"Rick stared- looking from the pool of blood that surrounded Spencer to the bat in her hands, shocked.
"We had a deal..."
"Rick!" Negan cheerfully plucked the bloodied bat from her grip, smiling as he addressed the shell-shocked crowd in front of him. "Look everybody, it's Rick!"
She was still standing in Spencer's puddle of blood. That was all she registered for a moment, and she stepped back- booted feet splashing backwards, leaving bloody footprints on the asphalt.
Rick looked over at her, eyes wide. "What did you do?"
"She helped me clean up a mess. Kid knows her shit, Rick. Anyways- how about a thank you? I know this relationship started out a little rough with me beating the holy hell out of your friends, and we're never gonna sit around and braid each others hairs and tell each other our darkest secrets, but how about a thank you? I just bent over backwards to show you how reasonable I am. Your kid hid in the back of one of our trucks and machine gunned a bunch of my men, but I brought him back here, safe and sound, and fed him spaghetti. One of your people was trying to convince me to kill you and put him in charge, so I took him out for you-"
Bang.
The gunshot split the silence, and a moment later Negan was screaming.
"Ah fuck, what the shit! What the fucking shit!?" Negan stumbled backwards, looking at Lucille in shock.
A woman with kinked hair and tan skin dove forward, pushing Rosita to the ground and putting a blade to her throat.
"You just... you fucking shot Lucille!" Negan growled.
"She got in the way!" Rosita hissed boldly from between clenched teeth.
Negan smirked, though that murderous glint was back in his eyes as he bent down to examine the bullet casing.
"Well shit. Darling, you may be stupid, but you showed some fucking ingenuity. Look at those creases- this is home made, ain't it?Speak up, lady- who made this?"
"I did!" Rosita growled.
NEgan smirked. "I don't beleive you. Arat- move that knife up a little.\" the cold steel moved to rest along Rosita's cheekbone.
"Lucille's smooth surface is never gonna be the same again, so why should yours? I'm gonna give you one last chance before I cut up that pretty little Spanish face of yours..."
"I. Was. ME." Rosita growled, lifting her head forward as the blade parted her skin, blood weeping down the sides of her face like tears.
"What a badass." Negan smirked slightly. "Too bad you're a liar. Arat- kill somebody."
"No!"
"Nobody else has to die!"
"It was me!"
The girl with kinky hair turned and drew for one horrible moment she wasn't sure she was sure Carl was going to die- before Olivia's body hit the porch with a dull thud. The silence echoed.
One beat of silence, two...
"See Rick? Reasonable. One of your people tried to kill me and shot my Lucille, so I gave you one less mouth to fed. And by the looks of her, that mouth did some major damage." he eyed Olivia's corpse with a mixture of disgust and humor. "Now, I wouldn't have picked her to go, personally." he sighed, looking almost remorseful- "But I guess Arat didn't trust her."
Rick looked physically and emotionally spent. He stood, looking utterly defeated, at the body lying in the street. The only sound was a small trickle of blood dripping off the porch.
"Your shit is waiting for you at the gate. Just go." Rick said, voice void of anything resembling emotion.
"Sure thing Rick. Just as soon as I find the one who made this bullet. Arat-"
"It was me!" Eugene stepped forward, tears dripping down his face, as he sniffled pathetically. He inhaled noisily, snuffling slightly. "It was only me."
Negan paused, looking at him dubiously. "You?"
Eugene started breathing quickly. "It required one spent casing, one four holed turret re-loader, powder, funnel for the powder-"
"Shut up. I believe you." He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. "Lucille give me strength." before he sighed. "Rick- I'm taking your bullet maker, and all the shit waiting for me at the gate. And whatever you got- it ain't good enough. You're in one serious hole after today, you got that? Let's move out!"
"No! No, please- take me!" Rosita broke down in tears.
Negan smirked slightly. "Rick, I ain't gonna lie- your kitchen is a goddamn mess. See you next time."
And just like that, they were gone. All the little ants filed into their trucks and drove away, leaving them with two corpses, one less person, and shattered spirits.
Rick stood there for a moment, head in his hands, before he looked at her for a long moment.
"What happened?"
"He killed Spencer. I didn't want him to come back. Then you got here."
Rick inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You were supposed to keep watch."
"I did."
"You did, huh?" he looked down at the corpse at her feet, gaze searing.
"You said keep watch! Not babysit him!" she paused, looking down at the dead body and realizing how wrong that sounded, talking about a dead man like that. Spencer might've been a jerk, but he hadn't deserved this. No one did. "Look, I didn't know he was going to try to make a power play. And I didn't know Negan was gonna kill him for it..."
"Just go."
The paused, looking at him for a moment, surprised.
"Go." Rick growled, something flashing in his eyes that she hadn't seen in a long time. She turned and sprinted into the house, pushing past Carl and running into her room.
She knew Rick didn't mean it- he was frustrated, hell, they all were- but seriously. She couldn't protect the whole camp. Hell, she could barely protect herself, now that Daryl was gone.
All she could do was play damage control and stay out of Negan's way, praying they didn't come for another supply pickup too soon.
That was all their lives had been reduced to. They were mice, scuttling around, frantically gathering resources and trying to avoid the deadly fall of Negan's boots.
She flopped onto her bed, buried her face in the pillow and cried. The room still smelled like her father- like gasoline and fresh cut grass.
Today was a shit day.
They stood, gathered within the walls of the Hilltop, silent and buried in thought.
Gregory- coward that he was- had denied them the people they needed to fight. But the people- well, they had volunteered themselves.
"We still don't have enough people." Rick said, sounding grim.
"We get the right hardware, it won't matter. Blow 'em all up." Daryl remarked from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
He frowned, looking at the group of people in front of him expectantly. "Where is she?"
"I left her back at Alexandria. Negan's taken a shine to her. He can write off my absence as scavenging- but her- she keeps him occupied, keeps the peace as best she can."
Daryl frowned, looking at the ground. "Her arm?"
"Still splinted. She doesn't complain- she's like you- so I don't know if that's bad or good. But it's still broke, as far as I know."
Daryl simply grunted, scuffing his boot in the dirt.
Ever since his escape from Negan's place and the fact he'd made his way to the Hillttop, it was all he'd been thinking about- his girl.
Shed's looked like shit the last time he'd seen her- during the first raid. Pale an hell and looking half-dead. It'd killed him to think of her- curled up in her room in pain somewhere, without him to look after her. He knew Rick would take care of her- he was like a brother to him- but it wasn't the same as taking care of her himself.
Jesus frowned, looking a bit plussed by the news, though his expression was still set firmly.
"I think it's time I took you to the Kingdom."
The Kingdom, as it was, turned out to be a bust.
It was a cruel twist of fate, really- to find such a large place, so well equipped with people, fighters- and a King who refused to cooperate and help them fight.
"Man, let's just go." Daryl stalked towards the gate, looking pissed as hell at the lack of support they'd received. On top of it all- he found out Carol was alive, in the middle of nowhere, alone, living, like some sort of recluse.
"We will. But you're staying here."
"What the hell man!?"
Rick paused, stepping forward, holding his hands up. "Ezekiel offered you a place here. It's the safest move and you know it."
"What are you gonna tell Jamie! Huh? Tell her her old man is a balless coward who left her there so he could stay safe? That ain't right and you know it."
"I'll take care of her. She'll understand. She has to."
"I know you will, but she's my kid..." Daryl ran a hand though his greasy hair, staring into the distance.
"Just... give her something for me."
"Of course."
Daryl pulled a wrinkled, folded sheet of paper from his pocket and a rather dull pencil out, and leaned against the wall, writing hurriedly, before he was folding it back up and handing it to Rick a moment later.
"You tell that kid I love her."
"You know I will." Rick conceded, slipping the letter into his pocket. "She'll just be happy to know you aren't with him anymore."
"Yeah, well you tell her I'm coming back for her. I dunno when, but I am, dammit..."
"Don't have to tell her that, Daryl. She already knows it. She keeps watch every morning. I know she's good for killing walkers, but it ain't walkers she's looking for on that horizon. 'S you."
Daryl frowned, once again looking at his boots.
"Try to talk to Ezekiel. Wear him down. He'll fight- he has to."
Daryl nodded.
"I open this gate and you're gone." Daryl said, looking towards the outer gate a bit unhappily.
"Yeah- but we'll be back soon. Might find a way to get Jamie along with us." Rick spoke easily, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.
Daryl's eyes brightened slightly, and he nodded.
A moment alter, they were outside- back into the shithole they called a world- and the gates were falling closed behind them.
The warm orange of candle light flickered off the grain of the kitchen table and seemed to warm the room, fending off the darkness of night that'd gathered outside and breathing life into the normally desolate space.
Rick sat at the table across from her, before he was pulling a wrinkled folded sheet of paper from his pocket.
She stared, and Rick paused.
"He wanted me to give this to you. You'll have to get rid of it- if someone else found it..."
She was already snatching the folded paper from his hands, practically ripping it in her haste to unfold the crinkled mess.
Her hands were shaking, heart pounding in ehr chest, as she stared at the paper.
In faded pencil, chicken scratch handwriting danced across the page in crooked lines...
Hey babygirl,
I missed you.
Rick says you're doing alright. I'm sorry I can't be there, but it's safer this way.
Take care of yourself. Take care of your arm. I know it's broken, and it's gonna hurt for awhile. Don't let it get any worse than it is.
I'm doing fine, and I'll be back as soon as I can.
Love,
Dad
She must've stared at it for minutes, just reading it over and over. She memorized every dip in writing, every tear in the page- he must've been writing on something rough, not a table or anything.
She committed every word to memory, pouring over it, getting lost in the words she had- all that she really had.
It was so much less than she wanted. Than she needed- right now. She wanted him to be sitting with her at the kitchen table over a dead rabbit, or re-fitting the fletchings on her arrows and explaining how to find the best wood for arrows, not... gone.
As far as she was concerned, he was worlds away from her.
It was so much less than she needed. But it was enough. It had to be.
She looked down, surprised to see the words blurring on the page in front of her. Since when did she cry about... anything?
Still, she took a breath, swallowing her tears. Now wasn't the time for... whatever the hell feeling this was.
She wordlessly put the corner of the page to the candle, watching it catch fire.
She stood, dropping the flaming paper into the sink and turning towards the stairs.
She was stopped by Rick's hand on her shoulder, and she turned.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." she cursed herself for how shaky she sounded. "I'm fine." she turned, brushing his hand from her shoulder and retreating upstairs, leaving him to stare after her.
She was fine. After all- it wasn't like she had a choice to be anything but.