Naomi

Every time the key turned in the lock, an involuntary shiver ran up my spine. That small sound was the only one I heard for long stretches of time, and I hated that it could have such a big effect on me. With nobody to talk to and nothing going on around me, the silence was all there was. Until the door unlocked. Time was only broken by it being opened or shut. Otherwise, it stood still. The light would change slowly, and I'd stare at the same four walls and think about how I was going to find Daryl, how I'd get us both out. I tried to steer clear of thinking about what might be happening to him. My mind went to all sorts of dark places, and I knew if I let it linger there, I'd lose it entirely.

I looked through the frosted glass in the door and tried to see how many people Negan had guarding me. If I could start building a schedule of when they changed shifts, I could look for a weak link somewhere. One of them who was more forgetful with the keys. Or a moment I was unguarded.

But it was hard to see anything through the glass. The only person I had any actual contact with was Simon. He'd open the door, throw in a chunk of stale bread, and leave again. Never said a word to me. No matter what I asked him, or said to him. Sometimes, it felt like he wanted to. Like he had to actively stop himself from beating on me. I could remember his smile at the clearing, the glee he'd taken in watching Abraham die. Felt like a guy like Simon could easily have been leading these people. What had Negan done to make him fall in line? Would he do the same to Rick?

No.

Rick was stronger than that. He wasn't a sadist either. I couldn't imagine him carrying out any of Negan's orders with the kind of pathological joy that Simon did. Rick and the others would be working on getting us back, and on bringing down Negan. I was sure of it, but it wasn't enough. Daryl and I had never relied on anyone before. I didn't want to start now.

As kids, we'd been powerless. I'd known what was happening to him, what his dad was doing, and I hadn't been able to do shit. But now I had a chance. I could save him, I could get him out. I just needed to fight a little harder.

Hold tight, Daryl. I'm coming for you.

It must've been days since I'd seen him. All I had was Negan's word that he was alive, and that was not good enough. I don't know what Negan's intention was in keeping me here, isolated and cut off from him, but the anger in me was only building the longer they let me stew in it. He would pay for this. They all would.

I unlaced one of my shoes. I arranged the bedsheets so that it looked, at first glance, like I was in them. And then I waited by the door for someone to come in.

I had done this at Terminus. I could do it again.

Of course, at Terminus, I'd had other people, I hadn't been alone. But I wasn't alone here either, Daryl was here. And he needed me. I couldn't just sit here and wait. I'd done that long enough, and it had got me fucking nowhere.

The door opened. This was it.

"For fuck's sake," Simon took his usual few steps into the room, his eyes on the lump in the bed that he thought was me. "Lazy piece of-"

I sprang forward. He was taller than me. I had to leap to wrap the shoelace around his neck. But I got it over his head with surprising ease. Tightened it, enjoyed the way his fingers automatically reached up to try and pull it off. I used both hands to pull it as tight as I could. Heard the satisfying sounds of him choking out. The flesh on his face started to turn red. I glanced down at the gun that was still in its holster. When he was weak enough, I'd be able to grab it. Then I could shoot my way out. Or use him as a hostage, negotiate for Daryl's release.

Pain erupted from the back of my head as something hard hit it. It was so strong that for a moment, I couldn't see anything. I felt my grip start to slide. Was that Lucille? Had Negan come in to find me choking out his right-hand man and decided to kill me after all?

Something hard hit me in the back. And then again on the side of the head. The ground rushed up to meet me before I even realized I'd let go. I landed awkwardly on one of my arms, felt a sharp pain shoot up it. I rolled over onto my back to try to get back on my feet as quickly as possible. Two of Simon's men were already leaning over me. The hard handles of their rifles hit me again and again.

"Stop," Simon said. His face was still red, but it was now flushed with anger instead of the lack of oxygen. He leaned down over me, pulled on the front of my shirt, so I was raised up a little off the ground. "This bitch is mine."

Tiny pieces of spit flew from his mouth and hit my face. He struck me with such force that my head smacked back against the floor. I felt something start to bleed. Two more hits to the face, and then he moved onto the rest of my body. His friends held me down as he beat my torso, stomped on my stomach, and then wrapped his hands around my throat. I tried to pull them away. He blurred in front of me as my eyes start to water. I clawed at his hands, and when that didn't work, I scratched his face. I'm sure it was hard enough to draw blood, but he did not let me go.

Someone took hold of my hands and pinned them down on the floor. I struggled to get any air into my lungs at all. They burned like I was breathing in fire. Simon's red, gleeful face swam in front of mine. Dark shadows began to creep into the corners of my vision. My oxygen-starved brain conjured Daryl out of those shadows. His voice. The smell of him. His kiss.

This was it.

This was how I died, and I hadn't even managed to save him.

I'm sorry, Daryl. I'm so, so, sorry.

Then, it stopped. Simon got off me. I rolled onto my side, gasping for air. The floor was slick with my blood. I coughed and spluttered, feeling like my neck would never be the same, and I'd never breathe right again. My fingers hurt when they brushed against the skin on my neck.

They took my shoes and left me lying there. I couldn't move. Couldn't get up. I watched the shadows get longer on the floor in front of me as time moved on, and I stayed still. I thought of Daryl, a painful tug deep in my chest. Like something in me was trying to reach out for him and couldn't.

All I'd ever wanted was for him to be safe. Happy. Now I didn't even know where the hell he was. I couldn't hold my tears back anymore, I missed him so damn much that it turned the physical pain into almost nothing.

Hours passed, and then the door opened again. I wondered if Simon had come back for Round Two and knew I didn't have the strength to take him on again. Especially if he'd brought back up.

But it was Negan's voice that rang out. Sharp and angry, "Oh, what the hell? Is she dead?"

"You wish," I told him. My voice didn't sound right. It hurt to talk.

"Oh, thank God." Surprisingly genuine sounding relief. I didn't move from where I was. I ached too much. I heard a creak as he sat down on the bed behind me. "I am truly sorry about this, Naomi. This should not have happened. I will deal with Simon, alright?"

"Yeah, right," I heaved a sigh that hurt my ribs. "Like you didn't order him to do it."

"I didn't. This is the opposite of what I ordered him to do." It was hard to know whether to believe him or not. I turned my head. My neck hurt. He looked down at me and laughed again, "Boy… you must've really pissed him off."

"Good."

"I'm curious," he said. "If you had gotten out of here. Where would you have gone? Do you know the way out?"

"No," I admitted. "But I wasn't looking for the door."

"Ah," he said. "Looking for Daryl?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? What if I told you Daryl got out?" he said. I shifted where I was, forced my aching body to turn so I could see him. "Today. Someone left the door to his cage open, and he bolted. He's back home in Alexandria fetching sticks for Rick."

"Then I'd know you were an idiot and a liar," I told him. He gave me that grin again. Like I'd taken his bait exactly the way he wanted me to. "Daryl wouldn't leave without me. Not unless he knew for sure I was dead. And I mean for sure, he'd have to see my body to believe it, he wouldn't just take your word for it. I ain't dead, he ain't here, so he didn't get out. Not yet."

I was getting tired of explaining this kind of shit to him. He'd said Dwight had told him all about Daryl. And now he had us under lock and key, you'd have thought he'd have had a better idea of the kind of person Daryl was, have got the hint that he would never break. But Negan still didn't have a clue.

"The faith you two have in each other…" he said, shaking his head in mild disbelief. "Where do I get me some of that? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's dumb. It is really stopping both of you from getting the most out of this place. But it's sweet as hell."

"Try being less of an unrelenting asshole," I offered. "Maybe then someone would give a shit about you."

He laughed. "C'mon, let's get you to a doctor."

"You got one of those?" I asked.

"We sure do," he said. "We got a lot of shit here you might enjoy, y' know. If you let yourself."

"Let myself?" I repeated. "Door's been locked, or ain't you noticed?"

"Touchè," he said. "Alright, you wanna make a wager? If Daryl gets out and comes looking for you, you win, and I'll let you out of this box for a little while. If he doesn't, I win."

He didn't say what would happen if he won, and I didn't ask because I didn't want to know.

"When Daryl gets out, you ain't gonna have time for any dumb bets," I said. "You'll be a dead man."

"Sweet of you to worry about that," he said, while I rolled my eyes. "But you can let me handle Daryl. Now, get up. I want a doctor to check you over, okay?"

He helped me to my feet. I tried to do it myself, I didn't trust it not to turn into another beating, and I couldn't bring myself to take his hand. But it didn't. He just led me down the corridor and two flights of stairs to a room on the ground floor. I did what I'd done on the way up, spent every moment outside of that stupid room looking for places that Daryl might be.

Doctor Carson checked me over, fixed up what he could, but most of it was just bruises waiting to happen. Negan stayed the whole time. I didn't expect him to, and it seemed to make the doctor more nervous having him around. I almost asked him to piss off so the doctor could do his job, but I was tired and talking hurt too much. Doctor Carson gave me the all-clear, and then it was time to go back. No closer to finding Daryl.

A woman was waiting to get in there after me. It took me a moment to recognize her all cleaned up. Last time I'd seen her, she was covered in dirt, pointing a gun at me and riding away on the back of Daryl's bike.

"Hey," I said, so shocked to see her that I also blurted out, "thought you were dead."

She stared at my face, clearly struggling to place me in all of this. Negan stopped, turned on his heels, and walked back.

"Quite an accusation to be throwing around while you're out here looking like shit," he said. It was a fair point. I could feel parts of my face starting to swell, no wonder Sherry hadn't recognized me. "How do you know my wife?"

"Your wife?"

That didn't make any kind of sense. Dwight wasn't only still alive, he was here. What the hell was she doing now married to Negan?

"We don't know each other," Sherry was quick to say. I wondered if I should be offended by how quickly she told him that she wasn't associated with me. But, given my current standing in this place, maybe she was wise to distance herself. "We met once. In passing."

"In passing?" Negan said.

"I pointed a gun at her," I said. "Yelled a little."

"Yeah," Negan chuckled. "That checks out. Alright, c'mon."

As I passed her, Sherry gave me a small smile, and a look I couldn't quite work out. Negan opened the door to the staircase and led me back up to my room. It was almost a weird kind of relief to be back in there. The corridors were long and cold, and I knew being back here would mean that Negan would leave me alone soon.

"I'm gonna make sure Simon is taken off this job," Negan told me. "I can't have this happening again."

I didn't thank him. But the impulse to do so rose up in my throat and realizing that made me queasy. He'd sure made it sound like he was doing me a favor. He wasn't. He was still leading me to a damn cell where he'd keep me locked up, the same way he had for the last however long it had been. Just because it wasn't his hands that had choked me out, didn't mean it wasn't his fault.

I walked back into the room, where my blood was drying on the floor. I turned to Negan. "Can I get my shoes back?"

He laughed, "Not a chance, darlin'."

The door closed. Locked. I waited for the silence but it did not come. Not immediately.

"I told you," I could hear Negan's raised voice out in the corridor. He sounded genuinely and surprisingly angry. "Not to beat her like that."

"But she was-" Simon started to argue.

"I don't care what she was doing," Negan said. "I told you, no visible bruises. No damage that he can see. She ain't strong enough for what we need her for now. We're gonna have to delay the whole damn thing."

I turned and looked at myself in the mirror that was hanging on the wall. Parts of my face were, indeed, starting to swell. They might be gone by morning, but there were already marks on my neck. Deep, red lines where Simon's hands had wrapped around them and squeezed.

"She'll be fine," Simon said. "She's playing it up."

"Fucking asshole," I muttered to myself, still staring at the marks he'd left on me. Although Simon couldn't hear me, it was a little cathartic to cuss him out behind his back.

It made sense now, Negan's concern; it hadn't been for me. Not really. It had been because my injuries had thrown a spanner in the works of whatever he had planned. He didn't want Daryl to see any bruises on me. It was weirdly satisfying, to know that I'd been right not to get sucked in by his fake sympathy. And it gave me some amount of hope, that whatever he was going to throw at us next, we might at least get to face it together. I'd get to see that he was alright.

I sank down onto the bed, and for the first time since I'd got here, sleep came easy. I don't remember it happening, it just washed right over me.

When I opened my eyes again, it was dark, and my whole body ached. I'd been woken by the familiar sound of the key in the lock. Although I didn't want to give him the satisfaction, I couldn't suppress my shudder at the thought of seeing Simon again. But when the door opened, it wasn't him. It was Sherry. I sat up when I saw her.

"Where's Simon?" I asked.

"There's been… a change," Sherry said. "Negan's orders. I'm looking after you now."

'Looking after...' such an odd way to talk about what was happening here.

"Oh," I said. I was, genuinely, a little surprised. I'd assumed that Negan's talk about making Simon pay for what he'd done was bull, but, clearly, he'd be serious about not letting him in here with me again.

"Brought you some food," Sherry said. I noticed she'd put it on a plate, unlike Simon, who just threw it down. She was also talking to me, looking at me, didn't seem in a hurry to leave—the polar opposite of Simon. I wondered how genuine it was. Or if this was part of whatever Negan was planning too. Maybe she was in on it. To get me back for waving a gun in her face.

"Thanks," I said, but I didn't move to take it from her. She set it down on the floor but still didn't leave.

"And some water," she set down a glass of water beside it. "They never gave me enough when I was in here."

My parched and aching throat throbbed at the mere thought of drinking.

"You were in here?" I asked. Sherry glanced quickly at the door behind her and then back at me.

"I saw Daryl today," she said. It wasn't an answer to the question I'd asked, but I didn't care. I sat bolt upright.

"Where?" I said. "How is he? Did you talk to him? Is he okay?"

"He's… alive," Sherry said. "He was brought in to see the doctor just after me. It didn't look like he had any new injuries. Think they were just checking him over."

Relief brought tears to my eyes. The tightness in my chest relaxed a little. It made me think that Negan whatever Negan wanted him for, he wanted Daryl alive and fairly healthy. And Negan would make sure he stayed that way. At least for now.

He's alive. We got a shot.

She quietly watched my reaction, a look in her eyes like she genuinely felt sorry for me. It was pity. But it wasn't as patronizing as I usually found it. There was an understanding in there too, like she recognized where I was.

"Do you know where they're keeping him?" I asked. It was a long shot. But one I had to take.

"No," she said. "Not exactly. There are a few places he might be, but…"

She shrugged, and my heart sank a little. Still, I tried to focus on the fact that he was alive. That a doctor had at least looked at some of his injuries. Sherry turned to leave.

"You know Dwight's here, too, right?" I asked. It felt like a dumb question, but I couldn't see how you could go from being out there with someone, risking everything with them, to leaving them for a guy like Negan. Unless he was keeping them apart. Like Daryl and me. And she just didn't know.

Sherry gave me a sad smile, "Yeah, I do."

"Then, why is he… why are you…?" I didn't know how to word it, and I could feel this massive knot of dread forming in my stomach. It was something about the way she was looking at me. Like my shock and surprise were naive.

"I did the only thing I could do to save him," she said quietly. "If you're smart, you'll do the same for Daryl."

She didn't tell me what, exactly, it was that she'd done. But to me, it didn't look much like either of them was safe or free.

Daryl

Mia's alive. Mia's alive, and Naomi doesn't know.

I ran it over and over in my head until it became the only thing I could think. A life raft in the sea of shit we were all in. Both of them were here somewhere, and neither of them knew.

Naomi. Mia. Me.

All under the same roof.

So close to everything I wanted. We hadn't been in the same place for so long. I needed to see them. Needed to know they were alright and had each other.

Focusing on that need was what got me through all of it. Even when they stripped me, beat me, fed me nothing but dog food, I got through it. People treat you like an animal long enough, it's easy to forget the human parts of you, but I had them - my girls - to get me through. I could make the two of them a family again, and as long as I got to do that, I was at peace with dying in here.

It was easy to think that this would be where I died; there were times I felt close to it. They gave me new clothes, but they never let me sleep. Every time I started to drift off, they'd blast the same damn song through the room. Over and over. For hours. Until I felt like the tune was seared into my damn brain. Covering my ears didn't do much to block it out. Just muffled it a little.

Mia's alive. Mia's alive, and Naomi doesn't know.

I repeated that over and over. Tried to use it as a way of drowning out the damn song.

Then it would stop, and there'd be moments of silence where all I had were my own thoughts. That didn't make getting to sleep any easier, I kept expecting that song, and I'd be too on edge to properly fall asleep. So, I'd close my eyes and focus on Naomi and Mia. What it would be like when I got them both out of here.

I'd bring them both back to Alexandria. Rick would greet us at the gates. We'd go to one of the houses, any house would do, it would be us that would make it a home. Safe. Warm. Naomi and I could take Mia outside the walls and teach her to hunt and fish. We'd cook up what she caught. Aaron and Eric would come for dinner. Rick and Michonne too. Carol would bring cookies for dessert. We'd look after Glenn and Maggie's little one when they needed a break. Playdates with little Asskicker at our place. Mia and Carl would play out on the street like kids should. Like we had when we were little, but without being afraid to come home again. And at the end of the day, Naomi and I would curl up with each other. She'd have her damn books, and I'd fall asleep to the sound of her breathing in my arms.

But those thoughts were hard, too. If I drifted off in the middle of them, they turned bad. Mia would go missing again. Naomi would turn to me, but Negan would be right behind her. That bat would crack on her skull, and I'd wake up screaming.

During one of those long stretches of silence, I heard something outside the door. Braced myself for Dwight again. It seemed too soon for another dogfood sandwich, but time moved weird here. Long stretches of nothing broken only by Dwight's ugly face. And that damn song.

The door didn't open. I looked at the light coming under it and could tell from the shadow that there was someone outside. A scuff as they slid down the length of the door to sit on the ground.

"Daryl?" It was a whisper, small and scared, but I recognized it instantly. I scrambled closer. "Daryl, you in there?"

"Mia?"

It was hard to believe it was really her. I could've been imagining it. Lack of sleep, food, and any company but my own thoughts could've made me hallucinate that she was here.

"Hey," she said. There was so much worry in her voice. "I came as soon as I could. As soon as it was safe. Are you okay? Dwight… he was… those men..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I told her. I wished she hadn't had to see me like that. "That was nothing, don't you worry about me. You gotta be careful down here. What if they catch you?"

"I got a few minutes," she said. "Dwight takes a cigarette break in the stairwell with Sherry sometimes. I'll get away before he sees me."

There was so much I wanted to say to her. Things I needed to learn about the girl she'd grown into, and I wanted to say how sorry I was that I'd missed out on so much of her life. But there was no time for any of that. The clock was ticking. Smokes only last so long.

"Naomi's here," I said. I hated that I had to tell her through a damn door. That I couldn't see her face or take her hand. I heard her sharp intake of breath.

"She's alive?" she said, her voice broke. I could feel the disbelief through the door. I reached out and put my hand on it, wishing I could see her. Just hug her while she processed all this.

"Yeah, she's alive," I said. I could feel myself getting choked up. A few of Mia's sobs floated under the door, and each of them hit me like a tiny punch in the heart. "She's somewhere in this place, and I'm gonna get her out. Get you both out. You hear me? She's gonna be fine. Both of you are gonna be fine."

"You found her?" Mia sniffed.

"Yeah. Well, actually, she found me," I said. "While she was out looking for you."

I heard her take a deep, shaky breath.

"I'm glad she found you," Mia said, her voice cracking again. "I'm glad she wasn't alone."

"We got a place," I said. "A whole community. You'll like it there. There's other kids. Perla's with us."

"Perla!" she gasped. "Thank God. I tried to…"

She stopped. Paused like she was listening. I listened too.

Far away, down a corridor, something moved.

"I think I gotta go," she said.

"Don't let them see you," I said. I would never forgive myself if Mia got hurt because of this. I heard her feet move against the floor, but she didn't run just yet.

"Hey, Daryl?" she whispered.

"Mia, go," I hissed. "Before they catch you."

The pause was so long I couldn't stand it. And then Mia said, "We missed you, Naomi and me, we missed you."

I felt a lump forming in my throat.

"I missed you guys too," I said before it could get too big for me to speak. Then I heard her feet echo on the floor as she ran. It faded to silence. I kept listening. Trying to make sure she got away safe. A door opened and closed. Feet on the floor. Bigger and heavier. Probably Dwight. Nobody called out or yelled.

Silence.

My whole body relaxed for the first time in a while.

Me. Naomi. Mia.

The silence didn't last so long this time. The door unlocked. Dwight again. I wondered if it would be another dog food sandwich. Or more clothes that weren't mine. Maybe he'd come to take the ones he'd just give me off me again. But he didn't. He forced me up onto my feet, pulled me out of the room by the collar of their dumb sweatshirt. I looked for signs of Mia as he dragged me away. I didn't see any. Didn't seem like he did either.

When I felt like she might've got away, I started looking for signs of Naomi. Peeking in every door that I could. Listening for any sound of her. Was Dwight taking me to her? Did Negan have something planned for the two of us?

He pushed me through a door. A doctor's office. Not at all what I expected.

"Carson...," Dwight started to say, then he stopped when he saw the woman already sitting on the exam chair. It was his girl, Sherry. I'd thought she might be dead, for Dwight to become this big of an asshole, but it looked like they'd both managed to make a nice life for themselves. Crawling back to serve Negan. Double-crossing me.

"We were just finishing up," the doctor said as Sherry hopped down.

"Hi, D," she said to Dwight. It was weird... like she hadn't seen him in a while. Maybe Negan had a thing about keeping couples apart.

"Hey," he said. Then he looked away from her. She glanced at the ground for a second, and then up at me. I saw the moment of confusion cross her face as she tried to place mine. Then I saw the realization hit her.

"Daryl, right?" she said. It looked like something was falling into place for her. And it wasn't anything good.

"Don't talk to him," Dwight said. He pushed toward the chair. Lying out on the table next to it was a pregnancy test. Dwight caught it too. He got this real weird look on his face like it was the worst thing he could've seen. Was that what there was such an odd atmosphere between them? One of them wanted a kid, and the other didn't?

"It's negative," Sherry said quietly. It wasn't something she looked too sad about.

"Well, maybe next time," Dwight shrugged. But it wasn't like he sounded hopeful either.

"Sorry, still getting used to being my own assistant," the doctor said, hurriedly clearing it away. Sherry was looking at Dwight, but he'd turned away from her.

"Whatever they say," she said to me. "Just do it."

"I said don't talk to him," Dwight snapped at her. Not the kind of way you should talk to your girl. They glared at each other for a moment, and then the doctor stepped between them. I heard the door shut behind her as she left. Dwight had his back to me.

"Okay, let's take a look," the doctor pulled down the back of my shirt and looked at the exit wound Dwight had made when he shot at me. Old scars got their familiar itch. I tried to pretend it was Naomi standing behind me with her gentle hands and soft words. I'd never missed anyone so much. "It'll get better if you let it. Negan will take care of you. Trust me."

Yeah, right.

He let go of me. Dwight grabbed me up again, dragged me back along a corridor. Again, I looked for signs of Naomi and Mia. Any clues to where they might be keeping other people. It was so dark and dingy in these corridors. Everything was quiet; every door was shut.

Negan came round the corner. Dwight shoved me hard, so I was crouching down. He kneeled behind me like Negan was some kind of King.

"Dwighty boy," he grinned at him, and at the sight of me being forced to kneel to him. "I need to talk to my associate for a minute. Go about your business, except for you. You stand right there."

One of the large, burly men stood guard over a chair. Dwight pulled on the back of my shirt collar again, forced me over to the chair. I sat down. The other guy pulled a gun and trained it on me in case I got any ideas about getting up. It was killing me, to think that Naomi might be close and I'd miss it. Dwight left to talk to Negan.

I looked at the room in front of me. I could see the edge of a bed, and a kitchen unit decked out with all kinds of crockery. Even a damn microwave. A fridge. No idea if you could use them or not, but they were wasting a lot of power blasting that damn song into my room all night, so I assumed they both worked. There was a beat-up but still comfy-looking armchair and, behind that, some bookshelves. Proper books on them too, and I felt this deep pang in my chest.

Wherever they were keeping Naomi, I hoped it was nice, like this place.

Dwight came back from whatever he was talking to Negan about, pulled me out of my chair. I thought we'd go back to the shithole he'd pulled me out of, but we didn't. We went outside. Compared to the dark I'd just spent days in, the light hurt.

He let go of me by the compound's chain-link fence. On the other side of it, guys dressed like me struggled against Walkers. Trying to catch them with their bare hands. Unarmed. Unprotected. Pushing them onto spikes as part of the compound's defense.

Dwight raised my crossbow, shot one of the Walkers before it could kill one of the guys out there.

"You know, I'm getting the hang of this thing," he said, lifting my crossbow almost to my damn nose to make sure I could see it. I couldn't wait for the day I got it back off him. I'd fire every bolt I had into his body, pull them all out slow and do it again until he bled out. He grabbed me by the back of the neck, pushed my face right up the fence, so some of the metal dug into me. "That's you, asshole. Unless you're smart. Your choice. You could be like them… or me. Or them."

I ain't gonna be a coward like you.

I said nothing.

As Dwight dragged me back to my cell, I tried to memorize the route out of here. And the places I'd been taken today. If I could start to build up an internal map of this place, I could find my girls, and I could get us out.

"Make it easy on yourself," Dwight said, throwing me back in. Almost sounded like he was actually worried about the choices I was making.

"I ain't ever gonna kneel," I told him.

"Yeah, I said that, too," Dwight said.

"Yeah, I know."

I was there when you said it, asshole.

"See…" he sighed, "that's the thing, man. You don't. But you're gonna."

The door closed. Locked.

That song again. I couldn't stand it for another second. I got to my feet and started kicking the door. Pounding on it. It didn't budge. Without shoes on, my kicks didn't do shit. But if I kept going, I thought I could weaken it. Days, weeks, however long I was trapped here, surely at some point, it would break. One of us had to. And it wasn't going to be me. I had people to find. To protect.

I kicked it for hours. Kicked until I couldn't anymore. And then I sat back, ran over the exit route in my mind. Over and over and over again.

When the door finally opened again, it wasn't Dwight. Just some other guy with my food. He said nothing. I took it from him. He watched me take a bite and then left.

The door closed. I did not hear it lock.

The song started up again. But no key turned in the lock. Had he forgot? Was it a trap? Where was Dwight?

I peeked at the gap under the door. No shadow. No feet on the tiny sliver of the floor that I could see. I tried the handle. It moved. The door opened, just a crack, but nobody yelled. Nobody slammed it shut again, nobody was out there. I pushed it open. My heart started racing. This was it, this was my shot.

I opened it just enough for me to get out and then shut it real quiet behind me.

I tried to look in each room I passed. I didn't think they were keeping Naomi close to me, but I couldn't run the risk of missing her based on a dumb assumption.

"Naomi," I called. Loud as I thought I could get away with. The corridor looked empty, but I didn't know if there was anyone else behind the other doors. Didn't know where in this place Negan spent most of his time. "Hey, Naomi! Mia? You in there?"

Nothing but silence.

I knew I had to move on, had to move fast. But locked doors were the hardest ones to move away from. What if they were sleeping and didn't hear me? What if I missed them?

I heard footsteps in the corridor behind me and had to keep moving. Maybe I could circle back. Maybe I could check another time. People walked down a nearby hallway. Talking. Laughing. From the shadows, I peered around at them. Trying to see if Naomi was with them. Or Mia.

Someone grabbed the back of my sweater. I turned, fist raised, and ready to strike. But it was Sherry. I thought for a moment, then I lowered it.

"Go back while you can," she warned me in a whisper. "You know I did. Whatever he's done to you, there's more. There's always more. You won't get away. And when you're back, it'll be worse."

She was wrong. She had to be. I was getting out of here, and so were Naomi and Mia. Today. Now. I started to walk away.

"If not for you, do it for her," Sherry hissed at my back. I stopped. "For Naomi. Go back."

I turned.

"You seen her?" I asked. My fist clenched, and I had to fight with myself not to raise it again. "You know where she is?"

"If you want to keep her safe," she said. "Turn back. Do what he says. Whatever he says."

No chance.

I didn't have time for this shit. Sherry was probably just trying to keep Dwight out of trouble. I'm sure when Negan found out we were all gone, he'd be in a world of pain.

Good.

I walked away from Sherry, moved up another floor. Checked the rooms that I could. Called Naomi's name as loud as I dared outside the ones I couldn't.

I turned a corner. A long, empty corridor stretched out in front of me. I took a step, and someone started to clap. Slow. Punctuating the air like calculated gunshots. A group of people emerged from the doors around me. Right in front of me, down the other end of the long corridor, was Negan. I stopped. Didn't matter much because he was already walking toward me. His men were closing in.

I got ready for a fight. Waiting to see where the first punch would come from. Negan stopped in front of me. His guys stopped too.

"Who are you?" Negan pointed his back at the guy who was supposed to have locked my door. Or, not, as it was kind of looking like.

"Negan," he said.

"Who are… you?" Negan asked again, this time pointing at the guy directly behind him.

"Negan," he said.

"Who are ya?" he asked the group.

"Negan," was the response - a chorus of assholes echoing in this corridor.

"You see that?" he chucked. "I am everywhere. And this was your shot to prove that that fundamental fact was sinking in, and you failed. Which sucks, because your life was about to get so much cooler. Am I right?"

"Damn right," one of his men replied.

Negan stepped forward, almost hitting my bare feet with his bat. He laughed when I tried to get out of the way.

"I don't think you get it yet," he said. "So, I'm gonna break it down for you. You get three choices. One, you wind up on the spike, and you work for me as a dead man. Two, you get out of your cell, you work for points, but you're gonna wish you were dead. Or three, you work for me. You get yourself a brand-new pair of shoes, and you live like a king! Choice seems pretty obvious. You should know, there is no door number four. This is it. This is the only way. Screw it."

He swung that bat at me.

Stopped about an inch from my head.

"Wow," his face was uncomfortably close to mine. I wanted to punch it. To end it with him now, but he had that damn bat, and I didn't have shit. "You don't scare easy. I love that. But I got a question. What you doing up here? So far from that hole that I stuck you in… The door out is on the other side of the building. Whole other floor. And I know you know that."

He was walking away from me, back up to the other end of the corridor. He stopped outside a door.

"You looking for something?" he asked. "Or someone?"

No.

The blood in my veins turned to ice when he raised an arm, motioned to someone on his left. I heard a struggle from a room I couldn't see.

Was it her?

My whole body came alive with the promise of seeing her. Finally. Nausea and nerves. I longed for her. But I wanted her safe more than I needed to see her.

She stumbled out into the hallway, pushed by someone behind her. Dazed, confused. Wide eyes and bare feet like mine. She saw Negan first, and then her head turned toward me. Our eyes met. For a second, everything was okay. We weren't apart anymore. I could see that she was still alive. Still moving and breathing, for a moment, that was enough.

She took a tentative step toward me. Clearly expecting someone to stop her, or for Negan to yell at her to stay back. But they didn't. Negan watched her take two more steps and then break into a run. His men moved to stop her, but he shook his head at them. Looked me dead in the eye. He wanted me to know that he was letting this happen. Permitting it. That anything good that happened to us from now on was because he allowed it. I knew it was probably a bad sign. That he was letting us have this moment so that whatever was coming next would hurt all the more. But her hands reached for me, and I didn't much care what was coming after. She was in my arms again, and I felt like myself for the first time in days.

Naomi, forever my light in the dark.

We'll get out of this. We still got each other.

I held her gently, in case she was as sore as I was. I breathed in the smell of her and tried to memorize the way she felt against me. If this was the last time I got to hold her, I wanted to remember it. My face buried in her hair, my lips by her ear, I whispered, "They've got Mia."

I felt her shock. Held her tighter, hid her face in my shoulder so that nobody would see her react.

Don't fall apart.

I got you.

Don't fall apart.

Footsteps on the ground towards us. Her hands gripped at the shirt on my back as they tried to tear us apart.

"What?" disbelief made her whisper tremble. Hands that weren't hers grabbed my shoulders and pulled. They got her too. I saw them grab her, knew it probably hurt, but did not look away from her face. Her eyes, wide and fixed on mine, searched my face for the truth. I nodded once to let her know she'd heard me right, she hadn't misunderstood. I watched the panic sink in and wished I could say something to make it easier, so she could be happy that we'd found Mia in all this. I wanted to tell her that Mia had looked okay. Healthy. Well-fed. Unharmed. But couldn't communicate any of that to Naomi without someone knowing. So she was left to worry about it, to imagine that Mia was being treated like us. Beaten and starved. I saw the fear of it all eating away at her.

"Looks like you were right, darlin'," he said to her. "He did come for you instead of trying to get himself out. Dumb move."

Naomi looked at the ground, but I could see the edges of something burning in her eyes. She was angry, and she was doing her best not to show it. I wondered if she was mad at me for trying to find her instead of getting myself out. But she should've known I wouldn't leave here without her. Now she knew that Mia was here, too, she should know that the only way out of this was as a group. A family.

Negan put a finger under her chin, forced her to tilt her head upwards to look at him. Her hair fell away from the side of her face. I caught sight of deep purple bruises around her neck. Anger made my own throat feel like it was closing up. Negan saw me notice it and laughed.

"Now, I told you," Negan said. "In no uncertain terms that if you stepped out of line, it wasn't just going to be you that paid the price. And here you are. Stepping out."

No.

No. No. No.

The hands on me tightened their grip as I struggled to get back to Naomi. A sharp whistle from Negan rang out across the hall. The first blow landed on the side of Naomi's face.

"Stop it," I yelled. "Stop!"

"It's okay," she yelled back to me. Something about it made Negan start laughing again. "Daryl, don't-"

She never got to finish. Someone kicked her in the back, and she went sprawling across the ground. Now her arms were free, I watched her try to fight back. But there were so many of them. And I could tell she was already weak. When they hit her, she yelled out like there were already bruises on parts of her that I couldn't see.

My eyes stung. My chest got tight.

"It was me," I yelled at Negan. "I'm the one who got out. Punish me. Not her. Stop it! Just STOP!"

"You're right," Negan said. "It was you. This is your fault. Don't forget it."

Someone punched her in the gut, and she puked. Another smack around her head and I saw her eyes roll backward before she shut them. They didn't open again. She hit the floor. At the next kick in her gut, there was no hint that she was still feeling any of it.

"You're killing her!" I screamed at Negan. At all of them. "Stop! Stop it! You gotta stop this."

Wake up, Naomi.

Please.

You gotta wake up.

"Alright, stop," Negan yelled over me. His men stopped at once. He waved his hands, made them move aside to where she was lying on the floor in a puddle of her own blood and vomit. Her eyes stayed closed. Negan bent over her, reached down, and grabbed the material at the front of her shirt. He looked almost annoyed that she'd passed out.

"Hands off her!" I yelled at him. He turned his head to look at me and then pulled on her shirt, lifting her off the ground a little. She was so limp. Her head lolled back, her arms dragged against the floor.

"I'm checking she's alive, asshole." Negan said to me, lowering her back down again. "Or don't you care?"

I ran at him. It was such a shock to the guys holding me that I slipped free. It wasn't for long. Someone's foot shot out of nowhere, tripped me up on the way. Sent me sprawling across the ground. My chin smacked against it.

I looked up at where she lay. Her face was turned toward me. Pale. Tired. Couldn't tell if she was still breathing. I reached for her hand as the first boot slammed into my back. My fingers grabbed hers and then slipped right out again. She was too far away. I crawled forward. More boots on my back. My ribs crushed into the floor.

I got close enough to take her hand, move my fingers down to her wrist, and feel for her pulse. Beating beneath her skin. Strong, like she was.

Thank God.

Not dead.

They grabbed my legs, dragged me back. I saw them move her. Saw them carry off her limp, unresponsive. Better be taking her to that doctor. Better be making sure she was alright. Now that I knew they hadn't killed her, it was time to make them pay for hurting her. I twisted around where I was, kicked out at one of them, and punched at another. I fought until I couldn't fight anymore. I prayed to black out like she did, so they might take us to the same place. But that never came, and they threw me back in that damn cell.