Smartypants is making. Everyone else here," he said, pointing at the others, "is gonna do the same thing; same time, different spot. End of day tomorrow, we will have cache after cache around that Hilltop and always be spitting distance from a reload. There will be teams around that place… snipin' them, one by one, day after day, until we have full… attrition."

"It's an ambitious plan with testicular heft, I'll give you that," Simon said, looking between Negan and Isaac. "Very happy to have you back, boss man."

"Damn good to be back. All right," Negan said, "everybody, clear out. Except for you, Dwight. Got a few things we need to kick around."

Isaac and the others got to their feet and headed for the door, leaving Negan alone with Dwight. Isaac started down the hall with Simon at his side, while Gary and Arat started off to gather their teams.

The moment Simon and Isaac made it around the corner, Simon yanked Isaac into the nearest room and shut the door.

"This is bad," Simon hissed, pulling at his hair. "This is really bad."

"Calm down," Isaac said easily. "We can figure this out."

"How long have you known he was back?" Simon asked, almost accusatory.

"Since just before the meeting. He asked me to help him come up with a plan. I didn't have time to warn you," Isaac insisted.

Simon nodded, hands on his hips.

"We've only got one option now," Simon said, wiping at his mustache. "Only one way to make sure he stays gone."

"Simon?" Isaac asked, knowing full well where the man was going.

"Are you with me?" Simon asked, stepping toward him. "I'm not saying anything long and drawn out. Simple and clean. End it. Once and for all."

"You're gonna need backup," Isaac said. "Before, during, after. People who will support your taking charge."

"You're right. I know I can get my guys," Simon nodded. "And I can sway Dwight. I know I can."

"Do that, and you'll be set up," Isaac assured.

"All right," Simon said. "You focus on this plan of yours, put on a good show. I'll take care of the rest. Thank you, Isaac" he said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I knew I could trust you."

Without another word, Simon slipped out of the room. Isaac smiled.

Isaac stood outside by the dumpster beside Dwight, who paced back and forth. They said nothing to each other. They knew what was about to happen. No need for chitchat.

A door opened and Gary walked out, followed by some others, including Gregory.

"Hey," Gary greeted. "Some shit, huh? Yeah. Got to think, uh… you wanted this before we did."

Dwight bowed his head, saying nothing. Another door opened and Simon came out, followed by a small group. They all formed a circle in front of the dumpster, Simon moving to stand in the middle.

"If you're here right now, you're in," he announced. "We can talk about approaches and finesses, but you are in. No take backs. We need to make this quick, quiet, and respectful. Man's done a lot for us. He deserves that."

Simon turned to Dwight.

"You… have some legitimate personal issues with the man. The kill is yours if you want it. Something quiet. I mean, not a knife," Simon chuckled. "Can't make it that personal. A silencer. We call a meeting. And that's it. The next order of business is to set the break, to start the healing."

He looked around at the others.

"The catalyzing event to facilitate that is the destruction of the Hilltop and its residents. We'll make it a monument of compliance. Sorry, Gregory," he said, nodding to Gregory. "And then… we get on with our lives. Right Dwight? Isaac?" He asked, looking between the two.

They said nothing, and Dwight gave Negan's signature whistle, receiving an answering call as Negan stepped out from behind the dumpster.

"Thank you, D, Isaac. I'll take it from here," he said, chuckling.

"Three… two… one," Negan counted off, and several silenced gunshots took out the surrounding Saviors, leaving only Negan, Dwight, Isaac, Simon, and Gregory.

Arat, D.J. and others appeared from their hiding places, guns aloft and aimed at Simon. Simon stared wildly between Isaac and Dwight.

"You son of a bitch!" Simon roared, launching himself toward Isaac only to be grabbed and held back.

"Now there is the Simon that I know," Negan grinned. "He comes right at you instead of that backstabby bullshit."

"Why?" Simon demanded. "After everything he did to you?" He asked Dwight. "Why do this?"

"He'd win," Dwight shrugged.

"And you?" He asked, glaring at Isaac. "After everything we've been through. I thought you were my friend!"

Isaac stared blankly back at him.

"Oh, ice cold," Negan laughed, smashing Lucille through the skull of one of the dead Saviors. "You killed all the garbage people, Simon. After I specifically told you not to do that shit. Yeah, Isaac told me about that the same day," he said, smashing another skull as the Saviors holding Simon turned him to face Negan fully. "But… after all this, and me being me… I'm still gonna give you your shot. You want to be the man, you got to beat the man. If you can do that… then, hell…," Negan hummed. "You should be the man."

The Saviors were gathered on the warehouse floor, Negan and Simon standing on either side of a ring of people. It was as silent as a boneyard as the two men stared each other down.

"Everyone!" Simon called, stepping forward and facing the others as he removed his jacket. "After this is done, we get to work. Just know that I didn't want this. But the Sanctuary must stand." He rolled up his sleeves above the elbow, walking around the circle. "This is not the man to prosecute this conflict. Just want to say… a grateful enclave—" he swung around and struck Negan across the jaw. "Thanks you!"

Simon dragged Negan to his feet, and struck him again. Negan backed up, and Simon charged him. Negan caught him and elbowed him in the shoulder blades before shoving him to the ground. They grabbed for each other, grunting, punching, and struggling to take the other down.

Finally, Negan slammed his fist in Simon's nose, making him wobbly on his feet. He continued an onslaught of blows, dodging a swing from Simon and headbutting him before kicking his feet out from under him. Simon hit the ground hard, and Negan promptly stomped his diaphragm.

From the corner of his eye, Isaac saw Dwight turn and shove Gregory around a corner. Simon gasped and choked as Negan kicked him in the ribs repeatedly. Negan drew back and circled around him. Isaac covered his smirk when Dwight returned without Gregory. At that same moment, Negan climbed on top of Simon and wrapped his hands around his neck. His groans echoed throughout the chamber.

"You went for it all at the Hilltop. You got Saviors killed, and then you ran away like a coward!" Negan hissed.

Simon reached out in Isaac's direction, a desperate plea for help as his face turned red and his eyes bulged from their sockets.

"You got shown up one too many times," Negan went on. "Those people, they are always gonna know that there's a loophole, a way to skate. They are always gonna be looking for that chance to push back, so now I gotta kill all of 'em just like I'm gonna kill you!"

Isaac winced at the sound of Simon's windpipe cracking. Negan stood, his breath shallow.

"What an asshole," he said, walking off.

Isaac lounged in his arm chair, sipping on a glass of water as he gazed at Annie's photo in his hand. By now, Simon would be hanging from the fence and, having served his purpose, Dwight would be thrown in a cell. He smiled as he ran his thumb along Annie's face. Just a little bit longer.