The rhythmic thudding of a ball against the floor has become an almost comforting daily backdrop, seamlessly blending with the routine as they move about the house.
Madeleine finds herself perched on the couch, surrounded by an array of weapons as she cleans them. With precision, she diligently attends to each one, ensuring they are primed and ready for them to take on the run. On the other side of the room, her father meticulously adjusts his belt, creating a new hole for comfort, weaving the worn leather through the buckle.
Beside them, Daryl occupies a space, hunched over as he diligently crafts arrows. The precision in his movements, the calloused hands working with practiced ease, mirrors the meticulousness of Madeleine's weapon maintenance.
Deciding to momentarily step away, Daryl rises from his seat beside his wife, sharing a nod with Rick, and kissing his wife's temple. Daryl's footsteps resonate as he leaves the house, the echoes blending seamlessly with the ongoing rhythm of their routine.
Michonne peeks through the living room's frame, draped in a robe with her hair secured in a towel. "Do you have any toothpaste left?" she inquires.
Madeleine briefly glances at Michonne before returning her focus to the array of guns. "No, 'cause someone's been borrowing it every day for the past two weeks," Madeleine retorts, a playful edge to her tone that prompts a subtle eye roll from Michonne.
Suddenly, Esperanza sprints into the living room, breathless, and stands beside Michonne with a noticeably annoyed expression. "Did you steal my toothpaste again? I still had a little bit left yesterday."
Michonne, with a nonchalant shrug and a teasing smirk playing on her lips, states, "Listen, that's the thing with toothpaste... we always think there's a little bit still left."
A chuckle escapes Rick as Madeleine's lips curl into an amused smile. She hands one of the guns over to Rick and secures the other on her waist, standing up from the couch. Meanwhile, Esperanza and Michonne engage in a silent standoff, their glares exchanging unspoken accusations.
Esperanza, unable to hold back, points a finger at Michonne's face. "Admit you stole it, like that last bar of chocolate!" The accusatory tone hangs in the air, and the living room becomes a battleground of petty theft accusations. "And the last granola bar."
Michonne raises her hands defensively, "That was Daryl."
Enid casually takes a bite of her apple, strolling into the living room with a skeptical glance at Esperanza. "Why are you in such a mood today? Have you eaten yet?"
Esperanza rolls her eyes, running a hand through her hair as the incessant thumping grows louder. "No, and that noise is driving me nuts!"
"Carl," Michonne calls out, glancing over her shoulder toward the room where Carl is.
"What? Denise says it's PT," Carl replies with a knowing tone, his voice echoing from the adjacent room.
"We can't hear you. Come on out." Rick places a hand on his hip as Freya descends the stairs with a babbling Judith in her arms.
Carl strolls into the living room, nonchalantly holding the ball that has been the source of annoyance for the past few weeks. "What?" he snaps in a bored expression.
"Denise says this is PT," the occupants of the living room state in unison.
Carl tilts his head to the side, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "You heard me."
"Esperanza is losing her mind 'cause of your PT," Madeleine chimes in with an amused smirk as Carl throws the ball over to her, and she effortlessly catches it, placing it inside a drawer. "Behave yourself. I don't want to hear that you or Enid have been outside these walls."
Carl and Enid roll their eyes, sarcasm dripping through their voice. "Sure, mom."
Freya narrows her eyes, noting Esperanza's glare at her brother before turning her attention to Judith. "Isn't your sister moody when she doesn't eat?"
"Hey!"
"The swings are coming along well; soon she'll be able to play on it. Thanks for it, Freya," Rick states with a genuine smile as he approaches his baby daughter and kisses her forehead. "You're good to look after her today?"
Freya nods, her gaze momentarily falling to her watch. "For a few hours, yeah. I have a shift today." Rick acknowledges her words with a nod before Enid settles down on the couch.
She glances at Freya, "I'll take care of her when it's time for your shift."
"Sounds good, I'll see you later," Freya says, taking hold of Judith's hand, waving at them before stepping out to the front porch with the toddler. There, a table is set up with pencils and paper that Madeleine had found for her baby sister, creating a makeshift outdoor art corner.
"Come on, Carls. It's time to change your bandage," Esperanza reminds, a reassuring hand on Carl's shoulder, moving towards the kitchen where the first aid kit awaits to attend to Carl's bandage.
"I still need to borrow some toothpaste," Michonne points out, leaning against the doorframe, her gaze shifting towards Enid. "Do you have any left?"
Enid gives her a knowing look, "I'm out of toothpaste again. You kept borrowing mine as well," She turns toward Madeleine, "Be safe out there. Please, bring me more of that chocolate. It was delicious," she adds with a playful grin, loud enough for Esperanza to hear her from the kitchen.
"I knew it!" They hear Esperanza call back from the kitchen and they share an amused smile.
"Behave yourself, E." Madeleine forms a fist with her hand, playfully bumping Enid before she turns to Michonne. "One more day, Mimi."
"One more day," they dap each other.
Madeleine grabs her sword from the side of the couch, securing it on her back before she walks out of the house. She shuts the door before her eyes land on Freya drawing with Judith. The girl waves at her with a warm smile as Madeleine walks over to her sister, bending down to kiss the top of her head.
"We made this for you; I hope you like it," Freya says with a bright smile, handing over the toddler's artwork. "She said it's a Lily," she explains, the innocence of the gesture tugging at Madeleine's heart.
Madeleine's smile graces her face as she delicately places the drawing in her pocket. "It's beautiful, Jude."
"Ma." The toddler babbles out, holding her tiny arms out and Madeleine gives her a warm hug.
"You have to go with them," Carl interjects, slicing through the short silence that settled while Esperanza tended to his bandages. "Even I managed to get Mads going back on the runs."
Esperanza shakes her head, a mixture of concern and reluctance etched on her face. She avoids meeting Carl's gaze as she sighs, "I don't want to leave you here alone."
"Michonne is here. Even if something happened, she would protect me. I can protect myself, too. Do you really want to be stuck in these walls forever?" He gives Esperanza a knowing look, prompting her to glance down at the ground, grappling with the internal struggle. "You can't stay here forever because of what happened to me. Why do you think Mads is out there? She thinks something bigger is coming our way; we can't just stay stuck behind these walls and do nothing. What happened happened."
"You could've died," Esperanza mutters, her voice barely audible. The weight of fear and concern hangs in the air, and Carl responds by placing a reassuring hand over hers."I just found my family; I don't want to lose any of you."
"You won't. We're stuck for life now," Carl declares, holding out his pinky. Esperanza mirrors the gesture, engaging in a secret handshake that transcends words, embodying a promise forged between siblings.
Meanwhile, Madeleine reaches Daryl at the front of the gates, her gaze catching Denise walking away. Daryl gives her a subtle nod before they head towards the gates' exterior, where her father awaits them inside the car. A few moments of shared silence hang in the air, a nagging question lingering in the recesses of Madeleine's mind. Eugene notices their approach and opens the gate, allowing them to step out.
Just as they are about to continue, the woman grabs Daryl's arm, bringing them to a sudden halt. "When we got separated... the people you found... what did they do to you?" Madeleine's question resonates with a gravity that causes Daryl to shift uncomfortably, his eyes dropping to the ground as the weight of shame, guilt, and regret presses upon him. "What did they do, Daryl?"
"I helped them. I was going to bring them back with me. Then when I got to my bike, and I was wondering if you had followed me or stayed put, he pointed a gun at my head. Him and his girl stole my bike, the crossbow and rode away," Daryl explains bitterly, scoffing at the harsh reality of his own actions. "I helped them."
Madeleine places a comforting hand over his chest, her eyes reflecting sympathy. "Not everyone deserves our help," she points out, her gaze momentarily flickering to the waiting car. "When we're out there looking for food or people, you have to remember that. So does he. We're not safe, I don't think we'll ever be."
Their eyes lock for a brief moment, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. Daryl nods in understanding, and Madeleine sighs before they walk out of the gates. Eugene watches them, a curious gaze lingering as they enter the car. Madeleine occupies the front seat with Rick, while Daryl takes his place in the back.
"I mapped out some of the agricultural supply places in the area," Eugene interjects through the open window, presenting a map to Madeleine, who then hands it to Daryl. "Even if they've been cleaned out, my bet is that the sorghum would be untouched. Now, that there is a criminally underrated grain that could change the game with our food situation from scary to hunky-dunky." Eugene's words flow in a rambling manner, prompting Madeleine to raise an eyebrow as she turns her head to him. "I'm talking stand ability, drought tolerance, grain-to-stover ratio that is the envy of all corns. Think about it."
"Thanks," Daryl mutters.
The engine roars to life as Rick maneuvers the vehicle. Madeleine leans back, her head resting against the seat, her gaze fixed on the rearview mirror. In that reflective frame, Eugene's figure retreats behind the sturdy gates, diligently securing them. The vanishing image of Alexandria fades into the distance, the empty roads stretching ahead, each of them harboring distinct expectations for the run.
"Today's the day," Rick declares, a familiar mantra that has echoed in the air for the past two weeks.
Rolling her eyes, Madeleine gazes out of the window, her voice monotone as she remarks, "You've said that every day for the past two weeks."
Rick steals a brief glance at his daughter before refocusing on the road. "We're gonna find food, maybe some people. The law of averages has gotta catch up."
"I don't know. We ain't seen nobody for weeks," Daryl points out, observing his wife through the rearview mirror. "Maybe we ain't gonna find nobody. Maybe that's a good thing."
A subtle exchange of glances between Daryl and Rick ensues, before Rick reaches for a CD, placing it into the radio and cranking up the volume to its maximum. Madeleine and Daryl groan in shared annoyance, familiar with the repetitive tune that resonates within the confines of the car.
"Don't."
"Please don't."
Rick's voice cuts through the loud song enveloping the car. "Draws 'em away from home!" he calls out over the blaring music.
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The car continues its journey, navigating the desolate roads, and Madeleine's keen eyes catch sight of a house in the distance. She nudges her father and subtly gestures toward it causing Rick to reverse the car, steering towards the road leading to the house. After a few minutes, he parks the car, and the three of them step out, shutting the doors behind them. Rick extracts the keys from the ignition, and each of them retrieves their weapons. Madeleine, ever vigilant, unsheathes her sword, her eyes carefully scanning the surroundings as the two men head toward the house.
As Rick and Daryl approach the garage, Madeleine circulates around the house, her senses finely tuned to the potential dangers that may lurk within. The two men work together to open the door, one keeping watch while the other engages with the mechanism. In a matter of seconds, Daryl successfully opens it, and Rick cautiously steps inside with his gun raised, ready to confront any threat. Madeleine, hearing the door squeak open, swiftly returns to the front, examining the interior of the garage.
With a signal for quiet, Madeleine and Rick meticulously inspect the interior to ensure there are no hidden threats. Daryl, ever pragmatic, moves toward the back of the truck, eyeing it with suspicion. "It ain't locked," he announces, prompting an intrigued raised eyebrow from Madeleine.
"Wait," she calls out, a note of caution in her voice. "Could be a trap."
"Only one way to find out," Daryl breathes out, his resolve evident as he takes a deep breath before prying open the back of the truck.
Rick smiles in disbelief as the truck reveals a jackpot of supplies, primarily food. "Well, how about that?" Rick breathes out in relief as Daryl steps into the back of the truck with him to inspect the contents. "The law of averages."
"Yep."
"Let's get this thing going, grab our gear, come back for the car later," Madeleine proposes, the weight of her sword settling on her back as she strides towards the front of the car. With a casual ease, she opens the door, discovering it unlocked with the keys resting in the ignition. "Unlocked. Keys in the ignition," she announces, ensuring the men hears her before slipping inside and settling in the middle seat.
"Take another way back. See what we can see," Rick suggests as he and Daryl emerge from the back, Daryl conscientiously locking the truck. The two men make their way to the front, with Rick claiming the driver's seat and Daryl settling beside Madeleine. "The law of averages."
"Think it'll start?" Daryl questions, a hint of skepticism in his expression.
"Yeah, I do," Rick chuckles, turning the keys in the ignition, and the truck purrs to life. "Sorghum," he mutters, reversing the truck, and within moments, they're back on the road.
This time, the ride is cloaked in silence—no music, no conversation. Madeleine sighs and leans her head on Daryl's shoulder. Her dad, observing the subtle actions between them, notices as Daryl intertwines his fingers with hers. Rick glances down at his own naked hand, contemplating the significance of the absent wedding ring.
"When did you take it off?" Madeleine questions, her eyes probing her father's profile.
"A few days before Carl," Rick replies, his gaze steadfast on the road. "I thought it was time to leave the past in the past." Madeleine nods in understanding, her focus returning to the horizon. Rick, however, can't help but glance at the couple, noticing the small, intimate gestures shared between them. "What about you two?" Rick queries, an air of playful teasing in his tone.
Daryl furrows his eyebrows, exchanging a glance with Madeleine. "What about us?" Daryl responds, evading the question.
"When are you proposing to my daughter? Isn't it about time?" he asks, a glint of amusement in his eyes. Madeleine reaches up, touching her necklace, and Daryl gazes out of the window.
Just as Rick opens his mouth to further inquire, Daryl cuts him off. "Yo, stop here," Daryl instructs, pointing toward the gas station.
Rick gives him a puzzled expression before bringing the truck to a halt in front of it. Stepping out of the truck, Madeleine follows Daryl, both surveying the surroundings before Rick joins them. Daryl's keen eyes catch a vending machine overturned, prompting a questioning look from his wife.
"Can you give me a hand with it?"
"Why? It's just chocolate and pop," Madeleine points out with a raised eyebrow. Daryl simply looks at her, and she relents, "Sure. But not even if the three of us lift it up, it won't flip over." She glances over her shoulder at Rick, "Dad, get back in the truck," and then back at her husband as she moves closer to the vending machine, "Daryl, grab those chains and hook them up to the truck. I'll tie them to the machine."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Copy that, boss lady."
Rick sprints over to the truck as Daryl ties one end of the chain to the back of it, while Madeleine ties it around the machine. She signals for her father who turns on the truck and with military precision, they effortlessly flip the vending machine. Rick turns the engine off and exits the truck again, inspecting the contents of the machine.
"It's soda and candy," Rick remarks with a confused expression. "Why the trouble?"
Daryl shrugs, "It wasn't any trouble."
Suddenly, a man comes crashing into Rick, and without a moment's hesitation, Madeleine swiftly retrieves her gun, pointing it directly at the intruder, who sports a cover over his mouth.
"Down on your knees," Madeleine commands, her voice carrying the weight of authority as the trio converges, all of their guns trained on the stranger, who instinctively raises his hands in defense. "Now!"
"That won't be necessary," the man responds calmly, slowly unveiling his mouth as he returns his hands to their elevated position.
Madeleine fires a shot at the ground next to the man's feet, a warning shot that causes him to flinch slightly. Her finger remains poised on the trigger, a visible reminder of the consequences that await any deviation. "Next time I have to shoot at you, you'll lose a toe."
Daryl interjects, his voice a steely command as he fixes a piercing glare on the stranger, "Do what she says."
"Whoa, easy, guys. I was just running from the dead," the man explains, attempting to defuse the tension.
Yet, the trio maintains their vigilant stance, scrutinizing his every move. Daryl maintains his unwavering glare, the intensity in his voice underscoring the gravity of the situation.
"How many?"
"Ten, maybe more. I'm not risking it," the man shares with a nonchalant shrug. "Once it gets to double digits, I start running."
"Where?"
"About a half a mile back. They're headed this way," the stranger adds, casting glances between Rick, Daryl, and Madeleine.
"Okay, thanks for letting us know," Rick acknowledges, holstering his gun and Daryl follows suit, exchanging a subtle glance with Rick, but Madeleine remains with her gun raised in a silent assertion of caution. "Mads."
"You have a camp," Madeleine states, her gaze unwavering, but the man remains defiant, shaking his head in response.
"Do you?"
"It wasn't a question."
The two men flanking her share a quiet understanding, recognizing her aptitude for extracting information from anyone. She lowers her gun, a temporary ceasefire, though unlike her father and Daryl, she doesn't immediately holster it. Her eyes remain fixed on the stranger, a silent deadly dance lingering in her gaze.
"Sorry for running into you," the stranger offers, his eyes meeting Rick's as he places his hands down, stepping backward before he begins to walk away. "I'm gonna go now. If this is the next world, I hope it's good to you guys."
"I'm Rick," Rick calls out, a note of curiosity in his voice, causing the stranger to pause in his tracks. Daryl shakes his head at Rick's impulse, while Madeleine maintains her vigilant gaze on the retreating figure. "This is Daryl and my daughter Mads. What's your name?"
In response to Rick's inquiry, Jesus stands before them with his hands outstretched in a gesture of goodwill, a lighthearted smile playing on his lips. "Paul Rovia. But my friends used to call me Jesus. Your pick," he offers, his friendly demeanor belying the complexities that linger beneath the surface.
Rick's skepticism surfaces as he opens his mouth to question him further Jesus on whether he's on his own, but Madeleine turns to face her father, a knowing look exchanged between them.
"Not him, he's lying," Madeleine interjects, her gaze unwavering as she scrutinizes the man who now narrows his eyes in response. "He has a camp somewhere, and he's alone.."
"But, still, best not to try anything," he advises, his tone a mix of caution and awareness.
Daryl tilts his head, his gaze fixed on Jesus as he retorts, "Best not to make threats you can't keep, either."
"Exactly," Jesus agrees matter-of-factly, a subtle nod emphasizing his acknowledgment of Daryl's point. Jesus abruptly turns away and sprints towards the safety of the gas station's rear. "Sorry, gotta run. You should, too. Think you've got about seven minutes," he calls back.
The three of them watch as he disappears into the shadows, pondering the enigmatic encounter and the choices that lie ahead. Daryl's gaze shifts to his wife, who continues to glare at the empty space where Jesus stood moments ago.
"He was clean. His beard was trimmed. He has a camp, and he didn't have a gun, either," she asserts, turning back to face both men. "Negan's men would have guns. They wouldn't leave; they'd kill us or at least threaten us. He's as innocent as a kitty."
"His camp could be close by," Rick suggests, his hand resting on his hip. "We could track him, watch him for a while, get to know more. See if he's really alone. Maybe bring him back."
Daryl scoffs, "Nah, guy calls himself Jesus."
As they contemplate their next move, the sudden echo of gunshots reverberates through the air. They swiftly raise their guns, alert and ready, rushing towards the source of the noise to investigate. Upon reaching the scene, they discover firecrackers on a bin, the apparent source of the disturbance.
Madeleine kicks the bin to the ground before turning to her father. "Where's the keys?"
"Shit."
They dash back to where the truck was parked, only to find Jesus driving away, offering a hasty apology. Madeleine wastes no time, sprinting after the truck with the two men following closely behind.
As they race toward the retreating truck, the pursuit becomes a symphony of pounding footsteps, and heavy breathing echoing the urgency of their situation. Madeleine leads the chase, determination etched on her face. The pursuit unfolds against the backdrop of the decaying world around them, punctuated by the haunting echoes of their footsteps and the distant groans of walkers.
Madeleine's voice cuts through the air, laced with frustration. "I thought Jesus was all about giving to people, not take!" Anger simmers in her veins, a fiery intensity fueled by the blatant encounter with the stranger.
They continue running down the road until the sight of the vending machine which has been attached to the truck halts them, their chests heaving as they catch their breath. Madeleine, breathless, exchanges a look with Daryl, who breaks the glass of the vending machine and retrieves a can, taking a few sips before passing it to her.
"This was a special request from the doctor. It's to give to Tara." Daryl explains, Madeleine passing the soda to her father, who gulps it down. "They're dating." Daryl stashes a few cans in his bag as Madeleine looks at the road stretched out before them.
"Hey, whatever she wants. She saved Carl's and Freya's life. We didn't know her, and she turned out to be all right," Rick remarks, the words carrying a weight of gratitude for the unexpected alliances formed in the tumultuous journey of survival.
She points sarcastically toward the captive guy, her tone filled with irony. "What, like this guy?" Madeleine walks a few steps ahead, her gaze shifting toward the ground, noticing tracks that hint at the presence of others.
"No, fuck this guy," Rick retorts, a decisive dismissal that echoes the sentiment shared by them.
"We still got a trail," Madeleine announces, her finger pointing toward the road as she sighs. "Try to keep up."
For approximately 15 minutes, they run tirelessly, the only sounds punctuating the silence being the rhythmic cadence of their own labored breaths. The chase becomes a relentless pursuit, adrenaline coursing through their veins as they push their bodies to the limit. The urban landscape blurs around them until, finally, the truck comes to an abrupt stop in the middle of the desolate street. They slow down, their breaths ragged, a momentary pause in the chase.
Daryl nods toward the woods, a silent directive that beckons Rick and Madeleine to approach cautiously. Madeleine exchanges a knowing glance with Daryl, rolling her eyes at the subtle tactics of the two men. With a smirk, she diverges from their plan and heads straight for the source of their pursuit, ready to distract Jesus.
"Hey, Jesus," she calls out with a sharp whistle, causing the man to startle and turn towards her, caught off guard. "Taking any special requests?"
Jesus attempts to make a run, but Rick emerges from the woods, ambushing him from behind. "Hold still and maybe we won't hurt you," Rick grumbles, attempting to restrain Jesus.
"Sure thing," Jesus responds sarcastically, effortlessly slipping out of Rick's grasp and throwing him to the ground.
Madeleine watches the scene unfold with a bored expression as Daryl steps up, launching an attack. However, Jesus proves to be a formidable adversary, swiftly neutralizing Daryl until his attention shifts to Madeleine. With a nonchalant gaze, Madeleine braces herself for the impending confrontation, a calculated calmness evident in her demeanor.
"I don't wanna hurt you."
As Jesus lifts his hands in a gesture of non-hostility, Madeleine's responds with a smirk. "Is it 'cause I'm a girl? That's too sexist of you, Jesus."
In a swift move, he charges toward her, but Madeleine effortlessly sidesteps his punch, countering with a deft strike from her gun, sending Jesus sprawling to the ground. With the weapon now aimed at his head, the standoff intensifies, as three guns converge on him simultaneously.
Rick growls, his voice a low rumble of discontent, "This is done."
Jesus, unfazed, sits up on the ground, regarding them with an unamused expression. "Do you even have any ammo?" he questions, casting a skeptical glance at the guns pointed in his direction again.
The growls of an approaching walker reverberate through the air, causing Daryl and Rick swiftly to turn their attention, synchronizing their movements to dispatch the threat with a synchronized burst of gunfire. Meanwhile, Jesus shifts his focus toward Madeleine, intrigued by her resilience in the face of danger.
A wry smile plays on his lips as if bemused by the intensity of the situation. "You gonna shoot me over a truck?" he implies, his tone a blend of defiance and curiosity.
Madeleine responds with a casual shrug, a mischievous smile gracing her lips and Jesus eyes her carefully, gauging the seriousness behind her words. "Truck's worth more than your life, so, yeah, with pleasure," she states matter-of-factly, lowering herself to his level with a predatory grace. Seizing the keys from his pocket, she punctuates her intentions with a swift punch to his face, the impact eliciting a groan as he crumples, holding his bloody nose. "Oops, my bad."
"I think you know I'm not a bad guy," Jesus groans, propping himself up on his elbows and observing them with a wary yet earnest gaze. "Yeah?"
Madeleine holds out the keys, her eyes meeting Rick's as he takes them. Meanwhile, Daryl strides over to the truck, retrieving some rope with a purposeful determination. As Madeleine maintains her aim, her finger resting ominously on the trigger, she sends an unequivocal message that any sudden move will be met with swift and decisive action.
Jesus, undeterred, appraises her with a hint of admiration. "You're a good fighter," he acknowledges.
Madeleine smirks, tilting her head defiantly. "I'm an even better shot."
Daryl moves stealthily behind Jesus, expertly binding his hands together behind his back. Rick, in the meantime, starts the truck, the rumble of the engine underscoring the tension in the air. As Madeleine places her gun down, the unspoken threat lingers in the air. The trio proceeds with a blend of precision and assurance, each move calculated, setting the stage for what lies ahead in this unpredictable encounter.
"You're gonna leave me here like this? You're really gonna do that?" Jesus questions the couple who stands in stoic silence as Daryl retrieves the bag from the ground, noticing the burst drinks that resulted from being thrown down. "Maybe we should talk now."
Madeleine shakes her head, a wry smile playing on her lips as she turns her back and begins walking away with a nonchalant wave. "Nah, talk to your father. Maybe he'll help you."
"In case you get thirsty." Daryl shakes one of the cans from the bag before he tosses it at Jesus.
Finally, the three of them retreat back into the truck, locking eyes as Rick takes the driver's seat. Daryl rolls the window down and sticks his middle finger out, the crude salute punctuating their departure.
"So long, you prick!" he calls out, shifting his feet up onto the dashboard.
Madeleine rests her head back against the seat, a smirk lingering on her face. As they navigate the deserted roads, Rick restarts the music, the familiar tunes weaving through the air. In between bites of the vending machine snacks, Daryl extends a handful of chips to Madeleine.
"Hey, look at that." Rick interrupts the quiet with a muffled voice, pointing toward a barn a few meters ahead.
He turns down a street to head toward it, but the rhythmic thudding echoes over the top of the truck, causes Madeleine's instincts to kick in. Swiftly grabbing her gun, she shoots a glance at Daryl, who licks his fingers in confusion. She lowers the volume, giving the two men in the truck a meaningful look, silently instructing them to remain quiet. Though the audible thudding persists, and she turns to her husband, noting the annoyance etched on his face.
"I think that son of a bitch is on the roof," Daryl declares, pointing upwards at the truck's rooftop.
"Hold on," Rick responds abruptly, bringing the truck to an abrupt stop.
The unexpected halt sends Jesus tumbling off the roof with a grunt. Inside the truck, they lock eyes with the intruder, who rises from the ground, meeting their gaze with a hint of mischief before flashing a defiant smile and darting away.
"Mother-,"
Rick accelerates, pursuing Jesus, while Daryl swings open the truck door, leaping off and chasing after the agile figure. Amidst the chaotic scene on the farm, Daryl and Jesus engage in a relentless pursuit, their figures darting across the landscape like fleeting shadows. Madeleine hops off the truck with practiced ease, Rick skillfully maneuvers the truck, reversing with precision to crush the approaching walkers before strategically parking it, creating a temporary barrier against the undead onslaught. She climbs atop the truck, and surveys the unfolding chase, Daryl continuing his relentless pursuit of Jesus, each twist and turn around the farm intensifying the chase.
"We came to a conclusion, asshole!"
"I got him!" she exclaims with determination, her gun trained on Jesus as he maneuvers through the chaos.
Swiftly, she fires a shot, targeting the man's feet, causing him to crumple to the ground in pain. Daryl glances in her direction as she casually holsters her gun and descends from the truck, running over to them.
"I warned you, asshole. One less toe to worry about," she growls, her eyes narrowing with a predatory intensity.
Daryl, with a swift motion, lifts Jesus by his collar and delivers a punch, his attention fully focused on the captured man, oblivious to the approaching walkers. Suddenly, Madeleine pivots around, dispatching a walker with a nonchalant shot, its lifeless form thudding to the ground before walks after her husband, the bored expression on her face revealing a detachment that belies the intensity of the situation.
"Knock him out!" Madeleine calls out to Daryl, her voice cutting through the chaotic ambiance.
Jesus, still bewildered, frowns at her command. "What?"
Daryl's punch lands square on the man's jaw, rendering him unconscious. Swiftly, Daryl drags the incapacitated figure over to a nearby tree, where Madeleine's father observes with an air of stoic detachment, his hand casually resting on his hip. Together, they glance back, searching for the elusive van.
The woman turns to Madeleine's father with urgency, her question hanging in the air. "Where's the van?"
"Shit!" he exclaims, a wave of frustration crossing his face.
Madeleine, standing next to her father, pats Rick's shoulder mockingly as they witness the van disappearing into the depths of the lake. "Good job," she remarks sarcastically, her eyes narrowing as she shoots a disapproving look at Jesus. "What an asshole."
Rick turns to Daryl, concern etched on his face. "You all right?"
"Yeah. Law of averages. That's bullshit, man," Daryl sighs, his gaze fixated on the horizon. "Let's go check them cars, get the hell out of here."
Rick points down at the unconscious Jesus, raising a valid concern. "What about the guy?"
Madeleine, her eyebrows furrowed, responds with a dismissive tone, echoing Rick's earlier statement. "You said it yourself, fuck him!" She notices the contemplative look in her father's eyes and scoffs, "Do you seriously want to take this son of a bitch home?"
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The car hurtles down the road, Rick deliberately swerving to jolt Jesus into an awkward collision with Daryl's shoulder. Daryl pushes him away with a grumble, irritation etched on his face, while Madeleine watches the amusing spectacle unfold through the rearview mirror.
"He took a pretty hard hit," Rick observes, his eyes lingering on Daryl through the reflection. "Denise needs to look him over."
"Yeah," Daryl mumbles under his breath, his attention fixed on the passing landscape outside.
"You wouldn't have gone through with it. You wouldn't have left him," Rick asserts matter-of-factly, his gaze shifting briefly to the unconscious Jesus sprawled in the backseat.
Daryl continues to stare out the window, seemingly unaffected. "I would've, right up in a tree."
Madeleine mutters, "He's a diva."
"No. I know. Almost as soon as we got to Alexandria, you got it. You saw, you... Michonne, Glenn, you all tried to tell me," Rick acknowledges, the weight of realization heavy in his voice. He sharply swerves the car again, causing Jesus' unconscious body to tumble back onto Daryl's shoulder. "So shut up." Daryl, now annoyed, shoves Jesus to the side before laying his head against the window. His eyes meet Madeleine's through the mirror, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. "'Cause I'm finally listening."
As the night descends, veiling the sky in a cloak of darkness, the group weaves through the winding roads, enveloped in a solemn atmosphere. Daryl's voice breaks the silence, his words trailing off, and Madeleine listens intently as he recalls. "You know, I was thinking... back before we went out to the quarry. The morning after Reg and Pete. You said we shouldn't be looking for people no more. You were right."
"No..." Rick shakes his head, a subtle admission of his past sentiments, "I was wrong."
Madeleine turns her head, her gaze fixed on her father, who flashes the car lights as they approach Alexandria. The familiar gesture alerts the community to open the gates, granting them passage. The headlights cast fleeting shadows on her face as the car eases through the gates, entering the enclave of safety.
"You were right," Madeleine interjects sharply, her eyes meeting Rick's as she continues, "Whoever comes for us, we have the people. We train them. This asshole, anyone else out there, they're not worth it." Her gaze remains unwavering, a sense of determination emanating from her, "Not unless we can gain something from them. This guy, his camp... they want him back, they'll have to pay up."
The weight of her words hangs in the air, a contemplative silence settling over the group. The gates open, allowing them passage, and they drive through the protective walls of Alexandria. Rick parks the car, and with shared purpose, he and Daryl carry the injured Jesus toward the infirmary.
Madeleine takes the lead, running ahead to knock on the door. Denise opens the door, her expression marked with confusion as she glances between them. Her tired eyes cast a fleeting look over her glasses, absorbing the scene before her.
"Jesus needs your help."
"What?" The confusion etches itself on Denise's face as she glances at the unconscious man being carried by Rick and Daryl. "Who is this?" Denise inquires, her eyes narrowing as they enter the infirmary.
"Come on, man, he's heavy," Daryl grumbles, Denise swiftly opening the door for them as Daryl shoots the man a disdainful glance while they carry him inside. "Oh, that thing, uh, didn't work out. It's this asshole's fault. Sorry."
"Lay him on the bed," Denise demands, her focus shifting to attending the injured stranger. Rick and Daryl comply, gently placing Jesus on the hospital bed and Denise immediately begins inspecting his wounds, her skilled hands moving with a sense of urgency.
"Take a look at him. He ain't staying, though," Daryl comments, his voice laced with skepticism.
Rick sighs, weariness evident in his posture. "We'll see," Rick mutters, his hand rubbing tiredly over his face as Madeleine crosses her arms, her gaze fixed on the unconscious man. "It is pretty stupid of us to go out there, isn't it?" Rick remarks, voicing the weight of their risky decisions.
Madeleine slowly nods in agreement, her eyes reflecting a weariness that extends beyond the physical. "A continuum of bad decisions."
"Do it again tomorrow?"
"Yep."
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I'm really sorry for not updating on time, but here's the new Chapter! Jesus has met them which means one step closer to Hilltop. I really like writing that scene at the start, it was a good way of showing the dynamics and how Freya is around them a lot more. Can't wait to write more of her scenes, and scenes with Esperanza 😉
Also, Rick teasing them about getting married and he noticed how they remained silent while Mads touched her necklace... 🫢 he definitely senses something, but unlike most of them haven't realised it 😂 they've literally been married for months now haha
🚨 I've decided to make a new schedule; so Wednesday and Sunday will be the new days I'll be posting from now on 🚨
Is there any particular scene or episode you can't wait to read?
Hope you enjoyed this chapter, thank you for all the reads, comments, and likes 🫶
Thank you for reading ❤️