Chapter 13: Bad Moon Rising

~Jesus~

I don't open my eyes as a body drops into my bed beside me, knowing that it's Clary as soon as she throws an arm across my chest and presses her face into my shoulder. I only open them when she scoots closer, hair tickling my neck. I turn my head just enough to look down at her, and she lifts her head slightly, questioning, "Did I wake you?"

"I wasn't sleeping," I tell her, wrapping an arm around her and stealing a glance at the clock. "What're you doing up at two in the morning?"

"I never went to bed," she replies.

"Let me guess. You needed my cuddles," I tease.

"How ever did you know?" Clary retorts. She settles back into me, closing her eyes. "Why aren't you sleeping at two in the morning?"

"I'm a light sleeper," I answer. "And I'm usually up pretty late."

"You need sleep, Paul."

"Says the one that runs on cat naps." Clary glares up at me. "Look, poppet, I get it. I get why you don't sleep. I'm just messing with you." Clary lays her head back on my shoulder, but her eyes dart to the door every few seconds. "Hey, remember what I told you when you came back to—"

I cut myself off before I say "to me," not wanting to sound selfish. There were others that she came back for. Others that she came back to. I quickly recover, "To the Hilltop?"

"You told me you wouldn't let the Saviors get to us."

"You're still scared of that happening, aren't you?"

Clary pauses for a moment. "They've gotten in before. While everyone was sleeping."

"I won't let it," I promise her. "You're safe here, Clary."

"In the middle of a goddamn war zone," Clary mutters as she closes her eyes. Within ten minutes, she's fallen asleep. I hold her closer when she shivers, tucking the blanket around her. She looks so much younger, as if years of stress and worry were never forced upon her. She looks happy, almost; as if she could forget about the horrors she's seen and the people she lost.

"I'm sorry for everything that you've lost," I murmur into her hair, pressing my nose against her head. "You don't deserve any of what you've been through."

She lost her home and her lover all in one night, barely two days after she lost her father and the other disappeared.

I brush my fingers past the parallel scars at her temple, then over the one on her cheek. She shifts, and I can see the scar from Dwight's bullet on her shoulder. "How many times have you been shot?" I question.

I didn't expect an answer, and I don't get one. A few minutes later, a knock sounds on my door. I lift my head, wondering who it could be as Clary is the only one I can think of that would be coming to me in the middle of the night. I start to get up, and Clary stirs. She blinks, barely awake, and she looks up at me. "Paul?" she questions, voice thick with sleep. "What's goin' on?"

"Nothing," I answer. "Just go back to sleep. I'll be back in a few."

Clary doesn't argue, passing out as soon as her head is back on the pillow. I run a hand through my hair as I approach the door, opening it. "Daryl," I say, slightly surprised.

"Hey," he replies, his voice quiet.

"Well, Dixon, you certainly didn't strike me as the kind of guy to show up in the middle of the night," I tease, quickly recovering from my initial shock. "Unfortunately for you, I already have company."

"My sister's here?" Daryl guesses. "I've been looking everywhere for her."

"Yeah, yeah, she's here," I assure him, sensing his worry. I step aside, allowing the older Dixon in.

"I haven't seen her sleeping like that in a while," Daryl says softly. "She did better, before the war when she was living with her dads. But since Sasha died… she's barely grabbed a wink. Last she slept, as far as I know, was two nights before the Sanctuary. She came and slept next to me."

"As long as I've known her, she's always slept next to someone," I note.

"It makes her feel safe, I think. Reassures her that she's not alone." He steps over to Clary, brushing her hair back and leaning down to kiss her forehead. Clary turns slightly, blinking as she looks up at Daryl. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Daryl," Clary says. "What're you doing here?"

"Came looking for you," he answers. "Go back to sleep. I'll be right here." Daryl glances at me over his shoulder. "If that's alright with you."

"Of course," I answer. "I'll take the couch."

"No, Paul, get over here," Clary says. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

I don't argue, laying on one side of Clary while Daryl sits on the other. Clary curls up against me, asleep again within a minute. Daryl flops back on the bed, throwing his arm around Clary. "You know, your sister, she's something else," I say, keeping my eyes closed.

"That she is," Daryl agrees. "But this war, I don't know how much longer she can do this."

"I just hope last night was it. It'll be over now."

Daryl sighs softly. "Yeah, you and me both."

I jerk awake to a scream from somewhere within the Hilltop, a second scream waking the Dixons a second later. Daryl grabs his knife, immediately taking a protective position over Clary. "What the hell was that?" Daryl questions.

More screams erupt, and Clary exclaims, "It's coming from Barrington! We have to go!"

We all scramble to climb out of bed, grabbing our weapons and rushing out the door to go help.

~Daryl~

"The hell do you think it is?" Clary asks as we rush out of Jesus's trailer.

"You remember Cell Block D?" I question. I look behind me to find that Clary's frozen in place. I turn back, grabbing her arm. "Clars, c'mon! We gotta stick together, 'specially if there's walkers!"

"If there's walkers, then I gotta go!" Clary returns, pulling her arm free and taking off in the other direction.

I look over at Jesus for help, and he calls, "Where're you going?"

"The Saviors!" she shouts over her shoulder. "They either did this, or they're in danger, too!"

"Clary, what the hell?" I call. "Jesus!"

"She can keep the Saviors in check, I know it," Jesus says. "We don't have time, Daryl. We gotta go!"

So we leave Clary as she runs for the pen as we run for the others up in Barrington. We arrive to find the place in chaos, just as Cell Block D was after the flu broke out back at the prison. People scream, trying to get away from the walkers. The walkers lunge out at anything moving, grabbing onto anything they can reach.

I see a woman I recognize from the Kingdom holding off a walker, and I run to her aid. I grab it, pulling it back as I drive my knife into the base of its skull. We evacuate who we can, clearing a path for them to run out the front. I see Jesus kick a walker back, holding it against the wall with his outstretched foot. I start over to help him, but Michonne beats me to the punch, driving her sword through the walker's head.

There's another scream from within the foyer, and I turn to see Rick and Siddiq kneeling over someone, Rick with a bloody hatchet now. It doesn't take me long to figure out what's going on now that the fight is winding down. I turn as a walker emerges from a room near me, and I drive my knife into its forehead before it can grab for me. It drops to the ground, and I find myself recognizing a lot of the faces that I drove my knife into.

"The hell happened?" I question, turning to Rick as Morgan arrives. He drives his bo staff into the head of someone that's already died and turned.

"I don't know," Rick replies. "Maybe walkers got in."

"Maybe during the fight," Morgan offers.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "These are all our own people."

~Henry~

Gregory jerks awake when I prod his shoulder with the machine gun I stole when no one was looking. I shush him as he turns to face me, lowering my finger from my lips as I shift the machine gun to hold it with both hands. I question, "You're Gregory, right?"

"Thank God, yes," he says. He uses the fence to pull himself to his feet, and I take half a step back. Gregory gesture towards the lock. "Let me out."

I don't move. I'm not here to let Gregory out, I'm here to avenge my brother."Do you know which one killed my brother?"

"I don't know who your brother is. I don't know any of these people." Gregory glances over his shoulder to make sure none of the Saviors are awake and listening as he drops his voice to a whisper. "I'm not one of them." Gregory looks at the weapon in my hands before up at me. "That's a very dangerous weapon you got there, kiddo. Uh, I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want anyone to get hurt. Why don't you give it to me, and we can talk, huh?"

He must think I'm really stupid to fall for that.

"I'm sorry about your brother," Gregory tries, switching his approach. "But killing them isn't gonna bring him back."

"No," I agree. "But it'll make me feel better. It already did once." I see one of the Saviors getting to his feet, awake. Alden, I think I remember his name being. Jerry and Kal ran out to help him when he and Clary got into trouble earlier. I know he's not like the rest of the Saviors. "And why would you be in here if you're not with them? I'm not dumb. One of you knows who killed Ben, and if I have to, I'm gonna start shooting people until someone tells me."

"Hey, kid," Alden says, stepping towards the fence. "I get it. My big brother died, too. Killing a bunch of guys who mighta had something to do with it sounds pretty damn good in theory. But, uh, it's not gonna make you feel any better. Not for long. Believe me, I know. I speak from personal experience."

One of the Saviors on the ground questions, "What's up, Al?"

"Nothin', go back to sleep," he replies. We all turn at the screaming that erupts from within Barrington House, the Saviors that had previously been asleep awake now. The one with the long hair, the same one that spoke just before, darts to his feet, standing beside his blonde companion.

The Savior with the long hair steps forward, a smile on his face. "Music to my ears."

"Was it you?" I question, aiming my gun at him.

He spares me a glance. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, kid."

The asshole with the long hair goes back to watching Barrington. I can see some survivors running outside, and two more sprint up from the trailers, charging inside to fight. I turn the key in the lock on the pen, swinging open the gate as I step inside. The Saviors back up as I aim my machine gun at them, Alden raising his hands in surrender immediately.

"I want the guy who killed my brother," I demand. "Somebody better tell me now."

"Look, I know you're angry," Alden says. "Okay? I know. I was, too. But words, they're a lot easier to live with than actions, alright?"

I ignore him. "Be a man, and step forward so I don't have to kill your friends." No one moves. "I'm gonna count to ten and start shooting. One… two… three… four… fi—"

One of the Saviors lets out a shout of pain as a walker from inside the pen tears into his shoulder. Immediately, all hell breaks loose.

The Saviors scatter, and I can't get a decent shot at any of them. I open fire at the walker in the pen with us, as the Saviors behind Alden dart off to the side. The next thing I know, I'm knocked on my back. I wrestle for control of the gun with the Savior with the long hair, but he manages to grab it before I do.

He backs away towards the gate, calling, "Gate's open, boys! Let's go!"

The Saviors follow him out, and he leads the way towards the Hilltop's gate. Gregory pauses at the gate of the pen before following, running to freedom. I remain on the ground, ducking down as the Saviors rush past in a stampede. I look up as Alden comes over, offering me his hand. He says, "C'mon, kid! We gotta get out of here."

Alden pulls me to my feet, pulling me out of the pen with him. He swings the gate shut on the walkers and the dying Saviors inside the pen, but a walker reaches it before Alden can put the lock on it. The walker pushes on the gate, knocking Alden back. "C'mon!" I exclaim.

Alden scrambles to his feet, turning and running after me as we take off, neither of us having weapons to take on a walker. "Run, kid!" Alden barks, pushing me ahead of him. "Get to safety!"

"Where are you going?" I ask, but I know that I'm not retreating from the fight. The Saviors got out, and I have to go after them. I have to finish what I started tonight.

"I gotta find Clary. She can help us both."

~Daryl~

We all turn as there's more screaming in a room upstairs. We rush up, only to find that Carol has already taken out the walker. I put my hand on her arm, turning her to face me as I search her for bites, questioning, "You alright?"

"Yeah," she replies, looking down at the body on the floor. It's Tobin, I realize a moment later. "Just… he wasn't bit, but he turned."

"Negan's bat," Rick says after a moment, and I shudder at the thought of that bitch wrapped in barbed wire. "When I was out there with him, it was covered in walker blood. I just thought he'd crossed some. But maybe…"

"They have us working for them again," Maggie says. The thought crosses all of our minds, but she's the first to say it. "Killin' our own."

"It's the fever," Bruce, a former resident of Alexandria, says from where he lays on the bed, a bandage wrapped around his injured arm. "That's what it is. It makes sense now." He looks down at his arm, his voice breaking as he looks back at us. "One of you, you're gonna have to do it. I can't. You gotta do it for me. Please. Please."

Rick leads the way into Gregory's old bedroom, which Maggie has since taken over. He raises his hand as Rosita and Enid aim their guns at him, saying, "Hey, it's me."

They lower theirs guns once they realize that Rick's living and breathing, not one of the dead. Rosita questions, "All good out there?"

"House is clear," Rick answers. "Clary's checking the rest of Hilltop."

I follow Rick inside, closing the door behind me. Tara sits on the bed, cradling her injured arm to her chest. "How'd this happen?" Tara questions.

Neither Rick nor I want to be the first to say it. I step forward, resting the back of my hand against Tara's forehand. She swats at my hand, saying, "Daryl!"

I drop my hand from her forehead. She's a little warm—it is a hot night and she's wearing a long-sleeved shirt—but she doesn't feel like she has a fever. Not yet, at least. I take a step back, telling them, "The Saviors, they, um, did something with their weapons. Everyone they cut up or got shot… they all got sick. Some of 'em turned."

"What?" Enid questions in a whisper. "No."

Tara's quiet for a long minute before she finally nods and says, "Okay."

"When we were out there, and you said you were done waiting, I coulda killed him," I tell her. "I shoulda."

"No. He wanted to be here with us. And no matter what he did or how hard he tried, I wanted him dead. No matter what Clary said or how much faith she put in him, I wanted him dead. I just couldn't let it be anything else."

"Tara…"

"Karma's a bitch, right?"

~Clary~

Just don't get bit, don't get bit. Don't get bit. Don't get bit.

It's the only thought that's running through my mind. I don't know if I'm telling myself not to get bit, or praying that Daryl doesn't wind up with a wound sending him to an early grave. As I run for the Saviors, I grab the bottom of my jacket, zipping it up. If there's one thing that I know, it's that the leather it's made of is too thick for a walker's mouth.

I make it down to the Saviors' pen, only to find that it's completely empty. I run to the lock, freezing the second that I see it. It wasn't busted open; someone unlocked it and let the Saviors out. On purpose.

Oh, fuck.

I take off back towards Barrington, as that's where we've been keeping the weaponry. If the Saviors got out, that'd be the first place they'd go, if not running right out of the gate. Gregory was in the pen with them, so there's no doubt that the sniveling coward has already told them everything.

Over by the workers' stalls, I catch sight of someone fighting off a walker. I change directions, running towards them. I don't even know if they're friendly or not, but I run towards them anyway. I act on instinct alone, killing the walker and neutralizing the threat. It takes me a moment to recognize the face of the person I saved, half obscured in the darkness. I say, "Siddiq."

"Look out!" Siddiq cries.

I turn, only to get knocked on my back as a walker attacks me. I throw my arms up, trying to fight it off. As the walker clamps its mouth around my forearm, Siddiq shouts, "No!"

Before he can act, someone else beats him to the punch. As he arrives, he tackles the walker off me, picking up my dropped knife as he does so. He rolls with the walker, straddling it and holding it down with his knees and one hand. With the other, he drives my blade into the walker's head with a grunt. He rolls off of it, laying on his back beside it, panting. I push myself up onto my elbow, looking at my savior in the darkness. A moment later, I realize that my savior is in fact a Savior—a former one, at least. Breathless from running and fighting, I look to Alden, panting, "Thanks."

Alden mirrors me, propping himself up on his elbow. He replies, "I like to think you'd do the same for me."

I flop back onto my back, trying to catch my breath as I stare up at the stars. Siddiq scrambles to his feet, rushing, "No, no, no, no!" Siddiq drops to his knees beside me, grabbing my arm and pushing the sleeve back. "Oh, please, not you, too. Please, not—"

Siddiq cuts himself off, his mouth hanging open in shock. A moment later, still shocked, he says, "You weren't bitten."

"Leather's too thick," I tell him, pushing myself up into a sitting position. "Not my first close call."

"Clary, your arm," Alden says as he pushes himself to his feet. "Was that the one that was burnt?"

"No, that was my left one," I answer. I won't ever admit it out loud, but I find his concern touching. He's a former Savior that I've threatened to kill, but he's still worried. Alden appears over us, offering his hand. He pulls Siddiq to his feet first, then the two pull me to mine, my knife still in Alden's other hand. Of course, the moment he's handing my knife back to me is the moment the others arrive, Maggie barking, "Hands up! Now!"

Alden immediately complies, and I push him behind me when I see the guns aimed at him. "Hey, hey, hey!" I shout. "Guns down now! You don't touch him!"

At the same time, Alden rushes, "Hey! I'm trying to help! A–a–a–a kid came and opened up the pen! We had people turn! A bunch of 'em ran, but a bunch of 'em are trying to close that gate!"

"Maggie, look," Jesus says, pointing to the gate.

I don't even have to look at the gate to know that Alden's telling the truth. I say, "I believe him."

"Clary?" Jesus asks.

"I believe him," I repeat, louder this time. "Alden's only tried to help. And he just saved my life, which warrants a little trust."

"Dianne," Maggie orders.

"We're on it," Dianne says. "C'mon."

She takes off for the gate with Kal and Eduardo, and Maggie steps towards us, gun still raised. "Maggie, hey, hey," I rush, backing up towards Alden to cover him. "Mags!"

Maggie ignores me, instead firing at a walker growling up at the watchpost. Maggie lowers her guns as she turns around to look at Siddiq, questioning, "What the hell are you doing out here?"

"I went to check on the prisoners, but the pen was empty," Siddiq explains. "Clary saved my ass and then he saved hers."

Maggie turns to where Alden and I stand. Alden still has one hand raised in the air, the other he placed on my back to keep from backing into him. She demands, "Where are the others?"

"They didn't say where they were going," Alden answers. "They just ran."

"And you didn't?"

"You saw what we mean to Negan and Simon," Alden replies, lowering his hands. "Which might be a dumb thing to say. It doesn't make us worth much to your people, either, but… those of us that stayed, stayed." I take another step back, closer to him, extending my arm to keep him behind me and making the choice of who I'm willing to protect clear. "We had plenty of chances to run."

"Maggie, whether or not you believe him, I do," I say, then look over my shoulder at him. "Alden, you'd pledge your fidelity, your loyalty, right?"

"That I would, ma'am."

"Well, there you have it." I look back at Maggie. "Alden's one of my guys now. Nobody touches him. Nobody." I turn around to face Alden, pressing my knife back into his hand. "Stick with me, pretty boy, and we might make it through this."

Alden pushes the knife back to me. "I appreciate this, I really do. But I can't take it. If the rest of your people don't trust me enough to be armed, then I'll wait until they do. I don't want to make 'em even more uncomfortable with a former Savior in their midst."

"It might not seem like much to you, but I know how it feels to be a sheep in wolf's clothing amidst the other sheep. I understand, Alden. You may be one of us, one of my guys, but they still see a Savior. I get it."

I take the knife back, sheathing it. Alden questions, "So... what happens next?"

"We're in for nasty weather," I say. "There's a storm coming, and the Saviors are smacked right in the middle of it."