#but i sadly had to cut some of the longer glenn pauses and things

[charmac]

Mac (2009) and Dennis (2023) Break Up

[dixonsmonroe]

Near To You

Summary: Daryl and Rick had everything, until they didn’t. But when Daryl meets Jesus, he learns that there are always second chances when it comes to love.

Pairing: Daryl x Rick, Daryl x Jesus

Word count: 4k

Author’s notes: i actually found this in my google docs other day and apparently i wrote this 2 years ago so enjoy!

Warning: mentions of smut (18+), fluff, pining, canon level violence, i will never stop loving desus

Daryl hadn’t taken kindly to Rick right away. He didn’t like him when they were still at the camp and Rick had a gun to Daryl’s head, and told him in his best ‘good-cop’ voice, “We don’t kill the living.” It was like that for a while; anytime Rick started off on his pep talks, Daryl wanted to knock him in the teeth. The longer Merle was gone, though, the pep talks became less annoying and even kind of comforting.

After they left the CDC and ended up at the farm, Daryl still kept his distance, but did whatever Rick needed him to. He actually enjoyed being around him, and working in a group as a team. He felt useful around the farm; it was work he knew how to do. He also noticed the only time he was ever annoyed at Rick anymore was when Shane was around. Shane would make some dumbass remark, Daryl would antagonize him, and Rick would keep them from fighting. Shane would leave and Rick would just look apologetically at Daryl, who would shrug it off and assure everything was fine.

Nothing had ever happened until the prison. They had been there for a while, and after Lori died, Rick had started to come back to them bit by bit. He was currently in a peaceful farming phase, which was plentiful for the group, but still a little out of character.

Rick met Daryl in the guard tower for first watch shifts after everyone went to bed.

“The place is lookin’ good,” Rick looked out over the whole prison, over the crops they had grown and the reinforcements around the walls. “We really made this place home.”

“Took a lotta work, but it was worth it.” Daryl replied, smoking his cigarette, “You got us all here.”

“Couldn’t have done it without my right hand,” he smiled. Daryl stifled a grin and looked away, trying not to let Rick see him blush.

They had been together like this a thousand times, just the two of them, hanging out. They were best friends, they were family. But sometimes Rick would laugh a certain way or he’d get all focused and solemn or he would push his hair out of his face and Daryl would freeze up. Rick was a strong leader, and a good friend. He had Daryl’s full loyalty.

“How’ve you been doing?” he asked.

“Much better. Rick nodded. “I know I lost it a little bit, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I’m figuring things out.”

“You need anything, lemme know.”

Rick stared out the window in silence for a few moments. “There might be something.”

Daryl glanced at Rick, who was now looking at him, albeit a bit nervously.

“What’s that?”

Rick looked hesitant now, like he was mentally backing out of whatever he was going to say. He leaned closer to Daryl still, until their hands were touching. Daryl glanced at Rick out of the corner of his eye. He could feel Rick’s body heat so incredibly close, and it made him shiver. Rick finally took his hand and held it as they looked out across the yard. Daryl fought back a grin and gave Rick’s hand a squeeze, leaning against him.

Nothing more had happened until about two weeks later. In those two weeks there had still been plenty of secret hand holding, stolen smiles and glances, the like. But one day after an especially tolling run, Daryl had made his decision. It had been rough out there; it was him, Rick, and Maggie, the car had stalled and they almost got taken out by a hoard. Daryl watched Rick almost get bit and he felt like he was about to lose everything he cared about. He had thrown the walker off of him after stabbing it and helped Rick up. He patted Daryl’s shoulder and nodded towards the car.

The moment they knew they were completely alone back at the prison, Daryl kissed Rick. The best part was Rick kissed him back, as if this was normal, as if it was how it had always been. Rick’s hand went to Daryl’s cheek and they leaned their foreheads together.

“I—“ Daryl started but Rick cut him off with another kiss.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I wanted to do it first, but I couldn’t find the right time.”

“Me too.” Daryl replied. “Figured you almost dyin’ was as good a reason as any.”

Rick chuckled, leaning back a bit, thumb running over Daryl’s cheekbone.

That was how it was after that. They didn’t tell anyone, not Glenn, not Carol, not anybody. There were nights where they would sneak off to an abandoned cell or hallway and just take their time, take in every bit of each other.

One night was different. Rick still had Daryl pushed up against the wall, still inside of him as they came down, slowing their breathing.

“I love you,” Rick breathed out so quietly, Daryl wasn’t sure he’d heard it right. He just turned his head around his shoulder and kissed Rick sweet and soft. Rick’s eyes were a little wide, pride and ego slowly melting away.

“I love you,” Daryl said finally. Of course he did. He always had.

It was like that for a while; sneaking off to fuck after everyone went to sleep, spending guard shifts paying attention to their job, but also pausing to make out like teenagers or just talking about everything. It was bliss Daryl had never experienced in his life, and it was with his absolute best friend.

The day the prison got broken into, Daryl left with Beth and there was no sign of Rick anywhere.

He and Beth had been through some shit, Daryl had gotten drunk and acted like a total asshole, and Beth was nothing but understanding, even though he may not have deserved it. That night, they sat on the porch of the house they had found, having a heart to heart. Beth, even with her naive nature that made Daryl have hope but also made him a little bitter. He’d never had the option to be optimistic in his life, always on high alert.

“You wanna know what I was before all this?” Daryl asked softly. “I was no one. Nothin’.”

Beth looked sad for a moment, but nodded for him to keep going.

“Until I found Rick and the group.” He continued. He had never told anyone about him and Rick, never ever. But Beth was understanding, and as much as she talked or sang or whatever, he knew he could trust her. She and Maggie felt like the younger sisters he never had.

“Rick and I—“ he took a breath before he spilled all the things he had never told anyone. “We were together. We’ve always been close, always been his right hand. But at some point it was more than that.”

Beth grinned dreamily. “Do you love him?”

He nodded, a small smile on his face thinking about it. Everything was shit right now, but despite everything he’d said when he yelled at her earlier, he knew they had to find Rick and their family.

“We’ll find them again,” Beth reassured. “We’re going to.”

He had lost Beth. He was alone, until he found the Claimers. He missed Beth, he missed having someone he trusted and who kept him sane. These guys were brutal, they were guys he knew not to cross.

The night they had found the guy Joe was looking for, Daryl heard a voice and immediately knew who he was.

Daryl heard Joe threatening Rick, so he stepped out of the shadows.

“Joe!” he said, causing him to turn towards Daryl. “You gotta let these guys go. They’re good people.”

He made quick eye contact with Rick, careful not to give anything away but screaming on the inside because Rick looked both terrified and relieved to see him. Michonne looked angry, but also so fucking scared at the same time.

He argued with Joe, he really tried.

“Hey, you want blood. I get it.” Daryl put his crossbow down and held his arms out. “Take it from me, man.”

The blows started almost immediately. The other Claimers just started wailing on him as hard as they could. He was praying he didn’t crack a rib or get kicked in the face or fucking die.

Joe’s voice was barely audible to him, Daryl’s heart pounding in his ears. “First, we’re gonna beat Daryl to death, then we’re gonna have the girl. Then the boy. Then I’m gonna kill you.”

Daryl knew he had to get up, he had to fight back, he had to save them. He had seen a man drag Carl out of the car and throw him on the ground, holding him down and unbuckling his belt. Oh, fuck no.

He listened to Rick plead with Joe, pleaded with him to let his son go, just let him go.

A gunshot rang through the air. The men stopped beating Daryl, and he got up to fight. It was rough, and he saw Rick stagger against the noise, and when Rick seemed almost incapable of fighting any longer, he looked Joe in the eye.

“What are you gonna do now?” Joe taunted, before Rick bit down on his neck and tore out his jugular.

Daryl couldn’t believe what he just saw, Rick unhinged and willing to do anything to protect his own.

They killed the other men, left them in the road and rested until morning.

Rick was sitting on the ground, back against the car, still covered in blood. Daryl poured a little water on a rag and handed it to him.

“We should save that to drink.” Rick said.

“You can’t see yourself, he can.” Daryl nodded toward Carl in the car. Daryl sat down next to him while he cleaned his face. “I didn’t know what they were.” he said sadly.

“How’d you end up with them?”

Daryl looked down at his lap. “I was with Beth. We got out together. I was with her for a while.”

There was a pause of silence until Rick asked if she was dead. Daryl shook his head and said she was just gone. He told him how he ended up with the Claimers, how they were looking for some guy, how he’d almost left them, but didn’t.

“That’s when I saw it was you three, right when you saw me.” His voice was sad and low. “I didn’t know what they could do.”

“It’s not on you, Daryl.” Rick took his hand. “You bein’ back here with us now, that’s everything.”

This was the first bit of physical contact they’d had since the prison. Daryl finally felt warm, even with how much he hurt after being beaten half to death, Rick’s hand on his was everything he needed right now.

“I love you,” Rick said quietly. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

Daryl nodded, and gave his hand a squeeze. Rick said it, but Daryl could tell he was still shaken up.

“Hey, what you did last night; Anybody would’ve done that.” he said reassuringly.

“No, not that.” Rick replied. Now he looked like he was trying to hold himself together. Rick had gotten violent before, but it was always to protect someone. His family was in danger and he saved them. “It ain’t all of it, but that’s me.”

Daryl knew how sad he looked, but he couldn’t help it. “You’re a good man. You protect your own,” Daryl lowered his voice a bit. “You’re the person I fell in love with, no matter what you do.”

Rick leaned into him until his head was resting on Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl kissed the top of his head and squeezed his hand.

They made it through Terminus. They made it through Grady hospital. They had most of the group back.

They lost Beth.

Daryl barely spoke the entire time they walked towards Washington. His family was there for him, and gave him enough space at the same time. Now that they had more people, Rick was busy leading all of them. Daryl knew it wasn’t his fault, but they began to drift apart. Things were rough, until they found Alexandria. Rick became constable, and had been making friends --and enemies-- all over. Most people respected him, but Daryl felt so out of place.

Rick had spent two nights at Daryl’s house, making sure to not draw attention to themselves. They had sex that night, but it was different. Rick was there with him, of course, but it almost felt sad. Like it was the last time they would be like this. They fit together so well before, but after all this time apart and everything they went through, they were different people.

The next night, they didn’t even fuck. They physically slept together, but that was it. Daryl had been wanting to have this conversation for a while, but he obviously didn’t want to do it after sex.

“Are you good?” Daryl asked as they lay next to each other.

Rick had his elbow on the pillow and rested his face in his hand as he turned towards Daryl. “I’m good. Are you?”

Daryl shrugged. “Feels like things are different. With us.”

Rick nodded solemnly. “I’ve had a lot goin’ on. I’m sorry I haven’t made time for us.”

Daryl shook his head. “Don’t feel bad. You’re doing so much good for everyone.” Daryl sat up then, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I know you’ve been eyeing Jessie. I noticed it almost the moment we got here.”

Rick sat up and put his hand on his shoulder. “I would never, ever do anything to hurt you. Nothing has ever happened with her.”

“I know,” Daryl said sadly. “But I get it. I ain’t the last person on earth.”

“Daryl, I know there’s still people out there, but I made the choice to be with you, you’re not just some guy.” Rick said firmly, but Daryl heard his voice falter. “You’re not just some option.”

“I love you,” Daryl said quietly. “I’ve always loved you and I always will. But I don’t want to hold you back. I’ll always be here for you when you need me, I’ll always do anything for you.”

Rick’s voice cracked. “But?”

Daryl finally looked at him and took in the heartbreak on his face. “But I need to let you go. I want you to be happy, and I’m not what makes you happy anymore.”

Rick looked like the wind had been knocked out of him, but after a moment Daryl could tell he was done denying the truth.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never wanted to make you feel like you weren’t important. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Daryl took Rick into his arms and kissed the top of his head. “At least stay tonight?”

“Of course,” Rick said. “Anything for you.”

It took a few weeks before Daryl’s heart stopped feeling like it was going to fall into his stomach every time he saw Rick. He knew Rick had kissed Jessie, and he knew that it never turned into anything more. He stayed on the edges of Rick’s life, trying to keep a little bit of distance so he didn’t die from pining after his lost love.

When they did end up going on a run together, it felt like old times. Not like nothing romantic had ever happened, but that comfort he felt whenever he was with Rick. He missed his best friend, and he was starting to be okay with that being all they were.

That’s when they met Jesus. Daryl was annoyed with him immediately, but he fought back this nagging feeling of attraction. He didn’t trust the guy, and he certainly didn’t want him around his home. But little by little, Jesus started to grow on him. Before Daryl knew it, they were working together a lot more, and they worked together well. He hadn’t felt this way ever; his feelings for Rick were completely different. Jesus was not only charismatic and caring, but he was out and proud. Daryl had had one sexual relationship with a man who was openly gay, before everything went to shit, but it was still before Daryl had come out. He pushed his feelings to the back of his mind, not wanting to think about what another heartbreak would do to him at this point.

The Hilltop was bustling with activity. Everyone was doing some sort of work; laundry or farming or building something. Daryl was making new arrows on the Barrington House porch, and Rick was beside him lacing his boots and waiting for Maggie to come by. She and Rick had some sort of business to discuss between the two communities.

“First nice day we’ve had in a while,” Rick said, pushing his curls out of his face. “You goin’ hunting before the party tonight?”

“Yeah, gonna try and bring back something big.” Daryl nodded. “I don’t know what you mean, though. ‘S fuckin’ hot.”

Rick laughed. “Maybe if you didn’t wear a leather vest everywhere.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and went back to his arrows. He eventually felt Rick nudge him, and when he looked up he saw Jesus and Maggie down the street walking towards them.

“Y’know, I think he likes you.” Rick said.

Daryl looked at him and scoffed. Rick was trying to wingman for him now, great.

Daryl looked back in Jesus’ direction. He did actually have a little bit of a crush on the guy; he was a good goddamn fighter, but still a gentle, caring person. He certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes, either.

“Hey,” Jesus greeted them as they walked onto the sidewalk.

“Rick, you ready?” Maggie asked.

Rick stood up and patted Daryl on the shoulder. “Ready. Hey, Jesus, you busy today?”

Jesus shrugged. “No, not really. Do you need something?”

“Yeah,” Rick said, the smile undeniable in his voice. Daryl knew exactly what was about to happen, fuck. “Daryl’s goin’ huntin’ today. Trying to have enough food for the party tonight and then some, couldn’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands.”

Jesus smiled. “Yeah, absolutely.”

Rick nodded and walked off the porch and off with Maggie.

“Bye, Daryl!” Maggie threw Daryl a smirk over her shoulder. This was a goddamn conspiracy, Daryl knew it.

“So, when were you planning on heading out?” Jesus asked.

Daryl cleared his throat and pushed his hair out of his face. “Probably twenty minutes? Gotta finish these arrows and then I’m ready.”

“Cool, I’ll grab my stuff and meet you back here?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah, that works.”

Jesus walked toward his trailer and Daryl watched after him the whole way. Jesus definitely liked him as a friend at least, they had started staying closer to each other during missions, often opting to work together. They made a good team, and Rick definitely noticed, putting them together on jobs a lot more recently.

It had been a good hunt, Daryl and Jesus hauled back a deer and a few squirrels. When they were done there was about an hour before the party started. They started walking toward Barrington House so Daryl could get changed and Jesus and Maggie could catch up on the day.

“Y’know, I’m kind of excited for tonight.” Jesus said optimistically. “I never used to be the party type, but this feels more...I don’t know, comfortable, I guess.”

Daryl nodded. “Parties are different when they’re with family.”

“I don’t know, you seem like a total party animal.” Jesus nudged him and Daryl smirked back at him.

They walked into the house and said hi to Rick in the foyer.

Jesus started heading up the stairs and turned to Daryl. “I’ll find you at the party later.”

“See you then.” Daryl said back, and watched Jesus disappear into Maggie’s office.

“Hey, you’re gonna get drool on the floor if you don’t stop now,” Rick teased. Daryl snapped out of it and turned toward him.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Daryl huffed.

“Yeah, you do.” Rick smiled. “I know that look on you, Daryl. Remember?”

He shook his head and laughed under his breath. “Shut up, Grimes.”

The party was really, really nice. Everyone was gathered around a bonfire and there were tables of food setup all around. It was homey, and full of community. Daryl leaned against a tree and looked out over the crowd.

“Hey,” Jesus walked up to him then. He looked nice with his hair down as opposed to the bun he put it in when they were hunting. Even with the bun he looked good, which annoyed Daryl to no end. You couldn’t look that good all the time, it wasn’t fair.

“Hi,” Daryl replied. “How’s it goin’?”

“Pretty good, it was nice to shower after today. It really is too hot for that trenchcoat.” Jesus shook his head.

Daryl shrugged. “Could just get a vest.”

Jesus smiled. “Maybe. Yours does look pretty nice.”

“I bet it’d look nice on you,” Daryl smirked. “Too bad we’ll never know.”

“Harsh,” Jesus nudged him.

They joined the party once more, until the kids started to go to bed. The adults stuck around for a while, and everyone was still drinking and eating and having fun. After drinking a good amount of whiskey, Daryl and Jesus had a slight buzz going on. They were laughing together, maybe even flirting a bit, which Daryl didn’t normally know how to do, but with Jesus it was just easy.

Jesus turned to him at one point, and it was like everyone else fell away. He saw Jesus look at his lips, then look away quickly.

“Wanna go drink some more at my place?” he asked. Daryl would’ve been nervous, but the liquid courage helped with that. He was pretty sure he knew what this meant, why Jesus wanted to be alone with him.

“Yeah, I do.”

Back at the trailer, Jesus got two cups and poured some more whiskey for them. He handed Daryl a glass and took a sip of his own. They sat on the couch, Jesus sitting against the arm so he could face Daryl.

“That was pretty fun,” Jesus said. “Felt...normal.”

“Whatever that means,” Daryl sipped his drink. “But yeah, it was nice.”

“I’m glad you’re around more,” Jesus said after a few moments. “It’s really nice getting to see you.”

Daryl blushed and drank a good amount of his whiskey and put it on the table.

“I like bein’ around.” Daryl’s voice was low and gravelly, the alcohol relaxing him. “I like bein’ around you.”

Jesus was the one to blush now, but he seemed a little more confident. They were sitting closer together now, one of them could easily lean in to close the space. Jesus did, after a second of contemplating, and his lips were as soft as Daryl had imagined. Daryl pushed back a bit more, deepening the kiss, and one of his hands instinctively went to Jesus’ hip. Jesus put his hand on the back of Daryl’s neck, holding him there. Jesus pulled away first, putting his forehead against Daryl’s as they breathed each other in.

“Thank god,” Jesus laughed under his breath. “I wasn’t sure if that was going to go well.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes at Jesus. What was that supposed to mean? Did he expect the kiss to be bad?

“No! I mean—“ he put his hand on Daryl’s cheek and looked sincerely into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you liked me back. I didn’t know if you’d want me to kiss you or if it was going to freak you out.”

Daryl couldn’t fight the small grin on his face. “I’m glad you did. I didn’t know if you wanted it.”

“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page now.” Jesus smiled, and for the first time in a long time, Daryl felt like something was going right.

[codynaomiswireart]

Gauze in the Wound - Part 23

“..Suddenly you lose your way and lose the thread Lose your cool then lose your head Every loss is harder to excuse Then you’ll see you’ll lose your way and lose your soul Till you lose complete control And realize there’s nothing left to lose Nothing left to lose…” ~ Nothing Left to Lose by Alan Menken and Glenn Slater

“Well, if I were ‘You Know Who,’ I’d want you to feel cutoff from everyone else. Because if it’s just you alone, you’re not as much of a threat.” ~ Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

----------------------------------------------------------------

Pontus slowed to a halt, setting the apple down gently on the ground beside him as he took a much-needed drink from the stream trickling before him. Raising his head to look up at the stars, the water dribbled down the stag’s chin, and the creature caught his breath as he listened for their guidance.

“…There,” he thought as he zeroed in on the location in his mind, took hold of the precious fruit again, and went bounding over the border into Corona’s thick woods.

“Just a little bit longer…” the stag thought as the trees whipped passed him.

 --------------------------------------------------------------

“Just a little bit longer,” he thought to himself, pausing to peer up at the steep slope silhouetted against the night sky before him. He grinned, relishing the feeling of being back in a physical body. Though it wasn’t enough, of course. That’s why they were heading to this old, familiar location. He needed more, and here was where they would get it. They just had to open the veil a bit further, and his return would be complete.

“Do not worry, Puer Lunae,” the voice purred, feeling the form on the other end of the coil shiver in response. “This will all be over soon.” He adjusting the pack on his back, and continued his hike towards their destination, grinning as he threw the next jab with his words. “I promise…”

---------------------------------------------------------------

“Try again!” the Captain shouted, as several of the guards attempted to form a human ladder, and tried to hoist themselves over the jagged wall of black rocks. But the tall, steep, smooth sides of the rocks made the attempt difficult, and they only succeeded in one of the guards getting stuck between the crux of two rocks before being pulled back by his comrades, all of them falling in a clattering heap.

“Blast it!” the Captain yelled angrily, kicking a patch of dirt. “Is there any other way out of here?” “Sabine?” King Frederic asked urgently, the healer now seated on the stoop of her home, holding a bag of ice to her aching face. “Is there any way you can warp us out of here to another checkpoint? From there we could-”

But Sabine shook her head. “Alas your highness,” she replied sadly, “that last jump took up all the magic the house had charged up for that purpose. It’ll be another day at least before the house could get us to the next closest point, and I fear we may not have that kind of time. Given what just happened, I highly doubt that Varian intends to just kindly follow through on his end of the agreement.”

“Surely, there must be some way!” Arianna exclaimed as she sat down beside the healer, setting a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder, but also in clear distress. By now, thanks to Sabine’s smelling salts, the queen had largely recovered from the influence of the sleeping draught, and along with the others was now brainstorming about how best to figure out an escape plan to stop Varian from…whatever it was he was planning.

Xavier, meanwhile, sat off to the side, his brain reeling from the last fifteen minutes as everyone carried on around him. Varian had turned on them. Varian had betrayed them. Xavier had tried to help, and he had failed; made things even worse than they already had been. He knew from the moment Varian’s eyes met his that all rationality in the boy was gone, and only malice, pride, and hatred were there now.

What was he supposed to do…?

At least…at least he’d been able to help Varian forge a sword that could cut the amber, he supposed. If nothing else, perhaps there was a chance Varian really was just going to get Quirin back. Xavier regretted not being able to be there for Varian, especially if…if the worst outcome were to be true upon breaking open his father’s golden prison. If Quirin…if he were dead, that may indeed push Varian clear over the edge, and Corona may truly face a threat they were unable to stand up to. But if Quirin were alive, maybe there could be some hope for Varian after all. Varian may be an exile now, but perhaps he could finally find some closure and move on in peace. And perhaps Quirin would still be with him, and he wouldn’t be alone. Maybe he could find a new start in another place at another time, even if Xavier wasn’t to be a part of it.

…But if Quirin wasn’t all right…? If somehow things went badly…?

Xavier sighed, setting his head in his hands. He tried to think up ways of escape as well, and he had this horrible feeling like Sabine that they may not have much time. But it was so hard to think of anything right now. The blacksmith shut his eyes, laying his face in his hands, and silently praying for an answer. Just something – anything – to help would be ever so welcome right now.

…And then-

Xavier froze, his ears catching the sound of a sharp, muffled cry coming from somewhere nearby. Turning his head this way and that, Xavier tried hard to pinpoint the location of the sound.

“What the…?” Xavier thought, his heart pounding as he realized the sound was coming from inside the safehouse. Cautiously, Xavier went back inside, ignoring the confused looks of Donovan and Hilda as he skirted by them on the veranda; the two Saporians doing their best to stay out of all the drama unfolding around them. As Xavier got closer to the first-floor corridor, the cries became louder and clearer. Then, in a flash of recognition, Xavier ran as quick as he could for the door to Varian’s room, and stopped short when he found it locked up tight.

He could hear Ruddiger crying on the other side!

“Ruddiger!” Xavier shouted, hearing the raccoon go silent. “Ruddiger, get away from the door!”

After waiting a couple seconds, Xavier began shoving all of his weight into the door, the hinges creaking and the doorframe splintering a little as he did so.

“What in the-? Xavier!” the Captain called, having heard the commotion and coming to investigate. “What in the world do you think you’re do-!?”

The Captain’s words were cutoff as the door fell inward from its hinges with a crash, and Xavier knelt down as Ruddiger dashed over into the blacksmith’s arms, the little creature shivering and whimpering.

“What’s going on?” Frederic asked as he too came up from behind. “Xavier, what are you-?”

“It’s Ruddiger,” Xavier replied, trying to calm the quivering, distressed animal. “He was locked in Varian’s room.”

“Varian left him behind?” Arianna asked, surprised sadness in her voice as she came up behind her husband. “Oh, the poor thing!”

“For goodness sake Xavier!” Sabine managed to snap as she wove her way to the front of the increasingly crowded hallway, still holding the cold pack to her eye. “You could’ve just asked me for a key you know-!”

But Xavier tuned Sabine and the others out as Ruddiger began chittering frantically to him, and tugging on his sleeve for him to pay attention. Xavier’s heart began to pound hard again as he followed the raccoon back into Varian’s room. As Ruddiger got to the center of the room, the little creature sat down on his haunches, and began waving his paws about, and pointing at the ground in front of him.

Xavier frowned. “What is it Ruddiger? What’s wrong?”

Ruddiger repeated the motions, trying so hard to communicate. By now, the others also noticed the raccoon’s gestures, and everyone stared at him, confused. With a snort, Ruddiger then climbed up onto the dresser, pointing at the blank wall above it. Again, confused looks only met him.

Until-

“The mirror!” Arianna yelped, here eyes widening. “The mirror! It’s gone!”

The Captain looked at Arianna quizzically. “What are you talking about your highness?”

“Don’t you see?” Arianna said. “The outline bleeched on the wall by sunlight? A mirror used to be here! Sabine!” Arianna now turned to the healer. “Did you by chance do anything to the mirror in my room earlier this evening?”

“Certainly not!” Sabine replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Because earlier this evening a strange pattern was drawn in white on the mirror in my room. I would’ve asked you about it, but then…Well…”

Sabine blinked at Arianna with her one good eye, realization beginning to dawn upon her face. In a hurry, Sabine crossed the hallway to Arianna’s room and looked inside, pausing just in time before she stepped on the shards of reflective glass that covered the floor. Arianna’s mirror was shattered.

She had seen this magic before!

“Oh no…” Sabine whispered under her breath, and dashed towards the end of the hallway, dropping her cold pack as she went.

“What’s wrong Sabine?” Frederic asked as the healer pushed passed him. “What is-?” “Varian is here!” Sabine cried, reaching for a ring dangling down from a chord hanging from the ceiling. “Quick, Captain! If you could help me please!”

“Er, yes. Of course,” the Captain complied, though still clearly confused as a sturdy wooden ladder slid down from the opening to the attic, and Sabine scrambled up it and into the darkness beyond.

“Hurry!” Sabine called to him again over her shoulder, tossing aside an old tarp from a large, verticle mirror. Sabina grunted with exertion as she scooted it across the attic floor. “Help me get this to Varian’s room!”

“But, why?” the Captain asked, though continuing to do as Sabine asked as he helped lift one end.

“Varian is here!” Sabine repeated as they moved down the ladder. “Well, in a sort of way. But he may not be for much longer! We have to move fast!”

“What do you mean, Sabine?” Arianna asked, as she, Frederic, and Xavier all moved to help get the mirror over into the room. “We all saw Varian leave-”

“If my hunch is correct,” Sabine interrupted, directing them to set the mirror down at the far end of the room, “that wasn’t actually Varian that we saw.”

Frederic raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean by that Sabine? Who else could it have been?”

“Not who, your majesty,” Sabine said ominously. “But what.”

As everyone only stared at her in response, Sabine instructed them all to stand with her at the other end of the room, well away from the tall mirror. As Xavier felt Ruddiger scurry up his form and cling tightly to his shoulders, Sabine stretched a hand forward towards the mirror, and chanted another spell.

“Speculum speculum, alium se orbem terrarium ad ianuam, aperi!”

For a moment, various colors rippled across the mirror’s surface, and the reflection of the room in which they stood became distorted. Then, once it had settled down again, everyone stared at the dark reflection of the room that now greeted them…and gasped as they also saw something else there that shouldn’t have been.

“Varian!” Xavier cried, as he saw the boy laying in the center of the floor of the dark reflection, his face buried in his arms, glowing green vines coiled round his wrists and ankles like chains, and the tendrils extending back into the shape of a second mirror (the mirror that had been missing from Varian’s room in fact) that glowed ominously with the same eerie light. Varian didn’t appear to have heard Xavier, nor take any notice of the new gateway that had formed nearby him.

Xavier wasn’t sure if this was because Varian was asleep…or maybe dead.

“No no no, stop!” Sabine yelped, holding everyone back with outstretched arms as several of them made to move forward. “Everyone, keep away from the mirror!”

“What on earth is going on Sabine?” Xavier asked, feeling Ruddiger grip his shoulders even tighter as the creature let out a frightened trill. “What are we looking at? Is that really-?”

Sabine nodded. “I’m afraid so. Varian – the real Varian – has been trapped inside the world of the mirror.” “Trapped?” Arianna gasped. “In the mirror? But how?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” said Sabine. “But I can tell you this. Whoever or whatever has trapped Varian in there has replaced him with a shadow double; an evil doppelgänger created via his reflection in the dark mirror. I have seen this kind of magic once before, and it is a very evil thing to conjure. I suspect that the dark magic Pontus had sensed in Varian before has something to do with it. It’s also clear to me that this interloper somehow arranged to have all of the other sizable mirrors in the house shattered so we couldn’t access it ourselves, should we have figured out this trick. I’ll admit, it was well disguised; making it look like the mirrors shattered due to the magic of the house going haywire, as opposed to deliberately placed destruction circles. Fortunately, her majesty noticed the destruction circle drawn on her own mirror beforehand, which all but confirms this theory to me.” “Well thank goodness we still have this mirror,” Arianna said. “Then what are we waiting for?” the Captain asked, making another move as if to approach the mirror. “Let’s get him out!”

“Careful!” Sabine warned again, blocking the Captain’s way. “If you get too close to the mirror, your own reflection will spaun another evil doppelgänger. And we don’t want to have to face any more foes than we need to.” “So, what do we do?” Arianna asked. “How can we get him out without getting close?” “I’m not sure,” Sabine replied, now rubbing her forehead, hard in thought. “The only way I know of to breach the barrier is to swap places with your doppelgänger, but if we tried that- And with Varian’s own double now far away, he couldn’t even- Oh, kettles and cobblestones! Think Sabine! Think! There must be some way-!”

It was at this moment that Xavier noticed a crucial detail as he looked into the mirror again. While everyone’s reflections showed dimly in it (though not strong enough to spaun any evil twins)…there was one whose reflection was missing. Xavier had to look on his shoulder to make sure Ruddiger was indeed still there, as the creature’s reflection was somehow absent from the dark mirror. Xavier then had a wild, crazy, but not totally unfounded idea form in his mind. If Ruddiger could sense and hear Varian from beyond their world, and if his own reflection wasn’t present in the mirror, and if he’d been able to traverse such planes of existence not long before and bring Varian back…? “Hold on tight to me,” Xavier whispered to Ruddiger, and took a step forward. “Xavier!?” Sabine cried as the man suddenly strode by her, and she reached out to grab onto him. But as her hands closed before her, they closed not on the fibers of Xavier’s clothes, but around the wood of his walking stick as he held it out towards her. “What’re y-?” “Hold my cane,” Xavier said sternly, and then unfalteringly walked right up to the cursed mirror, and reached forward.

-------------------------------------------------

…He had been such an idiot…

Varian sniffed, curling in on himself tighter. Everything hurt. His head, his stomach, his eyes, his throat, his pride, his heart…Everything hurt. He was thirsty, but of course there was no water here. He would’ve been hungry too, if despair hadn’t engulfed his hunger pains with a pain all its own. He’d taken the devil’s poison, and it left him empty.

Varian thought he’d hit rock bottom before when he’d been down in the dungeons that night after his trial. Little did he know then. No, this was truly rock bottom now. He thought he felt helpless before? No, this was true helplessness. He was down a deep, dark hole now, with no way out…and he only had himself to blame.

Varian shuddered as he remembered it all. He remembered how quick he had been to trust the man who looked so much like his father, and who promised him a way to go back. To be fair, the man had shared with him theories and equations that made it all sound entirely possible. All they would have to do was harness the power of the Moon Drop in Varian, channel it under certain conditions, and they could cut a rift into time and space itself – make all that had caused Varian so much grief go away. Start over. Stop all disaster from ever happening, and all would be well again. All would be normal again. All would be happy again. “I dunno…” Varian had said, seated next to those rosy flames. “What…what would happen if we did that? I mean, what if we-? Could we…could we really go back and change things?” “But of course!” the man had said, having a helping of food and drink himself, then passing some over to Varian. “Why else would I be here in the first place, if not for a rift in time and space? Or don’t tell me you believe in ghosts. And you understand the physics, right? Is it not sound?” “I’ll admit that it’s theoretically possible,” Varian had said, slowly but surely picking up the vial handed to him. As his thoughts churned on the subject at hand, and under the gaze of such familiar features, Varian hardly thought about what he had been doing as he began to raise the vial to his lips. “But…that’s only if this…magic…does what you say it will. I mean, there’s no force on Earth that could have those kinds of effects without catastrophic consequences resulting from it.” “True,” the man had said, then gave Varian a smile that he supposed, in retrospect, was meant to give Varian that final jab of pride to throw all caution to the wind. “…But, then again, the Moon Stone is not of this Earth, is it? And you are the one who can wield it. If you’ll let me show you how…”

That was when Varian began to feel his inhibitions about the situation melt away. This was everything he had ever wanted. Or, at least, on the cusp of everything he wanted. It was the next closest thing to his father telling him that he was proud of him, and it was offering him a way out of everything. “Well, cheers to that idea!” Varian had thought, finally downing the first sip of what had been handed to him.

…Little did he realize what exactly had been handed to him, and by whom.

Varian knew he had begun to feel awful soon afterward. Those constant pains in his head and his gut – he had wanted to chalk it all up to the residual effects of his assertions during the battle with the Saporians. But no. While all that had certainly hurt him, these pains were something else in their own right, and had a different source spurring them on.

Too bad he had realized the truth too late.

Fear, anger, pride – all three could be awful drugs. They blurred one’s rationality, made you do things you would regret in your sober hours, and yet demand to be fed all the same. Somehow, despite knowing this deep down, you comply anyway. It feels good at first, Varian knew. It was a relief in a way. He would feel justified. Perhaps even a bit noble. Perhaps a bit cleansed as he felt at liberty to vent all the ugliness piling up in his soul on those he targeted with the blame. But once the rush was over, that dull ache would come back again, and he was left asking himself, again and again, “What have I done…? Why did I do that…? Why did I say that…?” What a fool he had been! Varian felt a fresh pang of shame as he thought about how he allowed that Shade to instruct him on making preparations, and drawing the circles on the mirrors. In one sense, the man hadn’t lied. He had told Varian that all this would allow him to cast a spell that would allow him to become more manifest, and thus be of more use when they arrived in Corona.

But despite the words not being exactly false, they were still meant to deceive.

Varian remembered the terror and confusion he had felt when he had reached forward to draw on his own mirror with the enchanted chalk (taken from Sabine’s own supplies of course), and found his own reflection grabbing him before he could even make the first mark. Varian would’ve cried out, but before he could do anything, he was pulled through the looking glass, and lay stunned as he looked up at the likeness to himself, sneering down at him with red, glowing eyes.

“Aaah!” Varian had cried, shuffling back away from the horrible apparition. Then, he felt himself bump up against another form at his back. “Oh, thank goodness!” he thought in momentary relief.

“D-Demanitus!” Varian exclaimed, scrambling to his feet, and then hiding partially behind the man’s form, still looking in terror at the thing standing before him. “Wh-what is that!? What did I-? I-I don’t understa-!” But Varian stopped, his voice dying in his throat. He staggered back, wide-eyed and pale, as he stared up at the face that looked down at him. The man – Demanitus – no longer wore a face like his father’s. The mask had now dropped. In its place, was the face of a demon.

In a flash, the demon shape lunged itself at the other Varian, appearing for a moment to be a shooting cloud of dark mist. As the mist collided into the false-Varian, Varian watched in horror as the creature twisted, writhed, and groaned as parasite merged with its host. Varian could only stand there, staring, heart pounding, and breath rapid. What was happening? “Rrraah,” the creature eventually moaned, stretching twitching limbs, and cracking the stiffness in its neck and wrists. Worst of all, as it began to speak, Varian heard it talk in his own voice. “Mmm…Yes, yes! Not ideal, clearly. But it’ll do. For now.” As the creature then turned to look at Varian, grinning wickedly, Varian felt a shock of horror surge through him. In a panic, Varian made a desperate rush for the mirror through which he’d been pulled into this place. The next thing Varian knew, he was sent flying flat onto his back, stunned. He’d crashed headlong into the mirror’s surface, and it did not give way.

“No…” Varian breathed, and sprang back up, shoving and pouding and scratching desperately at the mirror’s surface, but it would not yield. “NO! NO NO! L-LET ME OUT!” Varian screamed. “LET ME OUT! RUDDIGER! XAVIER! ANYONE! PLEASE! HELP ME!” “It’s too late, Puer Lunae.” Varian whirled round, coming face-to-face with the monster – his dark reflection. It then grabbed him by the front of his shirt, lifting him off the ground with inhuman strength. Varian tried to get it to let go of him, but it was no use. The monster then threw Varian across the dark room, slamming him into the opposite wall.

Varian lay there a moment, struggling to breathe after the air had been knocked out of him. As he tried to rise, Varian felt himself shoved back down by a heel between his shoulderblades, pinning him to the ground.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast,” the voice tutted him from above. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself more before the big event, now would you?”

It was at this moment that Varian’s “flight” instincts turned to “fight,” and before he could think to do anything else, Varian gripped at the floor hard with his fingers, causing several black rocks to spring up around him from the ground. Startled, the figure holding him down jumped away, allowing Varian the freedom to get up onto his knees. As he did so, Varian extended a hand forward, giving out a caterwaul as he sent a stream of black rocks at the monster. Unfortunately, his enemy seemed to be ready for this attack. As he dodged the oncoming spires, a twisting, slithering mass of glowing green shot forward, and coiled itself tightly around Varian’s wrist.

In alarm, Varian summoned more black rocks with his other hand, but that one too got entangled in the monster’s cursed tendrils. A moment later, Varian’s limbs were all bound, and he could only lay there helplessly as the creature again came and stood above him.

“Ah, good. You’ve been recovering nicely,” it said. “This will make things easier. We won’t have to wait as long as I had feared. We can begin immediately when we arrive!” “Wha-…wh-what are you talking about!?” Varian asked, his brain reeling. “I-I don’t understand! Demanitus, y-you said-! We were supposed to-!” “Oh, you really are a foolish child,” the un-man said, and Varian winced as its puppet body ragdolled forward at the torso, and the ghostly apparition of the demon emerged from its back. Now, it spoke in its own, gravely voice.

“I suppose in all his lessons your teacher neglected to tell you about my kind. Such a pity. In case it wasn’t obvious to you by now, I can take on any form that suits my needs. A warlock…” Here the form shifted back to its Demanitus appearance. “A demon, as you have seen. A child…” Now its form now shifted to that of a little girl. This form Varian found particularly unsettling, especially as the demon’s interpretation somehow resulted in the child having disturbingly large eyes and a long, twisted, Cheshire-cat grin. “And…even a blizzard.” Varian’s eyes went wide as those last words sank in. “Wait…Y-you!? You were-!?”

The creature giggled – though a haunting, deranged sort of child giggling which made Varian’s skin crawl – and resumed its position inside of the puppet body. As the creature snapped back to life, it knelt down by Varian, grabbing him by the hair with one hand, forcing Varian to look up at it.

“Zhan Tiri? Perhaps you’ve heard of me? Maybe your silly teacher mentioned me during one of your silly lessons.” For several seconds, Varian could only feel terror flood through him as it all began to sink in. Having grown up in Corona, Varian had of course heard the legends of Lord Demanitus, and his battles against the supposed dark creature from the netherworld that had tried to destroy the kingdom in its early days. Like most tales of such spectacular things, Varian had believed them to be mere myth. Or exaggerated tales of something that happened long ago at best. As such, the stories seemed to hold little to no relevance for his own personal life. He had no reason to give them much thought before.

But now-

“N-no!” Varian yelped. “I-I-it’s not true! It’s not true! You’re not real! You were just a- Aah!”

The monster chuckled as Varian’s face twisted in pain as it pulled harder on his hair. “Just a what? A fairytale? A myth? A legend?”

Varian didn’t respond back, only looking back at Zhan Tiri with frightened eyes as he remembered Xavier’s words. “All legends are born of truth.”

But it wasn’t fair! Where was the evidence? Where was the warning? How was he supposed to have known or prepared for a demon suddenly popping up out of nowhere!?

“No!” Varian insisted again. “It doesn’t make sense! Why would you be here, and why now?”

“Were you not paying attention?” the apparition said, finally releasing Varian, who continued to lay helpless on the floor as the un-man paced about in front of him. “Did you not agree with me that the power of the Moon Drop can cause rifts in time and space? I have been waiting centuries for it to finally be awakened enough for me to…slip through one of the cracks.” The creature stretched out an arm, twisting its wrist about, joints crackling. “Of course, I could only project a portion of my soul into the world with a warp that small. I would need something a bit more…substantial if I was to make any sort of progress.”

The creature eyed Varian with an evil, sideways glance. “Too bad you didn’t kill that Saporian spy when you had the chance. It wouldn’t have come to this if you had.”

Varian felt like he was going to be sick. Was this monster really talking about…?

And was he going to-…!?

“A-are you going to kill me?” Varian asked, not even trying to hide the squeakiness of his voice, nor the half-sob that escaped him as the idea passed through his mind.

“…No,” the un-man said, though Varian only felt minimal relief at this. Zhan Tiri had lied to him before after all. The monster smiled. “Fortunately for you – and your comrades as well – I was able to find another way around that problem, as you just witnessed yourself.”

Varian swallowed hard as he recalled what he had seen only moments before.

“I cannot take over a body that still contains a soul, and to kill you would also sever the powers within you. And I still have need of those powers. As I said, the Moon Drop can affect time and space, and as much as I would love to fool around with all of the idiotic citizens of Corona while wearing your face a while longer…” the creature snickered at its own thoughts. “I would very much like to be getting back my original body as soon as possible.” The un-man looked down at Varian. “And you will help me get it back. You will allow me to finally return to this world.”

Varian shook his head. “No! Y-y-you’re wrong!” he shouted. “What makes you think I’d ever help you? You can’t make me! I won’t do it!”

Zhan Tiri stared down at Varian, and for a moment, Varian thought he had actually pointed out a flaw in the demon’s plans. “Of course!” he thought. If it all depended on Varian’s cooperation, he could just say no, and that was it! Check mate! Zhan Tiri couldn’t go any further!

But-

“Oh, you won’t, will you?” the demon then asked, a purr returning to his voice as he raised a hand. “I’m afraid you already have,” and the monster clenched his hand into a tight fist.

“What-?”

Varian suddenly curled in on himself as he felt a sharp, aching pain wrap itself around his heart, and a low humming sound filled his brain. He cried out as it all came flooding out of him – anger, bitterness, grief, hatred, pride; all those feelings that had haunted him since that terrible day, and all the thoughts that came with them. At the same time, Varian felt magic prickle through his veins, and behind closed eyelids he could tell the air got brighter around him. He then heard the sound of the ground crunching nearby him a couple times, until finally the sensation let him go.

As Varian lay there panting, he opened his eyes, looking up to see several new black rocks protruding from the ground next to him. He also saw his shadow-self looking back at him with satisfaction, its own eyes and hair glowing a slight blue-silver.

“A bit of my own concoction, if you will recall” the creature replied smugly to Varian’s unspoken questions, and recalling to mind the vial and the food from before. “It is good fun to play on people’s hunger and thirst for anger, revenge, all that sort of thing. Easy too. So long as I’ve got you here…” The un-man’s glowing vines tightened harder around Varian’s limbs. “Combined with my bonding serum, you are my puppet on strings. I can use your powers as I please.”

Varian grit his teeth, struggling again for a moment. But he was getting so tired now, and helplessness began to weigh in on him.

“Oh, don’t look so down,” Zhan Tiri said mockingly, casually stepping over him to the mirror gateway. “You and I have similar goals, after all. We both want justice, do we not? We both want Corona to pay, right? We want her royals and all her useless citizens to hear us?”

Varian didn’t respond. He just lay there, still feeling the sticky-sweet sensation of his self-righteousness throbbing in his chest. Maybe…maybe Zhan Tiri was right. He remembered the rage that had burned within him when he’d been denied, ignored, abandoned, and locked away. He remembered the bitter glee of finally having the upper hand on those who had wronged him. He remembered the allure of the rush that came with lashing out at those who had wronged him, even to the point of violence. Surely, if it felt right…

And yet… And yet…

It wasn’t all so sweet anymore. It had been sweet when those whom he had hurt had been mere objects in his mind; just pawns in the grand game of good and bad that he had to win. But was he himself not offended at the idea of being seen as merely a pawn? And good and bad!? What did he know about them? At the very least, as Varian thought of the faces of Xavier, Friedborg, Arianna, the Captain, Pete and Stan, and all the rest – did he really think himself such a good person that he could place himself as their Judge?

…But it was too late. Zhan Tiri had a hold of him now.

“Mm. So be it,” the Shade finally said as Varian continued to remain silent. It stepped through the mirror gate to the other side, the glowing green vines continuing to extend through from its back, keeping Varian tethered to it. The monster took a deep breath as it came through, spreading its arms. “Ah, another step achieved!” it sighed, then spied Varian’s sword leaning against the fireplace. Picking it up, the un-man weighed the blade and scabbard in his hands, then strapped it around his waist. Finally, it picked up a nerby blanket, giving Varian one last, sneering, mocking look as it began to drape it over the mirror.

“Come now, Puer Lunae. Destiny awaits us!”

--------------------------------------------------

“Destiny,” Varian thought with absolute misery as his thoughts came back to the present. He’d heard people talk about destiny before, mostly Xavier and Rapunzel – a wisened blacksmith and a magical princess. Of course, destiny would be an appealing prospect for them. Their kind were always the heros in all the stories, always the ones to break through to the light of day.

But for someone like Varian? Perhaps “moon child” was a fitting title for him. Destined to always be in the dark no matter what he did. To never be free from it. To never break out and see the sun.

“…It’s all over now…” was all Varian could think to himself as he buried his face further into his arms, feeling utterly defeated.

He had failed… Again…

…Then-

Varian’s head shot up as out of nowhere he suddenly heard the sounds of fighting. For a moment, Varian thought he was hallucinating or dreaming as he saw a large, moving shape in silhouette against a large, oval light that had somehow appeared a few feet away. Then, as he continued to look, Varian realized it wasn’t one large shape, but two. And they were men! Two men, wrestling and fighting with one another! And not just any men, but Xavier! Two of him! And…Ruddiger!? Was Ruddiger clinging to the shoulders of one of them??

Varian had no idea how to respond as the two Xavier’s grappled with one another. He could only watch wide-eyed as they pushed, tugged, grabbed, and even threw a punch at one another here and there. Had he gone insane? Or was Zhan Tiri feeding him more illusions to mess with him?

After a minute or two, one of the Xavier’s appeared to gain the upper hand (the one with Ruddiger on his shoulder), and after getting a firm grip on the other, sent his opponent sprawling back out into the light. Varian then heard him shout something after the fallen Xavier, something that sounded like, “Keep him down! I’ll get him!”

What in the name of Herz der Sonne was going on??

Varian then froze, frightened as the Xavier on this side of the light turned towards him, then went running at him (or, at least, running as well as his clear limp would allow).

“X-Xav-?” Varian barely managed to say before he found himself scooped up into a tight hug in those strong, familiar arms, and heard a familiar chattering noise at his side.

“Oh Varian, thank heavens!” Xavier voice thundered in his ear. “It’s ok! It’s going to be ok! Are you hurt? I’m here now! I’ve got you! You’re going to be all right!”

[crossbowking]

That’s My Girl (Part 2)

(Click HERE to read That’s My Girl Part 1)

Requested By: @justrepostandlove

Summary: While scavenging for supplies in preparation for war against The Governor, Glenn, Daryl, and Y/N run into some bad people with even worse intentions.

A/N: I have a lot of thoughts to share about this story, but I’ll wait until the end. Thank you eternally.

xx crossbowking

Previously...

Daryl heard movement before he saw it — he heard a soft grunt…he heard the slight scraping of metal…he heard the squeak of a boot being dragged across the tile…

But by the time Daryl spun around, he was too late.

All he could do was watch in horror as Billy launched his blood-soaked body at Y/N, knocking her backward onto the ground before he raised his arm and plunged her missing knife into the soft flesh of her thigh.

Now...

Daryl didn’t think.

He felt the logical side of himself shut down and pure animal instinct take over as he aimed his crossbow at Billy’s head and pulled the trigger without a second thought. He felt no sympathy as his bolt lodged itself into the center of the man’s forehead. He felt no remorse as he fell, slack-jawed and wide-eyed onto the ground.

All he could focus on was the sudden gut-wrenching screams coming from Y/N.

Daryl threw his crossbow down and dropped beside Y/N, her face crumpled in agony as her shaking hands hovered over the center of her thigh, where the hilt of her blade was still sticking out. He pushed away any feelings of rage or fear, shut down any hints of weakness or panic and forced himself to remain calm.

Glenn appeared on the other side of Y/N a moment later, his face pale and taut as he surveyed the damage done to her leg.

“What’d we do?” Daryl snapped, speaking to Glenn but unable to take his eyes away from the blood spilling from Y/N’s open flesh.

“I-I…I don’t — I don’t think —” Glenn fumbled for the right words, racking his brain for an answer he couldn’t provide.

“Hey!” Daryl barked, his gaze locking with Glenn’s. “What the hell do we do? Hershel’s gotta’ve taught ya somethin’ useful!”

“I don’t know, man!” Glenn fired back, running a hand over his face. “We need to stop the bleeding — we need to get her back to Hershel.”

“D-Daryl,” Y/N grimaced, her entire body going rigid. “Take it out. P-Please, God, take the knife out!” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut as the remaining color in her face slipped away.

Daryl immediately reached for the knife, desperate to stop Y/N from being in any more pain, but Glenn grabbed his wrist just before he could wrap his fingers around the handle. He opened his mouth to protest, but Glenn quickly interjected. “We can’t,” he hissed under his breath.

“Why the hell not?” Daryl demanded, ripping his hand from Glenn’s.

“Look where the knife is, man,” he urged, taking a second to inspect the injury himself. “I don’t know much, but there’s a major artery right where that knife is. If we take the knife out and that artery’s been severed…” Glenn paused, his haunted eyes raising to meet Daryl’s. “She’ll bleed out before we make it home.”

Daryl felt the blood drain from his face, Y/N’s wounded cries mirroring his own internal anguish. How could he have let this happen? How had he not realized that Billy was still alive? Why hadn’t he intervened sooner? He’d had a gut feeling that something horrible was going to happen and it did. And now Y/N was paying the price.

This was his fault.

Y/N’s stark red blood stood out against the white tile floor, the puddle forming beneath her thigh growing with each moment that passed. Her cries had turned into soft whimpers, her body shaking violently every few seconds, her eyes squeezed shut, face contorted as she tried to breathe through the agony.

Daryl had never felt so helpless in his entire life. It felt as though someone had reached inside his chest and grabbed his heart, squeezing it in the palm of their hand until it disintegrated into nothingness. He couldn’t look at the red liquid inching towards him, couldn’t look at Y/N’s tormented expression, couldn’t look at the hilt of her knife still sticking out of her thigh.

So instead, he closed his eyes.

Time stood still for a moment — the blood pounding in Daryl’s ears imitating the steady thumping of a drum, his gut churning to the beat of Y/N’s quieted sobs, the overwhelming scent of blood — bitter like iron — wafting up his nostrils. It was almost too much for him to bear and he began to feel as though the store’s walls were closing in on him, threatening to crush him and the only thing left in this world that he truly loved…the only thing he truly loved?

The sudden notion caught Daryl off guard.

Was that what this feeling was called? Love? The thought had come so naturally — the stabbing reality that he might be on the cusp of losing the person he loved. Was that what it meant? The innate need to protect. The deep-seated desire to hold. The inherent demand to soothe. Daryl wasn’t sure he’d ever loved anything before, so why her? Why now? Why was the woman he loved bleeding out in front of him on the floor of a dirty marketplace? That didn’t seem right. None of this seemed right.

Time regained momentum when Daryl felt a shaking hand wrap around his own. His eyes shot open, locking with Y/N’s teary, fearful gaze as she squeezed his hand a little tighter.

And Daryl knew right then and there, in that very moment, that there was no way in hell he was about to let Y/N slip through his fingers.

Daryl didn’t think.

He shot up to his feet, ignoring the way his hands trembled as he undid the clasp of his belt and slid it off his hips. A sudden thump drew his attention to the front store windows — he felt his heartbeat quicken when he spotted a mass of walkers spread out along the glass, concealing the view of the parking lot, eyeing the three survivors hungrily as they pressed against the entrance.

“Oh shit,” Glenn cursed, expression panicked.

“Get the car,” Daryl immediately growled, dropping to his knees once more beside Y/N.

Glenn faltered. “What?”

“Get the god damn car an’ bring it ‘round back!” the archer snapped, slipping his belt behind Y/N’s thigh, wincing when she cried out softly. “M’ sorry. Ya jus’ hang on, girl. Ya gon’ be okay,” he murmured to her, reaching up to brush back the hair that had fallen over her face before taking a breath and looking up at Glenn. “Slip out the back door. Go ‘round the other side a’ the building. There’s a row a’ trees ya can cut through ta’ avoid the biters,” he urged as he tightened the belt buckle a few inches above the injury in an attempt to slow the bleeding. “Get the car an’ bring it ‘round back. Go.”

Glenn nodded quickly, jumping to his feet and jogging to the back end of the store. Daryl watched as he peeked through the exit, ensuring the coast was clear before he bolted from the store and out of sight. Daryl took a deep breath, gritting his teeth together as he clasped the belt buckle as tight as it would go, his heart breaking as he elicited another pained gasp from Y/N. “M’ sorry, m’ sorry. S’alright, girl,” he soothed.

“Daryl…” she winced, gnashing her teeth to stop from crying out.

“Jus’ me an’ you, now. I got ya,” he murmured, taking her hand in his as he surveyed the walkers outside.

“Hurts,” she whimpered. He hated how small she sounded, how weak she was getting. He hated everything about the stupid fucking situation they’d suddenly found themselves in.

“I know,” he rumbled, despite the panic threatening to crush him. “S’ gonna be okay. I ain’t gon’ let nothin’ happen ta’ ya.” Nothin’ else, ya mean, a cruel voice in the back of his head sounded.

Y/N nodded shakily, training her eyes on the ceiling of the market, her teeth chattering as the effects of blood loss began to take over. “T-Talk to me,” she suddenly grimaced as another vicious shiver racked through her, the force of it causing her to flinch as the knife shifted inside her.

Daryl paused, shaking his head slightly. “What’d ya want me ta’ say?” he murmured helplessly, feeling her fingers tighten around his, ignoring the rush of heat that flushed his skin.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly, body stiffening in attempt to keep the next wave of pain at bay. “Just t-talk to me. D-Distract me,” she chattered, forcing a small smile onto her lips as she craned her neck towards him.

Daryl sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment as the thumping outside started getting louder and louder. He felt a pit begin to grow in his stomach and sent a silent urge to Glenn to pick up the damn pace. Those storefront windows weren’t going to keep that herd back for much longer. He was already beginning to see cracks in the glass forming along the edges. “Shit,” he growled, before focusing on Y/N. “We gotta move. M’ sorry.”

Y/N’s expression furrowed. “W-Why do you keep saying that?”

Daryl faltered. “Huh?”

“You keep apologizing,” she clarified, wincing slightly.

Daryl didn’t miss how the words at the tail end of her sentence began slurring together. Instead of responding to her question, he braced himself to relocate Y/N towards the back door, where Glenn would be bringing the car any moment now. He slipped his crossbow over his shoulder, along with his pack before kneeling in front of Y/N. “We can talk all ya want after Hershel takes a look at ya,” he finally vowed, expression fierce.

But Y/N just looked up at him sadly. “Might not make it back,” she whispered weakly.

“Stop,” Daryl immediately shot back, the words slipping through his lips almost instantly. “I’m gettin’ ya home. Now, ya jus’ hang on, girl.”

Then, without another word, Daryl slipped one arm behind Y/N’s back and the other beneath her knees, hefting her off the group in one swift motion. She cried out in agony as her leg jostled, grabbing a fistful of his leather vest in her hand as he maneuvered her to the opposite end of the store.

Once he reached the other side, he set her down gently, propping her up in a seated position with her back pressed against the doorframe. A thin sheen of sweat coated her forehead, her breathing coming out heavier than normal, her skin even paler than before. Daryl feared she was seconds from passing out but then suddenly, her eyes widened, a horrified expression crossing her features as she looked not at him…but behind him.

A moment later, a deafening crash sounded throughout the store and Daryl whipped his head around, watching as one of the glass pane windows shattered open and a cluster of walkers began stumbling inside.

The first wave of walkers started feasting on Wade — Daryl wasn’t sure if the man was already dead from the beating he’d gotten or simply unconscious. Either way, as soon as the biters began ripping the flesh from his exposed skin, it didn’t matter anymore. He was gone.

The second wave of the dead swarmed around Billy’s body, the mass of them concealing him from view as they feasted.

Daryl didn’t think.

He uttered every curse word he could think of as he jumped to his feet and pulled out Wade’s gun, still tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He fired at the third wave of walkers who’d set their sights on the remaining live survivors. Five bullets found a home inside of the brains of five biters before the gun’s chamber emptied.

It felt as though his body was on autopilot as he slung his crossbow off his shoulder and began reloading it. He huffed a breath as he fired a bolt at an approaching dead one, feeling that familiar sense of satisfaction as the biter fell to the floor, an arrow through its skull. The crossbow reload time was slowing him down, so he opted for the hunting knife stashed in his pack’s side pocket. He glanced over his shoulder at Y/N as he reached for his weapon, noticing how her skin was nearly translucent, except for the streaks of blood covering her body. Her gaze met his, wide-eyed and terrified — so Daryl pushed aside his growing fears, shot her a determined nod, and simply positioned his body protectively in front of hers.

But there were just too many biters. For every two Daryl took down, three more took their place, hungrily clawing at him, attempting to tear into his flesh. His chest was heaving, lungs tightening, body aching, but he refused to give up. He prayed to whatever higher power was out there — if there even was any higher power out there — to help him get through this, to help him get Y/N out of here alive.

And then suddenly, in the next instance, he saw something that sent a jolt of hope through him — he spotted Glenn peeling through the parking lot like a bat out of hell, blaring the car horn to attract the dead infiltrating the storefront. His attempts luckily worked, distracting most of the walkers, who turned their attention in pursuit of the roaring vehicle and began ambling out of the store. Daryl felt a weight lift off his chest as the small horde in front of him became much more manageable. He watched Glenn disappear from sight, veering the car towards the back of the store.

But all it took was that moment — that single, solitary moment of distraction — and one biter made its attack. Daryl felt its cold, rotted hands twist around his limbs, the weight of the onslaught knocking him clean off his feet and onto his back before he even had a chance to take a breath. A rush of air escaped his lips as a heaviness settled over his chest. He lifted his head up, only to come nose to nose with one of the most grotesque walkers he’d ever seen, its jaws snapping wildly, vying for a taste of his flesh.

A swell of panic overcame him as he began flailing his arms and legs, trying to maneuver his knife for a counter attack, but to no avail — still, he kept fighting, grunting from the exertion, desperate for the release.

A mist of hot, putrid air filled his nose as the biter laying on top of him opened its mouth, unhinged its jaw, and launched a fatal bite towards the exposed flesh of his neck…

But then, he heard a blood-curdling scream and the walker on top of him stilled.

He faltered, feeling his breath catch in his throat as he craned his neck, struggling to push the dead weight off his body — and that’s when he saw it.

A knife embedded into the walker’s brain — Y/N’s knife.

And Daryl felt his stomach drop. He scrambled out from beneath the biter, roughly shoving it to the side. He sat up quickly, his gaze immediately landing on Y/N — she was splayed out beside him, crying softly, curled inwardly, fingers wrapped around the now visible gash on her thigh. “No, no, no,” he murmured in horror as the amount of blood spilling out of Y/N’s thigh increased like a river that had overflowed. “No! Damn it, Y/N, what did ya do? What did ya do, damn it! What did ya do!” he demanded wildly, although the answer was clear as day.

She’d saved his life. She’d ripped that knife out of her thigh and plunged it into the brain of the walker that had attacked him. She’d saved him.

And the cost of that sacrifice could very well be her life.

Daryl didn’t think.

“Shit!” he swore, rushing to Y/N’s side and pressing down on the gushing wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding.

An abrupt gunshot snapped his gaze up towards the back door where he saw Glenn suddenly appear, firing his pistol at the incoming walkers. “We gotta go!” he shouted in a panic, shooting at a biter that was about to swipe at Y/N’s outstretched leg.

Daryl growled under his breath, slipping an arm beneath Y/N’s knees and behind her back, quickly lifting her off the ground. She cried out from the sudden movement, but Daryl pushed forward, hurrying through the back door. Glenn laid down some cover fire as he backed out of the store, right on the archer’s heels, slamming the door to the market shut behind him.

“Door!” Daryl snapped, waiting until Glenn scrambled to open the back door of the car, allowing Daryl to maneuver himself into the backseat, Y/N still cradled in his arms.

The archer inched forward until he was able to reach behind and slam the door shut as Glenn threw himself into the driver’s seat. The door to the market flew open as a river of walkers began pouring out, banging their fists against the car windows. But within seconds, Glenn had the car lurching forward, speeding out of the parking lot, leaving the horde of the dead behind.

Daryl adjusted himself in the cramped backseat, pressing his back against the car door and propping Y/N up between his legs, her back resting against his chest. “Alright, alright, ya with me, girl?” he murmured, slightly out of breath, wrapping one arm around her waist to keep her from jostling and the other reaching down her thigh to apply pressure on the oozing injury.

“Uh huh,” she mumbled meekly, words slurred as her head bobbed up and down.

“How long ’til we get there?” Daryl growled, staring at Glenn through the rearview mirror.

“Twenty minutes,” Glenn replied as he tightened his grip around the wheel, brows furrowed as he shot Y/N a worried look. “Maybe more.”

Daryl huffed a breath. “Make it ten,” he demanded, turning his attention back to Y/N’s trembling body as Glenn applied more force to the accelerator, the car barreling forward even faster. “How we doin’ here, huh? C’mon, talk ta’ me, Y/N,” he urged, tightening the belt strapped around her upper thigh before slipping his hand into his back pocket for the red rag he always kept tucked there, using the material in an attempt to slow the blood flow.

“Tired,” she murmured, her head lolling against Daryl’s shoulder.

“I need ya ta’ stay awake for me, alright? We’re almost there,” he coaxed anxiously, wondering if he sounded as scared as he felt.

Y/N seemed to find a bit of strength and tilted her head up to look at Daryl, their faces inches apart, simply taking the other in for a long, silent moment. “W-Wanna know a secret?” she suddenly murmured, eyes dropping tiredly, lips chapped and colorless.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat. “What?”

A small smile slipped across her features, reminding Daryl of that brief, lighthearted moment they’d shared in the market before all hell broke loose. “I’ve always had a crush on you,” she singsonged lightly, her words scratchy and faint, but something fiery igniting in her eyes.

“Stop,” he hushed quietly, rolling his eyes a bit. In any other instance, her words would’ve sent his mind reeling, his pulse whirling. But right now, watching the life slowly fade from her captivating gaze, those words drove a dagger directly into Daryl’s heart.

She sighed softly, a vicious tremor racking through her and Daryl quickly tightened his hold around her, almost as if he could physically transfer his own strength into her. But after the shiver ceased, her body feeling heavier than previously, she slowly craned her neck up to look at the archer. “S’ true,” she murmured, her eyes suddenly watering, her lower lip trembling. “You’re a good person, Daryl Dixon,” she whispered, her voice breaking as a swell of emotion overcame her, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye and cascading down the side of her face. “The best,” she corrected herself, hiccuping slightly as her teeth began to chatter.

That was when Daryl realized her lips were turning blue.

His throat tightened like a sudden lump had formed there as he stared down into Y/N’s wide, round eyes. He had no words. What was there to say? That he was sorry? That this was his fault? That he didn’t deserve her affection? None of that seemed right.

So Daryl didn’t think.

Instead, he tilted his head down, merely an inch, gently pressing his warm lips to her cold ones. He couldn’t explain what had come over him. Maybe it was Y/N’s sudden confession. Maybe it was the close proximity or the given circumstances. Or maybe, just maybe, it was simply something he’d wanted to do since the moment he’d met her.

And so there he found himself, melding his lips with hers, pouring everything he’d wished he would’ve said and done before today into that one, soft, meaningful kiss.

When he pulled away, slightly breathless, Y/N was staring up at him in a mixture of awe and sadness, a slight tinge of rosy pink brought back to her lips and cheeks. “About damn time,” she whispered faintly, her gaze portraying all of the longing that Daryl felt in the depths of his soul.

But then, her eyes fluttered…her head bobbed…her color faded.

And Daryl was hit once more with the startling reality of what was happening. “No, no, no,” he murmured desperately, tightening his arms around her, attempting to prop her up straighter. “Alright, ya wanted ta’ talk, right? Let’s talk. What’d ya wanna talk ‘bout, Y/N? Anythin’. C’mon, tell me.”

Y/N exhaled shakily, fighting off the dark sleep threatening to take over. “Hey, D?” she mumbled weakly.

“Yeah?”

“Doesn’t hurt anymore,” she whispered, eyes drooping into slits. “My leg.”

Daryl felt his heart skip, a feeling of dread coursing through him. “Y/N —”

“Hey, D?”

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, fearing what was to come. “Yeah?” he choked out.

Y/N paused. “I’ll always be your girl.”

His eyes shot open as Y/N nuzzled closer to his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin, sighing softly — and Daryl couldn’t help but feel a little bit of life leave her with that single breath. His vision suddenly blurred, eyes glassy with a sheen of unshed tears as he curled his arms protectively around her middle. “Always,” he murmured deeply, pressing his cheek onto the top of her head.

It was quiet after that, just the humming of the car engine filling the air as Glenn raced it down winding road after winding road. The dwindling sun could be seen peeking through the forest trees, setting the branches aglow with its brilliant rays. The road curved distinctly and Daryl knew they were growing closer to the prison, only a few miles from home at that point.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he had felt Y/N exhale a few moments prior and never resume breathing after that.

She was gone.

His girl was gone.

And all he could do was sit there, arms wrapped around her depleted, blood-soaked body, and envision what life might’ve looked like had he had the guts to tell her how he felt before it was too late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: *crickets chirping*...*taps nails nervously against desk*...*anxiously avoids eye contact* Oh. Hi. Sorry, didn’t see you there. Hahahahaimsorryhahahaha.

OKAY, LET’S CHAT FOR A MINUTE BEFORE YOU DECIDE THAT YOU HATE ME.

Here’s what I’m feeling - I hated this ending. Well, actually, I loved this story and how I wrote it (which is pretty rare for me lol). But I hated this ending because I so badly wanted a happier one. I wanted Daryl and Glenn to get Y/N back to the prison in time and for Hershel to save her and for Daryl to sit by her bedside until she woke up and then profess his feelings for her and then live happily ever after.

But for the life of me, I couldn't get myself to write that. Maybe because most of my stories have happy endings (or as happy as can be in the middle of a zombie apocalypse). Maybe because I was looking for a challenge and angst is a challenge for me. Or maybe because this is simply the outcome I’d subconsciously envisioned from the beginning.

I honestly felt so depressed writing this ending, I wanted to go back and change it multiple times, but I just couldn’t. This is, unfortunately, how their story ends. 

BUT. FEAR NOT. 

If anyone out there is as upset as I am about this ending, we have a few options here...

1. I can write an epilogue about the aftermath of what happened/hopefully bring Daryl’s heart a bit of peace. (Poor baby. I’m so sorry I did this to you. Forgive me.)

2. You can tell me to fuck off and relax because I’m TOO INVESTED IN A FICTIONAL STORY WITH FICTIONAL CHARACTERS AND NO ONE ACTUALLY CARES.

LET ME KNOW BELOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO SEE EITHER OF THESE THINGS.

Ahem. Anyways. 

Quick shout out to my girls @jodiereedus22 and @wilhelmjfink for always being so supportive. I love you both so so much! (CHECK OUT THEIR STORIES! BOTH ARE AWESOME WRITERS!)

And thank you, everyone, for all the love and support this two-parter was shown - the feedback was honestly mind-blowing. I wish there was more I could do to express how much I love you all. Just know how much I appreciate each and every one of you. Thank you for the kindness. My heart is full.

Feedback is INCREDIBLY important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or message or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Let’s discuss and be friends!

If you want to be notified when I post again, let me know and I’ll add you to my tag list!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FOREVER TAG LIST

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[emiliaclarkesdragons]

Patricia didn't know where to look, she didn't want to look to her left at Abraham's body, or what was left of it. And she didn't want to look at her right to see her brothers worried face, his sister, wife and unborn child were all in the line-up. She certainly didn't want to look at Daryl either, his eyes told everyone what he was feeling. Patricia had seen that look too many times on Daryl, it was the same look the last time she nearly died. But at least last time Daryl was able to save her, she couldn't see that happening this time.

"You" Patricia looked up, seeing a bat in her face, "What's your name?"

"Pa-Patricia" She stuttered, her eyes not leaving the end of the bat. She assumed she was boz-eyed when she was looking at it.

Negan sniggered, "is the little girl scared?" He asked laughing. Patricia couldn't think of a reply, normally to her parents there would be a million sarcastic responses. Now, nothing. "I can make a deal with you, little lady" Negan said, waking so he was in line with Rick, while swinging the bat at his side. He paused his movements and wandered back to Patricia, kneeling down in front of her, "This may not be the proposal you fantasied about when you were a little-er lady..." He laughed at his little joke, "But you could always agree to be my wife..." Negan trailed off.

Patricia felt ashamed for considering it and not only Negan and Glenn noticed but Daryl did too. "Of course, you would never see these wonderful daring and incredible stupid people again... that's if they all make it" He grinned.

When Negan bellowed in laughter after Patricia's swallowed the lump in her throat she said, "I'd rather die than be with you"

"Now that. That, little lady, we can arrange" He pointed at her with excitement. He lifted the bat and as you would when playing golf, he took a practise swing. Which was when her brother jumped in.

"No! Stop!" Glenn pleaded, too weak to do anything more other than crawl forward to Negan's feet, practically begging at his feet.

Negan mocked him by pouting, "Aw, now that is sweet" He said, leaning down and pinching Glenn's cheeks. "Dwight, put him back in line." He said. Patricia let out a deep breath, was Negan going to let that one go? "Isn't he a cute..." He trailed off and motioned to Patricia to tell him what they were.

"Brother" Patricia mumbled, she wanted him to get on with it. If she was going to die she didn't want to wait. She was tired of all this.

"Aw" Negan pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. He quickly moved to Patricia, his nose almost touching hers. He said lowly, still audible to Daryl, "I'm going to give you a heads up, because... I like you and this is such a shame... If your brother moves one more time, I'm going to beat the hell out of him too, he'll be first, so you can watch-"

Negan was knocked to the floor by Daryl's fist. Negan jumped up, "Holy shit balls, who is this guy now!" He was angry but he laughed, which scared Patricia. He then looked from Patricia and Daryl and managed to piece it together, he turned to Glenn. As he turned back to Patricia he said, "It's like killing two birds with one stone," Negan laughed as he raised the bat. A second later Patricia had gone.

Glenn crouched next to Patricia's body, he was trying not to cry and Maggie was trying to comfort him but he shrugged her off. "Glenn please-" Rick began.

Glenn had cut him off with a loud sob, "I have to take her body to-to hilltop... I'll take her there, with—Maggie" He struggled out. Maggie got on her knees and placed an arm around Glenn, he leaned into her a little but still tried to keep his distance, he would fall apart if he was in Maggie's arms. "I have to- before Walkers are attracted to--" He didn't finish the sentence, he couldn't. He didn't want to look at his sister's body any longer, she needed to be put to rest. Glenn felt like he could feel her presence around him, she was restless, she wanted rest. Glenn wondered how long it would be before he started hearing her voice.

"Glenn..." Maggie said, Glenn looked to Maggie, she smiled sadly, at him. He nodded, understanding it was time to go.

He tried to lift her himself, but the grief was too much, her voice was ringing though his head. But she wasn't saying what he thought she would, she was saying "Everything happens for a reason". Rick bent down and pleaded, "Glenn... let us help too- she- she was family." Maggie nodded to Rick and Carl, they picked up her body while Maggie held onto Glenn, he was going to fall over, he was going to break soon. Maggie was using all her energy and the energy she didn't have to be strong for Glenn.

Glenn spent many hours of each day at Patricia's grave, he had placed little yellow flowers at the bottom of the cross. Sasha had placed Abraham's knife at the bottom of his. They would both often sit in silence, thinking the same thing, revenge. However, Glenn thought more about losing her. Than Sasha did for Abraham. Maggie would join Glenn in the morning, she would bring him a hot drink and sit next to him, looping her arm in his as she sipped her drink. Glenn would sometimes tell her a story from when they were younger. They would repeat the same thing at night with the hot drink and Maggie looping her arm around his... but this time Glenn would cry.

After some weeks, perhaps just over a month, he had decided to make Patricia a better cross. He had asked Jesus for some wood, which Jesus gladly gave him, with a protest from Gregory.

Glenn was busy etching in the 'p' of her name, which was all he could manage as he had cried for at least two hours before he began, when he heard someone talking nearby. It sounded familiar, h wondered if it was Rick. He stood up, he wanted to go and see but he looked at how little he had done for the new cross and sat back down to carry on. He realised that it was only Sasha coming to put some flowers on the graves, Glenn was now struggling with the first 'a'. Sasha watched him for a moment and saved the cross from being smashed as Glenn was getting annoyed. "Would you like some help?" She asked, after she had walked around the graves. "I can show you how to do the 'a' and you can copy it?" She suggested. Glenn nodded, he still couldn't speak, not when it came to his sister, "If you start with a line..." Sasha began, demonstrating on Abraham's cross. She thought it was a sweet idea. "It's the numbers that are harder" she joked and Glenn smiled, "I can show you how to do them too, if you want." She said, Glenn gave a small nod as Sasha left him to do it himself. He was finding 'a's much easier now.

Glenn hadn't realised there was someone, or some people watching him. "Glenn? Honey?" Maggie said softly, but she was standing away from him, she thought this was best. She had also started calling him 'honey' since Patricia's passing, Glenn assumed it was a sympathy thing, but he liked his new nickname so he didn't say anything against it.

Glenn looked up from his etching, he saw Daryl standing next to Maggie. He looked ill. Really ill. "Jesus helped Daryl escape..." Maggie trailed off, "I'll- leave you two to it." She said, patting Daryl on the shoulder for good luck and walked away.

"Is that-?" Daryl asked, pointing to wear Glenn was sitting, Glenn nodded and Daryl moved carefully closer. He still sat a distance away from Glenn, "Glenn. I'm so sorry, I should have never tried- I should have listened, it wasn't like the last time. But I—should have listened" He placed his head in his hands, hiding the tears. "I don't know what I was thinking... Glenn, I am so sorry-"

"It wasn't your fault" Glenn mumbled, Daryl looked to Glenn, who looked to Daryl, "It wasn't your fault" He repeated, and looked down at Patricia's grave. "Patricia used to say, everything happens for a reason. And- I think she was right, this wasn't your fault, this is what's going to make us all stronger... Negan clearly didn't see that."

Maggie had heard it all, she was listening and she was proud they had worked it out, she even thought Glenn would be able to lead the Hilltop to fight... she hoped. Maggie went around to see what they were doing as they had stopped talking, she seen Glenn and Daryl working on the new cross together. Glenn was still etching her name and now Daryl was etching in some sort of pattern up the bottom half of the cross.

Thanks for reading! I'm back from Leeds Fest and it was incredible! Hopefully I'll be finishing the other requests before I go to Manchester.