"Call it out."

Rick's voice crackles over the radio on Maggie's hip as we push out of the forest in our grid and onto a muddy track on the south side of the camp.

"Grid one— clear so far!" That's Jerry and Rosita.

Carol and Daryl go next. "Grid two's clear."

"Three is clear," Rick says.

Maggie pauses our walk to take the walkie off her belt and respond.

"Grid four is clear."

I hold my eyes on the trees to our side, keeping my head on a swivel thanks to my lousy ear making it difficult to tell if a walker or anyone else might sneak up on us. We wait for the radio to speak one more time.

"Grid five, clear."

Once Arat and Beatrice give the final all-clear, Maggie and I go on, the mud from all the recent rain thick under our boots. Rick keeps talking to people over the radio.

"Piper One, anything up top?"

"We're good. Nothing moving our way."

"Stay sharp, eyes open. We still got missin' people out here."

"I heard you let Earl out of his cell," I say to fill the silence that comes after Rick's voice.

Maggie nods. "We had to get the plough fixed, and—"

"I get it," I say. "I do. But why didn't you do what you did to Gregory?"

"I ever tell you my daddy drank?"

"Hershel?" I ask. "Yeah, I think you've mentioned it."

Maggie nods. "Gave it up the day I was born, though. Wouldn't allow so much as a drop in the house. He only got to that point because my momma gave him a second chance."

"I get it," I smile at her. "If he didn't get a second chance, a ton of people wouldn't have made it."

Maggie nods. "We need that plough, and Earl's a good blacksmith. He's a good man that needs a chance to prove it."

We both stop; mud squelches under our boots. Two walkers are ahead of us, making their way into the woods after a faint banging sound in the distance.

"Got activity nearby," Maggie reports to the radio. "Gonna go check it out."

Rick crackles back. "We're headed your way. Grid five, do the same."

We follow the walkers to a dirty, white-panelled house, with boarded windows and unchecked vines growing up its exposed brick chimney. Caught on the porch roof, a piece of sheet metal is swinging in the wind and clattering against one of the house's rotted wood walls. A group of walkers is gathered under the sound with their arms reaching up.

We duck behind a burnt-out pickup truck parked beside an old fuel pump in the overgrown grass that surrounds us. The driver isn't much more than crispy black bones fused in his seat.

"Six of them," I whisper after a quick headcount.

"Okay," Maggie says. "We gotta take it out before it draws more."

"I'll follow your lead," I say. "Unless you want to wait for backup."

Maggie smirks, rolling up the denim sleeves of her light blue flannel.

"Pfft... we got this," she says, smirking at me. "You get the roof. I'll get them."

She grabs a pitchfork from the back of the pickup and wades through the overgrown grass to the far side of the walkers before calling out to them.

"Over here! C'mon! That's right!"

I make my way towards the house and one walker that apparently finds the metal on the roof more interesting than Maggie as she lures the others away.

"Hey, beautiful," I call to it.

The walker snarls, turning sluggishly on the spot to growl through rotten teeth and holey cheeks.

"Oof," I grimace. "Never mind."

I drive my spear through his head, letting him drop and vanish into the grass.

I try stretching for the metal with my spear, but even on tippy-toes, stood on the walkers back, I can't reach it.

I make my way around the house, watching as Maggie stabs the last of her walkers up through its chin with her pitchfork. I climb the creaky wooden steps onto the porch. The front door is boarded shut like the windows. Dozens of fingers are poking through the gaps and wiggling at me.

I ignore the trapped walkers and make my way along the porch towards the metal sheet dangling into sight from the roof, but the ancient floor suddenly cracks and splinters under my feet. My leg goes straight through; I drop down hard onto my hands with a painful thud.

"Rhys!" Maggie yells.

I turn off my stomach, palms stinging, and see the boards on the door I passed start to bend and snap as the walkers try harder for their trapped prey. They all tumble out on top of each other just as I manage to pull my leg free and crawl across the porch to my spear.

Maggie sprints to me, jumping on the one closest to me and stabbing it through the head. Then she uses one of the walkers to hold the others in the open doorway.

I kill one of the two that are still out on the porch, while Maggie starts stabbing madly at the numerous faces trying to bite her over each other's shoulders.

The last one on the porch lunges on me fast enough that I drop my spear. I push my hand against its neck, and it turns to jelly between my fingers as its teeth get closer. I jam my knee against its chest and shove it back a few paces, pulling Sasha's knife from my belt and hurling it between the walker's eyes.

It falls dead.

Maggie finally kills the last of the ones trapped in the house, letting her walker-shield drop onto the pile she's created in the doorway.

"Fuck," I huff, retrieving my knife and wiping my hand on the walker's shirt at the same time.

"Don't—" Maggie pants between breathes, hands pressed against her knees over the pile of corpses. "Don't— cuss..."

"Sorry, Ma'am," I heave, nodding. "But... we did totally fuck them up."

Maggie shakes her head and chuckles breathlessly. "Shit yeah, we did!"

I don't know if it was the walkers, the almost dying, or the fact I fell on my face. But I start laughing from somewhere deep in my gut, breaking into hysterics.

Maggie looks at my shirt, covered in walker guts and yellow puss. And then she can't help it either.

The other search teams run out of the trees a few seconds later.

"You two all right?" Daryl looks us up and down as we both try to stop laughing.

"Yeah," I nod, wheezing.

"What's so funny?" Rick asks.

"Nothin'," Maggie snorts, shaking her head and waving them off with a lazy hand. "Just nothin'."

Carl looks ready to hug me but stops when I wave at him with my walker-gunked hand.

Managing to calm down at about the same time as Maggie, I pick up my spear and lean over the porch railing to bash the metal sheet off the roof.

"What happened to grid five?" Rosita asks, looking around. "They should've been here before us."

Rick sighs, pulling out his talkie. "Grid five, what's your status?"

Nothing comes back.

"Grid five?"

Nothing.

"Their grid's not far," Carl says, pointing back into the woods.

Daryl nods. "Let's go check it out then."

I end up ditching my flannel in the woods, using the rest of its clean patches to wipe my hand free of walker-gunk.

"You okay?" Carl asks, the eight of us marching through the trees to grid five.

"Tired of losing shirts to this bridge," I grumble.

There's a body face down on the forest floor ahead. It's Beatrice. Carl runs ahead of the rest, checking for a pulse on her neck.

"She's still with us," he sighs with relief.

"Beatrice!" Rick calls, shaking her arm.

She comes to quickly, twisting around to look at us all as she rubs at her head and winces.

"I'll check the perimeter," Maggie says before disappearing behind a wild raspberry bush.

Daryl finds something by my foot. I don't recognise it as Bea's harpoon gun until he pulls it from the leaves and dirt. Daryl looks at it funny.

"You okay?" Rick asks Bea.

She groans, brushing twigs and leaves from her hair. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"What happened?" Rick urges her.

"I— I don't know. Arat called in the all-clear, and we headed towards the road, and then... I think something hit me from behind."

She touches the back of her head again.

"Let me take a look," Rosita points.

"I'm fine," Bea tells her, smiling with a glazed over look in her eyes. "Just a bump."

"And Arat?" Rick asks.

"I don't know," Bea says.

Rick helps her to her feet. Daryl hands her weapon to her.

"Thanks."

Maggie returns, holding a walkie-talkie in one hand and a knife in the other. "Whoever did this took Arat."

When we get back to camp, Saviors are staring at us with uneasy side eyes that I do my best to ignore. Rick sends Rosita to find Sasha before he calls a meeting in his tent, and I try to skip out, but he insists. Carol is in the tent since she's representing Sanctuary now. Cyndie is here, too, since Bea is one of hers. I walk in after the others.

"We need to find her," Rick tells us, fists pushed into the map table that everyone else has gathered around in the middle of the tent. I move to stand between Carl and Maggie.

"Do the Saviors know?" Cyndie asks Carol.

"Not yet," Carol sighs, arms folded over her chest. "They think Arat's on watch through the night. Come morning, they will."

"She could be dead already," Maggie tells her.

"Why take Arat?" I ask. "Justin, I understand. He was an ass. But Arat hasn't caused trouble since the war ended."

"She was one of Negan's top generals," Cyndie says, shrugging. "She's probably hurt a lot of people."

"This might not even be about her," Carl adds. "It could just be about Saviors. Maybe whoever is doing this just wants them all dead."

Carol grimaces. "If we don't figure out what happened, Sanctuary is gone."

Rick's face strains of colour. "If that happens, we won't finish the work before the water rises. We'll lose the bridge."

Jerry slowly raises his hand. "Yo... say we nab the perp. Then what? Who decides what happens next? Is it— is it gonna be a Gregory or a—"

"We can't just lock them up," I cut in. "Sanctuary won't go for it now they know there are other options."

Rick glares at Maggie, and her face turns to jagged rock.

"Well, whoever it is," Cyndie says, putting her hands on her hips, "when the time comes... they'll get what they deserve."

Rick waves a hand at us, casting a shadow on the roof above the dim lantern on the table. "Pair up with someone you trust. We're out there till we find her."

"Yeah, no, I'm done," I tell them quickly.

"What?" Maggie asks, frowning at me.

"I came here to fix a bridge. Not find Saviors."

"Rhys—" Rick sighs. "We need all of us. We can't let anyone else in on this."

"Sasha can take my spot," I tell him.

"I need her on watch tonight."

"I'll take her watch."

Carl touches my elbow. "C'mon, just a few hours."

I take a deep and stubborn breath. Rick glares at me.

"Please?" Carl asks. "Partner up with me."

I sink into my boots. "Fine."

The woods get dark fast, and I feel a chill settle over the trees above us, thick clouds rolling in over our heads. We're on our second sweep of our grid, Carl insisting again that we need to be thorough.

Carl keeps checking around trees with his flashlight like Arat might be hiding behind one.

"Y'know this might be it, right?" I ask him.

"Nah," Carl whispers, smiling at me while shining the light on his face to show it. "The Sanctuary will come around when we find her."

"Sure," I say. "But if we don't find her... it might be over."

Carl stops, his smile faltering a little.

"Dad wants to kill him still," he tells me.

"Your dad's the one that put him in that cell."

"Yeah," Carl says, nodding. "But every day, I see it in his eyes. This look that says he's gonna walk down those steps and end it."

"Why doesn't he?"

"I guess he remembers the reason we're keeping him alive."

I guess that makes sense.

"People still wanting to kill him," Carl sighs. "It's like they're not even trying to make things different."

I shrug, pointing my light up as I watch the stars. "Some things you can't get over."

Carl nods but then changes his mind halfway through it. "You moved on. If you and Maggie can move on..."

I chuckle. "You think we've moved on?"

"Past where you were after the war?" Carl asks. "Yeah, I do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just mean that after the war... I thought Hilltop would cut Alexandria out. Maggie was so angry back then. You were, too..."

"He killed Glenn, Carl."

"I know," Carl says gently.

"Maggie's still angry," I tell him. "I'm still angry. That won't ever change."

"It can."

I stop, turning to face him, flashlight aimed at his chin as not to blind him. Neither of us is angry at the other — just the situation. "I was going to ask you to leave, you know?"

"What?"

"After the war," I tell him. "It started hurting so much... just knowing that he was in that cell... I was going to ask you to leave with me."

"Why didn't you?"

"Maggie was about to have Hershel. Hilltop was hurting. You were trying to keep whatever this is going."

Carl watches me while I find certain words that I buried long ago; In a suitcase under an apple tree on a hill far away, stained glass hanging from its branches.

"Would you go with me now?" I ask.

"What?"

"If I asked."

"Are you asking?"

"I guess."

"Rhys—"

"Carl."

"So it still hurts?"

"Of course it does," I laugh in disbelief. "How do you not get that?"

"Everything we're doing— rebuilding. It's working!"

"That's why we're out here, in the dark, looking for a kidnapped Savior that shot Olivia in the face right in front of you? Because it's working?"

"Obviously not! But how will running away forever help?"

"Not forever... just long enough to forget about all the pain."

"You don't forget," Carl tells me. "You forgive, or you let the hate swallow you."

"I can't forgive him..."

"I thought you forgave Negan! I thought we both agreed he had to live!"

"I agreed for you!" I bark. "I made Maggie see, because you needed me to! Convincing her to let it go— It's the hardest thing I've ever done! This last year, Carl... every time Alexandria comes up in conversation... every time we have to talk about how we punish people that break the rules... every time Maggie looks over our walls for longer than she has to— I remind her why he's breathing! Me. It's my job. Keeping him alive made that my job."

Carl's face softens, his eyebrow arching and his eye wet and blue like rippling waves. "Is that why you haven't left Hilltop? Because you need to be there to keep Maggie—"

"No," I sigh, rubbing my face with my free hand. "I can feel him when I'm there, too. It's like there's some rotten cancer living under the floor. He's down there. Like he's waiting."

"I'm sorry," Carl says. "I didn't realise it was that bad."

I shrug. "You couldn't have known."

"I know, but still."

Carl pulls out the walkie then, raising it to his face.

"What are you—?"

He holds up a finger to shush me.

"This is Grimes and Washburne."

Rick answers. "Go ahead, Carl. You two found anything?"

"No," he says. "Grid three is clear. You and Carol found anything?"

"Jed and D.J. tried takin' our guns, but we dealt with them. Taking them back to the medical tent now."

"But you're okay?"

"We're okay. You boys head on back."

"Copy."

I frown at him. "I thought we were doing a second sweep?"

Carl smiles softly. "We've been out here long enough. C'mon."

Back at camp I sit at the desk in our tent while Carl leaves to find some food. He asked if I want something, but after I heard it's stew for the third night in a row, I decide to decline the offer.

Maggie walks in while I'm attempting to keep my mind occupied with a book on guitar riffs I brought from home.

"Mind if we talk, sweetie?" Maggie asks quietly from the door flap.

I turn around in the desk chair, nodding.

She stands there for a moment, hugging herself and rubbing her arms.

"You okay?" I ask.

She doesn't answer, and a second later, she walks up to the desk and crouches in front of me so we're facing each other.

"I need to tell you something," Maggie says carefully. "But first, do you remember what we talked about after the war ended?"

We talked about a lot of things. But I do know. That meeting in her office. Me, Jesus, and Daryl... with her in her office. She told us Rick was wrong to do what he did. She said we were going to bide our time, wait for our moment... and show him he was wrong. Daryl agreed. Jesus didn't. I remember staying quiet back then.

"I remember," I tell her, nodding.

"Good," she says. "Good."

I watch her emerald-green eyes while they do the same for mine.

"Rhys, I know that you promised Carl you would try it Rick's way."

"I did."

"We have been doing it his way."

"We have."

She breathes deeply. "Baby, we found Arat. It was Cyndie and Beatrice— Oceanside took her."

I wait.

"Daryl and I," she says. "We let them kill her."

I wait.

She pauses, her eyes contemplating.

"I wasn't going to let 'em," she says. "But they told me about Turner... your fight with him. They said they got him. That son of a bitch that took those pictures of—" she stops, her teeth grinding.

I watch her and wait.

Maggie sighs, putting her hand on my knee and squeezing gently. "Baby, Alexandria's way hasn't worked. Rick's way hasn't. I think it's time we do what we need to do."

My hands are shaking in my lap, and I'm being quiet. Maggie takes my hands in hers.

"Honey?"

I look at her with full, round eyes. Eyes that spill tears as I try to keep the shaking in my hands out of my voice.

"I can't..."

Maggie's eyes don't stop looking at mine. She smiles at me. She stands up, pulling my head against her belly, stroking my hair.

She shushes me.

"I'm sorry," I whimper.

Maggie pulls back, her hands holding the sides of my face. Her cold palms sit flat against my damp cheeks.

"Don't you ever be sorry," she tells me.

She waits for me to nod before she kisses my forehead and goes to leave.

She stops halfway out of the tent.

"I love you," she says, smiling.

Then she's gone.

When Carl gets back with a bowl of soup in his hands and two slices of bread clasped between his teeth, I'm still shaking and crying.

He's a whizzing bullet to put everything down on the desk and takes me by the shoulders, inspecting me, maybe looking for bites.

"What's wrong?" he asks when he doesn't find anything on the outside.

I try slumping back in the chair, but Carl keeps me upright by my hunched shoulders.

"I'm so tired, Carl," I mumble, scrunching my fists and rubbing my eyes.

His face is loaded with worry.

I keep spilling muffled tears behind my hand, and I'm sure my face is that of someone who has been bitten.

"We're going tomorrow," Carl says then.

I look up at him through heavy eyelids.

He's nodding. "We're leaving first thing tomorrow."