Alright guys. PLEASE don't kill me for being so late with this. Part of the reason it's so late is because I literally wrote TWENTY PAGES for this chapter, but in the end I just wasn't happy with it. So I axed ALL of it, and started completely new, and I'm much happier with this version. It's kinda different from my usual writing style, and I'll probably only use it for this chapter, because I wanted this one to encompass so many different perspectives, and this was kind of the only way to do it without going in too deep and writing yet another twenty pages. So I really hope you guys enjoy, and as always, tell me what you think with your lovely reviews!
Everyone is removed from what's happened. They're all so tired, split open like an ax taken to a log of wood, all their softness and pain bled out onto the floor. They all have different view points that they see when they finally sink into unconsciousness for the night. The night comes back to them in different ways and they all know it's not something they will ever forget. When all their eyes open and they find each other slowly, reaffirming their bond, but between all of them passes their own version of what happened during the night. All the memories play, all the feelings roil through them again, and later when they have a minute to breathe maybe they'll break down. But for now it all just hums between them like static on the radio, messages passing through the waves like a distorted television picture.
He'd never thought he'd see her again. The last time he had seen her was the night before the world collapsed. They'd been out drinking in a local bar that was a favorite amongst college kids, and gate crashers like her who didn't have the money for his fancy school and didn't like to let them think that they could keep her out of their chic little hang out.
"You believe what they say? People going nuts, running out and trying to bite anything that moves?"
She took down her shot of vodka, the liquor so cold it burned and punching every inch of her throat, having refused to pay top shelf prices, or let any lecherous man with an eye for her shell out the cash either. The tattoo of an ivy vine snaked from her right hand, winding whimsically all the way up her arm to her shoulder, the leather vest and tank top she wore hiding its twisting ending on her shoulder blade. Jade green eyes watched him closely as she signaled the bar tender for another round while drunken college kids howled at whatever sporting event was on TV. He hadn't been paying attention then. He'd been watching her, waiting for what she'd say. She'd always had a good judge of things like that. He'd been book smart all his life, a practical walking encyclopedia of useless random knowledge, and lately his medical studies, which were crowding out room for anything else. She wasn't like that; she was smart as a whip when it came to the practicalities of every day life. She'd seen the roughest parts of some of the most dangerous places and she was still standing no worse for wear. Her voice was tempered with her accent and roughened by the alcohol when she answered him.
"I believe people are gonna start to panic if something happens. And this is a bad place to be in a pandemonium."
He took the last swig of his beer and set the glass down on the bar. "My parents have a cabin out in the mountains. They always said that if shit was going to hit the fan that I should go there. It's stocked up with all kinds of stuff."
She narrowed her eyes at him and clipped him hard on the side of the head. "Moron! Don't go blasting that all over the place!"
He flinched a bit from her. "Jesus, Ivy, it's not like anybody's listening!" He wished he wouldn't have sounded like he was whining. If there was one thing Ivy Sokolv did not take kindly to, it was moaning.
Her eyes were still narrowed as the bartender handed her another shot. She threw it back easily before sending the shot glass back across the bar and all but glared at him, and hell if it wasn't an intimidating stare. "You'd be surprised, Benjy."
"Well what do you wanna do then?" he asked.
She was digging into the pocket of her slim black pants for a wad of damp, crumpled bills. She tossed it down onto the bar and slid off her stool. He hurried to catch up with her, flexing his credit card to pay his tab before following her to the door and out into the humid air. New York in summer, contrary to the Confederate belief, did not benefit from its northern location. It got just as hot and almost as humid depending on the day, and today was certainly one of those days. People were everywhere, scurrying about their lives, traffic crawling past on the streets, other hurrying figures disappearing into the metro tunnels, eager to get home for the night after a long day on the job. Despite the apparent normalcy of the scene around him, Benjamin couldn't shake that something was off. The air felt tense, or maybe that was just the space between him and Ivy.
"If shit hits the fan, we're dead in the water here." Her voice was deep with something less like anxiety and more like foreboding.
He scoffed a bit at her seriousness. "Come on, Ivy, don't be so dramatic."
But he couldn't shake the warning look in her eyes. Her posture radiated tension as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her platinum blonde hair blew in the warm breeze, brushing against her face and neck as she watched him with marked interest and maybe exasperation.
"There's over a million people in Manhattan alone, Benjy. And if shit goes down, it's every fucking man for themselves! You saw those news reports!"
He glared at her. "Yeah, and I also saw the reports that came on an hour later saying it was just a hoax."
She laid her hands on his shoulders, gripping him tightly. Her slender fingers had a lot more strength to them than he'd first given her credit for, but he'd felt that tight grip of her hands more than once, in many different circumstances.
"Benjy I'm serious. I think maybe we should clear out of here before things get really bad. I can't get through to my parents, and I was reading online that this isn't just here in New York. Other states are having similar reports. Crazy fucks who look dead trying to bite people."
He was shocked at her tone; low, serious, and now pleading rather than angry. Never once in the time that he'd known Ivy had he seen her afraid. He supposed having come over from Russia when she was only eighteen with nothing but herself to rely on would do that to a person.
"I think we should get out of the city. At least for a couple days, let things simmer down. Come back when it's safe."
He tipped his head to the side. "I have an exam tomorrow, I can't just bail. If I miss it I'll fail my class and then I'll have to repeat the entire year."
She gritted her teeth and rubbed her temples. "Yeah, and I have to work. The world could come crashing down around them but I still gotta drive those rich fucks from place to place."
He put a hand on her shoulder and offered her a smile. "Hey. If something bad does happen, you're always welcome at my place. Either in my apartment or out in the sticks. My parents can just deal, I'm sure they'd understand if it came to that."
She smiled back at him and combed her long fingers through his hair. "Spasibo (thank you)" she murmured. They stood at the same height, but even still she arched up on her toes so she could kiss his brow. "Call me in the morning? Hopefully things will have settled down by then. Or if not we can go from there."
He nodded. "Yeah, will do. You be safe walking home, alright?"
She threw him a glance over her shoulder as she started to cross the street. "I will!"
"Vsegda pozhaluysta! (you're welcome)" he called after her.
The glittering smile in her eyes was the last thing he remembered ever seeing from her. It was a look that he had held onto all this time, refusing to let it go, and refusing to forget the jade green hue of her eyes, the scent of her skin, a heady blend that smelled like vodka and lavender, and the feel of her silky pale hair brushing against his skin.
The next morning he'd awoken to a racket going on in his apartment building. People throwing things and the slamming of doors, the TVs turned up loud, car alarms blasting and voices shouting. He'd staggered to the window and seen with horror that people were running like bats out of hell every which way, some in pursuit and some fleeing. There were bloodstains streaking the vehicles, police were scattered everywhere, shattered glass thrown like confetti all over the streets.
He'd yanked his clothes on and stuffed everything he thought he might need into his duffle bag, including all of his school textbooks and thrown it over his shoulder before grabbing his cell phone, thanking God there was still service. First he tried his parents, both rolled straight to voicemail. He left messages for both of them, saying he was headed for the cabin and that he'd call when he got there. The next was to Ivy. The phone rang and rang and rang before finally going to voicemail. He left a message saying he was headed to her place to come get her. No way in hell was he going to leave her behind, not in this mess. Not when she'd been right and he should have listened to her and left last night together.
He was fortunate to live in a building with secured parking. He flung his duffle bag into the backseat of his car and cranked up the engine. The radio played a frantic broadcast, urging people to stay indoors, secure their homes, and not answer the door for anybody for any reason, and to stay tuned into the radio and news stations for further updates. He switched it off and blew through the security gate of his building.
New York traffic, as always, was hell, but thanks to Ivy's job as a cab driver, he'd learned the best ways to get around most of the heavier flows, and within fifteen minutes he was pulling up to the curb outside her building. She roomed with three other people in a loft space in a grungy building with graffiti sprayed over every inch of the concrete. He locked his door and climbed out, running up the stairs, bypassing all the people that were in his way. Russian words floated past him as he ran down the hall to Ivy's door. He banged on the cheap door with his fist, calling out her name, but no one answered. He finally mustered up all his strength and after three or four tries, managed to kick in the door. What he saw was his first real taste of the horror he would be a party to for the rest of his days.
Bodies were laid out all over the floor, blood gushing from massive head wounds. All their skulls were smashed open, brains oozing out onto the concrete staining the material blackish red. There were three in total and as he wandered into the room, numb with terrible shock, he saw that they didn't just have wounds to the head. There was trauma all over them, facial lacerations, twisted limbs, broken bones that just should not bend the way they were. The smell of rotting flesh was overwhelming as he inhaled but that wasn't what had him puking all over the floor. It was that when he looked down again at the bodies he recognized them all. They all were Ivy's roommates.
There were obvious signs of struggle. The apartment was torn to shreds, furniture broken up, glass smashed, dents and other indentations in the walls. The TV was shattered as though someone had kicked it in. One of the wooden chairs from the kitchen table was overturned and missing a leg, the jagged splinters of the stump that remained achingly sharp. It was then that Benjamin noticed that one of the bodies near the chair had a ragged stab wound through the top of the skull. Likely made by the chair leg, which was notably missing. Had Ivy done this? If she had…why? His stomach rolled and he tried not to retch again.
He searched the apartment and found nothing of use, but something comforted him. Some of Ivy's belongings were gone. It must have meant she'd taken them with her…that she'd made it out of here alive. He fumbled for his phone and frantically called her again.
"Ivy, please pick up! Where are you, you were right, we gotta get out of here!" His message was cut off when he heard horrible growling coming up behind him. He turned and through the loft door that he'd left open he saw Ivy's landlady, a harmless old woman with a head of silver hair and deep set eyes and swollen, arthritic fingers from working well into retirement age, staring at him. Her skin was ashen and her head was tipped to the side, like her neck had no strength to hold up her skull. She wore a bloodstained nightgown and nothing else. Her bare feet were streaked with cuts and there was dirt and filth all the way up to her ankles. She growled and shuffled towards Benjamin, arms outstretched, teeth gnashing.
"Mrs. Barkov?" Benjamin asked. He was shaking so badly that he could hardly get the old woman's name out.
She staggered towards him, making a strangled hissing shriek as she did so. He'd tried to dart around her but she'd been surprisingly fast for the stiff way that she moved. She grabbed him, tearing at his clothes, trying to hold him down and bite him. He'd cried out with high-pitched terror as he grappled with her, trying to keep her slavering mouth away from him. He managed to fight her off and shove her away where she tripped over one of the other bodies and crashed to the floor. Before she could get up he was racing out the door, back down to his car and then into the street, darting around vehicles that had stalled out or crashed. Everywhere he turned there was pandemonium. People running around like ants without a trail back to the anthill, some of them even trying to swarm his car, smearing the glass of his windows with filth and blood. He punched the gas and swung around obstacles as best he could while he fumbled for his phone. Even as he did so a report came on the radio saying that the National Guard was in route to lock down the city. Nobody getting in or out. His heart slammed against his breast bone like it was trying to burst out of his chest and spatter into the windshield. He finally managed to hit redial and put the phone to his ear.
"I swear to God, Ivy, pick up the phone! They're gonna lock down the city! We gotta go now! Ivy please, call me!"
But he had no word from her. Nothing. Only the screaming silence and desperation the likes of which he had never felt before or since. He'd raced away from the city, flooring it as hard as he could, using the back roads his parents had forced him to drive over and over until he memorized it, using the best possible way to escape the city. He made it out just before the army trucks rolled in, and that's when he'd hit the traffic jam of the rest of the other lucky individuals who had made it out of the city alive. He'd kept driving without looking back until he was good and clear of any kind of civilization before pulling over on the highway and trying his parents again. Still nothing. Then one more time he tried Ivy.
"Ivy I made it out of the city. If you did too call me and I'll come get you. Hell, even if you didn't, call me. Stay safe. Ya lyublyu tebya. (I love you)" He hung up the phone and stuffed it in his pocket and tried to refuse his tears as he followed the winding road and searched for the well hidden path that led to his parents' cabin. That horrible day had been nothing but a terrifying blur, a memory he had tried to just let go of because it hurt too much. He hadn't spoken Russian since that night and by now he'd forgotten most of it. But try as he might, he couldn't let go of her, and the way he had ignored her good advice. It would always haunt him. He'd never get the chance to see her again, and he knew he wasn't the only one who had lost everything, but he hadn't ever had that much to start with. Sure his family had money, but money didn't talk back to him when he needed a sounding board, and money could never fill the empty spaces of his apartment night after night. That green paper couldn't fill the void in his life. Nothing had ever filled the void as well as she did. His new adopted family had gone a long way to soothing those hurts, but he'd never spoken of her. He saw no reason to twist and rip at the scar tissue, not even over whiskey when the kiddies had gone to bed and it was just the adults sitting round lighted candles and playing cards so as they gave their confessions they wouldn't have to look too hard at each other.
When he'd looked up and seen those pale green eyes, that ivory skin, the silver glow of her hair and her that roughly accented voice, he'd known it was her. He hadn't even needed to see her tattoo to know it. He'd know her anywhere. He'd dare to call her the only woman he'd ever really loved, but even that was a twisted convoluted mess of feelings he didn't have the time to deal with now. Right now, in this second, Glenn was dying, and he was the only one who could do something. She offered to help, not quite believing it was him, but he saw that wary gleam in her eye slowly opening up into a flood of revelation. They'd hash it all out later. But right now he had to help Glenn.
Deep down in a basement turned survival bunker he tried his best to relieve the pain and help Glenn breathe but he knew the clock was ticking. His family frantically surrounded him, about to tear themselves to pieces with fretting. He finally looked up and stared them all in the eyes. "I can't do anything unless I have the tools. And we're running out of time."
He looked up into the worried, exhausted, pain stricken faces of his family, but despite all of that stress he saw determination. An unrelenting drive to not give up until the very last breath had been spent and the last of their blood spilt. He was not at all surprised when Fox volunteered to go for the medical supplies they needed, located in a hospital about ten miles from where they were hiding. Ivy offered to take them there; her eyes met his and he saw more of that revelation, that resolve that she help him, because it just might be who she hoped it was. He didn't hold it against her for not recognizing or believing it was him just yet. She had obviously been through hell to still be standing here. He could see it in the silver of her hair, the lines of stress around her eyes and mouth, the way she flinched and twitched like an abused animal at the slightest movement in her direction. Not to mention the fingers and piece of her hand she was missing- he had to wonder what that was all about. He would help her remember who he was when all that could be done for Glenn was accomplished.
Rick and Michonne also offered to go. Carl protested his father's choice, as Daryl protested Fox's, but neither runner would yield. There were tense, emotion laced words passed between the pairs but in the end the four of them had vanished into the night like ghosts, and all Benjamin could do was pray they came back soon.
"Maggie. If they don't come back within about two hours…I can't…there's nothing I can do."
She wouldn't look at him at first but when she did there was fire in her eyes. "You have to," she growled.
He shook his head sadly. "If they don't come back soon, he'll be too weak. He won't have the strength to endure the surgery- his heart will give out, and I cannot ethically or morally put him through so much pain when there is no way he'll survive. If it comes to that…we will end it painlessly."
She looked at him full in the face and all of her grief, all her pain, all her wishful thinking, the full breadth of the crushing weight of her emotions was there for him to see, and it only made the next two hours an even more agonizing wait.
He can still hear the monsters that have stalked his dreams for years, hissing right around the corner, momentarily unaware of their presence, but not for long. The gun in his hand was a warm, familiar weight but the warmth didn't get past his calloused, blood slicked palm. He holstered it for a moment and turned to the scarred woman who was crouched right next to him, watching over his shoulder around the corner.
"I'll go for broke. Run interference and give you time to get out. I'll double back and meet you down in the ambulance bay where we stashed the vehicles."
Fox's fingers bit down into his wrist, her eyes blazing. "No, Rick! We all go together!"
He shook his head. "Not this time, Fox. This time I need you to go. I need you to make sure that all these supplies get back to Benjamin. That's what this was for. If we fail, it have all been for naught, and there's no need for more than one of us to…"
She almost slapped him, but refusing to make that much noise she twisted her fingers into his hair and pulled. "I'm not gonna let you go out there and get ripped to pieces! Carl needs you! Judith needs you! Daryl needs you! I need you!"
She could see the stress and the responsibility threatening to break him, etching lines across his face and tightening the muscles of his jaw. "I promised Daryl I'd get you back safe. I tried to do my best for Carl…he'll watch over Judith. You all helped me take care of both of them when I couldn't do it myself. And I will always be grateful for that."
She unfolded her fingers and pulled his head down so their foreheads touched. He wasn't positive, but he thought maybe both of them were shaking. "Rick, you can't do this. We need you." Her voice was as shaken and as broken as he had ever heard her, and it wrangled something in him to hear her breaking down.
He looked up at her and the weight of everything he could never say was in his eyes. The aching loneliness he'd had to endure since Lori's death, his struggle to raise Carl and Judith without their mother, all of the guilt from his previous decisions, the daily struggle of his conflicted feelings where she was concerned. Since the first day he'd known her she had pushed him to every emotional limit that he'd ever had, dragging him kicking and screaming through every spectrum humans were capable of feeling, including a broken, twisted, foggy love which he would never shackle her with because it wasn't right. She belonged to Daryl, and she always had. He understood, he accepted it, he believed that it was as it should be, but all the logic in the world did not quell the ache, the emptiness, and the pain. In turn she had accepted him and all of those broken bones, crookedly healed, shuffling and scraping feelings, and hadn't judged him. Hadn't held it against him. She had allowed him into her life, into a special niche in her heart that nobody else occupied- not even Daryl. And for all the pain, all the aggravation, the fear, the stress, the confusion, he would forever be grateful to have known her.
"Do one thing for me," he murmured, looking up at her now, clearing his eyes of the cloudiness of most of his feelings. He had to master himself or they would never make it out alive. When she met his eyes and nodded his lips twitched and his heart beat fast.
"Tell me your name."
He swore he saw a tear slide down her cheek. She pressed her forehead against his again, her fingers slinking down to the nape of his neck and holding him to her before pulling him up to his feet. She wrapped him in her arms, pressing her cheek against his and whispered her name in his ear. He almost shuddered when he heard the soft murmur. He couldn't stop the way his arms encircled her and clutched her close, pulling her flush against him, letting his face bury into her neck, inhaling the smell of her hair and skin. If he had to die, it was as good as any memory to bring with him into battle. And even when he let her go, he could still feel the searing scorch of her body heat against him, and it chased away the cold clasp of death that began to hunt him as he rounded the corner into the room full of the walking dead.
The moment he hears them come back his heart floods with relief. The basement door shudders and then is pulled open. Michonne and the mysterious woman who Benjamin says is Ivy Sokolv, a very old friend of his, come in first, carrying heavy duffels of supplies. Immediately Maggie and Benjamin are on their feet, Carl too, all of them hurrying forward to unpack everything and arrange it so Benjamin can go to work. Daryl doesn't wait. He takes the basement stairs two at a time and emerges into the cool night air, searching frantically for the other half of the runner party.
When he sees her it's not like the other times. She's gone without him on runs before many times but whenever she comes back, she always stands and lets him watch her for a minute, toying with him a little, looking as tough and as bad ass as she can, just teasing him because she likes to play games. She'd hold that separation for just a little before he'd take the lead and break it and come to her, pulling her in possessively, the rumble of a growl in his throat not to stand so precariously on her pedestal because one day she'll fall off. She never has before, and she's never shown a slip of confidence before. Not until now.
Now when she sees him, she doesn't wait. She literally runs across the lawn and flings herself into his arms, forcing him to drop his crossbow to the grass. He catches her in a flying curtain of hair, clothing, and limbs as she clutches him with everything she's got. She's shaking and shivering in his arms and now he can hear her whispering desperately against his neck. He catches the sound of his name and the word 'please' over and over again and at this he pulls back a little so he can look into her eyes. He's never heard her talk like this. He's heard her beg him for things before, for him to distract her from pain and fear she can't cope with on her own, but those tones are always harsh and demanding, anger covering up terror. This is different. There is fear all over her. She even smells like it, her normal scent of spice and the close quartered air of the woods at midnight is gone, replaced with the bitter tang of panic and misery.
"Easy, Dahlia, easy. Breathe." He murmurs in her ear, letting his warm breath ghost over her skin as his hands slide up her back and over her shoulders and anchor her to his chest. She shakes and shudders against him and he swears he can hear her softly sobbing. "I have you," he whispers.
It takes a long time before she settles back into her skin. When she finally stops shaking she pulls back and wipes at her eyes, trying so hard to shove down all her fear and slip back into the skin that she shows the whole world, the one who's never afraid, the one who doesn't care what she looks like to anybody else, the one that will do anything she has to do in order to protect the ones she loves. "I'm sorry," she breathes against his neck. "It was very close. It's never been that close. Never."
"Where's Rick?" he asks as she slowly untangles herself.
She takes a long breath in. "He's in the truck. He's pretty shaken up. He needs you."
He blinks in acknowledgement and then looks down at her. "You sure you're ok?" he questions.
She lets out a shaky laugh and shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about it. I can't."
He doesn't respond at first. It's not uncommon for Fox to not say something about what's bothering her until the crisis has passed. It's only in that still quiet when she'll break down. He prepares himself to be ready for it as she walks past him and down into the basement with the others. Daryl turns to the truck and finds Rick sitting in the back of the tailgate, his legs hanging off the back, his python in his hand. He's spattered in gore so thick that its cracking like dried paint on his skin. Besides the blood he looks like hell. His skin is pale, there's a quiver in his hand that holds the gun, and his eyes hold a vacant, terribly withdrawn look. Daryl hasn't seen him look like this since Lori died, and it scares him but he doesn't let it show. He's far too practiced at keeping all of that locked away. He thinks for once it'll benefit Rick. Rick doesn't need any more emotion thrown on him if the fragility in his eyes is any way to judge.
"You alright?" Daryl asks. It's not really for an answer, it's obvious the man is walking a thin line between reality and losing it- it's really just to get Rick to speak. When Rick doesn't answer and just stares off into space for a while Daryl hops up into the tail bed of the truck and reaches into his saddlebag and pulls out the bottle of whiskey he stashed there. He's had it there for weeks, way before they took off like bats out of hell from home and until now he'd forgotten it was there but now he's glad for it. He pulls it out and unscrews the cap and holds it out to Rick.
"I don't need that." Rick's voice is a growl and he pushes the bottle in Daryl's hand away.
"It'll loosen your jaw. Whatever happened you need to say something. Fox ain't talkin' and both of you can't stone wall this. And you can handle this better than she can." It's no secret that anything Fox does, she does in excess, and whiskey is one of her favorite vices when the day has been bad. He doesn't intend to let her know he has the bottle stashed away or else it'll probably be gone by tomorrow morning.
Rick yields and takes a long pull from the bottle. He shudders as the alcohol kicks its way down his throat and into his gut. Almost immediately his head swims and he hands the bottle back to Daryl who drinks after him and then caps it. He'll open it up again if he has too, but when Rick starts to speak he doesn't think he'll need it.
"It's never been that close before. I thought for sure I wasn't coming back. I didn't think I'd ever see anybody ever again…I thought they were going to tear me to pieces. It was just like that first summer…I felt like I didn't even know how to aim the gun except at my own head." Daryl watched him fumble with the weapon, checking the rounds, and indeed there was only one left. "I was ready…just like in the tank. I had the gun against my head…and then she comes out of nowhere. Just comes down like lightening and I thought for sure I was already dead because everything felt numb and loose for once."
He stared at Daryl and the hunter watched him carefully. He sensed a little bit of an unraveling in his friend but he'd be there to scoop up the pieces and set them to right again. It was never a conscious choice or understanding, he just did what he thought was right to the best that he could.
"She pulled me out and when we made it back outside, Michonne and Ivy came back for us. We'd of both died down there if they hadn't. I'd given them the keys and the supplies, thinking Fox would stay with them and she'd make sure that they came back here. Shoulda known better but it didn't matter. They came back for us. Helped us get out."
Daryl unscrewed the cap and took another hit off the whiskey. "Yeah, you shoulda known better. Fox doesn't do anything unless she was gonna do it herself originally."
Rick stared up at him and Daryl offered him the bottle. He took down a healthy swallow and then gave it back to Daryl who capped it. "She told me her name."
"Why?" He wasn't angry or possessive or jealous. It was just strange. Fox had made it fairly clear to him many years ago that she intended to take that secret to her grave, the only ones who would know her name being himself and Luna.
Rick ducked his head for a minute, staring down at the barrel of his gun for a long while before he looked back up and answered. "I didn't think I was going to come back. So before I left, I asked her to."
Daryl was quiet for a while but in the end he stashed the whiskey back into his saddlebag and then hopped off the tail-bed and looked at Rick knowingly. It was the man's choice if he wanted to stay or go but he was offering him that choice as merely a man looking at his friend. Not a soldier looking at his leader with obligation in his eyes. Rick had to be willing, otherwise it would all be for naught.
Rick slid off the tail bed and followed Daryl into the basement. It was hard to move his feet at first but when he came downstairs and he saw Carl he couldn't help but smile. He went right over to his son and hugged him tight, grateful for every moment they'd ever had, grateful he had a family that would hold him together until he was ready to face his son with his head screwed on the right way. It had taken more out of him this time to get back to that point, and even though his son was grown now, everything had been worth it embrace him again. It reminded him of how much he wanted the same moment with Judith and his resolve began to run even deeper than before.
There was a lot of things that she could swallow without trouble, but watching Benjamin hack into Glenn like a mad scientist was more than she could take. The reek of blood and bile was overwhelming down in the basement. The medic was working almost frantically, Ivy at his shoulder helping him as he needed it. She feels wrong but she flees the basement and runs into the cool night air, her skin feeling feverish. Her gut squirms and heaves and she staggers away into the weeds and she retches hard, very little of anything coming up as she coughs and shudders, one hand catching herself on the side of the house. It just reminds her how long its been since they ate.
She knew he was following her but she didn't expect the cool rag he must have soaked in the water they took from the river against her neck. It felt wonderful against her overheated skin and helped to soothe the headache starting to pound in her temples.
"You alright?" his gravel rough voice asks.
She shudders again, still feeling weak through her entire body. She shuts her eyes to try and block out the horror but it all just comes rushing back. She forces herself to stand up and open her eyes even though she feels like heaving again and she looks at the man who she's loved for so long and he sees the concern for her in his face. She doesn't have the heart to lie to him and say that she's fine, but she doesn't want to worry him either. So she ducks the question.
"I could use a drink." She could smell the whiskey he'd gotten into even from here and she's jealous.
He shakes his head. "You're already puking, you haven't eaten, you haven't slept, and you've barely had any water. It'll just make you sicker."
"Oh you'd know all about that wouldn't you," she snaps. She's ashamed that she was so vulnerable in front of him, that she hadn't been able to get it together before he saw her like this, and for back when they'd first returned. She turns to walk away from him, stalking towards the truck and his bike where she knows he must have stashed the liquor but before she gets more than a pace or two he grabs her by the wrist and spins her around.
"Don't do this Dahlia. Not now."
She glares at him and wants to fight him. She wants to pry his fingers off her wrist and tell him that if she wants to drink until she pukes blood she will and there ain't a damn thing he can do to stop her. She wants to tell him that sometimes a person just fucking needs to numb it out and let it mellow until the morning. But she sees the look in him. He's not going to let go. Even if she kicks and screams and hollers and calls him every name she can think of. It reminds her of a conversation she had with him so many years ago that it's almost like a dream. On the porch of the Greene plantation house, his demand that she loosen her pride and open herself to the idea of trusting the group, because otherwise she'll never be apart of them and eventually she'd be ditched on the side of the road. He'd held her just like this too even as she'd spat insults and curses at him, hateful and stinging like a viper. He'd held onto her and then she hadn't had a clue as to why, but now she knew.
The wave of knowledge and understanding washing over her almost made her want to cry all over again. This is why she tried to never let it in, because it was just too much to take. On the good days it was easy, wonderful, just like breathing to feel how much he cared for her. But on the bad days it hurt. It hurt in the best possible way, because it was just proof that she was worth everything to him, scars and stinging jabs and all and she knew she didn't deserve it but he was still here.
"I just don't know how to handle it. I can't go back to living like this! Like I'm going to lose you and everyone I love every single day!"
His grip on her wrist softens and he pulls her close. He slides his hands up and cups her face. "Dixons got a long history of looking into the bottom of a whiskey bottle for answers to that question. Ain't got us nothin' but scars and jail time." His thumb traces her jaw bone and when she tries to pull away he holds her firmly and tips her head up so she's looking him in the eye again. "Listen to me. We are going to make it, ok? As a family we will make it. All of us. And when we get to Atlanta we'll bring Luna and Judith home. I swear to God."
She lets out a breath. "You don't even believe in God." She traces her hand down her shoulder blades to the tattoos of the demons on his shoulder and looks up at him.
"You believe in the phoenix." He puts his hand on her sternum and presses down firmly where he knew her tattoo lay. The fingers on his other hand slip down her body down to the left side of her ribcage and he traces exactly where the two lines of ink lay. "Ever we die, ever we rise."
She sways with him. She doesn't know how or why or in what way she ever came to deserve the man against her. All she can feel is grateful because if he wasn't here and all else remained equal she would have fallen apart long ago. She's amazed at how day in and day out of this insanity he holds her together.
They eventually go back into the basement and do their best to help Benjamin any way they can, but like most things under the realm of his expertise, they are mostly better off staying out of the way. It feels like a year passes and finally Benjamin peels himself back from where he's been hunched over the table he's been leaning over that Glenn is laying on. Glenn's on his back, tube down his throat, the portable ventilator they'd gone to hell and back to get resting near his arm, breathing for him. There's a massive scar on his chest from Benjamin's incision and they all know that if Glenn survives this it'll be permanent.
She watches Benjy transfuse him with blood taken from their family members. Everyone who can gives a little and finally the medic pulls his gloves off and leans against the wall. "That's it," he breathes. "I can do no more." He pushes his hair out of his face and stares up at them with fatigued eyes and hands that quiver in exhaustion. He tells them that either Glenn will or won't wake up and it's between him and God now.
Fox can see he's almost ready to collapse. She's surprised when Ivy slinks forward and nudges him towards the bed she's made for herself in the far corner of the basement. He follows willingly and Fox can hear her murmuring words that are not English. As he sinks down onto her bed he responds in kind as his eyes close. Ivy slowly comes back towards the light where the rest of the group is gathered.
Maggie sits vigil with Glenn while the rest of them catch a few hours of sleep, but even eventually she gives into unconsciousness. She's slumped in the chair she'd been using to sit next to the table Glenn is on and Fox knows that when she wakes she'll have a helluva stiff neck. Fox's internal clock tells her its close to dawn but she doesn't bother going up the stairs to check. She watches Glenn, and at first when she seems him twitch she thinks the worst. That he died during the night and now he's come back. Her fingers twist around the handle of her blade, ready to end it quickly and silently before the group can panic.
But then his eyes open and they are only cloudy with confusion and pain, not death. She heaves a sigh of relief and slips towards him, her fingers finding his hand. He tries to speak but she shushes him, the tube still down his throat. "Were here. All of us," she murmurs.
She can see what he's saying with his eyes. When he turns just slightly so he can see Maggie she feels his gratitude washing over her like a wave of release. After all these years, she's paid down a debt that had been like a splinter in her mind. He squeezes her hand back and she nods with understanding. She slips around the side of the table and gently shakes Maggie's shoulder. She starts, her hand going to her hip where her knife is holstered, but then she realizes what's happening, and then sees Glenn's eyes opened.
Fox leaves them in peace, in hushed, tearful rejoicing, allowing them as much privacy as she can. She settles down next to Daryl who is still asleep but is aware that someone else is also awake. Ivy is watching her closely.
"You were ready to die to help him," she says, her voice hoarse and thick. "And for your leader too."
Fox nods tiredly. "We have been together many years. I would die for any of them."
"There is only one I would die for." She glances to where Benjamin is asleep on her bed and there's something in her eyes but Fox's is too tired to know exactly what it is. "He is who I knew Before. I did not believe it at first, but there is no doubt now."
"Then stay," Fox breathes. She is too tired to continue now. She leans against Daryl and he unconsciously lifts his arm a little so she can bury herself into his side.
"Everything ok?" His voice is slow with the drawl of sleep.
She nods. "Glenn's awake." She says this through a yawn and before he can respond she's asleep against him and he's content to stay still awhile longer. They'd need all the rest they could get for what lay ahead.
Everything hurts. Their muscles, their flesh, their bones, their skin, their lungs, everything. Everything just hurts more than they know how to deal with. But deal they do because they have no choice. They have no choice but to endure. In the end they all slowly realize they don't have to know how they'll survive the day, it's just enough that as a family, they know they will.
FanFicGirl10: Ok Luna is really starting to annoy me (I love her but still). I mean seriously all she wants to do is boss everyone around, she never thinks things through (Something she needs to work on because that will get you killed or worse) and doesn't want to listed to others (Case in point why her and Judith got kidnapped in the first place) And now that Judith has a plan she doesn't want to do it! Well hello she better start listening to Judith because that might be the only way to save each other. Anyways good chapter, Update Soon!
Heh, I understand about Luna. She's a tough pill to swallow. Kinda like her mother, huh? (That is deliberate xD) But she is capable of change, and not being so stubborn, case in point when she finally caves to Judith. Like both her parents, it takes a lot for her to unbend her pride and to be willing to do whatever it is she has to do in order to survive and in this case, escape. Her mother and father both are incredibly stubborn, so you could say she gets it honestly. Judith will get through to her though, as she did by the end of the chapter, because Luna won't go so far as to put her sister in danger.
Brittney: I like the girls' plan! I can't wait to see if it works out. Luna isn't very happy about playing nice with the other people there but if she wants to get out of there she'll have to try. Can't wait for the next update!
Hah, indeed, she's gonna have to learn how to get along as it were. She hates the idea but she doesn't have much choice. Judith understands well the concept if you can't beat 'em join 'em…
Emberka-2012: At this establishment not only Mal serves as a good pet. All the others are no better, they think that they are doing something worthwhile. However, some of them die. Interestingly, they do not fear that may become the next victim of accident? Except that some kind of emotion slipped from Tau and Leland. Well, let's see how Luna and Judith will play in spies.
Mal's definitely Jenner's pet. He tries to tell himself he's not, but really he is. Kind of how like Merle worked for the Governor in the show. The others follow his lead because he's strong enough to command them as it were. They are afraid of being the victim of Jenner's meddling or Walkers but they don't say so, because they don't think there's anything they can do about it. But they definitely do worry.
lunasky99: Wow it must have taken alot of her willpower to not punch Mal in the face until it couldn't be called a face anymore... well maybe not that much but until he had his fair share of hurt. I'm so happy Luna and Judith are back together again!. Haha can't wait for the fight -if there is going to be a fight, which is very likely- between Luna and Raoul I bet she's going to put him right in his place, and hopefully she doesn't get in to much trouble for doing it. Good plan Judith, good plan, hopefully Luna can succeed and not let her temper get the better of her... except for the Rauol/Luna fight because I really want to read about how she kicks his ass and makes him cry like a baby when she's like two times smaller then him. xD P.S Please don't kill Glenn I'm begging you and I don't beg!
Hehe, Luna is just itching to take out her anger and frustration on anybody who makes themselves a target, and whether that's Mal or Raoul or anybody else she doesn't really care. There's gonna be some throwin' down for sure, and oh it'll be so much fun xD Luna's gonna have a helluva time tamping down her temper when she deals with Mal, but she'll make an effort, because she understand Judith's reasoning that they have to approach escaping from a different angle now. And as for Glenn's fate…well, now you know it since I put the replies at the end ;)
RedneckBunny: The one thing I can't stand about your stories is the wait! Atleast with Wildflower, I'd found it after it was done so I could read straight through! But we readers can't force you to write faster, it would damage the story. Ugh... waiting.
I know! And I feel so awful for making you guys wait so long, I've just been so busy with school and work lately that it's sucking up my life. And also because I refuse to put out anything less than my best, so if I have to fight with the chapter until I'm happy then that's just what it's gotta be xD
Jerrie Higarashi: Loving this chapter. Hmmm, I am Totally Shipping Luna and Mal. YOU HAVE TO GET THEM TOGETHER! I am really liking Tau. Man this story is just getting better and better. PLEZ UPDATE SOON. PLEZ. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. I may be late however but don't worry when I have the time. I will always review. :) now, enough talking, more updating. PLEZ.
Heh, Luna and Mal ship huh? They're both looking at you going 'no way in fucking hell' but we'll just have to see what happens hm? Hah, I'm so glad you guys are taking to my OCs I was worried about that when I was writing this.