A Broken World

Sixty-Two

The walk back to the prison was quiet—tense, but not in the same way it had been before. Everyone was exhausted, dragging their feet, eyes darting toward every rustling bush or distant groan. But we moved as a unit. No one said it out loud, but nearly losing each other had reminded us how easily this could all fall apart.

When we finally passed through the gates, Carl was the first one to spot us. He ran to Rick, relief written all over his face. Hershel, still on his crutches, offered us a tired smile. Beth had tears in her eyes as she took Maggie’s hand, and I watched the reunions quietly, a heavy warmth blooming in my chest.

We were all still here.

Carol touched my arm lightly. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Close call.”

She studied me for a beat longer than I liked. Her eyes flicked to Daryl, who was lingering by the gate, quiet and brooding as always. “Well. I’m glad you both made it back in one piece.”

Me too.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the yard was dark except for the soft orange glow of the fire pit. Most people had gone inside to rest, but I stayed behind, sitting on one of the overturned crates, chewing slowly on a piece of stale jerky. My muscles ached. My head throbbed. But it wasn’t just the physical exhaustion keeping me up.

I felt him before I saw him.

Daryl walked over without a word, lowering himself onto the crate beside me, close enough for our arms to brush.

“You always this quiet?” I asked.

He gave a grunt that might’ve been a laugh. “Not always.”

We sat there for a long beat, listening to the wind rustle the dead leaves outside the fence.

“Back there… in the closet,” I finally said, staring into the fire. “That wasn’t just some heat-of-the-moment thing for me.”

“I know.”

I turned to look at him, surprised by how sure he sounded.

He met my gaze steadily, eyes softer than I’d ever seen them. “You talk a lot. But I hear what you’re really sayin’. I always have.”

That made something twist deep in my chest. “Then why do you always pull away?”

He didn’t answer right away. He rubbed a hand along his jaw, thinking. “’Cause wantin’ something… it makes you stupid. Makes you weak. At least, that’s what Merle always said. And I believed him for a long time.”

I waited, heart pounding.

“But back there… I wasn’t thinkin’ about Merle. Or what’s smart. I was thinkin’ about you.”

My breath caught.

“I ain't good at this,” he muttered. “But I ain’t runnin’ from it anymore.”

I reached out and took his hand—rough, calloused, familiar—and he let me. No flinching. No retreat.

“I don’t need perfect,” I said quietly. “I just need real.”

He looked at me like I was the only thing holding him together.

And then, just like before, he leaned in. But this time it wasn’t to shut me up.

It was a promise.

A real one.

------

The tension was thick in the truck as we pulled up to the feed store. Daryl’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and Rick hadn’t said a word since we left. Hershel sat beside me in the back, his face drawn and quiet. I didn’t know what we were walking into, but every part of me screamed it was a trap.

Still, we had to try.

The building loomed in front of us—worn-down, silent, and ominous. Rick gave a curt nod to Daryl, who killed the engine.

“This is it,” Rick said, reaching for his Colt.

“Let’s be smart about this,” Hershel muttered. “No one goes in hot.”

Rick opened the door. “I’m going in alone first.”

“I’m not lettin’ you go in there alone,” Daryl argued, his voice low and deadly. “We don’t know what the hell’s waitin’.”

Rick turned to him. “You’re staying outside with YN and Hershel. Watch my back.”

I didn’t love the plan, but I trusted Rick. I nodded once. “We got you.”

Rick pushed the door open and disappeared inside. I couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in my gut. This whole place felt off. I scanned the tree line, then looked at Daryl.

He caught my eye. “Keep sharp.”

No more than a minute later, Andrea pulled up in another truck with Milton and Martinez. She jumped out and froze when she saw Rick’s group already here. Her eyes landed on me, wide with surprise.

“YN?” she said, walking toward us. “You came?”

I crossed my arms, wary. “Guess you didn’t think we’d show?”

“I didn’t think Rick would agree to this,” she admitted. “The Governor just wants to talk.”

“Does he?” Daryl muttered behind me. “Not sure he’s the talkin’ type.”

Andrea sighed and turned away. “Let’s just get this over with.”

She walked into the building with Milton and Martinez trailing her. Daryl and I exchanged a glance, then both turned our attention outward again, watching the perimeter. Every creak of wind, every rustle of brush had me reaching for my knife.

“You trust her?” I asked Daryl under my breath.

He glanced at me, jaw tight. “I trust her to fuck it up.”

I gave a short, humorless laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Time passed in quiet spurts. Martinez, bored of standing around, eventually challenged Daryl to clear out a few walkers that wandered too close to the building. The two of them took it as a twisted competition—arrows and bats meeting rotten flesh while I stayed back, guarding Hershel and Andrea’s ride.

“Dumbasses,” I muttered as Daryl smirked after dropping a second walker faster than Martinez.

They were sizing each other up like predators in a cage.

Meanwhile, inside, Rick was doing his best not to lose his cool. I could see it in the rigid set of his shoulders every time he stepped briefly into view through the window. Hershel watched quietly, his leg stretched out and stiff, eyes tracking everything.

It felt like hours passed. When Rick finally emerged, his face was unreadable. He didn’t speak right away.

“Let’s go,” he said gruffly.

Once we were in the truck again, he finally spoke. “He wants Michonne.”

The words hit the cabin like a gunshot.

“What?” I turned toward him. “He wants us to give her up?”

Rick didn’t answer right away. “Said if we give her over, he’ll back off.”

“He’s lyin’,” Daryl growled. “He ain’t gonna stop even if you hand her over in pieces.”

“He’s gonna kill us no matter what,” I said quietly. “He just wants us to make the first cut.”

Rick looked down at his hands. “I know.”

I met Daryl’s eyes in the rearview mirror. We both understood—there was no peace coming. Only war.