More Than This

by Graveyard Whispers

Naomi Payton was Daryl Dixon's childhood best friend. In truth, they were each others only friend. But sometimes growing up means growing apart and when Naomi's ambitions and Daryl's loyalty to his brother drive a wedge between them, will the world falling apart be enough to bring them together again? Hell, will they even find each other again?

52. Storms and Whistles

Naomi

I could feel him watching me. He hadn't said a word, but I knew I'd find him leaning against the door behind me with his arms crossed in that way that makes the muscles in them swell. Eyes fixed on me like he sees me in a way that nobody else can, which I guess he does, and that's what makes it so damn effective.

"Come to bed," Daryl said. I couldn't decide what annoyed me the most - that he hadn't asked or that something about him demanding it made it more appealing.

"Can't. I'm on night watch," I said, although it should have been obvious that I wasn't standing around on the Sanctuary roof for fun.

"Another night?" he asked. I heard him move. Step closer. "That's four this week."

"Manny's kid's sick," I said.

"So?"

"So, it ain't fair to make him do night shifts when he's got a feverish toddler," I said. Daryl still found it hard to give a shit about ex-Saviors, but he'd never had any resentment towards the kids. "Someone's gotta step in."

"And that someone's gotta be you?"

"I offered. Didn't see anyone else stepping up," I shrugged like it was no big deal, and I hadn't jumped at the chance to watch the forest for any sign of Negan's return. As if I wouldn't have found a way to be up here even if Manny's kid hadn't caught a cold. Daryl wrapped his arms around me from behind. He'd been standing so close that it wasn't a surprise. My body relaxed into his.

"Y'know, I am in charge of this place," he said, his low voice right by my ear. "I could get someone to cover for you. A perk of being the boss and all."

Before I could answer, I felt his lips on my neck. I fought the urge to close my eyes and melt further into him. If Negan snuck out of the woods and I missed it because Daryl was too damn irresistible, I'd never forgive us.

"Can't be seen to be giving me special treatment."

"Sure I can," he said, barely taking a break from the slow trail of kisses he was leaving on my neck and shoulder. "You're my girl."

My girl.

Would hearing him say that about me ever not make my stomach flip in a way I hated myself for just a little bit?

Goddamn it, Naomi, get it together.

"It's one night. I'll be fine," I said and cursed myself for doing so. All I wanted was to take his hand and go to bed with him. Beneath me, the wind sighed through the trees like the forest was mad at me for turning this down too.

"Ain't there supposed to be more than one person at each post?" Daryl asked, and I bristled because I knew damn well he knew the answer to that.

"Yup." I tried to keep the confrontation out of my voice, but I could feel it rising in us.

"So, how come you're out here on your own?"

"Technically, I'm not," I said, trying to keep it light. "You're out here, too."

"But I ain't supposed to be," he said. My heart sank. "You give Manny's buddy the night off, too?"

"No," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "I'm sure Justin will be along any minute."

Daryl tensed at the mention of his name. He let go of me and took a step back. Cold rushed into the spaces where his arms had been.

"Justin, huh?" He wanted to yell at me. Part of me wanted him to yell at me, too.

"Yup," I said. Daryl paused, waiting for me to say something else, but I didn't react. I didn't bring up that I knew he already knew this because it would have been run by him by someone. And he must have seen the changes, or he wouldn't have known he could find me up here.

"He's late," Daryl said when I didn't rise to anything else.

"I'm sure he'll be along any minute," I said again. The cool in my voice was noticeably artificial, even to me. Daryl stewed in the silence. I stole a glance over my shoulder at him. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes glaring out into the darkness like the night itself had just insulted him. He didn't like any of the Saviors, but something about Justin especially rubbed him the wrong way.

"You tell Jerry that you can't make patrol tomorrow, then?"

"No," I said, irritated that he was asking questions he knew the answer to, skirting around a fight he wouldn't actually start. "I'll be there. I can do both."

"And then what? Back out here tomorrow night?" There was a definite snap in his tone.

Here we go.

"Depends on how Manny's kid's doing," I shrugged, although I knew if Manny's kid was fighting fit, I'd still find a way to be out here watching the parameter for Negan. Daryl probably knew it too.

"Naomi!" Daryl said my name with a growing sharpness. He was losing his battle to stay calm, but something about it opened a slight relief in me where I thought it would fill me with dread. "That ain't enough time to sleep."

This is it.

This is the fight that's been brewing for days.

"I'll be fine," I said. "I can catch some shuteye after this, but before we head out."

"That's what… two hours of sleep?"

"Three if I skip breakfast," I said without thinking. Daryl knew me too well to not be concerned by me voluntarily skipping a meal.

"You skipped breakfast this morning," he said. "Didn't see you at dinner, either."

"I ate. Quit worrying about me," I said. Something sharp and uncomfortable sat in my gut. My lungs tightened, and I had to look up at the vast expanse of the sky to stop feeling that the world was closing in. I didn't know he'd been watching so closely. Taking note of my every move when he should have been paying attention to this place.

"Pfft. Worrying about you is my full-time job," Daryl said. "Running this place is a breeze in comparison."

"Real nice."

It was the closest we'd come to arguing, yet it still didn't boil over into anything more. Instead, it dissolved into tense silence that we both refused to break. I could hear Daryl breathing hard through his nose, suppressing something. I'd have preferred it if he yelled at me.

"You're gonna make yourself sick living like this," he said eventually. "I can't stand by and watch it happen."

Goddamn it.

The concern that crept into his voice was enough to make me meet his gaze.

"It's only while Manny's kid's sick," I said, and it was the first time I'd considered meaning it, although Daryl didn't look like he believed me. There was a second where I thought this was it; this was the moment he'd finally snap and let all of his anger out. I could feel my own retorts start to rise up in anticipation. Things that had been left to fester for days. His sulking, monitoring of my every move, the crushing weight of being the only person in this place who was taking the threat of Negan seriously. Daryl would tell me how irresponsible I was being, how I was an idiot for trying to get close to any of the Saviors, and that it was achieving nothing but putting me in danger.

And then, when our voices hurt from yelling, we'd find an end. Either Daryl would come around, or I would, or we'd bend our iron wills just enough to meet halfway. That was our way, always had been.

But that wasn't how it went down.

Instead, Daryl took a breath so deep I could see his chest fill up with it, the things he wanted to say burning unspoken in his eyes. All he said was, "Fine."

"Fine," I heard myself say, all flat and emotionless like he had, but I was burning inside. Before either of us could say anything else, the rooftop door swung open, and Justin walked through with a steaming mug in each hand. Coffee - the luxuries Negan had managed to horde never failed to astound me. When we'd been returning ill-gotten food and supplies to the communities they'd been taken from, the Saviors had fought to keep the most bizarre shit. We were running low on necessities but still had shit like coffee, sugar, and cocoa beans. These people had it good for too long, had their basic needs met by the labor of other communities, and had forgotten the struggle of this new world. Come winter, they were in for a shock. Maybe Negan had been the only one among them with a brain cell.

"You're late," Daryl said. Justin had no idea what he'd just walked into. If he did, he might have considered being a little later. Or not showing up at all.

"Some of us got a long night ahead," Justin gave a smile and an answer I knew Daryl wouldn't like. "I thought I'd get some caffeine in for me and the boss-lady."

Justin held one of the mugs out to me. I took it without saying anything, trying to think of a way to warn Justin to keep his mouth shut and wipe the grin from his face.

"You're fucking late," Daryl said, not backing down.

"Didn't you hear I was getting some fucking coffee?" Justin retorted, either failing to read the room or not giving a shit. "For your girl, as well. Be grateful that someone's looking out for her, not staring at her all day, which is all you do."

My stomach clenched with the cold dread of knowing I wasn't the only one who'd noticed Daryl was preoccupied with keeping an eye on me. The Saviors had caught it too. And how would that look to them? I knew that Daryl might have wanted it that way, wanted them to see that I was protected. But what if it had the opposite effect? What if it made him look like he'd taken his eye off this place, and they'd be able to overthrow him?

Daryl's rage was immediate; his fist flew through the air. Justin's mug spun upwards, boiling hot coffee tipping toward him as he tried to leap out of the way. When he looked back up, Daryl was all up in his face.

"She don't need no fucking coffee," he said. "She needs the asshole who's supposed to be on watch with her to show up on time."

"Well, it's not like she was alone," Justin said, not the kind of guy to back down. "Not with you lurking around all the time like her damn prison warden. Ain't you got anything better to do than keep tabs on your lady?"

"I'm not-"

"What's the matter? Feeling threatened?"

"What? By a greasy prick like you?" Daryl narrowed his eyes. I knew Daryl too well to judge whether or not this would sound convincing to Justin. The list of people I'd seen Daryl have some kind of jealous minor freakout over was as long as it was absurd. And that was before he'd had to worry about Negan's most loyal men trying to kill me.

"Don't trust her then?"

"Trust her just fine," Daryl said, his fists clenched by his side. I knew this time when he raised one, it would be more than a mug it smashed into. Justin looked ready to strike back. "But you…-"

"Stop," I stepped between them, facing Daryl. He uncurled his fingers from the tight fist they'd formed and clenched them again. "Cool it. I'm sure Justin's sorry for being a little late. Right, Justin?"

When Justin didn't say anything, I shot him a look over my shoulder. Then, reluctantly, he said, "Yeah. Sorry for being late."

It didn't sound sincere, and it wasn't directed at Daryl, but we both looked back at him, waiting to see if he'd accept. Daryl wasn't looking at Justin; he was still looking at me. And he was still angry.

Okay, now.

Now he's going to fight with me because it looks like I took Justin's side.

But Daryl took another breath and said, "Fine."

It sounded anything but fine. Didn't feel fine, either. Daryl swallowed back whatever it was that he truly wanted to say and left through the rooftop door. I thought it would bring some relief, but it was the opposite. The knot that had been sitting in my stomach for a week tightened and grew heavier. It squeezed my guts as the door slammed behind Daryl.

Justin let out a low whistle. "Your man's a psycho."

I rounded on him, "You say anything like that about Daryl again, and I'll boot you off this roof."

He looked at me like he couldn't decide whether or not I was joking. I held his gaze, unsmiling until it was crystal clear. He looked away from me, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, muttering, "Alright, sorry.. fucking hell…."

I turned back to the forest, which didn't yield any of its secrets no matter how hard I scowled. The trees didn't part in a neat and convenient path to wherever Negan was holed up. Maybe he wasn't holed up in there anymore. He could have mounted a full-scale invasion while I'd been distracted with this bullshit. I put the mug of coffee down on the wall that ran around the top of Sanctuary's roof because if I didn't let go of it, I'd have thrown it off and listened to it shatter on the ground.

Justin stood next to me and said nothing.

Your man's a psycho.

I wanted to listen to him shatter, too.

There was a time when I'd have punched him straight in the mouth, but those times were behind us. Daryl was in charge of this place, and I had to have his back. Sometimes that would mean a fight, but right now, it meant keeping the peace. Peaceful Saviors kept us safe. Negan had ruled with fear; his cronies used violence to keep that fear in place. So if we were going to prove that we were different from Negan, we had to be different. Even if Daryl didn't see it that way yet.

I'm sure that was why he was so tense these days. And why he stuck by me like glue; he hated that I was cozying up to the Saviors, and he didn't see that I didn't like doing it.

"Thanks for the coffee," I said to Justin, although I could taste bile in the back of my throat. "Sorry that yours was… well, y'know."

"Yeah, I know," Justin looked at me like he was considering making another smartass comment about Daryl but thought better of it and looked away from me again.

I could have screamed. Justin had been a tough nut to crack. I could never tell if he respected me for what I'd done to Negan or if he was about to pull a knife on me and avenge him. But, the last few days, when he'd been forced to spend time with me, it really felt like I'd been making progress. If I hadn't been in the middle of a non-argument with Daryl, Justin's offering of coffee would have been a huge win. It would have made my goddamn night.

Unless he's poisoned it.

I slid the mug along the roof toward Justin. "Want it?"

"You don't?"

"I appreciate it, but I loaded up on caffeine before I came out," I said, and then swallowing back every ounce of resentment I was feeling, added, "Ain't your fault yours got ruined."

"No, it ain't," Justin said, with a hint of satisfaction that made me want to knock the second mug out of his hands. He drank and relaxed a little.

Not poisoned then.

That was something, at least. The mood was still sour but less aggressively hostile than before. I couldn't muster the energy to fix it, so I let it stay silent. Since Daryl had stormed out, the fight hadn't left me, but it had deflated, sunk down into my bones, and the exhaustion that had been buried there reared up. It soaked into my muscles and made my whole body feel heavier.

I yawned. I couldn't help it.

Daryl was right; I should've got more sleep.

Fuck off.

I couldn't deny that the sleepless nights were starting to get to me. My eyes felt permanently dry, itchy, eyelids heavy. Inhaling too much sparked an instant yawn. But, whenever I tried to sleep, no matter how beat I was when I lay down, I'd wind up staring at the ceiling for hours. Wide awake. Waiting for a disaster that never came. And in the daylight, I'd hate myself for not being more rested in case today was the day something happened that I needed to be alert for.

It didn't help that Daryl still had nightmares he wouldn't talk about. He thought I didn't know, but he'd wake with a jolt every night. I'd squeeze him tighter as he fell back asleep again, hoping that somehow it would seep into his sleep and keep him safe in his dreams. Maybe that was why his overprotectiveness grated on my nerves - its hypocrisy. He wasn't resting, so why the hell should I? Sometimes Daryl's protection felt like armor, but right now, it was a straightjacket.

At some point in the small hours of a long, uncomfortable morning, Ronnie, stationed on the East side of the building with Eugene, brought around an old shoebox filled with homemade taffy. Ronnie hated us non-Saviors, so the gesture surprised me, but then I couldn't imagine what kind of conversation he'd have with a guy like Eugene, so he probably needed a break. Even if it meant offering a sweet treat to a sworn enemy. It surprised me enough not to say anything about what a dumb use of our dwindling supplies this was.

Justin and I still hadn't spoken a word to each other since I'd given him my coffee, so I took a piece. A scrap of hope that the Saviors were warming to us or a sweetened cyanide pill to chew on, I was too tired to care. Justin declined. He and Ronnie chatted about a poker game I was pointedly not included in before Ronnie made his way over to the next group of lookouts. I waited until he was gone and then chewed the taffy in silence.

Or, at least, I tried to. The first bite stuck my teeth together so firmly that I thought it would be the last bite I ever took. Then, a muffled, alarmed 'rrmphf?' squeezed its way past the taffy and out of my mouth. Justin cackled like he knew that would happen.

Caught between laughter and blind panic, I tried to unstick my jaw so that I could tell Justin to shut up. Taffy tugged at my teeth, stuck so fast I thought for sure they'd be pulled from my gums. I prodded it with my tongue, hoping to get some of the sugar to melt. The harder I tried, the more Justin laughed. And when I tried to speak, he almost bent double.

Nice to know they don't want to poison me; they just want to shut me up.

When I thought it was safe enough to open my mouth without pulling out a tooth, I said, "This taffy is lethal."

"Yeah, why'd you think I didn't take any?" he laughed.

"How'd you know?"

"I share a room with that guy," he said. "I've made that mistake before. Trust me, you'll be pulling it out of your teeth for a month."

"Fucking hell, I believe you," I said, still too worried to shut my mouth entirely in case I never got it open again.

Justin eventually stopped laughing at me, and when he did, it became clear that this debacle had been enough to bring us both out of our shitty moods and return to being, well, not friendly, but… amicable. Which, given we'd been shooting at each other a few months ago, was fine by me.

I tried not to think about how long it had been. One day at a time was the key to surviving life in this place, but winter would be here before we knew it. It was still swelteringly hot in the middle of the day, but the nights were getting noticeably colder. The leaves were starting to change, which was a problem that couldn't be ignored. We'd wasted almost an entire summer at War, and our winter supplies would suffer for it. Hilltop could only share so much without starving itself.

On the furthest part of the horizon, where the treetops blurred into the night sky, a dark set of clouds unfolded toward us.

"Storm's coming," I said.

"You sure?" Justin asked, squinting at the dark mass in the distance that I'd nodded to. "Might be rain clouds."

I shook my head. "It's a storm."

Justin didn't say so, but I knew he was skeptical. So it was somewhat satisfying when there was a flash on the horizon no less than ten minutes later.

"Shit, you were right."

I tried not to look too smug, but I had no doubts. There's a change in the air when storm clouds are near. A charge. A promise of a break in the building humidity.

Whenever there was a storm back home, back when we were kids, Daryl and I would sit up on the top of our little hill and watch it spread over Atlanta. Thunderclaps above the fancy parts of town, where the sound of rain on their windows probably made them feel warmer and safer on their sofas. Where they probably closed the blinds and missed the way lightning forked across their heads. We'd stay there even as the light rain grew heavier, counting the miles between us and the storm. Then, we'd run and take shelter when the heavier rain turned into an angry downpour so thick and fast that part of you worried it might pierce your skin. If his Dad was out boozing, we'd go to his. If my Momma was working, we'd head to mine. Lights off, curtains open, and windows wide, we'd wait for it to pass overhead.

If we didn't have anywhere we could go, we'd move to the bottom of the hill and lie flat against the grass. Rain beating down on our faces, lightning searing the landscape for a fraction of a second, thunder rumbling so close I thought I felt the whole earth shake. It had felt a little like how I imagined the world would end before it really did, but it hadn't scared me. Not with Daryl lying right next to me.

I ached for him, and I wished he hadn't left, that he was here to see this. I wished we didn't have work to do. It was ridiculous to miss someone who was downstairs.

"Think it'll be here before sunrise?" Justin asked. I almost laughed, wondering if it was optimism or an inability to read the weather.

"It'll be on us in the hour," I said.

"No way," he said, but I don't think he doubted me anymore. Justin had finally relaxed again, and this was a peace offering. "Gotta be at least three. Wanna bet on it?"

"Sure. I'll bet you the rest of Ronnie's taffy," I said, pulling the remaining half out of my pocket.

"Hard pass."

The first few spots of rain hit us not long after the first flash. Something about it washed away the resentment that had been clinging to me for days. Then, another slightly louder but distant rumble stirred something close to excitement in my stomach. An echo of the same feeling I used to get when I was a kid.

"So, who were you?" I asked Justin to distract myself from thinking about Daryl. "Before all this?"

"A guy with a lot more say around here," he said. I thought I caught a wisp of annoyance and maybe something wistful in how he said it. "Nobody would have knocked my damn coffee out of my hands back then."

"I mean before that," I said, long enough had passed that I didn't feel the need to rise to his dig, but I couldn't resist adding, "Before you were an asshole."

Justin laughed a little at that. I thought for a minute that he was trying to think up another smart-ass answer, but then he seemed to think better of it and said, "Army."

I couldn't tell whether or not he was telling the truth. Most of the time, Justin seemed angry and full of bile, bad at taking any order Daryl had given him. On the other hand, he'd been good at taking them from Negan, so maybe he was only a poor soldier under certain leaders. Maybe his background was what made him particularly hostile to a takeover. I played it safe and said, "With that hair?" which earned me another smile.

"I'd grow it real long when I was on leave, have it cut short right before I was deployed again," he said. "I was on leave when all this happened. They tried to call us back when the cities were being evacuated, but I lost contact before they could give me my orders."

I think he started to tell me about where he'd been headed before the roads became impassable. But I can't be sure. I'd stopped listening. Something else had made my ears prick up. Goosebumps rose on my arms and up the back of my neck. I'm sure my heart was hammering a thousand miles an hour, but I couldn't hear it beating in my ears. I'd shut out every other noise and distraction before fully registering what I'd heard.

A whistle in the dark.

Not just any whistle.

That whistle.

The darkness hid everything. The wind in the trees covered any other noise. The forest looked no different from earlier in the night, but it was different. He was out there. And he was close. I couldn't tear my eyes away to glance at Justin as I whispered, "Did you hear that?"

"Could… be the wind?"" Justin said, but his voice faltered, unsteady.

I wanted to disagree, but I couldn't make a sound in case it happened again and I missed it. I stared into the darkness of the forest, searching for any sign of movement. Anything that wasn't a Walker. Any sound that wasn't the rain battering trees or the oncoming storm. Thunder rumbled, forks of lightning on the horizon, trees bent as the wind picked up - yet I remained suspended, caught between what I thought I'd heard and the anticipation of what I might hear again. It felt like seconds; it felt like years.

And then he whistled again. Unmistakable. Close.

It lit a fire in me, and I'd started running before the last, cold note had faded to nothing. I never thought I'd run toward that sound.

"Wait!" Justin yelled after me. "Wait!"

Fuck that.

I left him to raise the alarm and was at the top of the fire escape before he could say anything else. The rusting metal staircase shook against the building with the sheer force of my feet pounding against each rain-slicked step. In the distance, thunder rumbled, but the storm had quickly become the least of my worries. There were guards at the gates, who'd clearly been goofing around a little and straightened up when I came charging toward them, hollering at them.

I didn't stop to explain. They'd catch up. When Justin radioed for backup and woke more of the men, they'd all catch up. Waiting would give Negan time to melt into the darkness again. I sprinted the first few paces into the forest and slowed to get my bearings. My breath was heavy and shaky in my chest. Another roll of thunder shook the heavens, and I was annoyed by how close it sounded.

"Hey, Negan!" I yelled at the trees. "Show your face, asshole!"

A figure passed between two trees and stopped at the sound of my voice. Turned. From the way it listed slightly to the right, I thought it was probably a Walker. But I held off from moving against it. Who knows how injured Negan might be? Seconds later, a flash of lightning illuminated the forest with such force that I could see every fallen leaf, gnarled tree root, and rotten piece of flesh peeling from the Walker's face.

Damn it.

I pulled out a knife and took it out. If I hadn't been preoccupied with more pressing dangers, I might have been interested in how the sounds of the storm would distract Walkers. Confuse them, maybe. Usually drawn toward loud noises, would they end up following the storm? Or would it move too fast for the dead and leave them staring at the empty heavens?

I waited for the roll of the thunder that followed the lightning to pass before I called out again.

"C'mon out, Negan," I said. "We can end this now. Just you and me."

I knew there would only be a short window of time before that stopped being true. By now, Justin must have raised the alarm. He'd had time to radio the other lookouts, wake up our fighters. Daryl would be on his way.

Unless Justin did nothing.

A cold, hard pit of dread formed in my stomach. The adrenaline searing through my veins froze too. I'd trusted Justin to call for backup, but what if he didn't? What if he was in on this? What if he wanted to make sure I was on that roof to hear a whistle and run into the woods in the dead of night?

Like a fucking idiot.

I swallowed and tried not to let any fear show in my voice. I kept moving forward. If Negan was out here, watching me, I couldn't let him see that I was rattled.

"Rick wants us to bring you in alive. The War is over. We won. Ain't no sense in killing you and making you a martyr," I said. "You hand yourself in, and you can get a nice cozy cell in Alexandria. A roof over your head. Food. Can't be easy surviving out here alone."

Where the fuck is everyone?

Another Walker stumbled out in front of me, almost falling as it did. It could have tripped on a tree root, heading for me because I'd made too much noise. Or someone could've pushed it into my path to slow me down.

This was dumb.

I raised my knife, ducked when swiped for me, and leaped up to plant the blade in its skull. When I pulled out the knife, it fell to the floor in a second death. I barely noticed how heavy the rain was now, but it stuck my hair to my face and dripped into my eyes, blurring my vision. I stepped over the corpse.

This was really fucking dumb.

"It's a good deal, Negan," I called. I took my pistol out of its holster for the first time that night. "You know you ain't got the numbers for a fight."

Another burst of lightning lit up my surroundings for a fraction of a second. I thought I saw a figure not too far ahead of me dart behind a tree. Between us, there was what seemed to be a small clearing. When I was plunged into darkness, I couldn't see any shapes moving in the gloom. I headed toward it anyway.

"You turn yourself in peacefully, and all is forgiven."

Another peal of thunder sounded closer than before. And then, in the silence that followed it, I finally heard something else. Not another whistle. A word breathed between the rustling branches, in the heartbeat between lightning and thunder.

Just one word.

And it sounded like 'Lucille#.

My gun was heavy in my hands, a weighty reminder of Carl's point that Negan might be out here alone and unarmed. He might have managed to scrounge a knife or two, but a gun? Bullets? Those were in short supply outside of Sanctuary; Negan himself had ensured that.

I held out my gun like a sacrificial offering, lowering it to rest on the forest floor. I threw my knife down beside it.

"There," I said. "Now we've both got nothing. So come out here and talk. Just me and you."

For a long moment, there was nothing but relentless rain. Branches creaked in the canopy above me, and there was a continuous but ever-changing whisper that could have been the wind or oncoming Wallers. And then something different. Something that broke through the rest of it. The snap of a twig. As if someone might be about to step forward and take me up on my offer.

"Naomi!" The wind swept my name through the trees, but I knew it wasn't Negan. It was too angry and urgent. I glanced over my shoulder, back in the direction it had come from, and tried to gauge how long I had before the team from Sanctuary descended on us.

So Justin didn't set me up after all.

I wondered why I didn't feel more relieved about it. Torchlights pushing in from the edge of the forest sent the darkness retreating, and I couldn't shake the sinking feeling that Negan would make a silent retreat with them. I turned desperately back to the dark, searching the spot I thought I'd heard him.

"Negan, please," I said. "End this."

"The fuck is going on?" Daryl burst into the clearing behind me, ahead of the pack.

They'd had to wake him up. I could only tell by the way his hair was even more ruffled than usual. And he hadn't had time to grab a shirt; he'd just pulled his vest over his bare arms and chest. However, there wasn't a trace of sluggishness in how he moved. Any tiredness had been burned off as he raced over here. As he looked from me to my abandoned gun and back again, I couldn't see a hint of sleep in his eyes either.

He was mad as hell.

"The hell is your gun doing on the floor?" he snapped.

"He's here, Daryl," I whispered. "I know it."

I knew Daryl was the one person I could say that to who'd trust me implicitly. Who wouldn't make me feel as crazy as I probably sounded. He nodded; his angry eyes quit glaring at me and focussed on the dark. Shifting like a hunter who knows prey is nearby. I'd seen him get this way so many times before, unbreakable tunnel vision until he caught what he was looking for. I could feel the chances of bringing Negan in peacefully dwindling to almost zero.

"Pick it up," Daryl snarled.

"What?" I was so shocked that I couldn't think what he was talking about. I'd never seen his concentration slip before. Usually, he barely spoke when he was like this.

"The gun, Naomi!" his words were venom and fire. "Pick it up."

Yup. That's it. Zero chance Negan's making it out unscathed.

I bent down. It might have been stupid to put it down, but the cool of the metal against my palms again felt like a mistake. Undoing any progress that I might have been making. It wasn't until I'd straightened up again, gun in hand, that Daryl looked away from me.

"Did you see him?" Daryl's focus was back.

"No. But I heard him."

"The whistle?"

"Yes."

"Anything else?"

"It happened twice."

"Yeah, I've been filled in," he snapped. "Anything since then?"

"I thought…" I hesitated. Now that Daryl was here, I doubted what I'd heard.

"What, Naomi?" he snapped.

"I thought I heard him ask for Lucille."

Daryl was silent for a moment, calculating. Well-trained eyes scanned the dark over and over again. My ears strained for any sound of Negan, but the footsteps flooding from Sanctuary into the woods covered any sound of him. Within a few moments, we were surrounded by people looking to Daryl for guidance.

"Alright. Spread out, move forward," he told them. "We think Negan might be close. You find him…."

He hesitated for just a moment. I knew he wanted to give the order to kill on sight. He glanced over at me, and I shook my head. Daryl sighed, nostrils flaring in frustration.

"If you find him, bring him in," he said. And then, because he couldn't help himself, added, "If he attacks, shoot to kill."

I raised my gun again and took a step toward where I thought I'd heard a twig snap underfoot. I didn't get far. Daryl's arm flew out of the dark and stopped me in my tracks.

"What?" I froze. Had he spotted Negan already? Had I been about to step into some kind of trap?

"Not you," Daryl snapped at me. My heart damn near dropped out of my chest.

"What?"

"Go back to Sanctuary," he said. "You're done here."

No.

NO.

Not when we're so close.

I didn't move. Neither of us did. Daryl stared me down, waiting for me to blow up at him. I could feel it burning in my lungs, clawing at my ribcage. But I could also sense everyone around us slowing too. They were waiting to see how this played out. We had our allies here, but most of these folks were ex-Saviors. How would it look if the new guy in charge of them couldn't get those closest to him to listen? If I ignored him, why the hell should any of them listen?

I turned, and although everything in me was screaming not to go, I went without a second glance. More people poured in from Sanctuary, streaming past me.

He won't show himself to anyone else.

It was a completely irrational thought, and I had nothing to back it but a gut feeling that the more people we sent into these woods, the further back Negan would withdraw. One on one, I felt like I could have got him to come in. Or at least goaded him into showing his fucking face.

"Hey, you were right," Justin said as he passed me. My heart dropped. Right about what? Had he seen Negan? Or did he already know he was out there because he'd been working with him?

"What?"

"The storm," he glanced up at the swirling clouds above us, rolling shades of black that blotted out the stars. "It's almost right over us."

I wanted to believe it was nothing more than that. But when Justin smiled, it was all teeth. My jaw was clenched too tight to say anything back. Justin kept running, and I arrived back to find Sanctuary eerily quiet.

What if he's already here?

Now everyone's attention was on the woods Negan could have walked through the front door as easily as I'd just done. Still smarting from my showdown with Daryl, I headed up to our room, where I'd be able to get a good view of the forest beneath us.

I went slow, listening for anything that didn't sound right, looking for anything out of place. In the corridor to our room, something clicked softly in the silence. Mia's door creaked open, just a crack. One eye peered tentatively through it. When she saw me, she opened the door wider.

"What's happening?" she asked. Sanctuary was quiet now, but I could imagine the commotion when someone had come to wake Daryl. Mia shouldn't have opened the door. She should have stayed locked in there until Daryl and I came to get her. She knew that. We'd been over it a million times.

I felt a flicker of hot rage and wanted to yell at her. But I knew most of the anger burning in my chest wasn't because of her. It wouldn't be fair to take it out on her. And she looked so scared. Her fear took the same shape as mine; Terminus had taught us that there was no such thing as a safe bed. All of that noise and then nothing but silence. I couldn't blame her for opening the door.

"It's nothing," I said. "We thought we saw something in the woods, but it was a false alarm."

"Really?" Mia didn't look like she believed me.

"Would I be here if it wasn't?" I said.

"I guess not," she admitted. She studied my face a little longer, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "Just tired."

It wasn't a lie. Exhaustion had settled so deeply into my bones I didn't know if I'd ever be able to get it out again. It was etched so firmly in the bags under my eyes that Mia accepted it as an excuse for why I might seem off tonight.

"You have been working a lot," she said, and a moment of worry flickered across her face. For a second, she looked younger. She looked like the little kid who'd get out of bed for a glass of water and then hover nervously by my laptop when she realized I'd been working the whole time she'd been in bed.

"I know," I said. I pulled her into a hug. "It's not for long. Just until this place is up and running."

I'd said it so many times I'd lost count. The more I said it, the more it sounded like a lie, but tonight she nodded. Tonight, we both needed to believe it. I squeezed her tighter than usual.

All I want is to give you a good life.

She squeezed me back like she knew.

"Don't open the door again unless you know it's one of us," I told her.

"I knew it was you," Mia said indignantly.

"No, you didn't."

"Did too! I know the way you walk."

It wasn't a robust enough verification process for my liking, "Well, next time, don't open it unless you hear our voices. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I know the storm's loud, but it'll pass soon, so try and get some sleep," I let go of her; although a part of me didn't want to, I knew she was reaching the threshold of embarrassing-sister hugs.

"You need it more than I do," she muttered and then shot me a nervously cheeky grin, hoping I wasn't about to yell at her. I smiled to let her know we were good, and she shut the door. I waited until I heard the lock. I waited some more and gently pushed my shoulder against it, ensuring it wouldn't budge.

When I opened the door to my bedroom, I half expected Negan to be in there already. Stepping out from somewhere with his shit-eating grin and a comment about how he could pack everything he owned into the bags under my eyes. But the room was dark and empty. I didn't bother turning on the lights. Instead, I crossed to the window and watched pinpricks of light flickering in and out between the trees.

There was a reason Mia had given me the same look she had when I'd worked too much in the old days. Back then, when I found a story I thought could really be something, one that kept me up all night and consumed every waking thought, people hadn't always listened. My editors brushed off some stories as unimportant or told me there was nothing there, so I'd worked them alone alongside my other assignments. I'd followed every lead, tracked down people who'd held secrets for years and convinced them to trust me. I'd submitted countless freedom of information acts to get documents declassified and run every tiny detail past fact-checkers and lawyers until I had something that proved my bosses wrong.

The same gnawing gut instinct told me that Negan was out in the woods, watching us. Waiting for us to fail. And Rick might have brushed it off, but I knew it in a way I couldn't explain, so I took every nightshift I could. I went on every scavenging mission, every patrol of the woods, searching for any sign of life in a world of the living dead. I needed people to respect me enough not to kill me for maiming their previous leader, to trust me enough that they might confide in me if they knew where Negan was. But, Negan wasn't a story. He was flesh and bone and out for blood. I couldn't cover every inch of ground alone. It wasn't the same work; it needed a different approach.

I rested my head against the window. It was raining so hard that water came down the pane in a river, distorting everything beyond it. Blurred figures ran out of the forest and toward Sanctuary. I knew they hadn't found him. The storm had closed in, and it wasn't safe to be out there. Daryl had sent them all back, and we were out of time.

I counted the seconds after the next lightning flash, waiting for the thunder to boom above me and cover the scream of frustration that tore right out of me when I let it. "Fuck!"

When it was safe, I knew we'd go back out there, and Negan would be back in the hideout he'd used to evade us for months. Moments later, Daryl was heading back to our room. I knew it was him. I knew by the way he walked. I looked out into the hall to see him storming down the corridor. Anger flashed in his eyes again when he saw me.

"Before you start," he muttered. "I had to turn them all back. That storm could've brought a tree down on 'em. I had to-"

"Yeah, I know how storms work," I said. It annoyed me more than it should that Daryl had forgotten that everything he knew about storms, we'd learned right next to each other.

"Didn't find him," he said. He wasn't slowing. I backed away from the door as he got closer.

"Yeah, I guessed," I said. "But Negan's out there, I know it."

"I don't give a shit what you know," Daryl said. His shadow loomed in the doorway. Behind me, a flash of lightning lit up the room. "What the fuck was that?"

Daryl slammed the door behind him so hard it shook on its hinges, so hard I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd sealed us in. The boom echoed in the hallway. And in my head. I tried to ignore it.

"What the fuck was what?"

"You run off into the night by yourself, don't wait for any fucking backup, and when I find you, you've got your gun on the goddamn ground?!" He yelled so loud I felt like the walls were shaking. So loud I think I missed the next thunderclap, or maybe he was just so damn mad that it didn't dare interrupt him.

"I was trying to… I thought if Negan saw that I wasn't going to… that I didn't…." I'd been so sure of my decision when I'd made it, when I thought I could get Negan to come out if we were facing each other with nothing but our fists. But now that Daryl was demanding answers, that certainty shrank inside me. I shrank too. Or maybe Daryl grew, swelling in his anger.

"Fucking what, Naomi?" he yelled, frustrated that I couldn't even form a damn sentence in my own defense. I'd been waiting for this moment, where we'd finally have it out with each other, but now that it was here, I couldn't make a sound. Couldn't move. Daryl, on the other hand, couldn't seem to stop moving. Pacing. He raised his fists to the wall but never let himself strike.

"That was so stupid. Running off like that…." Daryl shook his head. In disbelief or anger, I couldn't tell. "You ain't that dumb. You ain't. But one whistle from him, and you go running?"

My heart had doubled in size and was now lodged in my throat, blocking my windpipe. My eyes stung.

"I know," I said, my voice sounding small in the shadow of all of his anger and the rage of the storm outside. "It was dumb. I didn't think…. I'm sorry."

Daryl wasn't expecting me to give in so quickly, and his rage went nowhere without anything to fight against. Damp hair stuck to his face, rainwater glistened on his arms as he raised them. His fists were clenched, and I knew he wanted to hit something. The last thing we needed was a fist-shaped hole in the wall, but I found it difficult to say anything.

"You don't ever pull shit like that again. You hear me?" he said, teeth gritted, jaw clenched. I nodded. He reached for me like he was about to touch me but then pulled back like he'd realized I was poison. My heart ached.

Say something, damn it.

But I couldn't deny that what I'd done had been reckless. Couldn't defend anything. I couldn't say a damn word. The way he'd slammed the door echoed. Not in the hallway, but deep inside me, and it had rattled something loose.

For a second, I wasn't really there. I was four years old and wondering if my Daddy knew I existed and, if he did, why he didn't want to know me. I was seven and sitting in a parking lot while my Momma shot up in the back of some guy's car. I was nine, and Momma told me I shouldn't have called an ambulance when she passed out because they might take me into care and nobody else could ever want me. I was eleven, and she left for four days without a note. I was sixteen, and she was gone for weeks. Then, I was nineteen again, standing in a dorm room after my only real friend in the world had stormed out.

Does he look angrier than he was that night?

Daryl paced back and forth; each step took him further away or made me smaller. Wind howled around the building, shaking the windows. I was hollow, empty, and it howled through me like a scream. There was only one thought in my head, the same one I'd had all those years ago. It echoed through the years to reach me now. Please don't go.

I hadn't been thinking about kissing him; I'd just wanted him to stop. Stop yelling, stop moving, stop moving away. But before I could do or say anything else, I could taste his lips on mine, the rage on his tongue. He could probably taste the desperation on mine, something I wasn't used to feeling and didn't much like myself for. I feared he'd be as repulsed by it as I was and push me away. But he didn't. He kissed me so hard it sent us both stumbling back against the wall.

Thunder cracked. Frustrated fingers tugged at my clothes, I heard my shirt tear before it came off. I didn't care. Everything I was melted for him; why should the clothes on my back be any different? I pushed his leather vest off his shoulders to the ground, he stopped kissing me, and I hated it.

He pinned me to the cold wall with the heat of his body, his hands, his stare. The burn of his anger. My own anger was gone, extinguished by fear. He was fire, and all that was left of me was smoke, only real because he was. "I am trying to protect you."

"I know," I said because I did and because any argument I had about being able to protect myself didn't feel as important as the fact that he'd stopped kissing me. It seemed that way to him too. He tried to resist it, his lips inches from mine, looking like he had something else to say but couldn't get the words out.

Please don't pull away from me.

Not now.

Daryl caved, his kiss deeper than before, and my bra joined our growing pile of clothes on the floor. His usual hesitant gentleness had been burned away. He was raw power and heat, and every nerve in my body came alive for it. Kisses blazed across my skin in a haze of lips, tongue, and teeth toward my navel. A sharp tug on my pants took them and my underwear down in one go. He might have broken the zipper, but I couldn't care less. Right then, I was just glad to be rid of them. To be closer to him.

I expected him to stand back up, but he didn't. Instead, Daryl knelt in front of me, his hands and lips on my thighs. I looked down at him, torn between the heady sensations of his touch and awe that I felt no more hesitations about him being so close to my scars. He paused where my thighs met and looked up, "I wanna take care of you."

"I know."

"Then let me," Daryl's hands gently nudged my thighs apart, and I let them. The room lit up, lightning flooding through the rain-streaked window. Daryl's tongue between my thighs ignited me. A flame of pleasure lapped at my core, and my back arched against the wall involuntarily. I almost slipped. Daryl's hair between my fingers, his hands gripping my thighs to keep me steady, and standing as the heat building in me threatened to take me down.

This man could destroy me.

Sure, Negan might put a bullet in my head, maybe torture me a little, but Daryl…? He could tear my heart and soul to shreds with a few words. With the slam of a door. He could unravel me as quickly as he'd undressed me, as easily as he was making my knees tremble now. I looked down at him, his head between my thighs, and my heart still ached. I needed him closer.

"Daryl…." I whimpered. He looked up at me, and when our gaze met, I saw desire and anger burn in equal measure. It was a relief to see that hate wasn't in there; it wasn't anywhere close.

I need you.

I couldn't say it out loud, but he knew. His belt buckle clinked as he unfastened it. Without looking away from me, he stood up to his full height. I heard the soft thud of his pants falling around his ankles. One of Daryl's hands ran slowly, lightly, down my body from my collarbone to my hip. The other one cupped my face, keeping my eyes on his. I shivered, although my skin felt embarrassingly flushed with heat. His hand reached and skimmed across the back of my thigh. I wanted to wrap my leg around his hip. But I knew we couldn't, not yet.

"We should…. I'll…" I stumbled over my words, my desire for him so big I could hardly get any out. My head felt foggy with it.

"Mmm-hmm," he nodded. Licked his lips. I swallowed down the urge to be impulsive and reckless. Daryl didn't move, leaving me to pull away from him and walk the short distance to where we'd stashed the condoms. Every step away from him felt like a betrayal of my own body, and I couldn't stand how far away he was, even when he was on the other side of the room. And then, as I reached into the box, I felt him behind me. His warmth at my back, hands on my hips running across my stomach and up to cup my breasts. He kissed the back of my neck and across my shoulder blades. It was so distracting that I could barely get the wrapper open.

I turned back to Daryl. Naked in the moonlight, his back turned to the howling storm, tattooed, scarred, perfect. His eyes were on me.

Always on me.

There's not a smile I can plaster on my face that he can't see right through to the truth of. Daryl was the only person here who'd look at my relentless hunt for Negan as something not borne out of revenge, fearlessness, or even guilt. He saw it for what it was; fear. Daryl saw me for who I was, and he still wanted me. He was already kissing me so deeply that it vanquished all thoughts of Negan and his bullshit back to the shadows where they belonged. I felt my back hit up against the wall again before I'd had a chance to slip the condom onto him. I fumbled with it a little and had to break our kiss so I could concentrate. Daryl was no help, leaving a hot trail of kisses on my neck.

When I finally got it on him, I hooked one leg around his waist and guided him inside me with an urgency we both felt. I heard him groan and closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around his neck and breathing in his smell as he started slowly fucking me against the wall. His arms held me tightly to him. I felt his chest rise and fall in heavy breathing against mine as he surrounded me, filled me. My hand fisted in his hair, the other trailed across his back and shoulders. I lingered over his scars. I'd been so caught up in my own fears of him leaving that I hadn't thought about how this fight might have rattled him. How me running out into the dark on my own would shake him when people had left him too. How he might have felt to see me unarmed and on my own. After everything he'd lost, he was letting me into parts of himself he'd never shown to anyone, never explored himself.

I looked at him with an intensity he might not have understood, but I hoped he felt. "I love you."

I'm not leaving you.

I could never.

I think he got it, and although he was surprised to hear that at that moment, I think he liked it. A deep grunt in the back of his throat, his jaw clenched just for a moment, his arms tightened around me. "I love you."

Daryl took hold of the leg that wasn't wrapped around him and lifted it off the floor.

"I got you," he whispered as he lifted me up. "I got you."

I don't know if he said it to reassure me when I slipped a little against the stone wall of Sanctuary before I squeezed both of my legs around his waist. Or because my fingers were digging into his back. Not because I didn't trust him to hold me up, but because I didn't think I could ever let him go.

Daryl

Naomi finally slept.

Wrapped in a blanket, mussed up curls spread over the pillow, she looked peaceful for the first time in far too long. The relief that hit me was harder than a physical blow. I wanted to crawl over to her, curl my body around hers and shield her from the approaching day until she was ready to face it. But instead, I slowly pulled the curtain across the window. Every time it squeaked against the rail, I turned to check she hadn't stirred. It was stupid to hope that the sun would come up before something else kicked off and woke her. But I had to try and force some distance between it and her. What kind of man would I be if I didn't?

Even with the curtains shut, and even though I'd only just managed to untangle my body from hers, I still felt that deep pull toward her when I turned around again. To wrap her up in my arms, bury my face in her hair and breathe her in. Another part of me wanted to pull the sheet back and kiss her neck, feel the fear and the stress flow right out of her.

If I'd known years ago that I could watch the tension ebb out of her body under my fingertips by running my hands across her back, her hips…. If I'd known that one kiss was enough to stop the constant whirring thoughts behind her eyes and replace them with a look that told me all she saw was me…. You best believe I'd have made a move so much sooner.

I resisted because waking her up wasn't an option and dressed as quietly as possible. If she so much as stirred, she might start to remember what was going on. If she didn't, if she leaned into me and murmured softly in my ear that she loved me, that would be game over for me. I wouldn't be able to get up and get back out there and do what needed to be done for Naomi to always rest like this. I needed to take the temptation off the table, so I left as quietly as I could and waited for a few minutes after the door closed to make sure she wasn't about to come scrambling out of bed looking for something else to fight.

Naomi's always been a tightly wound ball of anxiety about something of another. It crackles off her like electricity, so most people mistake it for drive or ambition or something, and maybe that's how it ends up, but it starts out as fear. The fear of failing and staying stuck where we'd started had been snapping at her heels for so long that she'd forgotten what it's like not to be running from something. She forced herself never to look back at it, and now she can't see she made it, that it's all so far behind her now. Every time she leaped over one hurdle, she replaced it with a new fear to keep herself running. Like she's a shark, she'll die if she stops moving. Or the people around her will.

There was a window at the end of the corridor, looking out onto the forest. I walked over and looked out. The rain was starting to let up, fading to a non-intrusive patter on the glass. Even it knew my girl needed this moment of quiet. Storms always made me think of her and lying out in them - two kids who'd rather be electrocuted together than face going home alone.

She probably doesn't even remember that.

Probably saw better storms in DC from some penthouse apartment, high up and safe with the best view.

I knew I should get a group out now that the storm was dying, but people down there would be looking at me for a plan. Instructions. Still wasn't used to people staring at me and expecting something. All those eyes were on me. Didn't feel right. Standing out in the hall felt right. With Naomi safe behind one door, Mia safe behind the other, and me in the middle: keeping it that way.

Footsteps echoed at the other end of the hall; they sounded way too urgent. In the gloom, Jerry greeted me with his usual warm smile. The most cheerful thing about this fucking place. He started to say, "Are we-"

"Keep your voice down," I hissed, nodding to Mia and Naomi's doors. "They're sleeping."

"Shit, sorry," Jerry said, much quieter, but he still hurried toward me at a pace that made me want to hurl. "We heading back out there? The storm's passed, and I was due to take a group out this morning. No reason we can't make it earlier, especially given what's happened."

"Yeah," I nodded. "I'll come with you."

"Shouldn't we…?" Jerry gestured toward the door Naomi was sleeping behind. I could still smell her sweat on my skin, the way it mixed with mine.

"You wake her up; I'll kill you."

Jerry backed away. He smiled, and then it faltered a little when he couldn't decide if my mild death threat was a joke or not. Not sure I could either.

You have no idea what I had to do in there to tire her out.

Thankfully, before we had to find out the lengths I was willing to go to for Naomi's sleep and sanity, Jerry decided to play it safe. "Alright then."

I nodded, and we headed down the corridor, away from my girls, to get back out and search the woods. I didn't like leaving with Naomi's door unlocked, but I knew if I woke her up so that she could lock it, she wouldn't go back to bed. She'd want to be out searching, and I wasn't sure I had it in me to send her away again. It had been a miracle that she'd listened the first time.

"Do you really think she heard him?" Jerry asked on the staircase.

"She heard his whistle."

"Yeah, but do you think it was him?" Jerry asked. Every asshole in this place knew and could make that whistle. I could have stood out in the dark and made the same whistle, and I doubt she'd have known it wasn't him.

"Maybe."

"You doubt her?" he asked.

Never.

"Don't doubt what she heard, but… there's too many damn Saviors around here," I said, although I wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. I couldn't finish the thought. It made me too angry. Some asshole Saviors pulling this shit, laughing at Naomi while she slowly lost her mind.

I never should've let her come to this place.

"Should we call Rick?" Jerry asked.

"Uh… maybe," I said. The thought hadn't occurred to me. "It can wait until it's at least daylight. Unless we actually see Negan, there ain't much to report."

I couldn't work out the smartest play. Rick should probably know, but would running to him at the slightest sign of trouble make me look weak to the people I'd been told to keep in line? Like I couldn't handle it by myself?

Maybe I can't.

Jerry rounded up his group. A few of them glanced over in my direction, uneasy that I was tagging along.

Good.

There was still a light haze of rain in the air when we headed out. I doubted our sweep of the woods would turn up anything useful. The storm had given Negan time to slip away. If it was him. If it was someone else, some Saviors trying to drive us out, the chaos of the night would have given them the perfect cover to rejoin the group running back into Sanctuary for shelter. It had also obliterated any sign of either Negan or someone pretending to be him. Branches had come down, and any footprints would be flooded. Mud stuck our feet to the ground as we traipsed over it. It was difficult not to feel like this was pointless. Most of the people searching were Saviors; I didn't know how many of them would turn Negan over even if he punched them in the face. And then, just when I thought we wouldn't find anything, a call rang out down the line.

"Found something you should see," Jerry approached me, unusually serious.

"Is it him?"

"No," he said, and part of me was relieved, part of me wasn't. I hoped Negan was dead, but I wanted to find confirmation of that soon before not knowing drove Naomi crazy. I knew if we didn't find out one way or the other, she'd never stop looking over her shoulder for him. Never stop thinking about him.

I hated how much she thought about him.

I know how crazy that sounds because it's not like she's thinking about him in any way I needed to worry about. But it still drove me crazy that he was in her head all the damn time when all I ever wanted to think about was her.

Probably why I have no idea what I'm doing in this place.

Jerry beckoned me over, and I followed him deeper into the woods. The Saviors we passed turned to look at us as we walked, and I wondered how many of them knew what we were walking toward. Noticed that some of them didn't seem to be looking so hard for anything at all. Finally, we reached a clearing smaller than the one Naomi had laid her gun down in.

"What am I looking at?" I asked. It was a slightly dumb question because it was obvious that I was looking at a plate balanced on top of something on top of a tree stump.

Jerry pointed at the remnants of food on the plate - something that might once have been a mashed potato from Hilltop and the end of a Kingdom carrot.

"We served that two days ago," Jerry said.

"So… someone's been bringing food out here?"

"Looks like it."

I didn't ask why and Jerry didn't offer up any explanation. Neither of us wanted to hear or say that someone in Sanctuary had been bringing things out here for Negan. I knew there had to be another explanation for it, a reason that someone from Sanctuary might not want to eat in the big hall with everyone else. Hell, I hated how busy and noisy that place was, and if I thought I could get away with sneaking out to eat in the woods on my own, I'd have been out there too. But that explanation didn't hold a lot of weight. I thought the cold light of day might reveal everything that happened the night before to be less dire, but now this turned the shadows Naomi had been chasing solid. It was like looking under your bed for the boogeyman and finding claw marks on the floorboards.

I didn't want to touch anything. It was all too neat, too carefully placed. I'd have expected a plate that had been out there for two days to have rainwater on it from the storm; the amount that had come down should've washed away any leftovers. But there wasn't so much as a puddle. Didn't look like any animals had been at it, either. Scraps of food would have attracted them. Cutlery laid neatly on the plate without being nudged by a passing Walker. Neat. Like someone would leave it at a fancy restaurant. Like they'd gone to take a leak and would be right back.

Fuck this.

It's easy to feel like you're being watched in the woods. There are a lot of eyes out there that could be looking at you. Including whichever psycho left this here, probably to mess with us. I picked up the plate and found there was a book underneath to help keep it level on the tree stump. Light blue hardback with 'Wuthering Heights' in silver letters on the front. I hesitated and then picked it up, although it felt like a trick. It's probably how a mouse feels when it reaches for the cheese before the trap snaps its neck.

We found this because someone wanted us to.

I looked at Jerry and knew he was thinking the same. I also knew he was looking to me for a plan. Other than starting to cut pieces off of Saviors who might know something, I was fresh out of ideas. It was tempting but not an option if Rick and Naomi had anything to do with it.

What would Naomi do?

"Spread out and keep searching the area," I told Jerry. "I'm gonna take these back, see who might know anything about it."

Jerry nodded and moved to pass the latest instructions to his group. He didn't seem to question it, or me, or think it was a bad idea. Maybe Jerry was keeping his doubts to himself. Maybe he thought, just like I did, that it was dumb to search an area that someone so clearly wanted us to be looking at. Even if we looked in the right places, there were too many Saviors on the search team to trust the information that came back to us. If he was thinking any of that, he kept it to himself. Happy enough to follow my orders. Was that all there was to leading people? Acting like you know what you're doing until they believe it?

I knew I'd have to wake Naomi. But I didn't want to, and the whole walk back to Sanctuary, my feet felt like stone.

I set what we'd found out in the hallway before opening the door. The room was still pretty dark when I entered. I half expected Naomi to wake up as the door opened. Usually, she's a pretty light sleeper. Terminus had been overthrown while most everyone was in bed. Men had come in the night and taken everything from her. She'd clawed it back, but the shadow still stalked her.

No wonder she ain't sleeping.

The door closed behind me without waking Naomi, and I still couldn't muster the will to wake her myself. I stepped over where her shirt lay crumpled on the floor, and my heart flipped in my chest. Something about it looked wrong. I stooped to pick it up and found it torn, almost clean in two.

Shit. Was that me?

I knew it was, although it looked like an animal had been at it. As I looked at it, felt the material in my hands, I could hear the rip that I'd ignored when it happened because I'd been so wrapped up in Naomi that I'd barely heard it. I looked at it and felt like something in me was torn, too.

I'd been rougher than usual. I hadn't meant to be, hadn't known it at the time; something took hold of me. It had taken hold of me in those woods when I'd stumbled on her laying down her gun. I'd been so mad, mad enough to hit something, smash something. So angry I couldn't see straight. And then I tasted her on my lips, and whatever had a hold on me gripped tighter. Dug in. Hungry claws and teeth. And the only thing that would satisfy it was her. It turned me into something I didn't recognize.

Naomi rolled over in her sleep, and my heart damn near stopped. The skin on her back was red; little grazes crisscrossed her shoulder blades. My stomach flipped and sank right down, leaving a dark, cold space where it had been. A creeping chill spread through me from it. My mind spun over, trying to find a reason she might have been marked in that way that had nothing to do with me.

I couldn't find one. Couldn't remember seeing those marks on her when she'd had her back to me, didn't remember tasting them when I kissed her shoulders. Maybe I'd been too caught up in how her body had reacted to mine. How she'd been so distracted that her fingers had fumbled at the edges of the condom wrapper. How when she turned to me at that moment, she'd been utterly and completely mine.

And I hurt her.

I couldn't find another explanation for the new marks on her back. It must have been something I'd done. I'd struggled to keep my cool before she kissed me, and I hadn't been able to control myself after that. Guilt threatened to overwhelm me, silence me. Soon it would sour and turn to anger at myself, which always came with the risk I'd take it out on someone else. I reached out and brushed the hair back from her face, leaned forward, and kissed her forehead to wake her up.

She should run.

Naomi always woke up the same way, no matter how our day started. Her whole body tensed, ready for anything. When she first opened her eyes, they darted around for the first sign of danger. It took a second or two for her to realize that she was safe, and then her eyes would land on me, and everything would change, soften. She'd smile at me in a way that made waking up worth it no matter where we were, and I'd pray for the day she could wake up without any fear.

That morning was no different, but when she gave me that smile and a soft, "Hey," it hurt. I knew I didn't deserve it. In a fair world, she'd be looking at someone else that way. Someone who matched up to that kind of love.

"Hey," I said, and she could immediately tell something was wrong. She sat up, hair falling around her shoulders. It's unfair how pretty she is when she's just woken up. How's a guy supposed to think straight?

Naomi had no trouble focussing. "What's happened? Is it him? Did you-"

"We haven't found him," I said. She opened her mouth to say something else, but I cut her off, pre-empting what she'd been about to say. "I got people out there. We're still looking."

"Okay," she said and knew she wanted to go out and join them but was trying to play it cool as she got up and reached for some fresh clothes.

"What happened last night…." I said. "It can't happen again."

"I know it was dumb to put my weapon down, Daryl," she said, shaking out a pair of jeans before pulling them on. "I can't really explain it. I just…"

"Not that," I said. I wished she'd slow down. "After that."

She looked at me then, baffled. I didn't know how else to say it. Guilt was eating me up, swallowing my words before I could get them out, leaving Naomi to guess as she plucked her bra off the floor, "You mean… arguing? I know... it made me feel… but arguments happen, and we can't-."

"No," I said. "After."

"Oh," she said, eyes widening slightly. "You mean sex?"

When she looked around for a shirt, I noticed she skipped the one on the floor, and I wondered if she already knew I'd ripped it. If she'd been scared when I did. My throat dried up. I swallowed, "I mean sex… like that."

"Oh," Naomi looked slightly relieved. Although, when she worked out what had happened, how disgusting I was, she probably wouldn't want to come within ten feet of me. "Okay. Sorry, I thought you were into it. I didn't realize you were having a bad time."

For God knows what reason, Naomi started looking like she had something to feel guilty for. Everything about it made me mad, "You thought I liked that? That's what you think of me?"

Naomi leaned away a little, and I was too heated to tell whether she was taken back or because I repulsed her. I should. I repulsed myself.

"It really wasn't that…" she cast around for the right word, "... deviant. I know I might have… done a bit more… but against a wall isn't so-"

"I hurt you," I said. "And you think I liked that?"

She looked at me like I was speaking a language she'd never heard of. "You didn't hurt me."

"I did."

"No," she said. "You didn't."

"I did."

"I think I'd know if I was hurt."

"Look," I picked up a long mirror propped against the wall. Naomi had brought it in here when we'd decided this was where we would be sleeping, and I hadn't understood it at first. She wasn't exactly one for preening. But then I'd found a bunch of knives she'd hidden around the room in places you wouldn't think to look in, and I remembered she'd taken Negan out with a shard of broken glass from a mirror he'd thrown her against, and I'd realized she was turning our room into an arsenal. Just in case. So focused on the monsters outside her door, she hadn't stopped to think she might be sleeping with one.

When I put the mirror down behind her, I knew she'd finally see it. She knelt down in front of it and looked over her shoulder at the reflection of her back. She frowned. Not the kind of frown I was expecting, not angry, more curious than that. She reached one arm across her shoulders and touched one of the marks on her back. Naomi didn't flinch, but I felt like I was about to hurl. "Daryl, that's from the wall. It's not from you."

"It's because of me," I said, frustrated. Naomi ain't dumb, and it was maddening she couldn't see things my way. "I should've-"

"No," she cut me off.

"The bed was right there, and I-"

"No," she cut across me again, pulling a shirt over her head so I couldn't see it anymore. I still knew it was there, and it made the scars on my own back itch. "Hey, if you didn't like it for your own reasons, that's fine. But don't ban something because you think I feel a certain way about it. I was having a great time. I'd tell you if I wasn't, and I'd tell you if you were hurting me."

"I didn't check in with you. I didn't ask to touch you… I just-"

"You'd have known," she said. "If I was uncomfortable, you'd have known."

"I should've-"

"Hell, most of the time, you know before I do if I'm not okay," she said like I hadn't even spoken. She was more than a little agitated. "Or if I'm about to be not okay. You've slowed things down, or stopped, so many times because you know… and I don't how you know, but you do, and I… you know me."

She said it like it was a bad thing and not the greatest honor of my life. Naomi fell quiet. She wouldn't look at me, and I couldn't tell if she was upset or mad. And I couldn't tell if she was mad at herself or me. Sometimes, she'd get frustrated when we had to stop, even though it wasn't her fault and there wasn't anything wrong with it. I shouldn't have brought it up now, shouldn't have made her think about it. I knelt down next to her.

"Ain't nothing special," I said. "Anyone would know that you weren't..."

"No, they wouldn't," she said, and I knew from how she said it that there was no convincing her otherwise. I thought about trying to explain the way her muscles froze up. The look in her eye that told me she was only half in the room. It seemed so obvious to me when that fear was about to try and take her under, but maybe she was right. I'd spent my whole life fighting off anything that might hurt her that I was extra vigilant of it. Naomi finally looked at me, "You ain't him, you know."

"Who?"

"Your Daddy. Merle. Whoever it is that's got your head all messed up about this," she shrugged. My heart dropped. Like she'd looked right into it and pulled out a secret without me noticing until it was sitting, bleeding, in her hands.

"I was so mad at you," I said, guilt swelling in my lungs.

"I know."

"I wanted to hit something. Throw something."

"Right," she said. "Something. Not me."

"'Course not," I said. "But I was so angry, and you were so close."

"You wouldn't put your hands on me. I know that." Naomi sounded so damn confident, so sure of herself and of me. She took my hand in hers, and I saw that crescent moon scar from the last time I'd been too angry, and she's been too close. She caught me looking, "People haven't loved you right, but you're nothing like them. Nobody loves like you do. You couldn't hurt me. Not physically, not on purpose. It's not who you are."

I almost told her right then about the nightmares I'd been having. Her all covered in blood because of me. But when I opened my mouth to say something, nothing came. Looking at her face, I couldn't picture my life without it, and when I tried to tell her the truth, tried to warn her away, all that came out was, "I wanna treat you right."

"You do," Naomi's whole face softened again. She touched my face much more gently than I ever could have deserved. "And I just wanna love you right."

"You do," I told her.

"Good." She rested her head on my shoulder. A moment of quiet that I knew I'd have to break soon but had no desire to. It was crazy she could doubt whether her love was enough. It was fierce and burned so bright it was impossible for anyone she loved to feel cold or alone while she was near. Always the first person in my corner. Never rushing me when words got tangled in my throat. She was perfect, just sitting with her was enough to calm me. I put off breaking the silence for so long that she ended up doing it for me, "Is that all that's got you in such a funk this morning?"

"That, and…" I didn't want to keep going. I didn't want to tell her something that I knew would break this moment and throw us back into the bullshit of the outside world. "We found something. In the woods."

"Show me," she said.

"I brought it up. Knew you'd want to see it," I said. The door felt heavier when I started to open it. I was half-hoping it wouldn't be there anymore. That someone would have come along and taken it away, but it was still sitting there. I picked it up and turned back to her. "We think someone's been taking food out there. Jerry says we served this two days ago."

I didn't add that it might have been for Negan; she didn't need me to add that part.

"No way that was sitting out there in the storm. It's not even wet," Naomi didn't take a beat before she realized something was up with the whole scenario. "Was it covered by anything?"

"Nah. It was sitting out on an old tree stump," I said. "Had a book under it to keep it straight."

I moved the plate so that she could see it and then wished I hadn't. I watched the color drain from her face. She didn't move, didn't blink. I ain't sure she even took a breath. It was like she froze in time. When she eventually moved, she said, "That book or a book?"

"This one," I said. Naomi's reaction made me sick with nerves, although I had no idea why. I tried to lighten it. "Why? You ain't got a copy in that library of yours?"

"Negan gave me that book," she said. I hadn't known what to expect, but somehow this was the worst answer she could have given. Like Negan had some secret way of communicating with her. A code I was shut out of. I didn't like it. I was used to being the one who could tell her something with a look, a word, a shorthand nobody else understood.

"This exact one?"

"I think so."

"When? Why? The hell's he doing getting you gifts?"

"It wasn't a gift," she said. "It was a trap. A taunt."

"A book?"

"Not the book," she said, "what was in it."

"Like… the plot?"

"No," she reached out and took it from me like it would explode if she moved too fast. She turned the book over in her hands, looking for some tiny detail on the cover or spine that would tell her something. Something I couldn't see. When she spoke, it was almost absentmindedly, "Although… Two childhood friends who fall in love. Lots of pining and moping. Shit, maybe he did mean that as a taunt, too."

My heart twisted somewhere down by my stomach. I didn't like this; I didn't like any of it. Naomi opened the book, and immediately something fell to the floor. From the whoosh it made, I thought a page had fallen out. Or some kind of note from Negan to Naomi that he thought I'd never see because I was a dumb hick who'd never think to open a book. Even when it was laid out right in front of him.

But it wasn't a page. It was a photograph. The way the light was hitting it, I could only see Naomi's face grinning up at me, but I knew at once what picture it was.

"Pack your shit," Naomi said, her voice sharp as a knife. "I'll get Mia's. I want you both out of here within the hour."

Everything was moving too fast. Spinning like I was trapped on a fairground ride. I was used to Naomi being a few steps ahead of me at most things, but now it felt like she was a few thousand steps ahead. She'd bolted, run so far that I could see what path she was on to join her there.

Naomi bent to pick it up, and I caught a flash of something on the back. I tried to remember if either of us had ever written something on the back or if her Momma had labeled it. Then I saw Naomi flinch. One second where she let a wave of terror pass over her, and then her face was set in determination. I knew that look. That electricity that crackled off her. The fear deep down inside her. It makes her bold, and it makes her brave; it doesn't make her invincible.

"Woah," I said, holding up my hands to try and slow her down. "A little hasty, don't you think?"

I knew the mood she was in; I knew the panic that gripped her. I just didn't know why.

I bet Negan would know.

Naomi pushed the photograph into my hands.

It wasn't the light. Mia and I had been scratched off, leaving only Naomi intact. I flipped it over, reading the words scrawled on the back.

'I don't need your forgiveness.

You need mine.'

It didn't make sense to me, but I knew from how Naomi was flipping out that this meant something more to her. I took a beat, wondering why I wasn't more freaked. Why I hadn't felt that wave of terror crash over me too. Maybe because it had hit her first, she'd absorbed all of it.

"It's him," she said.

"Someone else could've written that," I tried to reassure her, but the more this kind of shit went on, the flimsier it sounded.

"In the forest, I told him he could hand himself in, and all would be forgiven," she said. "And now this."

"Wait," I said. My stomach clenched. "Hold up. I thought you didn't see him?"

"I didn't," she said, a wild look creeping into her eye. "But I spoke to him. He didn't speak back, but he was there. He was listening."

My girl. She's lost it.

"Don't," she said quietly. "Don't look at me like that."

"Alright," I said, just as quiet. Because something might be driving her crazy, Naomi might have lost her mind, but that didn't mean she was wrong. She was looking more and more right by the second.

"Pack a bag," she ordered me again.

"Alright," I said. If Naomi was surprised that I'd caved, she didn't show it. She'd already moved on to the next part of her plan.

"I'm going to radio Rick," she said, and I wondered if it was a mistake that I hadn't done it sooner.

"You don't think Rick coming in here will make it look like we can't handle shit ourselves?" I asked, not because I doubted her or thought she hadn't thought of it. I just wanted to know why I'd been wrong when I'd decided not to.

"Doesn't need to be Rick himself," she said. "All we need is more people we can trust to help us search. No use having the Saviors involved if they're going to cover shit up."

When she finally came around to seeing the Saviors for the jerks I knew them to be, I thought I'd be relieved. Figured I might say I told you so. But when the moment finally came, I felt a twinge of sadness. She'd been working so hard, and Naomi's ability to see the best in people, her belief that most folks were good deep down, or at least had the potential to be, was frustrating as hell. It was also the only reason she'd ever seen anything in me. I didn't like seeing it stamped out.

"We tell the Saviors people are coming to drop off more supplies," she said. "We're running low, and they're used to regular deliveries, so I doubt they'll question it. By the time they've worked out what's happening, we'll have a good head start."

I thought she was calming down now that she'd made a plan. So I asked, "You want me to call Rick while you get Mia ready?"

"No," her words were more than sharp. They were tight and compact. Bullets. "Pack."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, hoping it might make her smile, but she was already gone. Out in the hallway, I heard her telling Mia to get ready for a trip to Alexandria. From the tone of Naomi's voice, you might not have known that anything was wrong, and Mia's excitement suggested she had no idea why she was really being told to pack.

After Naomi had gone, I thought I'd feel some of my calm disappear, but it stuck to me. I knew what had to be done and that Naomi wouldn't like it, but we'd agreed on the most important thing; we had to get Mia out. For now, that was all I needed. So I packed a bag and waited for her to come back. I could've gone to find her, I could've waited out by the cars, but I knew it was best to wait in private. Especially given that our last fight had ended… different.

When Naomi came back into the room, the wild look in her eyes had died down. The electricity still buzzed around her, but she'd grounded it now she had something to channel it into. I knew I was about to mess it up.

"Called Rick," she said. "He's going to get in touch with the other communities. They'll all send people and some food, so our cover story looks legit, probably for the best given how little we've got left."

"That's good."

"You packed?"

"Yup."

"Okay, so is Mia," she said. "Jerry's bringing a car around. Let's go."

"I'm not going," I said.

"Daryl!" she flared up immediately. "I need you to get Mia-"

"You're going," I told her. "You take Mia."

"He threatened you and Mia," she said. "Not me. You gotta go. You gotta take her where it's safe."

"No," I said. "I left you here once. Ain't doing again. Not now I have a choice."

"What makes you think you have a choice?"

"Rick put me in charge of this place," I said. "How's it gonna look if I up and leave at the first sign of trouble?"

"I don't give a shit how it looks," she said.

"The only people who know about this," I held up the damn book that had caused all of this. "Is me, you, and whoever put it out in those woods for us to find."

"Negan," she said. "Don't know why you keep acting like you don't know his name. It's Negan."

"Alright, Negan, sure," I said. "But someone else has been taking food out to him, so maybe they know about it. Maybe they helped. What do you think they will tell everyone else when they see me running scared?"

"You ain't running scared," she said. "We'll tell them you're taking Mia to visit-"

"It's gonna sound a lot more believable if she's going with you," I said. "Rick appoints me leader, and suddenly I up and leave for a friendly visit to Alexandria? They're immediately going to know something's up."

"You gotta go," she said.

"If you take Mia, it looks like a regularly scheduled trip just like Rick sending people will look like a planned supply drop," I said. "Whoever knows about the damn book and the damn photograph doesn't even know we've found it yet. But they'll be waiting for our reaction. So let's not give it to 'em. For all they know, we never opened the damn book."

"No."

"It's the smartest play. You know that."

"No," she said again. It was all she could say, and it took me a moment to realize it wasn't that she disagreed with my points. She didn't want to hear them because she knew I was right. In the fight between her head and heart, her heart was winning. My rational, pro-con list-making girl was willing to throw away the smart choice. For me.

I took her hand and felt the slight shake of fear in it. "You trust me, right?"

"'Course I do."

"Then you gotta leave," I said. I knew it was a big fucking ask. Naomi, who'd never been able to count on anyone but herself, who'd never walked away from something that needed to get done - could she let me take care of it?

"You've already packed," she said, with a flash of triumph in her eyes. Like she might be able to get out of this on a technicality.

"Yeah. I packed your shit in that bag, dummy," I told her and watched that little flash die out. "And as much as I like your clothes, I doubt they'll look as good on me."

Naomi half-sobbed, half-laughed, and I took that moment to close the gap between us. Held her by the waist. She was spinning out, and I tried to keep her steady.

"Trust me to do what needs to get done here," I said. "I'll find Negan if he's out there."

"He is."

"Then I'll find him, smoke out whoever's helping him, and make it safe for you and Mia to come back," I said. "I promise."

"He didn't threaten me," she said. "It's you and Mia that are all scratched out on that damn-"

"You really think that wasn't a threat to you?" I said. "Negan knows you'd do anything for us. He's playing mind games with you. He's not even playing them with me; you're his target."

"All the more reason for me to be the one to stay," she said. "It was a message to me. You and Mia can't get caught up in this. I can't risk it. It's not on you; it's on me."

"You are mine to protect," I said. "'Course it's on me."

It just slipped out. Naomi shook her head. I expected an earful about how people couldn't belong to anyone else, but instead, she said, "It goes both ways."

And she looked so desperately sad that I had to pull her closer and hide her face against my shoulder. I might have caved and told her it was okay if she stayed. All because I couldn't stand it when she was sad. I probably would have if it hadn't been for Mia.

"I know," I assured her. "I know it does. But you gotta let me do this. Lemme take care of you."

Everything I'd ever told her about being there for her and Mia rose up in me again. I knew I could swear it all over again until I was blue in the face, and it wouldn't make a difference if she didn't believe it. There was a big difference between hearing it and learning it, between someone telling you that they're there for you and actually showing up. I wanted to show up and take care of this so that she didn't have to, but I couldn't do it unless she let me. I needed her to step aside so I could be the man she deserved to be with.

"Okay," she whispered, and I felt her cave. Her body shifted to lean into mine, she hid her face in my shoulder, and I heard her sniff. I knew this was hard for her, and it meant she had to leave, but I felt like I was flying. The trust she'd just placed in me meant the whole damn world.

"When this is over, properly over, and this place can run itself, I'm going to get us someplace else," I said. I didn't realize how fragile a dream it was until I'd started saying it out loud. "Somewhere of our own. Safe. A room for Mia, of course. I'll build it with my own two hands if we can't find a good enough place."

I stopped. Naomi hadn't made a sound. That dream of us with a small place of our own had been in me since I was a kid. I could see it in my mind clear as day. A little house where nothing could reach us unless we wanted it to. I'd held on tight to that dream no matter what had been going on between us, unable to let it go. But I'd never really talked about it. It felt so far out of reach. Even now that Naomi and I were together, I wasn't sure it could ever happen. Naomi, who'd always been looking to make something of herself, always believed there was something more out there for her if she just worked hard enough…. Would a quiet life with me be enough for her?

"Keep talking," Naomi said, and I found I had to talk past a lump in my throat.

"High fence with Morgan's spikes around it to keep the Walkers away. Somewhere close enough to the other communities that we can visit, but… quiet," I said, so she'd know I wasn't trying to shut her off from everyone or that I hadn't thought about ways to keep us safe. "And they can visit us, too. Anytime. Glenn and Maggie can bring the baby. Rick and Michonne can bring Carl."

"Don't forget Carol," Naomi said, but I hadn't. I could see it all. All of them sitting around a table with us. Safe and happy and together.

"That goes without saying," I said. "She and Bryce can bring some of the King's horses and teach Mia to ride just like she wanted. And Mia can have her friends come and stay whenever she wants."

I could see it all.

"Yeah, I don't think you'd keep her and Perla apart for too long," Naomi said with a quiet laugh. But she wasn't laughing at me or the idea of what our life together could be.

"You think Perla will need her own room?"

"Sleepovers ain't much fun if you're in different rooms," Naomi said.

"Well, all your damn books will probably need a room of their own, too," I said. "Could add a stable if Mia really wants."

"Is this a palace you're building?" she laughed.

"If that's what it takes," I said. "All I'm trying to say is, people can come and visit whenever we want them to. But it'll be a place for us. A proper home."

When I looked at her, I saw it all. Not just our friends around the table. Not just Mia learning to ride a horse in the woods. Not just a room filled entirely with books stored in Naomi's whack-a-doodle system. I saw a whole life, a whole future, with her. Coming home to each other at the end of the day, no matter what kind of day it had been.

I could see it so clearly. Opening the door as the light failed outside and finding Naomi curled up reading by a fire. I could see that far-off look on her face when she was reading. I could see myself having to make a lot of noise for her to notice I'd come home. And then I could see her looking up, that big smile spreading across her face. I saw her standing up to greet me. A slight bump under her shirt, her stomach growing with a kid of our own.

It came into my mind fully formed, like a photograph of something that hadn't happened yet...

Might never happen.

… like a photograph of something that might never happen.

I couldn't say any of it out loud. I prayed Naomi wouldn't ask me to keep going. I wasn't sure how I could. Have you ever wanted something so bad it physically hurts?

Thankfully, all she said was, "That sounds nice."

I couldn't tell if she was taking it seriously or if this was a joke to her, but something about the conversation had calmed her. When I handed her the bag I'd packed, she reluctantly took it without starting another fight. We walked out without saying another word to each other. Mia bounded out of her room to join us. If she noticed something was off, she didn't say anything. She was way too excited about seeing Perla and Alexandria again.

Jerry had brought a car around to the front for them. I couldn't stop my heart from sinking the moment I saw it. I wanted them to go and be somewhere safe, but I hated that it meant being away from me. It was for the best, but I still felt a deep stab in my heart.

Saviors gathered at the gates, watching with interest.

"Car's all ready for you, boss," Jerry said. He glanced between Naomi and me. "So, are you both going, or…?"

Jerry sounded so uncertain. I didn't imagine Naomi had the time to give him much information between getting Mia ready and radioing Alexandria. As far as Jerry knew, all three of us were fleeing like rats on a sinking ship. His confusion and worry seemed to be a wake-up call for Naomi, the perfect illustration of why I couldn't be the one to leave. Not while I was the one in charge here.

"No," she said, "just Mia and me."

Mia paused for the first time since she'd bounced out of her room, "I thought Daryl was coming?"

"Daryl needs to stay here," Naomi said. "But we'll see him soon."

The way she said it sounded like a threat, as if she was planning on just dropping Mia off in Alexandria and speeding right back here again.

"Real soon," I agreed.

"Oh," Mia sounded a little disappointed, although she tried to shrug it off, "I guess that makes sense."

"Hop in the car," Naomi told her. "I'll be with you in a sec."

Mia gave me a blink-and-you'd-miss-it hug laden with teenage embarrassment before she got into the car's passenger side. Naomi turned to me like she wanted to say something and couldn't.

"See you soon," I said again, and it sounded lame. The ache in me grew deeper by the second. She smiled, but her eyes betrayed her, even if only to me. I kissed her right in front of everyone, which would've betrayed how I was feeling. Even if only to her.

The second she was out of my arms, everything felt wrong. Naomi walked to the passenger side. I saw a split second where she let herself feel scared and sad all at once. Then she smoothed it over with a smile like nothing was wrong before she opened the door and joined Mia in the car. I heard Mia giggle before the engine started.

I watched the car shrink and felt that ache turn to a pull. Nothing was right when she wasn't with me.

"Where are they going?" I hadn't noticed Justin sidle up to me until he spoke. I wanted to punch him. I didn't like that he'd come sniffing around the moment they'd left. I didn't trust his sudden interest in what was happening around here. There were a thousand ways I wanted to reply;

None of your fucking business.

What the hell is it to you where they're going?

Were you expecting something else?

"When we came here, we promised Mia we'd take her back to visit her friends," I said, as calm as could be. "Naomi's taking her for a couple of days."

"Cool," Justin said like the answer didn't really matter to him. He glanced back at the car shrinking on the road, his face smoothed of any thought or emotion. I scanned for a crack in his mask and found none.

Whoever had left that book and that photograph for us to find had been trying to taunt Naomi. They must have known she'd try to get Mia and me out of here as fast as possible, but would they also realize there was no way I could leave? What if, instead of saving them both, I'd just delivered them to Negan?

I remembered all of those fallen trees that Negan had used to block off roads, to force Rick and the others into that clearing. After last night's storm, you might not think twice about a fallen tree on the road. It wouldn't be so out of place. It might take Naomi a beat too long to realize the danger and turn around again.

No. She's smarter than that.

I picked up a radio. Her car was now just a glint on the road where the sunlight reflected off the roof.

"Rick?" I called into the static.

It took him a moment, and then, "Everything alright, Daryl?"

"The girls have just left."

"I thought it was you and Mia who were coming."

"Change of plans," I said. "I'm staying. They're heading to you now."

"Really?" Rick's low whistle crackled on the radio. "How'd you swing that one? Naomi sounded pretty set."

"I'm in charge of this place," I said and wondered how many times I'd have to say it for it to feel real and not like some sick joke. "I can't leave. Naomi saw that. Eventually."

"Alright," Rick said. If he was curious about the change in plan, he didn't say anything. "I have a team on the way to you. They should be with you pretty soon."

"Good," I said but didn't sign off.

"That all you called to say, Daryl?"

"No," I said. "When… uh, when the girls reach you… call me and let me know, yeah?"

There was a slight pause on the other end that left me twisting. I felt needy for asking and when Rick spoke again, I could hear the damn grin in his voice. "You want me to get Naomi to call you herself?"

Yes.

The thought of hearing her voice again sounded like a dream. But Rick was already treating us like we were a couple of teenagers who couldn't hang up the phone on each other. She'd only been gone for a few minutes, but I could feel the rest of our time apart stretching out ahead of us. The end was so far on the horizon that it was impossible to see from where I was now.

This is dumb.

You shouldn't miss someone this much when they only just left; it's pathetic.

"Nah," I said. "Just… let me know."

"Will do."

I signed off. Naomi's car was gone, but I kept my eyes fixed on the road for signs of our backup. If Negan was out there, I'd find him. If someone was in here messing with my girl, I'd find them. And I'd make them pay.