Naomi
I couldn't smell the earth when I woke up. I'd been hoping they'd throw me back in that dirt hole. At least then, I might have been able to pop open the trapdoor and hop on out of here before any of them caught on—no such luck. There was a mattress underneath me, and when I opened my eyes, there was enough dim light to see by. It was an otherwise very fortunate position, but I'd rather sleep in the mud with a chance of getting home than in a bed with little hope.
Still, I reasoned, trying to calm myself down, the trapdoor probably wouldn't have opened if there's still a mountain of snow on it. Maybe that's why it didn't budge when I found it.
Aware that Colonel Creeper had cameras everywhere and could be watching, I opened my eyes but didn't move too much. I needed time to collect myself and gather my thoughts. Plan. If they knew I was awake, they probably wouldn't leave me be. I had a two-week-long reputation as a loose canon to undo.
My head was groggy, my body exhausted. I wasn't sure if the tiredness that felt baked into me was because of pneumonia or because of whatever drugs they'd pumped me full of. I stared at the marks on my arms until my eyes lost focus.
I can't let that happen again.
No matter what they threw at me, I had to keep my cool. I couldn't afford any more gaps in my memory. I'd been missing for two weeks, well past the time that the others could reasonably be expected to believe I was still alive. But I knew, with a certainty that broke my heart, that Daryl wouldn't give up without a body. That he'd be out there right now, searching. Ignoring everything else, putting it all on hold to bring me home.
His leg.
Oh god, his leg.
He wouldn't be resting it. Wouldn't be taking care of that gunshot wound. I didn't want to think about the kind of state he might be in. Dread gnawed at my stomach. He'd be angry, probably most of all with himself. God knows how self-destructive he'd get. At least he'd have a goal, something to channel that into, and that would hopefully stop him from doing any serious damage. But… how long would that last?
At least he'd be looking after Mia. That would keep him grounded.
Oh, God, Mia.
My poor girl.
They'd been in different places. Would Daryl have been well enough to get to her? I tried to calm myself by thinking about all the other people Mia would have had around her: Lucas, Perla, Carl, Michonne, and Rick. Bryce would have gotten there as soon as possible, and I doubted Daryl would have let him go to Alexandria without him. But, if it was too snowy for me to leave this place, would the roads be clear enough for them to reach her?
She'd been so sick when I left. Recovering, but slowly. It helped a little to think of everyone else looking out for her, but there was an unshiftable heaviness in my chest.
I didn't want her to think I'd abandoned her.
Chasing after Negan had been a petty, stupid thing to do. Selfish. I'd been so blinded by rage that it had stopped me from seeing what was important: getting back to Mia. Making things right with Daryl.
Even though I was the one who was missing, I felt their absence as a physical loss. I'd been cut off from two pieces of my soul, and I could feel it like a deep pain in my chest. Much worse than the damn pneumonia.
The lights switched on without warning, a harsh but necessary interruption to the guilt I was wallowing in. I sat bolt upright.
The room was small and compact, which made sense for a bunker - no unnecessary square footage. The single bed was attached to the wall on one side and took up most of the space, with a small amount of floor space to move around. A few inches from the foot of the bed, a table was attached to the wall at one side. It looked like they both might fold into the wall so the room could be repurposed at any time. Instead of the gray concrete I'd seen on the walls on the way in, the room was painted a light yellow. I'm sure it was a shade that had been chosen based on some kind of study about the human psyche and the best color to keep people from killing each other and/or themselves when trapped underground for an unknowable amount of time. But in my opinion, it wasn't much of an improvement. I was still borderline homicidal. Maybe I could ask them for a nice poster or something. I could use it to mask the tunnel I might have to dig out of here. They'd probably say no. They'd probably also seen The Great Escape.
There wasn't much else in the room, not even a lamp on the fold-away table. And I couldn't see a light switch, meaning they must have been controlled elsewhere. I didn't like that. It was one thing to take people away from the sun, but to control their light entirely? I felt like a zoo animal without the enclosure enrichment.
Two doors were opposite the bed I lay on. They were painted the same color as the walls, so they almost blended in. One door might have been some kind of cupboard or closet, or it might have led to another room. I didn't want to try it yet. The main door was at the other end of the room, beyond the foot of the bed and the small table. Like a kid checking for monsters, I peered over the end of the mattress and looked under the bed. Two thin drawers were underneath, and then a big gap between me and the floor.
Before I could investigate, there was a soft knock at the door. I didn't move, hoping that if I stayed put, they'd leave me alone. They knocked again, and I swung myself out of bed to open the door. I hoped it was Dwight. I hoped he had a plan to let me leave.
It wasn't, but at least it was someone I knew.
"Sherry!" I gasped. That ring-stealing, deer-swiping asshole glared back at me over her head, but any familiarity was so welcome here I didn't care. She smiled, but it was a tight, tense smile.
"Brought you some breakfast," she said, holding up a tray of food. "And then you have a check-up with Jocelyn."
I nodded. That was good. I could convince her I was in the best health of my life, so she'd let me leave the second the snow thawed.
Sherry entered the room and put the food tray on the small table. The smell of warm, buttered toast made me feel so hungry; it was like my stomach was trying to eat itself. There were two clear plastic cups there, too. One was filled with something that could have been fruit juice, and the other had an assortment of pills.
Nope.
"What are the pills?" I asked.
"Vitamins," she said.
Ain't no way I'm having damn mystery pills.
Nerves made me queasy. Were they going to stay here and make sure I ate every single one?
"Your shower is in there," she said, indicating the first of the small doors I'd seen. "Toilet's in the other one. There are clean clothes in the drawer. Bart will be back to take you to Jocelyn in fifteen minutes."
I nodded. She moved back toward the door. I moved with her, not wanting her to leave just yet.
"Are you okay?" I asked her. "Did Dwight find you here, or did you both-"
"This isn't time for chit-chat," the ring-thief interrupted me. A muscle in Sherry's jaw tightened. I glanced at him; his glare was unwavering. I hoped he was the anonymous person I'd bitten when feverish.
Sherry pulled me in for a hug.
"If he'd known," she whispered. "Dwight never would have brought you here."
Known what?
A shiver ran down my spine. There was no time to ask. Sherry let go of me. Ring-stealer barked an impatient, "Hurry up," and she scurried away. The door closed again.
I picked up a piece of toast from the plate and sniffed it. My stomach groaned painfully, but I still hesitated. I wasn't touching those pills, but what if that was a decoy?
What if there's something in the drink?
Or the food?
I put it down again. I could eat when I got home.
I turned my back on it and showered in a room not much bigger than a small closet. The shower head was fixed to the ceiling and operated by a single button on the wall. The steam was good for my lungs. It made me cough a lot at first, but after that, they felt clearer. It ran for a short time at a pre-set temperature, and when it switched off, I couldn't get it to come back on again.
There was a towel in the drawer. I wrapped it around myself and sat on the bed, trying to collect my thoughts about my looming meeting with Jocelyn.
It was a good thing. I could work with it. I hadn't noticed anyone here being armed. I guess when you've shut people underground and locked them in, you don't need guards with guns strapped to them to keep them in line. If I could distract Jocelyn for long enough, I could find something to wield as a weapon.
It would be difficult to hide it here, but I'd work it out. I'd have something to hand to help me fight my way out if they were reluctant to let me go when the ground thawed. I had to believe that they would. But it was always good to have a backup plan.
I changed into the clothes they'd provided. Sadly not my own, which annoyed me because they'd surely dried out in two goddamn weeks. It was another weird, long dress that made me feel like a pilgrim. Or one of the Amish. They still hadn't given me any shoes, but if they thought that would stop me from getting out, they were wrong. I'd lose all my toes to frostbite if they got me home before they turned black and fell off.
Another knock at the door. This one was loud and booming, nothing like Sherry's. I stood up, already knowing who was behind it.
"Psycho," he greeted me when I opened up.
"Thief," I said, narrowing my eyes.
I followed him down the corridor, looking out for the blast door we'd entered course, I hoped Jocelyn would take one look at me, declare me healthy, and send me on my way. But, given our last encounter, it seemed unlikely.
"Where's Sherry?" I asked as we walked. If I was getting out, I needed information about this place, and the easiest way to get it would be from someone I already trusted.
"She works in the kitchens," he said.
"And Dwight?"
"He's elsewhere," he replied.
Very helpful.
Asshole.
We didn't pass anyone else on the way, but we also didn't travel far from the room I'd woken up in. A few doors down from mine, Brad stopped in front of a door with a metal plaque that read 'medical center' fixed to it.
"I feel like I could've found this place on my own," I said.
"You can move around on your own when you can be trusted to move around on your own," he said before opening the door. He gestured for me to go in ahead of him, probably so I didn't try and bolt.
Where would I bolt to?
This place is nothing but identical corridors with identical doors covered by a hundred feet of dirt.
Jocelyn smiled as I came in. I recognized the room—kind of. The hazy glimpses I remembered, at least. The bed I'd been strapped to was in the middle of the room; the top half had been locked in a sitting position. She patted it, "Get comfortable."
"Are you gonna strap me down again?" I asked, not moving any closer to it. The straps were still dangling off its edges.
"No," she said. "Sorry about that. You were very delirious when you got here and had a very high fever. We couldn't take the chance that you wouldn't be a danger to yourself or others."
That's fair. I did think you were all demons.
I stepped closer to the bed but didn't sit down. Jocelyn didn't push it. However, she did look a little amused.
"Now," she said. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better," I lied through my smile. "Almost breathing normally again."
I was glad the steam from the shower had opened up my airways a little. It would make it look like I'd healed more than I probably had.
"Well, that's good," she said.
"Yes," I agreed. "How's the weather looking? Has it cleared up? Because I think my lungs would be good enough to get me home if it has."
"That's good," she said encouragingly. "But I'm afraid it's still frozen solid out there. There's been another snowstorm, and I think more will come. You might be with us for a while."
Fuck.
I felt hope deflate in my chest and tried not to let it show. I tried not to let any emotion show. I didn't want to give her another reason to drug me.
"But when it thaws," I said as neutrally as possible. "You'll tell the Colonel my pneumonia has cleared up enough to go home?"
"I didn't bring you here to talk about the pneumonia," she said like I wouldn't notice she was dodging the question. "This is a prenatal appointment."
Excuse me?
"For who?"
I blinked at Jocelyn in utter confusion. I even checked behind me to see if someone else had come in behind me.
"For you," Jocelyn blinked right back at me. "You're pregnant."
For a second, it was like my brain had shut down. My one overriding thought echoed in there over and over.
I need to go home.
I need to go home.
I need to go home.
"H-how…?" I stammered, which wasn't what I meant to ask. I was fully aware of how this had happened, but I couldn't work out when. What I wanted to ask, I think, was 'How far along am I?' or ' How many weeks pregnant?', but all that came out was, "How pregnant?"
Jocelyn laughed. "You know, I thought it might have been too early for you to know. I'd say you're about six to eight weeks."
I closed my eyes briefly, counted back, and then sifted through every possibility. One stuck out like a sore thumb.
Merle's crazy juice.
The night of Daryl's surprise party was hazy, but…What I remembered was all love, no glove. Despite everything, I couldn't help but think Merle would've gotten a real kick out of the part his dumb moonshine had played in this.
"Are they… is… are they okay?" I asked, looking back at Jocelyn, terrified of the answer. I'd been so sick. "Even though I was… even though…"
I could not finish a goddamn sentence, but Jocelyn understood what I was asking.
"Well, that's what we're here to see," she said. She patted the medical bed again, "You want to jump up here so I can check?"
I nodded, climbing up onto the bed without a second thought. My own safety and comfort be damned, I needed to know that kid was okay. That I hadn't already fucked up. Compliant as a doll, I sat still while she wiped cold gel on my stomach.
"How did you… how did you know?" I asked, partly out of genuine shock and partly to distract myself from the discomfort. It brought back vague and fragmented memories of my first time in this room.
"We ran some blood tests when you got here," she said. I felt something hard press against the places she'd put the gel. It moved around, searching beneath my skin. Invading parts of me that I'd never seen myself. I fought hard to relax. Jocelyn continued, "We wanted to check that it wasn't a bacterial infection causing your pneumonia. We also took the opportunity to test for a few other things."
"This is a real… thorough facility you've got here."
"Yes, well," she said. "The Colonel planned for everything."
I was too nervous to respond. The longer it took, the harder my heart beat in my chest. Flipping over in its cage, making me feel queasy.
"There we go," she said after a moment. My ears pricked up, trying to tune into any sign that she'd seen something she was worried about. Jocelyn was as unreadable as ever.
"Are they okay?" I asked.
"Yes. It all looks fine," she said. "You want to see your little one?"
"Can I?"
Jocelyn spun the monitor around to face me. "I wouldn't normally take a look this early, but given how sick you were when you got here, we should keep a close eye on this."
"But everything looks fine?" I asked, staring at the screen as she repositioned the ultrasound slightly.
"Yes, look, right here," she said, pointing at a tiny area of the screen. No bigger than a pea. Just a little bean, really.
God, you're so small.
So vulnerable.
"Are you sure? I was having headaches," I said. I knew how risky these early weeks were. "And.. and nosebleeds… and…"
"All perfectly normal," she said soothingly. Part of me already knew that was true. I'd read about it a thousand times before Mia was born. But anxiety had me convinced that my headaches and my nosebleeds spelled certain doom.
"But they're really okay?" I asked again. "Even though I was so sick?"
"Yes. Everything looks nice and healthy," she said. "That's a strong kid you've got in there."
Wait 'til you meet their father.
I fiddled with my ring.
I need to go home.
The image on the screen blurred in front of me. Tears prickled the corners of my eyes. I couldn't stop thinking about him and how much he'd wanted this. How he should be right here with me, holding my hand, while Dr Carson did this kind of scan at the Hilltop. My hand gripped the flimsy sheet on the medical bed, searching for something stronger. Some one stronger.
"You'd be surprised how resilient children are," she said, mistaking my sudden tears for a continuation of my anxieties and not a sudden wave of homesickness. "Even before they're… well, even before they're children yet, I suppose. Don't worry, we'll keep checking in to ensure everything's developing as it should be."
"No, it ain't that," I said, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "It's just… my husband… he's gonna be so… so happy. "
I can't wait to tell him.
It was so much nicer to think of him like that - at some future moment - than suffering I knew he'd be going through right now.
Sometime soon, I'd be able to go home and tell him that not only was I not dead, but I was bringing someone else home, too. That heartbreak over our first negative test would be undone. And this time, we'd both be on the same page about it. It was hard to imagine a kid more wanted than this one. 'Happy' wasn't even the word for it. It wasn't strong enough for how he'd take the news. Once he got over the initial panic about where I'd been for the last two weeks and freaked out about the lingering pneumonia, that was. His typical overprotectiveness would kick into overdrive, I was sure, he'd probably also lock me up somewhere to prevent me from doing anything else. Still, at least it would be somewhere I wanted to be.
Shit.
Shit, I really gotta start taking care of myself.
"I…skipped breakfast," I blurted out. "And I didn't eat those vitamins."
"Why?"
"I thought y'all might have put something in it."
"Put something in it?" she repeated like I'd accused her of the unthinkable.
"You did drug me. A lot." My arms itched.
"We sedated you," she said like that made it any better. "But, I take your point. Do you trust us now?"
No.
"I trust you not to hurt my baby," I said. In my head, I added, "Because if you do, I'll turn this bunker into nothing more than a smoldering crater of ash in the ground. " But I didn't say that; I needed them to think I wasn't a threat to them if they were ever going to let me go. Instead, I said, "You seem pretty excited about it."
Even though we won't be staying.
"Kids are the future. Bringing life into this world ruled by the dead is a blessing," she said. I hoped she was sincere. She put the ultrasound away. "I'll get you some food. And those vitamins are very important. Will you take them this time?"
"Yes," I said immediately.
Jocely nodded her approval and left the room.
The door locked behind her. Clearly, I still wasn't to be trusted.
Only when I had a moment alone did Sherry's words come back to me, "If he'd known, Dwight never would have brought you here."
Was this what he'd known? Had Sherry known? I was willing to bet that Jocelyn had told the Colonel before I was fully conscious. Felt like everyone in the world knew before I did.
Not everyone.
Daryl doesn't know.
Mia doesn't know.
That wave of homesickness hit me again. I'd been here too long already. It didn't matter that I was bringing such good news home when they'd both be suffering so much now. I tried to think about the people they'd have around them; Bryce, I knew for sure, would do anything for them. But, if the snow was as bad as Jocelyn said, would anyone be able to be there with them? The thought of them, miserable and snowed in, maybe not even together, made me want to start screaming.
It was so overwhelming that it took me a moment to realize that Jocelyn had left me alone in the medical room. I could have slipped down off that medical bed and rummaged through all sorts of things before she got back. Found all kinds of implements designed to cut flesh. This had been exactly what I'd wanted on my way in, but something kept me rooted to that bed. What if they found it on me and started drugging me again? I needed to be alert and healthy, so they'd let me go.
I couldn't fight my way out of this one. I couldn't take the kind of hits I'd taken at Sanctuary. I had a kid to protect, and I'd already put them through too much.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were with me," I said real quietly, putting a hand over my abdomen. I whispered, "It's you and me now, kid. We'll get out."
I was getting us out of this damn place whether they opened the doors for me or not. But I was going to have to be sneakier about it. It wasn't just that I had a family to get back to anymore. I had a family to unite .
Daryl
There was sunlight on the dash, but it was cold in the truck. Silent.
Mia sat in the backseat, staring blankly out of the window. Her expression had been so unreadable lately. She'd barely said two words to anyone. Neither had I. What was there to say?
I didn't tell her to hop up front and ride shotgun. She didn't ask to. We both knew who was meant to be in that passenger seat, feet on the dash, passing out snacks and giving me shit for humming. I didn't look over at it, but I could feel the emptiness radiating from it for the whole drive.
Sanctuary was the same when we got there. Bigger. Emptier. Fucking meaningless. Neither of us moved when I pulled up. The reality that we were back here, without her, seeped into the stagnant air. The last time Mia and I had driven back from Alexandria, Naomi had been at the door before we could open it. Before I'd even finished getting our bags out of the trunk, she had scooped Mia up in a big hug.
I'll never see that smile again.
Now, those doors stayed shut as we stared at them. When they opened, after several minutes, it wasn't my girl's big, beautiful smile that greeted us. It was Rick, looking worried. He looked worried a lot these days, mostly in my direction.
Something about the doors opening pushed Mia and me out of the stupor we'd sunk into, probably both thinking the same thing, both waiting on the same ghost. She undid her seatbelt and lowered her gaze from those treacherous doors.
I helped Mia out of the car. She still had to move slow. Take breaks. Sometimes, the pain made her wince, although I think she tried to hide that from me. This time, however, I was pretty sure the clenched jaw and fixed stare had nothing to do with the physical wound on her side.
I wished I knew what to say to her.
Wished I knew what to say to anybody. I couldn't even look them in the eye most of the time. The news that I'd killed Negan had traveled fast. Rick and Michonne were back at Sanctuary with us in case it caused more unrest with the Saviors. They probably thought I kept my eyes on the ground out of guilt, shame maybe, but that wasn't it. One wrong look from any of them, and my hands would be blood-soaked again. I couldn't stand seeing the pity in their eyes and I didn't want them to see the weakness in mine.
Not that it helped.
They could smell the broken on me.
Rooms went silent when I walked into them. Could feel their eyes on me without needing to look. They didn't say her name around me, but I could feel it following me down every hallway and knew it was being whispered every time I left.
I couldn't set foot in our room. I tried the first night that we got back, and I couldn't do more than stand there with my hand on the door handle. Must've been there for about an hour, trying to psyche myself up to go in. But I couldn't stand the thought of opening that door and not finding her in our bed. In my shirt. Reading her damn books. Waiting up for me with a smile and kiss that made a hard day go away in an instant.
So, I walked away from it. Didn't know where else to go, so I went down to my workshop. Where that bottle of Merel's drink was waiting for me. It was strong enough that we'd barely dented it. I knew it wasn't good - drowning my sorrows in a batch of my dead brother's hooch mixed up by my dead almost-wife - but I couldn't stop myself. The burn was the first welcome thing I'd felt in a long time. It numbed everything enough that I could sleep under one of the work benches.
Didn't ask Rick how long he was planning on staying this time. Sanctuary could rot for all I cared. I barely saw the place. It had snowed a little more, but nothing like the storms she'd vanished in. It meant I could be outside looking for her from dawn until dusk. I'd join them all for dinner, make sure Mia got to bed all right, and then drink enough to sleep without dreaming about Naomi.
A week went by. I think Rick expected me to snap out of it at some point, like being back in that shithole would remind me I had a job to do, but it didn't. My duty was to my family, not this building. Not the assholes in it. Even producing biofuel meant nothing to me anymore. Not when she wasn't here with that dumb, proud-of-me smile.
Then, one day, I got back from searching, and they were all waiting for me in my workshop. They'd brought food from the cafeteria. The bottle of Merle's moonshine was in the middle of a table they'd pulled together. I felt everything in me tense when I saw it. Like a kid who'd been caught sneaking booze when they shouldn't.
I looked at Rick. Waited for him to confront me. Part of me wanted the fight.
But it wasn't about that. Michonne smiled at me and said, "There you are! Sit down, Daryl. Join us."
"You've been working so hard lately," Rick said, handing me a plate. "We thought we'd bring dinner to you."
Working, huh?
That what you're calling it?
I took the plate and said nothing. Sat down in the only empty seat, right between Bryce and Mia. I couldn't look at her either, but it was out of shame that time.
I was itching to reach for that bottle. I wanted to hide it from them, even though they'd already seen it. Sure as shit didn't want them drinking it because I didn't have a plan for what would happen when it ran out. I didn't have a plan for anything much beyond getting up, searching, going to bed. They didn't know how much of it I'd been putting away every night, assuming it was low because of when we'd all had some at the party. Rick silently poured a few drinks, passed them around, and held one up in a toast.
"To Naomi," he said.
I felt my hackles rise like a cornered dog. Slammed the drink back but didn't join the chorus of "To Naomi" that rippled around the table. I poured myself another without offering it to anyone else. I hoped that would be the last of Rick's Big Ideas, but it wasn't. He kept running his mouth.
"I know she and I didn't get off to the best start," he said. I stared resolutely at the food in front of me and didn't take a bite. Seemed an unwise move of him to bring that up, to remind me he wanted to shoot her the first time they'd met. "But she very quickly became someone I could depend on. She was never afraid to disagree with me but was always one of the first to back me up once a decision was made. Supportive and always trying to find the best in people. The way that she managed to turn this place around is a testament to that."
My gaze flickered over to Mia, who was staring at a spot on the table in front of her like she didn't know where to look. How dare he talk about Naomi like that right in front of her?
Was.
Was was was.
The fuck do you mean 'was'?
My hands were shaking. I wanted a fucking drink.
"She was the first person I ever came out to," Bryce said quietly.
Not you, too.
I poured myself another and looked at him out of the corner of my eye. Didn't even look like he knew he'd spoken until Rick gently encouraged him, "Is that so?"
"Yes," Bryce said. "Although I didn't really mean to do it. She caught me making out with this guy at a party. This truly awful jock who was as deep in the closet as I was. Maybe even more so because he ran away the second that Naomi opened the door. I thought for sure she'd tell everyone, but… she just looked at me and said, 'you could better, y'know' and shut the door again."
On his other side, I heard Michonne let out a soft laugh.
"She even came with me when I told my parents," Bryce said. I didn't look at him, but I could hear from the way his voice shook that he was either crying or on the verge of it. "We sat in the car outside their house for about an hour while I was trying to gather the courage to go inside. Eventually, she told me she'd beat them up if they didn't accept me the way I was, and the thought of that was somehow ridiculous enough to get me out of the car."
Bryce sniffed. There was another soft laugh from Michonne. Not amusement, sadder than that. Mournful.
I cleared my throat.
"Something you wanna add, Daryl?" Rick asked. He asked it so quietly. So gentle. Like he was speaking to Judith or something shit.
Deep down, some reasonable part of me knew Rick was trying to do something nice, but that part was buried too deep to be in control. I couldn't fucking stand it. Felt too much like a goddamn wake. Like they'd given up on her.
Part of me was aching for another fight. Killing Negan hadn't been enough. I needed more. I needed the kind of pain I could fix.
I looked up at him. Couldn't remember the last time I'd looked someone in the eye, certainly not Rick. He flinched. He fucking flinched, his face dropped as he saw what a mistake he'd made.
"When I was little, my Momma said I had to go to court," Mia said quietly before I could say anything. The whole table stilled. I sat up a little straighter. "She said Naomi was trying to take me away from her, and I shouldn't let her. She told me to say bad things about her that weren't true."
My heart clenched just when I thought it couldn't hurt any more than it already did.
"I wasn't allowed in the courtroom while the proceedings were happening," Mia continued. "I had to sit with some case workers, but after an hour or so, Naomi was allowed to come and see me. She was dressed in this weird purple skirt suit I'd never seen before. I asked her why she'd dressed up as Daphne from Scooby-Doo. "
"That was my Mom's," Bryce said, with a half-laugh, half-sob. "I remember her borrowing it."
"Naomi told me that some people were going to ask me questions about her and Momma, and I needed to be honest with them. She said that she'd love me forever, no matter what I said or what I chose. And then she had to go," Mia hadn't looked up from the spot on the table she was staring at. "When they asked me who I wanted to live with, I chose her."
A tear fell down her cheek, and it was the last fucking straw. It looked like she had more to say but couldn't bring herself to.
"The fuck are you playing at?" I snapped at Rick.
Rick stared at me, open-mouthed, "Daryl…"
There it was. That fucking pity.
Fight me, you prick.
"Mia. Go to bed," I told her. Felt like my blood was on fire.
"But-"
"Go."
Bryce was quick on his feet, sensing what was coming before the rest of them did. Probably remembering all too well how things had ended the last time he'd seen me liquored up and mad about losing Naomi. He scooped up Judith and tapped Carl on the shoulder before turning to Mia, "Let's go."
I waited until they cleared the room, and then I rounded on Rick. Stood up so fast it sent my chair clattering to the ground. "The fuck are you tryna do here, Rick? Huh?"
Rick looked at me wide-eyed. He stood up slow. I was already pacing. Fists clenched. Everyone else around the table tensed, looking between the two of us, but my tunnel vision was on Rick.
"I was trying to help."
"That right?"
"Yes," he said firmly. "You've hardly been here. You're not…present with us."
"Not working for you, you mean?" I snarled. "Not being a helpful little foot soldier to Rick Grimes. Now you gotta deal with your own messes for a change."
"It's not about that, Daryl," he said. "I'm happy to be here. Happy to help you keep running this place, but at some point-"
"Man, I don't give a fuck about this place. Never did," I said. "You know why I ain't here. You know what I'm out there doing."
"I know, but… you're not… You've hardly said a word since…" Rick trailed off under the glare I gave him. "I hoped talking about her might get you to-"
"Get me to what? " I yelled, interrupting even though he'd probably have told me if I'd just let him. I didn't want to let him. I wanted to fight him. Merle would've punched me by now. "Forget that she's fucking missing? 'Cause from where I'm sitting, it ain't me who needs to be reminded of that."
I turned my glare on all of them. If Rick wouldn't take the bait, I didn't care which one of them did. I wanted one of them to stand up to me. Hit me. Do anything except look at me with that fucking pity. "Y'all are sitting around here all kumbaya like she ain't out there all alone right now."
"We haven't forgotten," Rick said. So calm. So measured. "I thought it would be nice to remember some of the good things, too. That's all."
Fucking hit me, you fucking coward.
I stared at the ground, breathing hard.
"You really think that's okay? Talking about Naomi like y'all are saying goodbye? Like you've given up? Talking like that in front of Mia?"
Rick frowned. "Mia wanted to talk about her. It's important that she does. It's good for her."
"Good for her?! Sitting around talking about her Mom like she's fucking dead," I said. I was done pretending Naomi was anything else to that girl. If she was haunting my ass, I hope she heard me. "You think making her do that is fucking good for her?"
"I didn't make her say anything." Rick's voice was finally starting to rise.
Hearing it, Michonne stood up, "We all want you to find her, Daryl. And we'd never want to upset Mia."
I could hear it in her voice. That unspoken 'but'. 'We all want you to find her, but you probably won't' or 'but she's probably dead'. She was refraining from saying it for my sake, but it didn't matter. It wouldn't have mattered what any of them said, honestly. Nothing but seeing Naomi walk through the front door would have calmed me down. This had been building in me for a while. Three weeks and four days, to be exact. Ever since Naomi had walked out on me.
She walked out on me.
"Did she die hating your guts? "
Rick's hand was on my shoulder. I didn't even remember him moving. My whole body was shaking.
"Daryl," that softness was back. That understanding. That pity . "I know what it's like to lose your wife."
I hurled a plate at the wall. It smashed right by the door, sending chunks of food and ceramic shards flying back at me. Rick tensed like he was waiting for a blow he knew was coming, but I froze where I was.
A small shadow moved away from the door, but not before I'd caught her eyes. Afraid.
I knew that look. I'd given that look. Hiding out behind a half-open door while a drunk asshole who's supposed to be looking out for you did nothing but destroy everything in his path.
My Dad had been an asshole for as long as I could remember, but it got worse after Mom died. Blinded by his own pain, like he was the only one who'd lost anything, he hadn't cared that Merle and I had been grieving too.
'Even if something happened to me, you would be there for them, raise them right, and love them twice as hard.'
I'd already failed her. That list was wrong.
"Daryl..," Rick said, a note of panicked warning in his voice as I picked up the bottle again. He held his hands out like he was trying to stop a bull from charging him. "Why don't you give that to me, alright? Just… hand it over."
I glared at him, walked over to a sink at the side of the workshop and dumped the whole thing out into it. Watched it swirl down the drain. Whatever codes Naomi had that stopped me from going nuclear, turns out she'd passed them down to Mia.
A silence had fallen over the room. Nobody wanted to breathe too loud in case it set me off again.
I wanted to throw the empty bottle, but I didn't. I set it down and looked back at Rick. "You ain't gotta worry 'bout me."
"Daryl," Rick shook his head in disagreement. "What you've lost… what you're going through…"
"I've got Mia," I said. "I ain't sayin' I'll ever be okay. Or I'll ever stop looking, but… that little girl deserves better. She deserved me to be here. Properly."
Rick relaxed, but his eyes didn't get any less sad. I walked away from them.
Mia wasn't in the corridor anymore. I took a set of stairs I'd stopped trying to climb most nights to a corridor I avoided going down. Mia's door was shut, right opposite the bedroom I wasn't even attempting to sleep in anymore.
Bryce was outside Mia's door. He hesitated when he saw me.
"She okay?" I asked. Dumb question.
"She's… I don't know…not great," Bryce sighed. "I tried to get her to stay away, but she wanted to come back down."
"I appreciate that," I said. I forced myself to look at him. "I won't be like that again. Not ever. Especially not around her."
Bryce nodded. I thought for a moment he'd yell at me. Say something about how I'd made those kinds of promises before. Maybe he'd fight me, right I was calming down. But he didn't. He stepped up and hugged me. Very quietly, he said, "She loves you so much."
I didn't ask if he meant Naomi or Mia. I didn't want to know.
I patted him on the back, unsure what to do with myself. I found myself saying, "You too."
I didn't know which one of them I meant, either, but it didn't matter because both were true.
Bryce let me go with another pat on the back. I turned to Mia's door and waited for him to leave the hallway. I didn't look at it, but I could feel that other door across the hallway at my back. Like it was staring at me, willing me to make things right. A hard thing to do when the whole world felt wrong.
Mia opened her door the second I knocked on it. Her eyes were all red around the edges, which made me feel even more like a piece of shit. Easiest apology I'd ever given in my life, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you had to see me like that."
"It's okay," she said, all quiet.
"No," I said. I didn't want her growing up accepting that kind of behavior from anyone. Just because it was me, or because it could have been worse, didn't make it okay. "It ain't. But it won't happen again."
"I wasn't trying to say goodbye to her," Mia said, her bottom lip trembling. My heart sank as I realized how much of my outburst she might have heard. I pulled her in for a hug. "I just…miss her. I can't believe I might never see her again."
My guts twisted up. We had an unspoken agreement that neither of us talked about it like she was dead for sure. Or, at least, that's how it felt on my part but maybe Rick had been right. Maybe it was better for Mia that I come back down to reality.
I tried to think about what I needed when my Mom was gone. What Merle needed.
"You can talk about her as much as you want to," I said. "I… I ain't ready to. But I'll listen to whatever you wanna tell me. I wanna hear anything you want to say about her. That sound okay?"
"Yeah," she said. I felt her nod. "I just hate that she's alone. No matter where she is, or if she's…"
"Yeah," I said so she didn't have to say the word.
Mia sniffed. "She only just stopped being alone. She was always alone before you."
"No, she wasn't, she had you."
"You know what I mean."
I did. Because no matter how many people were around me now, there'd always be a part of me missing. It had been missing before but had grown so much since the last time it was gone. I knew fully what I'd lost this time. Being without her had been unbearable back then. I'd tried to drown it out. Mindlessly following Merle. Living without caring if I saw the next sunrise. Couldn't live like that now. I had a kid to protect.
"I'm gonna be here from now on," I promised her, letting go of that long hug to look at her and see if that sadness was any better."Properly this time."
"I don't want you to stop looking," she said, worried.
"I won't," I said, and I meant it, but I couldn't afford to lose myself doing it. I couldn't lose sight of Mia, either. "I ain't ever gonna stop looking for her, but you're my priority too, you know that, right?"
"Yeah," she said, but it wasn't as confident as I'd have liked. I'd have to earn it back.
"It's you and me now, kid," I said. "We'll get by."
Right now, it was a lie, but one we both needed.