The Third Dixon [The walking dead]

Chapter eleven

The gates of Alexandria creaked open slowly, the metal grinding louder than usual in the heavy afternoon air.

Dust clung to Nathan's clothes. There was dried blood on his sleeve—none of it his. His hands still trembled faintly, though he kept them clenched at his sides so no one would see.

They walked in quieter than they'd left.

No music.
No smug confidence.
No Aiden.
No Noah.

People gathered anyway. Curious. Concerned. Watching.

And then Nathan saw her.

Measi was standing near the steps of the house, arms folded tight across her chest like she'd been holding herself together by force. The second her eyes found him, something in her face broke — relief and fear colliding at once.

He didn't slow down.

He crossed the distance in long strides, dropping his bag somewhere along the way. Measi barely had time to brace before he pulled her into him.

She made a small sound — half groan, half breath knocked from her lungs — but her arms came around him instantly. Tight. Desperate.

He buried his face against her hair, breathing her in like oxygen after drowning.

"I'm here," he muttered, though it sounded like he was convincing himself.

Her hands fisted in the back of his shirt. "You're late," she said hoarsely, voice thick with unshed tears.

"I know."

She leaned back just enough to look at him, scanning his face, his shoulders, his hands — checking for damage. "You're bleeding."

"Not mine."

That didn't help.

Her jaw tightened. "Who?"

Nathan's expression shifted. The relief faded, replaced by something darker. He swallowed once.

"Noah," he said quietly.

The word landed heavy.

Measi went still.

She hadn't known Noah long, but long enough. Long enough to see the way he tried. The way he smiled like he still believed in something better.

Her grip on Nathan tightened.

"How?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

Nathan's eyes flicked away for a second, like the memory was too sharp to look at directly. "Nicholas panicked. Revolving doors. Walkers got in." His jaw flexed. "He... Glenn almost stayed."

Measi's eyes snapped back to his. "Stayed?"

"He wasn't going to leave him." Nathan's voice was low, strained. "I had to pull him out. If I didn't—"

She reached up and cupped his face before he could spiral any further.

"You did," she said firmly. "You pulled him out."

His breathing stuttered for half a second.

Behind them, Glenn moved past quietly, hollow-eyed. Maggie rushed to him. The grief rippled outward through the group like a shockwave.

But Nathan didn't look away from Measi.

"I couldn't save him," he admitted.

Her thumb brushed just under his eye, wiping away dust — or maybe something else.

"You don't get to carry all of that," she said softly. "You came back. That matters."

He let out a shaky breath and leaned his forehead against hers.