"Heard the kid call you Striker." Daryl glanced over his shoulder to look at me. We were walking through the woods, hunting with hopes of catching a deer or at least something more than a squirrel. Uncle Hershel was against it seeing how my stitches are still quite fresh, but I needed space from people and it's been a while since I went hunting with my bow.

"What about it?"

"My brother, Merle, always talked 'bout this chick named Striker. Always talked shit 'bout her but also said that she's one tough lady and has respect for her." He chuckled. "Never woulda thought he would have respect for anybody. Also said how she had a mean snake tattooed on her hand."

I glanced down at my right arm. My hand loosely held onto the arrow and bow sting, and it looked like the snake was eating it. "Yeah, that would be me."

"How come you never said anythin' 'bout knowin' my brother?"

"I dunno. Never came up, I guess. Does he really blabber on 'bout me like that?"

He scoffed, "Can hardly keep his mouth shut. Had a feelin' you were who he was blabbin' 'bout when you told me you used to fight, but after hearin' the kid..."

"Yeah, Carl asked if he could call me that and I told him he could. He was happy 'bout that. And Merle..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say about him. "Merle's a Grade A asshole, but I sure as hell wouldn't mind havin' another drink with him."

I saw movement from the corner of my eye causing me to spin around and draw my bow. The knuckle of my thumb rested on my cheek bone. I moved the tip of the arrow with the slight movements until it poked its little head out. The arrow flew through the air and through the neck of a turkey. It flounced around, trying to run away from danger, but one bolt from Daryl's crossbow made the final killing shot.

Daryl was the first one to reach the turkey and picked it up by its feet. It was easy to pull the bolt out from the body but I decided to leave my arrow in its neck until we got to plucking it.

The conversation from before was forgotten until we started making our way back to the farm. Besides the turkey, Daryl had shot an owl, and we both got a few squirrels each. It was more than enough for everybody back home and for us to smoke some for storage.

"Ya know," I held a branch out to the side for Daryl to pass through with most of what we hunted. He lost the tense game of rock-paper-scissors. "Merle talked about you quite a bit."

"He did?" Daryl had a look of surprise on his face.

I nodded. "Granted he called you Darylina, but yeah, he did. Touted 'bout how his 'baby brotha was a whiz kid with bikes'." I did a piss poor impression of the eldest Dixon, but the small smile on Daryl's face filled me with joy. "And 'he can shoot a coin from 'tween a hooker's ass with that crossbow o' his.'"

"He really said that?"

"Yup. He was as drunk as a skunk and probably as high as a kite. 'Least I now know the one about the coin is true."

Daryl shifted his crossbow in his arms as he looked away from me. If I looked hard enough, I could see the tips of his ears being red.

"Hopefully soon I'll be able to see how skilled your hands are."

His head whipped around, eyes as wide as a deer's. "What?"

After taking in his startled expression and tense body, it clicked. "Oh! I-I meant with a motorcycle! You're a great shot, like Merle said and you bein'- With the bike... Ya know..." I honestly wouldn't be mad if Daryl shoved a squirrel in my mouth to shut me up. "The uh, farm..."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat before speeding off in front of me. I followed close enough behind him to keep him within my sights, but far away enough for me to not embarrass myself anymore. First it was me getting drunk, then it was me stumbling over my words, then ogling his arms in the shed, now it's this shit.

Merle's right. I am a goddamn mess.

I left Daryl by his tent next to the old fireplace with my bow and all of my arrows, including the one that was stuck in the turkey's neck. He dangled the turkey's head in front of me using the arrow as a handle until I knocked it out his hand and shoved the head into his shirt. He wasn't happy with me to say the least, but it sure as hell was funny.

As I was walking back to the house, Dale came rushing up to me. "Vesper. Vesper, hold on."

I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at the old man. "What's it, Dale?"

"It's about Randall." He adjusted the rifle strap on his shoulder.

"What about him?"

"Rick is wanting to kill Randall. Now I'm not sure what went on in that shed when you and Daryl went in there, but it wasn't right. Torturing people isn't right."

"Him and his people torture people. He wouldn't talk and the only way we found that out was by makin' him talk. I got a lot of blood on my hands, what's some more?"

"What's some more?" He sputtered. Dale's bushy eyebrows shot up underneath his hat in shock. "Do you hear yourself?"

"Oh, I'm hearin' myself pretty damn well." I cocked my hip out and rested my free hand on it. "Are you comin' to me to try to change Daryl's mind so that he can change Rick's? I mean, that's the only reason I can think of why you're comin' to me of all people."

"Vesper... This is an execution we're talking about. You seriously can't think that this is the way to deal with Randall."

"I met his brother before, Warren was his name. He said some things that I won't repeat for your sake, but I do think it's real convenient that Randall's brother is exactly like the group he's with now. Between me and you, I suck at math, but one thing I always get right is that one plus one equals two. People flock to what they know and are comfortable with." With that I turned on my heels and walked away.

I kicked off my boots the moment I got in the house and moved my way into Maggie's room. A smile grew on my face when I saw her sitting on her bed reading a book. I knocked on her doorframe and made myself comfortable by her legs.

"Hey, Miss Mags."

"Well isn't somebody in a good mood." She laughed and shut her book. "Would it have something to do with a particular hunter?"

"Maybe... But that's not why I'm here. It is but it isn't, actually."

"Go on, then."

"First, it's a long-shot, but do you happen to remember our little 'time capsule' in the attic?"

Maggie leaned forward in her seat with a questioning look. "Yeah, why?"

"Do you wanna go down memory lane with me later? I think I got a bottle of rum in there next to our yearbooks."

"If only we get to look at yours first so that I can poke fun at that black eye you had."

I lightly shoved her shoulder. "Oh come on! You've been poking fun since that picture was taken!"

"It's still funny, though! Dad was so pissed at you!" Maggie's face lit up as she laughed. It's been a while since I've seen her so jovial, it was almost soothing to see her that way now. When our laughs died down, she said, "We can do it after that meeting tonight. You know I'm not one for drinkin' but I wouldn't mind having a few sips after this shit show."

Multiple voices from downstairs could be heard from Maggie's room. "Sounds like it's about to start." I sighed, "Should I bring up some cups or are we gonna be taking it by the head?"

"Bring up some cups so that we can say that we tried to not get too drunk." Maggie slid off her bed and dragged me along behind her. We walked down the stairs and as she sat next to her father on the sofa in the living room, I leaned against another sofa that was behind Daryl. I was able to hear and see everyone, including the smug look on my cousin's face as she looked between me and Daryl.

I flipped her off before watching Carl come into the house and storm off into another room. Daryl glanced over his at the kid before locking eyes with me. He gave me a small nod, turning his attention back towards the group.

"So how do we do this?" Rick asked the group. "Just take a vote?"

"Does it have to be unanimous?" Andrea stood by the fireplace with her arms crossed over her chest. She was on my shit list after what happened with Beth.

"Well, let's just see where everybody stands. Then we can talk through the options."

Shane hooked his thumbs over his belt, trying to look the part of the 'tough cop'. "The way I see it, there's only one way to move forward."

"Killing him, right?" Dale looked around at everybody. "I mean, why even bother to take a vote? It's clear which way the wind's blowing."

"Well, if people people believe we should spare him, I want to know." Rick replied.

"I can tell you it's a small group, maybe just me and Glenn."

Judging by Glenn's stillness and quietness, he didn't agree with Dale either. I get where the old man is coming from - killing people does pick away at whatever humanity is left in us, but at the same time, if it means protecting me and mine... To hell with everybody else.

Glenn slowly looked up at Dale. "Look, I think you're pretty much right about everything all the time, but this-"

"They've got you scared."

"He's not one of us. And we've- we've lost too many people already."

Dale turned his attention to Maggie. "How about you? Do you agree with this?"

Maggie stood next to Uncle Hershel in silence before turning her head towards Rick. "Couldn't we continue keepin' him prisoner?"

"Just another mouth to feed." Daryl responded in that gruff voice of his. I am bit upset that it's now getting cold enough for him to wear long sleeves under his vest, but he still looks good.

Damnit Maggie! Why did you have to make me so self aware of my thoughts about this handsome and sexy untouchable man?

"-Be an asset! Give him a chance to prove himself." Dale was now wringing his hat in his hands. I clearly missed something, but judging how they were still talking and not paying me any mind, it wasn't anything important.

My eyes darted around the room at each person that talked. Dale was still trying to defend a case that's clearly not getting anywhere. Even if we did decided to leave Randall alive and make him our prisoner, it'll only be a matter of time before something goes wrong. Something always goes wrong. That's one thing life taught me and Jax instilled.

I looked around at the ragtag group with a sigh. It's obvious that they're gonna kill Randall, but I might as well get one last answer from him. I silently slipped out of the house and put my boots on when I got outside. The drying grass crunched beneath my feet with every step I took.

The rafters of the shed were strong enough to hold my weight when I climbed up there after seeing that the door was locked. Randall was sitting on the floor, chained to the wall. It did pain me a bit, watching him let out quiet sobs. If only he chose to hole up with another group...

"I'm ninety-nine percent sure they're gonna kill you tonight." Randall's head snapped up to look at me. My feet dangled in the air as I sat on the edge of the little loft. "I'm leavin' that one percent for the benefit of the doubt."

"Why are you telling me this? Didn't you torture me enough with that fucking redneck, white trash?"

My teeth clenched together in anger. I pushed myself off the loft and landed on the ground with a heavy thud. Pain shot up my knees and radiated from my thigh. It probably wasn't the best idea to do that, but when have I ever made 'the best decisions'?

"I was tryin' to be nice by givin' you a heads up, Randy-Boy." I stalked towards him like a cat hunting a mouse. "Which would you prefer? Being hung or being shot?" Leaning in close to him, I placed the tip of my index and middle fingers between his eyes, like my hand was a gun. "I personally would rather get shot between the eyes." I bent my thumb and jerked my hand up, pretending that I shot him.

"What do you want from me?" His voice quivered in fear. Any more taunting and he might piss his pants. Is that something I should go for? Probably. He watched as his people humiliated and dehumanized girls and women for the sake of their own entertainment.

"I want a lot of things, Randall. But the one thing that I want the most right now, is for you to tell me why."

His breathing became faster and more frantic. "Why? Why what?"

"Why that group? You could've been on your own or with another group, why that one?"

"M-my-my brother was in that group and he took me with him. We did it to survive!"

I tsked at him. "Randall, Randall, Randall." Releasing a sigh, I stood up straight. "You sorry sack of shit."

"W-what?"

"You're gonna rot in the first ring of the seventh circle of hell."

"I'm not the only one going to hell, you know! You're going to be right there with me, rotting away into nothin-" His words were cut off by a swift punch to his mouth.

"Then save me a spot, dickhead."

The dark liquor burned down my throat as I chugged the half-full cup. It was the first pour of many and turns out, I had more than one bottle. Damn I am a genius!

Maggie poured more of the rum into both of our cups. Silence passed between us as we just sat in the dusty attic, reminiscing over the past. The opened yearbooks were strewn in front of us. At this point, I wasn't sure if I felt more dead at eighteen or now. One thing I do know for sure is that I'm in the same spot and doing the same thing, just six years apart.

Life's a bitch.

"Hey, Maggie." My tongue felt heavy in my mouth as I spoke. "How'd you know you like-liked Glenn?"

She twirled her coffee cup full of rum around of the flat lid of the small chest she leaned against. "I think it was when he saved me from that walker in the pharmacy. I already thought he was cute and he's a good kisser and he's really good at sex. Now he's growing a backbone which makes him more."

"More what?" I took a mouthful of rum and held it my mouth as I slowly drank it.

"I dunno, just more." Maggie looked at me and giggled. "You think you like-like Daryl?"

I sighed. "Maybe. There's jus' somethin' 'bout 'im, Mags." My words slurred together, the affects of the alcohol is taking hold like a pitbull with lockjaw. "He's him... Ya know. He makes me feel feelin's. He makes me feel content enough to feel 'em. And his arms? God, I just wanna squeeze 'em! And his hands..."

"Damn, Ves. Sounds like you're fallin' for him." She stumbled to her feet and drank what was left in her cup. "I say make a move, 'cause I see the way y'all look at each other and you can sometimes feel the tension. Anyway, I best get back down there. You wanna come with or are ya gonna stay up here?"

"You go on 'head, Mags." She snatched my cup and drank what was left in it before making her way back down to the others. I filled my cup up again and flipped open the lid to the trunk. I dug around a bit before I found what I was looking for. It was an old cigarette pack that was full of polaroid pictures.

I slid the stack into my hands and flipped through them. I could feel tears running down my face as I glanced down at the pictures. Familiar and unfamiliar faces started back at me, reminding me of a time when I felt more in control.

Maggie, Beth, Shawn, Aunt Josephine, Aunt Annette, Uncle Hershel, Otis, Patricia, Jax, even Ol' Merle. I chuckled at the times Merle took the camera from me and took pictures for himself of random bar sleezes for him to jerk off to later.

My brows furrowed a bit when I came across a few pictures I don't remember taking. The first one was with Merle taking a selfie with his flavor of the night and a certain redneck was behind him, scowling into his beer. The next one was of Daryl scowling, mid-verbal attack at Merle; his lip was curled up but his azure eyes didn't hold any of the hostility the rest of his face had. The third one was of Daryl fixing a motorcycle and Merle's big hand was in the middle, flipping of the youngest Dixon. The forth and last one was of Merle with his arm hanging over Daryl's shoulders, and Daryl actually had a small smile on his face with a beer bottle up to his lips.

A gunshot echoed through the night air, signaling that somebody had died. Whether it was Randall or somebody else, I knew that in the morning when I climb my hungover ass down the ladder, there would be one less person to look after.