••CW: Chapter contains mention of suicide••
~Four~
A loud bang on the other side of Eve's bedroom door jolted her awake.
"Eve!" It was Tara. "Get up!"
A sense of dread shot through Eve as she stared at the closed door.
"You up?" Tara asked from out in the hall.
"Ye-yeah," Eve answered hesitantly as she swallowed the large lump in her throat, trying to find her voice. "I am."
"Get dressed and meet me by platform two!"
Platform two? That was the one near Negan's cell. With shakey legs, Eve reached the door and opened it to find Tara with her brows knitted together, and a worried look plastered on her face. Something was majorly wrong.
"What's going on?" Eve asked though she didn't really want to know the answer.
"Huge herd came in from overnight!" Tara said to Eve, her voice rushed. She then turned and began descending the stairs, still keeping her eyes on Eve. "C'mon! Grab some guns from the armory and meet us over there. We need all hands on deck!"
Once Tara left, Eve allowed herself only five seconds to be relieved that her roommate's urgency had nothing to do with Negan. She dressed hurriedly and followed Tara's instructions. Olivia wasn't at the gun locker, but Eve grabbed a small handgun and tucked it in the waistband of her pants along with some extra rounds. Then Eve pulled out a fully loaded machine gun just in case, slung it over her shoulder, and took off running towards platform two.
When Eve rounded the last corner, she ran into a complete mess. People were everywhere. Young and old. Some watched the scene in horror, others cried helplessly, but most were trying to help. The herd was on the other side of platform two, and a group of people was lined up at the ledge of the platform, shooting down at the dead gathering on the other side. Eve could hear the dead growling as they banged loudly against the outside wall, which would surely be attracting other walkers.
Eve cursed. There had to be a significant amount of the dead on the other side of the wall because one panel had started to split away from the others. Even the platform was wobbling on its axis. This was not good. Not good at all.
"Eve, c'mon!" Tara yelled from behind.
Eve turned around to find Tara running full speed toward the front gate with twenty other people following behind her, all with large machine guns in tow. Without question, Eve joined the group. Once they were surrounding the gate, Tara and Rosita gathered everyone's attention.
"They're going to break the wall!" Tara shouted to the group. "We have to get in behind the herd. Once we're out of here, we'll head straight down the road, then once far enough away, we get in behind them."
"Keep your head on a swivel!" Rosita interjected as she looked around. "The herd is drawing in others."
Tara pointed. "Aaron, you and Laura take two of the cars. I feel like they will have a better chance than anything getting their attention away from the wall."
"Got it," Aaron nodded while Laura did the same, her game face on.
Tara then turned her attention back to everyone else. "Stay in pairs. Everyone ready?"
"Hell, yeah!"
"You got it, boss."
"Yessir."
"Bring it on."
"Definitely!" Eve added along with the others.
Rosita turned and nodded once at Gabriel, who then unlocked the gate of Alexandria.
As it slid open, the group went tight-lipped, and all became focused on the task at hand. An overwhelming sense of camaraderie overcame Eve; having not felt a sense of belonging in so long, it almost brought her to tears. She quickly blinked, willing them not to fall. With her gun in hand, about to kick some zombie ass, this was not the place or the time to be found crying like a ninny.
Once outside the safe parameters of Alexandria, everyone gasped as they laid their eyes on the daunting task before them. A football field away, a large mass of walkers were gathered around platform two. Eve watched in horror as the wall moved back and forth with the pressure the walkers were causing. Shit. They needed to act fast!
Once Aaron and Laura hopped in the modified cars and drove away, Rosita turned to look at everyone. "Okay, guys! Let's do this thing!"
With their weapons drawn, the group moved as one down the main road that led away from Alexandria. They came across a few dead, but people quickly put them down with knife blows to the temple.
Eve followed behind the others as they took a left and filtered in behind the walkers at the wall. They all spread across an open field behind the herd, awaiting instruction. Eve sucked in a breath as she stared forward. Close to one hundred walkers were pushing up on the wall. Taking them all out was going to take some time and firepower. Eve swallowed the lump in her throat and looked around at her comrades and the firearms they held. Almost every weapon out here had a silencer. The Alexandrians were no joke. This community didn't play games regarding keeping their livelihoods intact. The people who had come out to defend their home undoubtedly knew how to take down the dead.
Tara pulled out her walkie-talkie and hit the button on the side. "Outside team is in place."
"Roger," said a voice on the other end.
The sound of car horns blowing came from Eve's left, and she turned to watch as two cars driven by Laura and Aaron came into view. They were modified with large spikes integrated into the front of the vehicles. The two drove behind the herd in an attempt to draw them away. The more they could get to turn around away from the wall, the better.
Slowly but surely, Tara's plan with the cars began to work. A bunch of the dead started turning away from the wall. Once Laura and Aaron drove away, Tara raised her handgun, hollered, and took the first shot. It was on after that, everyone shooting from where they stood as the dead began to stalk slowly toward them.
Eve unloaded the 15-round clip pretty quickly, taking down every walker that came near. Most she shot in the head with one bullet, but a few took a little more until they were down and lifeless. Eve shook her head as she reloaded another clip into the small handgun, knowing her father would scold her for wasting the extra bullets. Eve smirked as she could practically hear her father scoffing at her in her mind. Something she used to despise was something she wished she could listen to just one last time. Eve shook her head again in an attempt to dislodge the thoughts of her father from her mind. This was not the place nor the time. She pulled up her gun, ready for round two but found she was too late, and a walker was on her before she could even comprehend what happened.
Eve knew what to do, though. Had been trained to know what to do when situations like this arose. Without panicking or screaming out in terror, Eve immediately dropped to her back and pushed the walker away from her with her feet, forcing the dead thing away from her. It toppled to the ground, its rotting arms giving it no support. Eve then grabbed the gun she'd dropped beside her in the grass, pulled it up, and shot the fucker right between its decaying eyes. It fell to the ground in a disgusting plop. Not able to celebrate that small victory, Eve popped up from the ground and gave her comrades a once-over. Everyone seemed to be holding their own, and despite that little hiccup, so was she.
Eve tucked the handgun in the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a large hunting knife, ready for some hand-to-hand combat. She needed to save some bullets anyway. The first walker she came to was a man; his rotten brown skin stuck to his bones. His shirt was practically a tattered rag, and the dirty jeans barely clung to his sunken hips. The walker outstretched his arms in her direction; its beady little eyes were surprisingly bright blue instead of the usual black. It chomped its jaws as it neared Eve, and she nearly gagged at the stench that wafted from its decaying self. Wanting to get away from this one, Eve quickly sunk her knife into its temple, and the thing fell instantly to the ground before her. She wiped its nasty dark blood off the blade and went to look for more. Eve downed a handful more with her favorite knife, and then when the walkers started to come in quicker successions, she switched to the big boy she had strapped to her back.
It took a little over an hour, but with help from the group on the wobbly platform and the group out in the field, they finally got the job done. Taking a deep sigh of relief, Eve couldn't believe they had done it. She'd never taken out a group of walkers this big and couldn't keep the prideful smile from her face for making it through without a scratch. Clean-up would be a mess, but that was thoughts for later. Eve couldn't help but join in with the cheers as the group came together in the field. They were all in good spirits when Gabriel slid open the gate, but that quickly diminished when a sour-faced Michonne greeted them. Eve's heart fell into her gut as memories from the night before flooded into her mind. She instantly felt sick.
Tara and Rosita went to her immediately while everyone else dispersed in quiet gossip. This was about Negan. Eve knew it in the way the twosome were talking to each other in hushed conversations.
A hand clasped Eve's shoulder, and she jumped out of her skin, almost screaming. She turned to find Gabriel with his hands up before him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
Eve smiled goodheartedly at him. "No, you're good!"
"You guys did some good work out there," he told her.
"Thank you," Eve answered without looking at him, her eyes still on Michonne and the others.
"You were very competent out there," he observed.
Eve blinked, giving the man beside her her full attention. "Thank you," she said again, then changed the subject. "Do you know what's going on?"
Gabriel shook his head. "Michonne didn't say anything to me." He changed the subject. "I'm glad Alexandria can call you one of ours."
He placed a hand on Eve's shoulder again, gave it a squeeze, then walked away.
A minute later, Tara came over to Eve with a forced smile.
"Great work today!" Tara complimented.
"Thank you," said Eve hating she was starting to sound like a broken record. Then she couldn't help but ask, "What's going on?"
"Oh, it's nothing important. Just Alexandrian stuff," Tara said with a wave of her hand. "Why don't you go ahead and head home, I've got something to deal with first."
"Oh... okay." That was all Eve could muster up in response as all the air had deflated from her lungs.
"Later, skater!" Tara turned and followed in the same direction Michonne and Rosita had headed.
The adrenaline high Eve had been riding dissipated, and panic quickly overtook her. She knew without a doubt that they were talking about Negan. Had they found out what she had done?
On autopilot, Eve headed home, her mind racing with what-ifs and crazy scenarios. When she walked by the cell, everything seemed normal. The door was shut, and no one was on guard duty. Eve wanted to stop and peek in through the window to make sure he was still in there, but with all the commotion that had gone on, everyone in the community was out and about, chatting about the chaos of the early morning.
Once home, Eve closed the front door behind her and rested against it as her knees gave out from under her. She fell to the floor, panic gripping her heart. Eve just knew they somehow had found out she'd visited Negan after the party and that he had almost tried to kill himself with the bottle she'd given him. She choked back a sob. What if he hadn't listened to her, kept a piece of the bottle, and actually done it once she had left?
The next thing Eve knew, she was running up the stairs and into her room. Throwing back the three comforters, she'd sat the trash bag underneath, Eve pulled it out with shakey hands. Bringing it into the bathroom, Eve opened it up and began pulling out the bottle pieces. She laid out the broken bits beside each other. One by one, the pieces started to fit together. When there were no more shards of glass to pull out of the bag, she found that the bottle was missing a crucial piece. The neck of the bottle was not there.
Eve's heart sunk into her gut. Did he keep that piece? Had he used it on himself? What if that's what Michonne had to tell Tara and the others? A quivering sob escaped, sending Eve into a puddle of tears. She tossed the broken bottle back into the bag and then returned it to the closet. Eve refolded the blankets on top, closed the closet door, and then crawled underneath the blanket on the bed to wallow in her paranoia and tears until Tara came home.
Around four in the afternoon, the door of the house swung open and closed. Eve, lounging on the couch, immediately noticed the solemn expression on Tara's face as she entered the kitchen. Tara dropped her bag onto the kitchen island with a sigh. Eve peeled herself from her blanket nest and observed Tara, who leaned against the counter, arms folded across her chest, deep in contemplation.
"Are you alright?" Eve asked Tara tentatively, her voice barely a whisper.
Being new to Alexandria, Eve understood she wasn't privy to the community's inner workings, but she couldn't shake the need to know. She wondered if Michonne's earlier confrontation had anything to do with Negan. The thought had consumed her all day.
Tara glanced over, her eyes weary, and shrugged. "It's as good as it can be, I suppose."
Neither of them budged from their respective spots as the tension hung heavy between them and Eve found that she couldn't even breathe.
"Is there anything I can help with?" Eve stammered anxiously.
Tara smiled at last then gestured towards the fridge. "I'm getting a beer. Want one?"
"Sure," Eve replied.
As Tara settled next to Eve on the couch, she passed her a cold can. Eve offered one of the blankets she'd been wrapped in, and Tara accepted gratefully. With their drinks open, they both took sips as the silence weighed heavily on Eve's shoulders. Eventually, Tara broke it.
"Do you know anything about the prisoner we have here?"
Eve's heart sank at her roommate's question, anticipating the worst.
"Only a little bit," she replied softly, holding onto the can tightly.
She braced herself for the news of Negan's demise or their discovery of her visit to him the previous night. Should she confess now or wait for Tara to confront her? Eve remained silent.
"Well, he attempted suicide last night."
"Attempted?" Eve asked a little too quickly.
Tara took another sip of beer.
"They found blood in his cell this morning, and his hands were pretty banged up."
"Do you..." Eve hesitated, uncertain if she wanted the truth. "Do you know what happened?"
Eve struggled to keep her hand steady as she raised the can to her lips.
Tara let out a puzzled laugh and shrugged. "No idea. He claims he fell and cut himself on the bars in the middle of the night."
Eve almost choked on her beer, her throat clearing as she processed the revelation. Had he truly covered for her?
"Why do you think it was suicide?" Eve inquired.
Tara finished her beer and set the empty can on the coffee table, then turned to Eve.
"The guy's tried it before, multiple times." Tara tossed her empty can towards the trashcan and made it in."We've wasted too many resources on that scumbag. Want another beer?"
Eve could only respond with a nod to her roommate. She down the remainder of her first beer and was opening the new one when she posed her next question.
"If he's such a liability, why do you all choose to keep him alive?"
Tara chuckled skeptically as she cracked open her own beer.
"Rick's rationale for keeping Negan around is to use him as a symbol. It's about demonstrating that we don't always resort to killing, even with the worst offenders. It's about holding onto the belief that there's still some goodness left in a few of us."
Eve sensed there was more to the story. "But..."
Tara took a long swig and fixed her gaze on the blank TV screen before continuing.
"But personally, I think it's all a load of crap. It's just Rick's way of taunting Negan with how well we're doing despite the chaos he caused. Rick's got Negan under his thumb now, and he's relishing it. It's more about power dynamics than anything else if you ask me. Most of us here want him dead, but Rick insists on keeping him alive, so we go along with it."
Eve was stunned by Tara's revelation. Outwardly, she remained composed, but internally, Eve was in turmoil. Her thoughts raced as she berated herself for her actions the previous night when she'd visited Negan's cell. How foolish she had been to offer him the wine bottle right after he expressed a desire to die? Like a complete idiot, she had essentially handed him the means to do so. But Tara mentioned that only his hands were injured, likely while he searched for the broken pieces in the dark.
"So, did you have fun last night?" Tara asked casually.
The sudden shift in topic caught Eve off guard, forcing her to pause and recalibrate her thoughts to the party at Aaron and Eric's, the one Tara herself had thrown for her. Eve took another sip of beer, using the moment to compose herself.
"Yes, I did!" Eve replied with a bright smile that she hoped seemed genuine. "Thank you for arranging that. It meant a lot to me."
"No, problem," Tara responded, gently nudging Eve's shoulder, a spark of life returning to her expression.
Tara's sincerity on her face only deepened Eve's guilt. Would she ever confess the truth to Tara? That she was the reason for the blood on the prisoner's hands?
"I'm glad I finally have someone to enjoy an afternoon beer with without feeling judged," Tara confessed, laughing and Eve laughed along with her.
Eve raised her beer. "No judgment here."
They toasted each other and took deep swigs. Eve glanced at Tara, all the while despising herself for the pretense, the phoniness, and the lies.
"You know," Tara began, "I'm glad Rosita and I bumped into you that day."
Finishing her second beer, Eve set it down on the coffee table.
"Me too," she said, sinking back against the pillows on the couch. "I never thought places like this still existed."
"Neither did I, until Aaron found us and invited us back here," Tara said, leaning back against the couch. "We've been here almost six years now."
"Wow. Six years," Eve mused, gazing up at the ceiling.
"Yep. But it hasn't been without its challenges no matter how great this place looks now," Tara remarked, her gaze driving to the bay window in the living room. "The beginning was really tough."
"Because of the prisoner?" Eve inquired.
Tara nodded once. "He's a big part of it. But there were others before him."
"I've heard people talking bout a war," Eve raised an eyebrow as she questioned Tara. "Were you involved in that?"
"I was. Negan, the prisoner," Tara explained, "nearly destroyed Alexandria. It took years to rebuild everything."
"Damn."
Tara's tone remained natural as she continued to gaze out the window. "At the start, Negan and his crew captured Rick and several others from our group. I was out scouting at the time." Tara paused, her lower lip trembling. After taking a deep breath, she resumed. "Negan killed two of our group members right then and there, in front of Rick and everyone."
She paused again, gathering herself before meeting Eve's gaze. Tears welled in her eyes, and Eve placed her hand on Tara's forearm and rubbed, offering her some comfort.
He beat them to death with a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. After that, Negan took over Alexandria. Whatever he and his 'Saviors' wanted, they took." A tear trickled down her cheek, and she wiped it quickly away. "The first time Negan entered Alexandria, they confiscated all our mattresses. And guess what they did with them?"
Eve remained silent and swallowed the large, dry lump in her throat.
"They took them and burned every single one, not even a mile from here. Eventually, they seized our guns and most of our food. Negan even abducted people from Alexandria and tortured them."
As Eve finally grasped the true nature of the man confined behind bars, a chill swept over her, and the weight of guilt settled deep in her bones. How could she have ventured down there? How could she have confided in him things she hadn't even shared with Tara?
"How did it all end?" Eve's voice was barely above a whisper.
"We had assistance," Tara responded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Four other communities rallied with us; eventually, it was over, and somehow, we'd won."
Though Tara spoke of victory, there was no triumph in her tone, and Eve didn't perceive it as such. The toll, Eve found out, had been heavy, with numerous causalities because of the man behind the bars.
"Rick slit Negan's throat," Tara continued, her voice tinged with bitterness. "We thought it was the end, that Rick would let him bleed out, but..." She shook her head. "He spared him. Sent him back here to the infirmity, where he was patched up and incarcerated, despite the havoc he wreaked. And he'll be looked after until he's old and gray." Tara clenched her jaw.
"So Rick saved his life, despite the wishes of everyone else?" Eve sought clarification.
"Essentially," Tara replied defeated. She rose from her seat. "Want another beer?"
"Sure."
As Tara swung open the fridge, the front door burst open, admitting the force of nature known as Rosita Espinosa into the house. She spun around, fixing Tara with a venomous glare, hands planted firmly on her hips.
"Why didn't you just end it?" Rosita's voice reverberated through the room as she jabbed her finger accusingly at Tara. "He's practically begging for death, so why don't we just grant his wish?"
"We don't know if that was his intention this time, Rosita," Tara responded calmly. "You know that."
"Rick's been gone for nearly a month now!" Rosita bellowed, her arms flailing as he paced the cramped kitchen. "We should've done it the moment he left, Tara!"
"Snap out of it, Rosita!" Tara retorted, her voice rising. "Didn't we attempt that approach when Rick first brought Negan here? And what was the outcome?"
"You should have just left him to die in that cage when you stumbled upon him the first time he tried killing himself," Rosita's voice was barely audible.
Tara rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Oh my god, Rosita! I've told you countless times that I wasn't the only one who found him that day! Gabriel was there too. So stop laying all the blame on me!"
Rosita mulled over Tara's words, gnawing on her bottom lip as she leaned against the closed front door, arms folded tightly across her chest, lost in contemplation.
After a period of silence, Rosita finally spoke, her voice contrite. "Sorry."
"Listen," Tara's voice softened, tinged with frustration. "You have to remember, you're not the only one here feeling this way. You're not the only one still angry about all of this."
"I know," Rosita replied wearily, sinking into one of the chairs at the kitchen island.
"Here," Tara said, sliding an opened beer in front of Rosita. "Join us for a drink. Stay, hang out."
Reluctantly, Rosita accepted the beer and then turned her gaze over to Eve on the couch. "Sorry Eve," she murmured. "I tend to get a bit worked up at times."
"We all do sometimes," Eve interjected, rising from the couch for the first time in hours. "I get it completely."
Tara handed Eve her beer before grabbing one for herself. The trio toasted then fell into a brief silence as sipped their beers, allowing the tension in the room to dissipate.
Rosita broke the silence. "So, was it a suicide attempt?"
Tara shrugged. "Michonne doesn't think so. Gabriel found himself sleeping in his cot this morning and woke him up when he noticed the blood on the floor."
"Did Siddiq patch him up?" Rosita inquired.
Tara nodded. "You would've known all of this if you had stuck around."
Rosita fell silent as if she felt targeted by Tara's remark.
"What did he have to say about the cuts on his hands?" Eve asked Tara, curious.
"Siddiq didn't find any cuts around his wrist to indicate a suicide attempt, just on his hands," Tara explained.
"Is he still in the infirmary?" Rosita asked as she took another deep sip of beer.
"As of about an hour ago, he was," Tara replied, glancing at the clock on the wall.
Suddenly, Rosita lunged over the island and snatched the largest knife from the counter's woodblock. Before Tara and Eve could react, she darted out the door.
"Rosita!" Tara's voice echoed after her. "Don't even think about it!"
Ignoring Tara's warning, Rosita raced down the porch steps and sprinted down the road toward the infirmary.
"Dammit!" Tara exclaimed, then bolted off the porch in pursuit.
Eve followed closely behind, but Rosita's determination propelled her far ahead. Within minutes, they reached their destination. With the force of a whirlwind, Rosita burst through the infirmary.
"Where is he?" Rosita's voice rang out, as he pointed the knife at Saddiq.
The doctor's eyes widened at the sight of the weapon. "Who, Rosita?"
"Where's Negan?" she demanded through clenched teeth.
Tara and Eve stood by the door, watching as Rosita paced the clinic, her agitation palpable. She seemed like a bull in a china shop, ready to charge. The few patients in the room looked on, visibly alarmed by the knife in Rosita's hand. Saddiq left the bedside of a patient and approached Rosita cautiously, hands raised in surrender.
"It's okay, Rosita," Saddiq said calmly. "How about you hand me the knife?"
He extended his hand towards her, but Rosita recoiled.
"Where is he Saddiq?" she repeated, her voice rising in intensity.
"Negan's back in his cell," a husky voice spoke from behind Eve and Tara.
Startled, the two turn around to find a man whom Eve didn't recognize standing directly behind them. His unkempt appearance and tattered clothing gave the impression of someone who had seen better days.
"You brought him back to his cell?" Rosita snapped at the man.
He grunted in response with a slight nod.
"You should've killed him, Daryl!" Rosita's voice dripped with venom. "Why didn't you take the chance!?"
"Because Rick asked me to take him back to his cell. So I did," the man retorted.
Rosita's face contorted with a range of emotions as she glared at the man behind Eve. Without missing a beat, she switched from English to Spanish, berating as she dropped the kitchen knife and stormed out of the infirmary.
As the tension dissipated with Rosita's departure, Tara entered the room to retrieve her kitchen knife.
"Sorry everyone," she apologized as she glanced around the room.
Her apology was met with understanding nods and reassurances. Then without another word, Tara and Eve left the infirmary, the unfamiliar man still lingering on the porch.
"Hey Daryl," Tara greeted with a playful punch to the arm. "Long time no see."
"Rick's back. He wants to talk to you," he simply stated.
"What about?" Tara asked.
Daryl shrugged. "He's in the hall."
Once Tara nodded, Daryl turned and left, leaving Eve and Tara standing alone on the porch of the infirmary.
"So that's Daryl, huh?" Eve inquired.
"That's Daryl," Tara agreed. "But don't worry about him. He's harmless."
"Okay," Eve replied hesitantly, her eyes fixed on Daryl's departing figure.
Tara draped an arm over Eve's shoulder, guiding her off the porch. "Let's go see what Rick wants."