Fic: fallen empires, the walking dead (3/5)
Title: Fallen Empires (2/4)
Fandom: The Walking Dead, HDM AU
Characters/Pairings: Ensemble cast & canon pairings with a dash of Glenn/Daryl later
Word Count: ~6,684 (this part)
A/N: Takes place after 2x7. If you have any questions about names or forms, just ask!
Daemons (Rick's Group): Meiri | Cahir | Eliora (El) | Kali | Cassiel (Cass) | Nurya | Brooklyn | Gazini | Ilya
Herhsel's Group: Luke | Ashling
Other: Hekate (Merle's daemon)
Part One Part Two
“And they that dwell on the earth shall wonder, whose names were not written in the Book of Life from the foundation of the world, when they behold the beast that was, and is not, and yet is.” -Revelation 17:8
Where the Soul Goes
“Stupid old man,” Shane mutters, shouldering his way through the dense trees. “Hell's he thinkin’, charging off without anybody.”
“He ain’t thinkin’,” Daryl says. “Think we all know that. He’s gone crazy. You heard him, screamin’ shit at the top of his lungs. Old bastard didn’t even know who his own kid was.”
Glenn remembers the haunted look on Maggie’s face and Meiri pokes her head out of the pack to nuzzle his ear.
“She’ll be okay,” his daemon whispers. “Maggie’s tough.”
I hope she is, Glenn doesn’t say. We probably won’t find her dad alive.
No one seems to want to say it, but Hershel’s probably dead. They all know it. No one, except maybe Rick and a tiny, tiny part of Glenn, thinks he’s alive.
They’ve learned from last time.
“Don’t think like that,” Meiri hisses. Glenn shrugs.
“I can’t help it,” he hisses back. “We’re all thinking it.”
Meiri chuffs angrily and disappears back into the pack. Low, miserable anger twists in his gut, and he knows it’s hers.
“This way,” Cahir calls, eyes glowing. Hershel’s trail is pretty easy to read, even for a city kid like Glenn, all trampled leaves, deep footprints, and snapped branches. Hershel doesn’t seem to be going in any real direction, just stumbling around through the woods aimlessly, driven by whatever's broken inside him.
Glenn finds a crow’s feather caught in some branches. He wants to touch it, but doesn’t.
“Looks like a rabid dog,” Daryl says.
“Uh, what?”
“The footprints.” Daryl points to the uneven steps. “He’s walkin’ crooked, see? Like a rabid dog.”
“Oh.” Glenn squints, and he can kinda see it, Hershel stumbling and swaying side to side, foot to foot, lurching, like he’d forgotten how to walk steady.
Like a walker, he gets from Meiri, and his blood runs cold.
“You sure we’re tracking Hershel? Not a walker?”
Daryl’s lip curves and he pulls the crow’s feather out of the branches. “We’re gonna find out real soon, huh?”
Glenn’s fingers curl tighter around his gun. “If he’s a walker-” How would he tell Maggie? Hershel’s her dad. She’d lost her mom and her brother to it already, what would she do if she lost him too?
Don’t be dead, he thinks viciously, like Hershel can hear him. If you die out here, she’ll never forgive you.
Meiri noses out of the pack, resting her head on Glenn’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” she whispers. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“This way!” Cahir shouts, and Glenn sees the tip of his tail whip out of sight. Daryl races after him and the rest follow. Rick nods at his daemon and she bounds from his side, going farther away from Rick than Glenn ever wants Meiri to go.
“We ain’t gonna find him alive,” Shane says, just loud enough for Glenn to hear. “He’s gonna be dead or worse, Rick.”
Rick’s mouth thins but he doesn’t say anything, and Meiri growls next to Glenn’s ear.
Don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.
They burst into a clearing and Glenn nearly falls over a body.
“Walker!” Mei hisses.
For a second he panics, scrambling for his gun and yanking his legs away from the thing’s hands,
It’s dead. It's so decayed Glenn can’t even tell if it had been a man or a woman and yellowed scraps of bone jab out of tattered clothes and rotten skin. The smell’s awful and it’s face up with its head bashed in, blood drying black and crusty on its face. Its teeth are bright red.
Oh shit. Oh shit, please no.
Glenn staggers a couple of steps backwards, sickness spinning in his gut, and that’s when he hears a crow’s screech. He turns, drawing his gun, and without pausing to think fires at towards the sound. There’s the squish of decayed flesh and a harsh gurgle in the undergrowth, and the crow-Ashling-screams again.
Rick and Shane are in the bushes before he can blink, Glenn and Daryl close behind, daemons snarling. Glenn has maybe two seconds to take it all in-one walker has a hold of Ashling and rips at her wings, the other has its teeth in Hershel-before the walkers are dead and the crow tumbles back to her man’s shoulder.
Oh shit.
Nobody speaks.
“Guess you were right,” Daryl says after a few seconds, and El pads back to Rick’s side, nosing his hands sadly.
Hershel sits propped up against a tree and they all can see the wound on his arm.
Meat and skin dangle loose right above his wrist, soaking his lap in blood, and he’s missing the last two fingers on his left hand. He’s still breathing shallowly, and Ashling leans against his head, her tiny breast heaving. The walker got her wing pretty bad, nearly tearing it out, and already little streams of golden dust unravel from her feathers.
She’s dying.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, Glenn thinks, and cuddles Meiri close. His throat burns.
“Oh, Christ,” Rick mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. His fingers shake and El whines, muttering something low and soft.
“Meiri,” Glenn whispers, “Mei, what am I gonna tell Maggie?”
She makes a ragged, harsh sound, dropping down into his arms to curl up against his heartbeat. She’s shaking, tremors racing through her fur up into his arms, and if daemons cried, she would.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m sorry, Glenn, I don’t know.”
He feels like there’s a hand inside his chest, squeezing his heart and lungs. He can’t breathe, and Meiri shivers against his chest.
What am I going to tell Maggie? His fingers tighten around the gun.
“He’s still alive,” Shane points out. Kali bares her teeth, eyeing Hershel. “And you know there’s more of ‘em around here. Where there’s one, there’s probably more. We found him. Now we gotta go.”
“And leave him here?” Rick says, dropping his hand. “Leave him here to get eaten alive, or die and come walking back to us?”
“We can shoot him,” Daryl suggests. Meiri straightens up in Cahir’s arms.
Glenn, she says.
“I’ve already said, we don’t shoot the living,” Rick snaps.
“C’mon, man, don’t be stupid. He’s gonna die. He’s gonna die in awful pain, just like Jim did.” Shane’s eyes glitter, and Glenn pulls his mind away from Maggie and the tightness in his chest. Meiri climbs back onto his shoulder and stands very still and straight. “D’you want another death like that on your conscience?”
Rick stops, drawing back and blinking. He looks at Hershel, then at his daemon. “El?”
The wolf-dog holds her man’s eyes, and slowly drops her head.
“We should ask him,” Glenn says quickly, before he can stop himself. Shit. Maggie told me to shoot him. I promised her I’d shoot him…
“Naw, man, let’s just get this over with,” Shane says, already drawing his gun. “I’ll make it real quick, you can tell your girl that.” He drew, aiming, one eye closed. “Kali, wanna grab the bird?”
The black dog shoots forward, teeth flashing, ready to rip into the dying crow.
“Don’t!”
Cahir leaps, eyes flashing, and Kali yelps, rolling over in the dirt. She jumps back to her feet and snarls at Daryl’s wolf, fur spiking aggressively.
“What the hell, man,” Shane snaps, dropping his gun and glaring furiously at Daryl. “The fuck you tryin’ to pull?”
Daryl glares right back. “Short Round says don’t.”
“You take orders from the kid now?”
“Hey!”
“I don’t take orders from nobody,” Daryl shoots back. “But he’s been right before, ain’t he? Listen to him. He’s datin’ the man’s daughter.”
“So that makes him what, family-by-proxy?” Shane says. Kali’s lips pull back and her teeth glitter. In that second, she looks more wolf than even Cahir, and El bounds over to hold them apart, if she needs to.
“Stop it,” Rick says, tiredly. “Glenn’s the only one who hasn’t said anything so far. Let’s hear what he’s got to say.”
Thanks, Glenn mouths at Daryl. Meiri jumps from his shoulder and scrambles onto Cahir’s head, baring her tiny teeth at Kali.
Glenn takes a deep breath.
“We should ask him,” he says. “Hershel, I mean. We should ask him what he wants us to do, like we asked Jim. Maggie told me shoot him, but… If he knows who he is, we should ask before we kill him.”
Rick tilts his head. “Okay.”
“C’mon, man, you can’t be serious! He ain’t even lucid, how the hell’s he gonna choose whether or not he wants to live?”
“We should ask him anyway. If he’s lucid, we’ll do what he says. If he’s not…”
“If he’s not, we’re shooting him,” Shane says flatly, and the fury leaves his shoulders. Kali drops her snarl.
Rick bows his head. “We’ll shoot him.”
“I’ll shoot him,” Glenn says, swallowing. He steps forward and raises his head.
Glenn, Mei says softly.
I promised Maggie.
Shane nods and tucks his gun away. Meiri stays on Cahir’s head, and Glenn goes to stand beside Daryl.
“Why’d you do that?” he mutters, so Shane can’t hear. “Stick up for me, I mean.”
Daryl shrugs.
“Hershel,” Rick says, carefully stepping next to the bloody man. “Hershel, it’s Rick, Rick Grimes. Can you hear me?”
Hershel doesn’t move.
Shane kicks him and they see more wounds, scratches, shallower bites. On his shoulder, Ashling stirs.
“He’s awake,” Glenn says. He comes a little closer and tries not to look at the mess that used to be Hershel’s left hand. “Hershel? Dr. Greene?”
“He’s sayin’ something.” Rick leans in, careful to keep his head out of snapping distance in case Hershel tries to bite his ear off. El presses against his legs, ready to bite if she has too.
Rick’s face turns white. “‘All who die must enter’,” he says, and straightens up. “He’s talkin’ nonsense again.”
“So let’s shoot him.” Shane raises his gun again.
“Wait.”
“What now?”
“Ashling,” Glenn says, and points. Sure enough, the crow’s moving, staggering to her feet and balancing drunkenly on Hershel’s shoulder.
Her beady eyes gleam,and she hops down to stand in front of the four men and their daemons. Her left wing trails in the dirt and she sways.
“Grimes,” she says, hoarsely. “Glenn.”
“Uh,” Glenn says, and drops to his knees. Meiri comes down off of Cahir’s head to sit beside him, eyeing the crow sadly.
Rick does the same, kneeling in the dirt. Daryl and Shane stay standing, holding their weapons tight.
“What happened to you?” Rick says gently.
“You killed them,” the crow says. “You killed our family.”
Rick winces.
“There were the sick out here, in the woods. We got around most of them.” Ashling sways, nearly falls over. Her feathers are blurring now, and Glenn sees tiny little streams of dust spin up from them. She’s dying.
“But not all of them,” he says.
She laughs, and it comes out like a croak. “No. Not all of them. That one,” she points with her good wing, “came at us from behind. We didn’t see him. He got us. I told Hershel… I told him…”
She staggers again, and Meiri rushes forward to catch her so she doesn’t fall.
“Why’d you leave the group?”
The crow shudders, her eyes glassy and fevered. “We heard.”
“Heard?”
If crows could smile, this one would be. “God laughing,” she whispers. “And the angels crying. The souls calling out for the Republic of Heaven, eager to drink of its waters. Their lips are still dry.”
What…?
“We are going to the Republic of Heaven,” Ashling whispers softly. “We can see it now…”
“You’ve been infected,” Glenn tells her, before Rick can speak. “You’ve been bitten. You’re dying.”
The crow looks down at her fading feathers. “Yes. I think we are.”
“We can take care of you,” Shane speaks up, loudly. “Save you some suffering. It’ll be quick.”
Ashling looks up at him, her beady eyes hard.
“No,” Hershel whispers, and Glenn sees that his eyes are open. “Don’t shoot us. We’re not animals who need to be put down.”
Rabid dog, Daryl’s voice echoes.
Meiri lets go of Ashling and creeps back to Glenn’s side.
“You’re gonna die,” Shane says, and the hard, gleaming edge slips into his voice again. “You’re gonna die either way. The virus’ll kill you, or we’ll kill you. We’ll just be a helluva lot quicker ‘bout it.”
Hershel laughs wetly. “You’re looking for the Republic of Heaven. What makes you think you’ll find it, Mr. Walsh? What makes any of you think you’ll find it?”
“We know where it is,” Daryl says. “Fort Benning.”
“Are you sure?”
“The hell d’you mean?”
Hershel’s eyes glitter. “All who die must enter, but not all who enter must die.”
“What does that mean?” Rick asks. “That’s twice you’ve said it now.”
The old man smiles, cradling his mangled, bloody arm. Ashling painfully climbs into his lap, and he grips her ruined, dusty feathers. “You should know. You’ve been there, after all.”
“Been where?”
Glenn frowns, confused now, looking between Rick and Hershel. “What’s he talking about?”
“Shh,” Meiri whispers. Her fur stands on end. “Listen.”
“Walkers!” Daryl hisses, suddenly, and everyone’s heads snaps up. Glenn could see them a couple hundred feet away, shuffling through the trees.
“Get in my pack, Mei.”
“No-”
“Mei,” he says, and she climbs back into the pack. The walkers haven’t seen them yet, but there are at least five, now ten, now more, stumbling towards them.
“Rick, we gotta go, man. Make a choice. Shoot him.”
Rick nods, and draws his own gun. “Hershel, they’re coming. D’you have anything you want to say to Maggie?”
“Don’t shoot me.”
“C’mon, man-”
“Shane. Hershel, quickly now, d’you have anything to say to your daughter?”
“Glenn,” Meiri whispers. “Glenn, listen to him.”
Daryl knocks a bolt, and Cahir growls, low and deep.
“Leave me,” Hershel says. “I do not fear the wrath of God. He is angry…. He is angry with me. Perhaps this is my punishment. Tell Maggie I’ll see her mother soon. Tell her it didn’t hurt.”
The tightness in Glenn’s chest swells, into his stomach, his hands. The gun he’s holding shakes. I can’t. “Mr. Greene-”
“You watch out for my daughter.” Hershel’s eyes flare, and his arm drips. “Protect her.”
“I will,” Glenn swore. “I will, I promise.”
“Rick,” says the old man.
“Rick, c’mon, man, they’re gettin’ closer,” Shane says, rocking back, half-turned to run. “We gotta set a trail away from camp.
“All who die must enter,” Hershel rasps, to Rick and Rick alone. “All who die must go.”
“What-”
“Rick,” Shane snarls, and he and Daryl grab the cop by the collar, pulling him away from Hershel.
“What do you mean!” Rick calls, and El turns back even though Cahir and Kali are shoving at her. The walkers have seen them now, and snarl hungrily.
“They’re going to eat him,” Meiri whispers. “Glenn, you have to shoot him. You have to.,”
“Hershel! What do you mean?”
“Where does the soul go?” Ashling cries, raising her good wing. “Where does the soul go, when it dies?”
The first walker, skin hanging off him in ropes, reaches Hershel, and grabs for Ashling.
“Tell them stories!” the crow shrieks, above the walker roar. She doesn’t fight when she’s pulled up towards hungry bared teeth.
“Oh, Glenn,” Meiri cries.
Glenn locks eyes with Hershel across the clearing and Daryl shouts at him, telling him to go, to run, to leave Hershel and get the hell out of there.
“I promised Maggie,” he whispers. His gun is heavy.
“Our Father, who art in Heaven,” Hershel says, closing his eyes, and Glenn fires once. Blood and brains splatter the nearest walker and Ashling bursts into dusty golden light with one last, mournful cry.
Hershel is dead, and Glenn runs.
*
After a few hours, Rick decides it’s safe to go back. They ditched the walker herd four or five miles west, well away from them and the path to Fort Benning, and if they don’t go back soon, the rest of the group will be out in force looking for them.
The last thing they need is to lose more people.
It’s past noon when they make their way back, following Daryl through the woods.
No one talks much.
Rick and Shane mutter at each other, planning out the move from camp to the fort, but even their talk is quiet, crushed.
I shot a living person, Glenn thinks, over and over again. Meiri clings to his shoulder, shivering slightly, and her claws dig into his skin. I shot my girlfriend’s father.
He’s not sure how he feels about that, just yet.
“You promised Maggie,” Mei says fiercely. “You promised her, and you saved him and Ashling a lot of pain. You did a good thing, Glenn.”
“Yeah,” he mutters. He should believe her. She’s his daemon, after all, his smarter, better soul, and she’s always right, always.
But he shot a man who asked not to be shot, and that feels like murder.
He wants to throw up.
He doesn’t have time to, though. They’re getting pretty close to the building again (he’s starting to recognize some trees. Maybe. He thinks, anyway) and he doesn’t want to get sick in front of Maggie or his own people.
I did what I had to do, he tells himself. Meiri cuddles close, nuzzling his ear. I did what I had to do.
Through the trees the building swims into view, half-hidden by piles of dirt and the dense woods. Glenn sees T-Dog leaning against the side, a gun propped next to him, his daemon sitting tame by his feet. Ilya’s big ears twitch as they approach and she chuffs a hello. Only El wuffs back. The rest stay quiet.
“Is he dead?” T-Dog asks. Glenn sees guilt flash in his eyes and he’s suddenly, stupidly pissed because T-Dog was supposed to be on guard, wasn’t he? He was supposed to keep everyone safe, to watch over them, but he let Hershel slip away.
It’s his fault Hershel was out in the woods in the first place.
Meiri bares her teeth, fur bristling aggressively.
He’s hyper-aware of the gun stuffed in his jeans and for half a second he imagines grabbing it, firing it-
And then he doubles over and throws up, coughing up last night’s spam violently, so hard he shakes. His knees shudder and he sways but before he can fall, he’s supported on either side.
Rick and Daryl hold him up, one on either side, their wolfish daemons flanking them.
“You okay, man?” Shane asks. Even he looks concerned, just a little, and some tiny part of Glenn is laughing hysterically. Looks like the way to get in Shane Walsh’s good books is to kill someone. Who would’ve guessed?
“Breathe,” Mei whispers in his ear, though she sounds just as ragged as he feels. “It’s okay, breathe, Glenn. We have to be strong for Maggie.”
Maggie.
How’s he going to tell her? How’s he going to look her in the eye and tell her that he shot her farther? Yeah, she asked him to do it but asking and finding out that hey, the guy you’re sleeping with just shot your dad are two very different things.
“We’ll get there when we get there,” Meiri says. “Just breathe.”
Glenn does, slowly, deeply, and comes back to himself gradually, shutting out the anger, the fear, the feeling of a warm gun recoiling in his hands. He’s alright. He’s fine. He’s got this.
He lets himself lean on Daryl and Rick, letting them take some of the weight. Shane trails behind, his Kali watching everything with her sharp eyes. T-Dog falls in beside them, quiet, guilty. Together they make their way around the building to the front door, and Rick pushes it open.
It’s a little brighter inside now that it’s day, but without electricity it’s stull murky and gloomy. Glenn hears voices floating from down the hall-everyone’s probably in the main room, waiting for news.
“I’ll tell Maggie,” Rick says. “I’ll tell her what happened.”
“Hell, I’ll take the blame for it,” Shane adds.
Daryl nods, agreeing. “She won’t doubt that one of us did it.”
Glenn tries to smile.
“Glenn,” Meiri hisses in his ear. She won’t let him take the easy way out of this, not this time. He swallows more vomit and tries to even out the shaking in his hands.
“I’ll tell her,” he says. “And I’ll take responsibility too. It’s okay.”
“You don’t have to-” Rick starts, but Glenn cuts him off, shrugging free of his and Daryl’s support to stand on his own.
“She asked me to shoot him,” Glenn says. “She made me promise that I would, if he was bit. She didn’t want him to die in pain from the fever and come back. She wanted him to go quickly, so he didn’t suffer."
“Huh,” Daryl says, scratching his chin. Cahir’s eyes flash; the wolf’s either angry or amused. “You got balls, Short Round. You n’ Fuzzy both.”
This time, Meiri doesn’t even bristle at being called ‘Fuzzy.’ She noses Glenn’s cheek, her eyes big and sad and bright. “See?” she says. “They’re watching your back.”
Glenn does smile now, a little bit. “I know.”
Together they walk down the hallways and into the big room. At once every head turns to them, looking for Hershel and Ashling, and almost just as fast disappointment and sadness flicker through the groups.
Beth starts to cry quietly, muffling her hand in her fist. Jimmy hugs her tightly, whispering in her ear. Patricia goes to comfort both of them and Maggie stands up shakily, unsteady like the world’s dancing under her feet. Luke, though, is perfectly still, perfectly calm. His green eyes are flat and dull.
“Glenn,” she says. “Did you shoot him? Was he-was he still alive, when you found him?”
Glenn swallows, looks to Daryl and Rick for support. They nod at him and Cahir blinks solemnly up at Mei.
“Steady,” he murmurs.
“He was alive,” Glenn says. Beth’s sobs grow louder, her shoulders shaking with them. “We found him in the middle of an attack. He’d killed one walker but a couple others overpowered him. We took care of them, but he was already bit.”
Maggie’s face crumples, but she doesn’t cry.
“There were more walkers coming,” Glenn continues. He can’t stop now, he has to get it all out. “He wanted us to go, to leave him. He said he wasn’t afraid…”
“And did you?” Maggie asks, harshly, the start of anger flaring in Luke’s dulled eyes. “Did you leave my father to get eaten?”
Everyone holds their breath.
“No,” Glenn says. “I shot him.”
“And he died? You’re sure he died?”
“Ashling turned to dust. I saw it.”
“I did too,” Daryl adds. Cahir blinks lazily. “He got your dad right between the eyes. Old man probably didn’t even feel it.”
For a second Maggie trembles, like a guitar string pulled to tight, and then the anger goes out of her daemon’s eyes and she deflates. “You didn’t let him suffer anymore?”
Glenn shakes his head and Mei presses against his neck, warm, soft, solid.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Part of Glenn aches. He hurts for her, because all her family but Beth is dead now and her dad just died, and he wants to go hug her, crush that sadness right out of her, but he doesn’t know if he should.
Cahir snorts quietly and Rick clears his throat, drawing the attention away from Glenn and Maggie.
“Shane and I reached an agreement last night,” he says, moving away from Glenn to stand closer to the group. Everyone’s eyes follow him, and now, free of attention, Daryl kicks Glenn in the ankle.
Glenn jerks and glares.
Daryl gives him a look that says you are seriously not this stupid, go be with your girl, dumbass, and draws his foot back again.
Glenn goes, holding his arms open, and Maggie half-collapses into them, shaking so hard she feels like she’s going to fly apart underneath his hands. Luke winds against her legs, mewing anxiously, his green eyes huge and lost.
“It’s okay,” he mumbles into her hair. “It’s okay, he’s not hurting anymore.”
Maggie shakes against him even harder, but she does not cry.
They stay like that, holding on to each other, and Meiri hops down to curl up at Luke’s feet. In the background Beth sobs quietly and T-Dog paces, Ilya’s ears pinned to her head. Rick keeps talking, and Shane steps in now. They’re sharing their plan.
“Listen,” Glenn whispers.
“Fort Benning and the Republic can’t be far-less than ten miles. If we leave pretty early tomorrow, we can get there by noon, easy,” Shane says, planting his hands on his hips.
“We’ve had a day to rest,” Rick adds. “Now I know it hasn’t been very restful, but it’s better than running the whole time. We can make good time tomorrow, get to the Fort safe. We’ll be fine.”
Another guarantee. Another “we’ll be fine” or “it’s okay.” They lost another person today, Glenn realizes. A person, a human life, a survivor. Glenn’s starting to lose track of how many people they’ve lost.
Jim. Jacqui. The Morales family-not dead, but out there alone, so as good as-and everyone who died in the attack. Dr. Edwin Jenner and his wife. Hundreds of people in the bombing of Atlanta, more to the infection. All his friends and neighbors. Sophia. Hershel.
Suddenly, Glenn wishes he had stopped to cut Ashling’s name into a piece of wood, so Hershel could take her name to wherever the dead went, so they’d be together in the end. It feels wrong that they just left him there to get picked clean by the walkers. They should’ve buried him, like they buried Sophia.
He wishes he could go back and carve Elemiah for Jacqui, or Rei for Jim, or Olly for Sophia, so they could find their daemons again.
No one should be without their soul, even if they were dead. No one.
Meiri pulls back from Luke a little, blinking up at Glenn sadly. “What will you do?” she whispers.
Glenn smiles into Maggie’s hair. He feels like he’s going to be sick again and his hands tremble. “I’ll come back to you later,” he says softly. “I have to do something first.”
Reluctantly Maggie nods, pulling back so he can go. Luke jumps into his arms and she holds him tight. They’ll be okay. They’re strong. Maggie has a little sister to be brave for, a family to lead, a journey to finish.
She’ll be okay again.
con't
Fandom: The Walking Dead, HDM AU
Characters/Pairings: Ensemble cast & canon pairings with a dash of Glenn/Daryl later
Word Count: ~6,684 (this part)
A/N: Takes place after 2x7. If you have any questions about names or forms, just ask!
Daemons (Rick's Group): Meiri | Cahir | Eliora (El) | Kali | Cassiel (Cass) | Nurya | Brooklyn | Gazini | Ilya
Herhsel's Group: Luke | Ashling
Other: Hekate (Merle's daemon)
Part One Part Two
“And they that dwell on the earth shall wonder, whose names were not written in the Book of Life from the foundation of the world, when they behold the beast that was, and is not, and yet is.” -Revelation 17:8
Where the Soul Goes
“Stupid old man,” Shane mutters, shouldering his way through the dense trees. “Hell's he thinkin’, charging off without anybody.”
“He ain’t thinkin’,” Daryl says. “Think we all know that. He’s gone crazy. You heard him, screamin’ shit at the top of his lungs. Old bastard didn’t even know who his own kid was.”
Glenn remembers the haunted look on Maggie’s face and Meiri pokes her head out of the pack to nuzzle his ear.
“She’ll be okay,” his daemon whispers. “Maggie’s tough.”
I hope she is, Glenn doesn’t say. We probably won’t find her dad alive.
No one seems to want to say it, but Hershel’s probably dead. They all know it. No one, except maybe Rick and a tiny, tiny part of Glenn, thinks he’s alive.
They’ve learned from last time.
“Don’t think like that,” Meiri hisses. Glenn shrugs.
“I can’t help it,” he hisses back. “We’re all thinking it.”
Meiri chuffs angrily and disappears back into the pack. Low, miserable anger twists in his gut, and he knows it’s hers.
“This way,” Cahir calls, eyes glowing. Hershel’s trail is pretty easy to read, even for a city kid like Glenn, all trampled leaves, deep footprints, and snapped branches. Hershel doesn’t seem to be going in any real direction, just stumbling around through the woods aimlessly, driven by whatever's broken inside him.
Glenn finds a crow’s feather caught in some branches. He wants to touch it, but doesn’t.
“Looks like a rabid dog,” Daryl says.
“Uh, what?”
“The footprints.” Daryl points to the uneven steps. “He’s walkin’ crooked, see? Like a rabid dog.”
“Oh.” Glenn squints, and he can kinda see it, Hershel stumbling and swaying side to side, foot to foot, lurching, like he’d forgotten how to walk steady.
Like a walker, he gets from Meiri, and his blood runs cold.
“You sure we’re tracking Hershel? Not a walker?”
Daryl’s lip curves and he pulls the crow’s feather out of the branches. “We’re gonna find out real soon, huh?”
Glenn’s fingers curl tighter around his gun. “If he’s a walker-” How would he tell Maggie? Hershel’s her dad. She’d lost her mom and her brother to it already, what would she do if she lost him too?
Don’t be dead, he thinks viciously, like Hershel can hear him. If you die out here, she’ll never forgive you.
Meiri noses out of the pack, resting her head on Glenn’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” she whispers. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“This way!” Cahir shouts, and Glenn sees the tip of his tail whip out of sight. Daryl races after him and the rest follow. Rick nods at his daemon and she bounds from his side, going farther away from Rick than Glenn ever wants Meiri to go.
“We ain’t gonna find him alive,” Shane says, just loud enough for Glenn to hear. “He’s gonna be dead or worse, Rick.”
Rick’s mouth thins but he doesn’t say anything, and Meiri growls next to Glenn’s ear.
Don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.
They burst into a clearing and Glenn nearly falls over a body.
“Walker!” Mei hisses.
For a second he panics, scrambling for his gun and yanking his legs away from the thing’s hands,
It’s dead. It's so decayed Glenn can’t even tell if it had been a man or a woman and yellowed scraps of bone jab out of tattered clothes and rotten skin. The smell’s awful and it’s face up with its head bashed in, blood drying black and crusty on its face. Its teeth are bright red.
Oh shit. Oh shit, please no.
Glenn staggers a couple of steps backwards, sickness spinning in his gut, and that’s when he hears a crow’s screech. He turns, drawing his gun, and without pausing to think fires at towards the sound. There’s the squish of decayed flesh and a harsh gurgle in the undergrowth, and the crow-Ashling-screams again.
Rick and Shane are in the bushes before he can blink, Glenn and Daryl close behind, daemons snarling. Glenn has maybe two seconds to take it all in-one walker has a hold of Ashling and rips at her wings, the other has its teeth in Hershel-before the walkers are dead and the crow tumbles back to her man’s shoulder.
Oh shit.
Nobody speaks.
“Guess you were right,” Daryl says after a few seconds, and El pads back to Rick’s side, nosing his hands sadly.
Hershel sits propped up against a tree and they all can see the wound on his arm.
Meat and skin dangle loose right above his wrist, soaking his lap in blood, and he’s missing the last two fingers on his left hand. He’s still breathing shallowly, and Ashling leans against his head, her tiny breast heaving. The walker got her wing pretty bad, nearly tearing it out, and already little streams of golden dust unravel from her feathers.
She’s dying.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, Glenn thinks, and cuddles Meiri close. His throat burns.
“Oh, Christ,” Rick mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. His fingers shake and El whines, muttering something low and soft.
“Meiri,” Glenn whispers, “Mei, what am I gonna tell Maggie?”
She makes a ragged, harsh sound, dropping down into his arms to curl up against his heartbeat. She’s shaking, tremors racing through her fur up into his arms, and if daemons cried, she would.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m sorry, Glenn, I don’t know.”
He feels like there’s a hand inside his chest, squeezing his heart and lungs. He can’t breathe, and Meiri shivers against his chest.
What am I going to tell Maggie? His fingers tighten around the gun.
“He’s still alive,” Shane points out. Kali bares her teeth, eyeing Hershel. “And you know there’s more of ‘em around here. Where there’s one, there’s probably more. We found him. Now we gotta go.”
“And leave him here?” Rick says, dropping his hand. “Leave him here to get eaten alive, or die and come walking back to us?”
“We can shoot him,” Daryl suggests. Meiri straightens up in Cahir’s arms.
Glenn, she says.
“I’ve already said, we don’t shoot the living,” Rick snaps.
“C’mon, man, don’t be stupid. He’s gonna die. He’s gonna die in awful pain, just like Jim did.” Shane’s eyes glitter, and Glenn pulls his mind away from Maggie and the tightness in his chest. Meiri climbs back onto his shoulder and stands very still and straight. “D’you want another death like that on your conscience?”
Rick stops, drawing back and blinking. He looks at Hershel, then at his daemon. “El?”
The wolf-dog holds her man’s eyes, and slowly drops her head.
“We should ask him,” Glenn says quickly, before he can stop himself. Shit. Maggie told me to shoot him. I promised her I’d shoot him…
“Naw, man, let’s just get this over with,” Shane says, already drawing his gun. “I’ll make it real quick, you can tell your girl that.” He drew, aiming, one eye closed. “Kali, wanna grab the bird?”
The black dog shoots forward, teeth flashing, ready to rip into the dying crow.
“Don’t!”
Cahir leaps, eyes flashing, and Kali yelps, rolling over in the dirt. She jumps back to her feet and snarls at Daryl’s wolf, fur spiking aggressively.
“What the hell, man,” Shane snaps, dropping his gun and glaring furiously at Daryl. “The fuck you tryin’ to pull?”
Daryl glares right back. “Short Round says don’t.”
“You take orders from the kid now?”
“Hey!”
“I don’t take orders from nobody,” Daryl shoots back. “But he’s been right before, ain’t he? Listen to him. He’s datin’ the man’s daughter.”
“So that makes him what, family-by-proxy?” Shane says. Kali’s lips pull back and her teeth glitter. In that second, she looks more wolf than even Cahir, and El bounds over to hold them apart, if she needs to.
“Stop it,” Rick says, tiredly. “Glenn’s the only one who hasn’t said anything so far. Let’s hear what he’s got to say.”
Thanks, Glenn mouths at Daryl. Meiri jumps from his shoulder and scrambles onto Cahir’s head, baring her tiny teeth at Kali.
Glenn takes a deep breath.
“We should ask him,” he says. “Hershel, I mean. We should ask him what he wants us to do, like we asked Jim. Maggie told me shoot him, but… If he knows who he is, we should ask before we kill him.”
Rick tilts his head. “Okay.”
“C’mon, man, you can’t be serious! He ain’t even lucid, how the hell’s he gonna choose whether or not he wants to live?”
“We should ask him anyway. If he’s lucid, we’ll do what he says. If he’s not…”
“If he’s not, we’re shooting him,” Shane says flatly, and the fury leaves his shoulders. Kali drops her snarl.
Rick bows his head. “We’ll shoot him.”
“I’ll shoot him,” Glenn says, swallowing. He steps forward and raises his head.
Glenn, Mei says softly.
I promised Maggie.
Shane nods and tucks his gun away. Meiri stays on Cahir’s head, and Glenn goes to stand beside Daryl.
“Why’d you do that?” he mutters, so Shane can’t hear. “Stick up for me, I mean.”
Daryl shrugs.
“Hershel,” Rick says, carefully stepping next to the bloody man. “Hershel, it’s Rick, Rick Grimes. Can you hear me?”
Hershel doesn’t move.
Shane kicks him and they see more wounds, scratches, shallower bites. On his shoulder, Ashling stirs.
“He’s awake,” Glenn says. He comes a little closer and tries not to look at the mess that used to be Hershel’s left hand. “Hershel? Dr. Greene?”
“He’s sayin’ something.” Rick leans in, careful to keep his head out of snapping distance in case Hershel tries to bite his ear off. El presses against his legs, ready to bite if she has too.
Rick’s face turns white. “‘All who die must enter’,” he says, and straightens up. “He’s talkin’ nonsense again.”
“So let’s shoot him.” Shane raises his gun again.
“Wait.”
“What now?”
“Ashling,” Glenn says, and points. Sure enough, the crow’s moving, staggering to her feet and balancing drunkenly on Hershel’s shoulder.
Her beady eyes gleam,and she hops down to stand in front of the four men and their daemons. Her left wing trails in the dirt and she sways.
“Grimes,” she says, hoarsely. “Glenn.”
“Uh,” Glenn says, and drops to his knees. Meiri comes down off of Cahir’s head to sit beside him, eyeing the crow sadly.
Rick does the same, kneeling in the dirt. Daryl and Shane stay standing, holding their weapons tight.
“What happened to you?” Rick says gently.
“You killed them,” the crow says. “You killed our family.”
Rick winces.
“There were the sick out here, in the woods. We got around most of them.” Ashling sways, nearly falls over. Her feathers are blurring now, and Glenn sees tiny little streams of dust spin up from them. She’s dying.
“But not all of them,” he says.
She laughs, and it comes out like a croak. “No. Not all of them. That one,” she points with her good wing, “came at us from behind. We didn’t see him. He got us. I told Hershel… I told him…”
She staggers again, and Meiri rushes forward to catch her so she doesn’t fall.
“Why’d you leave the group?”
The crow shudders, her eyes glassy and fevered. “We heard.”
“Heard?”
If crows could smile, this one would be. “God laughing,” she whispers. “And the angels crying. The souls calling out for the Republic of Heaven, eager to drink of its waters. Their lips are still dry.”
What…?
“We are going to the Republic of Heaven,” Ashling whispers softly. “We can see it now…”
“You’ve been infected,” Glenn tells her, before Rick can speak. “You’ve been bitten. You’re dying.”
The crow looks down at her fading feathers. “Yes. I think we are.”
“We can take care of you,” Shane speaks up, loudly. “Save you some suffering. It’ll be quick.”
Ashling looks up at him, her beady eyes hard.
“No,” Hershel whispers, and Glenn sees that his eyes are open. “Don’t shoot us. We’re not animals who need to be put down.”
Rabid dog, Daryl’s voice echoes.
Meiri lets go of Ashling and creeps back to Glenn’s side.
“You’re gonna die,” Shane says, and the hard, gleaming edge slips into his voice again. “You’re gonna die either way. The virus’ll kill you, or we’ll kill you. We’ll just be a helluva lot quicker ‘bout it.”
Hershel laughs wetly. “You’re looking for the Republic of Heaven. What makes you think you’ll find it, Mr. Walsh? What makes any of you think you’ll find it?”
“We know where it is,” Daryl says. “Fort Benning.”
“Are you sure?”
“The hell d’you mean?”
Hershel’s eyes glitter. “All who die must enter, but not all who enter must die.”
“What does that mean?” Rick asks. “That’s twice you’ve said it now.”
The old man smiles, cradling his mangled, bloody arm. Ashling painfully climbs into his lap, and he grips her ruined, dusty feathers. “You should know. You’ve been there, after all.”
“Been where?”
Glenn frowns, confused now, looking between Rick and Hershel. “What’s he talking about?”
“Shh,” Meiri whispers. Her fur stands on end. “Listen.”
“Walkers!” Daryl hisses, suddenly, and everyone’s heads snaps up. Glenn could see them a couple hundred feet away, shuffling through the trees.
“Get in my pack, Mei.”
“No-”
“Mei,” he says, and she climbs back into the pack. The walkers haven’t seen them yet, but there are at least five, now ten, now more, stumbling towards them.
“Rick, we gotta go, man. Make a choice. Shoot him.”
Rick nods, and draws his own gun. “Hershel, they’re coming. D’you have anything you want to say to Maggie?”
“Don’t shoot me.”
“C’mon, man-”
“Shane. Hershel, quickly now, d’you have anything to say to your daughter?”
“Glenn,” Meiri whispers. “Glenn, listen to him.”
Daryl knocks a bolt, and Cahir growls, low and deep.
“Leave me,” Hershel says. “I do not fear the wrath of God. He is angry…. He is angry with me. Perhaps this is my punishment. Tell Maggie I’ll see her mother soon. Tell her it didn’t hurt.”
The tightness in Glenn’s chest swells, into his stomach, his hands. The gun he’s holding shakes. I can’t. “Mr. Greene-”
“You watch out for my daughter.” Hershel’s eyes flare, and his arm drips. “Protect her.”
“I will,” Glenn swore. “I will, I promise.”
“Rick,” says the old man.
“Rick, c’mon, man, they’re gettin’ closer,” Shane says, rocking back, half-turned to run. “We gotta set a trail away from camp.
“All who die must enter,” Hershel rasps, to Rick and Rick alone. “All who die must go.”
“What-”
“Rick,” Shane snarls, and he and Daryl grab the cop by the collar, pulling him away from Hershel.
“What do you mean!” Rick calls, and El turns back even though Cahir and Kali are shoving at her. The walkers have seen them now, and snarl hungrily.
“They’re going to eat him,” Meiri whispers. “Glenn, you have to shoot him. You have to.,”
“Hershel! What do you mean?”
“Where does the soul go?” Ashling cries, raising her good wing. “Where does the soul go, when it dies?”
The first walker, skin hanging off him in ropes, reaches Hershel, and grabs for Ashling.
“Tell them stories!” the crow shrieks, above the walker roar. She doesn’t fight when she’s pulled up towards hungry bared teeth.
“Oh, Glenn,” Meiri cries.
Glenn locks eyes with Hershel across the clearing and Daryl shouts at him, telling him to go, to run, to leave Hershel and get the hell out of there.
“I promised Maggie,” he whispers. His gun is heavy.
“Our Father, who art in Heaven,” Hershel says, closing his eyes, and Glenn fires once. Blood and brains splatter the nearest walker and Ashling bursts into dusty golden light with one last, mournful cry.
Hershel is dead, and Glenn runs.
*
After a few hours, Rick decides it’s safe to go back. They ditched the walker herd four or five miles west, well away from them and the path to Fort Benning, and if they don’t go back soon, the rest of the group will be out in force looking for them.
The last thing they need is to lose more people.
It’s past noon when they make their way back, following Daryl through the woods.
No one talks much.
Rick and Shane mutter at each other, planning out the move from camp to the fort, but even their talk is quiet, crushed.
I shot a living person, Glenn thinks, over and over again. Meiri clings to his shoulder, shivering slightly, and her claws dig into his skin. I shot my girlfriend’s father.
He’s not sure how he feels about that, just yet.
“You promised Maggie,” Mei says fiercely. “You promised her, and you saved him and Ashling a lot of pain. You did a good thing, Glenn.”
“Yeah,” he mutters. He should believe her. She’s his daemon, after all, his smarter, better soul, and she’s always right, always.
But he shot a man who asked not to be shot, and that feels like murder.
He wants to throw up.
He doesn’t have time to, though. They’re getting pretty close to the building again (he’s starting to recognize some trees. Maybe. He thinks, anyway) and he doesn’t want to get sick in front of Maggie or his own people.
I did what I had to do, he tells himself. Meiri cuddles close, nuzzling his ear. I did what I had to do.
Through the trees the building swims into view, half-hidden by piles of dirt and the dense woods. Glenn sees T-Dog leaning against the side, a gun propped next to him, his daemon sitting tame by his feet. Ilya’s big ears twitch as they approach and she chuffs a hello. Only El wuffs back. The rest stay quiet.
“Is he dead?” T-Dog asks. Glenn sees guilt flash in his eyes and he’s suddenly, stupidly pissed because T-Dog was supposed to be on guard, wasn’t he? He was supposed to keep everyone safe, to watch over them, but he let Hershel slip away.
It’s his fault Hershel was out in the woods in the first place.
Meiri bares her teeth, fur bristling aggressively.
He’s hyper-aware of the gun stuffed in his jeans and for half a second he imagines grabbing it, firing it-
And then he doubles over and throws up, coughing up last night’s spam violently, so hard he shakes. His knees shudder and he sways but before he can fall, he’s supported on either side.
Rick and Daryl hold him up, one on either side, their wolfish daemons flanking them.
“You okay, man?” Shane asks. Even he looks concerned, just a little, and some tiny part of Glenn is laughing hysterically. Looks like the way to get in Shane Walsh’s good books is to kill someone. Who would’ve guessed?
“Breathe,” Mei whispers in his ear, though she sounds just as ragged as he feels. “It’s okay, breathe, Glenn. We have to be strong for Maggie.”
Maggie.
How’s he going to tell her? How’s he going to look her in the eye and tell her that he shot her farther? Yeah, she asked him to do it but asking and finding out that hey, the guy you’re sleeping with just shot your dad are two very different things.
“We’ll get there when we get there,” Meiri says. “Just breathe.”
Glenn does, slowly, deeply, and comes back to himself gradually, shutting out the anger, the fear, the feeling of a warm gun recoiling in his hands. He’s alright. He’s fine. He’s got this.
He lets himself lean on Daryl and Rick, letting them take some of the weight. Shane trails behind, his Kali watching everything with her sharp eyes. T-Dog falls in beside them, quiet, guilty. Together they make their way around the building to the front door, and Rick pushes it open.
It’s a little brighter inside now that it’s day, but without electricity it’s stull murky and gloomy. Glenn hears voices floating from down the hall-everyone’s probably in the main room, waiting for news.
“I’ll tell Maggie,” Rick says. “I’ll tell her what happened.”
“Hell, I’ll take the blame for it,” Shane adds.
Daryl nods, agreeing. “She won’t doubt that one of us did it.”
Glenn tries to smile.
“Glenn,” Meiri hisses in his ear. She won’t let him take the easy way out of this, not this time. He swallows more vomit and tries to even out the shaking in his hands.
“I’ll tell her,” he says. “And I’ll take responsibility too. It’s okay.”
“You don’t have to-” Rick starts, but Glenn cuts him off, shrugging free of his and Daryl’s support to stand on his own.
“She asked me to shoot him,” Glenn says. “She made me promise that I would, if he was bit. She didn’t want him to die in pain from the fever and come back. She wanted him to go quickly, so he didn’t suffer."
“Huh,” Daryl says, scratching his chin. Cahir’s eyes flash; the wolf’s either angry or amused. “You got balls, Short Round. You n’ Fuzzy both.”
This time, Meiri doesn’t even bristle at being called ‘Fuzzy.’ She noses Glenn’s cheek, her eyes big and sad and bright. “See?” she says. “They’re watching your back.”
Glenn does smile now, a little bit. “I know.”
Together they walk down the hallways and into the big room. At once every head turns to them, looking for Hershel and Ashling, and almost just as fast disappointment and sadness flicker through the groups.
Beth starts to cry quietly, muffling her hand in her fist. Jimmy hugs her tightly, whispering in her ear. Patricia goes to comfort both of them and Maggie stands up shakily, unsteady like the world’s dancing under her feet. Luke, though, is perfectly still, perfectly calm. His green eyes are flat and dull.
“Glenn,” she says. “Did you shoot him? Was he-was he still alive, when you found him?”
Glenn swallows, looks to Daryl and Rick for support. They nod at him and Cahir blinks solemnly up at Mei.
“Steady,” he murmurs.
“He was alive,” Glenn says. Beth’s sobs grow louder, her shoulders shaking with them. “We found him in the middle of an attack. He’d killed one walker but a couple others overpowered him. We took care of them, but he was already bit.”
Maggie’s face crumples, but she doesn’t cry.
“There were more walkers coming,” Glenn continues. He can’t stop now, he has to get it all out. “He wanted us to go, to leave him. He said he wasn’t afraid…”
“And did you?” Maggie asks, harshly, the start of anger flaring in Luke’s dulled eyes. “Did you leave my father to get eaten?”
Everyone holds their breath.
“No,” Glenn says. “I shot him.”
“And he died? You’re sure he died?”
“Ashling turned to dust. I saw it.”
“I did too,” Daryl adds. Cahir blinks lazily. “He got your dad right between the eyes. Old man probably didn’t even feel it.”
For a second Maggie trembles, like a guitar string pulled to tight, and then the anger goes out of her daemon’s eyes and she deflates. “You didn’t let him suffer anymore?”
Glenn shakes his head and Mei presses against his neck, warm, soft, solid.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Part of Glenn aches. He hurts for her, because all her family but Beth is dead now and her dad just died, and he wants to go hug her, crush that sadness right out of her, but he doesn’t know if he should.
Cahir snorts quietly and Rick clears his throat, drawing the attention away from Glenn and Maggie.
“Shane and I reached an agreement last night,” he says, moving away from Glenn to stand closer to the group. Everyone’s eyes follow him, and now, free of attention, Daryl kicks Glenn in the ankle.
Glenn jerks and glares.
Daryl gives him a look that says you are seriously not this stupid, go be with your girl, dumbass, and draws his foot back again.
Glenn goes, holding his arms open, and Maggie half-collapses into them, shaking so hard she feels like she’s going to fly apart underneath his hands. Luke winds against her legs, mewing anxiously, his green eyes huge and lost.
“It’s okay,” he mumbles into her hair. “It’s okay, he’s not hurting anymore.”
Maggie shakes against him even harder, but she does not cry.
They stay like that, holding on to each other, and Meiri hops down to curl up at Luke’s feet. In the background Beth sobs quietly and T-Dog paces, Ilya’s ears pinned to her head. Rick keeps talking, and Shane steps in now. They’re sharing their plan.
“Listen,” Glenn whispers.
“Fort Benning and the Republic can’t be far-less than ten miles. If we leave pretty early tomorrow, we can get there by noon, easy,” Shane says, planting his hands on his hips.
“We’ve had a day to rest,” Rick adds. “Now I know it hasn’t been very restful, but it’s better than running the whole time. We can make good time tomorrow, get to the Fort safe. We’ll be fine.”
Another guarantee. Another “we’ll be fine” or “it’s okay.” They lost another person today, Glenn realizes. A person, a human life, a survivor. Glenn’s starting to lose track of how many people they’ve lost.
Jim. Jacqui. The Morales family-not dead, but out there alone, so as good as-and everyone who died in the attack. Dr. Edwin Jenner and his wife. Hundreds of people in the bombing of Atlanta, more to the infection. All his friends and neighbors. Sophia. Hershel.
Suddenly, Glenn wishes he had stopped to cut Ashling’s name into a piece of wood, so Hershel could take her name to wherever the dead went, so they’d be together in the end. It feels wrong that they just left him there to get picked clean by the walkers. They should’ve buried him, like they buried Sophia.
He wishes he could go back and carve Elemiah for Jacqui, or Rei for Jim, or Olly for Sophia, so they could find their daemons again.
No one should be without their soul, even if they were dead. No one.
Meiri pulls back from Luke a little, blinking up at Glenn sadly. “What will you do?” she whispers.
Glenn smiles into Maggie’s hair. He feels like he’s going to be sick again and his hands tremble. “I’ll come back to you later,” he says softly. “I have to do something first.”
Reluctantly Maggie nods, pulling back so he can go. Luke jumps into his arms and she holds him tight. They’ll be okay. They’re strong. Maggie has a little sister to be brave for, a family to lead, a journey to finish.
She’ll be okay again.
con't