Chapter 1: One Day More

~Dwight~

Air hissing.

My head snaps up, finding a crossbow bolt sticking out of the rear tire of one of the motorcycles belonging to one of the other Saviors. A piece of paper is wrapped around its shaft. I pull the arrow out, unwrapping the paper. Written on it is a single word.

Tomorrow.

It's clearly a message from a Dixon, evident by the bolt. Probably from Daryl, because I don't recognize the handwriting. I check to make sure no one is watching before writing my reply, putting the paper back on the bolt and loading it into my crossbow. I spot Daryl in the distance, and I fire the bolt in his direction. He pulls it out of the wall, nodding once before taking off.

Tomorrow, Clary's war truly begins.

And she's bringing the battle to us.

~Clary~

The team up was Carl's idea, and I didn't have a reason to say no. That's how I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of the van as Carl drives to the rendezvous point to meet Rick.

I've known Carl for so long that I know all of his mannerisms, each expression he wears, and what he says without speaking. He knows the best way to get me to open up is through music, and I haven't spoken a word to him all day. So Carl puts a mixtape in the CD compartment, pressing play. I recognize which one it is by the first song; "Danger Zone" by Kenny Loggins. I glance down at the case to confirm that it's the one I think it is; in Spencer's handwriting, the front reads "Mix #23." I shake my head, looking out the window instead. Carl knows that it's my favorite mixtape, consisting of Led Zeppelin, Twisted Sister, and Joan Jett, among others.

Any other time, I would've been belting out the words with him. I remain silent, staring out the window. Carl sings along, elbowing me to try to get me to join in.

I don't. Not even when "Black Dog" plays.

"Alright," Carl says with a sigh, turning the radio off. "You're awfully quiet. That's unnerving for someone like you. Don't you have something to communicate in your Dixon caveman grunts?"

"I'm alright," I reply, then turn to look at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you want that in caveman?"

Carl snickers, shaking his head. "In all seriousness, though—you're quiet. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just thinking."

"About what?" Carl prompts.

I sigh softly. "One day more to revolution. One day more but not a day closer to killing Negan."

"You don't know that," Carl tells me. "One day more, and he might be dead. At your hands. Isn't that what you wanted, Dixon?"

"It's, uh, it's Raleigh."

"What?"

"I kinda-maybe-sorta went off on Gregory 'cause he kept getting my name wrong." Carl gives me a look. "Okay, so I threw a bottle of tequila at him 'cause he pissed me off. He threatened Jesus. What was I supposed to do?"

Carl proposes, "Murder him? Cut out his tongue?"

"Christ, someone's violent today," I say.

"Iron?"

"Carl."

"Tie him to a tree and leave him for walkers?"

"Carl, no."

"Carl yes." I stare at him for a second, and Carl smirks. "The tables have turned, haven't they?"

I shake my head at him, knowing that Carl wasn't serious when he was offering punishments. "Anyways, I said my name was Clary Raleigh, but the funny thing is, it just doesn't sound right. It's like there's two sides to me now. There's Clary Dixon, the leader of the revolution. And then there's Cheyenne Raleigh, and that's who I am at home."

"So who are you now?" Carl questions.

I shrug. "I'm whoever I gotta be."

"You know who I think you are?"

"Who?" I ask.

"You're Clary. You're not Clary Dixon, leader of the revolution; and you're not Cheyenne Raleigh, the sweetheart hidden under the anger."

"Hey, I am not a sweetheart."

"Yeah, you are," Carl argues. "My point is, you're Clary. Just Clary. You're the Clary that I knew before we were even at the prison, the Clary that I knew at the prison, and the Clary that I knew before Negan. You're who you've always been. The only difference is now you have a title, a right hand man, and an entire militia standing with you. You, Clary, you're the one that brought us all together. You're the one that's connecting us. You're the one that they'll follow anywhere. And me? You're my best friend. Hell yeah, I'll follow you anywhere. It's not like I haven't already been doing that for two, three years."

The faintest smile appears on my lips, the corners just barely turning up. I tease, "I like Jesus more than you."

Carl glances over at me, feigning offense when he realizes that I'm joking. "Wow. And here I thought we were having a bonding moment." Carl reaches for the radio, then pauses. "Will you actually sing along this time?"

"Wait, Carl, wait," I say, stopping him before he can press play.

"Everything okay?" Carl questions, pulling his hand away.

"I, uh, I got something I gotta say to you." Carl gestures for me to continue. "Ever since that night I led the attack against the Saviors, I've treated you like shit. You don't deserve that. I said a lotta shit that I would give anything to take back. I'm really sorry, for everything that I've done to you. I don't deserve to have someone like you on my side."

"No, you don't," Carl agrees, not taking his eye off the road. "But I'm here anyway. You're my best friend, and even though we fought, that's not changing. You don't deserve me, but I'm with you."

I let out a soft chuckle, barely audible. "Did… did I ever tell you that, if I had the chance to go back and do it again, I would've taken that bullet for you without even a second of hesitation? Just so it wouldn't happen to you?"

"Which one?" Carl asks, glancing over at me.

"Both of them," I answer. "At the same time, if I had to. I'd take anything for you."

"Now that's love," Carl deadpans. "Uh, I, uh, I mean—"

"I know what you mean, Carl," I tell him, and I do. We're still family; that hasn't changed.

"Listen, what you told me that night before Sasha… Clary, no matter what we do, I'm in danger. We're all in danger. Hell, everything is dangerous. Anything could kill you. A walker, a fire, a determined raccoon. And with all the more you hunt, there's probably some Liam Neeson in Taken-esque raccoon out there that wants revenge."

"Carl."

"Right, sorry. Point is, whether we're right beside each other or I'm fifty miles away, I'm still in danger. Rick is my father, that's not changing. I still love you, that's not changing. So why not just say fuck it and stick together, you and me?"

I pause for a moment. "The other guy I slept with is dead, and I didn't give a shit about him. You don't give a shit about Enid—not romantically, anyway. So yeah, maybe you and me could start over?"

"Fuck that," Carl says, and my spirits instantly fall. "We're skipping straight to the 'I love you's."

I can't help but laugh, nodding. "But maybe we should wait a little while before we tell the others. Especially before Ezekiel knows anything." I glance over at Carl. "I want you to know, Benjamin was nothing to me but a pawn. I only slept with him 'cause I thought Ezekiel would listen to him and join us then. I was wrong. I've been wrong before. I said we'd be safe 'cause the only Saviors were the ones at the satellite outpost, but that's what it was—an outpost. And now here I am, leading them into the rebellion all the while knowing that some of them won't make it out. I told Glenn so many times that I'd never let anything happen to him, and then I was the one that caught him when he fell." My fingers brush over my cheek where it was once painted red. "I can still feel it. His blood."

"I can still see it, hear it," Carl adds. "I overheard him and Maggie one time, talking about names. They decided that, if it's a girl, her name's gonna be Clarissa Beth."

I let out a soft chuckle. "Not Beth Clarissa?"

"They said it flows better. It does."

"We'll call her Beth for short."

"Good. Last thing we need is two Clarys running around. Oh God, the horror."

"Hey!"

"I'm joking," Carl assures me, then reaches for the radio. "You ready to rock, Dix?"

I grin, telling him, "Hit it, maestro."

"She's so rock steady—bam-ba-lam
And she's always ready—bam-ba-lam
Whoa, Black Betty—bam-ba-lam
Whoa, Black Betty—bam-ba-lam"

"Hi."

At the single word, spoken by an unknown voice, Carl drops the gas can he was carrying; and we instantly go back to back, guns drawn.

"I'm okay," the voice rushes. "I mean…" The stranger pauses for a second, collecting his thoughts. Carl holds his gun with one hand, the other arm keeping me close to him in case this stranger is dangerous. "I've been shot at. Someone threw a microwave at me, so I'm just gonna say something my mom used to say and hope for the best here. 'Whatever you have of good, spend on the traveller.'"

Carl looks over his shoulder at me, and I gesture for him to go one way. He nods, and we split up, searching for the unknown stranger.

"My mom said that helping the traveller, a person without a home, that's everything," he continues. "I'm sure you've seen things. Been through things. You don't trust people. I get it. I get it. I don't either."

I keep Carl within sight, glancing over as he takes off his hat as he kneels to peer underneath a car. I let a small grin come to my lips—he's learning his way around this world, learning to search for threats the smart way.

"I've been through things, too," the stranger says. "My mom, she also said that may my mercy prevail over my wrath. It's not all my mom. That one, that's from the Quran. I probably shouldn't have said that. I don't even know you, but I… I haven't eaten in a few days. You might not even be real."

Carl scrambles to his feet, and I know he's found him. I rejoin him as we take off for where Carl saw the stranger. We dart around the back of a van, and Carl already has his gun on him, barking, "Hands up!"

He throws his hands in the air, and I quickly follow Carl's lead. The stranger rushes, "Listen, I'm gone. It's cool. I just wanted… even just some food."

I glance at Carl before looking back at the stranger. I start, "How many—"

Before I can even get the first question out, a gunshot rings out nearby. A second shot is fired, and the stranger takes off running away. I see Rick running forward, stopping where the stranger had been seconds before and firing a third shot into the air. Carl and I start forward, joining him as he lowers his gun.

"We were supposed to meet at the intersection," he says, turning to look at us. When he sees the way we're looking at him, incredulous that he just shot at a complete stranger that had meant no harm. "I shot over his head. I just wanted him gone."

As if that makes it all okay.

Carl starts, "He said that he—"

"I heard what he said," Rick interrupts. "Most of it. He could've been one of them."

Carl says, "Like a spy?"

"Dwight would've told us if Negan had a spy," I argue. "I trust him, and his word."

"He said he wouldn't fire if you aimed to the sky," Carl returns.

"D told me he didn't mean to shoot. He didn't realize I had aimed to the sky until it was too late. But that's not what we need to talk about. Look, Dwight knows everything that Negan knows, and he's told us. He doesn't have a problem selling out Negan."

"Then you know how dangerous spies can be!" Rick exclaims. He sighs, seeing that neither of us are backing down. "I shot over his head."

"Congratulations," I deadpan. "I'll call the Nobel Committee."

"Look, if he isn't one of them, I hope he makes it," Rick sighs.

Carl shakes his head, taking my hand and leading me away. "It's not gonna be enough, Dad."

"Enough what?"

Carl picks up his hat, putting it back on his head before pausing. "Hope."

I hear Rick sigh behind us, and I squeeze Carl's hand. "C'mon, Cowboy," I say. "Let's just get outta here."

Carl and I continue walking, the can of gas in Carl's hand. "Hey!" I hear Rick call behind us, running to catch up. "Hey! Hey! What does that mean?"

"What I said," Carl replies, not looking at his father as he joins us. "You hope the guy makes it, it's not enough. If you give a shit—"

"Carl," Rick scolds.

"Are you fucking shittin' me?" I question. "It's the end of the motherfucking world. Let your kid curse."

"Clary."

"If you care," Carl says, "you'd do something. You don't just… hope. It takes more than that. That's what I meant. There's gotta be something after the fight's over."

"Not for everyone," Rick growls, clearing referring to Negan.

"Okay, yeah, but what about you? What about all of us in Alexandria, the other communities? There's gotta be something, something more than hope. That's just how it's gotta be."

Rick tries to hide his scoff, and I question, "What, you don't think there should be something after?"

"Not for the Saviors, at least," Rick replies. "What's your plan, that we're just gonna be out there picking strawberries with Negan?"

"No," I retort. "It's war, Rick. It ain't gonna be Kumbaya, I know that. But there are people there in that building that deserve an after." Rick shakes his head. "What about the ones like Dwight, huh? What about the workers and the people enslaved like Daryl was?"

"If there were more like you say Dwight is, you don't think they would've come to us? I don't even know how you can trust Dwight! How the hell do you know that he won't turn on us in the middle of the battle?!"

I spin, stopping Rick before he can take another step. I may not come close to his height, but I make myself known as I hiss, "Dwight bent the knee and pledged his fidelity, to me. He is with me. He follows me. Don't doubt my men."

Rick blinks in surprise, and I back off, having made my point. I turn back around, taking Carl's hand again and continuing on. Rick doesn't follow this time, and I call over my shoulder, "Don't wait for us! Carl and I are gonna hit a few places, see what we can find."

Carl and I walk in silence back to the van, and he opens the side door, putting the gas can in. He suddenly chuckles, looking at me over his shoulder. "'Bent the knee.' Really?"

"What?" I question. "He did! He knelt to swear allegiance."

"No, that's not it," Carl laughs, turning to face me. "The way you phrased it. What is this, Game of Thrones?"

"Well, he is the Hound, physically speaking. Swore an oath, too."

"Can you swear something to me?" Carl asks, serious now. I give a nod. "Promise me that no matter what happens tomorrow, you won't die."

"That's not something I can control, Carl," I say.

"No, it is. When it comes to you, that's something you have control over. I'm tired of you nearly killing yourself doing stupid shit, trying to sacrifice yourself for everyone else. Just once... put yourself first."

If I don't choose my words carefully, I know this could turn into another argument. The worst part for me, though, is that I know that Carl's right. Instead of arguing, I order, "Get in the van."

"What?" Carl asks, surprised by the sudden change.

"I said, get in the van."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're pissing me off so now we're gonna have angry make up sex, that's why," I say, pushing him back inside. I climb in, closing the side door. I push Carl onto his back, climbing on top, as I lean down to kiss him. Carl winds his fingers into my hair, and when I pull back to take a breath, he whispers, "I love you."

I grin down at him as I pull his shirt off, then mine. I kiss him again, gentler this time, before replying, "I love you more."

~Carl~

I stand awkwardly by as my dad and Michonne kiss goodbye, meeting Clary's eyes from where she stands with her dads. She makes a face at me, a moment of a childish side I sometimes forgets she has shining through, despite what's about to happen. I have to hide my laughter behind my hand, and Dad steps away from Michonne.

He takes my hat off my head, wrapping me in a hug. He holds me tightly for a moment before pulling back and placing what was once his hat back upon my head. Dad promises, "This is the end of it."

"I know," I tell him. It might not end right away, but what happens today will cause the end of the Saviors. Dad steps away, and I hear Clary tell Aaron and Eric, "I'll be right back."

I open my arms, and Clary smiles softly as she goes in for the hug. I hold her tightly, Clary resting her chin on my shoulder. "This is it," Clary says. "This is the end of it all. The revolution begins and ends today."

"Kick it in the ass," I tell her. I close my eye, whispering, "Come home, babe."

"I love you, Carl," Clary whispers in reply.

"I love you, too." I squeeze her hand as she pulls back, looking into her eyes as I repeat, "Come home."

"I'll come home," Clary promises me. She starts to lean forward, then, as soon as she realizes it, she jerks back, dropping my hands and blushing. We haven't told the others that we're back together yet (though Eric's figured it out because he caught her sneaking out to come see me the other night, which means Aaron and Daryl also know). "I, uh, I gotta go. I got a revolution to lead."

"You know what? This could be the last time I ever see you. Fuck it." I take Clary's face in my hands, kissing her. I release her after a moment. "Good luck, babe. Kick some ass for me."

"Ten-four, Cowboy," Clary says with a mock salute and a grin, climbing in the backseat of Aaron and Eric's car. I step back, watching them leaving and watching Michonne. I tell her, "I know you wanted to go with him."

"And I know you wanted to go with her," Michonne returns. I open my mouth to argue, but Michonne cuts me off. "I can see it. From both of you. You love each other, but you did hurt her."

"I know."

"You did tell her to never come home, but I know you've made for it and everything else," Michonne continues, rambling absentmindedly. "You did have that quick little thing with Enid. I mean, I know you're definitely not with her anymore, but—"

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I watched Clary sneak out of your window last night while I was outside with a very fussy Judith. Clary was wearing your shirt. And she has a hickey on her collarbone."

I freeze, unable to argue. "I wanted to go." Michonne raises an eyebrow at my sudden and unsubtle topic change. "You wanted to go, too."

"Everything hurts," Michonne says, still healing from her fight with the Scavenger. "But I will help you defend this place."

I raise an eyebrow. "What, me?"

"Oh, yeah. This is your show." I scoff, shaking my head. "Okay. We'll see."

"About what?" I question.

Michonne only smirks.

~Clary~

One by one, my soldiers arrive. My right hand man stands at my side, a green band wrapped around his bicep, with a white one below it. Jesus wears green for the Hilltop, and white for Alexandria. "White for you," he corrected me when I first noticed. I nod hello to Dianne, the archer from the Kingdom, as she passes, bow on her shoulder and orange around her bicep.

Jesus accompanies me as I walk through our ranks, catching sight of Aaron holding Eric's hand as he prays and Enid and Jerry debating about something. As we get closer, I see that Jerry is offering Enid his arm guard to wear as a chestplate. "No thanks," she tries to tell him. "I'm going back with Maggie after."

"Dude, sternum," Jerry insists. She shakes her head again. "Duuuuude."

"If you won't take it, I will," I say, plucking it out of Jerry's hands. I hold it up to my chest, and Jesus snickers when he sees that it covers it. "Oh, shut up. I'm tiny, but I can and will kick your ass." I toss the armor to Enid. "Take it, E."

"What about you?" Jerry questions. "I got another one, you know."

"I'm good," I tell him. "An arm guard ain't gonna do me much good where I'm goin'."

Jerry takes his remaining arm guard off nonetheless, holding it out for me. I hesitate, and Jerry says, "C'mon, dude. I already took it off. Duuuude."

"Fine," I give in with a sigh. "Listen, though, next time I'm at the Kingdom? I'm getting actual armor."

"Yes, ma'am," Jerry acknowledges. I take his arm guard, putting it on as Jesus and I walk to meet the other leaders of the communities. Ezekiel glances down at me, chuckling softly. I tell him, "Jerry was very insistent. Alright, it was more to get him to stop saying 'dude.'"

Ezekiel laughs, the sound fading as Rick and Maggie reach us. Rick asking Maggie, "You sure you're up to this?"

"I got Hilltop to stand against the Saviors," she replies. "I need to be there. At least, for the first part. They say you can wage war through the second trimester." I chuckle, knowing that with Maggie's determination, she'd be trying to wage war through the third trimester, too. "I've been fighting since the farm. Can't stop now."

"God, that feels like a lifetime ago," I say. "So much time has come and gone."

Rick questions, "How about tomorrow?"

"You been thinking about what that looks like?" Maggie inquires.

"For the first time, I'm thinking past tomorrow," I say.

"I never thought I'd hear that," Maggie says with a small smile, then looks up at Rick. "And you? You thinking about tomorrow?"

"Yes, I have," Rick answers. "I don't know if I can wait for it."

"Just one more fight," Maggie assures him. "And I'm gonna be there. At least for the first part."

"I'm told the Hilltop lost their doctor," Ezekiel chimes in. "An obstetrician, no less. We have a doctor in the Kingdom. A woman of talent. Join us."

"We'll get ours back," Jesus tells him.

Ezekiel chuckles. "Yes, Jesus. Yes, you will. As sure as the day defeats the night, and on this day, we begin to reshape this world for your child and the children to come. So let's get started."

Ezekiel takes off, and I look at Jesus as I deadpan, "I ain't ever gonna get used to Henry V over here."

Jesus chuckles. He falls into step beside me as I follow Ezekiel, asking, "You ready?"

"Why not?" I return. "We're already dead, right?"

~Jesus~

The leaders of each of the communities stand on the flatbed of one of our armored trucks, each one with a color wrapped around their bicep, designating their community. The volunteers from each community, volunteers turned soldiers, circle the flatbed. Each of us knows what today will bring, but at the same time, we're not prepared. We've been trained and we know how to fight, but none of us have ever fought in a war. Not like this.

Clary steps forward from the leaders, proclaiming, "They say every one of our fighters are worth a dozen of Negan's. You think they're right?"

She gets a chorus of "hell yeah"s.

"We die today, my brothers and sisters. We die bleeding from a hundred wounds with arrows in our necks, knives in our guts, and bullets in our heads. But our war cries will echo through eternity! They will sing about our war until Alexandria's walls have fallen and the last walker's dead! Every man, woman, and child will know who we were and how long we stood! Alvaro and Jerry; Jesus and Daryl; Enid and Tara! Our warriors will cry out our names as they charge the Sanctuary and the outposts!"

"Hell yeah!" the crowd shouts.

"Mothers will name their children for us!"

I look back and forth between Aaron and Daryl, whispering, "Isn't this Theon's speech from Game of Thrones?"

"It's the only one she knows," Daryl replies.

"What? I've seen her make speeches up on the fly."

Aaron shrugs, offering, "She's not the best at… motivating people. She can threaten and scare people like nobody's business, but pep talks? Yikes."

"What is dead may never die!" Clary shouts.

Aaron, Daryl, and I, along with the rest of the soldiers, echo, "What is dead may never die!"

"We are the walking dead," Clary says, echoing her speech from the first battle. "And the Saviors, it might not have hit 'em yet. But they're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out."

Daryl smirks, calling, "Find out what?"

Clary and Rick share a look, and Rick answers, "They're fucking with the wrong people."

"The Saviors don't own us!" Clary declares. "They don't own this world. This is our world."

"When I first met him, Jesus said that my world was about to get a whole lot bigger," Rick says, nodding once to me. "Well, we found that world. We found each other. That bigger world is ours by right. And if we've come together for it, all of us, it's that much more true. It's ours by right! Any person who would live in peace and fairness, who would find common ground, it's their right, too. But those who use and take and kill to carve out the world and make it theirs alone, we end them!"

Rick's audience acknowledges him with shouts of agreement.

"We don't celebrate it. We don't have shame about it, either. There's only one person who has to die, and I will kill him myself. I will. I will. The others who prop him up, stand by his side, even those who just look the other way, so be it. Then, we keep making the world bigger. Together."

"Together," Ezekiel echoes. "Bound forever! To quote the Bard, 'For he today that sheds his blood with me—'" Ezekiel places a hand on Rick's shoulder. "'—shall be my brother.'" Ezekiel steps away from Rick, placing a hand on both Clary and Maggie's shoulders. "For she today, my sister."

Shive roars, sending up her own cheer for her king.

"We've practiced," Maggie says. "We've been through it over and over again. We all know the plan doesn't end this morning, that we may have to live in uncertainty for days, maybe more. That we have to keep our faith in each other. If we can hold onto that with everything we have, the future is ours. The world is ours."

"Today is the day the fight begins," Clary says. "And then, it's just one day more to the next world. To the new world, to the one that is ours. To the one that we make. To the one that our children, and our children's children, will inherit. Because we fought for them. We fight for each other!" She looks at Ezekiel. "For our brothers—" Clary looks to Maggie. "—and our sisters. We fight for our right to tomorrow!"

Rick declares, "If we start tomorrow right now, with everything we've beaten, everything we've endured, everything we've risen above, everything we've become! If we start tomorrow right now, no matter what comes next, we've won. We've already won!"

Clary jumps down off the flatbed, standing level with her soldiers. "This fight right here," Clary shouts, walking in a circle around the flatbed to look at everyone. "This fight right now! This is our fight to win! This is our chance to show the whole goddamn world what we're made of! Now is the time to seize the day! The Saviors don't know it, but the revolution is coming. We are coming. We are coming for them! We will show them exactly who the fuck we are! We will show them that they're fucking with the wrong people! And no one will dare think of fucking with us ever again!" Daryl and I kneel as she reaches us, hoisting her up above everyone on our shoulders. Clary shouts, "And the revolution starts right damn now!"