A/N: Life's been a little busy lately, but I haven't forgotten this story and I'm aiming for more regular updates. Thanks for sticking with it!


Naomi

I hadn't realized how much of my soul Sanctuary had drained until I felt some of it flood back. Rick waved to us from the top of Alexandria's walls as the gates swung open. His other hand held a walkie to his mouth.

It wouldn't have been hard for anywhere to feel homey compared to the drab ex-factory with its hostile inhabitants, but Alexandria has always been special. This place had taken me in at my lowest; it was where I'd been reunited with Daryl. It was where I'd kissed him for the first time, told him I loved him, and heard him yell it back...

He should be here.

Guilt carved a sharp edge to any feeling of homecoming I might have had, but I tried not to let it show. Excitement radiated from Mia. She'd grown restless the closer we'd gotten, and now she was craning forward in her seat to see as much as possible. Perla and Lucas were waiting for us on the other side of the gates. I'd barely stopped the car before Mia had unclipped her seatbelt. By the time I'd unfastened my own, she'd leaped out without bothering to close the door behind her or pick up her bag from the backseat. I stepped out of the car just as the girls started screaming and hugging each other.

"How do they manage to reach decibels only dogs can hear?" Lucas winced as I hugged him hello. Oblivious to us or anyone else, the girls dissolved into giggles about something. After weeks of Mia's sulking, it was music to my ears.

"Beats me," I shrugged. I remembered girls greeting their friends with the same high-pitched excitement at the school gates after summer, but I'd never been one of them. If I'd tried that with Daryl, he'd have turned around and gone home again.

"Was your journey okay?" Lucas asked.

"Yeah. We passed Aaron and the others on their way to Sanctuary." I said. They'd been more than halfway there when we'd driven past - windows rolled down, whooping and hollering at each other from the sheer novelty of passing a friendly car on empty roads. "They're probably there by now."

"Yeah, they arrived in one piece," Rick said from behind me. He'd climbed down from the lookout to join us. I felt a twinge of embarrassment about how frantic I'd been when I'd called him and barked orders at him like I was the one in charge. If he thought I'd stepped out of line, there wasn't a hint of animosity on his face. He didn't seem to have found my panic anything other than mildly amusing.

"Daryl's staying. I…" I trailed off, unsure how to explain the sudden change of plans. The further we were from Sanctuary, the flimsier my reasons for coming here seemed. Standing here now, with Mia safe and happy, they could've blown away on a breeze.

"Yes, he told me," Rick said, tapping the walkie he'd been speaking into when we arrived.

"That was Daryl?" I asked, annoyed at my heart for fluttering so much.

"He asked me to let him know when you got here," Rick said. There was a glint in his eye when he said, "You can call him back, tell him yourself if you like. I'm sure he's not gone far from the radio."

My fingertips tingled with the promise of reaching for the walkie and hearing his voice close in my ear.

Pathetic.

Get a grip, Naomi.

There was no need for me to call and tell him something he already knew. He'd be baffled that I was calling for no reason, maybe even pissed that I was taking him away from important shit. And for what? Because I missed him? Already? He'd never let me live it down.

"Nah, it's fine," I said casually. That glint in Rick's eye didn't budge, forcing me to recognize that it was a reflection of something radiating from me - a flashing neon sign that told everyone I was now the kind of person who was clinically obsessed with her own boyfriend.

Terrible.

Daryl, what the hell have you done to me?

As happy I was to be standing in Alexandria, I couldn't shake a deep pull back the way we'd come. The wind chilled the gaps between my fingers, and I couldn't remember being aware of the emptiness of my own hand before. I curled them into a loose fist that was no substitute for how Daryl's hand fitted in mine and kept them warm.

Rick put a hand on my back and firmly steered me away from the gates as if he could sense my urge to bolt. A few paces in, Lucas excused himself but wouldn't look me in the eye as he ducked away. Carl tipped his hat to us on his way to meet Mia and Perla. I hoped for his sake that they'd have calmed down when he reached them.

The smile on Rick's face didn't move, and he walked me through Alexandira, taking the time to point out the small changes since we'd last been here. A newcomer could be forgiven for not knowing that so much of it had recently been rubble and ash. It would never look the same. But in the future, when another group like the Saviours inevitably came along, they might look at our high walls and battle-scarred homes and think twice about testing us.

When we reached Rick's, he asked about my run-in with Negan. Or rather, my alleged run-in.

The questions Rick asked were, on the face of it, no different from the ones Daryl had asked. But it wasn't Daryl asking anymore. Daryl's frown was as unwavering as his belief in me; Rick's smile shone with doubt. Rick had this way of asking - a slight raise in his left eyebrow, a glint in his eye, a habit of repeating any word or phrase that sounded uncertain - that made me feel uneasy. It was an unease some people might have mistaken for uncertainty in their own story, but I held fast to mine. I knew. I knew it in my gut.

As Rick was easing off, the front door clicked open. Lucas had returned with Michonne. When she grinned at me over a stack of books in her arms, I understood Mia's impulse to squeal. I wondered if Michonne felt it too.

"I have so much to show you," she said. The table shook when she dropped the books down on it. Rick shot her a meaningful glance, and I watched her suppress a piece of her own enthusiasm. "But, first things first, I guess we should talk about Negan."

"I already told Rick," I said, calm as anything. "I didn't see him. But he was there."

"Oh," Michonne said. I caught her quick glance toward Rick, which was too fast to decipher. "Not that. I mean, what to do when we find him?"

"If," Rick said, quiet but firm. "If we find him."

"We will," Michonne said in much the same way, and relief sparked in my chest. Michonne didn't think I was losing my mind; she might have been the only one who genuinely believed me.

It was hard to tell with Daryl. Even if he saw clear as day that I was marching down the path of insanity, I knew he'd be right there with me. Holding matching straight-jackets.

"We've thought about it a lot," Michonne said. "Talked about it with the other community leaders too, and with some exceptions, most agree it would be best if we can bring Negan in quietly. Keep him here until we can hold some kind of trial."

None of this came as a shock. They'd been drifting this way since Carl's outburst at Sanctuary, but this conversation formalized it. Telling me was the full stop on a sentence that had already been written.

Making a martyr out of Negan could make an already frayed situation worse. I knew this, and yet my heart still sank. All I could think about was the picture of Daryl and Mia with their eyes scratched out. The snap of a twig underfoot. My certainty that he was out there somewhere with nothing to do but scheme.

"The cell Morgan built is ready for him," Rick said. "It's secure. So, if he shows up or Daryl finds him in the next few days, bring him here. We can deal with him together."

I'm sure it was meant to sound like Rick had our back, but given how skeptical he was that Negan was even out there, it felt like someone telling you to stop worrying mid-panic attack. Or recommending jogging when you're too depressed to move from the sofa for long enough to find the remote to change the channel, so you end up watching the same episode of Criminal Minds when it comes on at 3 and 8pm, and then again at 2am the following day.

But I didn't say any of that. All I said was, "Doubt he'll come quietly."

"I know," Michonne said. "But if he's out there on his own, he's got a long Winter ahead of him. Might just be enough to break him."

"Right," I said like I agreed, but I didn't believe it in a million years. The implication that Negan would face anything terrible enough to turn himself in was laughable. Negan would freeze to death before he knocked on our doors to ask for help.

"Of course," Rick said. "If he threatens anyone, if he seems dangerous, we know you'll do what's necessary."

"I know," I said, too tired to fight the inevitable. Especially when it was the right thing to do. Cleaving Negan's head from his shoulders would feel good in the moment, but if it made Sanctuary even less safe for Mia, it wasn't worth it.

"Are you okay with this?" Rick pressed. Clearly, he'd been waiting for me to blow my top. "With all of your… history with Negan?"

"It's for the best," I said. "The last thing we need is to give the Saviours a reason to fight again. At least if there's some kind of trial, everyone can have their say."

I didn't add that this included whatever Negan had to say for himself. In a truly fair trial, he'd have the right to defend himself, and I didn't want to hear the shit that would come out of his mouth in his own slimy defense. Or the jokes he'd crack with himself as the target audience. I wanted him gone for good.

"Good to know you're on board," Rick said. There was a point to it, laden with meaning. I'm not sure if he knew he'd given himself away or if he expected me to miss it, but I didn't. I bristled.

"Why? Because Daryl ain't gonna be?" I said. Since Negan had tried to use our relationship to break us into submission, I'd been more acutely aware of other people using it as leverage. I would do unspeakable things for Daryl. There were very few lines I wouldn't cross to protect him, but this only remained a strength as long as we were the ones in control.

"Yes," Rick admitted. "I know what he thinks about this, but I've got a feeling he'll listen to you."

I had a sudden but powerful urge to tell him to go to hell. Daryl had his own mind, and I didn't like it when people implied I could puppet him like a brainwashed idiot.

"Who are the other exceptions?" I asked to distract myself. "You said some people didn't agree to keeping Negan alive?"

"Maggie, for one," Michonne said. "I think she's nervous because of the number of ex-Saviours Hilltop has taken on. She's also a little worried about Hilltop having to produce enough food for everyone."

"That makes two of us," I said. "Shit just doesn't grow at Sanctuary. And the stuff that does, it's… it ain't great."

"Give it time," Rick said soothingly. "It'll grow."

I nodded. I knew it was early days, but there was something about the soil at Sanctuary that stunted everything. Things would take root and die. Anything that survived left the same bitter aftertaste. Rationally, I knew that whatever chemicals the factory had discarded in its day had seeped into the soil and spoiled it for generations to come. But it felt like a stain of Negan's legacy, his parting blow to us.

"Scavenging is getting harder, too," I said. "I've been trying to push groups out to find something that can help us lessen the burden on Hilltop, but most places near us are picked clean."

"It's the same here," Rick said, surprisingly laid back about it. "We've been looking into… new areas."

"Really?" I said, struggling to think of any place on Alexandria's maps that had yet to be tried. "Where?"

"Your old haunt, actually," Rick said with a smile. My mind remained blank, which must have shown on my face because Rick had to add, "DC."

"We thought we might pick your brains about it," Michonne said. "See if we've missed any potential areas of interest."

I couldn't place what it was that hit so hard. It wasn't that much that my life in DC felt so far removed from my life now that it was difficult to picture what might have become of it. I'd never been overly attached to the place.

"I thought Eugene said the road was impassable?" I said, still unable to place my unease.

"It was," Rick said. "But it looks like the Walkers have moved on."

Even the Walkers have moved on.

That was it.

That was what stung.

While we were treading water at Sanctuary, stuck in the not-distant-enough repercussions of war, everyone else was putting it behind them. Rick and Michonne had already learned to say Negan's name without any of the edge it held at Sanctuary. His grip on them was lessening with each passing day, and they could move on. Push forward. Expand. Every day at Sanctuary felt like a fight to stay in the same place, to stop it from slipping back to its old ways. And here was Alexandria - growing.

"We're taking it slow, of course," Rick said when I couldn't say anything. "You never know how many other groups are out there. The last thing we need is another turf war. So we're sending small groups, pushing further North to get a feel for what's out there."

"Sounds sensible," I said. My mouth felt dry. I was caught between pride in everything our friends were building and fear that they would leave us behind.

"Maggie is desperate to come with us," Michonne said. "And see if she can pick up anything to aid food production at Hilltop. But she'll probably be too far along by the time we make any progress."

"How are she and the baby doing?" I asked. It felt like years since we'd last seen them. "She must be showing by now."

"Both doing great," Michonne said. "I think the pregnancy is the least of her worries right now."

"Really?" I couldn't hide my disbelief. "Can't think of anything more terrifying."

"Than being pregnant?" Michonne said, a little amused.

"Yeah."

"It's a fucked up world to bring a kid into, that's for sure," Michonne said. "But Maggie and Glenn have got this. They've got all of us, too. Their kid's going to be fine."

"Oh, I know. They'll be kickass parents," I said without hesitation. "Actually, I hadn't factored in the whole living-dead situation. But shit, that makes them twice as brave. Or twice as mad."

"Oh," Michonne gave a laugh of surprise. "You mean pregnancy terrified you before you had to think about fighting the undead or a bunch of psychopaths for the dwindling resources left in our dying civilization?"

"Yup," I said. "When my Momma was pregnant with Mia, I read every book about it I could get my hands on, and… the things I learned kept me up at night. Stephen King was a breeze in comparison."

"It's not so bad," Michonne said with a quiet knowing. My heart dropped.

"Shit." I didn't need to ask what had happened; nobody needed to ask anymore. The same thing happened to all of us in different shades of tragedy. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I can't imagine…."

"I had a son," Michonne said. "Before everything went to shit. And for a little while after."

I tried to imagine it, and my throat closed up. There was always a feeling tucked in the back of my mind, reminding me how lucky I was that I'd kept Mia with me and found Daryl. But moments like this brought it right to the surface.

"I'm so sorry," I said again.

"It's okay," Michonne said. "I'm okay. I wasn't for a long while, it's a loss you carry forever, but eventually, you learn to make room for good things again."

Michonne and Rick shared another glance, but I understood this one. It held the joy of their relationship, her friendship with Carl, and her love for Judith. All things that came after the worst moment of her life. Proof that life goes on. I didn't know how she was still here, how she could still smile. I didn't know how Carol kept going. They were much stronger women than I could ever hope to be.

The thought of how many organs I'd have to rearrange to make room for that loss made my head spin. Unless I was lucky enough to die first, I'd lose Daryl one day. Even worse, if I was unluckier still, I'd live long enough to put Mia in the ground.

At the end of the day, that was all it boiled down to - luck. Michonne was strong, smart, and brave, and still lost her kid. Carol was one of the most badass women I'd ever met, and she'd still had to watch her daughter turn into one of the undead. It didn't matter how carefully I planned or how well I fought; if luck decided to stop smiling down on me, I could lose them in a heartbeat.

Some grief is so enormous I think the impact can ripple back in time and touch you before you've even lost that person. I felt it then. An acute wave of pain from a future I dreaded.

I reached across the table and laid my hand on Michonne's, wishing there was a way of explaining how we ache for the pain of those we care about that was better than, 'I'm sorry.'

"Losing him was awful. Pregnancy could be awful at times, too; you're not wrong about that," Michonne added with a light laugh. "But both were worth it for the time I got to be his Mom. When you have you're own, you'll see."

"Oh, I don't want -" I stopped myself. My knee-jerk reaction to the 'when-are-you-having-kids' conversation that inevitably reared its ugly head every few months when I hit my twenties was, 'I don't want children. Motherhood isn't something I see for myself.' In my mind, pregnancy and being a parent were the hardest things you could do. And God knows, not everyone was fit to do it. Not everyone deserved it.

Of course, this was the first time I'd faced this question when I'd been with someone I not only planned to spend the rest of my life with but actively couldn't imagine my life without. Until now, any time I'd pictured raising a kid, I'd had to do it alone. Like Momma. Because I didn't think anyone would stick around.

"Sorry, I just assumed because Daryl's… well, you know…." Michonne laughed again, and I tried to laugh it off too, but it was hard because I did know. I knew it all too well.

Incredible with kids.

Exactly the kind of man you'd want to raise a family with.

Exactly the kind of man who wants a family.

I felt the room sway underneath me, like a ship pitching in a storm and throwing me into the cold realization that I might not be able to give Daryl the life he wanted. For all of our similarities, wasn't being on completely different pages when it came to big life goals what had kept us apart before? Daryl's dedication to his family and my need to be as far from mine as possible?

We'd shared roots entwined in the past and grown in different directions. What if the gap was too big?

I smiled and pushed the weight of it deep down. I couldn't start tearing up in front of Rick and Michonne; I wasn't sure they'd get it. I wasn't sure anyone would.

The panic would grip me later; I was delaying the inevitable. I felt it stalking me as we talked through various places in DC that might be profitable to scavenge. It sat on my shoulder and peered over the legal documents Michonne had drafted as guidance for dealing with Negan and anyone else in our communities who broke the rules. At dinner with Lucas and the kids, it slithered down my throat and made my food taste like bile. Reminding me, with every mouthful and every laugh, that I was on borrowed time.

It was only when I was alone, in bed with the light turned off, that it spread. Springing up from my gut and flowing, cold panic in my veins.

What if I can't give him what he wants?

Every possible way a pregnancy could go wrong had been seared into my brain since I was sixteen. I knew the complications. The mortality rates - of both mother and baby, before and after modern medicine. I knew that now, more than ever, pregnancy could be a death sentence for some people. It spun round and round in my mind and made me feel...

Queasy.

Let me tell you, queasy is the exact opposite of how you want to feel when panicking about a hypothetical pregnancy.

No, it's okay. We've been so careful.

Nothing is 100%.

I put my hand across my lower stomach, like that would be able to tell me anything, and felt my pulse beating in my palm like a kick.

Stop.

It wasn't that I was squeamish about the process - I was squeamish about all it represented. All of this had felt so… far away. Something other people had to worry about. Long-term relationships weren't my thing, so marriage and babies probably weren't either. I was already raising Mia; she was enough family for me. I'd lived my whole life under that assumption.

And, now?

Picturing Daryl as a dad was easy as taking a breath. But picturing myself as a Mom? I'd never been in a serious enough relationship to do that kind of thought experiment. And now, I couldn't move past the ordeal of pregnancy and childbirth.

Momma always said that I was a difficult pregnancy, and that's what got her hooked on painkillers.

Can you be a good Mom if you never had a good one to learn from?

Having me destroyed her.

I got out of bed, convinced I was not only seconds from spewing but that the sickness was because I was already pregnant. I paced the bathroom for a few minutes, and nothing happened. I went downstairs quietly to not wake Lucas, who was asleep on the sofa. I drank two glasses of water without pausing for breath; I don't know why I thought it would help. Or how it could flush the anxiety out of me. I caught sight of my own face in the dark window. As pale and as translucent as I felt.

What if I can't give him the life he wants?

I felt like I was about to tip backward, that some dark abyss had opened right behind my heels. In the dark of the kitchen, I didn't dare turn around to check.

"You can put the lights on, you know," Lucas's voice was the most solid thing in the room. A rope for me to hold onto and pull myself up again.

"I was trying not to wake you," I said, hoping I looked more emotionally stable than I felt.

"Sounds like there's no danger of us getting any sleep until they do," Lucas said with a tired smile and a glance at the ceiling. It was only then that I heard Mia and Perla whispering in the way only girls at a sleepover can - somehow louder than if they'd spoken at normal volume.

"Right, yeah," I said, with a laugh that I hoped implied that I, too, had been kept awake by them and not my own brain going into overdrive about something that wasn't even happening.

Every now and then, a giggle would burst through the ceiling. It was the kind of behavior I wouldn't have tolerated before, but now that the world had ended slumber parties and the nonsense that came with them, it felt too miraculous to get mad at. So I'd have to grin and bear it if Mia was cranky from lack of sleep tomorrow.

"You okay?" Lucas asked, which was all I needed to tell me that I looked like shit.

"Yeah," I said. I knew it wasn't convincing, but talking about anything personal felt like betraying Daryl, so I added, "Just... DC, huh?"

"Yeah, that must be weird for you," Lucas said. I'd spent so long living with someone who knew me inside out I'd forgotten how easy it can be to have a lie accepted at face value. "Can't even imagine what New York looks like now. I wonder if it's still standing. It must have been carnage when all of this broke out."

"Fancy a trip?"

"Weekend break, yeah?" Lucas grinned.

"Yeah," I grinned back. "I've always wanted to see something on Broadway."

"I'm sure even this wasn't enough to shut down Phantom of the Opera," Lucas said. "I'll tell the girls to get packed."

I laughed. The sick feeling in my stomach was fading to background noise. Sometimes, all I needed was a distraction. Another burst of laughter erupted through the ceiling, followed by loud shushing.

"I've got to say," Lucas said. "Mia's taking all of this extremely well."

"She doesn't know the extent of it," I said. "She thinks this is a social call."

"You haven't told her?"

"How do you tell a kid that she's been threatened by an exiled homicidal manic?" I said. "She's already been through so much. When she and Carl started advocating for us not to kill Negan, it was kind of nice... to see she hadn't become all fearful and jaded like the rest of us. I'll tell her if I have to But, until then..."

Another burst of laughter made me smile.

All I had ever wanted was to give her more than I'd had - a safe and stable home. If the time came when she needed to know so that she could be alert and protect herself, I'd tell her. Like I'd trained her to fight Walkers, I'd teach her to fight people. Kill if she had to. But until that day, I wanted her to enjoy what was left of her childhood as much as possible.

I'd burn the whole place to the ground before I let Negan get near her. Then, I'd walk away from the ashes and let him send cryptic messages to silence.

"Right. I'm going to go read the riot act at those two," I said with a glance at the ceiling. "See if the four of us can actually manage some shut-eye tonight."

I didn't mind it, but they were clearly keeping Lucas up. He looked appreciative of my offer to get them to quiet down. We said goodnight for the second time, and I climbed the stairs to pretend to be mad at the girls for being up so late. I faked it well enough, and after a few minutes of slightly more stifled whispering, they settled down.

I felt more settled, too. The anxiety that had pulled me out of bed had dulled from a roar to a background hum. When I woke up with the mild abdominal cramps that announced the start of my period, I could have cried with relief.

Daryl

"Daryl!" he was in another room, but I knew from Glenn's tone that it was important. The kind of bluntness that breaks through everything else to sharpen your focus. Bryce and I stopped searching the backpack of one of the Savior's kids and headed back into the hallway. "We got something."

Glenn stepped out of the room next to the one Bryce and I were searching through. I could tell what he was holding from the strap looping around his knuckles. Naomi's bag. He held it up, and I could see the little hole where Knievel had been fixed to the front before he'd been torn off and nailed to a wall. It made me want to punch holes in everything else.

"Who's room is that?" I asked, nodding to the door he'd just come out of. I was sure I already knew the answer, but I needed confirmation.

"It's, eh…." Jerry hesitated. "Justin, Ron, Ala-"

I fucking knew it.

"Get him."

"Get…?"

"Justin," his name tasted like fucking poison, sucked out of a wound, and spat at the ground. "Get him. Bring him here."

I thought I'd feel like a smug asshole if something turned up in Justin's room. Thought I'd get to feel a little bit of an 'I told you so' high. But I didn't. I was terrified by every second Naomi had spent alone with that creep. Every smile he'd ever flashed her way, knowing full well he was tormenting her, lit some fuse in me. Had he gotten some kind of sick kick out of bringing her coffee and watching her drink it, knowing he was the real reason she couldn't sleep at night?

When Jerry returned with him, and Justin looked around all wide-eyed and innocent, it took every little piece of my willpower not to deck him immediately.

"The hell's going on?" Justin said, his eyes taking in the group of us in their quarters. "That's why you've got us all out there unloading the shittiest haul of supplies I've ever seen from these assholes? Distract us while you search our rooms?"

"Shut up," I warned him.

Justin's shit-eating grin started to spread across his face when he saw I was getting to him. "I'm just saying… I ate a lot better when Negan collected from you guys."

I pushed him until his back hit the wall and pinned him with Naomi's bag against his chest. I shook it. Shook him. "Wanna explain this?"

He looked down at it and frowned slightly. "It's a bag."

"I fucking know it's a bag. What are you doing with it?"

"That's not mine," he said. I said nothing, just looked at him, so he knew I could smell bullshit. He waited for me to talk. When I didn't, he glanced down at the bag and then back up at me again. "Ain't my style, chief, but I'm sure you'd look great with it."

"Don't be a smartass."

"I've never seen this bag before," he shook his head.

"What's it doing in your room, then?"

"I ain't the only one in this room, asshole," Justin said. "Some of us don't have the luxury of our room, y'know. We gotta share. Especially since Rick and his band of pricks took over."

"So it's someone else's?"

"All I know is it ain't mine."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I don't give a shit what you believe."

I got real close. Real quiet. "You should."

I watched the panic cross his face. A tiny flicker of it in his eyes.

"You fucking planted it here, didn't you?" Justin said. "You put this shit in my room because you can't stand me getting close to your missus."

I punched him.

Turns out I ain't got that much willpower after all.

Justin hit the ground. I heard him groan and watched as he lifted a sleeve to blot the blood from his newly bust lip.

"Round 'em up," I told Jerry.

"Round who up?" Jerry asked quietly.

"Everyone from this room. Anyone close to 'em. Bring them to me."

Jerry nodded, but I caught the look he exchanged with Glenn before he left. Glenn didn't say anything but helped Justin to his feet. Aaron stepped close to his other side, and Bryce stood behind him, arms folded. Justin looked around, a little stunned to find himself surrounded. His shit-eating grin was gone for once, replaced by a look of confusion so strong that I almost fell for it.

"What the hell is going on?" he muttered. "It's just a bag."

I looked down at it. Remembered making it after I'd watched Naomi struggle through the hallways with armfuls of books she'd kept dropping. I'd felt too sick to eat lunch right before I'd gone to give it to her. I'd thought she'd laugh at me or think I was a cheap piece of shit for making her something instead of buying it. Even when she told me how much she liked it, I felt she must've been lying. Or pretending. To be nice.

But here it was. She'd carried it through to the end of the world.

I knew if I looked back at Justin, I'd punch him again, and nobody in this world would understand why.

I could feel something in the bag, and I'd put off opening it. Still felt like opening a lady's purse was wrong, violating Naomi's privacy. But someone else had already done that. Someone else had been hanging onto this for months. Might've dumped out whatever she'd had inside it and eaten the snacks she'd undoubtedly packed for herself. So I opened the bag and looked inside. Didn't expect to find much, but there was something in there. It was dark, black maybe, and blended into the darkness inside the bag. I reached in and closed my fingers around something cool and rectangular.

A walkie.

Something in the room shifted when I lifted it out. Hackles rose on both sides. I turned it over in my hands, confident that this wasn't something we knew about. Of course, all walkies look basically the same, but every walkie in Sanctuary had been inventoried and accounted for when we took over. If this one had been lying in Naomi's missing bag, there was no way we could have known about it.

"Hey," Justin said, the way someone might try to calm a bear in the woods. "I didn't know anything about that. Whatever's going on here, I didn't know, man."

I ignored him and held it up to Aaron and Glenn. They both leaned forward and squinted at the frequency settings, "Do either of you recognize this?"

"Nope," Aaron shook his head. "That's not one any of our communities are using."

Glenn nodded in agreement. It was something I'd already known, but it was good to have it confirmed because I knew I was on the edge of losing it. Anger has fueled all of my biggest mistakes, and it's hard to keep a reign on it.

Maybe Naomi'd had this walkie on her when Negan's cronies had snatched her up. Maybe it was left over from her Terminus days. It might have been tuned to some outdated frequency we'd all forgotten we'd once used. Perhaps it had been left alone so long that the battery was dead. I pushed a button. Heard the crackle.

Still a live connection?

I looked up at Justin. The color had drained from his face, and he was still shaking his head. Still muttering about how he'd had no idea this existed or how it had gotten into his room. But I had him. A cornered rat. Jerry and other guys from the Kingdom returned with the rest of the rat pack. Five guys in total. Some of them were worse at hiding their guilt than others. You could tell from the look in their eye that they knew why we were there.

"Hey, what the fuck is this?" one snapped.

"You going through our shit now?" asked another, trying to distract me from the guilt all over his face.

"Split them up," I said. I curled my fingers into fists and then stretched them out again. A warm-up. "We'll question them one at a time."

I ain't Rick. I ain't used to questioning anyone, and I haven't got his patience. I don't know what it's like to settle things calmly, not on my own. When Merle and I would fight, we would fight. Fists and blood until one of us gave out. It was what I knew.

But I figured Rick knew all this when he put me in charge of this place. So no matter what he said about peacetime, tolerance, working together, and all that hippy shit, he'd have known I'd get my hands dirty if the situation called for it. He saw a use for the violence that made up part of my DNA, and if he'd wanted us to play nice, he'd have put himself in charge.

At least, that's what I told myself when I went in there.

But deep at the heart of it, deep down, I didn't care what Rick thought. Didn't care what he wanted or what he'd say about it when it was done. I only cared about the fear in Naomi's eyes when she'd seen that picture threatening Mia and me. The way she'd run out into the woods in a thunderstorm all because someone had whistled. The bruises on her body when Negan's most loyal men had beat the daylights out of her, and I hadn't been able to do shit to protect her. Although she'd never once admitted which of them had done it, I was willing to bet it was at least some of these assholes.

So, I didn't ask nice. Not even once. I just beat the answers right out of them, and part of me was sad when they gave them up because it meant I had to stop.

Only Justin didn't break. Didn't tell me shit. Wouldn't admit to anything even when the others had. Even when I told them what they'd admitted to. He acted surprised and denied it all.

I took a break and left the room we were holding Justin in. My arms hurt, my knuckles were numb, and the feeling spread. Anger can only burn so bright for so long, and the darkness it lets in when it fades is cold. Glenn, leaning against the wall in the hallway, keeping watch on the other closed doors, stood straight when he saw me. I wondered what he'd heard, what he thought of me after all this.

"What are we going to do with them?" he asked.

"Dunno yet," I said. Sank down with my back against the wall, head in my hands, looking to shut it all out for a moment.

"You good, Daryl?"

I shrugged. Glenn didn't say anything else; just let me sit with it. Stew in it. I liked that Glenn never pushed me unless I needed it; he always knew when I needed time.

"Can't think straight," I said, staring hard at my shoes, so I didn't have to look at Glenn. "Not when it comes to her."

"I feel you, man," Glenn said, sitting on the dusty floor next to me like he was settling in for the long haul. I looked at him because there was no way he got it. He was too gentle, too good. Glenn fought when he had to, but deep down, he wasn't violent. He wasn't born into rage. He didn't have anger stitched into his soul. Not like me.

"Yeah," I said so he wouldn't feel the need to keep saying things that weren't true to try and make me feel better.

"I mean it," he said. "If Maggie was being messed with by people who were trying to kill her not that long ago… I'd lose my shit."

Losing my shit felt a little tame for what I'd just done, but I appreciated him saying it all the same.

"I mean…" Glenn hesitated. "When Merle had us in that basement in Woodbury, I wasn't exactly…. understanding. Even after it was all over."

I laughed. I kinda had to. At the time, I'd been annoyed that Glenn had been so dead set against my brother joining us. But now? Now I thought he'd been polite. A damn saint. Now I knew what it was like to see the woman you loved hurt and not be able to hold the assholes who did it accountable…

I wanted to skin them alive and paint the exposed flesh with vinegar. And I'd have felt that way even if it had been Merle.

I wanted to go back in time and punch Merle again on Glenn's behalf.

"Sorry, man," I said. "I should've understood more. About Merle."

"That's not why I brought it up," he said gently. And I knew he wasn't lying because Glenn doesn't hold a grudge like that. "I get it, is all. It's hard to let go of that anger even when trying to build peace."

Aaron and Bryce came out of one of the other doors. I think the one Ronnie was in, although it was a bloody blur. Aaron was holding a med kit, and Bryce had a blood-soaked rag in one hand.

"You get what you needed?" Bryce asked. His voice was real neutral. Gave nothing away. Bryce and I were on okay terms these days, but I hadn't missed the disappointment in his eyes when he'd arrived with the guys from the Kingdom and seen me without Naomi. Couldn't blame him; I felt it too.

What does he think of me now he's seen what I'm capable of when I get mad?

Would I want a guy like me with Naomi if I were him?

"Most of it," I said, avoiding looking at him. "Only thing they won't cop to is leaving out food. But I reckon that was Justin, can't get that asshole to admit to anything."

"What do we do about them now?" Aaron asked.

"We were just trying to work that out," Glenn said. And the sentence hung there. Usually, Rick would've stepped in and told us the plan. But in this place, I was in charge. I was supposed to be the one with the answers. But I had nothing; I was empty of everything.

"What do you want to do, Daryl?" Bryce asked.

"I want to kick them all out of here and leave them to the Walkers," I said. "I want to cut tiny pieces off them and feed them back to 'em. I want to listen to every bone in their body break and dig a pit for them that they can't crawl out of. But Rick probably wouldn't want me doing any of that."

"Probably not, no," Glenn said quietly after a moment of silence from the others. I was too tired to work out what their silence meant, but I was sure they were all thinking the worst of me. Now they'd seen who I really was.

"Should probably update Rick, though," Aaron said, and I wondered if it was because it was a good idea or because he was too worried about what I'd do if I was left to my own devices.

"Yup," I said and got to my feet. I couldn't stand to be around anyone for a second longer, not even these guys. "I'll call him now."

I could've done it right in front of them, but I needed to get away. They were all staring at me, waiting for me to do something I couldn't do, and it felt like the walls were closing in. I snatched up Naomi's bag and took it with me, hoping she'd be happy to see it back in our room when this hell was over.

When I opened the door, it hit something. The copy of Negan's damn book was still lying where Naomi had left it. I let the door shut behind me and stared at it. I'd thought I was all out of rage, but something about that damn book made me fill back up again.

Negan got her a book.

Like they were gonna bond or some shit.

I hadn't realized how much it bothered me until I saw it staring at me from the dusty floor. I could picture Negan picking it out for her and trying to talk about it with her. And then laughing at me because I was too dumb to get this shit, too dumb for her, and everyone around us could see it. I kicked the book across the floor and then felt bad because I could imagine the horror on Naomi's face if she'd seen me do it.

It'd be much worse if she'd seen what else you'd done today.

A hot lick of shame finally caught up with me. I'd been staving it off, but thinking about Naomi seeing how violent I'd been tipped me over the edge.

What would she think of me if she'd seen me like that?

She'd think I was a psycho.

The way I'd been following her around Sanctuary and taking stock of anyone who looked at her funny, she might already think that. In my ideal world, nobody would be allowed within fifty meters of her without me clearing them first. If she had to travel anywhere, it'd be with a security detail like a President. Drive around in one of them bulletproof cars like the Pope.

Maybe I am a psycho.

I fished the newly-found walkie out of Naomi's bag and turned it on. "You there, asshole?"

No answer came.

"I found all your little rats, and if you come near this place again, I'm gonna find you too."

I waited a little longer. Nothing came back, but I felt like something was listening, just not for me. So I switched to another walkie and radioed Rick.

"Everything alright, Daryl?"

"Yeah," I said. "We found the people who've been messing with shit around Sanctuary."

"So, it wasn't Negan," Rick said. I didn't like the way he said it. It wasn't a question, and he sounded so satisfied. Like he'd been proved right about something... or proved Naomi wrong.

"No. It wasn't," I said. "But they said he's alive."

"They did?"

"Yeah," I said. "Almost everyone one of those sons of bitches said Negan lives. Same shit they scrawled on the walls."

"Ah," Rick said, calm again. Like something made sense, and I was overreacting.

"What?"

"Well, did they say where he is?" Rick asked. "Or did they just say Negan lives?"

"They didn't give him up," I said. "But what's the difference?"

"They all consider themselves 'Negan,' remember?" Rick said. "So, them saying Negan lives doesn't mean the man's alive. Just means what he stood for won't die as long as they're around."

"I don't think that's it," I said. "We found a walkie with the rest of their shit. Can't get an answer, but it ain't tuned to any of the frequencies we use."

"Doesn't mean they've been in contact with Negan," Rick said, way too casual for what I'd been telling him. "They could've just been using it to talk to each other, though. Coordinate things."

"I guess."

My head was starting to hurt.

"I'll try again in the morning," I said. "But it's those guys for sure."

"Alrighty, thanks for letting us know, Daryl," Rick said. "You wanna talk to Naomi before you go?"

"Why? Is she there? She ask for me?" Suddenly, the silence in the background became the most interesting thing about this call with Rick. My stomach tightened when I thought she might have heard that; how damn keen I was to hear her voice. She'd think I was such a loser. I'd never live it down.

"No, I think she's with Lucas and the girls," Rick said. Something in me sank. "I can get her for you, though."

"Nah, it's fine," I said because I could hear that damn smirk in Rick's voice again and because I wanted Naomi to enjoy her time away from this place. It consumed so many of her thoughts these days. She needed a break from that. A break from me hovering around her like a goddamn fly, too.

I signed off and heard Rick chuckle before he did too. When I went to set the walkie down, I caught sight of the blood on the back of my knuckles. Most of it probably wasn't mine, but there were some scrapes from teeth. I hadn't thought to clean myself up because Naomi usually did it for me while she talked me down from spiraling into... whatever funk this was.

Aaron and Bryce still had the med kit, there'd be something to clean wounds in there, but I didn't want to go back down there again and face everybody. Water would have to do. I opened the door to go and look for the nearest bathroom but found Bryce standing outside.

"Hey, Daryl," Bryce said. "Can I have a word?"

"Sure," I said. Felt like someone had wrapped a rubber band around my skull, and it was squeezing so tight it hurt my brain. Bryce hesitated like he was building to something, and I didn't have the time to let him. I already knew I was a piece of shit I was. "Look, before you… can I just tell you something?"

"Uh, yeah, go ahead," he said, a little apprehensive. His eyes flickered

"When they held us here," I said. "Naomi and me. They left my door unlocked one day. Deliberately. And when I got out, I went looking for her, like they knew I would. They were waiting for me, and they already had her."

I stopped for a second. I felt too sick to keep going. Bryce didn't say anything. Just looked at me with that same apprehension, like I was about to explode.

"So, they brought her out. Started beating her. I mean really beating her," I said. My mouth went dry, and my hands got sweaty at the memory of it. "Because of what I'd done, they kicked her so hard she threw up. Bruises on bruises. She passed out, and they still didn't stop."

"Jesus," Bryce muttered. His face looked pale.

"So, I know you probably think what I did to those guys makes me a monster, and what I want to do to them is even worse," I said. "And maybe you're right. But when I look at them, all I see is what they did to her."

"Daryl-"

"And it might not have been those exact guys," I said. "I keep trying to remember the faces of the ones that were there, but I can't because all I really remember is the way Naomi screamed and how it felt that I couldn't do anything to help her. So, it don't matter to me. They're all Negan. They're all guilty."

Bryce nodded, taking a moment to see if I was done talking.

"Actually, I wasn't going to say any of that," Bryce said.

"No?"

"No. I think you're in a deeply unenviable position here," he said. "It's clear that tensions are high. One wrong move in this place could cause a mutiny, and now you have to deal with a faction plotting against you? And that's without any of the horrors they put you guys through when the shoe was on the other foot… nah, for the record, I think you're doing a good job in a bad situation."

"Oh." Something in me lifted.

"I was going to ask if you wouldn't mind me staying on a bit when we're done here?" he said.

"You wanna stay here?" I couldn't believe anyone in their right mind would see the state of this place, know what we were up against here, and choose to stay.

"Yeah," he said, looking a little uncomfortable again. "It's not that I'm not happy to see you, it's just… when we got the call, it sounded like…."

"Naomi would be the one here?" I finished for him. He nodded, clearly worried that he'd offended me somehow. "She wanted to stay, but I'm the one who's supposed to be in charge of this place, so I thought it would be better for her to go with Mia."

"And she listened to you?"

"Eventually," I shrugged. Bryce looked mildly impressed.

"Those Payton girls are hard to shake, huh?" I said. "You miss 'em?"

"Yeah."

"If it's alright with the King, it's alright with me," I said. "I know the girls would love having you here."

"Thanks, Daryl," Bryce said and started to leave. He hesitated, and looked back at me. "I can get you something for that."

He gestured down at my hand, which still didn't hurt but probably would by tomorrow. "Thanks, man."

I let the door shut behind him and listened to his footsteps fade into the hallway. When I turned around, that damn book was still staring at me from its new corner of the floor. I didn't kick it this time; I picked it up and flipped it open. If an idiot like Negan could get through it, I could too.