-Mikey-
THEN...
"D'you worry about death?"
The question made Mikey laugh. He tried not to choke on the dust and grit trapped in his lungs. Magna grunted at him, not finding her question funny. Mikey slowly suppressed his raspy chuckles, feeling delirious. He was pretty sure one of the rocks from the cave-in had hit his head.
"No," Mikey finally said, sweat trickling down his aching skull. "No, I don't think so."
Mikey could feel Connie's knee digging against his side. They'd spent hours travelling through the caves. The explosion had opened up new tunnels that had brought them closer to the herd, which now blocked them from going any further. They planned to try another way after some rest. Mikey had to take his glasses off with all the dirt covering them, and with their torches off to save what little battery they had, he couldn't see anyway. But the blinding darkness had left Connie out of the conversation.
"I do," Magna spoke from somewhere in front of him. All of them were sat in a narrow passage that led nowhere to avoid detection. "I worry about it all the time."
"Why?" Mikey asked the dark.
"Because I worry that when it's over I'll regret having made it this far." Magna paused. She coughed up what sounded like a handful of grit and rock. She took in a slow breath and her chest rattled. "We live to chew on shit, Em. Then we complain that the shit is too tough or there's too much shit to swallow. End of the day, it's still shit... and we're still chewin'."
Mikey felt the need to grimace, whether she could see it or not. "What are you even talking about?"
"Oh, screw you," Magna groaned.
"I'm scared of dying horribly," Mikey said after some thought. "And I'm scared people I love will die before me."
Magna snorted. "If you don't try to be the last man standing, you won't be."
"I'm okay with that."
"Living for other people," Magna sighed, her voice softer, "it's not what we're meant to do."
Mikey scoffed.
"I mean it," Magna said, again, gentler than her usual snarky inflexion. "I know I'm an asshole. I know I haven't done much to change that perception of me. But I'd still take that perception every damn day over living for anyone but myself. Some people," she huffed, "people like Yumi, like you and Sasha... you people spend your lives living for others."
"That's bad?"
"What happens when the people run out? What's Yumiko without something to hold together? What's Sasha without Rhys? Who are you without the people you love? One day, you wake up and realise you don't make choices. You don't take risks. You just do what you do for them."
Mikey shook his head. "You're delirious."
Magna chuckled. "Probably."
Growls surrounded him.
Shoulders pressed him up against other shoulders.
Back and forth, Mikey was shoved as they moved with the horde.
Magna's hand was in his — somewhere he couldn't see. Connie, holding Magna's other hand, was even further in the swallowing shadow of the horde. The walkers had begun to move from the caves. The three had no idea how long it had been. It must have been the Whisperers, though — the way they moved, with such purpose.
Only then did Mikey realise he was scared. Teeth snapping by his ears. The stink of his bloody skin. The booming static of their cacophony. The thought of how horrifying this death would be. In such a suffocating place under the dirt.
That's when his grip slipped, and Magna and Connie were gone.
And dirt is so compact.
Dust and rock had their way of pressing and pushing and trapping.
Keeping tight and holding down.
Mikey thought about that terrible death as he fought his way free from the hole he'd dug out of a low ceiling. There he lay after, on his back, drowning in the crust of blood and dirt, but alive. So alive that he curled into a ball and cackled. He lay in laughter until his stomach ached, and his head hurt, and he passed out.
NOW...
It was the dust in his throat that forced him awake, making him retch and gag until puke pushed it out and onto the forest floor. Mikey shivered from the morning dew that had settled over him while he was unconscious. His hair felt like wire. His skin was oily and wet. Hilltop could have been any direction. He couldn't feel his fingers enough to build a fire. Couldn't feel his legs enough to walk. Mikey could only hear the rushing of a stream, so he crawled. He snaked his way through the leaves until his head hung over the edge of the small embankment and he could reach the water. He splashed the blood and grime from his face, scrubbing mud from his hands before finding a tree nearby to rest beneath.
He knew better than to drink from the still water.
Mikey thought about Magna's question.
He wondered if he'd lied.
"Mikey?"
Mikey lifted his head, not in the least bit expecting who he saw towering over him.
"Downy?"
The silky black horse reared his heavy head, flicking his wirey white whiskers and swishing his tail in greeting to the boy he'd known for many years. Mikey leaned a little to his left, waiting and praying for a rider to enter his vision, hoping he hadn't just heard a horse say his name.
"Lydia?"
She struggled to get her foot from the stirrup before swinging her leg over the worn leather saddle, sliding off the giant mount, and rushing to Mikey's side.
Mikey groaned. "Hi..."
Lydia's face was a panic. "Oh my god, what happened?"
He winced. "A lot, I think."
She was good at building fires. Mikey watched as Lydia whipped one up faster than he could on his best day — using two sticks to get the first sparks that started the humble flames.
"Here," Lydia said, grabbing a blanket from under Downy's saddle and throwing it over Mikey, pulling it to his chin.
"Thank you..."
Lydia smiled loosely, sitting across the fire from him, her knees pulled to her chest. Downy clopped closer to chew gently on her hair.
"Lydia, what happened?" Mikey groaned once he didn't feel the frostbite anymore. "We came looking for you."
She nodded, biting her lip before meeting his eye. "Hilltop's gone. My mom ran her horde through it."
"What?" Mikey tried to sit up. "Did anyone—?"
"I've only run into Negan since I left."
Mikey's stomach turned. "Negan?"
She nodded but didn't say anymore.
"How'd you find him?" Mikey quickly changed the subject, pointing his chin towards the horse still nibbling at her head, since she didn't bother to swat him away.
"He found me," she said quietly, lifting a hand to press against Downy's nose, smirking as he snuffled against it. "After I got away."
"From Hilltop?"
"From Negan," she said. "He was with my mother. Blocked the roads to keep us in. Helped her take down the walls. He tied me to a chair in this cabin... said he had to end this whole thing with Alpha."
Mikey pushed off from the tree to his back, sitting up. "Shit..."
"You— you should rest," Lydia tried.
"You know where people will be regrouping?" Mikey asked her.
Lydia nodded, swaddling herself in her arms. "An old cabin. 'Bout two miles east of Hilltop."
Mikey was up, stomping on the fire and pulling on his jumper that Lydia had hung to dry after doing her best to wash the dirt from it in the river.
"Take DB and get yourself there," Mikey told her. "Tell Daryl, Sasha, Carl, Rhys... if they made it... tell them where you last saw Negan. They'll be able to track him."
Lydia jumped up. "Where are you going?"
"Go." Mikey shook his head. "Go now."
Mikey took a long enough time to get his bearings.
His compass had broken during the cave-in.
His map looked like it was beaten worse than he had been.
If it wasn't for him stumbling across an overgrown dairy pasture marked on his map, he wouldn't have been able to work out where he was.
"Did you come alone, asshole?"
Mikey heard Carol's voice up ahead. He ducked behind a tree to scout out the clearing up ahead beside a wallowing and overgrown oak.
"I heard you were one to get to the point, but damn, lady... can't we start with hello?"
It was Negan's voice that sent Mikey crashing through the underbrush, making both of them jump.
The three of them stood, chests puffed out like they were ready for a stand-off, in the clearing so small that it couldn't have been a coincidence.
"Mikey?" Carol gasped, taking a step closer until she noticed the knife he was brandishing in Negan's direction.
"Fuck me, kid, you look like ass," Negan said, taking a step in the opposite direction, eyes wide and very much focused on the knife.
Carol couldn't get the stunned look of her face. "I thought— we all thought—"
"He attacked Lydia," Mikey choked out, knife still pointed firmly at Negan.
Carol frowned deeply, touching Henry's staff slung over her back.
"Listen, Mikey..." Negan took a cautious step forward, several feet still between them. "It was always gonna take time."
"Enough with your lies!" Mikey barked.
"I just needed to get Lydia out of the way," Negan groaned.
Mikey was starting to notice the small potato sack gripped tightly in Negan's hand that was leaking a thick, red fluid.
Negan took another step forward. "Needed to build up some trust..."
"Spit it out," Carol groaned, sheathing the knife she'd drawn when Mikey jumped out at them.
Negan rolled his eyes, grabbing the bottom of the sack and shaking out the contents.
A pallid white head tumbled out and rolled along the forest floor to where it stopped against Carol's boot, snapping up at her. Alpha's teeth already started to look rotten. Her pale eyes almost seemed to have kept some shock in their cloudy, yellowing pupils.
"Took you long enough," Carol huffed, nodding to Negan.
Negan grunted, wincing as he stared the two down.
Mikey lowered his knife, staring at the head until he could be sure.
Being sure mattered.
Being sure about his map...
Being sure about where he was...
Being sure this was the same clearing they'd all discussed in that cell.
"This wasn't the plan," Mikey said.
"The hell it wasn't. You two wanted a headsman... there's your damn head."
"C'mon," Carol sighed, bending down to pick up Alpha's head, careful to avoid the teeth. She took a deeply satisfied breath as she held it between her hands. Carol snatched the sack from Negan and stuffed the head back in. "We're not done yet."
The woods were quiet as they followed her. Carol had told Mikey about the next step of the plan.
A plan they made that night they'd visited Negan in his cell while everyone at Alexandria was in disarray...
It was dark, and no one saw them...
"Well, as I live and breathe... if you'd brought Gabey, I would've been expecting my last rites from you, Mikey-boy. But hosting the once-upon-a-time queen in my humble cell? To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Carol had spoken first.
"You want forgiveness, right?"
Back then, that night, Mikey had thought that Negan found the question funny. Maybe he just didn't care.
"I've done what I've done... ain't gettin' on my knees about it."
Carol had seemed to find that funny. But again, thinking back on it, maybe Mikey had just seen how much of a joke she thought it was... them asking him for help. The forgiveness that they'd have to ask for after.
Forgiveness from those gone and those still present.
Carol pressed on.
"So what do you want?"
That was a question Negan definitely got some amusement from — him wanting something; people caring about it.
Negan chuckled. "A T-bone, beer, maybe a scoop of rocky road. Matters to you what I want?"
Mikey wished he'd said more on that night. Though, maybe not, since he regretted most of what he did say.
Mikey sighed. "I've gotten to know you, Negan... I have. I know you don't want to die."
"Well, who does?"
"We can make sure you don't."
"Oh, yeah? Are you and Carol here gonna change the opinion of the kangaroo council? Sway that vote?"
Mikey swallowed. "This isn't official."
"Course not. You're the perfect man for the job... hell, even I didn't see it coming. No one would expect you to let me go. Bet you'll even vote for my head on a platter to help cover your tracks."
Carol had gotten tired of their talk pretty fast.
"Kill Apha for us," she'd asked.
"Damn girl, the stones on you! The fallen queen knockin' down the skin queen. Love it."
"You in or out?"
"Can't blame a guy for askin'... word around here is you're a certified bad-ass. You missed your shot. What happens if I muff it, too? Could make things a hell of a lot worse for every man, woman, and child behind these walls... and despite what people think of me, I am absolutely not down with that."
Carol had cut in before Mikey could.
"I need this done. And that will help every man, woman, and child here."
Negan's eyes had found Mikey's.
"And how about you? You cool with the fact it might end badly for these people you're meant to keep safe?"
Mikey was sure in his answer then.
"People have already died. This is our best shot to finish it quickly."
"Don't wanna work out a peace?"
"I tried. But when I spoke to that woman... when I saw her eyes. She'll never stop until we're all dead."
"And what do I get out of it?"
Carol had rolled her head to one side and looked him up and down from the other side of the bars.
"You've been eating whatever shit we throw your way. Hoping that one day they'll all forget. They won't. Not unless you do something to make them forget. You bring us Alpha's head... and that's what the people will remember you for. If you do it fast, I'll make sure of it."
Mikey had pulled the keys to the cell from his pocket.
"I will, too, Negan. If you make sure no one gets hurt... I give you my word."
But that was then...
Carol did exactly as she'd always planned. Mikey and Negan stood idly by as she skewered Alpha's hissing skull on one of the spikes marking their border.
Mikey saw Enid as he stared at the snapping head. He saw them all.
Negan squatted down to the floor, his face a sour grimace, watching Carol as she took a moment to look at what they'd done. Mikey held his arms across his chest, keeping his eyes on the tree line.
Negan cleared his throat. "This what you wanted?"
Carol nodded silently.
"Alright," Negan sighed, finding his feet. "What do you say we get moving?"
Carol couldn't take her eyes off Alpha. Mikey's stomach was turning something awful.
"Alexandria— our deal," Negan urged them. "Let's start spreading the news."
Carol suddenly turned to face him, her eyes streaming with fresh tears.
"What took you so damn long?"
Negan's croaky laugh of disbelief was like an old engine turning on. "What took me so long? Doing your dirty work? I don't know... I guess I wanted to get out of there with my head still attached. Shit like that takes time."
"I told you to do it fast!" Carol spat.
Negan's glare was fowl. "It's done. Alright? I held up my end. Now I am asking you to hold up yours. Just walk me through those gates so I can open up a new chapter in the book of Negan."
Carol glanced towards the tree line Mikey had been watching, the cut on her forehead swollen and red as she furrowed her brow. "I'm not going back... not yet."
"What about you, Mikey?" Negan turned to him. "You going back on your word?"
Mikey hadn't said a word to him since the clearing. He'd been somewhere deep in his head the whole way here.
Mikey's voice was hardly a whisper. "You said you didn't want people to die..."
"I didn't."
"Lydia told me what happened. All those people at Hilltop. The kids... Gracie."
"Mikey..."
"What?!" he yelled at him. "What possible excuse do you have lined up for me now? What's the next lie that I'm going to swallow?"
"I wasn't lying."
"I've forgiven so much Negan. Glenn and Abraham... Olivia... My brother... every other person that's died because of you. I've tried to move past it, hoping that one day you'd actually change."
"Mikey—"
"We're done, Negan."
Mikey left them there.