Newly Revised
Ani leaned heavily against Daryl, one hand entwined with his as he kept it rested on her stomach while they watched the walkers surrounding the Sanctuary. She was stiff, being in such close proximity to the building where so much and so little happened all at once; so little to her, so much to Daryl, and then more than she ever wanted right at the end. This was the right play, though, as they stood, talking to Beth and Michonne about what the next move was and what they needed to do. Tara was looking through the scope, handing it over to Ani, who took her turn with it before she handed it back to Daryl and he stepped away. There was too much riding on too many uncertainties and the trio simply did not want to wait for those uncertainties to turn for the worse. Ani made it a point to mention that Eugene was still inside and had no intention of coming back to Alexandria now that he'd become Negan. He knew how to make bullets, he knew enough about technical support that he could easily build something to draw the walkers away on top of knowing how to make bullets. What if he gave the go ahead to Negan to cut through the walkers because they could replenish their stores? What if they were just waiting for the right moment to make them think that the Saviors had surrendered when they were really biding time to lure the walkers away? They'd already had one back up plan for if a herd needed to be redirected; what if they had another cache and another truck of speakers? They didn't have time to wait for the possibility of things to wrong if they had a chance to make sure things went right.
"Our people are gonna be at the Sanctuary soon, asking for their surrender," Beth reasoned.
"That's why we do it," Daryl countered. "We make it happen."
"So, we cover you with crossfire from the upper windows, you crash the truck into the walkers and through to the building," Michonne clarified.
"Yep. Crack it open. Savior buffet," Tara told them.
"Make 'em eat through whateva cache a bullets they got ta keep the walkas from gettin' up the stairs. Can' replenish bullets if they're stuck inside without 'nough left ta get out. Do that, make it ta where they got nah choice but ta surrenda," Ani said with a tilt of her head. "End a the day, this whole thing'll be jus' a bad fuckin' dream."
"You said there were workers, families? Do you know for sure they'll be safe?" Beth asked. "I mean, I want this done as much as y'all do, but isn't it too risky?"
"The workers are on the other side of the building. They should make it up the stairs," Daryl assured her even though they all knew there was doubt in his words.
"You sure?"
"They'll got ta give up if we do this, Beth. I get it ain' ya cup a tea, but dammit, the fasta we get this done, the fasta Maggie can relax! Fasta she gets 'er justice for Glenn! Fasta we can all get settled 'fore the babies get 'ere! We got ta get this shite on lock when we got the chance ta make it be on lock, ratha than waitin' for shite ta go wrong."
"Once we do this, their only choice is to give up," Daryl reasoned.
"It's risky, like she said," Michonne replied. "They could see the truck comin'."
"There weren't any more weapons at the Savior's cache, right?" Tara asked. "No more rockets for the RPGs. We work with what we've got."
"You've got me," Morgan said as he came up from their blind spot, though Beth could've given fair warning of his presence as Ani whipped around with her gun in one hand, a throwing knife in the other. "Other snipers, too. If the Saviors see you comin', we've got you covered, whatever it takes. I want it done. I want them done."
"We all do," Ani told him.
"So we doin' this or what?" Daryl asked.
"If Rick's plan is workin', why aren't we just waitin' for everyone else?" Beth asked. "I mean, I wanted to see it. I wanted to make sure it was all goin' right. After Rosita...I had to make sure. But this? The plan's workin', right? Doin' this doesn't change anythin' in the long run."
"It forces their hand," Tara told her.
"But what if things go bad?"
"The truck with the speakers almost took all those walkers away," Tara countered. "It almost did go bad. Something else could."
"Even if it don't, we don't got the Kingdom fighters no more," Daryl pointed out. "I mean, if the Saviors want to put up a fight, we don't got the numbers to make 'em surrender."
"That's why Rick went to talk to the Scavengers, isn't it?"
"Right, 'cause the cowards who ran as soon as shite hit the fan are really goin' ta be oh so helpful," Ani scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "Face it, when it comes ta those people, ya talking ta wet noodles. They ain' got the spine for this."
"She's right," Tara told her, sounding incredulous. "You got shot! They turned on us! What? You-you believe them now?"
"I believe in Rick and Ani."
"Then believe me when I say this is somethin' worth doin'," Ani told her.
"You helped Rick come up with the original plan," Beth debated. "You, Abe, and Merle. Where's Merle now? He's not here, which means he doesn't agree either."
"Merle ain't thinkin' straight," Daryl told her.
"And the two of you are?"
"I could've done something," Tara told her, stalking up closer in her anger at the girl's arguments. "To end this sooner. I knew about those weapons at Oceanside, and I waited. I didn't do shit about it. With or without you, I'm not letting that happen again."
"Look, I want to be supportive. I came out here wanting to make sure things went our way. But seeing the Sanctuary...we don't know if doin' this will change how things go. I...After Rosita, I can't. I'm not goin' off script," Beth said, shaking her head. "I hope everythin' goes your way. I really do. But I've already lost enough people I care about doin' somethin' I shouldn't've. I can't do that again," she told them sadly before she began walking away.
"We got some cars parked near the east-side lookout," Morgan told her as she passed by him. "You can take one and go home."
"Are you stayin'?" Beth asked Michonne. "Are you really okay with all this?"
"I helped get this started," Michonne stated. "I gotta see it through."
"I used to think waitin' was a waste a time, you know?" Beth said, impressing Ani with her wisdom. "I used to think it was easier to do somethin', anythin', rather than waitin' around for things to happen to me. But then I went with Rosita. Watchin' her come out of that coffin...Sometimes...sometimes we just don't get to know what's gonna happen, what could happen, what has happened. Sometimes all we get to do is wait. I'm always gonna regret not talkin' Rosita out of goin' when we went to the Sanctuary. I hope none of y'all regret this."
"Come on," Daryl said, a hand at the small of Ani's back to lead her back to the truck as she watched Beth's retreating form. "Let's go."
Climbing in before Daryl, Ani watched as Michonne climbed in from the other side with a pensive look on her face. Ani could understand it because she was pretty sure she was feeling something similar. Beth was right. Sometimes the unknown wasn't guaranteed, and between what they were planning and the plan they already had in place, whichever one they took, there was no realguarantee of surrender. Only hope and speculation from either side that the plan they believed in would work. In the end, no one would ever know whether or not either plan worked or failed because there were too many variables. Ani began to get a headache as her mind attempted to come up with every possible scenario that could happen revolving around both choices they could make. She had to physically and mentally force herself to think about anything else, that something else becoming the fact that her husband was about to willingly throw himself out of a fast-moving garbage truck extremely close to a horde of hungry walkers. As he pulled the truck to a stop, Ani couldn't help but look over to Daryl as her knee started bouncing. He must have noticed it, since he covered it with a hand before looking over at her.
"We'll be okay, Ania," he assured her.
"I know. Don' stop me from worryin' any, though."
"Hey, cut that engine," Morgan's voice came over the walkie. "Any closer, you'll draw walkers from the yard."
Ani put her hand on Daryl's and squeezed before leaning to rest her head on his shoulder for a second as he slowed and brought the truck to a stop, cutting the engine. He looked at her before they both turned to look at Michonne and Tara. Michonne still looked like she was trying to figure things out, her expression almost pained as she stared out at the walkers in front of them. Daryl double-checked the area with the scope, handing it over to Ani, who handed it to Tara, all of them noticing Michonne's reluctance.
"You take fire from the windows, we fire back," Morgan informed them.
"Come on," Tara told Ani and Michonne. "There's a spot for cover by the chutes."
When she climbed out but Michonne didn't, Daryl turned to her and asked, "You up for this?"
"I came here 'cause I wanted to see things for myself," she told them. "I wanted to know that things were going to work. But you know what? I don't get to know that. None of us do," she stated, echoing Ani's own thoughts. "What I do know is that things are working now. So maybe...we just need to trust that things are going to keep working...because this...what we're about to do? It's not worth risking us."
"Maybe not for ya," Ani said quietly, her hand going to Daryl's leg as she looked straight ahead with a blank face.
"It is for us," Daryl agreed, squeezing her hand as he did the same. "It just is."
"Why?" Michonne asked. "Why are you so sure this has to happen?"
It was Daryl and Ani's turn to fall silent, Daryl thinking about what they'd had to endure and Ani recalling the 'fight' with her father. Michonne must have sensed that they had their own reasons but couldn't admit them
"I hope it works. I-I really, really do, but I-I can't do it. I just can't."
"Then you shouldn't," Daryl told her, Michonne simply nodding her head before climbing out.
Ani couldn't help it, then, looking to Daryl and asking, "Are we sure?"
"You really wanna risk them gettin' out? Them not surrenderin'?"
"I don' know, but I know I don' want ta risk ya gettin' hurt. I know I ain' riskin' ya, or Lou, or Phia, or Merle or Carl or Judith," she said, both of them snorting. "I don' want ta risk anythin' we ain' willin' ta risk. But...I got my doubts 'cause othas have doubts and made 'em known."
"Ain't no good second guessin' yourself now, baby girl. You're thinkin' too much."
"Yeah," she agreed. "My gut said it was the right play up until othas started questionin' it. Nah point in backin' out now," she said, looking at him and giving him a soft kiss. "I'll be with Tara. Rememba ta tuck and roll as ya jump. Let ya knees bend naturally and keep ya arms up ta protect ya head. I love ya."
"I know. Love you too."
Ani climbed out of the truck as Tara walked over to the driver's side, telling Daryl through the window, "We got Morgan and the snipers. We can do this."
"Damn straight," Ani offered.
"Yeah," Daryl said. "We will."
"D?" she said, looking up at Daryl.
"Hmm?"
"Don' get shot. Or bit."
"Mm-hmm. Right back at you," he told her.
"Give me ya pistol," Ani told Tara as they moved closer to the building while Daryl moved the truck to a better starting point.
"Why?"
"Time ta go Doc Holiday on this bitch."
"Seriously, are you into Westerns or something?" Tara asked, before holding up the walkie and telling the others, "Okay. We're here. We're ready."
"Nah, but I will admit that I saw this movie once 'bout Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday with my papa. Thought gunslingin' was really fuckin' cool," Ani laughed, holding a pistol in each hand after receiving Tara's; the woman had her own automatic while also carrying Daryl's on her shoulder.
"Ever try it?" Tara asked.
"Once. Damn near shot myself in the foot. Neva again, though I did learn how ta propaly handle a gun aftawards and how ta shoot two at once at two different targets, though that one wasn' 'til I was given a lesson by Jesse's sister's husband who was a Marine. Didn' learn that 'til I was eighteen and allowed ta legally conceal carry."
"Damn. How old were you when you nearly shot your foot?"
"Mmm...Think I was 'bout ten at the time."
"Thought you had an eidetic memory."
"Lots a people do, but that don' mean they rememba everythin' 'bout their lives. That's called having hyperthymesia, or a seriously superior autobiographical memory. I definitely don' have one a those," Ani countered. "Some things are fuzzia than othas. Kinda like recallin' the contents a a book but not bein' able ta recall all the words. Jus' the title and ovaview. I mean, even computas have—had—a limited capacity for memory."
"That actually makes a lot of sense. I mean, it explains how you know how to sew, but can't sew," Tara laughed as they watched Daryl pull into position, the snipers calling in to let everyone know that they were set as Ani looked at the truck in worry. "He'll be okay," Tara assured her. "We all will. And when this is over, we'll get justice for Denise."
"Ya mean vengeance. Ain' justice, just vengeance," Ani countered as they both readied their weapons.
On the count of three, they both rounded the corner as they heard the truck's engine gunning, firearms up and aimed where they needed to be. While Ani wasn't keen on being in the line of fire, there was plenty of cover for her to duck under as long as she didn't try to constantly fire at the Saviors. In fact, neither she nor Tara seemed to be the main focus as the snipers opened fire and seemed to be taking the brunt of the opposition's fire until the truck came into view. The pair kept firing while the truck sped around the corner they were using as cover, ducking and letting the snipers do their job every so often. Ani silently pleaded for Daryl to be safe on repeat in her head as she forced herself to keep her eyes on target rather than on the truck. She went low as Tara went high when they stepped out again so that she could keep an eye on the truck as Daryl bailed out of the truck and made a run for cover. She watched as he crouched behind a car in the immediate area while the walkers moved towards the truck and the hole it had made. She was beyond thankful that he was unharmed and the fall from the truck and had escaped the fire fight while still accomplishing their mission.
"Daryl, you're clear to the south," Morgan's voice rang out from her back pocket through the walkie. "You and the girls should get home."
They kept the way open for him, making sure he wasn't going to be fired at as he ran towards them, Ani jumping up grabbing at his arm as he grabbed at hers just to make sure the other was moving. The three of them ran all the way to the mechanic's shop Merle had brought them to once upon a time to grab the Saviors' car the man had left in there. Daryl drove with Ani in the passenger side and Tara in the back, all three of them enjoying the music the assholes had stashed in there. Ani's face had gone dark when she'd pulled out the stack and found three of hers and Daryl's CDs, the fact that she'd written their initials on each of them making it plain. It didn't last long, though, considering the fact that they had several other albums that she enjoyed, though she scrunched her nose at one of the country albums, making to throw it out the window until Daryl yanked it out of her hands. She pouted for a while at that, but then shoved one of the other disks into the stereo and she and Tara started having fun singing. Ani wasn't exactly thrilled with Tara's pitchiness and how often she went off key, but it was fun to sit in a car with a friend and goof off. Before they even made it all the way to the gate, it was being opened by a pissed off looking Merle and Sophia, Carl, the former two asking where the hell they'd been. They let the others there know that they'd managed to succeed in their little mission before they went to their one homes; Daryl and Merle sitting on the porch smoking while Ani sat curled up on Daryl's lap dozing.
~x~
Eugene stood in his room contemplating everything that had happened and how it was his responsibility to get the Sanctuary out of the calamity Rick and the other outposts had forced upon them. Already, the electricity was gone, the water was limited, and the food was being rationed at quarter sanctions. The way out would require a significant sacrifice one way or another, whether by way of flesh or way of steel and lead, neither of which were as easily replaceable as they might've once seemed. He'd been so terrified when he'd first arrived, but after being here for several days and proving his worth, Eugene was confident that he was helping these people. Ani had always told him he just needed to find his place in the group and, well by golly he had found his place with the Saviors. At the same time, he felt quite guilty for being so comfortable here and helping improve their defenses up until this point. Abraham, Rosita, Sasha, Ani, and Tara had all been very kind to him, understanding his quirks and deficiencies and doing their best to help him make it up. While Rosita's words were regularly hurtful and shattered his hopes that perhaps some day she might return his affections, he certainly hadn't wanted her to die for it; he didn't want any of the others to die.
If he did his job right, when all was said and done, he might have enough pull to grant them some leniency, certainly enough to do so for Ani even though she'd already scored a strike or two against Negan for her actions. However, many of the Saviors liked the little lady, and he still held onto that little totem she'd made him even now. If anyone had a chance at mercy, it was her, and doing a good enough job at settling this affair with the walkers gave him a chance to give her and hers a one up as well as the others. He was in a predicament, that much he knew as he sat in his chair and started writing in his notebook. Creating three columns, he separated them into things he knew, things he didn't, and things he hadn't yet thought of and what Dwight had said. He might not be a real doctor or a psychologist, but he was observant, and he squirmed in his shoes enough times to recognize a worm trying to play a bird. Giving up on his list, he walked straight over to Dwight's room, knocking on the door and waiting for entry. As soon as the door opened, he walked in, not noticing how Dwight looked around to make sure no one else was in the corridor.
"I'm well aware you're the fifth columner," Eugene told him as he stared down at the chess set that had given him his first clue as to who the traitor might be. "Green duffel, red paint, workers' guns. It doesn't require a Turning-grade decryption to grok the truth that you're the traitor creeping and colluding with AHK. It's an acronym I've concocted—Alexandria, Hilltop, Kingdom. I considered goin' with KAH but it remains a hair too onomatopoeic. I've been charged by no less than Negan himself with crackin' the very calamity you more than likely had a heavy hand in creatin'. So I need you to cease and desist all betrayals and back-stabbery, frontin', and Judas-ness ASAP. In exchange, I offer to keep what I know from Negan and the others."
Dwight walked up to him really slow then, surprising him by grabbing him by the lapels and pushing him backwards. While he wasn't necessarily scared, he was still relatively reluctant to fight an opponent that was not of the deceased variety, and even then, he'd rather remain safe behind these walls than try to fight the dead. He'd been there and done that once already and had tried to be a man like Abraham only to have gotten shot the first time and then beaten the second. He was done with any and all forms of chivalry and courageousness that required him to put himself openly as a target rather than hiding behind some form of defense. Even now, he knew Dwight could beat him black and blue if he wanted to and Eugene wouldn't be able to put up more of a fight than whimpering in a huddle on the floor. The man pushed him roughly into his armchair and grabbed the footstool to sit on it facing him with a look on his face that essentially told him he was going to listen whether he liked it or not.
"The Saviors are finished. Negan's finished," Dwight said. "This place...what it's been...that's all over. Food and water's runnin' low, the workers are angry, the Saviors, they're gettin' scared. And this place is gonna fall, and all you have to do to be on the winnin' side is to stand down. All you have to do is nothing. Wait. Let it play out. Can you do that?" Eugene thought about his request, considering it as a part of what he was already thinking, when Dwight continued to reason, "You've seen what happens here...heard the screams...smelled the burning skin," he told him, getting up into his face with the burned side plain to see. "You don't got blood on your hands yet, but that's comin'. Once you do those things, you become those things, and there's no goin' back. No forgettin' it."
"What cranks my shaft is bein' safe," Eugene countered. "And me bein' safe means a whole lot of other people are safe. I think about that a great deal," he told him as he stood from his chair. "Yes, I'm Negan...and it ain't perfect, but we are Saviors. We save. Like I said...your cloak and dagger is on the QT. All I ask is that you don't do anythin' that would cause harm to anyone inside these walls, and it'll stay that way."
He walked out then, not bothering to look back as he wandered the halls because he couldn't believe what Dwight had said, that the Saviors were at an end. Perhaps that was the endgame, but the Saviors were actually quite a thriving community, even if he had really been frightened of the people at first. He had been expecting mistreatment in the ways that Ani and Daryl had described, expected torture and punishment, but what he received was belief, support, praise, and a place of standing within the community. While many luxuries cost points, everyone did get at least a shower a week, fresh changes of clothing every couple days, and at least one healthy meal a day. That was everything anyone really needed in this kind of society, that and a place to sleep without having to worry about walkers up until this point. Everyone within these walls had been healthy, relatively happy, if you took out the hair-trigger that caused the Saviors to react violently anyway, and most importantly they were safe. Thanks to Rick and the others, their safety was now compromised as he watched Arat and another Savior set up a blockade of the door. He walked up to it as she stood staring and the other Savior walked away, seeing as she had been the first real Savior he'd met, the first to make an impression of the place. She'd shown him to a room that had apparently been Ani's before they'd left, told him about the library, given him a jar of pickles, and shown him exactly what it meant to be a Savior rather than a worker when it came to gains and losses. He had all the gains and none of the losses of being a worker by kowtowing to Negan's will and, so long as he could get them out of their current conundrum of the dead and dwindling supplies, he would have even more gains to be made. Walking up to stand next to Arat, they shared a quiet moment just watching the hands banging on the door before he turned his face towards her.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"A day," she responded. "Maybe two," she stated before leaving him there to stare out at the walkers for a few minutes before he headed back to his room.
"Eugene," Carson called as he came out of the infirmary. "I could use a little help. Can you come in? He's getting worse," Carson informed him when he entered. "It's an infection. Maybe more than one. It's attacking his organs. It's only a matter of time before one of them fails. Just wish we had some damn meds."
"Mm, I wish he hadn't assisted in the ill-conceived caper to trap us in here," Eugene countered. "I also wish for Razzles, but if wishes were horses and all that..."
"What, you think this is his fault?"
"It is," he confirmed. "Not the whole of it, but he was a member of the campaign. I do get it...but I shan't forget it."
Carson just sighed before tapping Eugene on the shoulder and making to leave, "Will you sit with him?"
"How's that?"
"I'm gonna head to the marketplace, see if they have some herbs down there, try some Eastern medicine/apothecary on him. I don't know as much as Ani, but I remember some of what she had us doing at the Hilltop. Maybe we can at least slow the symptoms down long enough to keep him alive. He shouldn't be alone just in case. And he's your friend."
"Travelin' companion," Eugene quickly corrected.
"Okay, do you want him to die?"
"No."
"I'll be back soon," Carson told him before leaving the room and closing the door.
Eugene wasn't too thrilled about being left in the room with a semi-catatonic, potentially contagious, highly ill person, especially one that could die at any minute. It was one thing to be surrounded by walkers outside of his current dwellings when he was inside strong walls like he was now. It was another entirely different thing to be stuck in a room with a man who had yet to die and turn, but such a thing was in fact going to happen sooner or later. Gabriel started coughing while Eugene's eyes turned from looking at the door in fear to looking over at the sick man in fear, anger, and guilt. He was afraid because of the condition he was in and how close to death's door he possibly was. He was angry that the man had decided to fight and help in the current debacle the home he had been given was in. Eugene was mostly guilty, though, because he knew that a part of the reason the others were fighting so hard was because he, himself, had been thrown into fray when Negan had abducted him. He hadn't asked for them to fight for him, though, and he hadn't asked for them to try to rescue him either. It wasn't his fault that Rosita had died and it wasn't his fault that Gabriel was in such a sorry state of health. There were a lot of things he wasn't at fault for, and yet he still felt guiltier than hell in a handbasket for being a part of the reason what Rick and the others were doing.
"Sit," Gabriel told him after his coughing fit and groaning. "You look worse than me."
"I don't appreciate that," Eugene let him know. "Because you look like a potato and shit casserole."
"Still, sit," Gabriel repeated.
Grabbing a chair, he brought it over to sit right next to the bed and watched as Gabriel began reaching for the water cup. His face was blank of any expression other than boredom although he did feel guilty for jumping ship so quickly, but what was he supposed to do? Here, he wasn't expected to fight like he was in Alexandria, wasn't expected to be somebody else, someone strong or talented or capable of fighting. Of course if push came to shove he would fight, but why fight if others could do the fighting for him while he stayed safe and sound out of the line of fire? What was the point in sticking his neck out for others when it could get him killed instead of keeping him alive? He was his number one priority, and that was all there was to it; all he had the luxury to care about was keep his blood pumping through his veins and his cognitive functions fully intact. With these thoughts in his head, he couldn't help but roll his eyes at Gabriel's struggles, reaching out and lifting the glass and bringing it to the sick man's lips. He was only able to get one or two swallows before Eugene ripped it away and put it back, Gabriel going into another coughing fit. His expression remained stoic as he moved to his original position and waited for Gabriel's coughing fit to subside, thoroughly intending to remain quiet the entire time, although the sick man had other ideas.
"Are you gonna help me get Dr. Carson out of here?" Gabriel asked.
"Given that this buildin' is currently surrounded by a Wilkes-Barre of walkers, I don't see an escape attempt without puttin' to use the same flawed technique of innards which landed you in your status-quo piss-poor condition," Eugene rebutted, causing Gabriel to look at him. "What you may have forgotten in your request is that I am a small person who does not stick his neck out for anyone but himself. I stay firmly in that lane without any need for a signal, hand or automatic."
"You did once," Gabriel reminded him. "For Ani. For Maggie. All I want is for you to do the right thing."
"And what is said definition of that?" Eugene asked. "Can't say I ever sussed it out. And the whole, feels right/feels wrong thing, well, I never sussed that out either. Right for some can be downright horrific for others and knowin' that has kept me vertical when so many have gone horizontal."
"It requires faith, trusting yourself," Gabriel countered. "Believing that God is inside of you...guiding you...and knowing that he has a plan for all of us. Is that so hard?"
"It's absurd," Eugene stated bluntly.
"Is it? You're a man of science...who not too long ago would've found it impossible to believe that the dead could walk," Gabriel tried to reason, sitting up as much as he could and grabbing Eugene's hand and holding it as he spoke again. "So maybe it's not impossible to believe that you will know what the right thing is when the time comes. And then...you'll...you will act."
Gabriel passed out after that, leaning back with a moan as he was overcome by a spasm of pain as Eugene watched. He looked at his hand in horror, both at the fact that Gabriel had who knew what kind of infection let alone how it could be transferred and also that not only was Gabriel certain this was the right route, but so was Dwight. That red dot from the wet paint from Dwight's chess board was still staining his thumb, a stark reminder that even those within these walls were sick of Negan's rule. It really wasn't a perfect situation and there were a lot of kinks in the gears, but what was perfect in this day and age? Rick and Ani made it seem like they had everything on lock and yet the predicament the Saviors and Sanctuary were currently in was enough to make him realize that was nothing more than a false pretense. They did not, in fact, have anything on lock yet did, in fact, get several of their people killed by not heeding Negan's warning that first night at the clearing. Whatever was right or wrong, Negan wasn't the one who was acting against the best interests of the innocent people of the Sanctuary let alone the outposts. Negan wasn't the one who was going to get a lot of people and as soon as Carson came back, he left the preacher's side and returned to his abode. Eugene sat in his chair staring blankly, thinking about everything he now knew, what Gabriel wanted of him, what he thought was right, until a knock on the door forced him to move again. Whatever choice he made, whether for or against the request that had been made of him, it was something he had to think about later as he went to open the door.
"Tanya. Hello."
"You said a week," she told him, not even waiting or bothering to let him speak further as she entered the room with a bottle of wine in her hands. "It's been a week. Our deal? My boombox?" she reminded as he stared at her dumbfounded.
"Well, yes. I mean-"
"Did you fix it?"
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah," she said incredulously.
"Well, it's not ready," Eugene informed her, looking at her bewildered by her utter selfishness in the face of impending doom. "Our neck is in the noose of the deceased, and it gets tighter with every tick-tock. Are you not distressed that we're trapped?"
"I was already trapped here," she stated plainly. "You've got until tomorrow, Eugene, then we renegotiate."
"Wait," he called out as she went to leave his room. When she paused by the cracked door, he asked, "Would it be possible to take possession of the second bottle despite the delivery delinquency?"
"The deal was one bottle up front and one bottle after you fix it."
"I need it," he insisted.
"You making it into jet fuel or something?" she asked after a moment of contemplation.
"I've taken to throwing one point five ounces down my gullet most P.M.s as a necessary requirement for catching some increasingly elusive Z's. Ergo, I need the giggle juice."
He heard the door close before he looked over to see Tanya taking a few steps away from the door, "I get it. I need help sleeping, too."
"I don't get it."
"Yes, you do," Tanya denied. "You help them. You help him. I tried to stop this. Me and Frankie, we came to you, and we asked you for your help. You could've changed this place into something else, something better. But you took care of you, and now you've got to live with that," she told him, thrusting the bottle of wine into his hands. "I hope this helps. But it won't," she told him, opening the door to show Laura, another of the few Savior women he'd met in his time here, but stayed closer to Negan, had shown up just as Tanya left.
"Negan wants you," she told him sternly.
Leaving his room again, he followed Arat up the stairs and to the meeting room where they had been when Rick had given his ultimatum. And there Negan sat at the head of the table, Lucille over his shoulder, and a sour look on his face. Eugene knew full well that his own head was on the chopping block to ensure the good people in the Sanctuary made it out a-okay. He knew full well that without an answer to their impending doom, he would be the first to go in some twisted kindness of an act brought on by Negan himself. He supposed it was, in fact, a kindness to be dead rather than witness the horrors the dead could bring to the living. He thought about all of that as he pulled out a chair and sat at the table, making sure to leave an empty seat between him and Negan and keep his eyes on the man in the hopes that he would continue to be seen as open and honest. All he could do was attempt to hide the truth that he knew for a fact that Dwight, one of Negan's most trusted men, was, in fact, convoluting with the enemy in order to dethrone Negan from atop his pillar of martyrdom.
Negan didn't even fully look up, simply looking at the table in front of him as he said in a monotoned, bored voice, "If things don't get fixed soon, a lot of people are gonna die. My people. Not me, of course. I'm livin' no matter what. I am too good at this shit. But others? I can't have that. I don't want to see people get shot up or chewed up or chewin' up the rest. I don't want to see you get eaten, Eugene. This place, it's about pooling and organizing strength," Negan said. "And you, my friend, are strong. That spongy organ between your eyes and your spectacular mullet is strong, and I just want to make sure that you know, that I know that," he told Eugene with a smile, not realizing that Ani had already told Eugene all of this in a more believable way, thus the reason the man was rubbing away at the leather bracelet he'd kept on the whole time he'd been here.
"Consider me made," Eugene responded as he felt the Dara knot. "Our pages are utterly and completely one and the same."
Negan seemed to contemplate his words for a moment before standing and offering his hand. Eugene, for the life of him, couldn't understand the action. The man was standing above him, the back of his hand facing towards him, and it was just stuck there in front of his face. Starting to do the only thing he could think the man wanted, Eugene reached up to take the man's hand at the same time he leaned in to kiss it only to be shocked when Negan yanked his hand away.
"Eugene!" he said before pausing for a breath. "I was goin' for a handshake." Taking a moment to enjoy Eugene's flustered face the same way he had Ani's when she said something without thinking, he couldn't help but smirk and tell the man as if he was a child, "Stand up. Now, I can see where you would be confused as I rarely do that shit. A handshake is a sign of mutual respect. Not many people get that from me," he told them, both men acknowledging the other before dropping hands.
"There's work that needs gettin' do," Eugene told him in response and walked out and back down the hall to his arranged dwellings.
Once there, he began taking apart Tanya's boombox, fully intending on fixing it, but when he found that it was nothing more than a loose, janky wire on the speaker. He couldn't help but hold it up and stare at it until a light went off in his head and he came up with an idea that might just make Negan impressed with him yet again. If he could rig the speaker up to an external source of sound, somehow launch said instrument over the herd of walkers outside, he could easily lead them away. The only problem was that he had no external sound source on hand. Shakily setting the speaker down, he closed his eyes and grabbed his head lamp before going down to the storage area and searched the shelves for the item he needed. With his hands shaking and his breath in tatters, he approached the casket that had been Rosita's final resting spot. He had thoroughly been in love with the woman, thinking that if he kept around her, kept living in the same house as her and trying, she might see his merits and give him a chance. But just like that, Rosita had been a walker, coming out of that off-white casket to attack Negan while Eugene himself stood by and watched. It had him turning away from it before he steadied his resolve and took several deep breaths before walking over to the casket and opened it. The iPod he had given to the woman in an attempt to ease her passing was laying at the bottom and even he cried, he hoped she'd found comfort in the music on it, even if it was now going to be the cause of the Sanctuary's saving. He quickly left the storage area and returned to his room and within the span of twenty minutes managed to rig together a remote controlled, long-range speaker system. If his calculations were correct, it would fly out roughly five miles before falling out of range of the controller and the wind curled its tails whilst still playing the tunes that would facilitate their escape. It was an ingenious invention, if he said so himself, and it was with pride that he took it to the roof to test it out. Placing it down, he readied his makeshift launching gear and arranged the aircraft on it before standing straight and hitting record on his tape player, speaking into the little speaker that came with it.
"Audio recording for transcription," he began. "Emergency operations manual, first entry. Countermeasure approach for fence incursion. High pop of undead, good 40, 50 deep to the former fence. Note to accompany schematics for audio glider emergency binder. Audio glider using sound, utilizing music as 96 decibel redirection, drawing active deceased along with it away from all exits, allowing immediate free passage for permanent redirection if successful," he said before thinking about it and adding, "Scratch the if—when. When successful, hell yes."
He bent over to pick up the controller for the device when he heard Dwight say, "Don't turn around. Get up, back away from that thing. Back away from it!" he demanded a second time as Eugene refused to move.
Standing up with his hands out in surrender, Eugene was trying his hardest not to breakdown crying as he plead, "I'm attempting to save people, Dwight. And killin' me is killin' a great many innocents. When this bird slips is surly balance, it's gonna Pied Piper away their cold corpses and free this place."
"And Negan will kill Rick, and Daryl, and Sasha, and Abraham. Ani...He'll wait for her to pop, 'cause he's fond of her. Then he'll raise her kid for her while makin' her earn time to spend with it. He's already talked about it to Simon. Startin' to look like I'm not the only one wantin' to fight here, either. Negan, he'll kill all your old friends without even battin' an eye."
"They're former travelin' companions, nothin' more," Eugene defended.
"Then why you still carryin' around that damn carving, huh? Don't tell me you don't feel nothin' for 'em. You're just too scared to admit it," Dwight countered. "I know, 'cause I was the same. I told you, the way for you to come out of this safe, way to come out alive, is to do nothin'. Are you too stupid or somethin' to understand that? I am workin' with Ani and Rick to keep them and the people here alive! We can get rid of Negan! Just Negan! We're almost there!"
"Negan ain't the dyin' type, Dwight," Eugene said with a shake of his head.
"Oh, but you are, Eugene," Dwight said, bringing his pistol right to the back of the coward's head.
"I am," Eugene cried while admitting. "That's exactly why I've not yet stepped back, as it were. By my reckonin', I have two selects on facin' my fate, and zero chances of explainin' myself either way I choose. One, I abort the launch on this glider, don't free this place from the stranglehold of cold teeth slash tongues and Negan will likely execute me as what he considers to be a personal favor. Or I could go for what's behind door number two," he said defiantly as he brought the controller to position, "take my chances at getting shot in the back by a some-times ally, despite whatever injury I may have caused in the past by delivering a chomp down on your chode."
Bending down in order to press play on the iPod, Eugene shakily rose to straighten his back as music began sounding. Starting up the propeller, he walked alongside the glider until it took off past the edge of the building, remaining high above the walkers after it ran out of ramp. Eugene was feeling pretty proud of himself despite the potentially impending doom he was about to face at the hands of Dwight. It was going to work as the walkers below were beginning to take notice of the sound, making a small smile begin to form. The happiness at the first signs of his success fell away into horror as gunfire sounded behind him and the aircraft was blown to bits. Before he even had a chance to look back, more gunfire sounded from everywhere around the Sanctuary, leaving him to duck and tremble as the sound of a truck neared. He heard the bang of something, felt the trembles throughout the building as he raced his way back indoors. The sound of screams and gunfire was what met Eugene as he ran past people to the little outlook and watched what was happening below. The workers were racing up the stairs as several were consumed by the encroaching horde. They lost many Saviors to the dead, Arat, Regina, Laura, Jackson, Marcus, Dwight, and Simon doing their best to block the stairways with permanently dead corpses while Laura, Simon, Dwight and Regina also did their best to shorten the suffering of those being torn apart. Eugene stood and forced himself to watch, forced himself to let the anger at what doing nothing for so long had brought upon these people. Anger at what Rick and Ani had forced these people to endure, what they were allowing to happen to good people. It was all out of anger for grievances they could have easily curtailed had they simply kept their noses strictly within their own business instead of glancing at the neighbors' cheat sheet.
His anger lead him to burst into the medical ward and slam the door before stomping right up to Gabriel and spitting in his face viciously, "The answer is no! I will never, not on your Nelly, be on board with your plan! Your invite is declined! I will not end up like Rosita or you! You both made your choices, which I imagine most would calculate as the right thing, especially Ani and Rick with their high moral standards and their standing upon the highest of horses. You rolled your d20s and came up dead and seemingly soon to be. I cannot do the same. Now, judge me if you choose, but I'm seeing twenty for twenty, I'm pickin' up ten by ten, and receivin' five by five that stayin' safe, means stayin' alive, and I'm a-okay with doin' whatever it takes to lock that down! So I will obey Negan! I will not cover on anyone's u-turn on loyalties and I will damn well make sure that Dr. Carson stays cozy, comfy right here in case I ever require his healin' expertise. And I won't feel bad about it. Because I will survive. It's in my biological imperative. It's all I know how to do," he said before he left in a storm and headed back to his, slamming the door and grabbing the bottle of wine.
He'd only just swallowed a large gulp when his door slammed open and Arat entered, closing the door behind her and turning on him. "Take your clothes off," she commanded as she began undressing.
"What? Why?"
"'Cause I'm not gonna die without getting laid," she answered. "I don't give a shit about you, you don't give a shit about anyone but you, and all the other guys would read too much into it. So take your fucking clothes off."
"Okay. But can I leave my socks on?"
"Yeah, sure. Whatever," Arat told him before shutting what little light there was in the room out.
Almost as soon as he finished, or rather, she finished, they were both getting dressed when Eugene uttered a sentence that left Arat gaping like a fish as he left the room, "Thank you for the good ol' romp in the sack. Nothin' like makin' the Devil with two backs to get the thinkin' juices flowin'. You might've just helped me save this place. I'll be sure to put in a good word with Negan for you."
Heading down to the meeting room after informing a couple of the other Saviors that he needed to speak to the man, Eugene waited for Negan to arrive. As soon as he did, Eugene began to give him a step by step, detailed plan, of how they could free themselves of the horde that had broken through their defenses once and for all. He had estimated the location of the snipers in the shoot out that lead to the truck breaking through the wall, thereby releasing the walkers into the innards of the Sanctuary and causing quite the calamity to their citizens. All they needed to do was take out the snipers, at which time they could easily form a large group of Saviors with guns to break through the horde long enough for a smaller group to get out and get to the cache to retrieve the Fat Lady. He had no qualms in mentioning how Arat helped him come to the conclusion he had, earning a shit eating grin and a peel of praise from Negan before Eugene began talking about the plan some more.
"Well look at you, gettin' some. I didn't think you had it in you," Negan chuckled when he was done before carefully reiterating, "It'll take an ass-load of ammo."
"It will," Eugene agreed as Negan walked up to him. "Even with shot discipline and P and Q mindin'."
"Can my bullet maker fill my guns back up?"
"If you get my machines to me or me to my machines...that is an affirmative," Eugene told him confidently.
"You do realize the storm of shit I'm gonna dump on Rick as soon as I'm cleared of the shit storm he dumped on me," Negan asked him.
"I do, indeed."
"Goddamn, Eugene. And here I thought Ani was cold. How does it feel to be the second-most important person here? How does it feel to save these good people?"
"It feels great," he admitted. "Got something else of urgency for you. 'Nother item solved."
"More than a way out and a promise of bullets on the way?" Negan asked, clearly delighted. "Jesus, Eugene. You are magnificence."
"I am," he deadpanned, making Negan laugh.
"So what is it? Tell me," he said with a smile before a knock on the door interrupted them. "What?!" Negan asked exasperated.
"We have the stairs," Regina informed him as she, Dwight, and some of the other Saviors came into the room. "But the dead ones have the lower level—the whole thing."
"Not much longer," Negan informed them. "See, Eugene, here, has solved us a way out of this mess. And, he actually says he has a topper."
"Yeah?" Simon said as he came into view, staring down at Eugene with a sneer.
"What's that?" Dwight asked, standing right next to Eugene with a similar expression to Simon's.
"I think I can fix the intercom system," Eugene said, realizing that what Dwight had said about others within the Sanctuary wanting Negan gone, wanting Rick to win, had been true. "It would, uh, absolutely change the face of communications here."
"That's it?" Negan asked, disappointment and frustration etched on his face at what he felt was wasted time and excitement.
"Sorry," Eugene deadpanned. "That kinda thing, uh...It really cranks my shaft. I'll leave you to the last action item," he said as he began walking out of the room.
Walking back to his room, he sat on his bed in quiet contemplation. He wasn't sure who was right and who was wrong in this conflict. Sure, Negan's bashing in of Glenn's skull surely put a sour taste in the mouths of any and all that knew the man, but it wasn't enough to cause so much suffering and strife for the people who had nothing to do with it? Sure, he'd seen a few people being mistreated very poorly, even so far as to seeing one worker beaten to death for an infraction that seemed minor to him, but was apparently the man's last strike. There were strict rules to follow and strict punishment for not following the rules, but wasn't that the case for all of society, even before the fall? Eugene had always done what he felt was right for him, and this was no different. Yet, if Negan lost, what would the others think of him and what would they do to him if he survived this war? He'd been telling himself this entire time that they had been nothing more than traveling companions, yet he hadn't been able to throw out that stupid wooden token. Ani and Tara both had seen something in him that he hadn't seen in himself, something they'd made sure to encourage until he showed Abraham that he had it. Something that had begun to give him a profound sense of relief and resolve until Rosita had forced him to make her a bullet even after he had refused.
That one act, after witnessing the horror of Glenn's death, being beaten by the Saviors, and finally that one act by Rosita, whatever he had hoped to prove, whatever he had hoped to become, it had shattered into a million pieces he couldn't even gather. Instead, he was swept away by the Saviors who forged him into something else entirely, something even he was having problems recognizing as the days passed by. While the gunfire rang out and the plan went under way, the sound and gravity of everything he had done for the Saviors thus far got to him. He practically ran over to the little kitchenette and grabbed the bottle of wine he had gotten from Tanya. Eugene poured himself exactly 1.5 ounces and knocked it back, taking a breath before picking up the entire bottle and chugging straight from the neck. His stomach couldn't take it, though, and he found himself puking in the sink before turning and gulping from the bottle some more. He was the one that was going to cause the downfall of his friends; not Negan, not Dwight, not Rick or Ani or Abraham. It was him, Eugene Hermann Porter, that was going to lead to the utter annihilation of everyone he ever knew and cared for, everyone who gave a shit about him for him, not just his mind. He didn't stop drinking until the world went black and the sounds of gunfire were but distant echoes.