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SlumberingVoid — Mikey for Alpha, definitely a good exchange. Yeah, Alpha was just the worst kind of evil.

When Mikey reached the rendezvous, it was still morning. He saw the cabin through the trees, and he'd worried and debated the best approach for saying hello... after all, mostly everyone probably thought he died in that cave.

He felt a cold wash of relief when he saw Downy Beardy hitched up outside among a few other horses, meaning Lydia was already back and had probably told them.

Minnie and Yumiko were on watch, so they were the first to tell him that Lydia had, in fact, not broken the news.

"Oh my fucking god," Yumiko gasped.

"Mikey!" Minnie squealed, rushing to help him.

"I'm fine," Mikey groaned, only just noticing how much the gash in the side of his head was bleeding after Minnie pulled a rag from her pocket and pushed it against the wound. Red quickly seeped through the thin cloth.

Mikey pushed past them and stumbled through the door that almost fell out of its rotten frame, needing to see who else made it.

Jerry was the first to tackle him at the door.

"Holy shit, dude!"

"Hey, Jerry," Mikey wheezed as he was put back on his feet. The giant loosened his bone-crushing hug, allowing air back into his lungs.

Everyone stank of smoke and walker rot, and Mikey's guilt for it seemed as endless as the number of happy faces that gawked after him.

"Em?"

Mikey knew the voice. he knew it from the dark. It had been all that kept him sane in those caves, no matter how much he'd disagreed with it at times. He almost cried when he saw Magna pushing through the crowd that grew around him in the drab living room.

They grappled each other in an assault of arms, tears, and questions that they couldn't hear over their own sobs. Magna finally pulled away and grabbed his face, maybe to confirm he was real.

"You're okay," she blubbered happily as he nodded.

"You, too," Mikey laughed, putting his hand over hers.

Magna winced and then they were hugging again.

Her breathing was manic against his neck. "I thought... I thought—"

"Me, too," Mikey murmured into her shoulder. "I thought I was the only one that made it."

She bobbed her head up and down like a crazy person as they pulled away a second time, grinning and cupping his cheek again.

"Connie?" Mikey asked, gently pulling away from her touch to look around.

Magna's face soured. She shook her head.

"I lost her in the horde," she whispered, her face racked with guilt.

Mikey's eyes watered as he dipped his head, nodding as he tried not to think about it.

"Mikey!"

His head shot up, and he dropped to his knees just in time as Gracie bolted through the crowd and into his arms.

"Thank god," Mikey gasped, unable to make any more noise than that as a tiny part of the anxious iceberg in his chest melted away.

"What happened?" she asked, pulling away to look up at him. Her cheeks were black with soot. "Are you alright?"

Mikey smiled woozily, nodding. "I am now."

Gracie wrung her hands together anxiously. "Is Daddy with you?"

"Aaron's not here?"

She shook her head.

"He will be," Mikey assured her. "Give him time. Nothing can stop your dad."

She smiled at him sweetly, but he could see the doubt in her eyes. He hated that he could do nothing to take it from her.

"Is Marco here?" Mikey asked her.

Gracie shook her head. "He's gone to Oceanside for some extra horses and to get help."

He was disappointed and groaned accordingly, but was relieved to hear he was alive. "Stupid brave idiot."

Mikey endured a few more hugs, handshakes, and questions, Ezekiel and Dianne at the front of the queue. Rosita held him for the longest of anyone. He would have thought it was awkward if he hadn't been so sad when she finally pulled away and let him go. And he would have been upset that she did if not for noticing how much she winced and clutched her side after they pulled apart. Rosita led him to a quiet kitchen in the back where Nabila was hoarding her children like anyone might try to steal them from her. Eugene was sat by a window, his muddy face solemn. He and Mikey shared a nod.

"You good?" Rosita asked as she rifled through an almost used-up first aid kit after sitting him on a smelly, wet sofa in the corner of the room. If they'd known how bad things would have gotten, Hilltop might have thought to stock this place better.

"I'm alive," Mikey sighed as she gently dabbed a disinfected cotton swab to his crusted forehead in search of the cut, knowing she found it when he gasped. "Just a big bleeder."

"I'm sorry we didn't have a chance to come and get you," Rostia told him. Her face was as guilty as Magna's had been.

"Don't be..." Mikey offered her a smile as comforting as he could muster. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just took a pretty hard hit from a Whisperer." Rosita lifted her top to show the angry purple bruise on her side.

"Did anyone else make it?" Mikey asked, a little nervous for her to answer.

"Lydia's upstairs with Judith and RJ... the rest of the kids, too... we didn't lose one."

Mikey's relief came as a sharp gasp.

"Rhys and Daryl were here," Rosita said, smiling at the tears that welled in his eyes at their names and knowing they hadn't burned with Hilltop. "They just left. We lost Earl... others, too."

"I'm sorry," Mikey said as he brushed his sleeve against his eyes. Then he frowned. "What do you mean they left?"

Rosita paused the conversation until she'd finished bandaging his head, pressing her hand against her cheek.

She took a deep breath. "Negan was with the Whisperers."

Mikey was sure she noticed that he didn't react.

"Ro– Rosita..." he stammered. "It was me."

"What—"

"It was me," he said again. "I let Negan out."

Rosita's shock took a moment. It took a moment to settle like the first morning of snow, but when it did, her eyes grew wide and she was glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone else had heard the confession.

"You better keep that to yourself," she said firmly, making her hands busy by checking the bandage on his head again.

"I should tell them," Mikey argued.

"These people just lost everything... if you say anything—"

"Tell us what?" Nabila asked from the kitchen table.

"What's going on?" Yumiko asked, entering from the living room and seeing Nabila's confused grimace.

A few other heads popped around the corner, and suddenly, Mikey had the room's eyes on him.

Rosita shook her head, but he got up anyway, a hand on her shoulder to steady himself.

"It was me," Mikey said, to the room this time. "I let Negan out. I told him to kill Alpha."

"You did what?" Yumiko scoffed, surprise overcoming her anger for a split second before her face went bright red. "You did what?!"

She marched towards him but stopped when Rosita rose from the sofa between them, clutching her side but looking as fierce as she would on her best day.

"What do you mean?" Magna croaked at him from the living room doorway where she leaned.

"How could you do that, dude?" Jerry asked quietly.

"I had to," Mikey raised his voice over the questions.

"You had to?" Ezekiel asked. "I don't understand."

"Well, that makes two of us!" Yumiko barked. "Hilltop's gone, Mikey!"

"We were losing!" Mikey suddenly yelled at them all, silencing the room with his unexpected outburst. "We lost so much. None of us could do it! I knew he could. I knew he could kill her, and it needed to be done."

Jerry shook his head. "After everything Negan did..."

"You really believe I didn't think about that?" Mikey hissed, almost laughing at how ridiculous he found it. "He gutted my brother. He burnt my home."

"Then how could you free him?" Nabila asked.

"Because Alpha is evil," Mikey said bitterly. "I've looked Negan in the eyes almost every week of every year since the war ended. Even after everything he took from us, I've seen that there's still something in him — something left of him from before all that." Mikey ignored the blatant looks of disbelief from anyone that was around in those days. "And I've seen her eyes, too," he went on. "I saw her eyes, and I didn't need years to see that there was nothing behind them. No good. It needed to happen, so Negan did it."

"Wait?" Rosita asked. "Alpha's dead?"

Mikey nodded. "Negan took her out after the fight."

"A little late on the act there," Yumiko huffed.

"So she's really gone?" Dianne asked.

Mikey nodded. "I am sorry," he told them all, going back to his seat.

His chest ached, and he was about ready to melt from the passive-aggressive silence haunting the room.

"He's dead either way," Rosita said.

"What do you mean?" Mikey asked.

"You're kidding, right?" she scoffed. "Daryl and Rhys are out there to track him down. After losing Hilltop... I don't like Negan's chances."

-Rhys-

The shack leaned aggressively towards them. The hairs on Rhys' arms stood on end as Daryl and he approached the husk of boards and nails. It looked as if it was luring them inside. They crept up the steps that bent with dying groans under them. Rhys pressed his back to the wall, the door to his left. Daryl raised his crossbow to the entrance. Then he raised two fingers...

Then one...

Rhys' foot splintered the bottom half of the red door as he kicked it in on Daryl's mark — the two burst inside.

Cobwebs. An empty, wooden chair. Glass from the window scattered along the rotten floorboards.

Nothing.

"Wrong cabin?" Rhys asked Daryl as he glanced at the cobwebbed ceiling supports.

"Nah," Daryl grunted, kicking a handful of rope by the foot of the chair. "This is it."

Rhys crouched down to inspect the rope, noting that it hadn't been cut and Lydia must have wiggled her way free. Daryl found the darkest corner of the shack, propping his crossbow against the wall to pull a granola bar from his pocket. He snapped it in two and tossed half Rhys' way.

"Thanks," Rhys murmured after catching the snack. Though, with what little supplies people grabbed from Hilltop, this was more of a feast.

"What's next?" Daryl quietly asked him as he munched on his granola and berries.

Rhys scrunched his eyebrows together. "We find the asshole."

"No, I mean after," Daryl said. "You with us?"

Rhys was stunned. "How could you ask me that?"

Daryl shrugged, looking at his feet after finishing his food. Rhys thought he saw a glint of worry in his eyes before he looked away.

"You said once that you were thinkin' about looking for Maggie and Hershel," Daryl said real slow. "Wouldn't blame you if you did."

"I want to," Rhys admitted. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"You could."

"I could," Rhys agreed. "But I can't."

Daryl nodded like he got it.

Suddenly, the porch steps made a familiar creaking.

Daryl snatched up his crossbow. Rhys stashed his untouched granola in his pocket.

"Hey, kiddo, sorry, but—"

Daryl leapt from the darkness, cracking the stock of his crossbow across Negan's jaw. The man let out the grunt of a wounded boar as he hit the wall.

Rhys stuck his knife against Negan's throat, grabbing a fistful of his leather jacket and keeping him pinned against the wall.

"Shit!" Negan howled in a panic. "Look, whatever Lydia told you—"

"Shut your damn mouth!" Rhys barked, pressing his knife harder against the man's jugular until a stream of blood ran down from his blade to his fist.

"Where's Alpha?!" Daryl shouted at him.

"She is dead," Negan told them quickly, his hands gripping Rhys sleeve in an attempt to stop the knife piercing his neck like soft rubber. "She is dead. I killed her."

"Horse shit," Rhys spat, nose to nose with Negan. Before, he couldn't stand being within a foot of him, but right now, with his blade pressed against him, Rhys had never been more comfortable. "This is it. You realise that, right?"

"I'm not lying," Negan rasped against the knife. "My pocket. Check my pocket. No weapons, no tricks, I swear to you."

"Yeah, that don't mean shit," Daryl told him over Rhys' shoulder.

"Please just look," Negan begged.

Rhys held Negan still, catching the whiff of sweat and aftershave that came off him as his chest slowly rose and fell. Negan's eyes were fixed on Rhys and his knife. Daryl reached around Rhys waist, fishing through Negan's jacket pockets and pulling out Alpha's mask.

"Her mask ain't her head," Daryl said angrily.

"I know— I know— I am getting to that."

"Then get to it!" Daryl barked.

"The whole reason I threw in with them was so that I could get close enough to Alpha to slit her throat," Negan hissed, eyes still on Rhys' raging steel. "Now you all talk about silencing the Whisperers... I silenced their Alpha."

"You've spent all these years trying to get in their heads, Negan," Rhys growled. "Spewing your shit from that cell. I don't buy any of it. None of us do."

"Then why did your bestie let me out of that cell?" Negan asked. "With the help of Daryl's girlfriend?"

"Carol?" Daryl's voice went a little higher with surprise.

"Her and Mikey," Negan croaked. "Yeah, sure."

"Don't believe you," Rhys grunted, pushing the knife further, his whole fist soaked in blood as he opened up along the line Rick put on Negan's neck a long time ago — a line that should never have been closed up.

"I'll take you to her head," Negan told them. "If you kill me, you'll never know."

Rhys tied Negan's hands with the same rope he'd used for Lydia. He tied them tight enough that Negan grimaced and winced, and then he tightened them some more. They spent an hour following Negan through the forest. Rhys' neck still burned like hell, and his side ached, but he just ignored it, staring at the back of Negan's head to focus.

"Listen, this whole follow the leader routine is kinda deja-vu for me. It's the same way it went down with Alpha."

Negan glanced back at them scrunching his nose in annoyance when he saw no one was listening.

"I get it... you're both pissed that Mikey and Carol didn't let you in on the plan," Negan continued. "I'm pissed, too. Lone wolves... they're not thinking about the pack."

"Maybe I'm pissed because of Hilltop," Daryl said.

"I know I am," Rhys chimed in.

"Whole bunch of children almost died 'cause of you," Daryl told him.

Negan stopped in his tracks ahead of them, turning to glare them down with sour eyes.

"Oh, yeah," Rhys told him, pushing the wounded expression on Negan's face. "Judith and RJ. Gracie. Jerry's kids. Want me to go on?"

"You know I didn't want that," Negan growled.

"And yet that's what happened," Rhys laughed. "Surprise, surprise."

Daryl shoved Negan and his stink-eye to face forward. "Keep walkin'."

After a few more moments of quiet hiking, Negan spoke again.

"Did Carl make it out?"

"Watch it," Daryl warned him.

"I just want to know," Negan argued as he strode on. "I like him."

Rhys stopped. Negan heard and did, too, turning to face him. Daryl stood to the side, watching like a cat ready to pounce on Rhys if he lunged at Negan.

"If you like," Rhys said to Negan, "I can put you down here and now. I don't care where her head is. I don't mind staying out a few more hours, days, weeks to find it."

Negan blinked at Rhys, narrowing his wrinkled eyes at him.

"Your choice, Negan. Wanna be the first person I don't feel guilty about killing?"

Slowly, Negan turned away.

Not another word.

He kept walking.

And when they reached the border, Rhys couldn't help but feel smug about it as Negan stared up at one of the empty spikes marking their territory.

Negan started blabbering a million reasons, but when he turned around, Daryl's crossbow was aimed at his head.

"Oh, come on," Negan groaned, throwing his chin to the sky in frustration. "Guys, you know I care about Lydia! Why would I stash her out in banjo country unless the whole point was to keep her safe? "

"You want a minute to come up with another excuse?" Rhys asked, tugging out his knife from its sheath.

"I am not bullshitting you! The whole fucking point was just to use Lydia as bait so I could get Alpha alone!"

"Sure took your sweet-ass time, though, didn't you..."

"What is it with you people thinking I didn't do it fast enough?" Negan whined. "You didn't kill her. I did. It took a minute! I had to get her to trust me. Because I wasn't on some half-cocked suicide mission."

"Nah, it's because you liked it," Daryl spat over his crossbow.

Negan scowled at him but ultimately shut his eyes and sighed.

CLICK.

Rhys turned his head, but it was too late. Three Whisperers had flanked them, one with a sawn-off shotgun pointed at Daryl's skull.

"Alpha is dead... because of you," one said to Negan in a thick accent, who rolled his eyes at the piling accusations.

"Come on, guys," Rhys croaked. "We can work something out here."

"Shut up!" the skin freak with the shotgun hissed.

Rhys sighed, begrudgingly putting his hands up. Daryl dropped his crossbow and did the same.

"We kneel," the Whisperer called to his friends, "to the new Alpha."

Daryl and Rhys watched, confused, as they all dropped to one knee and bowed their heads to Negan, who let out a surprised and delighted laugh.

The Cheshire cat grin that hand haunted Rhys' worst nightmares was suddenly staring down at him.

One of the Whisperers snatched Rhys' knife from him, cutting Negan free while the other two stripped them of their weapons. Rhys and Daryl watched as their hands were tied. Negan grabbed Rhys' leg holster, stocked with knives, from the Whisperer who had taken it, dropping it by Rhys' feet.

"Well, this shit just stinks, don't it?" Negan laughed at him.

Rhys' eye twitched as he glared back.

"Sorry guys, I'm just... savouring the moment," Negan told them, groaning as he bent down to pick up Alpha's mask. "Taking my sweet-ass time."

When the three Whisperers had finished tying them up and searching them for hidden weapons, they turned to Negan, who grinned, scratched his stubble and took a few paces back — as if trying to appreciate the scene better.

"All right, fellas, first order of business—" Negan's eyes fell to the shotgun still aimed at Daryl. "Wait, wait, wait, wait... one... damn... minute. I'm supposed to be the Alpha, right? I mean, the only reason I'm fuckin' askin' is I'm a little bit confused..."

"Would you just shut the fuck up and get on with it," Rhys groaned.

"Rhysie, Rhysie, Rhysie... sweet, baby boy," Negan chuckled, taking a long pause after. "No... no, I will not."

Rhys rolled his eyes, flicking wet hair from his eyes as a light rain started to fall.

"Back to what I was sayin'," Negan sighed, pointing to the shotgun. "If I'm the Alpha, why is someone who is most definitely not the Alpha holding the badass shotgun?"

The Whisperer holding the shotgun looked down at it confused, flipping it on its side and offering it to Negan with both hands. Negan accepted gleefully, bouncing it up and down in one hand to feel the weight.

"See, that is what I'm talking about!" Negan grinned at them as he cradled the gun in his arms. "That feels fucking good. Right? I mean, I never had a kid of my own, but if I did, I would imagine this is what it's like holding your baby for the very first time, except for it turns out, mah baby can kill people by spittin' bullets at 'em!"

Rhys and Daryl shared a glance. Rhys felt a fool and hoped Daryl did, too.

"Kneel to the Alpha, guys," Negan ordered playfully.

Daryl grunted as he got on his knees. Rhys spat at Negan's boots.

"Oh, c'mon now," Negan whined as he pleaded for Rhys to play along with his game. "For me, Rhys? Do it for me?"

"I kneeled to you once, fuck-head," Rhys told him, shrugging off a Whisperer when they tried to push him down. "Just get on with whatever you're gonna do."

"Damn!" Negan groaned through grinning teeth as he stepped closer to Rhys, leaning in and whispering, "It is starting to get real now, ain't it?"

Rhys looked up at Negan as he inched closer to them. Daryl was glaring up at him.

"See, Daryl was right... when he said I liked it..."

Negan sighed.

"Fact is..."

He pressed the barrels to Daryl's forehead.

"I like it a lot."

"You should probably shoot me," Daryl grunted.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Negan warned.

Suddenly he whipped the shotgun around so it was trained on the guy that gave it to him.

BOOM!

Red mist filled the space the guy was standing in moments ago as his head exploded. Rhys felt the cloud of blood hit his face. Daryl quickly swept the legs of the Whisperer beside him, sending him to the ground with a loud grunt before scrambling on top of him and breaking his neck. Rhys dropped to his knives by his feet, snatching one from its holster and tossing it from his tied hands into the side of the Whisperer sprinting for him, who howled in pain as he tumbled to the grass. Negan aimed the two barrels of his shotgun at the whimpering guy's head and pulled the trigger.

CLICK.

"Damn, shame," Negan sighed, stamping his boot onto the guy's neck instead, twisting and killing him.

Rhys quickly grabbed another knife from his holster on the ground, freeing himself then scrambling over to free Daryl.

"See," Negan chuckled at them. "Told you I wasn't bullshitting."

Daryl grimaced at him. "Didn't have to let them tie us up, asshole."

Rhys was irritated to find no spare shells on the Whisperers, but he took the stubby shotgun with its barrel sawn off anyway.

"What, still don't trust me?" Negan joked after Rhys snatched the gun from him.

Rhys flipped him off.

"Right," Negan sighed, scratching his chin.

Daryl nabbed a small, brown canteen from one of the corpse's belts, taking a swig before handing it to Rhys and perching on a log Rhys hadn't seen in the long, wet grass to tie his bootlace.

Rhys sat beside him, taking a drink and passing it back. Negan cleared his throat behind them, and Daryl rolled his eyes before turning to toss him the water. Rhys shook his head at him.

"What are we waiting for?" Negan asked, passing the canteen back.

"You said Carol told you to wait here for her, right?" Daryl asked, looking over his shoulder at him.

"Sure, but—"

"Then we'll wait," Daryl told him sharply, returning to his boot. "It'll be easier than tracking her."

Rhys picked at a scab on the back of his hand that he'd only just noticed. He wasn't sure when it came into his life, but he knew he wanted it gone.

"Not me trying to piss you off after our little bonding session just now," Negan started, his rough voice grating against Rhys' one good ear. "I don't think she meant it. I also don't think it's a merry idea to hang around the border after blasting off that boom stick sittin' on Rhys' lap."

Rhys finally got the scab off, wiping away the small trail of blood it freed.

"You know, I wasn't bullshitin' you," Negan told them. "About Alpha."

"We know," Daryl told him, a little more consideration in his voice.

Negan slowly sat beside Rhys — as slow as a cat might settle in a dog's spot by the fire while the hound watched. He faced the opposite way on the log, looking towards the border.

"When I said that I liked it," Negan said quietly, his posturing sing-song tone gone, "that wasn't part of the act."

"Yeah, we know that, too," Daryl grunted when Rhys was quiet.

"You know when your people locked me up..." Negan was staring at them both; neither meeting his eye. "I lost everything. You know, seven years spent staring out that little window. Man, it sucked."

"Yeah, well it was meant to suck," Rhys mumbled.

Negan nodded. "It got so bad that even my memories had bars painted on 'em. So when Alpha took me in... I admit it... I— I liked it. It— it was... it was nice feeling like I mattered again. Like I was respected."

Negan leaned back a little, forcing Rhys to meet his eye this time.

"But she took it too far," he told them. "You don't kill people that don't deserve it. And you never kill kids. That's when I stopped it. I did it as fast as I could and didn't mean for those kids at Hilltop to be in danger."

Daryl had been stabbing his knife at the dirt aimlessly. "That supposed to make us like you?"

"No."

"Good."

Rhys shook his head. "You really believe that, don't you?"

Negan looked taken aback when Rhys made eye contact for the question. He nodded.

"You killed so many people that didn't deserve it, Negan. Remember the first time we met?"

Negan nodded again, his eyes dark and sunken, nothing like they had been back then.

"You were going to kill Carl and Mikey right in front of me... but, you don't kill kids?" Rhys sneered at him. "You were going to kill Sasha— someone whose only crime was standing up to you... and you only kill people that deserve it?"

Negan parted his cracked lips to speak.

"Only one thing you've said that isn't bullshit," Rhys interrupted, standing from the log. "Carol's not coming back. We need to go."