"I want you up top with Michonne."
"I wanna be on the wall. With Carl and Gabriel. I can do it. Or with you."
"I want you further back. We got enough bodies up front. Rick made friends with trashy people, they're on they're way. You be the sniper. Help Michonne."
"Rick knows a lot of trashy people. I still wanna be up front."
"You go where I say or you don't do nothing at all." Daryl growled from where he sat on the could, pouring over sidewalk chalk sketches.
"How trashy are these people anyways? Like, bud lite trashy or blue ribbon beer trashy?"
"Trash people. Not trashy people. My Dad says they live in a junk yard." Carl crouched over where he sat by the sketches, nodding to his own portion.
They were back in Alexandria. Guns were being passed around like bottles on the fourth of July, and when there was a loud rumbling sound everyone jolted to attention as two garbage trucks and a beat up RV came rumbling down the street towards the gate.
"That must be them."
"Just cuz they're trash people, don't mean they can't be trashy too."
"They're helping us. That's what matters. You-" Daryl gave her a pointed look. "Keep your mouth shut and stay by Michonne."
The gates rattled open and the trucks poured in. People came buzzing out of the backs of garbage trucks like hornets, all dressed rather plainly in dark colors, all looking around waspishly. Not hostile, but guarded and curious. They weren't scruffy like scavangers- but they were far from clean cut.
Daryl ruffled her hair. "See you when it's over half-pint." Daryl started to walk away.
"I'm almost as tall as your shoulder Dad!"
Daryl hid the grin on his face as he kept walking. His shoulders were stiff. He'd be a lot more relaxed when today was over and everyone was safe. Or, as safe as they could be.
"Wanna see if we can steal a walk before we have to split up?" Carl stood, offering her a hand up. She nodded, and they took a turn down the main street, hands brushing against one another occasionally as they watched the people.
The trash people didn't waste words. They tended to clump together in small groups and watch those around them. Jamie fingered her pistol before sliding it back into it's holster, her bow and quiver still slung over her shoulder.
Daryl had told her to stay with Michonne, and she noticed Rick Michonne with one of the trash people, who was sporting a rather odd haircut.
"Do you care if I lay with him afterward?"
Jamie stopped dead, before she kept walking, shooting a glance over at Carl who had an odd expression on his face.
As soon as they turned the corner, she frowned. "Did that weird lady just offer your Dad a threesome? Or did she seriously just want the after?"
Carl sighed. "You were right. They can be trashy trash people. But they're on our side."
"And they're too friendly. You're not careful you're gonna come downstairs and trash lady will be making you breakfast."
Carl smirked.
Jamie sighed. "I'm serious. She's got bad vibes. And a bad haircut. Women like that who try and get with you're partner right in front of you- they're no good. My mom had a word for women like that."
Carl nodded, lips a firm line, before he grinned. "No momma trash in my house."
She burst out laughing, drawing attention from several others, and Carl grabbed her hand and dragged her further down the street, shaking his head. They were both coping with the tension in the air in their own ways.
Michonne came striding down the street, nodding to Jamie. "Seems you're with me. Carl- see you soon."
She fell into step beside Michonne, trying not to look conspicuous as she threw a glance over her shoulder back towards the gate.
"They'll be fine." Michonne didn't even look over at her, continuing to stride forward, nonplussed. "They'll need cover." she nodded towards the building in the distance. "We'll take the balconies. Daryl wanted you to have this." she handed over a rifle- a 10 shot 22 with a scope. Jamie took it, nodding appreciatively. It would be much better long-range than her bow.
A blonde woman clad in plain brown clothes caught up to them. "Jadis sent me."
Michonne nodded. "We'll be going up top." she inclined her chin towards the brick building in front of them, and all three of them mounted the stairs.
They found their place on the terrace, and Michonne nodded to Jamie. "Take the other balcony."
Jamie nodded and went to stand.
"Why?" the blonde spoke up, her blue eyes inquisitive.
"More lines of sight, we can cover more angles." Michonne seemed non-plussed by their relatively quiet comrade. The blonde nodded to Jamie. "I will go with you."
"Alright." she really wasn't looking for a partner in conversation anymore. The air was electric- tension that could be cut by a knife continued to ratchet up with every breath, every silent moment. She chose her perch on the next balcony over, leveling the barrel of the gun on the railing and peering thru the scope towards the gates, trying to catch sight of the gates in the distance.
She heard the rumbling of trucks in the distance. Her breathing quickened. She couldn't hear what was being said- she roved her scope down to where Carl crouched behind the wall with his own gun leveled, trying to glean any information on what was being said based on his posture. She couldn't read anything from the way he was crouched. Rick was standing, gesturing- she turned the scope down, roving the ground, trying to see to the very back corner, to get a glimpse of her father's back...
Guns were being cocked. She jerked her scope back, to see the trash people had pulled their guns and had them pointed at Carl.
Before she could even register what she'd seen and what had happened, the butt of a rifle slammed into the side of her face with a resounding crack, and her rifle slipped from her hands as she hit the balcony floor below her like a ragdoll.
"Michonne..." she tried to croak it out. But the footsteps beside her and her own voice were drowned out by a cacophony of gunfire.
The world was still dipping and diving before her- for one terrible moment she was falling, falling through the steel bars of the balcony to the ground below. Her entire body went rigid as a board, and gradually, the terror gave way to nausea, dizziness, and the vague taste of copper in her mouth, with a muted buzzing in her head.
She was supposed to do something...
Those trashy bastards betrayed us...
She managed to get her hands underneath her, pulling herself so she was half-sitting. One deep breath to help her shake off the dizziness, before she staggered to her feet, her rifle entirely forgotten beneath her. She hadn't even realized that the gunfire had stopped over the ringing in her own ears.
The bitch went for me first, she's going for Michonne next...
She stumbled around the corner, placing both palms on the wall to steady herself, to find Michonne with her back to the balcony metal floor and trash bitch's hands closed around her throat, on top of her and choking.
She ignored how the world pitched forward beneath her feet and stumbled forward, sinking the toe of her boot into the woman's ribcage. One blow beneath the ribs had her bent double, and her second kick went for under the jaw, sending her sprawling, off the top of Michonne. She fell to her knees, dropping fists and trying to ignore the nails and fingers digging into her cheeks and desperately reaching for her eyes in response.
She forwent fists entirely, simply raining down blows with her elbow.
"Fucking... bitch!" the spat hoarsely.
A finger caught her in the eye and she was rolled to the bottom , fingers wrapping around her throat and pushing, making the world sway again. Blood that wasn't her own dripping onto her face, and the woman leering down at her, eyes dark as the deep sea, mouth open and leering, intent on the kill.
She felt like she was walking on air. Or like that time when she was five and had been so sick she'd had to go to the hospital, and how the entire truck ride there, she'd felt as though they were floating. Voices so far away, she couldn't even hear the purr of the engine or the hands holding her close or the fingers tearing into her neck...
And then as the world started to go black around her, Michonne stumbled into view, her dark hand looking out of place as it closed on the woman's blonde ponytail, pulling her up, up, off of her, removing the weight from her chest and the hands from her neck and letting her gasp a breath, two, as Michonne pinned the woman against the railing and they fought.
She was a puddle. Her body was liquid and she was dripping through the metal grate of the balcony, struggling, struggling to get her hands beneath her and pull herself back from the fray. She had to get up. Had to fight.
She managed to roll onto her stomach- Michonne shrieked- somehow they'd changed positions, so the blonde now had Michonne's back to the railing. She crawled forward on all fours, cutting her hand open on something sharp and stumbling to her feet, pushing forward and grabbing the woman by her hair, pulling her back from where she was clawing and choking Michonne with one hand, dragging her back by the hair with one hand and swinging her fist, desperate to make contact, with the other.
It gave Michonne the room she needed to escape between the railing and the blonde's body, skirting to the side so Jamie could continue to push forward, forcing the blonde against the railing, Michonne pressing in from the other side...
With both their efforts combined into a quick effort, the blonde was forced over the railing and screamed the entire way down. The dull thwack of flesh against the pavement hardly even registered.
And then- resounding silence. Michonne sagged against the railing, chest heaving- the side of her face was covered in blood, and Jamie knew she couldn't look much better herself, but the silence was deafening...
"Michonne, my Dad, Rick-"
"Go." Michonne spoke hoarsely, and it was all she needed, running downstairs, stumbling into the street. She fumbled for her pistol and rushed down the road, keeping to the background as much as she could. 2 of their people were on there knees in the streets, being held at gunpoint by 2 trash people, and she ducked behind those houses, doing her best to keep away.
She had to get to the center of things, to get to Negan...
Arms wrapped around her, dragging her between houses.
She kicked out wildly, throwing elbows behind her and sinking her teeth into someone's upper arm...
Only to receive a rough swat on the ear. "Dammit Jamie, would you listen to me for a minute?" a familiar gruff voice hissed.
She flopped onto the grass, confused, only to look up and come face to face with her father.
"Dad?"
"Jesus babygirl, what did they do to you? You look like hell." he reached out and tried to touch her cheek, and she flinched. It really hurt- she'd taken the butt of a rifle to the face, though, it was supposed to hurt...
"I'm alright Daddy."
And the next thing she knew, her sore body was being pulled into large arms, a rough hand weaving into her ponytail and tucking her head beneath his chin. "Thank god. I heard that screaming, saw that body fall from the balcony... thought... was 'fraid it was you..."
She pulled back from his hug, trying to give him a smile despite the way her eye watered and twitched at the motion. "Trash bitch tried to kill us. But we got her. Let's finish this shit."
Daryl nodded. "I got some friends you'll wanna meet." he smiled, turning. She found herself face to face with Maggie, Jesus, Enid, and the rest of the hilltop.
"Load your pistol. I want you next to me. We're going in."
For once, she wasn't scared of the silence. As they worked their way forward, they peered around the corners of building. Carl and Rick were on there knees, with Negan and Lucillie beside him, surrounded by his people. From the other direction, however, someone else approached. they caught a glimpse of them between the houses...
"Dad. It's Ezikiel. And he brought the tiger."
Jesus stepped forward, nodding. "Wait. Let Eziekiel knock them off balance, then we follow them in, push them out."
There was a roar, and shouting and gunfire. And she charged forward, towards the chaos, raising her pistol and firing as she went. They were the hunters, not the hunted.
The roar of truck engines- once awaited with fear and apprehension- grew louder, before tearing off down towards the gate. The gunfire grew in magnitude, before dying down to the occasional few pops, and then, nothing.
And in the silence- Alexandria stood.