Hello! We are coming to a close in this story. :( I wanted to get you lovely readers something (I know I've been slacking. My mind has been a mush of craziness lately, so hard to get my thoughts out coherently). I plan on getting the remaining part(s) of this chapter out pre-finale! (AND AHHH! I'M SO STOKED FOR THE FINALE!)

69: For Whom The Bell Tolls

PART 1

The last few days of my life passed too quickly, but I think everyone feels that way, maybe even more so now that the world is in the state it's in. This sentiment isn't to be confused with regret or sorrow, because I do not regret anything that happened in those hours, nor do I feel sorry for the life I was allowed to live. I do, however, wish to live in those last few days forever. There was peace there. There was purpose. There was love. There was the entire world, and that's all I had ever wanted.

I guess I couldn't run it forever.

-o0o-

There were several painful days that occurred in fast succession; starting with the day I didn't kill the Governor. I wasn't sure why Rick had let me go with them on their 'trip for peace.' I wasn't even sure if I'd really wanted to go in the first place, but what I knew for sure is that he didn't stop me and I had to be there. Not just because the masochistic side of me wanted close proximity to the monster so I could feel that hatred, no, I don't think that was the reason at all. My intentions in the last days were completely pure. I wanted to go on the run because I wanted to be with the guy I loved. I didn't want us to be too far from each other. Plain and simple. If he was going, I was going. I think that might've been why Rick allowed it, I think he might've known.

Daryl came around the corner, without Rick at his side, "He's already in there."

I knew that. Of course I knew that. I could smell him when we got there, but I hadn't said anything. I hadn't said a whole lot in the last few days; I was done talking, talked out. Right now, in this abandoned town, my only goal was basic. All I had to do was not bust into that building and unload the contents of my gun into the one-eyed man. A flush of heat and rage passed through me regardless, and my finger twitched on the trigger of the assault rifle. I wanted him dead. I wanted his life over. Hershel's voice provided a distraction, "I don't see any cars."

"It don't feel right," Daryl's eyes were scanning the area intently as he spoke to Hershel, and I took my place only feet from him as had become custom, "Keep it running." Seconds passed and I smelled the approaching car before we all heard it, "Heads up!" Hershel and I took a more defensive position as the occupants of the white car piled out. Two other men stepped out along with Andrea, but Daryl only addressed her, "What the hell? Why's your boy already in there?"

Her face filled with confusion and annoyance, "He's here?"

"Yup."

She didn't say another word, only sighing as she hurried off into the abandoned building that housed the 'mediation.'

Quiet crept over the rest of us, but there was no comfort. The hostility was evident. We were all just people waiting on the orders, waiting for the go ahead to kill the others. I guess it was to be expected. The worst part was the faint scratching sound of the man with glasses writing in a little notebook. It got under my skin, and I was irritable enough with my tormentor only yards away. I could feel the twitching return to my finger. Something about it, the sound of it, something about him confused me. He had no gun, at least not one that was in plain sight, and he just wrote. It seemed ridiculous.

"Maybe I should go inside," Hershel's deep tone broke the silence.

He was stopped by the man with the glasses, "The Governor thought it best if he and Rick spoke privately." I rolled my eyes quickly before adjusting my weight forward only slightly.

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl spoke before I could even open my mouth.

He straightened up, "Milton Mamet."

"Great, he brought his butler." I couldn't stifle my laugh in time to go unnoticed. Daryl smiled slightly while the Governor's men narrowed their eyes, but a part of me didn't care. Not about them. Why would I? These were just people from Woodbury; what they think doesn't matter. They'd all be dead soon anyway.

Milton piped up, clearly aggravated by Daryl's words and my laughter, "I'm his advisor."

"What kind of advice?"

"Planning, and biters, uhhh… yeah, I'm sorry. I don't feel like I need to explain myself to the henchmen." My finger twitched again, and this time my left eye joined it. Henchmen? Is this guy serious?

I couldn't hold my tongue anymore, "Excuse me?"

I stepped towards the wimpy looking man, but Daryl was already there, "You better watch your mouth, sunshine."

The other man spoke, "Look, if you and I are going to be out here pointing guns at each other all day, do me a favor and shut your mouth." Now that I could agree with.

"We don't need this. If all goes south in there, we'll be at each others' throats soon enough." Hershel was right, just like always. That's just who he is. I think the others recognized that, because the silence was back after that. I stood closer to Daryl than I had planned to, breaking the foot mark; it was all I could do to prevent me from doing the one thing I really wanted to do. Standing there, the occasional sound of scribbles, the sound of the breeze through the trees and the drone of deep voices from inside, the occasional moments where my eyes wandered over to the guy I loved, the one person who I was done leaving, it made it manageable. It made me stronger. I took a deep breath; I could get through this.

It wasn't long before Andrea came out of the building and plopped herself down on a bail of hay nearby. She seemed defeated, and I could feel the itch of my finger again. Things weren't going well in there. I knew it, Hershel knew it, and with the way Daryl was pacing back and forth it wasn't hard to guess that he knew it too.

Maybe I should just take care of this now? Since it's not going well anyways? Maybe I should kill these two guys, kill Phillip, and then we can go back to the prison in time for a nice leisurely nap before dinner? I'd have to take care of these two with something quiet; a gunshot would tip Phillip off. Might put Rick in danger. Maybe I could tell Daryl about the plan discreetly, and he can help? We could end this in less than a minute.

As if on cue Milton stepped forward to speak, "There's no reason not to use this time we have together to explore the issues ourselves."

The other man turned to him, "Boss said to sit tight and shut up." I wanted to agree with the other guy. I didn't want to talk to these people; they were just monsters.

Daryl cut in, "Don't you meant 'The Governor?'"

Milton continued, ignoring everyone, "It's a good thing they're sitting down, especially after what happened. They're going to work it out, nobody wants another battle."

I couldn't keep myself from scoffing. Was this guy serious? Did he really think they'd fix this in one day, with a few words? Things like this can't be fixed.

Daryl practically spoke for me, "I wouldn't exactly call it a battle."

"I would call it a battle, and I did," he held up the notebook he'd been writing in, "I recorded it."

Daryl and I both looked to Milton at the same time, speaking in unison, "For what?"

"Somebody's got to keep a record of what we've gone through, it'll be a part of our history."

"That makes sense." Hershel seemed to approve of Milton's notebook, and for whatever reason this brought a nerdy jitter to four-eyes. Maybe it was a good idea to keep a record of things. But there was one small problem to it; any history this guy would record would be skewed. It would be second-hand tales from Phillip. It would be inaccurate. It would paint us as villains and that bastard as some sort of hero.

He eagerly made his way towards Hershel, "I've got dozens of interviews…"

Just as he got over to him we heard the snarls and groans from a few deadies nearby. I was glad that they finally made some noise, I was tired of having to smell them. I was tired of having to wait around for the others to realize they were there. Within seconds the other man, Andrea, Daryl and I followed the sounds, making our way around the building to a small herd of seven walkers.

Daryl lowered his crossbow and turned to the other man, "After you."

"No," the guy motioned towards the zombies that were approaching, "You first."

As I shook my head and took a step forward, knife drawn; I saw Andrea roll her eyes and do the same exact thing. We each took out a walker before the men started to go after the rest of them. Once I saw that they were going to handle the rest I started to make my way back around the building with Andrea at my side.

She had a small smile on her face, and a faint lightness in her voice, "Guys never change, I guess."

"Good guess," I laughed, allowing a few quiet paces before trying to talk to her again, "You were a lawyer, right?"

She nodded, eyes distant, "It feels like a long time ago."

"Shouldn't you be in there?" I nodded to the building, "Helping them sort this out?"

"That was the plan," the irritation in her voice was more than obvious, and I couldn't help but feel for her. She must've been kicked out. Too many cooks in the kitchen. Here she was, trying to make peace, and she was kicked out.

I threw her a bone, "I was pre-med." I figured why not? She was a part of my group once, and from what I'd heard about her she wasn't all bad. Maybe she had similar goals?

She glanced over to me, "So you're the medic now with Hershel?"

"Yeah," a smile spread across my lips, "But I mainly just patch myself up. I seem to be extra accident prone these days." I chuckled and she joined me for a few beats. Then my brain's filter malfunctioned, "He won't make any deals."

"Rick will do what's best."

I shook my head, "I'm not talking about Rick." She stopped just before we were about to round the corner, and I stopped with her, staring directly into her eyes, "Phillip… even if he makes a deal it will be a lie."

Her brows furrowed, "You don't know that."

I wasn't going to try to argue with her, and a part of me didn't think it would even be necessary. She was a lawyer. There were brains in there. She could probably read people better than I could. She probably had some understanding of basic morality. We stood there for almost a minute, looking at each other, not speaking. Then I broke the pause, "You'll do the right thing."

Her eyes darted away, "How can you be sure? You don't even know me."

I shrugged before starting to walk again, "I asked about you." Once we reached the bail of hay she'd been sitting on earlier I continued, taking a seat just beside her, "You lost your sister near the start of all this, Amy, I think that's what they said her name is."

Her head lowered just barely, "Please, don't talk about that."

"It's just," I tilted my head as I looked to her, "I lost my brother, too. My parents." Her eyes softened, so I kept talking, "They make me better, even now, make me do the right thing. She'll help you do the right thing, too."

The corner of her mouth twitched up a few times. I patted her knee and stood up, popping my neck to either side. I nodded to Hershel as I walked over to Milton, keeping with the social streak I was riding.

He was scribbling in the notebook when I sashayed up to him as casually as I could manage, "So, you advise him?"

"Yes," he didn't look up from his writing as I sat down beside him.

Then I said something I hadn't expected to say. I expected to just sit with him and maybe try to get some intel on Woodbury's arms, or maybe just bullshit for a while, but thats not what my mouth decided to do. My voice was low, but had a strange steadiness I was surprised I could manage, "Were you the one who told him to rape me?"

He looked up from his writing, but not into my eyes. All the color had drained from his face, "Excuse—"

I interrupted him, peering over into the pages, "Did you put that in that little book of yours?"

He closed his notes and looked to the ground in front of my feet, "I wasn't aware that he did that."

"He assaulted a friend of mine as well, another woman in our group who had been captured that day." I faced him again after a long break in conversation, relaxing my face into the friendliest visage I could force, "Want an interview from the other side?"

He looked directly at me this time, "Pardon?"

"You said you conducted interviews," I nodded to the notebook. "I just thought…" I looked towards the building briefly, "Before all of this history was one-sided. Written by the victors. It felt like we were never getting the whole story in the books. Maybe this is our chance to fix that?"

He cracked the notebook open and pulled up his pen to the page, "I suppose I can write a few things."

"I was just a college kid before all of this," I let my lips curve up slightly as I thought back, "Loved my family, had a few friends, wanted to get into med-school and become a doctor." I shifted in my seat, bringing the leg with the large scar from the first few months of the outbreak to his view, "I've learned a lot about medicine since then, I've gotten to help people, help myself."

"You did that…" There was genuine curiosity in his voice, and it made me glad I decided to talk to him. It made me think that Andrea wasn't the only person who we might be able to get onto our side.

I nodded, "I still want to help people, I always will. It was my life's ambition before this; that's why I joined up with Rick and his group. To help people who deserved it. That's one of the reasons at least." I shifted back and hunched forward, putting most of my weight onto my hands, "I was mainly just lonely, though."

He jotted a few things down before looking back up at me, "Were you alone long?"

"Yeah," I nodded again, "But that's all kind of a jumble now, though. It was easy to get used to being with people again, easy to forget how much being alone sucks." I stared at the building again. Inside who knows what was happening: war planning, treaty producing, maybe they were just shooting the shit. I wanted to be in there. I wanted my thumbs up to their knuckles in Phillip's skull. I wanted this over. I shook the thought away and I turned my attention back to Milton. He seemed like a smart enough man. He didn't seem too evil. He didn't seem very different from anyone in our group. Maybe he could be reasoned with? "We're just trying to stay alive, just like you. We don't torture people, we only kill when we have to, and the majority of our group hasn't had to yet."

He scribbled more words down as he spoke, "So you feel like you had to at the battle?"

"I was sure I was going to die there," I looked him directly in the eye and he stopped writing, "We were taken hostage. We were hurt, mutilated, beated. Your people would have killed us had we not been rescued. Force was necessary for our survival." From the corner of my eye I could see Daryl and the other man round the corner so I stood up, "I better go."

Once I reached Daryl I could see he looked worried as he looked from Milton, now ferociously scribing, back to me, "What'd he say?"

I shrugged, "I did most of the talking. Hopefully it will help." I nodded to the other man, "Him?" He shrugged too and we both took our spots leaning against the car. He handed me a cigarette from a pack he must've found and I graciously accepted. I didn't want to smell anyone right now. As I took a drag I felt the stresses subside.

The last half hour of our excursion went excruciatingly slow. Hershel was speaking to Andrea, and Milton was busy writing in his book. The rest of us just stood beside our respective cars. There was no angry trading of mean looks, it was just boring, for all of us. My eyes even began to grow heavy after a while, and out of habit I lazily leaned against Daryl's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind; he didn't seem to mind anything I did anymore. Maybe it was the looming war, but I wasn't complaining. We'd gotten into a groove. It was the nicest any relationship had been for me. Even now, with evil so close by, I was happy.

Those final thirty minutes of quiet were peaceful, even with the 'enemy' only feet away.

Once it was over Phillip emerged, followed by Rick. Neither said anything, nor did anyone else. We all just got into our vehicles and went our separate ways. Had Daryl not been beside me, had I not gotten on the back of his bike and held tightly to him as we made our way down the road, I would have killed that one-eyed asshole. I wouldn't have thought twice about it. But he was there for me. I had someone I wanted more time with. I didn't need revenge.

Not yet.

Boom! Part 1 of Chapter 69! That's what's up! Review and let me know what you think!

Question time: First, Andrea and Milton? Friends or foes to Annie/the group? How much do we all want some 'Daryl time,' as I plan to refer to it (relations)? Will Annie be able to prevent Merle's death or will she be a shoulder to cry on for her rugged/sexy/fantastic/horrible crying faced beau? Annie's death is hanging in the near future! How do you think our heroine will kick the bucket? Will she get to kill that pesky Governor before her curtains close? (How many more cliches will I be able to cram into this author's note?) Will Death (the character) make a reappearance soon? How stoked are we all for the finale next Sunday?

MORE REVIEWS MEAN MORE KICKASS CHAPTERS IN THE NEAR FUTURE! :)