"Vanessa!" Carol shouts as my hand lands on the door that leads into the trailer I camped out in earlier. I peer over my shoulder, watching her approach, curious about what she could want. We haven't had a lot of together. I realize, I haven't had time with anyone I was once close with. War and Negan has been keeping us on our toes. It doesn't help that each of us have been holding tight to each of our personal vendettas against the man in the leather jacket. "Here. I washed these while you were busy." She gestures to the clothes I had arrived in.
"Thank you." I smile, taking them into my arms. "You didn't have to."
She grins, "can't imagine you fighting in Jesus pants. You look ridiculous." Her face twists in false disgust.
I chuckle at her statement. She's not wrong. "I feel ridiculous, but I'm keeping the shirt." I share a laugh with the older woman. "They are too tight. I feel like it's cutting off circulation around my waist." I pull at the hem of the jeans, wincing.
Her eyes travel to my stomach, pursing her lips in concentration. "I'll tell Daryl to keep an eye out for bigger clothes. This might be the last time you can wear your pants."
What? Already? My mouth falls open as she struts off towards the Barrington house. I shake my head; is she finally going senile? I mean this world is enough to drive anyone insane.
I step inside the trailer, stripping off Jesus pants. I pull on my leather pants, sighing contently. So much fucking better, I muse. I glance down at my stomach as I struggle with the button, growling in frustration. My fingers poke the skin, feeling like I'm bloated. I make a mental note to start searching out bigger clothes, regardless of Carol's request for Daryl when he returns. I heard rumors that you can start showing sooner in your second pregnancy, but this is entirely too early. I set that concern aside as I wrap the harness around my waist.
Jesus' pants were entirely too tight. Mister skinny flat ass and I should not be sharing clothes. After pulling on my boots and returning my weapons to their homes along my body, I search for a moment, scribbling a little love note for the man with long hair that gave me hell once upon a time.
Thanks for the pants and shirt. You can have the pants back; super uncomfortable. But the shirts mine. I already cut it up to fit my frame. Sucks to suck. I'm taking it as payment for almost being the death of me twice. We aren't even, yet. When this is over, we are sparring so I can beat your ass, again.
Lilith.
Ps, wish you were here for this fight. Would've been fun to kick savior's ass by your side, again.
I grab a hair tie I discovered on my search. I run a brush through my hair before I braid it passed my shoulders, hanging along my upper back. I wrap Daryl's bandanna around my hairline, keeping any fly aways from dancing into my line of sight. I don't know what they have planned, and I don't need it blocking my view. I have a feeling I'm going to need to stay on my toes. Unease slithers up my spine; I have an idea that it's absolutely horrendous. Negan is starting to realize that we aren't easily broken; he's probably pulling out the big guns, whatever that may be. What can be bigger than blowing up fucking Alexandria? Setting walkers loose on Hilltop? Killing a young member of the Kingdom? Taking my fucking husband from me and killing two of my closest friends in such a brutal inhumane way?
I wrap my belt full of knives around my waist as I finish getting ready to wage war another fucking time. I lower myself down onto the bed to give myself a moment of peace before I step out of the trailer to face whatever is waiting for me tonight. I groan, resting my head in my hands. I can't deny that I'm in absolute pain, but I'm trying to talk my body into taking on one more battle. Will it be the last? Probably not. Something tells me that this is far from over, but we need to defend Hilltop. We have to make a stand. I just hope it's without lots of causalities. I'm tired of burying my friends and family.
But you'll never stop fighting to live another day, the cynical voice reminds me harshly.
Finding my fragile and tired resolve, I stand, heading for the door.
Tori greets me as I stalk out of the trailer, she smiles at the sight of my appearance. "Ready?" She inquires. "Jerry gave the signal. Mags is waiting for you." I sigh, it's almost show time.
"Always." I grin at Jamie lurking over her shoulder. I step towards him, pulling him into a hug. "It's good to see you. Sorry I've been missing, kiddo. How are you doing?"
"I'm okay. They are coming, aren't they?" A frown etches into his innocent face. I'm taken aback as I see the stark contrast between him and Carl. I search his face; Carl was once this scared until he didn't have a choice to be anything, but the warrior he was when he died. Jamie will find his inner strength; I just hope he won't suffer the same fate.
I peer over my shoulder, "you're sitting this one out, Tor. Stay with him and Judith this time. I assume the kids are hiding in the main house?" She nods, accepting my demand. I return my focus on the boy, "Tori will keep you safe. I'll be fighting with everyone else, making sure they can't hurt you." I press a kiss atop his head. "I'll die before they hurt you, okay?"
His arms wrap around my stomach, pulling me close. "Don't die. When I'm older, I'll protect you and Tori, okay?"
My eyes widen at his statement, as I'm left speechless. He lets go, walking towards the house with Tori at his side. Tori wraps her arms around his shoulders on their trek, keeping him close. When the shock wears off, I shake my head, smirking. That kid is going to be something fierce when he's ready. But I'll protect him as long as I can. I know I'll have to start sitting in the back seat of the fights once I get deeper into my pregnancy, but I'm not ready. Maybe in the second trimester. Maybe, just maybe.
Maggie meets me at the porch, nodding as I approach. "I know you've been fighting for a long time, but I need you at my side. Daryl and Rick aren't here." She declares. I cock my head, observing her beautiful face. Stress dances on her face, but something dark lurks right underneath it. What did you do?
"You got it." I offer, deciding I don't want to know.
I lean my back against the railing, beginning to sharpen the blades of my swords, ticking off the minutes, not caring of the silence descending between the two of us. Since I had my hand in Glenn's death, we aren't close as we once were. She claims to not blame me or hold any malice towards me and my husband, but I do, and I know he does, too.
In the corner of my eye, I spot Maggie watching me. "What?" I ask without glancing at her.
"Daryl told me you're his wife now." I nod, keeping my eyes trained on the swords in my hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"
I sigh, "Mags, it was in the middle of this," I gesture to the people gearing up, ready to make a stand against the Saviors for the second time in just a few days. "It was at the Kingdom right after we just got reunited. After..." I trail off, swallowing the lump, "you just lost Glenn. I'm not going to put that on you. It didn't feel right."
She shakes her head, "I'm still happy for you, regardless. You deserve each other." She places her hand along my shoulder. I glance up at the brick wall in front of me, trying to keep my emotions at bay. The saviors will be here anytime, and I can't be a mess.
"Thank you," I whisper. Noise from outside the gates drags my attention over my shoulder. I listen as several feet begin to kiss to the ground. I lock eyes with Maggie. "Show time," I whisper. She nods, taking out the radio while I replace one of my blades with a gun. Now, I have a sword in my right hand and pistol in the left hand.
I eye my friend as she breathes into the walkie talkie, "Negan. I want to talk to Negan."
A familiar voice dances into the air. "Well, hello there. You are speaking to Negan, but my birth certificate says 'Simon.' With whom do I have the distinct displeasure of speaking?" Ah, Simon. I never liked him. Regardless of him saving my life and taking the file without complaint, but like Shane, something isn't right about him. There's a monster waiting to strike just under his flesh. It says a lot that I feel like I can trust Negan a lot more than I can trust the snake on the radio. I make a disgusted click of my tongue, feeling gross knowing he's the one we are facing off against. I remember Carol saying Gavin is down. I might not be able to kill Negan, but I will kill everyone he trusts. It's a harsher punishment than death. Andrea said it best, no one can survive being alone in this world.
"Maggie. Maggie Rhee. The Widow. Before you decide to attack, you should know, The Reaper is standing at my side, waiting for me to give the signal." I cock my head. That wasn't the plan. Not that I'm aware of. I shake my head, smirking. Whatever, I'll run with it.
"Well, then. Hello again, Widow Rhee, and Reaper Dixon. Right? She's married to the redneck with a permanent scowl, right? You'd send her, risking her, knowing she's pregnant. That's not very friend like, Maggie Rhee. Allow me to offer my condolences. For what's happened and what's about to happen. In case it's not already plain as Hilltop potatoes, yours truly is speaking on behalf of Negan this go 'round. And I assure you that the man himself personally received your care package next day delivery. I noticed it was the box that I gave you in good faith." My eyes widen at Maggie. Okay, yeah, I need to know what the hell she did. She shrugs, lips etching a frown into her beautiful face. "Tricks on me. But the bill's come due, and you and your people are gonna have to pay. Quite dearly, I'm afraid."
I spin on my heels as the prisoners file out of the house, beginning to mile around the porch. I press my back against Maggie, keeping my pistol trained on a savior with long brown hair. He watches curiously before a grin filled with malice breaks out along his creepy face. I aim my pistol at Gregory out of sheer annoyance. I smile, allowing the venom and promise of violence break out along my face when his eyes meet mine. Let's go, perv, I'm dying to inflict some damage to him.
"Your people are alive and breathing. Turn around and leave us be, and they stay that way. But if you don't, I have bullets that I will personally fire into all thirty-eight." Maggie demands.
She steps to the man to my left. He has curly brown hair and a friendly face. But I don't allow it to fool me. Some of the scariest monsters have friendly faces they like to hide behind. "It's too nice a night to spend it dyin' slow, don't you think, Simon?" He speaks into the radio, eying Maggie and me.
Maggie returns the walkie talkie to her mouth, "how's this gonna go? Right now, Vanessa has a sword trained on one of your men. I can have her kill him right now."
"Well, Maggie Rhee, this is highly regrettable, but the way I see it, the Saviors you're in possession of there are damaged goods. You know, they've got themselves into their own pickle, and this organization prizes those who, "A," avoid capture and, "B," figure out their own shit when said outcome eventuates. Which, in the end, is my way of saying screw them." I scowl hearing Simon's words. People aren't fucking goods, the fuck. Maybe he truly is worse than Negan. "Let her have her fun."
"Did you really think that cockamamie play would work?" Gregory inquires. Growling, I drag the hilt back, smacking him across the face with it. He clutches his face in shock.
"Shut up, asshole." I sneer. "Give me a reason to kill you. I'm dying to kill you as much as I want Negan's blood." His eyes widen, fear dances on his older face. He's only alive because, for some god-awful reason, Maggie wants him to be. Even after his betrayal and display of cowardice.
"It will," Maggie quietly answers, unsurprised by my outburst.
I peer over my shoulder as the sound of a bike and gunshots fill the air. I smile, my husband decided to join us after all. I watch as he pulls into the community with Negan's men driving up behind him. The bus pulls forward, stopping them from attacking us behind the wheel. They begin to pile out of the cars.
"Now!" Maggie shouts. "You wait." She whispers to me. I nod, observing our family and friends stand in position, lead flying through the air towards the prick brigade. I tick of the seconds, dying for her to let me go fight alongside our friends.
"Fuck it!" I snarl, running, leaping over the railing, ducking as arrows pierce the air. I crawl towards the King and Carol, letting the bullets fly out of my pistol. Swearing as it starts clicking. I put my back against the car, placing my pistol in its holder. I begin to stand when Ezkiel grabs my shirt. I turn, seeing the gift in his grip. He hands over his extra rile, smiling at me as I take it graciously.
As I start to run headfirst into the fight, I watch in horror as a savior rounds a corner to a fence, stabbing Tobin in the stomach. I run over, thrusting my sword through his skull. My eyes travel to the man from Alexandria as the body of the prick thuds to the ground at my feet.
I lower myself down so I can assess the damage.
"Just go!" He yells, "I'll be fine! They need you out there!"
I chew on my lip, before taking off back into the fight. I pass Carol while I take my leave from our friend's side. Daryl's shouts catch my attention. I spot him trying to warn Tara. I barrel over, trying to get to her in time. I stab the saviors that fall into my path. I growl watching her fall to the ground, clutching her shoulder. I peddle backwards as Simon steps in front of me, grinning. I slash my sword at his annoying head. He dances out of the way of my blade. He thrusts a knife towards my stomach. I jump back, feigning right as I dive into his chest. I land on top of him, letting the rile hang at my side as we grapple on the ground. I get a few punches in when Simon raises his knife to my stomach. Before I could react, Dwight grabs me, throwing me through the air.
Swearing and groaning as my head hits a rock when I land. I clutch my skull, feeling something wet seeping out of my flesh, spotting blood on my hands when I pull it back. I glance around, losing sight of both men. "Fuck!" I snarl.
"Vanessa, its time. Maggie gave the signal." Rosita growls, appearing to stand over me. She offers her hand, helping me stand.
I pull back into the shadows, making sure everyone got into position and no one got left behind, against Maggie's orders, watching the saviors. Frustrated that I can't hear what Simon is saying. I stalk through the darkness as they begin to threateningly descend upon the Barrington House while their annoying whistle dances on the air.
"Blue," a whisper fills the space next to me, grabbing me, rooting me in place. "Stay with me." I crane my neck, seeing Daryl with Charlee and Wren to his right. He brings his finger to his mouth. I nod, gripping my rifle as we stand side by side. I wait with bated breath as the lights flash on near the main house, lead and gun fire fill the air. I watch as they pull back, running right into Rick and company's trap. Rick finally crashed the party, making one hell of an entrance. They scurry away a second time, falling into mine and my husband's trap. Light shines behinds us, blinding the saviors, we run forward together, mowing them down. We don't break rank.
When the rifle begins to click, I throw it to the side. In one fluid motion, I drag out my swords, brandishing and slashing at any poor unsuspecting savior that falls into mine and the redneck's path.
Daryl grabs me, making me stay back as Rick and Maggie chase them out of the gates and out of Hilltop. He drags me close, as I pant against his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulder, resting his head atop of mine, not making any comments about the blood pouring of my skull.
We did it. Again. We stood our ground, and they fled. Again.
For now.