CHAPTER FORTY NINE,
not now, not yet
NATHAN SOMETIMES WONDERED what kind of person he was.
Whether he was the coldness that had filled up his mother, the hero that his father had been, or the man he wanted to be — he wasn't quite sure. He could never place his fingers on it, too far from his reach, a distant goal that he could never cross.
However, he wasn't a good person. He's learned that no matter how hard you try, no matter how bruised your knuckles were you will always be shadowed by the wrongs you couldn't fix. His soul was ugly, flawed and darkening, resting heavily in his chest like the shadow of a little devil. It was the lingering of a ghost, a curse, a memory, guilt.
Shane had been right, but at the same time he had been completely wrong. They were one of the same on the coin, but resting on two different sides. It was always in the details, in the cracks, coming in the forms of hypocrisy and cowardice, in the shadows and the guilt. They were collided at crossroads, both sharing the similarity of wanting to protect someone they cared for — but Shane would drawn his own blood before he would betray that, and Nathan always thought he had been that person as well. He had been once, in a time that felt so long ago.
He didn't.
These thoughts gnawed at him like a parasite when he saw the blade sticking in the Governor's back. It was a sign of what he had done wrong, of what he couldn't fix, of the thing he betrayed — and the haunting look in his leader's eyes only made it worse.
She was alive, and she was angry, and she wasn't the only one. The other woman was another storm without a name, a prediction that could not be perceived, and it had been all Merle Dixon's fault. Traitor had been uttered from Phillip's lips and marked Merle's fate. He was in deep shit, and if Nathan didn't get to him first there would be no other time.
Nathan was going to try to be good. He had to.
Outside of the nurse's building, the night smelled of gunpowder and smoke. There was a buzz of anticipation among the citizens as they panicked in the streets, processing the aftermaths that had taken place before. He could smell it all as the ghost of the wintry air kissed him back in a white cloud, leaving a lingering of tobacco and making his nose crinkle a bit. Strangely enough, cigarettes had grown more disgusting as the apocalypse progressed on, but in a way it was still his comfort mechanism.
Maybe it would spread a cancer in him that had taken his father.
From behind him the door shut and he threw a glance over his shoulder, already knowing who it was and when he was proven to be right, he turned away from the one armed redneck.
"You're in deep shit, Dixon."
Merle's eyes narrowed and he paused in front of him. "Whatcha talkin' about, boy?"
Nathan took a quick survey of the area, and then back at Merle. He stepped into the street to close some distance, not even caring if the man was two inches taller than him.
"Michonne was here," He explained. "and if you haven't noticed, that blade belonged to someone else that supposedly died on your watch too. The Governor doesn't take kindly to liars."
Nathan admittedly was almost taken back at how silent Merle was being, used to him constantly opening his mouth and saying any kind of bullshit he could come up with. However, he didn't need to speak — he could see it all in his eyes, crumbling down like a wall at this revelation. There was some doubt there too, a mistake that the young man could understand.
They didn't like each other, so why should they trust one another's word?
"That's some bullshit."
Nathan's eyes squinted and crushed his cigarette with his boot.
"Still a stupid, racist, and misogynistic flea, huh?" Nathan said. "Look, i'm not any better myself. We clearly don't like each other, but I'm just tryin' to warn you, man."
Merle eyed him cynically. "Why?"
"Because you saved her, something I was supposed to do," Nathan stated, crossing his arms over his chest. "Philip is planning something tonight and it ain't gonna be pretty, so I suggest you get the fuck out."
Merle glanced around the street the same way Nathan had moments before. The Governor's militia was prowling around the streets, and in this moment, he realized they looked like dogs. They didn't know it, but they had leashes, trapping them to a man that possibly could be another person entirely behind his mask.
Nathan was trying to get rid of his.
"What 'bout you?"
He met Merle's eyes and contemplated, hand scratching at the end of his growing beard with a thoughtful frown. What about him? What was his new mission?
He definitely didn't want to stay here, but he also couldn't run away from the fucked catastrophe he created. He needed to know more, learn what the Governor was going to do with Rick's group, and pass it on. This was a situation that wasn't going to be left so easily.
"I have some things to do first," Nathan spoke. "I can't work under him anymore. I can't be that person."
Merle nodded, and the young man hoped, wondered, prayed that he was doing the right thing. He had to be good, he had to try.
Nathan had to make things right.
━━━━━
Samantha felt feral.
The taste of her own blood was a familiar visitor, the bruising it's companion, swallowing her up in a hazy mind of wonders as her and Michonne trekked through the streets. She was used to a mouth full of blood, mangled fists that had been slammed into opposing forces. Samantha had been that person once, the adrenaline of violence filling up her body like some otherworldly pleasure, but she had thought that girl had been erased completely.
She never left. Not completely.
That girl was only sleeping, stirring in a restless slumber and slowly awakening with each punch that life had thrown at her. Every emotion was erratic, enhanced into something entirely larger as she kept it lodged inside. She still hasn't mourned, still hasn't processed anything since she found her old group, and just now it's becoming apparent.
Samantha couldn't, not yet, not now.
Finally, Michonne changed her pattern. She let go of the Walsh girl's shoulders and crawled under a railroad car. Samantha called to her but the silence answered back, and so she had no other choice to follow behind.
"Turn around. Turn around."
Rick's demand met her ears and she poked her head out. Her eyes enlarged at the sight of the python being pointed towards the woman, but then it changed. Anger was immediate and it curled inside of her, pushing Samantha forward and out into the open to step in front of Michonne.
"You really like pointing that thing, don't you?" She hissed. "Put the gun down, now."
The couple behind the former sheriff abandoned their defense position, and soon, Rick reluctantly followed behind.
"Where the hell were you?" He demanded.
In return, Samantha crossed her arms over her chest. "We had to handle some unfinished business."
The burning of his blue irises made her want to scoff.
An arm wrapped around her shoulders and Samantha flinched away, looking to her side to see Maggie Greene. "Are you okay?"
Why was everyone asking her this?
She was just about ready to answer when her eyes scanned the group, heart falling to the pits of her stomach when she realized they were missing people.
"Where's Oscar and Daryl?"
"They killed Oscar, and they took Daryl."
Dread filled her, the air becoming hard to swallow and the weather suddenly choosing to be hotter. This was exactly the reason why she didn't want to come back to Woodbury. All it took was take and destroy.
Rick swirled around to Michonne. "Anything happens to them—"
"I brought you here to save them." She interjected.
"Thanks for the help."
Michonne's attention remained on the man. "You'll need to get back to the prison, or go back there for Daryl. Either way, you need me."
Rick didn't reply, and Samantha wasn't sure what was going on inside of his head. He was hard to read, but she was going to push it. She was not going to allow this place to take away Daryl too.
"She's right," Samantha agreed, the momentarily silence breaking from her voice. "We need her, just as we need to save Daryl. He would do the same for you, for all of us."
Her breaths slowed, memories circulating her brain and at the imagery of Daryl being at the clutches of Philip. He was not a woman, but he was still considered the enemy.
If Philip could still kill someone even if they're heart still beat, she didn't want to imagine what he would do to Daryl.
They had to save him. She had to save him.
Woodbury suddenly became alive with an orchestra of yelling.
They found a crowd of citizens when they followed the source of the noise. An arena was lit up with a mockingly orange glow, and in the center of it all were leashes clamped on the necks of walkers like some sickening circus. Samantha felt the disgust churn her stomach as her and Rick watched from afar.
She saw Daryl and Merle.
Samantha gave into the realization that the Governor had found out his lies and this was his punishment — but it also had been her fault too. If her and Michonne didn't go through with their revenge, he wouldn't be caught in this.
She had to bite back her gasp when she suddenly saw Merle hit his own brother, throwing him down as the walkers tried to inch closer. He howled something inaudible, catching the word loyalty in that sentence, all the while attacking his own flesh and blood. She was disgusted, but genuinely confused too.
Something about this seemed unreal.
She wanted to rush out into the open and save them. They were brothers, the only two roots left in the world of their family tree. She's seen the stories of brother going against brother, and she didn't like the ending.
Samantha looked at Rick, but he wasn't ready. Her teeth clenched onto her bottom lip, patience growing thin and her heart wanting to burst from her ribcage.
Finally, Rick filled his promise. He rolled a flash bang into the arena and it exploded with a large cloud of hazy smoke, it starting to send the citizens into a frenzy.
Without a second thought to Maggie and Rick taking out the lights, Samantha ran forward. People were falling left and right from bullets, the walkers were going crazy, and everything else was a blur of chaos. It didn't take her long to find Merle and Daryl's figures in the thick smoke, and when she was close enough she shouted their names.
Daryl turned directly towards her gaze. Samantha smiled.
However, this made her guard drop and she didn't notice the injured guard advancing her way.
She's only seen him a few times, but she never gotten his name. He was a buff man, several inches taller, a bullet wound in his chest and full of rage. Luckily for her, he must've lost his weapon but that still didn't stop him from charging into her.
Samantha fell to the sand and instinctively rolled when she saw his foot come crashing ground. She reached for her sword but he kicked it away with his other, this making it farther from her reach and even easier for him to get. He jumped forward with a shout and his hands found the sword, raising it up and—
He fell to the ground beside her feet.
Samantha didn't take a moment to hesitate. She grabbed her sword and found Daryl coming her way. He grabbed her in a way that reminded her of a time she needed his hand before, but it wasn't his grip around her wrist this time—it was his hand in hers, fingers intertwining tightly and pulling her up. She followed behind the Dixon brothers, but not before looking over at the person that had shot her attacker.
She knew it couldn't have been from Maggie or Rick's gun. This bullet came from another angle, from behind Samantha and from someone that she had least expected.
When she saw that mane of black curls and grey eyes so dark, they appeared black, that familiar feeling of guilt twisted in her like a sharp blade. He was there, Nathan Barton, standing in the smoke with his gun raised and watching her.
Samantha did the only thing she could think of; She raised her middle finger.
━━━━━
Samantha could still taste blood and smoke at the back of her throat when morning came. The trek back to the vehicles was a long one, but far enough so they wouldn't be followed.
She hadn't spoken much since they left Woodbury, keeping her eyes downwards and to the glint that her sword produced. She could see blood still there, of both walker and maybe even some human, and almost wanted to count how much life shes taken in the last two days.
She didn't want to.
Her body was being slowly overcame by exhaustion, but she kept herself forward with the others. Her feet were incredibly sore, maybe even scarred with blisters, and her legs were absolutely slowing her down. Still, she didn't stop.
Samantha turned to Daryl. "You took a lickin' back there."
With that he looked at her, eyes trailing along her face for a moment. She probably looked worse.
"So did you." He responded.
Samantha frowned, thoughts wondering back to the Governor. Her desire for revenge, all this bitterness, the repression of everything has not extinguished and she was mad at herself for not killing him. She should've done it, even with Andrea pointing a gun at her — she should've taken the bullet if that meant ending Philip's life.
"I had some unfinished business."
"Glenn!"
Samantha tore her attention away and brought it towards Rick. Glenn's voice swept through the trees as the group forced themselves to move faster.
"Now, we've got a problem here." Rick tried, raising a hand forward in an attempt to calm the becoming chaos that was Merle Dixon's presence.
"What the hell is he doing here!?"
As predicted, weapons rose and voices turned into shouts. The two groups became one and Michonne lunged forward with her katana, Glenn following behind with his raised gun.
"He tried to kill me!" Michonne shrieked.
This is the first time Samantha has seen her lose control. She didn't want to see the consequences that follow.
"He helped us get out of there!" Daryl defended.
Rick brought his gaze to the redneck. "After he beat the shit out of you." He retorted.
"Hey, we both took our licks, man." Merle chimed in.
"Jackass!" The younger brother cursed.
"Enough!"
The group resisted Rick's authoritative demand and their voices continued to grow. Outrage caused a divide between them, and all the while Merle stood like an arrogant fool against a tree. Samantha stayed the most silent among them, her arms crossed and her head dimpled. Usually she would've said something by now, but she felt strained by both sides. While she wanted Merle to stay, it would be controversial, especially since he did beat Glenn almost to a pulp, almost killed Michonne, and shot her.
"Looks like you've gone native, brother." Merle taunted.
Daryl whipped towards his brother, eyes narrowed. "No more than you hangin' out with that psycho back there."
Merle seemed completely unfazed. "Oh, yeah, man. He's a charmer. I've gotta tell you that. Been puttin' the wood to your girlfriend, Andrea, big time baby."
His remark was entirely targeted at Michonne, sending look to her that made her face shift. Samantha felt her stomach turn in disgust at his comment, her thoughts returning to the blonde and vicious memories.
"Andrea's in Woodbury?" Glenn questioned, eyes trailing along the group in shock.
"Yeah," Samantha swallowed. "She came a little while after me and, uh, Nate arrived."
It was hard to have his name on her tongue without feeling everything all over again.
"You know Andrea?" Rick demanded. He repeated this again when she didn't answer, but no words ever came from her lips.
"Yep, she does," Merle took this as an opportunity to continue. "Her and blondie spent all winter cuddling up in the forest. Mmm, yeah. My Nubian queen here had two pet walkers. No arms. Cut off jaws."
Everyone looked dumbfounded, glancing at the woman in utter silence.
"Kept them in chains...kind of ironic now that I think of it—"
"Shut up, Merle!" Samantha snapped, open to the idea of wiping the stupid smirk off his face with her fist.
Merle simply chuckled. "Hey, deputy princess, we snagged them out in the woods. Andrea was close to dying."
She wanted to correct him, say you mean took them against their will? As her and Nathan had been, but she didn't. She remained just as silent as them, uncharacteristically of Samantha, but at the same time that seems to be who she is now.
"Snug as two little bugs," Merle responded just as his eyes fell on the young brunette. His lips twisted again, a taunting gleam in his eyes. "Just as you and your buddy had been, right?"
Samantha felt her heart drop and her nostrils flared. She could feel herself growing feral that stemmed from the newly lick fire inside of her. Any second now, she could see Merle's body on the ground with her towering over him.
"So, whatcha gonna do now, sheriff? Surrounded by a bunch of liars and thugs?"
"Shut up!" Rick bellowed.
Merle laughed, pushing himself further into thinner ice. "Oh, man. Look at this. Pathetic!"
"All these guns—"
"Shut up, Merle!"
"And no bullets in me!"
"Merle Dixon—!" Samantha started.
"Shut up yourselves!" Merle shouted, stepping from his spot against the tree. Something inside of Samantha forced herself forward but Daryl held his arm out, his arm hair brushing up against her skin. "Bunch of pussies—"
Rick took the duty to knock the redneck out, taking the back of his gun and hitting him on the back of his neck.
There was a moment between the survivors that felt of surprise, shock, annoyance, and relief. Samantha breathed out hers and wiped the sweat from her forehead.
Some fucking reunion.
━━━━━
Samantha kept her eyes trained forward with her hands lingering on the hand of the sword, senses on high alert and watching the group speak quietly amongst themselves.
She wasn't sure what her role was anymore. It just felt like she was existing as a stranger that they happened to share memories with. Woodbury turned this thought into a fact, especially with the cold shoulder Rick has been constantly giving her.
She couldn't decide if she did something wrong, or it was just him. Had she changed that much that he had to act in that way? She didn't know. She wasn't good at reading him anymore.
"How are you holdin' up?"
Samantha craned her neck, lips flatlining when she was met with Maggie's stare.
"Surviving." She answered, her shoulders jerking upwards into a shrug.
Maggie nodded, soon joining the twenty year old in staring at the group. It looked like she wanted to say something else, glancing over at Samantha with her mouth open but nothing came out. It was as if she was choking on them, unable to force them from her throat and get them out.
But finally, after a moment she did.
"What happened to you?" Maggie asked, concern etching over her exhausted features. "I mean, what happened out there?"
Samantha contemplated, not knowing whether to tell her or where to begin. How she supposed to? Speaking of it was giving it a key and allowing its invitation, and once it comes in, it'll never want to leave.
She looked over at Maggie and first noticed the shirt. Samantha didn't remember her wearing that when they left the prison, nor did she remember her changing into it any time while they were at Woodbury.
She remembered Glenn wearing it, however. So, why was she wearing it instead of her own?
A thought clouded in her head. Her stomach turned, nausea twisting. Did he get to her too?
"You're not wearing your shirt." Samantha responded.
"What?" The farmer's daughter sounded, eyebrows stitching together.
"Glenn was wearing that when you left," Samantha continued softly. "So, what happened to your other one?"
Maggie was silent, but there was an expression on her face that said it all. It lingered between them not like a stranger, bua invited guests, a bittersweet comfort to
the two women that they had both suffered from the consequences of the world's grasp and they weren't alone. In a way, Samantha was welcoming her with open arms, but she knew she wasn't ready — not yet, her eyes told, come to me when you're ready.
And when that moment was over, Samantha made her way to the group.
The first thing she heard was Rick's voice as she stepped over. "It won't work."
"It's gotta." Daryl insisted.
Samantha crossed her arms over her chest, glancing over Merle and back at her group. "Why?" She demanded.
"It'll stir things up."
She frowned. No one has never found Merle as good company. Even Samantha, who despite finds herself friendlier with him than most people, finds him intolerable sometimes. However, she knows what it's like—to be separated from the only blood that you ever known.
Only thing is, Daryl's brother was alive when he found him.
Something inside her cracked at the thought of Shane, and she found an ache in her heart that was unexplainable.
As this went on, this terrible feeling inside of her chest that swallowed her whole, the conversation continued.
"Look," Daryl begun. "The Governor's probably on his way to the prison now. Merle knows how he thinks and we could use the muscle."
Samantha opened her mouth to agree but was quickly interrupted by Glenn and Maggie.
"I'm not having him in the prison."
"Do you really want him sleeping in the same cellblock as Carol? Beth?" Glenn asked.
"He ain't a rapist."
Glenn scoffed. "Well, his friend is."
Something in Maggie's face shifted. Samantha's chest tightened as she was suddenly send back into a spiral of cruel memories, fingers curling into her palm and her eyes widening in disbelief at how incredibly insensitive his comment was. No. I can't. Lock the memory back up, throw away the key.
"They ain't buddies no more," Daryl stated, his face contorting sternly. "Not after last night."
But Rick was stubborn, mind already made up on the decision. "There's no way Merle's going to live there without putting everyone at each other's throat."
"So you're gonna cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?" He gestured towards Michonne.
She stood a little away with her arms crossed, a guard look on her face that didn't reveal any visible thoughtfulness. They needed her too.
"She's not coming back."
Samantha snapped her attention to Rick with a look of incredulity. "She helped you," She reminded indignantly. "If it wasn't for her, Maggie and Glenn wouldn't be here nor alive."
"She's right," Maggie agreed. "She's not in a state to be on her own either."
In his tone, there was a growing desperation. It was subtle, but not hard to distinguish with his words. "Merle. Merle's blood." Daryl said.
Glenn shot this down angrily. "No. Merle is your blood. My blood, my family is standing right here and waiting for us back at the prison."
Daryl didn't speak for a moment, but she could see it all in details of his cracked facade: through the dirt that made his skin a little darker, through the mossy blue eyes that darkened over. Betrayal. It was the hardest thing to swallow, especially if it's by the same people he found sanctuary with. They were refusing him the one thing he had looked for, and that was almost unforgivable.
He was defeated, undeniable disappointed.
"Man, y'all don't know," He said. "Fine, we'll fend for ourselves."
Samantha's stomach dropped. "What?" She spluttered, almost choking on her own words with how fast they came crashing out.
She was looking over at him. He couldn't look back.
"No me. No him." These words were a determination. A finality.
Her stomach was dropping and it wouldn't stop falling. It was an endless feeling of shock, and a sadness she could find words for. She just got back. She just got back and he was leaving.
"Daryl, you don't have to do that." Maggie frowned.
But he already had a look on his face that she recognized from before. It was when it was just him and Merle against the Atlanta group, just two lone wolves trying to find a way in this world. He had already made his decision, and whether he truly liked it or not, he pretended it was his only one.
He wouldn't look Samantha in the eyes, who tried her hardest to catch his. "It was always Merle and I before this."
"It doesn't have to be." Samantha spoke softly. This finally got his attention, his eyes meeting hers and they looked over at one another silently.
When he finally did break this contact, her face felt cold.
She turned to Rick, with eyes burning of both anger and of salt. "They were in this group before you," Samantha debated. "Merle saved my life! I wouldn't have found you guys if it weren't for him."
Rick didn't say anything, moving his gaze over to the youngerDixon brother as he circled to the truck. Instead of waiting for his reply, she followed after the rednecks. Her legs screamed at her in dismay, but she pushed forward after him.
"Daryl Dixon!" She called his name like he was a defiant child, but he refused to look at her. "We'll work something out. I'll make Rick see—"
"That ain't gonna happen," He threw a quick look at the crowd that stood on the street. "They don't want him. No him. No me."
"I got you into the group the first time, I can do it again."
Through the lack of his answer and his quick rummaging at the trunk, she felt ignored. Softly, her fingers trailed along his arm and gripped his forearm, her touch making him finally pause. "Daryl," She pleaded. "You aren't done with us." You aren't done with me.
He found her face, eyes dancing across her features like tiny ballerinas. There was hesitation, a moment of contemplation as he looked down at her, and she had hoped, prayed even that she had been the cause of this. She just got back. She just got back. He can't leave. But as quickly as the moment started, it was gone, and that finality came back.
"You'll be fine without me, you were all those months," No. I wasn't. "I wouldn't ask you to leave yours."
Samantha was left dumbfounded at his words as he closed the truck.
His backpack swung around his shoulders, and turned. He was starting to leave, but she wasn't giving up just yet. She followed behind him to the edge of the woods, stopping once the shade reached her.
There was something pulling inside of her, a desperation, a sadness, an ache. Salt filled her eyes and her chest heaved heavily. She wasn't done with him. Not yet, not now, not ever.
"That's not true," She swallowed the pain from her voice and let it sit at the back of her throat. It burned. "All that time, during all those months, I thought of you."
Daryl faltered, looking over at her once again and what she hoped, wasn't the final time. Something in his expression softened, in a way she hasn't seen before on anyone else, but she couldn't he sure—it was subtle but she caught it and grasped onto that.
He didn't say anything, but there was many questions behind his eyes, none that he had the chance to ask.
"I thought of everyone," She continued, her voice bouncing back to her from the trees. "You guys kept me alive, even if I felt like I was dead—the thought of seeing you and everyone again, it kept me going."
Samantha let him have those words, wanting them to sink in and hope for whatever affect that may come, but whatever it was he didn't show it—at least not anymore. It took everything in her not to shake him, to make him see her way, because in the end it was his decision and she would be hypocritical—I wouldn't ask you to leave yours.
When he turned his back on her once again and for the final time, it felt like there was a weight on her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around herself, keeping the burn from her nose and the salt from escaping her eyes. She watched him go to Merle, the older brother sharing a look of victory before they left.
And when he finally was gone, and that horrible ache was in her chest that she could not find a name for came gnawing back, she realized something—that Daryl Dixon's departure hurt just as much as Shane's death did.
(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟnote
SURPRISE !!!
it's been such a long ass time since i updated this book, and i know that some of y'all probably thought i gave up on miss samantha walsh — but i haven't. that bitch is my baby, and my first ever baby on this app. i could never.
seriously though, i missed writing this book. but since i first wrote this my writing has gotten better?? you can especially see it in my other works because i've been focused more on other fandoms that isnt twd, because once upon a time ago inferno was the only book i focused on.
originally i was going to publish this chapter on halloween, because sammy made 30!! however, i didn't like how the chapter was being written so i rewrote it to give it some justice.
i missed her so much, and i'm going to give her the love she deserves by not giving up. thanks for all the endless support on this book <33 me know what y'all thought of this chapter!
words ; 5139
edited ;