together, bound forever.

she held in a sigh as she nodded her eyes looking from him to the ground.  “do you know what they plan to even do with him? i’m surprised Daryl diddn’t kill him, he probably should have honestly.” she spoke to him as she looked to her hands in her lap. “i leave for less than twenty four hours and you nearly get killed. to be honest, D. You scared me, with everything with the bridge….” she rambled. 

“Yeah. He should’ve. Whatever happens to Paul, it’s up to me,” He shrugs. Not wanting to be the one to make that decision. Not wanting to have to kill again. He could kill Paul, yes. It wouldn’t weigh heavily on his mind, after everything. Some part of him was hesitant. “The bridge. It’s more of a shit show there than it is here. If that’s even possible.” A sigh leaves his thin lips, and he takes her hand. “You don’t gotta worry about me. I’ll be okay. I made it this far. I think it’ll take a lot to kill me.”

rosita’s dark eyes looked up and down dwight’s body as she walked in, before furrowing with concern. it hadn’t escaped her notice that he had been trying desperately to block himself off from her eyes, something which filled her with concern. “are– are you okay?” she asked, trying to be sensitive to things.

“Fine.” That might’ve been a lie. He was insecure. More than he’d ever been in the past. Body covered in scars. The shoulder, the chest, the face... They were all ugly, but his face obviously was the worst. He wasn’t afraid of receiving more scars, but he wasn’t exactly fond of it, either. He approaches her, wrapping his arms around her; bringing her in so they were both covered with the blanket. Pressing his forehead against hers. She had seen his body before, but not since he got shot again. “My scars are... fucking ugly. I don’t want you to see them.”

daryl felt like everyone was trying to push him on how he was supposed to feel about this or what he was supposed to do about her being gone. originally he wanted to haul his ass after her and drag her back with that damn baby kicking and screaming if he had too. however with everything going on at sanctuary, the bridge and speaking to enid he’d managed to calm. it didn’t make it alright though. any of it. course he was worried about her, he’d been meaning to check in but his stubbornness took that from him. they had told him she was sleeping so he figured now as a good as time as any to check in but that didn’t seem to last long. he’d only been in her room a couple of minutes when she awoke. his head dipping to the ground as he slouched further against the wall. “i look like i’m gonna’ say anythin’?” what could he say?

Whatever he might want to tell her, he was probably right. But going off on her own hadn’t been a completely bad idea, it was the run that took her down. She could’ve gotten out of there eventually, since she was lucky in staying out of the view of walkers. “You must want to.” She points out. She never put Hershel’s life in danger. She knew how to travel on her own, and with a baby. He was well behaved for being so young, he hadn’t made a sound the whole time they traveled to Georgie. She’d always keep him safe, always put him and his safety first. Even if it seemed like she was putting herself first with this. It was nice to get away sometimes. “I’m sorry.”

Dante knew they had to keep moving, they had to find a safe place to settle down for a bit, so they could both rest. The pain coming from his leg was the worst, the wound hadn’t healed completely yet and if he kept going for too long, he would most likely open it up again. He didn’t care though, Maggie’s safety was everything that mattered to him at this point. “Calm down, let me find a safe place for us.” He walked for a few more minutes until he found a cabin in the woods. It seemed safe enough, at least there were no walkers around. Dante walked into the cabin with Maggie, closing the door behind them before finally settling her down on an old couch. Dante ignored her comment about him being hurt, as he sat down on the ground, letting out a sigh. “Well you thought wrong.” He looked up to her with a smirk. “Takes a lot more than a bridge collapse to take me away from you.” Of course Dante would be one to make jokes now, even though it wasn’t completely a lie.

She listened, because she trusted him still. But based on what she was hearing, she was worried she could be seeing things, too. Losing her mind, when she felt so well put-together. It was terrifying. She wanted to feel safe, as she had never felt so afraid in her life. She couldn’t put the pieces together of what happened, of what landed her here. She rests on the couch where he sets her soon after they find the cabin, or he finds the cabin, and her mind is still running in circles. She looks at him. “Stop.” Then looks away. “Did you hear that out there? The whispers?” She puts her hand out, for him to come take. Wanting him to be close to her.

She knew she was in for a scolding. He owed her that much. She had already been scolded by Siddiq and Enid alike, and was put on bed rest. She was sleeping a lot, Amber and Mark were taking care of Hershel for her. She was sure she could be back on her feet (with crutches), but bed rest was her punishment, or so it felt. Maggie didn’t want to sleep, as sleep was mainly leading to nightmares. 

Her nightmares consisted of a few things: blood, Glenn, whispers, her family. The nightmares were scattered enough that she couldn’t remember them well. When she woke up gasping, she sat up immediately, pain shooting down her broken leg. She was sweating. 

And Daryl was standing right there. She was paler than usual, but not because of him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

He was half-naked when she walked in. Shirtless, and he hadn’t let her see him this way since before he got shot. His scars were ghastly, and because he disliked looking at them so much, he figured she would dislike it even more. “Wait.” He turns his back to her, then goes to search for a shirt in his mess of a laundry pile. He couldn’t find one fast enough, so he takes a blanket off of their bed and wraps it around his torso. Forcing a fake shiver, as if he were cold.

sherry couldn’t help but stiffen a laugh at his comment. the smile spreading across her face. her eyes lighting up for a second. “sounds just about right, if you are allowed. i might give you one, but only if!” she said to his need for his cigarette’s. “you and i both know he won’t get in line, he’s dangerous.” she spoke honestly. “and your right, we both did bad things there. and it’s changed us for the better, i guess.” she nodded. “she’s been out there waiting, i know she is scared for you. rosita is….she’s good for you, D.” she said nodding honestly. 

@trustheking​

“You think I want to go after him?” He asks, thinking he’s misunderstanding her. “I don’t give a shit about Paul. Never did. He can rot in there for all I care. Just afraid he’ll try to hurt someone again.” And by ‘someone’, he meant Rosita. That was reason enough for Dwight to want to get out of his bed and go kill Paul himself. If he had the strength, he would. “Yeah.” He nods. “For the better.” Or so he believed. He had faith that they were both better people by now. Things were the way he wanted them to be. “Don’t.” Dwight’s tone changes, more stern now, but non-threatening. “We’re not having this conversation... not now.” Truth be told, that conversation was too painful for him either way. She knew better than anyone that he didn’t like to talk about anything upsetting, traumatic; anything that would make him uncomfortable. He liked to avoid painful memories as much as possible.

“yeah. what’s with the third degree, man?” his tone showing the frustration that he was doing his best not to feel but this was all actual bullshit. “well maggie ain’t gonna’ just leave her there without sayin’ nothin’. that ain’t her.” or so he hoped. no he knew she wouldn’t. although he’d hoped no matter how mad it got she wouldn’t have just left… not alone like that. daryl should have acted happier about the fact considering he knew alden was alright, he really was but right now he didn’t care much for it. there was a lot he had to worry about. maggie, hershel, carol, henry, enid, jesus. his shit pile kept getting bigger. wasn’t rick’s plan supposed to stop all this shit? “before we do anythin’. we gotta’ go check on enid.” there were too many tracks for even him to be able to just pick one. it was like picking the damn lottery numbers – too much chance, too much time had gone for him to be able to know which was her’s. 

“‘Cause I know you love her. You’re gonna try to go after her. She was wearing your poncho when she left.” The love wasn’t implicated to be romantic, Alden knew it wasn’t like that. In another world, maybe. Not this one. As usual, the younger man wanted to help to the best of his ability. “Or it is. And you just don’t know it.” He wasn’t trying to counter everything Daryl said. Maybe he was just trying to give Maggie what she wanted: to be left alone. The only way he worried about Enid now was that she might have too much on her plate, the others would make sure the Saviors didn’t bug her. Besides, the Saviors that would’ve retaliated were either locked up at the Sanctuary or dead.

     Days of not eating had started to affect him. He had no energy, he got dizzy if he moved (which was rare), and besides what little they had forced him to drink, he was showing signs of dehydration. It made him to be a weak, hollow man of what he’d been before. He was dozing when he heard the door slam open. He’d briefly heard discussions on what happened. Their precious bridge had collapsed, people were freaking out,they were losing complete control of the Sanctuary. They were nearly as pathetic as he was these days.

     Much to his surprise, there was someone he… had little interaction with before and after his capture. Of course he knew who she was. Maggie Rhee, the widow of his worst crime. She, too, was pathetic in his eyes.

     His noticed the gun in her hands and let out a much relieved breath. Finally.

     “That Asian’s boy piece of pussy, right?” he asked. He knew her name, but the sooner she’d use that gun, the better. He was ready. “How’s the kid? I’d wonder if he looked like his father, but if he did… from my only knowledge, it’d mean the kid’s face has gotten be pretty fucking wrecked.”

“His wife. Or else I wouldn’t be a widow.” Part of her didn’t want to do this without Daryl, without the others. They would be angry. But she was venturing off anyways, so she might as well get this done. She wished Negan didn’t know about Hershel. He must have heard a lot from that cell, through the little window. She knew the man would say anything just to get a rise outta her. For now, she wasn’t going to allow herself to stoop to his level. She’d keep calm and collected. “I think you remember what he looked like before you bashed his brains in, Negan. He was beautiful.” Negan knew nothing about Glenn, except that Glenn was his victim, and that Glenn had been married to Maggie. “And our child’s beautiful.”

Should he be out here when he still wasn’t full recovered? Probably not. Did he care at all? Definitely not. As soon as Dante was able to walk again, he was driving away from the Hilltop and try to find Maggie. He didn’t know where to look at first but there was nothing else going through his mind, just the need to find her, to know that she was safe along with Hershel. Dante could only imagine the pain and suffering that she was going through because she thought he was gone, she believed he had died on that bridge. When he was brought back to the Hilltop and found out she was gone, he wasn’t too surprise, Maggie had lost so much already, losing him had been the last drop. 

Dante wanted to check the new place she was trying to build first. He knew the location, one of the very few people who knew and if Maggie ran, she would’ve gone to a safe place, mostly because she was taking Hershel with her. Although, Dante’s attention was directed somewhere else, the herd of walkers that seemed to be whispering among them. It was weird, he had never seen anything like that before. He was pulled away from his thoughts when he saw someone alive, trying to walk but eventually falling unconscious. The sun was going down, he couldn’t see properly who it was from so far away but still, he grabbed his machete and ran towards the person, slicing a few walker heads along the way. When he reached her, his eyes widened. “Maggie? Maggie wake up.” He cursed under his breath when he got no answer. Looking around, Dante ignored the pain going through his still injured leg and picked her up the best he could, running away from the walkers and trying to reach a safe place.

Dante was dead. That’s what she kept telling herself, because that was the probability. That’s why she had to leave in the first place, she couldn’t take any more death. The losses had gotten overwhelming a long time ago. But she didn’t consider her run to be a suicide mission, she loved Hershel too much to leave him. Almost felt like she was all he had left.

In the time that she was unconscious, she was lucky. Lucky that she hadn’t been devoured by walkers, but none seemed to pass the exact area she was in. When she woke up in Dante’s arms, she thought her eyes were deceiving her. “Put me down, put me down--” Assuming it was Daryl, or Jesus, Eduardo or Kal, or even one of Georgie’s men. She shakes her head, blinking hard. “You’re hurt,” She could tell by the way he was breathing, and once he listens to her command, she really looks up at him, really sees him. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

She didn’t know where this run went wrong. She didn’t know when she lost consciousness, or how. A hole had been ripped in her jeans over her knee, and she couldn’t move that leg without great pain. Dirt all over her jeans. Her heart pounding against her chest to the point where she could barely breathe. She couldn’t hear herself think, there were too many other sounds. Noises she couldn’t identify yet. She knows her leg is broken, but tries to stand anyways, leaning against the dirt. She can hear walkers groaning, that’s the first thing she identifies besides her own breathing. She covers her mouth, while trying to walk. The sun is going down.

Whispers. They come from the dead. Or, so it seems.

Glenn’s voice. ‘I found you.’ She falls unconscious again.

She couldn’t leave without addressing her unfinished business.

Negan.

She’d stop at Alexandria before making it to Hilltop, collecting some of her belongings, taking her child, then leaving. But she wanted to see Negan dead before that. And this way, she wouldn’t have to face the repercussions of her murder. It shouldn’t have been so easy for her to swipe a key and distract a guard, but she was known in Alexandria, making it easier for her. She approaches his cell with a gun in hand, door locked behind her; no one would interrupt her. She opens the cell door, fearless. “Wonder if you know my real name,” She says, no emotion in her voice. “Or if ‘The Widow’ is all I am to you.”

he knew to take his leg on himself, but in times like these, he knew that having arat do it took a lot faster, she’d gotten used to helping him with it over the years, and could probably do it in her sleep at that point.. but as she finished, he jst looked down at her, hearing her talk.. “wait– arat.. what did you do?” he said, the moment her words passed her lips, relieving she’d done something bad. he trusted her, yes, but he needed to know…

“I killed them.” Three simple words, with which she stands to her feet. “Before the riots even started.” She almost got caught by Jed and his rioters, too. Part of the reason why she wanted to leave all of a sudden, other than the fact that they could get caught in crossfire or die. But they needed to live. “We have to go. We’ll die if we stay here now.”

“the only reason he isn’t dead is that i’m here with you.” rosita said slowly, looking up at him. she hated the reminder of all the things that had happened to him because of the sanctuary but it just was the way it was. rosita couldn’t look at him without remembering. she looked down, swallowing. “what do you want done? you were the one who got hurt it should be up to you.”

Rosita was, in a way, making him choose between life and death. Not for himself, but for others. Someone had already gone out of their way to kill some of the Saviors. Maybe the Saviors had it coming. “Yeah. I’m glad you’re here with me.” He didn’t think he could make a decision. Not now, at least. He didn’t know if he was too angry to do so, or just too drugged up. “I dunno. Not sure it should even be up to me.” He shrugs. “Maybe it should be up to you.”