Hello, good people! Here I am with a surprise chapter, and it's only been like two weeks or so!

Recap - Chapter 24 - Road Map of Scars:
"Aren't you afraid of retaliation?" you question. After all, Greg is the police commissioner, a powerful man in his own right.

"When I was around your age, I posed that very same question to my father. And I will share with you exactly what he told me," he says, picking up his liquor and taking a sip before leaning in closer to you as well. "Memento mori." He whispers, pausing to let the word sink in. "a Latin phrase that translates to, 'remember that you will die.'" You watch him with wide eyes as he reaches for your chin and gently holds your face. "So, if we only bear in mind that our demise is ultimately unavoidable, what is left for us to be afraid of then?"


I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
And I fear no evil because I'm blind to it all
And my mind and my gun they comfort me
Because I know I'll kill my enemies when they come

Through the valley by Shawn James

Chapter 67 - Through The Valley

"Every day he woke up and told himself, 'Rest in peace; now get up and go to war.' After a few years of pretending he was dead, he made it out alive. That's the trick of it, I think. We do what we need to do, and then we get to live. No matter what we find in D.C., I know we'll be okay. This is how we survive: We tell ourselves that we are the walking dead."

.

.

In the quiet pre-dawn darkness of Alexandria, Jesus rises from the plush couch that has served as his makeshift bed. With meticulous care, he folds the blanket and places it neatly atop the pillow, a small gesture of order amidst the chaos swirling within him. Sleep has eluded him; his mind racing with the impending confrontation on the horizon. He can't shake the feeling of urgency, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.

The decision to return to Alexandria after delivering the guns to Hilltop had been an impulsive one—driven more by the need to see the day's events through. Yet, as the night deepened, he found himself tethered to this place, to these people, as they gathered and made the necessary plans.

But now... It's as the doctor had said last night: they were not ready; not truly.

Pulling on his boots with swift, determined movements, he makes his decision. He needs to reach Hilltop and the Kingdom before it's too late—before the day unravels into chaos. With every passing moment, the window to rally their forces and fortify their defenses narrows.

The first hints of dawn paint the sky with strokes of gray as he steps out of the house into the chilly morning air. The streets of Alexandria are deserted, almost like the calm before the storm.

Jesus knows he cannot afford to linger any longer. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he sets off with a purposeful stride, heading toward one of the cars near the gate. There's no turning back now. The fight for their lives, for their very world, is about to begin.


The tension in Alexandria feels like wires on a bomb ready to explode. From the moment you stepped out of the house into the barely-there sunlight, you've been moving nonstop, preparing for the attack you know is coming any minute. Despite your efforts, nervousness gnaws at your insides, aware that you're heading into a situation for which you're not ready.

You haven't slept. Instead, you had lay beside Daryl for the few hours you managed, eyes closed, feeling the strangeness of being back in Alexandria and dreading the imminent battle. But more than the fight itself, it was the room that kept you awake. You couldn't bring yourself to return to your old house, not after everything that happened there—not on the same makeshift mattress where you bled out, where you lost your baby, all while keeping your silence next to Daryl.

You know you need to tell him... but how could you, with the looming battle so close? You know his temperament; how reckless he can get. You can't burden him with this now. He needs to be focused, not be consumed by your emotions or making impulsive decisions. So, you surrender your entire house to the ladies of Oceanside, seeking refuge in one of the empty rooms of the Monroe household—Deanna's old place.

Daryl doesn't question your decision; he simply follows your lead—as if anyone could have truly rested last night. By the time you both finally settled onto the carpeted floor, makeshift bedding of piled blankets beneath you, much of the night had already slipped away, spent strategizing with Rick and your core group, delegating tasks among the residents.

Now, you're hurrying down the streets of Alexandria, past the cars lined up within the town, a double U-shaped barricade separating the houses from the gate, set in the opening of the community—a physical barrier between you and what's coming.

"Alie!" Your name cuts through the morning air, and you turn to see Aaron waving from a distance, flanked by Tobin and Scott. You pivot toward them, and as you approach, you notice the metal lid of the drainage pipe leading into the sewers open, your contingency plan already in motion.

"Hey," Aaron greets you, peering down into the sewer. "We stashed the non-perishables and the ready-to-eat meals. Anything else you want to add?"

"Yeah," you reply, your voice tight as you survey the dark confines below. A few feet down, you can make out the shadowy outline of stacked supplies. "Let's hide some guns down there as well… just in case."

You plan to funnel the young ones and those too old to fight into the sewers, away from the conflict. Should the worst happen and Alexandria falls, those hidden supplies—food and weapons—could be what stands between survival and what's left behind.

"Alie!" Another voice interrupts your conversation, pulling your attention away. You turn to see Rick jogging towards you. You give Aaron a reassuring nod and press his shoulder briefly before you make your way toward Rick, meeting him halfway.

"Rick," you greet, his face reflecting the weariness of someone who, like you, has been up since dawn, preparing.

"We have eyes everywhere," he says, gesturing vaguely towards the walls as you both fall into step, striding toward the gate. "Rosita is out there now, setting up explosives down the main road."

You hum in acknowledgment, your steps quick and purposeful as you navigate between the parked cars to reach the clearing outlined by the gate. In the distance, you spot Rosita, Sasha, and Daryl. They're far beyond the gate, beyond the houses that frame Alexandria, but they're heading toward you, having finished setting up the dynamites left from Oceanside's controlled explosion as a roadblock, ready to trigger it if necessary.

At the sight of them, you pause and turn to Rick, who stops beside you. There, you whisper the thought that's been haunting your mind. "Rick, maybe we should just evacuate."

"What?" he murmurs, his brows knitting together.

"It's all happening too fast," you state, voicing your fears. "We don't have the time to plan for contingencies and backup-plans, not really. It's all put together last minute."

Rick shakes his head, his resolve clear even in the face of uncertainty. "There is never going to be the right time, Alie. Things can always go wrong. Here, we have the home-field advantage and the element of surprise—he doesn't know that we know. We can do this."

"I don't know…" Your voice trails off, emotions conflicting within you. There's a desperate rage burning everything into ashes, but there's also logic, urging you to see things for what they are. You've been keeping your expression neutral, projecting strength, but the fear is evident in the eyes of your people, in the faces of the Oceanside women, uncertain in their movements, their guns gripped tightly. Even armed and with new allies, your numbers are not enough. If Negan comes prepared—as you suspect he will—you dread leading anyone else to their death. "Alexandria is just four walls and a gate, Rick. It means nothing to him without us in it."

"We're not leaving our home. We can do this. We are capable of winning," he states firmly, his hand landing on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I just need you with me, you understand. I need you."

You let out a deep sigh and nod at Rick's conviction, though you can't completely set your fears aside. "I know…and I'm here."

"Okay, let's do this," Rick nods, and together, you turn back toward the gate.

As Rick strides toward the approaching group, you make your way to the lookout post, climbing the side ladder to where Gabriel stands vigilantly on watch, binoculars raised to his eyes. "How's it going?" you ask, noting the rifle slung to his side and his shirt clean and pressed, his amice draped perfectly around his neck as if he were prepared for a sermon rather than a siege.

"It's still quiet," he replies, his voice soft as he lowers the binoculars from his gaze. You hum in response, your eyes drifting below to where Daryl and the women are walking in, Rick already deep in conversation with Rosita. From your elevated position, you lock eyes with Daryl, offering him a soft nod. You know he's been protective, hovering around you as if you might shatter, his shoulders tensed with the readiness to tackle any threat that dares come close. And you're afraid of that—that he will die trying to protect you.

"Are you ready?" Gabriel's gentle voice draws your attention back to him.

"Yes, I am," you affirm, the resolve in your voice masking the turmoil within. You're ready, prepared to die here if it comes to that. "I just don't want anyone else dying because of me. I told the women of Oceanside that they don't have to be scared anymore... but here they are, terrified."

"I'm scared," Gabriel admits, turning to meet your gaze, the fear clearly evident in his eyes. "But I still want to be here; I still want to fight. I suppose it's the same for them too," he adds, his sincerity resonating with you. He turns forward, lifting the binoculars to his eyes again. "You should give yourself credit, it's not easy—" His voice suddenly cuts off, his body stiffening as his hand grips the edge of the lookout post tightly. "I see something... We've got movement… Saviors incoming!"

Your voice reverberates off the walls as you spin around and shout, "RICK! INCOMING!" Your call reaches him somewhere along the lines of vehicles.

"Everyone, it's time!" he bellows, immediately issuing commands. "GO, GO, GO! Everyone, take your positions as we discussed!"

Your body tenses as you turn back to Gabriel, reaching for the binoculars. "How many we got, let me see?" you demand, already unslinging the rifle that's been pressed against your back all morning. As you peer through the lenses, your eyes catch sight of a distant silhouette against the horizon, a blur weaving through the landscape, moving fast towards Alexandria. Beside you, Gabriel's voice breaks into a prayer, his hands gripping his rifle firmly.

"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, and I fear no evil. For You are with me; My Lord comforts me. If it's my time, I'm ready. You've prepared a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. I'm ready."

You squint harder as the figures draw closer, only for your brows to rise in surprise as you catch full sight. The scene unfolding before you seems surreal, like a vision straight from a forgotten age, as if plucked from a medieval epic.

Dozens of riders lead the charge, clad in that familiar laser tag-style armor, their horses galloping so swiftly they seem to fly. It's the Kingdom's men, their faces set in grim determination. On the edges, two men on horseback hold flying banners high, fluttering in the wind, red and orange with a tiger face emblazoned in their centers. Behind them, countless lines of vehicles follow, their engine roars mixing with the thundering of hooves.

Gabriel's soft voice continues to murmur in the background, "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: I'm ready."

"Gabriel," you call out, stunned, the binoculars loosening in your arm, cutting off his prayer. He looks up, and gasps.

There, behind this surprising parade of horse-riding soldiers, are two trucks leading the rest. One truck bed holds King Ezekiel and Carol, with Shiva beside them, while the second truck carries Maggie and Jesus. The Kingdom and Hilltop alike follow, forming a massive convoy of vehicles.

"MERRRLINNN!" Ezekiel's voice booms across the expanse as he spots you, sword thrust upward in dramatic flair—a roar erupts from the soldiers following his battle cry, accompanied by the rhythmic drumming of hooves.

"YEEAAA!" Maggie screams toward you, her face breaking into a bright smile, fist pumping in the air. You sigh, laughter escaping you, as the weight lifts from your shoulders. You're not alone. You don't have to fear. You have friends, allies…

"Open the gate!" you call down, but Daryl is already there, pulling it open just in time to welcome the convoy as they thunder into the community. "Alexandria will NOT fall! Not today!" King Ezekiel declares, his voice ringing out to the relieved expressions on your people's faces as they all converge.

The relief you feel is echoed in Gabriel beside you, his shoulders shaking, eyes closed, head tilted skyward as if his fear has deeply tested his faith. He was far more frightened than he had let on. You place a comforting hand on his shoulder as you pass by, your rifle now slung back in place as you quickly descend the ladder.

Off to the side, the women of Oceanside observe the unfolding scene, smiles tracing their lips, only for Beatrice to turn to Cyndie, eyes wide, exclaiming, "What the fuck—is that a tiger?!"

"Alie!" Maggie calls, drawing your attention to her, with Jesus assisting her down from the back of the truck. The entrance of Alexandria seems filled to the brim, the tide of new arrivals from the Kingdom and Hilltop swelling into the heart of the community. Spirits are visibly lifted among your group, the air abuzz with cheers and greetings as the makeshift barriers of cars are pushed aside to make way for the horses and vehicles.

"Maggie!" you jog, closing the distance in a few quick strides before pulling her into a fierce hug. "How did you know?" you ask as you finally pull back.

"Jesus," she replies, her smile brightening her face. "He made sure to reach the Kingdom before sunrise. We were worried we'd be too late."

Your gaze shifts to Jesus, standing a few feet away with a grin on his face. "Thank you," you mouth your gratitude, before turning back to Maggie. "Look at you, waging war through your second trimester," you comment, your hand lightly touching her belly, which is just beginning to show its roundness.

"I've been fighting since the farm, can't stop now," she chuckles, a sound that's cut short when Ezekiel steps forward, his large smile unwavering.

"My fair maiden, I've received your letter! Pray forgive for the delay," he announces, his hand finding your shoulder. "For I am here now, resolute and steadfast, prepared to stand by your side."

You nod, "Thank you, King Ezekiel," you say, your gratitude genuine.

Behind him, you spot Carol clad in the Kingdom's armor, happily chatting with Rick and Daryl, with Tobin and Morgan lingering behind. It's the first time Rick and your group have seen her since her disappearance before the lineup. But now she's back, ready to fight—her armor says as much.

With a gentle nudge, you usher King Ezekiel and Maggie forward. Carol's gaze meets yours, and there's something in her eyes that waits for your acknowledgment. So, you smile at her because you recognize she has something to do with bringing King Ezekiel to this fight, from his initial refusal, to showing up when Jesus called.

When Rick turns to you, you can see the lightness in his deep blue eyes—a weight lifted and renewed. He smiles at you, a spark of something fierce and hopeful flashing across his face. "This changes everything," he says.

You nod, a wicked smirk curling your lips. "Negan doesn't know we have allies now too. He doesn't know our numbers, and that's our game. We don't want to keep him from reaching our gate anymore. In fact, we want him inside, trapped with nothing but these walls and us," you declare, your plan forming as you survey the familiar faces in front of you.

"Oh, we're playing Russia?" Rick asks, one eyebrow arching in intrigue.

Your own brows shoot up at the reference, catching the connection that spans back to the prison, as you exchange a knowing look with those around you. "Oh yeah, we're definitely playing Russia."

"I can work with that," he says, his tone sly, turning to Ezekiel and Maggie. "Come on, let's get you and everyone settled in place, I'll fill you in on the plan," he suggests, leading the group deeper into Alexandria. As he ushers them forward, past the makeshift barricades of cars, his command rings out to a community poised for action. "Alright, everyone, let's get back in position! They could be here any minute, and remember, we want the element of surprise on our side!"

A hand lands on the back of your neck, fingers threading through the nape of your short hair. You turn to find Daryl lingering behind, his presence a steady comfort. He leans in, pressing his lips to your temple in a silent salute. "Ya did it," he whispers there.

Leaning into his warmth, your smile broadens, your gaze sweeping over the assembled troops, a swell of pride surging within you—today, Alexandria fights back. "We did it, every single one of us."


You're stationed back at the watch post when, less than an hour later, the deep roar of heavy engines cuts through the silence. Alexandria falls deathly quiet, every breath held in suspense, but this time, however, you know there is a fighting chance. Glancing over at Daryl beside you on the watch post, you mirror his actions as he swings his rifle off his shoulder, readying himself.

The plan is simple: make Negan think he has the upper hand and lure him inside the community with his usual overconfidence. Hidden among the parked cars, the soldiers from Hilltop, the Kingdom, Oceanside, all your allies await, out of sight but in position.

Yet, for the second time that morning, you find yourself raising your eyebrows in surprise at the unfolding scene. You and Daryl exchange a look as the bizarre convoy approaches—dozens of bicycles spearhead the procession, creating an almost eerie spectacle as they pedal toward the gate, followed closely by large garbage trucks. Suddenly, the trucks pivot, opening up the center lane for the core of the convoy, which you assume is commandeered by the Saviors. From the looks of the bikers, you immediately recognize them as the Scavengers, just as Dwight had warned—now aligned with the Saviors.

"All points are covered, and all contingencies already accounted for!" a familiar voice blasts over a bullhorn. It's Eugene, his head peeking from the back of a tow truck. "I come bearing the truth, armed with insight. A test is upon you, and I'm here to offer a cheat sheet!"

Behind you, Rick swiftly climbs the ladder, drawn by the familiar voice, a look of surprise etched across his face as he comes to stands to your left. The tow truck parks sideways in front of the gate, positioning Eugene fully in view before you. The line of cars halts behind him, confirming your suspicions: Negan has come well-prepared—not just his soldiers, but he intends to use the Scavengers to fight his battle.

"H-hello, Doc," Eugene stutters, dressed in black, his voice cracking at the sight of you. His confidence falters under your steady gaze as he hesitantly lifts a disassembled piece of dynamite, wires askew—the very same one Rosita had rigged not long ago. "I come salved with the hope that it's my dropped knowledge that you heed. Options are zero to none. Compliance and fealty are your only escape," he continues, shifting uncomfortably on his feet as his eyes dart between you and Rick. "The jig is up and in full effect. W-will you comply?"

Your expression remains impassive as you scrutinize Eugene, the air thick with tension. You know Eugene better than most, having spent countless hours together in the lab, his voice a constant backdrop to your work, either chatting your ears off or challenging you intellectually. But above all, you know he's a survivor.

Beside you, Rick's face is a vivid display of raw emotion, a mixture of disbelief and anger. "Where is Negan?" he demands.

Eugene hesitates momentarily, his eyes flickering towards you, "I'm Negan," he confesses, a surrender in his declaration that doesn't quite mask the fear behind it.

Rick exhales sharply, his eyes closing briefly as the sting of betrayal washes over him, resonating with the Alexandrians who watch in stunned silence from behind the gate.

Laughter breaks the heavy atmosphere as the truck door swings open, and Negan's unmistakable voice fills the space. "You see that? I am everywhere!" As if on cue, the rest of the vehicle doors fly open, with Saviors and Scavengers alike beginning to emerge, guns in hand.

Rage is a peculiar thing—the truly frightening moments are not those of blind fury; it's the controlled, clear-headed kind, the sort that's deliberate and inescapable. That's the rage you feel now, cold and steady, as you wait for Negan to reveal himself. He strides forward confidently, not alone but gripping Merle by the collar of his shirt, using him as a human shield. A random Savior quickly places a step beside the truck, helping them ascend the tow-truck bed to stand next to Eugene.

Simon and Dwight quickly follow, climbing up to position themselves beside Negan, taking center stage. Negan's eyes lock onto you, a smirk curling his lips. "There she is, the magician herself," he taunts, peering from behind Merle. "Trying to pull a Houdini on me, huh? My boys have been flipping every damn rock and peeking into every crack, but all it took was my new friend here to blow the whistle."

On cue, Jadis steps forward from the crowd, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. She looks up at you with a cocked eyebrow, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "Who's the cockroach now?" she sneers.

"Still you," you shoot back sharply.

Negan bursts into laughter, clearly amused by the exchange. "Ladies, ladies!" he chides mockingly, waving his hand dismissively. "Let's get back to the freakin' business at hand." He turns toward Rick, thumbing towards you and Jadis with a chuckle. "Meow, catfight."

Despite his casual demeanor, Negan's words do little to disguise the gravity of the situation. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes, business. I've always preached that people are resources. But damn, you—we ain't even married yet, and you just love to go poking at my nerves, don't you?" His tone, though dripping with mock affection, carries an unmistakable threat.

He shakes his head in feigned disappointment, pointing Lucille at the explosives clutched in Eugene's shaky hands. "You were going to blow us all to kingdom come, am I right?" His voice is scolding, like a parent chastising a child. "I mean, I get me, but my people? Your own brother-in-law? Your buddy Eugene? Now, that's just downright ice-cold."

It's only then that you allow your gaze to drift to Merle, catching a brief flicker of communication. It's been weeks since you last saw him, not since your covert visit to the sanctuary. Aside from the tension evident in his stance, he appears unharmed. His good hand subtly twitches near the gun concealed at his waistband. You maintain his gaze, silently urging him to hold off, to wait for your signal.

Negan continues to ramble, either oblivious to the silent exchanges or choosing to disregard them. "On my way here, I had plenty of time to mull over the consequences for all the crap y'all been pulling." His eyes flick to Daryl beside you, accompanied by a tsk. "Killing Fat Joe? Not cool. I kinda dug that chunky son of a gun." He says to him before turning back. "So, I entertained the idea of crashing through your gate and turning this whole damn place into a bonfire. Just call it a day, you know?"

He then steps away from Merle, casually draping an arm around Eugene, who jumps slightly at the contact, now finding himself used as a human shield. "But Eugene here piped up, said you might be open to reason, that you're smart enough to renegotiate and spare some lives."

When Negan's gaze meets yours again, all traces of humor vanish from his face, replaced by a sharp, calculating look. "Well, you were definitely smart enough to play me," he says, his voice low and dangerous. But as quickly as the severity appeared, it dissipates, replaced again by his usual theatrics. "Last time I swung by, I had a heart-to-heart with my old buddy Spencer. And let's just say he ended up spilling his guts—pun very much intended."

Negan's laugh is dark and hollow, echoing slightly before he sighs, adopting a mock air of contemplation. "You and I, we got a laundry list to go through, but I guess I'll kick things off with my demands to you," he says, his eyes shifting from you to Rick. "Since you've got Ricky boy here by the balls and all."

He raises his hand, starting to count off his demands. "Number one, I want every damn gun you managed to scrape up—don't think I don't know about that. Number two, I want every last drop of lemonade you got left. Number three, pick three unlucky souls of your own choosing for Lucille. Number four, the pool table. Yeah, I want that too."

His eyes then settle on your husband next to you, his smile widening maliciously. "Oh, and Daryl... Oh Daryl, I gotta get me my Daryl back." His gaze flicks to you, delight sparking in his eyes when he notices the slight twitch of your brow—the only sign of your simmering anger. "And last but not least: you. You're coming along for the ride too."

"Let's pretend for a moment I give a damn about what you want," you reply, your voice edged with steel. "What makes you think I will listen to you after all the shit you've pulled?" You want him to keep talking, to feel at ease, to believe he has the upper hand.

Negan scoffs, the sound dripping with disdain. "The shit I pulled? Me? I offered you choices, gave you options, and you went ahead and put a bullet in the man who dared to call himself your brother!"

Your grip on your rifle tightens, anger surging, but Negan's rant doesn't skip a beat, his voice tinged with his own anger. "And I'm doing the same damn thing now! I'm offering you choices! But this time, pissing your pants is gonna be the least of your worries."

Daryl lets out a growl beside you, his nostrils flaring, the vein in his neck pulsating visibly with suppressed rage. Negan's expression darkens as he locks eyes with Daryl, his gaze issuing a stark warning. "Watch how you're lookin' at me, Daryl, watch how you fuckin' lookin' at me." His tone is as harsh as the day of the lineup, his voice rising with each word. "I've said it once and I'll say it again: you answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me!"

You reach over and place your hand on Daryl's as he grips his rifle, tension palpable in every line of his body with the urge to raise it. Negan, sensing Daryl's growing agitation, presses on, targeting his sensitive spots with malicious glee. "You, Daryl, failed as a man to protect what's yours—that goes for your land, your wallet, your home, your woman. It's a man's job to protect what's his. It's the story of America—the whole goddamn world. It ain't personal, buddy, just how the world spins."

Negan's eyes then shift back to you. "Now, we could storm through that gate, turn it into a bloodbath, and at the end of the day, we'd come out on top 'cause, well, you're outnumbered. Or..."

There it is, you think, seizing the opportunity to interrupt him, directing the conversation precisely where you need it to go. "No one is taking our guns, no one is going anywhere, and no one is dying today. We will continue to give you your weekly tribute, but this time at a designated location far away from Alexandria." Your tone is resolute, a feigned attempt at negotiation. After all, you don't want to concede too quickly and make him suspicious... not after the vow you made to bury him six feet under.

Negan laughs, a low chuckle tinged with skepticism. "Now, now, I ain't no fool. Can't just let your crew hang onto all them guns, can I? Not after everything that's gone down," he muses, thoughtfully stroking his facial hair as he considers his next move. "And, of course, there's still the matter of punishment. Punishment's what's built us up to where we are."

"We can say the same thing," you retort firmly. "We can't afford not to keep our guns, not after everything."

Negan's expression twists as if considering a difficult puzzle. "Well, ain't that a pickle?"

"We'll give you half of our guns," Rick interjects, his tone calm yet assertive, aware of the strategic play at hand. "More than half. How 'bout we keep ten, just enough to defend our home, if need be."

Negan purses his lips, pondering the revised proposal. "And…"

"And you can have all the lemonade and the pool table," Rick adds to the offer.

"Aaaand…" Negan elongates the word, waving his finger in the air, indicating he expects more.

"And in addition, I will come with you. Only me, of course," you declare decisively. Daryl jerks his head to look at you, surprise etched on his face. You continue, "With the understanding that I will not be marrying you, and there will be no harm to me or Daryl."

"Hell no!" Daryl bursts out, the words harsh, his emotions raw from Negan's provocations. "Over my dead body you're goin' with him."

You turn to Daryl, your voice softening, your eyes locking with his in a silent exchange of unspoken words. "I'm sorry, but I am. I have to." You then glance back at Negan with a resigned sigh, "We can negotiate, figure things out if you really mean it. Or we can fight, and people will die. But what's the point of that, people are resources, right?"

Negan pauses, seemingly weighing your offer, then his face breaks into a wide, amused smile. "You got me wrapped around your finger, do you know that?" he quips, his tone light and teasing. "And it's not a man/woman thing. I mean, if you had a dick, I would still have these feelings for you."

His gaze shifts to Jadis, who has been intently watching the exchange. With a snap of his fingers, he commands her, "You... go ahead, start rounding up them guns." There's a gleeful skip in Jadis's step as she strides forward, scavengers and Saviors alike following after her like a pack of wolves.

You glance down at Rosita, stationed by the gate, and give her a nod. There's a metallic groan as she pushes the gate open. Negan steps forward, emerging from his human shield with a triumphant swagger, descending from the truck bed followed closely by his lieutenants, with Merle and Eugene trailing a few steps behind.

You turn and catch Rick's eye as he extends his hand to help you down from the watch post. His firm grip conveys an unspoken message, 'here we go,' as he leads the way with you and Daryl descending the ladder behind him.

Jadis and her crew are the first to step into Alexandria, with the Saviors close on their heels. Everything appears to be unfolding according to plan, with Negan not far behind. But then, without any warning, a massive brown blur charges across the scene.

It's Shiva, as she roars into action, her powerful jaws clamping onto a Scavenger's neck, mauling him right before your eyes. Chaos erupts instantly—the tiger's attack sets off a chain reaction, with gunfire echoing through the community as your allies rise from their hiding spots among the cars, unleashing a barrage of bullets.

Negan ducks for cover, Simon immediately shielding him, his handgun raised, firing rapidly. "THAT WIDOW IS ALIVE, GUNS A-BLAZIN'!" you hear Negan shout, but the scene becomes a blur of motion and noise. You barely catch a glimpse of what follows, as Rick moves past you with determined speed, his gunfire joining the cacophony. Daryl grabs the back of your head, pushing you down and dragging you towards one of the cars for cover.

Behind the car, the battle rages fiercely, with the entrance to Alexandria transforming into a battleground. You and Daryl work in tandem, swinging your rifle up behind cover, firing relentlessly. Each shot sends a jolt through your shoulder, the air heavy with the acrid scent of gunpowder, your ears ringing from the dissonancy of gunfire. The chaos unfolds in a frenetic—fast yet paradoxically slow—as your people push forward from their hiding spots, steadily gaining ground.

Nearby, under one of the Saviors' trucks, Merle crouches low, his prosthetic hand pressing Eugene to the ground. Eugene's hands cover his ears, eyes closed tight, trembling violently as Merle fires at both Scavengers and Saviors. But he's taking fire too, caught in the crosshairs of those he once called friends—Alexandria is firing back at him, and he knows there's no going home—not today, not after what he's done. All he can do now is drag Eugene toward a nearby car and make a desperate bid for escape, back to the sanctuary.

In sync with the advancing line, you and Daryl move from your cover, his hand gripping the back of your shirt to keep you close. But it's there you spot Jadis and her female lieutenant taking refuge behind a car near the gate. The sight of them reignites your fury, and without hesitation, you raise your rifle and fire. BANG—and the blonde lieutenant's head bounces off the car as she collapses backward.

"Tamiel!" Jadis cries out. The remaining Scavengers quickly deploy flare guns, lobbing soda cans filled with homemade smoke bombs, enveloping the area in a thick red haze. This smokescreen provides exactly what the Saviors need, covering their retreat as they rush back to their vehicles, Negan among them, slipping away in the chaos.

Jadis, however, doesn't retreat. Instead, she raises her gun and charges out, screaming as she fires wildly in your direction. You scramble for cover, bullets whizzing past dangerously close, as Daryl pulls you back, seeking shelter behind another car. The vehicle shakes as bullets rip into it, Jadis advancing with relentless aggression.

"Keep her occupied!" you yell at Daryl, who raises his gun to return fire, his focus torn between keeping you safe and engaging in the fight.

"Wait!" he calls out just as you drop the heavy rifle and draw the handgun tucked into your waistband. You scurry toward the rear of the vehicle, moving on all fours, swiftly maneuvering under the smoke and commotion. Left with no choice, Daryl focuses on the fight, cussing as he lays down cover fire to keep Jadis distracted from your movements.

That's when you find Jadis, tucked between two cars, exposed and vulnerable. Your hand is steady when you fire, the bullet catching her knee, and she buckles under the impact. "Drop your gun," you command, your voice harsh, as you advance quickly from behind.

She's panting, pain and rage mixing in her eyes, which now brim with tears. Slowly, she crawls on her good knee, turning to face you, her weapon clattering to the ground in a gesture of surrender. You stand over her, handgun still aimed, your expression one of cold determination. "I warned you, not even 24 hours ago. What did I say? If I see you sniffing around my gate again..."

"Alie, wait," Daryl's voice cuts through as he rounds the front of the car, his hand outstretched to stop you. "I'll do—"

BANG!

The gunshot rings out abruptly, a splatter of blood hitting your face as Jadis's head snaps back, her weight dropping still on the ground. Daryl exhales sharply, his shoulders dropping in a gesture of frustration, as if he failed to protect you from this dark necessity.

Beyond the gate, the garbage trucks roar to life. With their leader down, the remaining Scavengers scatter, panic-stricken, as gunfire chases them. Your allies press forward, driving them back. You don't chase because you know Negan is gone. The plan didn't unfold exactly as hoped, but nonetheless, it feels like a victory.

Daryl approaches slowly, saying quietly, "It's over," as he places a tentative hand on your shoulder.

At least for now…


In the quiet aftermath, as the dust settles and the echo of gunshots fades, a somber silence envelops the area. Gabriel makes his rounds, ensuring that no dead have risen, or Walkers attracted by the noise of the gunfire, haven't breached their community. He pauses, looking down at the bloody machete in his hand, then to the bodies piled at the gate—not just those of the enemy but their own as well. The sight serves as a grim reminder of the cost of survival.

His gaze, heavy with grief and exhaustion, scans the area for Alie. The town center is crowded, a mosaic of faces of all shades and ages, people standing and waiting, hovering in a collective anticipation of what comes next. And he finally spots her across the square, her presence grounding as she completes her own rounds, her husband at her side engaged in hushed conversation.

In that moment, as Gabriel observes her—from the large military jacket that hangs loosely on her frame, to the blood on her face, a symbol of her resilience and the burdens she carries—he reflects on his own journey and his fears of mortality. Ever since his days in Atlanta, ever since the horrifying moment he locked out his congregation, he has been searching for redemption. He had prayed that when his end came, it would be meaningful, purposeful. Today, faced with the very real prospect of death, he was paralyzed by instinctual fear, yet he was ready to give a sacrifice worthy of his community. Because now, he had someone to believe in, someone whose light seemed to defy the ever-growing darkness that fights to swallow her.

Even now, his gaze follows Alie through the crowd, which parts to let her pass. She reaches for Cyndie among the people, guiding the younger woman with a reassuring touch. They head towards where Rick, Maggie, Ezekiel, Carol, and Jesus are deep in conversation, likely deliberating the path forward.

Alie says a few words to the other leaders, then speaks briefly with her husband before rounding toward a truck parked behind them. Daryl lifts her by her waist onto the truck bed with an easy familiarity, then assists Cyndie. Jesus aids Maggie, while Rick and Ezekiel climb up without assistance.

As the five leaders stand before the communities, a reverent hush falls over the crowd. Everyone's attention is riveted on them, anticipation hanging in the air. Gabriel finds himself moving closer, knowing that whatever words are spoken next will shape the days to come. He watches, hopeful and anxious, as Alie prepares to address the gathered crowd.

Her voice, strong and unwavering, reverberates against the walls of Alexandria. "Today, we stand in the heart of Alexandria not just as survivors, but as defenders of our right to live in a world that has tried time and again to strip us of our humanity. Each one of you, from the proud fighters of the Kingdom to the resilient women of Oceanside, from the courageous souls at Hilltop to every brave heart that beats within these walls—today we celebrate a small victory, and honor what we've gained in one another." Her words spark a tidal wave of cheers, as many acknowledge the people around them, many of whom were strangers just hours ago.

With a gentle raise of her hand, Alie brings the crowd back to the moment at hand. "Yet, let us not forget, our war is far from over. At this moment, I am reminded of a lesson my father once taught me: 'Memento mori'—a Latin phrase meaning—remember that you will die. In this world, death shadows every step we take, ever-present, as constant as the air we breathe. To the Saviors, we might as well be dead men walking. However, it does not discourage us, because knowing that death is inevitable only fuels our courage to fight for every precious moment of life."

She pauses, her gaze shifting over to the grim display of corpses piled by the gate, clearly visible from her elevated position. "It didn't have to be this way, not when the world has already beaten us to our knees," her voice softens, faltering slightly as her fingers move to touch the two military dog tags hanging at her neck. "Every life lost is a tragedy. What could have been. To make it this far… What a heartbreak. What a waste. How utterly meaningless this violence is."

She shakes her head, tears beginning to well in her eyes, her jaw sets firm, holding the crowd breathless with the palpable tension. "But as we stand here, at the crossroads of survival and surrender, we understand there are those like Negan and the Saviors, who want to use us as stepping stones for their own survival, to crush us under the heel of oppression, for greed and power, as if our lives are meaningless!"

She steps forward, her finger pointing accusatorily, her face flushed red with rage, tears barely held as her voice rises. "To them, we say, hear this: If we must die, we go down fighting! If we must stand in the path of the storm, then we will make it count! For Alexandria! For the Kingdom! For Hilltop! And for Oceanside!" Her cry echoes, a rallying scream that sweeps through the crowd. Gabriel, too, joins in, his fist raised high in the air, his spirit alight with fierce determination to fight, to survive.

"We fight not because we hate what is in front of us, but because we love what is behind us, what still could be! This fight—our fight—is about justice, freedom, preserving the hope for a peaceful future, for a world where our kids no longer have to fear the night or dread the dawn!

So when we march forward, we do it with the memory of the fallen, the ones that brought us this far, the love for our families driving us! If we must fall, then we fall like warriors, not in vain, but with purpose! We face death not with fear but with defiance!

Together, we are writing the story of the new world! And let it be a story of bravery, of resilience, and of unity! Let it be a story that will be told for generations to come, about how we stood together, fought together, rebuilt together, and yes, even died together!"

There is a pause, allowing her words to resonate with the gathered crowd, her voice softening. "So remember—memento mori—as we forge ahead, we look death in the eyes and say," her voice suddenly surges with a ferocity, "'We are THE WALKING DEAD!'"

The cheer seems deafening, a surge of defiance roaring through the community. Ezekiel, as he hollers joyously, reaches for Maggie's hand beside him, lifting it high. With a smile, Maggie reaches for Rick, who, in turn, extends his hand to Cyndie. However, Alie steps aside from this moment of collective solidarity. Instead, she turns toward her husband, her arms raised like a child seeking comfort.

Daryl moves quickly to lift her down from the truck bed, but instead of setting her on the ground, she wraps her arms tightly around his neck. Suspended in his embrace, her feet dangles above the ground, her face buried in his neck, held tightly to his chest. The moment feels intensely personal, a stark contrast to the communal spirit around them.

Yet, Gabriel watches this tender exchange with a broad smile before shifting his gaze toward the sky. With a smile on his face, he quietly recites a Bible verse he has come to associate with Alice: "'Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send, and who will go for us...'"


Notes:

Thank goodness Jadis is finally out of the picture. As I've mentioned before, she and the scavengers didn't really contribute much to the show. Negan already knew the plan through Gregory, and he jumped on Rick and group without her help in the comics, so her group felt superfluous. Besides, this story won't lead to "The ones who live," but instead, it will take the comic book approach.