They barrel down the desolate road, the roar of the engine drowning out all other sounds as they pursue the fleeing truck. Daryl's grip tightens on the handlebars of the bike, his jaw clenched in determination as he accelerates, the married couple hot on the trail of their target.
"Keep it steady," Madeleine barks over the wind as Daryl maneuvers the bike with practiced ease, his eyes narrowed in focus.
She raises her gun, fingers tightening around the grip as she takes aim at the speeding truck ahead. Bullets whiz past them as the occupants of the truck return fire, but Madeleine remains undeterred. However, their adversaries bring out a heavy machine gun, and Daryl reacts swiftly, grabbing hold of Madeleine's arm as he steers the bike sharply to avoid the onslaught of bullets. They tumble to the ground, Daryl shielding Madeleine with his body as they hit the dirt.
Madeleine lifts her head, gritting her teeth against the pain, to see her father's vehicle roar past them in pursuit of the fleeing truck. With a quick exchange of glances, they spring into action, scrambling to retrieve their weapons and mount the bike once more. They quickly catch up to Rick, Madeleine taking aim and squeezing off shots at their quarry. One by one, their adversaries fall, but the driver remains elusive, darting through the chaos of the chase.
"Keep it steady!" Madeleine shouts, her voice tinged with urgency as she struggles to maintain her aim amidst the chaos of the pursuit.
"I'm trying, woman!" Daryl's response is laced with frustration as he navigates the treacherous terrain, the bike skidding and swerving as they race against time.
Madeleine narrows her gaze, focusing all her concentration on the small window of opportunity ahead. With a steady hand and steely resolve, she takes her shot, the bullet finding its mark with deadly accuracy.
Daryl curses under his breath as they watch Rick leap from their vehicle and into the bed of the truck, his figure disappearing amidst the chaos. With a swift decision, Daryl brings the bike to a halt, the couple dismounting and racing to the edge of the hill to witness the catastrophic crash below. Metal screeches against metal as the truck careens out of control, flipping end over end before coming to a rest at the bottom of the ravine.
Amidst the wreckage, they spot Rick, battered but alive, crawling out from the twisted wreckage. Madeleine helps her father to his feet, their eyes fixed on the overturned truck before them. She glances down at her bleeding arm, the result of their tumble, as Daryl swiftly tears a strip of his shirt and wraps it around the wound.
"I'm not dying, I simply scraped it."
Daryl shrugs dismissively. "Doesn't matter."
Rick exhales heavily, his breaths ragged with exhaustion. "We got the rest of the guns."
Daryl shoots Rick a blunt look. "You look like shit," he remarks, his gaze flickering to Madeleine as he finishes tending to her injury.
She secures her gun at her back, her eyes scanning their surroundings with a steely focus. "Let's go see if this asshole's alive," Madeleine suggests.
Daryl wraps an arm protectively around her as they move towards the overturned vehicle. Madeleine and Rick exchange a knowing glance as they watch the man attempt to crawl away from them, his movements feeble and desperate.
Madeleine regards the man with a bored expression, her hand hovering over the hilt of her sword. Gripping the weapon tightly, she aims it at the man's neck, the sharp edge gleaming in the dim light.
"Speak or die," she commands, her voice dripping with menace.
Rick's grip tightens on his gun as he stares down at the man sprawled on the ground, his expression stoic despite the turmoil raging within him. "Your people back in the chemical plant... did you win?" he demands, his voice cutting through the tense air like a blade.
The man shakes his head weakly, a grim resignation clouding his features. "No one did," he rasps, his voice barely above a whisper.
Daryl's jaw tightens as he steps forward, his own gun drawn and aimed squarely at the man's trembling form. "The hell's that supposed to mean?" he growls, his eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity. "The hell's that supposed to mean?" Daryl repeats, his voice dripping with contempt.
The man coughs, his gaze flickering away before meeting theirs once more. "Everyone's dead," he informs, his words weighted with despair.
Daryl shakes his head in disbelief, his grip on his gun tightening with each passing moment. "Bullshit," he snarls, unwilling to accept the truth before him.
Rick's expression darkens as he takes a step forward, his eyes boring into the man's soul. "There's no one else? You're the only one?" he demands, his voice tinged with a mixture of anger and disbelief.
The man's breaths come in ragged gasps now, the last vestiges of life slipping through his fingers like sand. "Me, the king, the axe man, and a short-haired psycho lady, and Adanna. The rest of the Reapers... they're gone," he states, his voice filled with bitter resentment as he gazes up at them with pure hatred. "You did this. My people... your people... they're all gone. And now... me too."
Daryl stands before them, his expression strained and anguished, teetering on the brink of tears. Madeleine's gaze lingers on the man on the ground, her features betraying no hint of sympathy as she keeps her sword trained on him. Without hesitation, she pierces her sword through his skull as Daryl staggers backward, befriended he turns away and heads towards the truck, his hand gripping the knife at his side.
"Hey. Give me a hand with this," Daryl calls out, his voice strained but resolute. Madeleine and Rick join him, their eyes narrowing in anticipation as they work together to extract a heavy box from the bed of the truck.
"We can use them," Madeleine declares, her voice cutting through the air like a blade as they notice the explosives inside the box.
Rick furrows his brow in confusion, his expression reflecting his uncertainty. "What?"
Daryl nods in agreement, his eyes fixed on Rick as he lays out his plan. "She's right," he asserts, his tone firm and unwavering. "Think about it. There ain't no Kingdom no more. We know what we gotta do," Daryl continues, his voice gaining momentum as he lays out his strategy. "We blow open the sanctuary, let the walkers flood in. They'll surrender. It'll be done." His proposal hangs heavy in the air, eliciting skeptical looks from both Rick and his wife.
"They have workers in there, children, old people... we can't risk blowing it up directly," Madeleine interjects, her voice tinged with urgency as she tries to reason with her husband.
But Daryl shakes his head stubbornly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "We'll hit the south side of the main building," Daryl attempts to reason with both Madeleine and Rick, his voice edged with urgency. "They live in the north side. They'll be up the stairs before the walkers even get in."
"There's people in there who aren't fighters. Doing this could change that," she asserts, her eyes locked on Daryl's, her words hanging heavy in the air as Daryl looks away, surprised by her opposition. "Make them pick up guns and stand by the Saviors? That's dumb. We're not doing this."
Daryl's jaw clenches as he squares off against Rick, their gazes locked in a battle of wills. "No, y'all ain't doing this," Daryl asserts, jabbing a finger at Rick's chest before turning to walk away.
Rick follows after him, reaching out a hand in a futile attempt to stop him. But Daryl swats Rick's hand away with a sharp gesture, his eyes blazing with defiance.
"There's a plan. And everyone's sticking to it," Rick insists, his voice strained with frustration as the two men stand face to face, their breaths coming in ragged bursts.
"Not everyone," Daryl counters, his voice low and dangerous. "There's a lot of our people that are dead, Rick. Things change, man. This is on them. If people die, it's their fault, not ours."
"It's not just people's blood you're spilling... it's children, old people, innocent people," Madeleine's voice cuts through the tension like a knife, her words heavy with accusation as she steps closer to her husband, her eyes burning with a mix of anger and sorrow. "I was there too, Daryl, I spoke with these people every day. I know them. You might not feel guilty, but for once I would."
Daryl shakes his head, his jaw clenched with frustration as he turns to walk away. Rick rushes after him, reaching out to grab his arm, but Daryl whirls around, his fist connecting with Rick's face in a sudden burst of violence. Madeleine rolls her eyes at them, striding over to where the two men stand, a storm brewing in her eyes. She helps her father to his feet before fixing a glare on her husband, who hangs his head in shame.
As Rick attempts to lunge at Daryl, Madeleine steps between them, her stance firm and commanding. "I will shoot both of your legs!" she declares, her voice sharp with warning, her hand instinctively reaching for her weapon.
Before either man can react, an explosion rocks the air, sending them flying through the smoke and debris. Madeleine coughs as she struggles to regain her bearings, her ears ringing from the blast.Daryl is quick to rise to his feet, extending a hand to help Madeleine up, but she brushes him off, standing tall on her own.
"Guess that solves our issue," she remarks, her voice cutting through the chaos with authority. "Fix up your attitudes or don't bother coming!" Madeleine's gaze flickers between Rick and Daryl. "I don't hear talking!" With that, she turns on her heel and strides away, leaving the men to stew in the aftermath of their confrontation.
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Daryl rides on his bike for what feels like an eternity, the road stretching out endlessly before them. Finally, he parks the bike to the side, the rumble of the engine fading into silence. Madeleine frowns as he hops off the bike, her hand instinctively reaching out to touch his arm, seeking an explanation for their abrupt stop.
"What's going on?" she asks, her voice tinged with confusion and concern.
"I just wanted to have a moment with you without chaos following," Daryl replies, his tone soft but tinged with a hint of vulnerability.
Madeleine's frown melts into a tender smile as she stands from the bike, closing the distance between them. She reaches up, cupping his cheek in her hand before leaning in to kiss him. Their lips meet in a heated embrace, a tangible spark igniting between them as they lose themselves in the intensity of the moment.
They pull away, their foreheads resting against each other as they catch their breath. Daryl holds her close to his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her, cocooning her in a bubble of warmth and safety amidst the silence of the night.
"I know you were watching me. When I was looking at the kid," Madeleine speaks softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she gazes into Daryl's eyes, searching for understanding and connection. "I felt your eyes on me, your presence, and my fears and doubts went away. Just like that."
Daryl's gaze softens as he looks deep into her eyes, his own emotions laid bare in the moonlight. He brushes a strand of hair away from her face, his touch gentle yet possessive as he leans in to press another kiss to her lips. In that moment, amidst the quiet solitude of the night, they find solace in each other's embrace, a silent promise of strength and unwavering support.
He reaches out, his fingers brushing against the pendant that hangs around her neck, a tangible connection between them in the dimly lit room. Leaning in, he presses his lips to hers, a tender yet passionate kiss that speaks volumes of the unspoken bond between them. "I know you wanted to give me a family, but you already have. I hope you know that," he murmurs against her lips, his voice husky with emotion. "Everything I've ever dreamt of... you gave me more than that."
Madeleine's hand rises to meet his, her fingers intertwining with his as their eyes lock in a shared moment of understanding and affection. "You're worth more than you realize, Daryl," she whispers, her voice soft yet filled with conviction. "It was never your blood that defined you, it is your heart."
"Until death does us apart," Daryl vows, his words a solemn promise that resonates in the stillness of the moment.
"Even in death, I'll still love you."
☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎☠︎
They gather around the expansive table in Negan's office, a mix of familiar faces and newly appointed ranks who have risen in the wake of the Reapers' betrayal.
"We were due for a delivery today from my place. Spotters haven't seen anything," Helio declares, his voice firm as he takes his seat across from Sergio, whose expression remains impassive as he stares at the vacant chair where Negan typically presides. "Yeah, the transport truck would've turned around, seeing the state of things, but... nothing's come up any of the roads."
"Chem outposts don't miss deliveries," Sara interjects, her tone sharp as she leans back in her chair, arms crossed in front of her. "Something happened."
"That Rick guy happened. Death happened," Helio retorts, his frustration evident in his tone. "Our outposts are getting hit while..."
Before Helio can finish his sentence, Sergio slams his hands down on the table, his eyes flashing with authority as he points a finger accusingly at Helio. "Enough! I will solve it! Not one more word."
"Maybe--" Simon begins to speak, but Sergio cuts him off with a withering glare, his voice dripping with scorn. "Did I ask for any suggestions? Huh? Did I? So why are you speaking?"
The tension in the room simmers like a pot ready to boil over as Sergio and Simon lock eyes, their gazes burning with unspoken animosity. A Savior rushes into the office, his expression rattled, setting off an alarm in the already charged atmosphere.
Sergio's gaze narrows as he fixes his attention on the woman. "What is it?" he demands, his voice sharp with impatience.
"They're coming up the stairs," she reports breathlessly, her words punctuating the air with a sense of urgency.
Eugene interjects, his voice laced with concern. "Walkers?"
"Workers," the woman clarifies, her tone tinged with anxiety.
Sergio's jaw clenches in frustration as he slams his hands down on the table, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. Without a word, he strides out to confront the growing crowd, Simon following closely behind, his posture rigid with anticipation.
"Go back to your jobs now!" Sergio's voice booms over the murmurs of the assembled workers, his eyes scanning the crowd with a steely intensity as his soldiers stand behind him, guns at the ready, a silent but formidable presence. "Workers are designated to stay on the ground level," Sergio declares, his voice brooking no argument as he stares down the dissenting voices in the crowd.
"It's too hot down there. And we sure as hell ain't going outside. When you gonna fix the power?" a man challenges, his voice rising above the murmurs of agreement.
Sergio's gaze hardens as he steps closer to the man, his eyes flashing with barely contained rage. "Maybe when you go back down the stairs, do your job, and realize there's no problem needing fixing," he retorts, punctuating his words with a sharp poke to the man's chest.
Simon attempts to diffuse the mounting tension, his voice cutting through the murmurs and whispers that ripple through the crowd like a gathering storm. "We're conserving fuel. It's a shared sacrifice. You're sharing now," he declares, his tone firm yet tinged with a hint of coercion.
But Sergio's patience wears thin as he faces off against Simon's attempted placation. "Simon," he snaps, his voice sharp with anger, "go away. If I need your help, I'll remember you exist."
The dismissal hangs heavy in the air as Simon retreats, his frustration palpable as he takes his seat once more inside the office, listening to the crowds shouting from outside, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun at his waist and he stares at it, taking in Madeleine's words when she threw the gun at him.
With a steely glare, Sergio locks eyes with the restless crowd, his expression daring them to defy him. "Go back to work!" he commands, his voice brooking no argument as he asserts his authority.
But the dissenting voices rise in protest, their demands echoing off the walls of the sanctuary. "We need more water! There are young people, old people!" they cry out, their frustration boiling over into open defiance.
"We work, you protect us. That was the deal. That's how it was supposed to work."
Sergio's jaw tightens in irritation at their insubordination, his hand clenching into a fist at his side as he struggles to maintain control. "If you're not happy, you can always leave," he growls, his tone laced with barely concealed contempt. "See your luck out there."
"Where's Negan?" the question hangs heavy in the air, a palpable tension radiating from the group of survivors gathered in the dimly lit room.
"Is he dead?" another voice chimes in, the fear and uncertainty evident in the speaker's tone.
"If he is, I am in charge now!" Sergio's words cut through the silence like a knife, sending a shiver of fear down the spines of those gathered. A few people shrink back, cowed into silence by the sheer force of his presence. "So, I suggest you go back down those stairs and do whatever you'd like. Work, leave, sleep... I don't care!" His eyes narrow as they land on a defiant figure in the crowd. "Now, now, you're here 'cause you know what my father is capable of. I very much take after him." With a swift motion, Sergio retrieves his gun from his waist, the metallic glint of the weapon catching the dim light as he levels it at a woman in the group. "I am Negan," he declares, his voice ringing out with authority.
Whistling can be heard as Negan enters the Sanctuary which surprises many, his imposing figure drawing all eyes to him. The survivors kneel in deference, all except Sergio, who meets his father's gaze with unwavering intensity.
"Ah, Sergio, thank you," Negan's smile is like a shark's grin, sharp and predatory as he acknowledges his son's loyalty. Sergio bows his head in acknowledgment, his gaze never leaving his father's face. Negan's eyes drift to the Alexandrian survivor he's brought with him, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Now, I know you thought I was dead, chewed up, never to be crapped out again. Well, here's a little refresher on who the hell I am."
He surveys the crowd of kneeling survivors with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "I wear a leather jacket, I have Lucille, my son's is charged when I'm not here, and my nutsack is made of steel," he proclaims, his words dripping with arrogance. "I am not dying, until I am damn good and ready."
Negan's gaze pierces through the crowd, daring anyone to challenge him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am in deep need of a sandwich, a shower, and a chat with my son," he announces, his eyes locking onto Sergio's with a silent command. "But after that, we have some serious business to attend." He nods at Sergio, who returns the gesture with a stern nod of his own. "Now, we gotta figure out how all of this could've happened," Negan continues, his tone shifting to one of determination. "And we're going back to how we were. We save people."
"Thank you, Negan," a voice murmurs from the crowd, a mixture of relief and reverence evident in the speaker's words.
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"You're back."
Carl's voice cuts through the air with a mix of relief and anticipation as Madeleine and Daryl roll into Alexandria on the bike. Without hesitation, Carl rushes forward, enveloping his sister in a tight embrace. As they part, Madeleine turns to Michonne, embracing her in turn, their bond as strong as ever despite the trials they've faced.
"How's she?" Madeleine's voice is laced with concern as she turns to Carl, her gaze searching his face for any sign of improvement.
Carl's expression darkens with sorrow as he meets her gaze. "Same as before you left," he admits, his tone heavy with the weight of their shared burden.
Madeleine's jaw clenches at his words, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Are the meds helping?" she presses, her voice tight with worry.
"Adanna said it's too early to tell before she left," Carl replies.
"What happened? You took longer than expected," Michonne interjects, her concern evident in the furrow of her brow.
"Ran into some complications, it's dealt with," Madeleine explains tersely, her gaze flickering to Daryl, who watches the exchange with a contemplative expression. "I'm going to see my sister, spend some time with my siblings," Madeleine announces, her tone resolute. "We have less than a day, Michonne. We have to be prepared."
"I trust you, but I don't trust him," Michonne declares, her gaze drifting to where Daryl sits astride his bike, his arms crossed in silent contemplation. "I know that look on his face, I had that look before."
"I'll knock some sense into him, don't worry," Madeleine states confidently, her gaze locking with Daryl's for a fleeting moment before he averts his eyes, a hint of guilt flickering across his features. "Let's go, Carl." Michonne and Madeleine share a knowing look before Madeleine turns to walk with Carl towards the infirmary. "I'm sorry I'm not around much."
"It's fine. You need to make sure Alexandria is a good place for people to live, especially after you manage to get the rest of your people out of there. You need to make sure people live in peace here," Carl replies, his voice tinged with understanding and support.
"I will," Madeleine nods with determination. "I'm going to talk to Daryl. I'll meet you in the infirmary."
She places a reassuring hand on her brother's shoulder before striding towards her husband with a skeptical look in her eyes. As she approaches, she notices a car with Rosita and Michonne driving away from the gates.
"Leave it, Mads."
"Who you waiting for?" Madeleine snaps back at him, her eyes narrowed with annoyance. "I want Negan dead as much as everyone. And then I'll bring Dwight for Tara. We can't improvise now," she argues fiercely, her voice tinged with urgency as she tries to reason with him.
Daryl raises an eyebrow at her words, his expression grave as he considers her proposal. "You're going to let her kill him?" he questions, his voice low and tinged with concern.
"Why wouldn't I?" Madeleine counters, her tone defiant as she meets Daryl's gaze head-on.
Daryl swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as he searches her eyes for any sign of hesitation. "I won't do anything that'll get you killed," he insists, his voice rough with emotion.
"What about your own damn self?" Madeleine shoots back, lines of worry etched into her forehead as she watches him closely. "We have a plan and we're going to follow it. Do you think I don't want him to die? I want to be the one putting a bullet through his head. We have to do this right."
Shaking his head, Daryl takes a step closer to her, his hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. "Mads, if we do this now, their only choice is to give up," he implores, his voice earnest as he tries to make her see reason.
Madeleine gently removes his hand from her cheek, her expression softening slightly as she looks into his eyes. "You made a promise to me... remember it, if you actually go through with this," she reminds him, her words carrying the weight of their shared history as she walks away, leaving Daryl to ponder her warning.
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Keisha strides into the Hilltop compound, her presence commanding attention as she leads a small group of Reapers. Maggie and Jesus watch from the gates, their expressions guarded as they observe their allies walk through the Hilltop.
"LISTEN UP!" Keisha's voice cuts through the air like a whip, drawing the focus of the Reapers towards her. "I want 2 of you on those posts 24 hours a day with whoever else is on there already," Keisha commands, pointing towards the watchtower looming overhead. "While 2 of you keep watch on a perimeter to the north, and the other pair to the south, inside the walls. Watch out for any blind spots. One of you can rest, then switch."
Jack steps forward, his gaze unwavering as he speaks up. "Flynn and I will take the first shift on the tower."
"I'll take the south," another Reaper volunteers, her voice firm with determination.
Maggie's eyes narrow slightly, but she remains silent, watching the exchange with a mixture of caution and curiosity. Keisha nods approvingly at their responses, her gaze sweeping over the group with a sense of authority.
"Gio and Justine outside will rest first, then they'll switch with those on the tower," she instructs, her voice unwavering. "And they'll sleep. The three of you can decide who stays on watch while the other rests, then switch. I want this rotation going 24/7." She pauses, her gaze locking with each Reaper in turn as they hold their rifles close to their chests, ready for action. "I want eyes open all the time, but I want y'all to rest too," she continues, her tone firm but not unkind. "You two on the towers, one can rest every 6 hours and then switch, but you'll stay up there for 24 hours."
As her words sink in, Keisha's expression softens slightly, a hint of concern flickering in her eyes. "Stay sharp, stay vigilant," she adds, her voice carrying a note of reassurance amidst the tension of their duties. "We can't afford to let our guard down, not now."
"AY!"
They disperse to their designated positions, the tension thick in the air as Keisha turns towards Maggie, her gaze steady despite the weight of their shared history. She offers, extending her hand in a gesture of greeting. Their handshake is firm, a silent acknowledgment of the trials they've faced and the alliances they've forged in the wake of devastation. Jesus steps forward, his expression grave as he extends his own hand in greeting.
Maggie's smile is warm but tinged with sadness as she meets Keisha's gaze. "You can call me Maggie," she replies, her voice steady despite the weight of the conversation that hangs between them. "I don't know how to tell you this... a few of the Saviors at the compound... they're here. Imprisoned."
Keisha's brow furrows in concern, her eyes flicking towards the distant figures of the imprisoned Saviors at the far end of the Hilltop. "Okay," she responds slowly, her mind racing with implications. "I'm sure it will be covered by one of them, don't worry about them trying to escape."
"They were your friends," he points out, his voice edged with a mixture of confusion and scepticism.
Keisha's jaw clenches at his words, her resolve hardening as she meets his gaze head-on. "No, they weren't," she counters firmly, before turning to Maggie once more, she seeks solace in the familiar presence of a fellow survivor. "Is Gracie here with Aaron?" she inquires, her focus shifting towards the safety of their loved ones amidst the turmoil of their divided loyalties.
Maggie nods, her expression sympathetic as she gestures for Keisha to follow. "Come with us," she offers, extending an olive branch in the form of solidarity amidst the uncertainty that lies ahead.
They step through the grand doors of the mansion, the opulent surroundings a stark contrast to the harsh realities of their world outside. Making their way towards the office, they find Enid and Aaron cradling Gracie, the innocence of the child a beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounds them. Keisha offers a nod of acknowledgment to Enid, a gesture of solidarity despite their limited acquaintance.
"She's beautiful," Keisha remarks, her gaze softening as it settles on the baby, who gazes back at her with curious eyes. Her attention shifts to Aaron, sympathy etched into her features. "I'm sorry about Eric. Death told me about him."
Aaron's expression flickers with a mixture of pain and longing as he speaks, his words heavy with the weight of grief. "I keep... forgetting he's gone. I have this... weight. There's moments when I think I'll see him, that I'll, uh... be able to talk about how I'm feeling with him. And my mind catches up, and I remember that the pain is about knowing that it will never happen."
Maggie sighs in understanding, her own experiences with loss lending weight to Aaron's words. She lays a comforting hand on his shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity in their shared sorrow.
"I know that feeling," she murmurs softly, her voice tinged with empathy.
Aaron looks up at Maggie, gratitude shining in his eyes as he seeks reassurance from someone who understands his pain. "Does it get easier?" he asks, his voice tinged with hope, desperate for any semblance of comfort in the midst of his grief.
"No." Maggie's response is firm, her head shaking with sincerity. "But it helps to do something about it."
Enid folds her arms across her chest, her gaze shifting to Jesus, while Keisha's brow furrows in confusion. "How is he?" she asks, her voice tinged with concern.
"Gregory's fine," Jesus replies with a sigh, a hint of exasperation coloring his tone as he rolls his eyes. "He's trying to suck up to the Saviors now. I just wanted to say, I think you did the right thing. And I wanted to thank you."
"Don't," Maggie interjects, raising her hand in a halting gesture. "The Saviors in that pen might be bargaining chips. Maybe we'll have to trade them for some of our own people." Her gaze shifts to Keisha, but the girl remains unfazed by her words. "They're alive 'cause we might need them. Jesus, if we don't... we can't let them live."
"They'll always be Negan," Keisha asserts, her tone resolute, catching them off guard with her blunt honesty. "If they wanted to change and be on your side, they would've done it already. Widow's right..." she trails off, correcting herself, "I mean, Maggie."
Aaron gently passes Gracie into Maggie's arms before he exits the room, followed closely by Enid. Keisha takes a seat beside Jesus, her expression contemplative as she settles in front of Maggie.
Keisha regards the woman before her with a heavy heart, her gaze laden with sorrow. "I remember you, you know," she says softly, the weight of their shared past bearing down on her.
Maggie's response is slow and deliberate, her expression reflecting the pain of their shared memories. "I remember you, too," she acknowledges, her voice tinged with sadness.
"We had to be there," Keisha continues, her voice trembling with emotion. "We had to do shit most of us didn't agree with, just because we didn't know how else to survive him." Tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over as she recalls the hardships they endured under Negan's rule. "But Glenn, your husband, he should be here. All of them."
Maggie's features soften at the mention of her beloved husband, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "How old are you?" she asks, her voice gentle despite the pain that lingers in her heart.
"18," Keisha replies, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggles to contain her emotions.
"You're still a kid..." Maggie's voice trails off, her lips curling into a bittersweet smile. "Thank you," she adds, her gratitude evident in her words as she acknowledges the courage and resilience of Keisha.
Esperanza sighs softly, a hint of relief washing over her weary frame as she sits up in the infirmary bed, the pallor of illness slowly receding from her complexion. The faint glimmer of hope lights up her eyes as she realizes that she's finally on the mend, her strength returning bit by bit. No longer confined to the sterile confines of the infirmary, she eagerly anticipates the prospect of returning home, where she can find solace in the familiar comforts of her own bed.
As she carefully packs her meager supply of medications, a soft smile graces Esperanza's lips at the sight of her sister's entrance. Madeleine's presence brings a sense of warmth and familiarity, a comforting reminder that she's not alone in her struggle.
"You look good," Madeleine remarks, her voice laced with genuine concern as she takes in her sister's improved condition. "You ready to go back home?"
Esperanza's smile widens at the prospect, a flicker of excitement dancing in her eyes. "I can't wait to actually sleep on my bed," she admits, a faint chuckle escaping her lips. "My back hurts."
"You're getting old," Madeleine's teasing retort earns a playful swat from Esperanza.
"How'd it go out there?" Esperanza inquires, her concern evident in the furrow of her brow as she regards her sister with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "Anything I can help with? I feel much better!"
"Don't worry about it, everything's in control," Madeleine reassures her, her voice steady and confident.
Esperanza's determination shines through as she expresses her desire to contribute, her eyes alight with a newfound sense of purpose. "I want to help," she insists, her voice tinged with conviction.
But Madeleine shakes her head, her expression firm yet filled with love and concern. "No, you and Carl are to stay put," she asserts, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We don't need you out there. I need you to rest, and Carl to look after you and Judith. That's all y'all need to do. Leave the fighting to me."
Esperanza's smile softens as she nods in understanding, her trust in her sister unwavering. "Where's Carl?" she asks, her gaze shifting to the doorway expectantly.
"He said he'd come here, probably went to get Judith for you," Madeleine replies, her voice tinged with amusement as she anticipates her brother's arrival.
Sure enough, Carl enters the infirmary with Judith in his arms, a warm smile lighting up his features as he approaches his sisters. "Hey, we're here," he announces, his voice filled with genuine affection.
"Took your time," Madeleine teases lightly, though there's a hint of relief in her tone at the sight of her brother and niece.
"So did you. Where were both of you?" Esperanza inquires, her curiosity piqued as she glances between her siblings.
"Just having a meeting with the reapers, sent Alita on a side mission," Madeleine explains, her tone casual yet tinged with underlying frustration. "She'll be back soon."
Carl offers a sheepish smile as he steps closer to his sister's bedside. "Sorry, I-I had something to do," he admits, his gaze shifting to Esperanza with concern. "How are you feeling?"
"A bit better," Esperanza replies, her gaze softening as she meets Carl's eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Carl assures her quickly, his tone gentle yet reassuring. "Just glad to see you out of bed."
"We should do something together. Just us four," Esperanza suggests, her voice filled with warmth and longing for the simple pleasures of family bonding.
"That's a good idea. What are ya'll thinking?" Madeleine asks, a spark of excitement lighting up her eyes as she considers the possibilities.
Carl nods in agreement, a fond smile playing on his lips as he gently maneuvers Judith in his arms, preparing to put her down for a nap. "I just need to put Judith to sleep first, but then we could just walk around," he suggests, his tone eager with the prospect of spending quality time together. "Maybe practice with the bow. I've improved. I'd say I'm better than you."
Esperanza chuckles softly, shaking her head in mock disbelief. "We both know that's impossible," she retorts, her affection for her brother evident in the playful banter.
"Ah, I missed that smile on your face," Carl remarks, his heart swelling with love as he watches the joy return to his sister's features.
A hint of moisture glistens in Esperanza's eyes as she blinks back tears, overcome with emotion at the depth of her love for her siblings. "Are you crying?" Carl asks softly, his voice filled with concern as he reaches out to brush away her tears.
"I just love you guys," Esperanza confesses, her voice choked with emotion. "You're my family. I never thought I'd find you, and then you gave me all I ever wished for."
Moved by her words, Carl pulls his sister into a tight embrace, holding her close as they share a moment of pure, unadulterated love and gratitude. Madeleine joins in, enveloping them both in her arms as they revel in the warmth of their familial bond, knowing that together, they can weather any storm that comes their way.
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"You're back," Madeleine states, her gaze following Rosita's departure before turning to Michonne and Alita. "Thank you, Alita," she acknowledges, her tone carrying a note of gratitude as Alita nods in acknowledgment before striding away.
Michonne approaches, a grateful smile playing on her lips. "Thanks for sending Alita to knock some sense into us. I ain't never gonna do something you think ain't right," she assures Madeleine, her words a solemn vow of loyalty. "We're a team, right?"
Madeleine returns Michonne's smile, a sense of determination shining in her eyes. "It's time."
Michonne's gaze softens as she looks to Judith, who sits contentedly in Madeleine's arms. "Can you say bye-bye?" she prompts gently, her heart swelling with love for Hope the little girl.
"Bye," Judith chirps, her small voice filled with innocence.
Michonne's attention then shifts to Esperanza, and a warm smile spreads across her face as she embraces the younger woman. "You already look good," she remarks, her eyes scanning Esperanza's form with pride and affection.
Esperanza's words elicit a small smile from Madeleine, a flicker of relief evident in her expression. "I definitely feel better," Esperanza affirms, her voice tinged with determination. "Don't worry, I'll look after them. I feel better, I'm not dead yet. I can be useful."
Madeleine's gaze softens as she hands Judith back to Carl, a sense of protectiveness evident in her actions. "You have to rest," she insists gently, her concern for Esperanza evident in her tone. "My babies."
"Hey! I'm not a baby," he protests, asserting his independence despite his sister's protective instincts.
"You'll always be my baby brother," Madeleine responds, her voice tinged with nostalgia as she recalls their shared history. "I watched you be born and named you."
Curiosity piques in Carl's eyes as he questions her choice of his name. "Why Carl?"
Madeleine's lips curve into a wistful smile as she reminisces about their past. "There was a neighbor, an old man, living on the same floor as us. My mother and I. We were really poor and nearly got evicted at one point. He took us in."
Esperanza listens intently, drawn into the story of Madeleine's past. "What happened to him?" she inquires, her voice gentle with curiosity.
"He died," Madeleine replies simply, her gaze distant as she recalls the memory. "Of old age."
The gates creak open, and Madeleine's gaze darts toward the truck pulling in, her heart skipping a beat as she spots Daryl and Tara emerging from the vehicle. Their eyes meet for a fleeting moment, a surge of conflicting emotions crashing over her like a tidal wave, but she quickly turns away, steeling herself against the onslaught of memories and desires that threaten to overwhelm her.
But Daryl refuses to be ignored, determination etched in every line of his rugged face, he strides purposefully toward her, his footsteps echoing loudly in the tense silence of the area.
"It worked," he calls out after her, his voice a mixture of relief and defiance. Madeleine whirls around, her eyes flashing with anger as she points an accusatory finger at his face. "It worked, leave it alone, Mads."
Her fury ignites like wildfire, her words dripping with venom as she lashes out at him. "You could've died!" she seethes, jabbing her finger into his chest with force. "You know how you would feel if I did what you did, so stop acting like it doesn't matter!"
Daryl's gaze falls to the ground, his silence a heavy weight in the charged atmosphere between them. "I had to," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, but it rings loud in the stillness of the moment.
Madeleine shakes her head in disbelief, her siblings hovering behind her like silent witnesses to the escalating confrontation. "Bullshit," she retorts, her voice rising with each word. "You're doing this for yourself! You're my husband. Your decisions don't just affect you, they affect me too!" Her chest heaves with the intensity of her emotions, her anger threatening to consume her as she confronts him head-on. "You're a selfish son of a bitch."
Madeleine and Daryl's gazes linger on each other, a silent exchange of emotions passing between them as Carl approaches, Judith cradled in his arms. Esperanza stands nearby, a somber presence, her head bowed with the weight of their current predicament pressing heavily upon her.
"You made a promise to me. You can't come through with it if you're dead," Carl's voice cuts through the tension, his words a stark reminder of the stakes they face. Daryl nods slowly in acknowledgment, his expression grave as he processes Carl's words. "Let's go," Carl continues, determination firm in his tone as he leads the way with his sisters.
As Carl begins to walk away, his siblings trailing behind her, Daryl's gaze lingers on his wife's retreating form, a pang of regret tugging at his heart. "Lily..." he murmurs, his voice heavy with emotion, but his words trail off into the empty air as she disappears from view.
Michonne steps forward, placing a comforting hand on Daryl's shoulder, her silent presence offering solace in the midst of his turmoil. "She'll come around," Michonne assures him, her voice steady and reassuring despite the uncertainty that looms over them all.
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I really thought this chapter was going to be shorter than usual 💀💀 But it still seems not a lot happened this chapter, some scenes still felt very important.
I really am heartbroken already and I haven't even managed to edit the next 2 chapters... I'm heartbroken in advance 🥹🥹
Important note ⚠️ : Until the 1st of May updates will only be on **Sunday** as I have two important exams and not a lot of time spare to write much. I hope you can't understand, but good news after the exams are over I will have more time to write and hopefully begin to update 3x a week again yayyy 🎉🎉
We've also reached 40k reads Woah 🤯 thank you so much for taking the opportunity to read my book, I really appreciate it.
Thank you for reading ❤️