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Futago no Akuma Shimai — It's really fun going between the horrors at Alexandria and the nonsense of the Kingdom, I kinda wish the show had played with the two tones a little more, but oh well. That's awesome to hear, I'm curious how long it took to binge, this fic is crazy long now, aha! Welcome back to the roller coaster that is Rhys' life!

Chapter 103- Service: Please and Thank You

-Carl-

Three days since the lineup.

It's been three days since Negan murdered Glenn and Abraham. There's been no word from Maggie, Sasha, and Mikey. Dad keeps saying they must have made it, that it wasn't that far by car. But Morgan's still not back with Rhys and Carol, so I'm not in the mood for hoping.

"You know they're fine, right?" Enid yawns in my face. We're lying on top of the gazebo, the roof warm under us from the morning sun. We're on our sides, facing each other with our foreheads pressed together, like we're trying to think up some fantastic idea, but we're not. This is just something we've started doing since the rest of us got back three days ago — I was lying in the grass by the lake that evening, and she just came up to me and did it, lying herself down beside me and pushing her cool forehead against mine. I'd laughed at her the first time. But now I think we both get to somehow feel less lonely like this. Like her best friend isn't miles away, and mine hasn't run away from me.

"How do you know what I'm thinking about?" I ask, frowning at her. I raise both eyebrows, even though one's covered by my bandage.

"Cause you get that 'everyone's dead' look on your face when you're thinking about people you can't see."

I look away, turning my head until her forehead is pressed against my temple, not liking how she reads my one eye. I have to sit up and sneeze when a warm breeze passes by.

"Bless you."

"I don't know," I tell her, looking down at her.

"Don't know what?"

"That they're okay."

Enid shrugs. I'd hoped she might give me a reason to know.

"Who're you most worried about?"

I lie back down, putting our heads together again as I think.

"Michonne," I say, smiling queasily.

"I saw her leaving," Enid says. "How'd she get the gun? Thought we weren't clocking them out at the moment."

"It's our secret weapon," I tell her.

"Secret weapon?"

"Michonne got me to hide it in our chimney the other day. In case the Saviors decide to kill more of us when they come next week."

"Why's it secret?"

"She didn't think my dad would agree."

"Would he?"

"Probably not." I sniff the air. "You smell weird."

"It's cinnamon."

I laugh for the first time in three days.

"Why do you smell like cinnamon?"

Enid shrugs. "I dropped a tin of cinnamon on my head this morning."

"Fair enough."

"Do you like it?"

"I can't really smell it."

She pushes her head down until her long brown hair is against my nose.

I breathe in.

She pulls back.

"Well?" She asks with a deadpan look.

I give her a shrug that I learned from her. It's the one she does when she likes the question but hates that you need an answer because you should already have worked it out. Enid nods at my shrug, understanding it.

"I miss Mikey," she tells me.

"Me, too," I tell her.

"I miss Rhys," I say.

"Me, too."

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

We hear the gate shudder as something hits it across Alexandria.

"LITTLE PIG, LITTLE PIG! LET! ME! IN!"

I recognise the voice, pushing off Enid and grabbing for my hat and shoes that I took off.

Enid doesn't recognise it.

"What the hell?" she squints towards the shout.

"It's them," I tell her as she helps me down from the gazebo, following after me. "It's Negan."

"Hot diggity dog!" Negan yells as he strolls through the main gate after dad opens it for him and his Saviors. Rosita and Spencer are sitting in a car by the gate with the engine running, looking like they were about to leave on a run before the party of bandits arrived at our door. Enid and I watch from across the lake.

"This place is magnificent! An embarrassment of riches, as they say. Yes, sir, I do believe you are gonna have plenty to offer up."

Dad's holding Lucille at Negan's request, watching Negan gush over Alexandria. There are dozens of Saviors just outside the open gate. I see Daryl, dressed in rags with an orange 'A' spray-painted across his chest. His face is black and blue. Negan yells at dad when he tries to talk to him.

"They're here for our stuff," I whisper to Enid. "That means they'll hit your place and the infirmary first."

"So?"

"We can't just let them take whatever," I growl. "Judith's with Anna... they shouldn't look there."

"Carl, we can't stop..."

"Go home... make sure Olivia's okay."

"Where are you going?"

"Rosita's going on a run... means someone needs to protect the infirmary."

Negan addresses one of his people, calling her Arat — A woman with curly black hair and blonde highlights held up in a messy bun holding a shotgun.

"You heard the man," she barks, looking around at the rest of them. "Move out!"

"Carl..."

"Go!" I shout, already running.

I see Gabriel on my way to the infirmary. I stop to warn him about the Saviors, and he gets this look on his face like he just finished eating a lemon.

"Shit," he hisses.

I'm shocked to hear him cuss, but before I can speak he grabs a shovel from his porch and runs towards the graveyard.

When I get to the infirmary, Saviors are already inside.

One's a taller guy with a loose-fitting top. The other is a short slimy-looking guy with a receding hairline of dark curls despite looking fairly young.

"Shit, one of you finally decide to help?" the tall one asks, shoving a milk crate filled with all our painkillers into my arms. "Couldn't you have asked someone less ugly, Davey?"

"This isn't fair," I bark at them, putting the crate down on an infirmary bed. "You get half."

"Jesus," the shorter guy gasps, turning around and sees me. "You're not wrong, man, but I saw a chick with no arm on our way in... maybe they're all cripples?"

"You can't take—" I try as both ignore me. They scoop IVs into a duffel bag, knocking over a vase that I'm pretty sure Denise made for Tara.

"He's not too bad, I guess," the one called Davey says, reaching out to touch my face, grinning when I flick his hand away. "I've seen worse."

My cheeks are hot, and they keep laughing at me when I try to yell at them. I want to say something clever, knowing Rhys could if he was here. I realise that's what I need to do... dig deep and find my inner Rhys.

"Listen, fuckface," I growl at Davey. "If you don't put that shit back, I'll send you retreating further than your hairline."

"Oh, shit," the taller guy howls with laughter at his buddy. "He got your ass there!"

Davey grimaces before picking up the crate of medicine and heading to the door.

I pull my gun on him.

"Put it back."

"Kid," Davey sneers. "You sure you know how to use that piece?"

I point it at his face, and he flinches.

"Probably not even loade—"

I fire a round into the cabinet they just emptied. Glass shatters and sprays across the floor. They both shit their pants. Then they both go silent.

The tall guy puts his hands up. "Listen, man, this won't end well—"

"Shut up!" I yell. "Put it back."

"Kid..." Davey chuckles. "What do you think do you think happens next?"

"You die," I tell him.

Dad runs in behind me.

"Carl. Carl, put it down," Dad stutters, glancing between me and Negan after the latter comes sauntering in behind him.

"No," I tell him. "He's taking all of our medicine. They said only half our stuff!"

Negan strolls up beside me, kissing the air at me. "Of course!" He smirks. "Oh-ho... really, kid?"

"You should go," I tell him. "Before you find out how dangerous we all are."

Negan's mouth hangs open like a parent hearing their kid curse for the first time. A weird look of twisted pride on his lined face.

"Well, pardon me, young man. Excuse the shit out of my goddamn, motherfucking French, but... did you just fucking threaten me?"

I keep the gun on Davey.

"Look," Negan says, grinning. "I get threatening Davey here, but I can't have it. Not him. Most fucking certainly not me."

"Carl, just put it down," Dad tries, looking very small next to Negan, despite being the one holding the bat.

"Don't be rude, Rick!" Negan twists to face him, holding up a gloved hand. "We are having a conversation here."

I squint at him, my heart going a thousand miles a minute.

"Now, boy," Negan turns back my way, "where were we? Oh yeah... your giant, man-sized balls! No threatening us. Listen, I like you, so I don't want to go hard proving a point here. You don't want that. I said half your shit, and half is what I say it is."

I stay still, keeping the gun up, my eye flickering between the Saviors.

"I'm serious," Negan whispers, glaring me down to the floor. "Do you want me to prove how fucking serious? Again? I mean, I just domed that ginger the other day. But I'll do it again."

I remember how Maggie screamed. How everyone cried. How he won.

I drop my arm, a pit in my stomach.

Dad takes the gun from me. Negan takes it from him.

"You know, Rick..." Negan chuckles, looking my gun over. "This whole thing reminds me that you have a whole shit load of guns. There's all the guns you took from my outpost when you wasted all my people with a fuck-ton of your own guns, and I'm bettin' there's even more— which adds up to an absolute... ass-load of guns. And as this little emotional outburst just made crystal clear... I can't allow that."

Dad looks at me.

That pit in my stomach swallows me. Only, it doesn't, and I have to stand here with my shame.

Negan grins with every tooth before running his tongue along them and saying, "They're all mine now. So tell me, Rick... where are my guns?"

Negan then orders me to stay and help clear out the infirmary. I watch as the two Saviors load up everything the infirmary has, leaving nothing but a few boxes of aspirin.

I go to stand in the street with everyone else, watching the Saviors raid every building, tossing furniture out of windows and treading over freshly planted vegetables from the Hilltop.

Aaron and Eric are beside me, watching two female Saviors carry their bed into the street, loading it into a truck. Enid's here, too.

"I couldn't stop them," she tells me.

"Me neither."

"They're not touching our food," she tells me like it's good news. I guess it is. "The guns, though..."

"That's my fault," I whisper, looking at my feet.

Enid shakes her head at me. "I heard that girl with the dyed hair. Arat. She said they were taking them all anyway."

"We just have to get through this," Aaron says.

Eric shakes his head. "There's so many of them..."

"There's more," I tell him.

Then there's a gunshot. Enid and Eric jump. Aaron and I search desperately on the spot for anyone hurt.

It came from the armoury.

Negan and Dad are standing across the street, Enid and Olivia's kitchen window shot out above them. Negan's holding a smoking desert eagle laughing about how good it sounds.

Every broken window, every shot, every scream. Any of it could be the next person dead. The coin is in the air, and we're all waiting for it to drop.

One of the Saviors carries Abraham's RPG out of the armoury.

"Well, ho-ly smokes... look at this!" Negan takes it, doing a little dance in excitement as he points the unloaded rocket launcher at dad. "It was you guys that took out little Timmy and the dick brigade? Wow, Rick! Gettin' in your last licks. Ooh, man, I'm gonna have some fun with this!"

Arat drags Olivia out of the armoury by the arm then. I hear Enid gasp beside me.

"Arat, we don't do that unless they do somethin' to deserve it," Negan warns, scowling at her.

She hands him the armoury inventory book from under her arm. "They're short... Glock nine and a twenty-two Bobcat."

Negan's face gets long and stony as he stares at Olivia. "Is that true?"

"We had some people leave town," Dad tells him. "Those guns probably went with them."

"So Olivia sucks at her job? Is that what you're sayin', Rick?"

"No. No, I'm not saying that—"

"There should be a full accounting here, right?" Negan barks over him. "Top to bottom. Am I right?"

"No," Olivia squeaks. "I mean— yes. The inventory's correct, but—"

"Good," Negan purrs, strutting up to her. "But not so good, too. Ya see, what's in this book... isn't in the armoury. You're two handguns short. And you don't know where they are? I mean, that's disappointing... I thought we had an understanding, but this— well, this shows that someone's not on board, and I can't fucking have that. I don't enjoy killing women. Men— I can waste them all the live long. But at the end of the day, Olivia, my dear, this was your fuckin' responsibility."

Olivia starts to cry.

Enid's shaking.

"Look, we can work this out," Dad says slowly with his eyes on Negan's boots.

"Oh, yes, we can!" Negan chimes. "And I'm going to— right now. This was your job, Olivia... and you screwed the fuck up. Keeping track of guns? That shit... is life and death."

Dad calls a meeting in the church. Negan decides to let us have it without supervision. Lucille sits on the altar, though, watching over us. We haven't got long.

"I thought about hiding some of the guns," Dad tells everyone. All of Alexandria is here. "I did it before. I figured I could bury some out there. Maybe we don't touch them for years."

"Years?" Tobin pipes up.

"Yeah, that's right," Dad nods to him. "But what if the Saviors find those guns? What if we run into them when we have those guns on us? One of us dies."

Dad walks down the aisle, looking at me as he passes.

"Maybe more than that," he goes on. "Maybe a lot more. Doesn't matter how many bullets we have. It isn't enough. They win. It's that black-and-white. Hiding a couple of guns isn't the answer, not anymore. We don't have to like it, but we need to give them over."

Dad sighs.

"There's a Glock nine and a twenty-two. That's what they're looking for. Who has it?"

No one speaks up.

"Someone knows where they are... or they know who does. If we don't find 'em, they're gonna kill Olivia. They'll do it."

Scott stands up.

"Why do they care?" he asks. "Two guns aren't a threat to them. But those guns could help protect us from whatever else is out there."

Dad looks like he agrees, but he still asks. "Do you have 'em?"

"Wish I did," Scotts says, sitting back down. "What about Rhys and Carol?"

Dad shakes his head. "They only took their own that night. I already checked with Olivia."

A few people look at me. I stare at my knees.

"Most of you weren't there," Dad says. "You didn't have to watch what Negan did. You can look away now when someone else dies, or you can help solve this. We give them what they want, and we live in peace."

I hear Eric and Aaron muttering between themselves behind me.

"Don't," Aaron warns his husband. "Now is not the time."

"It is," Eric hisses. Before anything else is said, I hear him stand up. "Say we find the guns. How are we gonna get out of this, Rick?"

Dad's eyes are misty and unfocused when he answers. "There is no way out of this. Let me put this to all of you as clearly as I can."

Don't say it, Dad.

"I'm not in charge anymore."

Please.

"Negan is."

I sink.

"Now, who has the guns?"

Eugene glances around. "Not everyone's here," he says.

Dad finds the guns just in time. Negan had started to dramatically count down from one hundred. Olivia was sobbing as she sat with him in her garden, Negan sipping on a glass of lemonade he forced her to make for him.

The two handguns were under the floorboards in Spencer's house.

Negan was delighted to see them.

"Well, would you look at that? They were here after all! Funny how a little holy shit! Somebody's gonna fucking die! lights a fire under everybody's ass!"

I'm sitting on our porch feeling lonely. Judith's still with Anne and Barbara, who are keeping all the kids in the church since the Saviors aren't interested in high ceilings or congregations.

Arat and Davey storm into 99 next door. I jump up, telling them no one lives there anymore. Maggie and Rhys are gone. Glenn is, too. I don't mention Rosita.

They don't care.

I follow them in. A few other Saviors, too.

They take Glenn and Maggie's bed. I try standing in front of Rhys' door, but Arat pushes me aside.

"This your room?" she asks, shotgun over her shoulder. "Thought you said no one lived here."

"They don't— I don't. It's not—" I stutter.

"I really don't give a shit, kid," she tells me, going through Rhys' desk draws and his dresser.

Davey finds Rhys' guitar beside his open window.

"Nice," he grins, holding it above his head. "I've always wanted to smash one of these."

"Don't!" I scream.

"Woah," he laughs. "Don't what?"

"Don't break it," I say slowly.

"Nah, kid. You are missin' that magic word from those pretty lips."

I burn with the urge to tell him to fuck himself, to go fuck himself and die. But I'm staring at the guitar as he hovers it above his head.

"Please..." I finally say, humiliated.

"Please, what?" he asks.

"Please don't break the guitar. Please."

He tosses it at me, and I manage to catch it.

"That wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

I hang my head, feeling sick. "No."

They leave. Taking most of Rhys' notebooks. All his music. But I hold onto the guitar tight.

When I hear them leave the house, I stash the guitar at the back of Rhys' closet and follow the Saviors out.

Davey's stopping Enid in the street.

"What's in your pocket?" he grabs her arm.

"Nothing," she hisses, shoving him back.

Dad and Gabriel appear next to me as we all watch. We can't do anything.

"I saw you take somethin' from that truck," Davey barks. "Show me, girly."

My skin goes cold and tries crawling off my body. I fold my arms.

She rifles through her pocket, pulling out a handful of luminous green balloons.

"You going to a party, little girl?" Davey snatches them up.

"Can I keep them," Enid asks him through gritted teeth. "Please."

Davey holds them tight.

"It's just..." Enid looks away, sniffling and blinking a bunch. "Let me keep them."

Davey gets in her face. "Say please again, little girl."

She leans back. "Please."

He strokes her cheek with a fat finger. "Yeah. One more time."

"Please," she gasps, grimacing.

He drops the balloons at her feet before pointing the same finger in her face. "Be careful, little girl."

I look at dad.

"They'll be gone soon," he tells me, shame and sadness riddling his red eyes.

We stand by the gate and watch all Negan's trucks drive out with our stuff.

Negan's one of the last to leave. Daryl and Dwight are with him.

Rosita gets back with Spencer just in time. They've got the eagle marked run truck with them. They unload Daryl's bike, and Dwight rides off on it. Michonne gets back, too. Negan takes a deer that she hunted, and then he takes our secret gun. Dad asks if Daryl can stay, but Negan just asks Daryl to beg for it, which he doesn't, so Negan laughs in Dad's face.

"So, nobody died," Negan cheers. "Do you want me to go now, Rick?"

Dad glances down at Lucille, still in his loose grip. "I think that would be good."

"Then just say those two magical words."

"Thank you."

Negan giggles at him. "Don't be ridiculous. Thank you!"

Dad's face scrunches up as his knuckles turn white around Lucille's neck.

"Let's move out," Negan calls. The last of the Saviors and Daryl climb into trucks as Negan takes Lucille back from dad. "Thank you for being so accommodating, friend."

Then Negan leans up against Dad, and I think I might be the only other person that hears what he whispers.

"In case you haven't caught on... I just slipped my dick down your throat, and you thanked me for it."

I go back to 101 without speaking to anybody. I find the photo of mom, dad, and me smashed from its frame on the living room floor. I pick it up, holding it close to my chest with my eyes scrunched shut. Michonne walks in behind me. I can feel her stare burning the back of my head.

"Were you out there to get that deer?" I ask, going to sit on the sofa, only realising that they're both gone. The Saviors took those too. I stand where they used to be.

"No." Michonne is honest with me. "I was practising."

"You wanted to shoot Negan?"

"I still do."

"We should give next door to Rosita," I say quickly, not looking her way.

"Carl..."

"It's a big house. No point leaving it empty."

"It's still their house..."

"Glenn's gone. Maggie, too. Rhys..."

"—Is coming back. Maggie will, too."

"Michonne, he's not..."

"He would have found Tara and Heath... like he wrote in his letter."

I shake my head. "Morgan would've come back by now then."

"You don't know that."

"Rhys is dead. Morgan's dead. Carol, Maggie, Mikey, Sasha. They're all probably dead, too."

Michonne walks up to me, turning me by the shoulders and pulling me into her. She holds me tight and I start to cry. She's crying, too.

"Sorry, you lost your secret weapon," I mumble into her.

"It's okay," she whispers into the top of my head, kissing me there quietly.

Dad walks in.

"Carl... you wanna get some sleeping bags from the closet? They took our mattresses— most of them."

Michonne slowly breaks away from the hug, leaving me feeling stranded. I walk up the stairs but sit at the top and listen.

"That rifle was one of theirs from the outpost," she tells dad, "They didn't have a list?"

"No," dad sighs.

"We could've hidden more," Michonne tells him, sounding angry behind her trembling voice.

"Did you?" Dad asks.

There's a long pause.

"No."

I hear one of them walk across the living room.

"Everything we have, we got from fighting."

"I made a choice," dad hisses. "There aren't enough of us. It's about numbers."

"There's the Hilltop."

"They'd still have the numbers. We play by their rules, and we get some kind of life."

"What kind of a life?" Michonne barks.

I pull my knees into my chest and hug them tight.

"You know, I had a friend," Dad starts clearing his throat when his voice breaks. "I don't talk about him. He was my partner."

I shake my head when it fills with memories of Shane.

"He got Lori and Carl to safety right after it all started."

I remember that night. The bombs fell, the city burned bright with hellish flames, and I was told my dad was dead.

"My friend... well, him and Lori... they were together. They thought I was dead. I know Judith isn't mine. I know it. I love her, and she's my daughter, but she isn't mine. I had to accept that... I did. So I could keep her alive. I'll die before she does, and I hope that's a long time from now so I can raise her and protect her and teach her how to survive. This is how we live now. I had to accept that, too, so I could keep everyone else alive."

"It's not your fault when people die," Michonne says softly.

"Not always, but sometimes— sometimes it is. You have to accept this. All of us do— or it won't work."

"I'm gonna try."

I look for Enid later, and when I find her, we're back on the gazebo roof, sitting back to back this time.

"Did they take Rhys' stuff?" Enid asks me, her eyes to the sky as she leans her head back on my shoulder. I'm doing the same on hers.

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"They let me keep his guitar."

"How come?"

I go very quiet. My face gets warm again, and my eye starts to water as embarrassment sits heavy in my chest.

"It was the same guy that had your balloons," I say. "He made me say please."

Enid's quiet, too.

I like to imagine planes when I look up at the sky like this. Their pale streaks across the white and blue. I wish I could be on one, away from here.

"Did you want to keep it because he's dead or because he's alive?" Enid asks me.

"Why does it matter? I just didn't want them to have it."

"I kept the balloons because of Glenn. Because he's dead."

A/N

Quick heads up: I'm going to Holland for a week on holiday! Very excited, but I don't get back until next Tuesday, so if there is a delay on next chapter, it should be out on Wednesday or Thursday. I'm taking my laptop, though... so fingers crossed I get it up for the normal time.

Next Time: Chapter 104- Go Getters: Green for Release.