Naomi

Fuck.

I'm fucked.

Absolutely fucked.

There was no getting out of this. For the first time, I was alone, truly alone, in Sanctuary. Time moved slow, but I'd never been more aware of it passing. It sank around me, drowning me in the suffocating silence between ticks of the clock. A slow, unstoppable march away from the people I loved, and towards the unknown. The unknown was what made it all so suffocating.

What if Simon had doubled-back and found Sherry?

What if she couldn't get the key to Daryl?

What if she did, and he and Mia were still caught?

I couldn't sit still. Couldn't stop pacing up and down the floor of my cell, a knot forming in my stomach that was so tight and heavy it made me queasy. The tightness spread to my chest, restricting every breath I took. This was how I imagined inmates on death row felt. An agonizing wait for the end. Moments elongated by dread. Knowing that something terrible was coming made me want things to move faster, just to get it over with, even if it meant an end to everything. Or at least an end to me. I wasn't dumb enough to think Negan would let me live after this.

Heavy footsteps reverberated in the corridor, Negan's high-pitched whistle echoed toward me. The same dread that had lengthened the seconds now made me wish for more time, or that I could turn it back and find another way out. Find time to fight and make sure everyone was safe. But the time for that had passed.

The window in the door rattled as Negan tapped on it with Lucille. I didn't respond, sinking down onto the bed, my eyes fixed on his fuzzy form behind frosted glass.

Time to face the music. Time to face Lucille.

"Naomi, Naomi, Naomi," Negan sighed. He sounded disappointed as if I'd genuinely hurt him. "Just when I thought we were getting along… did you pull this shit?"

My heart doubled in size and lodged itself somewhere behind my tonsils, beating like a military drum. It made it hard to speak. Hard to breathe. Negan rested Lucille against the glass like she was waiting for me.

"What shit?" I called back, trying to sound calm. The key turned, the metallic click of the bolt tightened something in my stomach. The door swung forward, and Negan stepped in. For once, there was no smile on his face.

"Don't play dumb with me, Naomi," he said. "I am not in the mood. Not today."

I swallowed. Playing dumb felt like my only option when I didn't know what Negan knew. Or what had happened. It was the single small sliver of survival I had, my only chance to find a new way out of here and get back to the people I love.

"Whatever shit you're trying to pin on me," I said. "I've been locked in here for hours, just ask Simon-"

"Oh, Simon and I have had a chat," Negan said. "He told me he caught you lurking around the ground floor. Do you wanna tell me what you were doing there when I specifically told you that you weren't allowed out without a chaperone?"

"I was looking for Sherry," I answered quickly and hoped it wasn't too quick. My thoughts were racing so fast I'd forgotten what normal conversation sounded like.

"Sherry, huh?" he said. "Did sweet Sherry let you out of her sight? Did you run off on her?"

"No."

"No? Alright then, did you fight her like you fought Simon? Are we gonna find her beaten up in a closet somewhere?"

"No…" I said, trying not to give anything away, but the dread was fading, eaten away by growing hope. If they didn't know where Sherry was, she must've gotten out. Negan hadn't mentioned Daryl or Mia, but he might not know they were gone yet. He was looking at me, still expecting some kind of answer. "I ain't seen Sherry since you burned that poor bastard's face. The crowd was big, and we got separated as we were leaving. I waited around for a bit, but she never came."

"That's what you were doing when Simon found you?" Negan was testing me, leaning on parts of my story to find the weaknesses. Find where he could crack it open and dig out the truth. "Waiting around?"

"Yes."

For a second, it seemed like he was on his way to believing me. He swung Lucille out in front him, bounced the smooth wood of her handle against the palm of his free hand like he was deep in thought.

"So it's just a coincidence that Simon found you in the same corridor as Dwight's room, huh?"

Shit.

I prayed the cold flame of fear that had shot through me had not shown anywhere on my face. "How the hell would I know where Dwight's room is?"

Negan walked closer, his dark eyes fixed on me.

"See, at first I thought you were covering for her while she was running around with Dwight," he said. "I mean, you'd think after just seeing what happened to Mark, they'd remember to keep their hands off each other, but maybe it got them in the mood. I haven't seen someone get the iron twice but, hell, I don't know what they're into."

"Dwight's missing, too?" I asked. My curiosity was genuine this time. I wondered if Sherry had managed to convince him to leave with her and if Daryl had torn him to pieces yet.

"I so badly want to believe you, Naomi," Negan said, shaking his head. "I really do."

"Look, I'm sorry you're having trouble keeping track of your people, but it has nothing to do with me," I said. "Have you thought about not permanently scarring the people around you? Maybe then they'd-"

"Hey!" he snapped. A piece of spit flew from his mouth. "I'd be very careful how you talk to me right now."

My mouth went dry. I hadn't been this scared of Negan killing me since he'd first introduced himself. Every conversation since then, he'd seemed amused enough by my anger or pain to keep me alive. A plaything to wind up when he was bored. But now he was the angry one. He was the tightly wound string about to snap.

"We found Dwight exactly where he was meant to be. And he's playing it as dumb as you, sweetheart," Negan said. "But one of you has got to be lying."

"Why do you think it's me?" I said. "I ain't got enough power around here to get someone out, and if I did, do you really think it would be Sherry?"

"Funny you should say that," he said. He crouched down in front of the bed I was sitting on, looked me squarely in the eye. "Because your boyfriend's gone AWOL, too. You know anything about that?"

Something in my chest unclenched. I breathed easy for the first time in a long time. The relief that flooded me was so strong it made my hands shake.

They did it. They're safe.

The realization hit me so hard it brought tears to my eyes.

"Daryl's gone?" I said, my voice came out weird. Higher-pitched than normal. I was fighting back tears, and I hated that Negan could see it. His face gave nothing away, but he continued to study mine intensely.

"You think I'm lying?" he asked. I shook my head. For once, I prayed he wasn't. "You think I'm an idiot?"

"No," I said truthfully. He was an asshole, but he wasn't an idiot. It would be easier to escape from him if he was.

"You see him up here, tryna get to you?"

"No," my voice faltered. It felt like a trap.

"Are you dead?" Negan asked.

"What?"

"You're not the first damn dead bastard to learn how to talk, are you?"

"No…"

"That's interesting, don't you think?" he said. "Because it wasn't so long ago that you were telling me with absolute certainty that Daryl wouldn't leave here unless you were with him, or he knew for sure that you were dead. So if you're still breathing, why the hell is he gone?"

Shit.

I swallowed hard. I had no response to that. "Guess I was wrong…"

"I don't buy it," Negan said, he knew he'd let me talk myself into a corner. "He fought so damn hard to get to you last time he got out. What would make him give up and take off with one of my wives? Damn, did he fall out of love so fast? Men are assholes, huh? That it?"

I said nothing, but the weight that had been drowning me was starting to lift. I'd never once doubted that Daryl would do right by Mia and that leaving her in his care was her best chance. He would save her at any cost. But now, I was especially glad. Looking after her would've stopped Daryl from doing something dumb like coming back for me. Mia would save him, too.

"Y'know the part that really fucks with my brain?" Negan said, leaning in real close. "There's a kid missing, too... Sherry, Daryl, and some kid all disappear on the same day. What are the chances of that, huh?"

"I dunno," I said, folding my hands into my lap to hide the fact that they were shaking. "Kids run away all the time, right? Was Sherry close to her?"

"Didn't say it was a girl," Negan said. My stomach dropped. "But it is. And you'll never guess her name."

Shit.

"Because it was damn familiar to me. And I couldn't for the life of me think about where I'd heard it before," he said. I raced through the memory of every conversation we'd had about Mia, couldn't remember saying her name. I'd been careful not to. But the way he was toying with me made it clear that he knew. "And then it came to me. I hadn't heard it. I'd read it. On this."

He pulled out the photograph from his pocket. The 'Happy Birthday, Mia' sign in big, treacherous letters behind our heads. My eyes stung.

"Mia," her name tumbled out of my mouth in a sob. For a moment, that photograph was all I could see. My brilliant little sister. I might never see her again. And then, because I knew my only chance of getting out of this was to keep playing dumb, I added, "She's alive?"

There were genuine tears in my eyes and a tremor in my voice. I hoped it looked like shock, but it was fear. Now that Negan knew about her, I was terrified she'd face the consequences if he found them. I was so caught up in that fear that I didn't realize Negan had raised his fists until the first punch had already landed. My jaw stung.

"Sherry, Daryl, Mia," he said, landing a punch for each name. My face. My ribcage. My stomach. "You know what they have in common? The only thing that links them? You."

I hurt everywhere. I looked up at him.

"If Daryl knew Mia was here," I said. "He'd leave without me. He loves her like she's his blood. He'd keep her safe. Keep her away from you."

It was maybe the first honest thing I'd said in this whole conversation.

"No, no, no," Negan shook his head with each syllable, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. A stark contrast to the hard hit that landed on my face. I tasted metal, spat out blood. "Don't lie to me, Naomi."

"I ain't."

He grabbed the front of my shirt and hauled me to my feet.

"Do you know where they are?" His hand closed around my throat.

"No."

"Do you know where they'd go to hide out?" He tightened his grip.

"No," I choked out.

"Take a guess," he tightened it again. I clenched my jaw. Glared defiantly back at him. There was no way in hell I'd give them up. I wasn't sending him to Hilltop, but I wasn't sending him to the other communities, either. My legs lifted off the ground. Darkness bloomed in the corners of my vision. I struggled for air, blood rushed in my ears.

Kill me.

Kill me, you fucker. I already got what I need.

He was choking me too hard to say any of it out loud, but I hoped he could read it in my face. There was peace in my heart. If he killed me now, I'd still die feeling like I'd won. Daryl and Mia were safe.

"The only reason I am letting you live," Negan said, his face so close to mine that I could feel the warmth of his breath as I struggled to take one of my own. "Is because I want him to watch you die. I want all of your friends to watch you die in the slowest way. I want him to see you suffer and know that it's on him. Baby, when I'm done with you, he will be begging me to kill you."

I tried to say something back. To spit in his face, tell him to go to hell, but his grip on my neck was too tight. I couldn't get a word out. My vision flitted between him and the ceiling and back again as my eyes rolled back in my head. I fought it. He let go, and I dropped to the floor. Negan barked orders at someone. For a few short, shallow rasps, my breathing was all I could focus on.

Two men grabbed my arms and forced me to my feet. They pulled me from the room and along the corridor to the stairwell. I didn't resist. I knew I couldn't fight my way out of this one, not yet. Negan walked ahead of us, taking the stairs two at a time. He took me down to a familiar corridor and a familiar door.

Daryl's door.

"Until I work out what's gone wrong here today," Negan said, "you can both have the privilege of rotting in this cell."

Both?

I was pushed into the room. I caught sight of Dwight huddled in a corner, covered in blood and clutching what looked like a dislocated shoulder. The door slammed and shut out the light. The room smelled of piss and shit and vomit. Nothing to sit or sleep on. Not even a window. When Daryl had told me he was doing fine in here, it had been a damn lie. I was angry. Not at him, I got why he'd lied about it, I'd have done the same. I was mad a place like this existed and that he'd been kept in it for so long.

He's out now.

He's safe.

I had to keep reminding myself, or I'd explode.

I was glad Dwight was here, getting a taste of what he'd inflicted on Daryl. I stepped away from Dwight until my back hit a wall. I wanted to be as far from him as possible. He'd shot Lucas, and I knew what he'd done to Daryl, I could've killed him for it. Like he could feel my hatred for him radiating off me in the small space, Dwight cleared his throat. "You're Daryl's girl, right?"

"Keep his name out of your fucking mouth," I snapped. Dwight fell silent. "I got my own damn name."

"Sorry," he said. "My memory ain't so good."

Are you fucking serious?

He'd asked for my name while Lucas lay bleeding out on the railway tracks. Had he forgotten that moment already? Or was he pretending because he knew it would make me think about it? I should've shot him there and then.

"You're an asshole," I muttered, leaning my head against the stone wall, staring up at a darkness so thick it hid the ceiling. I wanted it to swallow me, take me away from this place.

"Yeah," he said in a quiet, self-pitying way. "That much, I remember."

Oh, fuck off.

I was glad he'd been beaten already. If I attacked him, nobody would notice extra bruises. I couldn't kill him, I didn't have anything on me to fight off a Walker if he was left here long enough to turn. Was that why Negan had locked us up together, so we'd kill each other?

"How bad are you hurt?" I asked.

"Do you care?"

"No. But I don't wanna get stuck in here with your damn corpse tryna chew on me, so if you're bleeding out, I want to know."

"Nah," he said. "It's just my shoulder."

Good.

Hope it hurts.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, presumably for the same reason.

"A little," I said. "Nothing life-threatening."

We were silent again, and I got ready to settle into it for however long Negan would leave us here. My thoughts were already back with Daryl and Mia and what they might be doing. I knew they'd be upset, but I didn't want to think about that. I pictured them a few months or weeks from now, whenever I finally got out of here. Daryl and I could take her hunting, Mia and I could tell him about our time in DC so he wouldn't feel like he'd missed out on it anymore. I knew that bugged him.

Dwight interrupted, "Sherry said that you-"

"We ain't gotta talk," I snapped. He fell silent again, but I knew it wouldn't be for long. His frustrated and barely-suppressed sigh made my skin crawl.

"I just…" he said tentatively, clearly expecting me to bite his head off. "Did… did she have a part in this?"

"I ain't telling you shit."

"Why? You think I'm going to report back to Negan?"

"Why else would he put us both in here?"

"You think I'd be this badly beaten up if he put me in here to spy on you?"

"Yes," I said. "Negan burned half of your face off, and you did everything for him. You put a bolt in my friend. Kept Daryl locked up in here like a fucking animal. Think I didn't see the bruises on him? Think I don't know that it was you that-"

Anger had propelled my feet forward, forced my fists to clench so hard my nails dug into my palm. It's harder to throw punches in the dark when you can hear your target scramble away from you but not see where he's running off to. I stopped myself.

You can't kill him, he'll turn.

I repeated it as many times as I needed to calm myself down, to feel my fingers relax again. I backed off.

"Yeah," I said. "I don't think a bit of blood will stop you from being a goddamn rat."

There was another short silence. His breathing sounded heavier. I couldn't tell if it was fear or anger or pain from his injuries. Then he said, "I'm sorry for what I did, you gotta know I didn't do any of it for Negan."

I already knew that. "For Sherry?"

"Yeah."

I got it. Negan could've burned my face and beaten me to a pulp, but if he'd had Daryl or Mia as leverage, I'd have done anything he asked. It didn't make it okay, but I understood. If I had killed Dwight on the railway tracks, it would've been some other asshole in here torturing Daryl. Negan was the enemy here, anyone else could be dealt with once he was gone. I hesitated, and then said, "Sherry's safe. If they got away from here, she's safe. She's with good people."

His sigh of response felt tinged with the same relief I'd had when I'd found out they'd escaped. He whispered, "Thank you."

I expected more follow up questions, for him to dig deeper about how it had gone down, but he didn't. So far, Dwight was unrecognizable for the man I'd met before. It was as if the shadow of the man he'd once been, the one Sherry had known, had followed him while he did awful shit, and now that he was stuck in the dark, it was all he had left.

Two Dwights existed, one who'd risked it all to get his wife and sister-in-law out of this place, and one who'd shot my friend and tortured the man I loved. The question was, which version was I talking to now, or were both of them listening?

"If you were doing all of this for Sherry-"

"I was," he said before I could finish.

"What are you going to do now she's gone?" I asked. "Now that you don't have her as an excuse."

"If Negan doesn't kill me, you mean?"

"Yeah," I said. "Will you leave, too?"

"I don't know," his words were weak and got lost in the dark. Dwight was drifting. I couldn't tell if it was toward his old self or back to the guy he'd become for Negan. He'd probably gotten comfortable with being Negan's pet. "I got nowhere to go."

I couldn't offer him a place with us like I had with Sherry. I knew it would be the best way to get his help in taking Negan down, but he'd done too much damage. I couldn't look past it, nor would many others, and Daryl would shoot him on sight. So, I shifted the subject and hoped whatever was left of his relationship with Sherry would be enough.

"I think Sherry left," I said. "Because she didn't want you to be under his control anymore. After everything that Negan's done to you two… I think she wanted to take some of that power away from him. So that you could be who you were before all of this."

"Yeah?" he said. "I'm not sure I remember that guy."

"Sherry does," I said, hoping that would be enough to coax the best version of Dwight out into the light.

"You mad a Daryl for leaving you here?" he asked me.

"God, no," it was such a ridiculous question, it made me smile despite everything else I was feeling. "I wanted him to."

"I get that," Dwight said. "I'm glad Sherry left, too."

I still couldn't tell if his attempts to form some kind of connection were genuine or if he was trying to play me so he could feed something back to Negan and save his own skin. I started to wonder if I cared either way. Negan already knew I had the biggest connection to his escapees, and the most to gain from them getting out of here. I guess the only thing stopping him from being certain was that I hadn't disappeared with them.

"You think he'll come back for you?" Dwight asked.

"Nah," I said, and hoped it was true. "He's got my sister to look out for. I'll find my own way out."

"That's who the kid was?" Dwight said, like something suddenly made sense to him.

"Yeah."

"You think that's enough to stop him from coming back here?"

"It better be," I said, but I instantly doubted it. Having Mia would have stopped him from turning around immediately, but would it stop him in the long run? If she settled in someplace safe, with Bryce in the Kingdom or Aaron in Alexandria, would Daryl try and come back for me? Would things be better for both of them if I was dead?

"You really think your people are working to bring Negan down?" Dwight asked.

"Yeah," I said. "You can't keep a guy like Rick down for long."

"If you got the chance, would you kill him yourself?"

"Negan?"

"Yeah."

"If I had any kind of weapon, I'd have done it already," I muttered. "I'd do it with my bare hands if he didn't always have some damn entourage following him around."

Dwight was quiet for a moment, he understood the sentiment. I wondered if it was how he'd felt when he and Sherry had come back here before she'd made the deal to save his life. We didn't speak again for a while, but every now and then, he'd let out a strained exhale, probably because of his shoulder pain.

"Stand up," I told him. "I can help."

"What?"

In the dark, I heard his feet scuff against the ground as he tried to get away from me. He expected me to hurt him, which was fair enough because I wanted to.

"Your shoulder," I said. "I can help, stay still."

Dwight stopped moving then, quit trying to find a place to hide from me in a damn broom closet, but he didn't move back to me, and his voice was heavy with suspicion, "You'd help me? After everything I did?"

"Yeah," I said, although I was still a little undecided, and he was tipping me back towards 'no.'

"Why?"

"It'll fix your shoulder," I said. "But it's gonna hurt like a bitch. So, it'll make us both feel better."

I moved slowly toward him in the dark, my hands stretched out in front of me until they bumped into him. I stood behind him and put one hand on his back, feeling my way towards the affected shoulder blade. I put my other hand on his arm.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" he asked nervously.

"Yeah," I said. "Had to do it for Daryl once."

I cared a lot less about doing it correctly or gently for Dwight, and when his shoulder popped back into place, the pain made him scream. It was as satisfying as I thought it would be. He breathed heavily through his teeth for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside.

"Thanks," he said. "And... that hurt like a bitch, so…"

"Good." I was about to let go of him, and then I felt the leather on his back.

Daryl's vest.

I closed my eyes. My fingertips brushed against the leather until I felt the material change. The outline of those wings. I was used to missing Daryl, but this was different. Final. The longer I stayed alive here, the more likely it was that Daryl would try to come back for me. Dying might be the only way to make sure he stayed away for good. Stayed alive. Stayed with Mia.

I was okay with it. My only regret was that he'd never know I'd loved him.

I should've told him. I shouldn't have waited.

This is bullshit.

"You okay back there?" Dwight asked. His voice was more gentle than I expected.

"Yeah," I let go of him. My voice was heavy with a new kind of grief that was weighing me down. "If you need to throw someone under the bus for this, if you need to give someone up to Negan, it's okay if it's me."

"Why?" he said, surprised.

"I did it," I shrugged. "Ain't fair for someone else to go down for it."

"He'll string you up on the fence for all your friends to see," Dwight said. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "But it'll take away any leverage Negan has for getting Daryl back. Daryl can focus on taking Negan down with Rick and the others, rather than worrying about me."

Dwight was quiet for a moment like he didn't believe what I was saying.

"Can't live without him, huh?"

"Nah," I said. "Just okay with dying for him."

I sank down to the floor, with my back against the door. The same door Daryl had whispered the same sentiments through. I rested my head against it like I could reach back through time and lean on him instead.

I should've told him.

By the time Negan opened the door again, my eyes had gotten so used to the dark that the light made me flinch. He looked down at me.

"You ain't killed him, huh? I'm impressed," he said. I didn't say anything. His gaze slid over to Dwight, "Alright, Dwighty boy, you're up."

Dwight got to his feet and shuffled past me. He gave me a look on the way passed. Could've been a smile, but whether it was malice or compassion, I couldn't tell. Don't suppose it mattered. Either way, my time was up.

Daryl

Mia sat silently in Maggie and Glenn's trailer, her blank stare fixed on one spot in front of her. She didn't say anything. Didn't look at any of us, didn't cry or yell. I couldn't tell what she was thinking, and I didn't know what she needed. She was right in front of me, but it still felt like she was lost. Did she think I was giving up? It felt like I was giving up. Everything in me still wanted to get on my bike and go. I was mad at myself for staying put, and wouldn't blame her for being mad at me too. Even though she was the reason that I was staying put.

It would've understood it more if she'd cried. If she yelled at me. Thrown something. At least then, I'd have something to respond to. A place to start. But she was quiet, and that was somehow worse.

I felt lost too, like the whole world was slipping from under my feet, and I had to stop it. I had to make it right. For myself and for this little girl.

"She okay?" Maggie asked quietly. I didn't realize she'd come up behind me until she spoke. News of Sherry and Jesus's arrival had spread around Hilltop, and I couldn't stand listening to any of it. All of Sherry's damn excuses, all of the speculation about whether or not Naomi was still alive. I shook my head. Maggie touched my arm, and the sudden contact made me jump. I looked away from Mia. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head again. Maggie nodded like she understood. Maybe she did. She'd lost a lot of people, too. Some of them had been my fault, just like this. I looked away from her again.

"I shouldn't have gone without her," I said. "Not without knowing she was safe."

No wonder Mia couldn't look at me.

"You did the right thing," Maggie said, but it wasn't true. It was a lie she told me to try and make me feel better.

"I don't know what I'll do if I don't get her back," I whispered, and immediately wished that I hadn't. It opened up that dark pit inside me that made me feel like I was falling, and I couldn't stop. Dread. Fear. All of it almost swallowed me up. I needed something to hold on to. Some kind of hope. "Whatever Rick's planning, he better do it quick because I ain't-"

"Rick's not planning anything," Maggie said. I looked at her again, couldn't believe what I was hearing. Her eyes widened slightly, like some of my rising anger was showing on my face. Like she was trying to soften the blow, she added, "As far as we know."

"What?" The pit in my stomach grew.

"He's… out there finding stuff for Negan. I think he's too scared to move against him," Maggie said, folding her arms across her chest. "He doesn't want to lose anyone else, he wants to protect his kids. If he's planning anything, he isn't sharing it with the rest of us."

No.

This ain't right.

But I knew she was telling the truth, I'd seen a glimpse of it for myself when I'd gone back to Alexandria with Negan, but I'd never thought it was the full story. I thought Rick would have something, anything, up his sleeve. Submitting to the Saviors without a fight? That wasn't the Rick I knew, wasn't the one I'd been following all this time. And it wasn't one I could keep following if it meant losing Naomi.

I thought at least we'd be coming back to a group of people who wanted to fight. Maybe not quite an army yet, but a group on their way to becoming one. Would I have to build one from scratch? I didn't have time for that. I couldn't wait around. It felt bitterly unfair when Naomi would've been the first to pick up arms to defend anyone here that nobody was waiting and willing to fight for her now that she was the one who needed it.

No one except me.

"Does that sit right with other folks?" I asked.

"No," Maggie said. "Sasha ain't alright with that. Can't imagine Rosita is either. Some others in Alexandria want to fight, too. Or, so I've heard."

"What about you and Glenn?" I asked. "What about the rest of Hilltop?"

"Doesn't sit right with Glenn and me, either," Maggie said. "We've got your back if you're thinking about starting something."

"Negan's the one who started it," I said. "I'm just gonna end it is all."

"Some people at Hilltop are starting to get restless," Maggie said. "Some of them are scared, but Gregory's the real problem. He's right in Negan's pocket, and won't make another move against the Saviors in case they retaliate."

Goddamn weasel.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow," I said. "Get the word out to anyone here who wants to fight these guys. In a day or two, we're gonna take the Sanctuary. I'm gonna force them to give her back to me."

Maggie's eyes filled with that look people give you when they think you're being optimistic and don't want to burst that bubble. I knew that look. People gave me it when I was the only dumbass who still thought Sophia was out there. "And if Naomi isn't… if she's-"

"Then we'll force them to give Negan up," I said before she could finish. I couldn't hear the words 'Naomi' and 'dead' in the same sentence, I'd lose my shit. "And I'll kill him. Real fucking slow in front of everybody."

I didn't know what I'd do after that, what would be left for me or what would be left of me. I'd go back for Mia if she still wanted me around. If I couldn't get Naomi back, maybe avenging her would be enough for Mia to be able to look me in the eye again.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Maggie asked, her voice full of concern.

"Damn straight," I said. "If I gotta do it on my own, I will. I can't wait around for Rick to get his head out his ass."

"What about Mia?" Maggie lowered her voice so she wouldn't hear. I didn't think Mia was taking anything in. Guilt twisted in my gut, knowing what Naomi would say if I left Mia on her own. But she'd also be mad that I was going back for her at all. I'm sure if she got her way, she'd have me leave her to rot in there forever, so I couldn't pay attention to what I thought Naomi would say. I had a different plan.

Maggie asked, "You aren't really going to let her come with you, are you?"

"'Course not," I said. "I'll take her to the Kingdom. She and Naomi have a friend there, someone who knows her from back before all of this. He'll take care of her until Naomi and I get back."

I knew I'd been kind of an asshole last time I'd seen him, but it seemed like Bryce really cared for Mia, and I didn't think he'd use my lousy attitude as a reason to refuse taking her in. Probably be delighted to get her away from me. Maggie nodded, her lips formed one thin line like she was fighting the urge to remind me that I might not be returning with Naomi.

"Mia's welcome to stay with us," she offered. "I don't mind keeping an eye on her."

"Nah," I said. "Mia should be with someone she knows, and if the Saviors come back here, I don't want Gregory giving her up. Thanks, though."

"Alright," Maggie said. "Whatever you think is best."

It was a lot of pressure to make these kinds of decisions for someone too young to make them for herself. Especially when you knew they were going to hate you for it. Mia wanted to be there when I got her sister, but it was too much of a risk.

"Once I've been to the Kingdom, I'll go to Alexandria, try and knock some sense into Rick," I said. "If he ain't gonna listen, I'll grab whoever I can, anyone who wants to fight, and then we'll win this thing."

I knew it was a pretty vague plan. Maggie was looking at me like I was losing it, but planning something made me feel better, less hopeless.

I could fight. I was good at it, used to it. But what could I do about Mia? How could I get her through this when I wasn't sure I'd make it through myself? I was crap at dealing with my own shit, slightly better at dealing with other peoples', but I'd never had to do both at once.

I looked back at Mia. She was right in front of me, but she felt as far away as she had when we'd been separated in Sanctuary. Like there were still doors and walls between is.

I'd been there for Carl after his Mom died, but he'd also had his dad and a whole group of other people. I was all that Mia had. I had no idea what to say to her or how to make her feel better. It was such a huge thing to be totally responsible for someone. To be all they had, to have to put them first always. The weight of it damn near crushed me.

How did Naomi do this on her own for so long?

I'd wanted to be closer to Mia again. I'd wanted to be part of her life, be there for her when she needed me like she needed me now. But I never imagined I'd be thrown headfirst into it like this. Alone. Without Naomi. I never thought I'd have to do anything without Naomi again.

I got mad at myself for standing there, not knowing what to say to Mia, just staring at her like she was a zoo animal. Naomi had trusted me to look after her, and I was already failing. Standing around like a jackass, not knowing what to do, not knowing her.

You got time now. Time to fix that.

This was a second chance. It wasn't the way I'd wanted it, but it was better than nothing. All I had to do was shut down the damn pity party I was throwing for myself and talk to the damn kid. And it wasn't like I was starting from nothing. I knew more about her now than I had before this, Naomi had talked about her. I had small things to build on. I turned to Maggie.

"Hey," I said. "You got any cheese? Pasta?"

"Um… yeah," she said, puzzled by my sudden change of subject. "But we've got some leftover-"

"Nah," I said. "I wanna make something."

"Okay," Maggie said, I thought she looked mildly concerned that the guy she'd seen eating raw worms and squirrels had a sudden interest in cooking something. But she brought me what I asked for anyway, and I did my best with what little we had.

When I was done, I dragged a table across the floor and put it in front of the couch Mia was sitting on. I filled up two bowls and put one down in front of her. She frowned at it.

"What's this?"

"Mac and cheese," I said. Then, because it didn't look like any kind of mac and cheese any human being had seen before, I added, "Except they ain't got macaroni, so I broke up some lasagna sheets. And they only just started making cheese here, so I don't know if it's any good, but… your sister said it was your favorite, so…"

It sounded so lame, saying it out loud, and I wished I hadn't made it at all. I should've just taken Maggie's offer of leftovers, given her something normal instead of trying to make something else.

"It is my favorite," she said and picked up the bowl. "Thank you."

This was a terrible idea.

What if it's gross? Or I accidentally poison her?

I sat down next to her and ate out of my own bowl. Tasted fine to me, but I've eaten a lot of weird shit, so I'm not sure many people would take my food recommendations too seriously. I watched Mia out of the corner of my eye as she ate a mouthful. She didn't grimace or throw up, so I guessed that was a good sign.

"Sorry," I blurted out. She looked at me, kind of confused. "I know it ain't good but-"

"It's good," she said quickly. Too quickly, probably being polite. She hesitated and then added, "I mean… it's different, but I like it. Anyway, I survived Naomi's cooking all these years, so this is basically gourmet."

I laughed. Didn't expect to, but she brought back a whole load of memories of Naomi's terrible baking. Things that managed to be burned and undercooked at the same time.

"Yeah," I said. "She can pluck a turkey faster than anyone and gut a fish in under a minute, but anything that isn't meat…?"

I stopped, the laughter had faded and turned to an intense, acute kind of pain. One that sat deep in my chest and radiated out to every part of me. I missed her so goddamn much. Mia had been smiling, too, but it faltered now as we both realized we'd give anything to risk food poisoning from one of her charred, raw-in-the-middle meals.

"I, um… I told Naomi we talked at your dad's funeral," Mia said like she was confessing some big secret.

"Yeah, I know," I said. She looked at me, a little guilty. "Naomi told me."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Nah," I said. "Shouldn't have told you to keep it from her, I was a dumbass. Didn't expect her to be there, sure didn't expect to see you. Didn't think you'd remember me, neither."

"I did." Mia looked down at her half-eaten food again, pushed it around the bowl a little, but didn't eat anything else. She took a deep breath. "She never talked about you, I think it made her too sad, but that somehow made it more obvious that you weren't there. I dunno if that makes sense…"

"Kinda," I said. When I'd been drifting around with Merle, I hadn't talked about Naomi, but I'd carried her with me in the space around me. All the places she should have been. Every silent argument with my conscience had sounded like her trying to get me back on a better path. I'd been too mad and too damn stupid to listen.

Now the empty space around me was filled with her absence again. Mia had another few mouthfuls of food, her brow furrowed like she was still thinking, then she said, "It wasn't just that. It was her stuff, too."

"Her stuff?"

"She had a lamp by her bed," Mia said, and my stomach dropped. I thought I knew the one she meant. "She had these bookends... and a birdhouse. No matter where we moved, or what we left behind, she always took those things with us."

"Yeah?" my throat felt dry.

"Yeah," she said. "Even though we never had a garden or anything for the birdhouse, she'd still put it out on a windowsill. I never got why, but then I looked under it, and I saw your name written on it. Same with the bookends and the lamp."

I could hardly believe that she'd kept that shit... for all of those years.

Goddamn, Naomi.

"I made 'em in school," I said, my voice a little choked up. It was hard to get the words out.

"I thought so," Mia said. "Did you make them for her?"

"Kinda," I said. "They were assignments, but who else would I give them bookends to? She used to read by a damn candle, and I was worried she'd burn the place down, so I gave her the lamp. I was gonna throw the birdhouse in the trash, but she caught me and insisted on keeping it. She was always so damn… proud of everything I did."

I could feel myself turning red at just the memory Naomi yelling compliments at me until I gave in and let her have whatever it was that she was praising me for. To shut her up. And because I'd do anything to make her give me that big, beaming smile.

"Yeah," Mia smiled for the first time since getting out of Sanctuary. "She's like that."

The way she smiled made it feel like she knew from experience what I was talking about. I wondered how many things she'd made when she was little that Naomi had stubbornly kept and put up in their home.

"She told me you like to draw," I said. "Says you're really good at it, too."

"Oh," she said, and now it was her turn to look embarrassed and roll her eyes. "Yeah, I'm okay, I guess. I wouldn't take Naomi's word for it, though."

She gave a nervous and slightly embarrassed laugh.

"Maybe I can judge that for myself sometime," I said.

"Maybe," she said, with a noncommittal shrug. She looked back down at the bowl in front of her, I was happy to see it was almost empty. "Anyway, that stuff she kept made it feel like you weren't gone. Like you'd just stepped out for a bit, and she was… I dunno... waiting for you to come home."

I knew she meant it to sound comforting, reassuring me that I hadn't been forgotten when we'd been apart. But it hurt. I wasn't worth remembering like that now. Certainly hadn't been worth it back then. I wished I could turn back the clock and tell my younger self to get his shit together.

"I'm sorry I missed so much," I said. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you guys when you were growing up. But I'm here now, and I'll be here as long as you both want me around."

Mia nodded and glanced at one of the windows. We could hear people talking outside in the failing light, but it felt far away from us both. Mia said quietly, "I'm sorry I stopped you from going back for her."

"What?"

"At the Sanctuary, you wanted to go back in," Mia's eyes were brimming with tears that she was trying to fight. "But I stopped you, I told you we had to leave right away."

"Hey," I said. A tear slipped down her cheek, and I put my bowl down on the table. "You were right to do that."

"No," Mia shook her head. "She was in trouble, she needed-"

"No, she made you promise we'd leave," I reminded her.

"If she's dead, it's my fault," Mia said, and then nothing could stop the flood of tears that came streaming down her face.

"Hey," I wrapped her up in a hug. "No. This ain't on you. She ain't dead, and this ain't your fault. Mia, you hear me? It ain't."

She took a few deep, shaky breaths and said, "Sherry thinks she's dead already, doesn't she?"

"Sherry's a goddamn moron, don't you listen to Sherry," I said, and I was glad Sherry was nowhere to be fucking seen because I'd have peeled her skin off with my fingernails. "Don't you listen to anyone who thinks she's gone, they don't know your sister like we do."

"Yeah," Mia said, her voice a little stronger. "She's tough."

"She is tough," I said firmly. "And she's smart as hell. She's going to be just fine. All she has to do is sit tight until I go and get her. You hear me?"

"Yeah," Mia said, the tremor was gone from her voice.

"I'm going to make this right, Mia," I said it like a promise. Because it was one. To her, to me, to Naomi. "I'm going to her back."

Mia sat up and looked at me, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I know you will."

She sounded so sure when she said it. it was like Naomi had passed down all the confidence she had in me to her sister.

When it was time to turn in for the night, Maggie handed us some pillows and blankets. Mia curled up on the couch. I lay down on the floor nearby. Maggie had offered me a different place to sleep, but being apart from Mia didn't feel right. Not tonight. Nothing felt right.

I didn't sleep much, but when I did, I dreamed Naomi was in my arms. She wasn't moving. Wasn't breathing. When I rolled her over, she was smiling, but it wasn't real. Like a doll. Her eyes were glassy, couldn't see me.

Come back, I begged her. Come back to me.

I wondered if she'd turn, if I'd have to put her down. But she didn't, and there was still color in her face like she was living. Her body was warm but unresponsive. Alive but not living, dead but not a Walker.

Negan's whistle announced his arrival. At the sound of it, she moved like she was following a command, stood to greet him with her doll-like smile. Her movements were stiff like strings were pulling her feet toward him and more of them were tied around her wrist. Her arm lifted from her side and slipped around Negan's waist. He grinned at me. And then he kissed her.

I woke up with a fire in me that could've burned Hilltop to the ground in an instant. I knew I could've burned down the whole damn world if I didn't get her back. I carried it with me all morning, feeling like I'd explode at the first person I saw.

Mia hadn't slept much in the night but finally seemed to pass out as the sun came up. I didn't wake her. I sat outside near Sasha. The only person in this place, other than Mia, who felt as angry and crappy as me. We didn't talk much, but neither of us needed to.

"Daryl?" Jesus said quietly. I glared up at him, still hadn't decided how much of this was his fault. "There's someone here I think you should see."

Naomi.

Did she bust out already?

"Um… no," Jesus said, my hope must've shown on my face. "Not her."

I pushed past him and walked over to take a look outside. Maggie and Glenn were standing by the gates, which were slowly closing behind a group of people. Maggie was hugging one of them

Rick.

Michonne, Carl, Rosita, and Tara all stood behind him. Rick saw me and let go of Maggie, staring at me like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He walked over, eyes all full of apologies he didn't need to make. It wasn't his fault I was in there. Wasn't his fault he couldn't get me out, either.

There was something else in his eyes too. This wasn't the same Rick I'd seen when I was last in Alexandria, who'd handed over a gun to Negan and thanked him for visiting. This one was ready to fight now. Finally.

"Are you…?"

"Fine," I told him.

"Naomi?"

I looked away from him. Couldn't bear to see someone else give me that look. That pity. That smile that says 'sorry the love of your life is dead.' I just shook my head at the ground. I was so happy to see them all. My family. But that happiness still felt wrong, selfish, when Naomi wasn't here to be part of it. It tore me up, turned me inside out.

Rick pulled me toward him in a hug. Brother to brother. He knew this feeling, this sense of loss, and he was here for me. He didn't have to say it.

I pulled away from him and looked at Tara. She hugged me, too. Before I could even catch my breath, Michonne was hugging me. We all turned toward the big house, to face Gregory together. The despair I'd been sinking into started to fall away. I was lifted out of it by the hope these people had given me.

This group of people could do anything. We'd already got through so much. Survived hell. Survived the loss of one home after another. Negan was just one other asshole in a long line. I could do this. With my family behind me, I could do anything. I wasn't alone anymore.

Time's up, Negan. This is war.

A/N: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I moved out of my flat and into a new place and then didn't have internet for a while. Not that I'm great at sticking to a consistent upload schedule anyway… (lol, sorry don't yell at me, thanks)