[ vii. romeo and juliet ]

november 1st, 2012

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ASTRID DIXON WAS SEARCHING for him.

Though it was entirely impossible, with looting Saviors wreaking havoc through the Alexandria Safe Zone, plundering its once-beautiful homes as if they were already long abandoned.  They had taken everything: medicine, clothes, weapons—even their mattresses.

But there was one place still untouched by the savages. The cemetery, on the outskirts of the community.  It was here, amidst the freshly turned graves, that Astrid temporarily ceased her search and fell to surrender.  She sank to her knees beside Bailey's grave, the only place that still held any meaning.

The tiny grave was isolated, surrounded by empty plots meant for Abraham, Glenn, and Maggie. These empty spaces were more than just a tribute; they were part of a ruse. Maggie was alive, hidden away at the Hilltop to keep her safe. The Saviors needed to believe she was dead, for if Negan discovered the truth, he would hunt her down just as he had Astrid.  He would terrorize her.  Destroy what little peace she had left.

Astrid could not let that happen.  She was willing to bear the pain, the spotlight of a madman, so that her widowed friend would not have to.

Though it had not been a light decision. Well. For those around her, that was.

Rick and Aaron had tried to convince Astrid to stay at the Hilltop Colony, too, but she refused. Alexandria was her home; Hilltop was not, no matter how many assurances Dr. Carson gave her in aiding her through the remainder of her pregnancy. Besides—the thought of living near Gregory, knowing she might finally kill him in a fit of rage, was unbearable. Better to stay in Alexandria, where her anger had a clearer target.

A chill wind cut through the cemetery, stirring her from her thoughts. She stared at the fresh mound of dirt before her, the cold seeping into her bones. But it was nothing compared to the chill that had settled in her heart since Negan's arrival.

"What do I do, Bailey?" Astrid whispered to the earth. "Someone has to end this. We can't let it go. You, Glenn, Abraham—you deserve so much more."

Her words faded into the quiet, the line between reality and fantasy blurring as exhaustion took hold. A part of her almost expected a response, a sign that the world had not completely descended into madness. If Bailey's hand had clawed its way through the earth, declaring she was alive, Astrid might not have been shocked at all.

But Bailey was gone.

With her dying breath, her last concern had been for the child growing inside Astrid, and now, more than ever, Astrid was determined to honor that. Her son would not live in fear, would not know hunger, would not wonder if they would see another day. He would be strong, carrying the fierce blood of the Dixons and the Lancasters. The world would one day fear him, not the other way around.

The sudden sound of voices snapped Astrid back to the present. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Negan round the corner, flanked by Rick and Daryl. The latter men's eyes were cast downward, burdened by dangerous weights all their own. But when Daryl finally looked up, his gaze locked with Astrid's, and in that moment, the world fell away. She could not look away from him.

She longed to read the thoughts behind his hollow glance, but, as always, his face betrayed nothing. The man she had married, once so unbreakable, was now shattered, the pain etched clearly in his watery, bloodshot eyes. Not even when Dwight had shot him, when he had laid dying in her arms, had he looked this defeated. Negan had done more than just hurt him—he had torn into his soul, subjected him to horrors and abuse she could not even begin to fathom. Maybe it was better she did not know the details, but that did not stop her from needing to. She had to find a way to bring her husband back, to sever the invisible chains binding him, even if she had to tear them apart with her own teeth.

"Lookie here! It's the hottie!"

Astrid rose defensively from her crouch, her spine stiffening as Negan boldly approached, his smirk fading the moment his eyes landed on the grave beside her boots. His bravado faltered, and for a brief second, his mask slipped. "Oh, fuck . . ." he murmured, his tone uncharacteristically subdued. "Is this the little one?"

When Astrid did not respond, Negan sighed dramatically. "I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I'm terribly fucking sorry. Really. On behalf of my motherfucking bastard of a right-hand man too."

Astrid's vision clouded with red. Simon.

The rage within her ignited, a white-hot fury that wanted to tear Simon apart with her bare hands.  But that would not be enough. She wanted his leader, too.  Instantly, her eyes slid back toward Negan's.

He needed to know she was coming for him, that he was not safe from her wrath. He might not have pulled the trigger, but he had commanded it, and for that, she would be the one to end him. She would take Lucille, his precious bat, and make him feel every ounce of pain he had caused. Bailey, Glenn, Abraham—they would have their vengeance.

Without a word, she spun on her heel, fists clenched at her sides and began to walk away. Negan called after her, his words laced with false concern, but she did not acknowledge him. Fear was a luxury she no longer afforded herself.  Only anger remained.

As she stepped out of the cemetery boundaries and onto the street, she eventually found Aaron Raleigh. He crossed to her side quickly.

Since Bailey's death, Aaron had rarely left Astrid's side.  He had helped her bury the child, and clean out her room, all the while ensuring Astrid remained healthy for the baby growing inside her. Remembering how pitifully she had looked upon the man at their first meeting, she never would have imagined growing so close to Aaron, but now, she could not imagine facing this new battle against the Saviors without him.

She lifted her brows, expecting a greeting, but his voice was soft, heavy with unspoken dread. "There are two guns missing."

Astrid kept her expression neutral, her attention drifting to a group of Saviors hauling another mattress from a nearby home. "So?" she asked.

"Negan wants all our weapons collected," Aaron explained. "If those guns aren't found, he'll kill Olivia."

Astrid's muscles tensed.  Automatically, her mind began to race, but she refused to let panic take hold. She bit down on her bottom lip, considering her options. "Do you have any idea where they could be?" she prodded.

Aaron shook his head. "No," he said flatly. "No one knows when those guns were last seen. They could have been hidden by someone who's no longer even here. Eugene suspects it might be Spencer or Rosita—they're both good at hiding things. But since they're out on that supply run, we can't track them down."

"Why don't we search their houses?" Astrid suggested.

Aaron hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "Astrid," he began.

She steeled herself. "They won't notice the difference between our looting and theirs."

Without waiting for his response, she headed straight for the Monroe house, sensing Aaron falling into step behind her. As they approached, Astrid shot a nasty glare at a nearby Savior before storming inside, only to find herself face-to-face with Gabriel, who seemed to have the same idea. Moments later, Rick entered the house, and without a word, they each split off to search in different directions.

Astrid marched into the kitchen.  She yanked open drawers and swung open cabinet doors with relentless force. She tried to think like Spencer, envisioning where he might stash the guns. She even tore through the fridge and rummaged through cereal boxes, but every effort came up empty.

Aaron appeared in the kitchen a moment later.  Astrid eyed him momentarily, following his eyes as they landed on a half-open bag of jerky left behind by some careless thief. "Have you eaten anything?" he asked. When she did not respond and turned away, he pressed on. "Astrid?"

"No," she admitted with a shake of her head.

"When was the last time you ate?" he continued.

"I don't know," she threw over her shoulder. "It doesn't matter."

"It does. Astrid—"

"I'll just throw it up anyway."

"You need to eat something," Aaron urged, tone firm but gentle.

"Right now, we need to find these guns," she retorted. "Someone else is going to die if we don't. I'm not hungry, Aaron. Believe me." As if on cue, her stomach rumbled, but it was not the pang of hunger—it was a nauseous churn, a reminder that her body was running on fumes. She clenched her jaw, forcing the feeling down. "I'm fine," she insisted tersely.

"We should get you to see Carson," Aaron murmured, falling into step beside her as they continued to search. "He can help. Do you have any prenatal vitamins left?"

"No," Astrid replied bitterly. "The Saviors took them."

Before Aaron could protest further, a shout echoed through the house. "I got it!" Rick's voice rang out from the study.

Astrid and Aaron rushed out of the kitchen, but Rick was already gone, racing to find Negan before it was too late. As Astrid approached the spot where Rick had found the guns, she noticed the floorboards still pulled up, revealing the hiding place beneath. She pursed her lips, a grudging respect forming for Spencer's ingenuity. She would never have thought to hide a weapon there.

But now, there was no time for admiration—only action.

By the time Astrid and Aaron made it back outside, Negan was already at the loading truck, slapping its side with a grin that was more a threat than a smile. "Well, lucky for you, another life has been spared," he announced. "Alright, boys, let's load up! It's time to go the fuck home!"

The Saviors moved as one, though several Alexandrians lingered, ensuring their ransacking was truly finished. As the two groups made their way to the front gates of the Safe Zone, Astrid's eyes darted through the leather-clad crowd, searching desperately for one familiar face once more. But he was still nowhere to be seen.

Where was he?

Frustration dared to rise, a curse building in her throat, but she forced it down, her jaw tightening. She could not lose focus now.

Soon, Astrid's wary stare found Daryl, who was standing just a few feet away. She could not help but instinctively inch toward him.  His hand was so close, and she wished to reach out, to feel the roughness of his palm in hers, to remind him—and herself—that they were still together, still fighting.

Negan's voice shattered the fragile moment as he side-stepped into her line of sight. "Where the fuck's your bag?" he asked her. "It's time to go."

Astrid's eyes narrowed. "I didn't pack a bag because I'm not going with you."

Negan's smirk widened, his head tilting as he regarded her. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Is that right?"

"It is," Astrid affirmed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She could feel the eyes of everyone around them, the weight of their terror, but she refused to back down.

Negan chuckled lowly. "Aren't you a fucking force to be reckoned with," he murmured, his eyes gleaming, assessing with twisted admiration. "I like a strong woman, really I do. But I've got to respect them. If you think you're better off here, who am I to fucking argue?" He paused, pursing his lips. "But . . . we have a doctor.  And I've got your husband."

Astrid's heart clenched at the mention of Daryl, but she kept her expression cold. She knew better than to trust anything Negan said. "If I go with you, I'm yours," she returned. "And I won't be his. I refuse to belong to anyone but him." She nodded toward her hunter, her gaze ferocious and unyielding protective. "He's my husband. You'll never be that—you never could be."

Negan's expression darkened, the smirk slipping from his face as he stepped closer, invading her personal space. She could smell the faint, acrid scent of sweat and leather. "You sure about that?" he taunted. His black, beady eyes bore into hers, searching for any sign of weakness, but she refused to flinch, meeting his gaze head-on.

When she did not respond, did not give him the satisfaction of a reaction, Negan sighed in irritation, his face twisting into a sneer as he turned away from her. His attention shifted to Rick, who stood nearby, his face a mask of barely restrained fury.  But no longer was it solely towards Negan.  It was towards her.

Let Rick Grimes be mad.  Let him be furious at Astrid for doing what he could not be brave enough to face.

"Fuck.  Fine, keep her. I'll keep him," Negan said, his tone mocking, as if he were discussing nothing more serious than a casual trade.  "We'll see how long they last without each other." His cruel grin returned.  "Might just be heading toward our own tragic Romeo and Juliet." He laughed loudly at his own joke, his eyes flicking mischievously back to Astrid. "I fucking tried." He shrugged. "But don't come knocking when you need help with that bun in the oven."

He turned to Rick, his demeanor shifting again to that of the cold, calculating leader. "Now, as for you, what you've got to do is get over that tall fucking wall of yours and try harder out there. Earn for me, because we're coming back soon, and when we do, you better have something interesting for us. Or else Lucille is going to have her fucking way. I want you to hear that again. If you don't have something interesting for us, somebody is going to fucking die."

Negan paused, letting the threat sink in. "But nobody died today," he eventually continued.  "And you know what I fucking think? I think that you and I . . . we've fucking refined our understanding. So, let me ask you something, Rick. Do you want me to go?"

Rick stepped out of Negan's shadow and into Astrid's. 

"I think that'd be good," He answered shortly.

"Then just say those two motherfucking magical words," Negan pressed.

Rick stood frozen for a moment, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white. The tension in the air was suffocating, every eye on him, waiting. Finally, he forced himself to take a small step forward, meeting Negan's coy stare.  He took a deep breath, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. "Thank you."

Negan laughed loudly.  "Don't be fucking ridiculous. Thank you," he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Meanwhile, a guttural growl pierced the silence, the unmistakable sound of a walker from beyond the gates. Negan's jaw dipped in exaggerated surprise. "Holy, fuck!  Another one," he exclaimed, his tone almost playful as he turned to face the gates. "You need our help." His eyes scanned the area, landing on a heavy object lying on a nearby newly collected table. His grin widened as he pointed at it. "Hey, hand me that candlestick over there," he ordered.

One of the Saviors hurriedly passed the heavy candlestick to Negan, who twirled it in his hand before decapitating the walker with ease. After, Negan turned smugly back to Rick. "You know what I think, Rick? I think we're both going to come out of this as fucking winners," he said, starting to walk away. But then he paused, his eyes lighting up with a sudden, mocking realization. "Oh, wait! You didn't think I was going to leave Lucille behind, did you?  I mean, after what she did, why the fuck would you want her? Thanks for being so accommodating, friend."

Negan reached out and yanked Lucille from Rick's trembling hands. Then, the leader of the Saviors leaned in close, so close that his mouth was nearly pressed to Rick's ear. He spoke just loud enough for Astrid to hear. "And in case you haven't caught on," he drawled, "I just slid my fucking dick down your throat, and you thanked me for it."

Rick's face twisted in humiliation, but before he could react, Negan spun on his heel and grabbed Daryl harshly by the back of his filthy, torn sweatshirt, practically yanking him off his feet. "Let's go, Romeo!" he beckoned.  Astrid tensed as he waved Lucille at her next. "Ta-fucking-ta, Juliet!"

Astrid's stomach churned with disgust as she watched them load her husband into one of the trucks like he was a piece of livestock, not a man.  Negan hopped casually into the front seat, as if this were all just a game to him, and within seconds, the convoy of vehicles was rumbling to life. The engines roared, tires kicking up dust and debris as the Saviors sped off, leaving Astrid and the other Alexandrians to stare after them, helpless and seething.

Astrid's nails dug into her palms until they left crescent-shaped imprints. Her teeth ground together as she watched the trucks disappear around the corner, taking Daryl with them. The fury that had been simmering within her now threatened to explode, her entire body shaking with the force of it.

"I'm going to kill him," she growled.

Without waiting for a response from Rick—she knew he would not offer one anyway—Astrid turned on her heel and stalked away.

She could not bear to look at Rick, could not stand the sight of him drowning in his own cowardice. Every fiber of her being screamed in frustration. Hadn't her fists, her words, knocked any sense into him? They could not just lie down and let themselves be trampled. Negan was no different than the others they had faced—the Governor, Gareth, Dawn. He was just another monster in a long line of them, an obstacle they could, and would, overcome. They were not going to die because of this man. They would not let the Saviors win.

Instead of heading back to the house, Astrid made her way to the cemetery once more.  Now, her steps were purposeful, her mind refocused. She knelt down at the familiar grave, her wedded hand steady as she placed it on the makeshift tombstone. A small sigh escaped her lips.

"I'm back," she whispered. "Do you still have it?"

Astrid's scarred fingers moved through the soft dirt, brushing aside layers of earth until she found what she was looking for. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as the buried handgun came into view. She picked it up carefully, checking the clip and nodding in satisfaction when she saw it was still fully loaded. With a quick, practiced motion, she slid the gun into the waistband of her jeans and pulled her husband's flannelled shirt down to conceal it.

Astrid gently returned the dirt to its place, smoothing it over as if she were tucking the grave in for the night. She pressed her lips to her fingers and then touched them to the tombstone.  "I'm going to kill them, Bailey," she vowed.

"I promise."

~~~~~~~~~~

time for astrid to go rogue. love watching my girl come into her own leadership, even if it will absolutely only bring more pain and devastation. hope you all are enjoying the story, i'd love to hear your thoughts :')