Chapter 68

It was bright and warm, sunlight streaming through my bedroom window in a sunny morning greeting. Or was it morning? I went to flip over to see if Negan's men had been kind enough to leave my beside clock, but something heavy and large blocked me, fitting itself entirely against my back. I squinted, feeling for the covers to push them away. Smooth, warm skin against my fingertips startled me, and I grabbed onto a large, callused hand on my hip. I smiled.

Daryl.

After our conversation last night, I'd gone to bed with guilt and contrition heavy in my heart. The feelings had covered me like a mourning veil and I'd wallowed in it, unsuccessfully holding back stinging tears until I fell asleep. The knowledge of what I'd put Daryl through and the memory of how disconnected he'd looked as he stood with filth staining his skin was almost more than I could bear. I'd gotten out of bed multiple times, my hand heating the cool metal of my doorknob as I fretted over going to him or not, but each attempt ended in frustration as I slunk back to my bed – the only one in town. That hadn't helped my guilt much either. But eventually I fell asleep, and despite how restless it started out, I'd slept hard. I felt refreshed, my body less sore; almost like a new person entirely. I hoped Daryl felt the same way.

He snuggled up tighter against me, pressing into my backside. I bit my lip with a smile and closed my eyes, not wanting to get up just yet. His beard tickled me as his lips ghosted over my neck and with each feather-light kiss my shame began to melt away. He moved, sliding the hand on my hip under my shirt, up my belly and to my breast. As his lips moved past my jaw, I turned to meet them with my own. He kissed me deeply, his weight pressing me on my back into the mattress, but something felt off; different yet familiar. I didn't stop, however, loving the taste of him and how his fingers felt around the waistband of my pajama pants, feeling their way inside.

A moan left my mouth, filling his. I clutched onto his board shoulders, feeling the cool, smooth sensation of cured leather under my hands… Immediately I stopped. Confused, my eyes snapped open as I pulled away from him, his lips leaving mine with a smack. Where I expected to see blue I saw a burnished brown, and his eyes crinkled at the sides in a wicked grin.

Negan began to chuckle as I stared at him in horrified disbelief. I couldn't find my voice to scream nor my strength to fight. I couldn't react. I couldn't do a damn thing other than lay there and watch him laugh at me.

"Don't look so fucking shocked to see me. I hope you weren't expecting someone else in bed with you, wife."

I opened my mouth to scream and in a flash his hand clamped over my face, muffling me. I struggled, eyes shut tight as I thrashed, hit, and kicked him. I didn't think my actions were doing much good as the more I moved, the more tangled and confined I became in the sheets. I heard Negan say my name over and over, but he sounded different now; panicky. I pushed away from him, struggling to the side of the bed, and as I began to fall over the side, a strange sensation bolted through me; like I was crashing down the descent of the highest roller coaster.

I jerked up fully awake now. Everything was like it had been seconds ago, yet Negan wasn't beside me in bed anymore – Daryl was. I sighed with both relief and stress, running a hand over my sweaty face as he put comforting arms around me. Daryl breathed consoling whispers in my ear, apologizing for things he'd hadn't done. I turned into him and buried my face in his neck, horrified at myself. The dream had been so vivid; everything I'd felt had been so real. For a moment, my nightmare had been a reality, and I was currently clinging onto Daryl as if he'd evaporate right out of my arms and I'd be left with nothing yet again.

"You came to me," I whispered after calming and ducked from under his chin to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry about last night."

His thumb ran down my cheek. "Me too. I didn't like leavin' ya the way I did. No matter what happened."

I took his hand in mine and kissed him, the impression of my nightmare lingering but beginning to fade.

"Can't say I blame you." I smiled thinly in an attempt to lessen the burden he felt. "I might've done the same if I were you. It wasn't my sharpest moment and it almost cost us both."

"You want to talk about it?" He asked and it took me a second longer than it should have for me to realize that he meant my dream. I shook my head.

"Let's talk about something else." I shuddered. "Did everyone get back okay?"

"Dwight and the others got back not too long after you went to bed. I slipped in the meeting halfway through; seems like Negan's got his ass covered in shit for a while." Daryl looked away briefly. "Sasha didn't make it, though."

"What?" I asked, disbelieving. "Dwight said... But… What happened?"

"Sasha had a plan of her own. Drove the van straight into the Sanctuary. They couldn't get her out."

I sat back, imaging what terrors Negan could be putting Sasha through right now, or if she was alive to know them at all.

"It worked, though," Daryl continued humbly. "She got nearly every single last fucker in there, but Maggie refused to attack. So that's 'bout as far as we got on Negan and whoever was supposed to get out didn't. Not yet."

"Damn." I couldn't believe it. I went to bed sick with worry not just for Daryl but for my friends out fighting a battle. Bad thoughts were always dark passengers in my mind, yet I relied on the hope that that was all they were – thoughts. "So, what do we do now?"

"We watch the Sanctuary. See how long they can last. There's some talk they're thinnin' out the herd which we expected, but the way they're doin' it is strange. It's got Dwight thinkin' they're up to somethin'. I think so, too."

"You know they are," I concurred.

"Until we know for sure, we ain't gonna do nothin' but watch. Dwight's guys are on it now, but it makes me uneasy. We gotta meet with the Kingdom and Somerset people to decide what to do next."

I paused a moment, unsure. "What should I do next?"

Daryl followed suit and hesitated, locking his eyes with mine. He was worried, I could tell, but resolute. He didn't want me out there.

"For now… We stay put until we know what to do next. There ain't gonna be no runnin' around looking for trouble. You're stayin' here until it's safe."

"I want to be there."

Daryl took on a look of confusion.

"When we take him," I clarified. "I want to be there when we take him; when we win. I have to be a part of it. I have as much of a right to face him as anyone else."

Daryl inhaled deeply and clasped my hands in his. He nodded slowly. "Alright… You'll be there, but out of the way and out of the fight."

"I will." I smiled and kissed him, but Negan's face sprung up at me. I jolted back.

Daryl looked concerned. "Everythin' alright?"

"Fine." I cleared my throat and started up from the bed. "Just need to shower and clear my head. Wait for me?"

At his nod, I turned for the bathroom as worry started to eat at me.

It was just a dream. I'll forget about it soon, I thought and stepped onto the cool tile of the bathroom, and I wasn't sure if it was the coldness that seeped through the soles of my feet that caused me to shiver or Negan hiding in my memories.

Dwight stood at the crest of the hill, the binoculars giving him an up-close view of the Sanctuary. The walkers rambled around the asphalt, trudging in dazed circles through Negan's front yard. A good bit of them had found their way outside of the fence and roamed the streets in droves. That meant the Saviors were keeping quiet inside; being discreet. It didn't look like any of them were risking their necks to kidnap a walker and drag them inside. Dwight had stood on this hill, watching the Sanctuary like a hawk for the better part of the day, but he had yet to see anyone go in or come out. That was either good or bad.

He lowered the binoculars and looked over his shoulder. "You sure Randy and Wade saw them taking walkers inside? It was dark when they were out here. Could be they saw the walkers voluntarily going in."

"Man, they swear." Trevor shook his head and threw up an arm. "I don't know. That's what they told me, that's what they told you."

Dwight thought about their story and how sure they seemed of its truth. He mulled it over as he faced forward and looked through the binoculars once more. Besides the festival of the dead and Sasha's last mark of destruction, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The bottom floor of the Sanctuary was boarded up and the outside stairs had been blocked off, preventing the dead from climbing the building and breaking in from up higher. Other than a massacre, this was something he might expect to see.

"Okay," he sighed and stepped back, blinking from the pressure of the binoculars. "Let's have Thomas and Vic keep a look out here. Randy and Wade can have tonight off. We'll switch until we can work something out with Alexandria and the Kingdom."

"The sooner, the better," Trevor sighed and Dwight agreed.

"Head back around sunset. Shouldn't be but a couple more hours." Dwight patted Trevor's arm. "Give those two the rundown. They radio me as soon as they see something – anything."

Trevor dipped his head. "I'll let 'em know."

Dwight hopped in the truck; his mind not racing like it had been several hours earlier. As he started the ignition and set it in drive, he let the heaviness in his chest sink in, no longer trying to push it out. It was as the tires hit the pavement that the tears fell and he blinked them away angrily. He knew it wasn't her fault. It wasn't anyone's fault, really; only Negan's. He was the reason for all this shit. He was the reason Sherry was trapped in there scared, alone, wondering…

"Dammit!" He yelled and hit the steering wheel. "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!"

His knuckles smarted as blood filled in the crevasses of his skin. Dwight wiped it away on his jeans, but it only pooled back up again, a tiny trickle running down his hand. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and compartmentalized his grief. Right now, he needed to focus on what was most important and that was getting Sherry out alive and unharmed. He didn't care so much about Negan or what happened to him. There were a lot of things Dwight wanted to say and do to him, sure, but that could wait. And if all he did was wait until the day he died for personal retribution, well, so be it. He would have what he wanted most in the end.

By the time he got to Alexandria, his eyes were clear and he felt that same stony mask rearrange his features. He pulled to a stop by the makeshift gate a few soldiers had made and cut off the truck, swinging out barely a second after. King Ezekiel and his people were already present, filling up the town in what resembled a neighborhood barbeque. If only the horde a few miles south were here, it might actually be one.

"Dwight," Rick called his name. He stood with Maggie, the king, and a few others. "What's the news?"

Dwight joined the group. "Nothing. I didn't see a damn thing other than the biters still have the place covered. They're holed up in there; have pretty much every way in or out barricaded. Nothing went in and no one came out…"

"How many dawns will the usurper see before he takes his last breath?" King Ezekiel pondered aloud but with purpose. "If we continue to hinder ourselves, he may be a witness to more than the miracle of the living dead. He may yet live to see the Messiah. How long shall we wait him out before we've had enough?"

The king looked to Rick whose white skin was covered in a film of sweat. The once robust and determined leader had dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were beginning to sink in under the bone. Dwight had the random thought that a mere leaf landing on his shoulder could tip him over, but when Rick spoke, it was as though someone were speaking for him. That everlasting fire inside of him was still there and it shone through/burned in his voice.

"We won't wait long, that much I can promise you. But what we do next has to count as more than just a second strike – it's gotta be the last one." Rick paused, watching all the people who socialized and those who couldn't; their weapons close at hand and a nervous sliver of expectancy in their gaze. "We all had a lot of good ideas this mornin'. Once we got Negan or he's dead-"

"There won't be any gettin'," Maggie butted in with a glare. "He died the night he murdered my husband, and luckily for him I've already got 'im a marked grave."

"It's a shitting hole in the woods some vagabonds made use out of. I found it," Jesus clarified.

Tara sputtered out a laugh but quickly pressed her lips together and apologized.

"Whatever the case," Rick continued, "whenever we have Negan taken care of, we'll take on survivors and offer them immunity. We're not in this to send lambs to a slaughter; we just want our lives back the way they were. That's somethin' all of us need to remember."

"Well, if anything, whoever makes it out of that place in one piece could help us against Negan," Jesus said.

"How so?" Maggie asked, interested.

"I say we use our offer of immunity as a token for Negan's head." Jesus elaborated. "They help us get Negan – dead or alive – we won't kick their asses in. Seems like a fair trade."

"It won't be that easy." Dwight released a sarcastic scoff. "No one is just gonna waltz out of there ready to give up dirt. There are more enemies in that place than there are innocents, and there's no way in hell they'll let them out. And let's say per chance one of them does get out-" he shrugged "-they'll be dead before they reach that fence."

"So, what's your suggestion then?" Jesus crossed his arms with a raised brow. Dwight smirked.

"I'm not saying yours in bad, just that we need a backup in case that one doesn't work out."

"Precisely," King Ezekiel agreed. "Our actions need to be concrete. You can't roll the boulder before it is formed, can you?"

Tara scrunched her face as she considered the meaning of his comment, but Dwight understood the king's point.

"Basically what I'm sayin' is we blow shit up. We hit the lower east side of the building which will be opposite of where my men-" and Sherry, he thought, "-will come out. We'll have attracted most of the walkers to that region by that point, making their getaway smoother and obliterating the dead masses while exposing Negan's vulnerabilities at the same time."

"And what about Sasha and Eugene?" Maggie walked up to stand in front of the half-scarred man. "What about them?"

"We waited, didn't we?" Dwight paused as he thought of his next words and how carefully he should phrase them. "Whether they're alive or dead doesn't matter at this point."

"Excuse me?" Tara's loud outburst broke his concentration briefly, but he was right back in it in a second.

"It doesn't matter." He looked pointedly at Tara and then back at Maggie. "They'll find their way out if they're alive. If they don't, then they don't. We can't hold everything in suspension because of someone else's shitty actions. Sasha knew our plan and she knew what she was doing."

The whip of Maggie's hand across his ruined cheek stung. His eyes closed automatically when he saw her swinging toward him, but he didn't move back and he didn't flinch. He let her express her opposition and choked back the anger it stirred in him.

"You won't be a part of this." She was teeming with rage, shaking with it. "I will put you in the ground before I let you kill anyone else I love!"

"Maggie," Jesus tried to soothe, reaching out to her.

"No!" She spun around, incredulous. "Have you guys already forgotten or are you all turning a blind eye? He," she jabbed a finger behind her in Dwight's face, "is just as responsible for all of this as Negan! He helped kill Glenn, Abraham! And then he kidnapped our friends, beat them, tortured them-"

"He's helped us get them back," Rick calmly cut in. "He's risked his life to get us this far. Dwight isn't our enemy right now, and if you have a problem with him, deal with it after we're done with this. Until then, use that fire for the person more deservin'. Not the one who's been helpin' us."

Maggie stared at Rick for a tense moment, clearly wanting to argue further but unable to find reason to. Her shoulders slumped as she stepped back from Dwight and her mouth formed a thin line. Rick waited a minute before he continued.

"This is hard. I know it is, but we're nearly through with this thing. They're surrounded right now. They aren't goin' anywhere any time soon. Not with who's at their front door. The only way they'll get out of there is with our help and if they accept, they'll live. If they don't…" Rick shrugged. "That's their choice. We do what's best for us," he looked at Maggie, "as a group. We're all in this together and we've got to end it that way."

"I agree," Jesus replied instantly. "We can't keep dragging this out. We either go in there and end it or wait for the Saviors to win a chance at getting us back. I say we don't give them that."

"We all speak truths. The matter is which one holds more weight. To end the war we must fight the battle," King Ezekiel said as he put a heavy hand on Maggie's shoulder who looked away. "To win the battle is to lose those we care about. It's a law of order as is the sun rising in the east. It cannot be helped. What we must cling to is courage; use it. It'll be our guiding sword when we find ourselves lost."

"Does everyone agree then?" Rick asked the group and he heard yeses all around except for one. "Maggie?"

Green eyes met blue, both strong but broken. She wanted to save Sasha and Eugene and she was starting to realize that maybe this would be her only way. "Yes."

"We need to act now." Dwight couldn't wait. He wanted to hit the Sanctuary as soon as possible. "Everything's geared up. All that's left is us following through."

"We understand," Rick said, "but let's get things in order before we rush in there. As much as you said you wanted to do this right, that won't be the way to go."

Goddammit, Dwight cursed mentally, but Rick was right.

"Fine." His reluctance was thinly veiled. "But if shit turns sideways, I'm going in full force with or without you."

He glanced at Maggie briefly who glared slightly in his direction before looking away.

"Hey!" Aaron suddenly yelled from the watch post. "We have some visitors…! Who are you?"

The group exchanged fearful glances before rushing to the gate. They heard a woman's voice, smooth and clear.

"We don't mean any harm," she announced. "I'm here to see Rick Grimes."

"Who are you?" Rick repeated as he and the others pushed past the vehicles blocking Alexandria's entrance. They stopped as Tara gasped.

"My name is Merrit," she said with an army of women both young and older at her back. "And we're here to help."

"You got any sevens?" Vic asked, analyzing the cards in his hands. Thomas smirked.

"Go fish, numb nuts."

"Dammit," Vic swore and begrudgingly took a card from the pile.

As Vic fiddle with his hand, Thomas looked at the factory below, scrutinizing the crowd. Biters still covered the place, both inside and outside of the gates. He didn't like seeing them there. The Sanctuary had been his home for nearly four seasons and there were people in there he liked, cared about even. He didn't much like Negan, not hardly at all, but watching the place that had given him shelter and a new life nearly destroyed was harder than he thought.

This is for the best, though, he told himself. We aren't here to kill all of them. Just one.

That thought eased the ache in his chest a bit, and he looked back to his cards, adjusting his leg against the hard tailgate of the truck.

"Got any kings?" He inquired to Vic and his companion's face turned red as he yanked a card from his hand and threw it down.

"Eat shit, T."

Thomas laughed. "It's just a game, man. Chill." He looked at his cards, laying down his matching kings. "Hey, would you pass me a cola?"

He waited, organizing his cards before looking up. Vic was staring down at the Sanctuary, mouth agape and eyebrows so low that a flutter of anxiety went through Thomas. In a hurry, he gazed down at the factory grounds once more.

"What?" His voice was anxious.

"By the west side doors."

Thomas followed Vic's answer and saw what he meant. A small group of walkers were getting inside, trying to force their way in while being pushed back, but some were also…being dragged inside? He squinted, trying to see more clearly and no doubt looking just as dumb as Vic when he remembered the binoculars. He grabbed them from his side, magnifying his view as he jumped from the tailgate and took a few steps forward. His stomach dropped.

"Oh, shit."

"What's happening?" Vic asked as he came up behind him. "Give me the binoculars."

Vic reached out, trying to grab them away from Thomas' face, but Thomas elbowed him away.

"Radio Dwight now! Tell him that they are bringing in walkers, a bunch of them."

"For real? Shit!"

Thomas heard Vic scramble back to the truck as he continued to watch the Saviors corral the dead inside. This couldn't be good. It would be different if they were killing the horde small groups at a time, or just fighting through them, but they were actively trying to keep them alive in their struggle. Why?

"Vic!" Thomas yelled, growing impatient at the silence behind him. The walkie was in the bed of the truck right where they'd been sitting and while Vic had his moments, he knew how to use the damn thing.

Thomas lowered the binoculars and looked back. Vic wasn't anywhere in sight and neither was the walkie, but his second of confusion instantly turned to disbelief as he felt something impale his neck. He choked, sputtering up blood as it flooded his mouth and down his throat. The binoculars dropped to the soft grass with a thump as his hands went up. He felt the blade, his skin on fire where it had entered from the right back side of his neck and out through the front. As he tried to walk to the tailgate of the truck, he realized someone still held the other end of the knife. His watering eyes turned to the corners, blood coating his front as he struggled to breathe, and if he could've taken a breath, he would have screamed.

Who held the blade was not a person; hadn't been for some time. Who held the blade was not natural, something everyone still alive feared and hid from. Who held the blade was already dead.

Edited by Nightperidot.

Long time, no see. This past month has not been pleasant, and I'll spare you the gross details, but I've been in physical misery for the better half of it. Got some new meds though, so let's see how this cocktail works out. Finger crossed they work. With summer here, I'm hoping for more time to write. My new goal is to complete this story by early July. Fingers also crossed that I meet it. SIGH.

Also, fuck if news about TWD isn't depressing. I won't say what's happening in case not everyone is up-to-date, but there's only one thing about the show that gives me hope and that's Norman Reedus. Maybe he'll finally get a romance? That might make me jealous, though, if I don't like the character. :X

Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this one and it's not too shitty. Sorry it's short.