[ lxv. i don't need a gun ]

october 16th, 2012

➸➸➸

"SCOUT CREW IS INCOMING. They're thirty minutes out, maybe less."

Paula's sure-set words buzzed through Astrid's mind like a warning bell tolling the approach of disaster, while she watched as the fiery-haired woman once again attended to the wounded Donnie. His condition had deteriorated rapidly. Despite the makeshift tourniquet, blood still gushed from his mangled limb, and his complexion had turned a shade of deathly pale. His time was slipping away, each second pushing him closer to certain death.

Astrid stayed motionless, however, and did not say this aloud. Allowing Donnie to succumb would level the slaughterhouse's playing field. Three against three. Astrid, Maggie, and Carol against Paula, Michelle, and Molly. They could take them.

"He doesn't have thirty minutes," Maggie insisted sharply. Of the three captive women, she had been the most vocal. Astrid was still silent. "His nerves are dying," Maggie continued. "His nerves are dying. If he doesn't get medical help, he's going to lose his arm. Maybe his life. I'm not a doctor, but my dad lost his leg, and I know that much."

Astrid's thoughts briefly drifted back to the prison, to the cramped cell where she, Carol, and Lori had fought desperately to save Hershel's life. Astrid had never once given up, had defied all odds to ensure the veterinarian pulled through, and he had. But only—only—because of what Hershel himself had taught her while on the road. His teachings had helped Astrid to save his life. And then, it had helped her to save others, like Carl, too.

Maggie's voice rose in challenge to Paula's indifference to her commentary. "Your man, Primo, do you think he can help you?" She gibed. "It's time to end this. Let us go and get him back. Talk to Rick."

Paula's response was more silence, her attention drawn to a small window tucked high on the far chamber wall. Was she scanning the scenery for her people? How many more might be coming in this scout crew? Astrid did not want to consider it and instead flexed her fingers once more against the bonds that held her. Her clammy hands were slowly loosening the grip of the duct tape cuffs.

Thirty minutes. That was their countdown to free themselves before it was too late.

Three precious ones passed, before Donnie abruptly stirred from his prone position, and wrenched Astrid from her thoughts. With trembling limbs and only one functional arm, he staggered upright, his pallor drained further by the blood loss. A tremor of weakness betrayed him as he struggled to maintain his balance.

"You know my problem?" The dying man spoke, though he had not been prompted. He limped forward until he had positioned himself squarely in front of Carol, his back turned to Astrid. Peering around his looming form, she caught the searing intensity of his glare fixed upon Carol. "She did this to me," Donnie spat the words with venom. "She did it, and she's just sitting there, right as rain, fully intact." He redirected his irritation towards Paula and jabbed a bloody finger in her direction. "You're not going to make the trade. We're just going to kill all three of them—right now."

Donnie turned abruptly to face Astrid and delivered a mocking kick to her boot with his own.

"How does that sound, huh?" He taunted her, his bloodshot eyes ablaze with madness.

Astrid clamped her lips into a tight line. She would not speak to him. Now, she cursed herself for her hesitation in the prior night, for the missed opportunity to rid the world of his menace when she had the chance.

"We're waiting for backup." Paula's reminder sliced through the chamber. "We have to be smart. We need insurance."

Donnie pivoted once more to Carol. "Then shoot her in the arm, too!" He cried.

Paula's refusal was swift, unshaken in the face of mounting hysteria. "No."

"You're really going to stick up for some gutless bitch over me?" Donnie demanded loudly. But his tirade was short-lived as a sudden spasm wracked his body, his newfound cries of pain piercing. Paula immediately attempted to silence him, but Donnie jerked away. "Get away from me, Paula!"

The female Savior ignored his screams and lunged towards Donnie once more, but before she could fully make contact, Donnie's arm shot up, and the sickening sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the room as his hand collided with Paula's face. The redhead staggered back, a cry of pain tearing from her lips as she recoiled from the unexpected blow.

Astrid's eyes widened at the violence. However, it did not stop there. With Donnie poised for another attack, Astrid's mind raced, and her instincts kicked into overdrive, to turn this chaos to her own advantage.

In a split-second decision, as Donnie started after Paula again, Astrid unleashed her bound legs in a sweeping arc. The tips of her boots caught the back of Donnie's knees, throwing him off balance, and he crashed to the hard ground with a resounding thud.

The motion sent Astrid tumbling sideways, her seated body twisting and contorting as she fought to protect herself from further harm. But before she could regain her bearings, Donnie was suddenly upon her.

The man's bloody grip was surprisingly strong as he hauled Astrid roughly to her feet. She staggered, unsteady on her duct-taped feet, his fingers digging painfully into her scalp as he ripped her head upwards.

Astrid forced a hissing breath through her teeth to prevent herself from crying out, but she could do nothing for the tears that stung her eyes as the agony radiated through her skull. Donnie's face loomed before her, his rancid breath hot against her skin.

"No!" Carol's horrified scream rattled Astrid's ears.

"Leave her alone!" Maggie joined in. "Let her go, you son of a bitch!"

But Donnie remained unmoved, his grip only tightening on Astrid's hair as he sneered down at her with undisguised malice. "No, I don't think I will."

Bracing herself for the inevitable, Astrid rose to meet it first. With a primal roar, she launched herself forward, her forehead connecting with Donnie's large nose with bone-shattering force. A crunch sounded between them as Donnie's hold faltered, his hand releasing her hair in a moment of stunned hurt.

Astrid hurriedly staggered back, creating distance, even as her head throbbed, and watched through blurred vision as Donnie stumbled blindly until he became tripped up by Carol's own set of legs. He easily recovered, though, and with a swift and merciless kick, Donnie sent Carol sprawling to the ground next. The elder woman cried out as her head smacked the pavement, and her eyes fell to a close.

Carol's unconsciousness did not stop Donnie from stomping down upon her body once more. In a desperate attempt to intervene, Astrid's body betrayed her. Her upper half moved with her momentum, but her bound lower half did not, and she plummeted to the floor. Astrid landed on her stomach with a bone-jarring thud, the impact searing through her front like wildfire.

Trapped and writhing, Astrid's world blurred all over again, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Through gritted teeth, she twisted onto her side, her muscles screaming in protest as she fought to make sense of the violence still unfolding above her.

What occurred next finished quickly. Paula advanced towards Donnie and delivered a heavy blow with the butt of her gun to the back of his head. The crack against his skull echoed through the chamber as Donnie instantly crumpled to the ground, unconscious and defeated.

Exhausted and wracked with pain, Astrid slumped against the frigid, dusty floor. The metallic taste of blood had filled her mouth again. She swallowed back the coppery bile, and as the jarring ache in her head intensified, Astrid closed her eyes. But her brief respite was riddled by a sudden weight falling across her torso. Opening her eyes, she found Maggie kneeling over her, shielding her body with her own.

"Are you all right?" She demanded. Her voice cracked. "Astrid?"

Astrid managed a weak nod, her throat raw as she expelled the next mouthful of blood that gathered behind her teeth. Summoning her dwindling strength, she forced herself into a sitting position, her glare meeting Paula's from over Maggie's shoulder.

"Damn," the redheaded Savior murmured. "You really are some kind of stupid."

Maggie bristled at the insult, and she leaped to Astrid's defense. "She was trying to help you!"

"I can take care of myself," Paula asserted. Her fingers absently traced the bruise blossoming on her jawline until, with a calculated glance, she directed her attention to Michelle. "Take that one into the other room," She ordered, motioning to Astrid. "See if she knows anything."

The Dixon woman's muscles instinctively tensed as Michelle closed in, her movements like a predator stalking its prey. But before she could make a move, Maggie sprang protectively in front of Astrid. "No. You're not taking her."

"Get out of my way, bitch." Michelle's lip curled into a snarl, her gun leveled menacingly at Maggie's chest. With a vicious shove, she knocked Maggie aside, her gaze never wavering as she turned her attention back to Astrid. She crouched down and cut away the duct tape that bound her legs.

The satisfaction of planting her muddy boot squarely in Michelle's troll-like face, of shattering the Savior's teeth flared through Astrid's mind. She started to twist away. Then, a gun pressed menacingly beneath her jaw, halting her actions, and she was hauled unceremoniously to her feet. The weight of Maggie's worry followed Astrid as she was forcibly guided out of the chamber, the steel door slamming shut behind her.

Led down a dark hallway, Astrid noted the echoing growls of walkers. She could not see them, but their snarls never grew louder, suggesting the dead were likely barred off in a specific part of the slaughterhouse. Astrid tucked this information away, and her heart beat steadily in her chest as she resolved to remain further vigilant, to record any other opportunity that presented itself for a later escape.

Abruptly, Astrid was yanked to a halt and shoved into a cramped workroom that branched off the main walkway. Astrid eyed Michelle warily as the woman went further into the shadowy space and propped two dented chairs upright, facing each other. "Try anything and I will kill you," Michelle threatened "I don't care what you have growing inside your stomach."

With a flick of her gun, Michelle motioned toward the chairs. Astrid lowered herself into one of the seats. As Michelle settled opposite her, the barrel of the gun shifted and trained on Astrid's abdomen. Astrid held Michelle's gaze without flinching, her green eyes burning with an intensity that matched the Savior's own unyielding glare.

Charged silence hung between them. Michelle was the first to breach it. "You can talk now."

Astrid's lips parted, her tongue darting out to wet them before she spoke. "I have nothing to say," She replied evenly.

The edge of Michelle's mouth curled. "So, she speaks," She quipped, her words dripping with cocksure confidence. "Do you want to hurt me right now, Astrid?"

Astrid met Michelle's challenge head-on. Her tone was devoid of hesitation or remorse as she responded, "I want to kill you."

Michelle chuckled dryly. "You're not going to kill me. I'm the one with the gun."

"I don't need a gun."

The smug smile upon Michelle's twisted lips vanished in an instant, and Astrid felt a rush of satisfaction as she sensed the power dynamic shifting in the room. She observed the subtle tensing of Michelle's frame, a silent acknowledgment of the threat Astrid posed. And though Michelle's grip tightened on her gun, Astrid noted that her finger remained conspicuously away from the trigger—a small detail, one that Astrid could use to her advantage.

Nevertheless, with a steadying breath, Michelle changed tack. "Well, I see you've got nice clothes. And time to make babies. You're holed up somewhere good. Tell me where."

Astrid did not immediately answer, but it was not from intimidation. She was focused on the newfound wave of nausea that had begun to roil in the pit of her empty stomach. An almost-burning sensation spread from the depths of her abdomen to her throat, and she clenched her jaw shut to stave off the tide. Whether it was the remnants of her pregnancy's morning sickness or the lingering effects of her scuffle with Donnie, where she had taken more than one hit to the head, she could not be certain.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to regain control, and when she opened them once more, Michelle's uncaring expression still bore down upon her. "Don't draw this out, bitch," She sternly said. "Just tell me where. Help yourself and the baby in your belly."

"Shut your mouth," Astrid snapped. "You don't get to talk about my baby."

"I'll talk about whatever I damn well please," Michelle shot back. "And if your baby's the topic, then your baby's the topic. Get the hell over it. You're only four months along, right? You know what that means? There's still a lot that could go wrong . . . There's still a lot that will go wrong if you don't start answering my questions." She cocked her head to the side, a new smirk playing on her lips. "The way you stay alive is you produce for us. So, let's get this straight: you're not the good guys. You should know that."

"There are no good guys," Astrid retorted icily. "You should know that."

Michelle's grin widened, but it faltered as a sharp intake of breath escaped her lips. She glanced down at her left hand, and Astrid followed, fixing on the sight of a missing pinkie finger. Only a stump remained, the knuckle barely visible.

"What happened there?" Astrid wondered, her curiosity tinged with suspicion.

This time, Michelle was the one to refuse an immediate answer. Instead, she reached into her back pocket and retrieved some gauze. She began to wrap it tightly around her injured finger. When she noticed Astrid's intense stare, she shot her a cold look. "I stole something," She finally answered. "Got caught."

"What did you steal?"

"Gas from this place."

"Why?"

"To get a new car. To look for my boyfriend's body."

Astrid hesitated. She wondered if the ensuing knowledge was worth her time. Could it provide leverage, or was it merely a distraction? Either way, she knew that allowing Michelle to dominate the conversation was not an option. "Did you find him?" She asked.

Michelle shook her head. "He was blown up," She replied with a casual shrug, as if discussing the weather. "There wasn't much to find."

Astrid felt a knot tighten in her stomach as the reality of Michelle's words sank in. She realized that she knew all too well what this woman was talking about. Daryl had been the one responsible for Michelle's boyfriend's demise. Two months ago, he had single-handedly taken out a group of Saviors threatening to kill him, Abraham, and Sasha, all with the single pull of an RPG's trigger.

Part of Astrid wanted to smirk at Michelle, to boast, "You can thank my husband for that." But she knew such words would only deepen the hatred between them, and she refused to risk her husband's safety for the sake of her pride. So, she chose restraint and suppressed the urge to fully assert her dominance.

She would continue to bide her time. To play the fool.

Still eyeing the marred digit, Astrid's wandering eyes drifted upward, until they fell upon a small tattoo adorning the woman's forearm. "Frankie," She read aloud, the lone name etched deeply into tanned skin. "Was that your boyfriend's name?"

Michelle rolled her eyes. "Hell, no," She scoffed. "I barely knew him. He was a dick."

Despite the harshness of Michelle's quick response, Astrid sensed the woman's underlying pain beneath. Such was their life. Every loss cut deep, regardless of the strings attached. The inevitability of goodbyes, with no guarantees of another hello.

"Frankie was my dad," Michelle continued, though she had not been prompted. "And that was what I was going to name the baby."

Despite herself, Astrid's heart clenched at the revelation. Empathy unwantedly seeped through the armor she had built. The thought of losing a partner was a grief she could overlook. But to lose a child? Such a loss was Astrid's deepest fear, one that always lurked in her mind, waiting to pounce. Imagining the pain of losing Bailey, Carl, or her unborn child often made her stomach churn. If only mere nightmares of such tragedy could already bring Astrid to her knees, she could not bear to contemplate the depths of agony and sorrow that would present themselves when genuine and unforgivable. When her child's death was unchangeable.

Astrid's jaw relaxed as she regarded Michelle with newfound understanding. Her gaze softened as it fell upon the woman's flat stomach—a reminder of a loss that could never be undone. "I'm sorry," She whispered, and she meant it.

"No," Michelle denied. Gone, was the Savior's brief vulnerability. Her dark eyes now blazed again with anger. "You're not." And so, the true chasm between the two women became clear to Astrid. What really separated them as killers. It was motherhood—and the transformative, lethal power it wielded over them both.

"And I'm not going to be sorry when you lose yours either."

➸➸➸

WHEN MICHELLE FINALLY DRAGGED Astrid back to the chamber, her breath caught in her throat at the sight before her. Sitting alone in one corner of the room, Maggie's face was streaked with tears. In the other, Carol still lay motionless on her side. Astrid's pulse quickened as she struggled to discern any signs of life from the woman. Was she breathing? Was she even alive?

Astrid's carefully watchful eyes darted next to Molly, who was hovering over the still-unconscious figure of Donnie. He, too, appeared almost dead. But then, excuding more than enough derangement and ferocity for the four of them combined, was Paula. Her hands rested on her narrow hips as she whipped around to face the newcomers.

"Did she talk?" She demanded of Michelle.

"What do you think?" The younger Savior scowled. "She was about as useful to us as she was in the trees."

Paula nearly snarled. Annoyed, she advanced towards Maggie, and seized the woman, hauling her upright. "Talk to her," She commanded, thrusting Maggie towards Michelle with a cruel disregard for her well-being. "She's the chattiest."

Michelle automatically relinquished her hold on Astrid, and before the latter could muster a word of protest, the former was gone, dragging Maggie along in her wake. Astrid's stare lingered on their retreating forms, a knot of dread tightening in her chest.

"Get on your knees," Paula ordered. A bead of sweat trickled down Astrid's temple as she was soon forced back to the ground, and her legs were rebounded with fresh layers of duct tape. After, her eyes darted to Carol's prone figure, and a small wave of relief washed over her at the faint rise and fall of her chest. But the sight of the bruise marring Carol's forehead ignited a fiercer, new anger within Astrid.

Turning towards Paula, her eyes narrowed. "What did you do to her?"

"Little Bird was a little nervous," The redhead snickered.

"I can see the marks," Astrid retorted, trembling. "You hit her."

"She wouldn't stop talking. I had to shut her up," Paula huffed. "She was giving me a headache. Just like you are right now. Don't push me to do the same to a pregnant lady."

Astrid ignored the threat. Her eyes flickered to the radio dangling from Paula's belt. "Just make the trade," She gritted. "Otherwise, you're digging your own grave."

From the other side of the chamber, Molly snorted derisively as she stepped away from Donnie and closed in on Astrid. "There's no room left in the grave because your people wiped out ours."

"We didn't want it to come to this. I didn't want it to come to this," Astrid insisted, looking carefully between the two female Saviors. "I tried to find another way, but my people wouldn't listen. I was trying to prevent more bloodshed. I—"

"Enough," Paula cut in. "Don't feed me your lies. I saw the look in your eyes when you almost pulled the trigger on Donnie last night. That's not the gaze of someone who's afraid to kill." Her lips tightened into a thin line. "You wanted this fight. Tell me why."

"Your people hardly left us any other choice when you ambushed mine on the road. They tried to take everything we had."

Molly's full and guarded expression shifted momentarily, a flicker of realization crossing her features. "Well, damn," She sighed. "So that's what happened to T's group . . . Those idiots—probably put on a big show."

Paula continued to watch Astrid closely, but the Dixon woman refused to be cowed into further submission. "Okay, fair play," The redhead relented at last. "You were just defending yourselves. But tell me this, your people killed them on the road, right? Blew them to pieces. So why keep going after that?"

"Because the job wasn't finished." A bitter taste filled Astrid's mouth as she uttered the name, "They said they were working for a Negan."

"And what do you think you know about Negan?"

"He's a killer. A bully who thinks he can get whatever he wants by instilling fear," Astrid snarled. "So, it was decided we had to stop him. Kill him before he found and killed us."

"Sweetie, sweetie," Molly chided, shaking her head. "We are all Negan."

Astrid's brow furrowed. "What the hell does that mean?"

But Paula offered no explanation. Instead, she turned her attention to Donnie, where a pool of crimson was spreading beneath him. Nearby, Carol's figure remained unmoving, and Astrid's heart sank lower. Elsewhere, Molly had now retrieved a new cigarette from her pocket. The mere sight of it caused Astrid's spine to stiffen.

"Don't," She said.

"Don't what?" Molly snapped at her.

"Don't smoke," Astrid returned, just as sharply. "Or go somewhere else if you have to. Please."

The heavy-set woman ignored her and took a defiant drag. The acrid smoke began to curl and twist through the small chamber, seeping into every crevice like fog. Astrid automatically held her breath and turned her head, but as she did so, her eyes caught upon a pair of booted feet and an attached shadow that hovered over her. Straining her neck back, she lifted her stare to meet Paula's.

"Please?" The Savior mocked. "I think that's the first time I've heard you beg. I like it."

"This isn't for me," Astrid growled. "You're not hurting me." With each breath of toxic smoke she took, she felt a pang of guilt twist in her chest. It was hurting him.

Paula's cold laughter rang through the chamber. Then, she pulled the cigarette from Molly's grasp and crouched before Astrid. Holding the smoldering stick inches from Astrid's face, Paula's grin twisted into a malevolent sneer. "Sucks, doesn't it?" She taunted. "When your child is in danger and there's nothing you can do."

Ashes rained down on Astrid's knees, the burning embers searing through the fabric of her jeans and scorching her skin. Unwanted tears began to well in her eyes, not for her own pain, but for the fragile life that pulsed within her. For her unborn child, innocent and defenseless, who was bearing the brunt of a torment meant solely for its mother.

"Just breathe it in," Paula tempted, her words a venomous whisper. "I'm sure your baby can handle it. And if not—"

Astrid did not wait for her to finish. She launched herself, leaning backward so that her feet swung upward and connected solidly with Paula's abdomen. The Savior gasped as she was sent sprawling backward, the cigarette slipping from her fingertips. As it hit the pavement, Astrid brought her boot back down to crush its remnants beneath her heel.

From the corner of Astrid's vision, Molly's eyes blazed with fury as she stared down at the crumbled cigarette. Her thick fists were clenched and trembling with restrained violence. She was likely fighting the urge to bash Astrid's face in with her own boots.

Meanwhile, Paula slowly regained her footing. She dusted herself off. "You really are quite the fighter," She drawled. "But why do you continue to do so when you know the outcome is inevitable? Why fight when you know you're going to lose?"

"It's not over until it's over," Astrid huffed.

"You don't honestly believe you'll make it out of here alive, do you?" Paula questioned. "Because if you do, well . . . you're in for a rude awakening. We're not taking the trade. We'll kill the three of you before we even consider risking our own lives."

"What about your friend? Primo?" Astrid pressed. "Are you truly willing to abandon him? You need him for Donnie, don't you?"

Paula dismissed Astrid's concerns with a wave of her hand. "Donnie is beyond saving," She said. "And as for Primo, he's more than capable of looking after himself."

Astrid's eyes narrowed, incredulous at Paula's audacity. "Then why are you still here?" She demanded, exasperated. "Why not end it now and be done with us?"

"We can't afford the risk of your people seeking revenge," She explained coldly. "Reinforcements are on their way, and once they arrive, your little group will be taken out. And when the dust settles, you'll be nothing but corpses."

Astrid could not disguise the tremble in her voice as her next question escaped. "You're willing to kill innocent babies?" She said. "Do you have any remorse at all left in you?"

Paula's admission sent a chill down Astrid's spine. "I don't," She confessed darkly. "Every night, I'm haunted by nightmares. But oddly enough, they're becoming my only sanctuary. In my dreams, at least, I know what to expect. Out here, every moment is unpredictable, every turn a new twist." Fiddling absentmindedly with the zipper of her jacket, Paula's eyes resettled on Astrid's. "I crave routine. You see, I used to be a secretary," She revealed, her voice tinged with bitterness. "What were you, Astrid?"

Astrid did not speak. She knew revealing her medical past, however brief it was, could be a fatal mistake, especially in the hands of someone as ruthless as Paula. But as her mind drifted to Donnie, to the wounds he deserved to bleed, she found a darkness that matched the female Savior's own.

Paula continued, tearing her bloodlust away. "I spent my days fetching coffee and stroking my boss's ego. Reading those meaningless inspirational emails, desperately seeking validation," She said. "There was this one email that circulated endlessly—of a young woman who was having a hard time and had told her mother that she wanted to give up. But the mother wouldn't let her. Instead, you know what she did? She boiled three pots of water, each with a different ingredient. A carrot, an egg, and some coffee beans. After they boiled awhile, the mother said to the daughter, 'Look, all three things went through the same boiling water. The carrot went in strong and came out soft. The egg was fragile and came out hard. But the coffee beans changed the water itself'.'"

"You're supposed to want to be like the coffee beans," Paula concluded. There was a flair of arrogance to her tone as she added, "But I don't see that in you, Astrid. What do you see yourself as?"

Astrid's patience snapped like a brittle twig. "They're fucking ingredients," She growled. "I won't be reduced to any of them."

Paula grinned maddeningly. "Denial," She coyly said, her voice dripping with derision. "You're simply afraid to confront the truth. Afraid of the darkness that lurks within you. Afraid of what you've become, and what you'll continue to be."

Astrid stiffened. Her mind, a battlefield of painful and unwanted memories, flashed back to the day spent at Hilltop. The image of holding a woman down with a knife to the throat seared into her consciousness like a white-hot brand. Had that only been two days ago? The Hilltop woman's desperate eyes, pleading for mercy, haunted her now, because Astrid knew that she had been prepared to end that life, to embrace the brutality that consumed her. Only her husband's intervention had spared her from descending further into that dangerous abyss.

But Daryl was not here now.

Killing doesn't get easier. Astrid recalled her own words, spoken to a dear friend. The memory of Andrea Harrison's final moments, her hand cold and lifeless in Astrid's, stabbed at her heart with a bitter ache. Oh, how she longed for Andrea to be beside her now. To have someone to talk her back now.

Because killing did not get easier. Astrid recognized that each death, each act of violence committed, added another layer to the towering edifice of guilt and regret she had constructed within herself. Just as Alexandria's watchtower had crumbled, leaving destruction in its wake, so too did Astrid waver under the weight of her own conscience.

Killing doesn't get easier, Astrid repeated inwardly to herself. She understood that now.

But she also knew that she could not shy away from the cruelty of this world, from the darkness that dwelled within her own heart. Towers would always crumble. Devastation would always be. There was no escaping the bloodshed, the bloodlust. No avoiding the inevitable reckoning that awaited. And Astrid was not afraid of it. Could not be afraid of it anymore.

"It's the things we love most that become our undoing," Paula echoed, shattering Astrid's contemplation like glass. "We're forced to sacrifice everything, even ourselves, for them." Silence hung heavy between the two deadly women. "I took lives for my children. One after another, until I lost count. That's when I stopped feeling remorse." Her gaze held, piercing and unrelenting. "How many lives have you taken, Astrid?"

"Enough."

"Give me a ballpark."

Astrid's skin crawled. "The number is irrelevant," She gritted. "As long as you're among them."

"You can't kill me," Paula stated.

"I didn't want to. Not at the start," Astrid snapped. "But now, I have no choice. Today, you will die, unless you cooperate. Reach for that radio, talk to Rick. Negotiate."

For a moment, the Savior did not move. She continued to stare into Astrid's expression, into the very marrow of her bones, it seemed. It was silent interrogation that likely sought to unravel the tangled web of truth and lies woven between them. Astrid decided she would let herself look no longer, and let her eyes fall to her duct-taped hands. The thought of what she might have done to Paula if only they were unbound.

Suddenly, Astrid scoffed to herself.

Two nights ago, she would have attempted to plead to Rick for their lives, for the lives of strangers. Because that was the new life she had wanted to create. The life that she believed was worth more than just survival, more than just choosing to kill someone on the spot. The better life that she wanted to build for her children. But now, that dream lay shattered at her feet.

She had been a fool to think this world could ever be one where self-preservation did not reign supreme.

Movement tore Astrid's attention once more as Paula rose from her crouch and slowly unclipped the radio from her belt. She lifted the device to her lips. "Hey, asshole," She spat into it. "Are you there?"

Astrid held her breath, awaiting a response, and breathed a sigh of relief when Rick Grimes's voice answered, "I'm here."

"We've considered your offer," Paula announced. "We're ready to make the trade."

"That's good," Rick approved.

"There's a large field with a sign that says, 'God is dead' about two miles down I-66," Paula relayed. "There's good visibility in all directions."

"We'll meet you there," the leader of Alexandria decided. "Ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes," The Savior affirmed.

The line went dead. Then, Paula returned the talkie to her belt. "See?" Astrid ventured. "That wasn't so difficult."

The redhead's lips pressed into a thin line. "No," She disagreed with a shake of her head. "No, that was too easy."

"Maybe they're just itching to get their people back," Molly suggested. She had moved back to the far end of the chamber to monitor Donnie.

"No," Paula denounced. "There was no static. There should have been static. They're close. Probably already here." Her frustration seeped through every syllable she spoke. "Damn it. We were careful, but there must have been tracks. We can't go through with this trade. They're going to kill us either way. They have the upper hand now. They know what they're doing."

"You can't back out now," Astrid warned. "They won't kill you. You have to trust me. Rick is a man of his word. He wouldn't jeopardize Maggie, Carol, or me with an ambush."

"Then he's just as stupid as you are," Paula snorted, before yanking the radio from her belt once more. She pressed one of its many buttons and called out, "What's your ETA?"

"A few minutes out," A new voice crackled through. "But the car is running on fumes."

"We have gas," Paula reassured. "We'll fill you up and then make our move. Radio in when you're back in the perimeter."

"Copy that." The static cut out.

Paula returned the radio to her belt and promptly replaced the device with her handgun. She turned to Molly. "We need to get ready," She insisted. "Pull Michelle out so she doesn't get stuck in a fight. We have to be ready to move at any second."

"What about the girls?" Molly questioned, glancing between Astrid and the still-unconscious Carol.

"Leave them for now," Paula responded as she crossed the chamber to the far exit. Her hand gripped the steel door's handle tightly as she swung it open, briefly revealing the hallway beyond. "If we leave, we travel light. And if the pricks are here, we pick them off at the door. Let's go."

Astrid remained seated, watching carefully as Paula and Molly slipped out of the room, leaving her in fresh silence. Her heart thrummed like a drum in her chest, each beat echoing the gravity of her new, impending situation. She needed to get out of here. Now.

Suddenly, Astrid's ears pricked up to a deep, rasping inhale from across the chamber. Her head snapped up, eyes widening in disbelief as she beheld Carol, quickly sitting upright against the damp concrete wall. What truly jolted her, though, was the sight of Carol's hands, no longer bound but adorned with tattered remnants of duct tape, clinging loosely to her wrists.

"Took them long enough," Carol grumbled as she began to work at the tape constricting her legs.

Astrid's gaze hardened, a storm brewing behind her narrowed green eyes. "You were awake this whole time?" She blurted.

"No," Carol confessed. "But I came to soon enough. You were a good distraction."

A dry chuckle escaped Astrid's blood-stained lips. "Glad I could help."

Carol continued to hurriedly cut away at her restraints. Astrid watched in awe as she realized the woman had secretly repurposed the rosary from earlier to sever her bonds. Where there was once a cross, there was now only a razor-sharp needle. A proud smirk danced across Astrid's lips. This was the Carol Peletier that the Dixon woman knew. The wolf in sheep's clothing.

In the next breath, Carol was by Astrid's side, swift and agile as ever. With practiced hands, she freed Astrid's wrists and ankles and then helped her to her feet. "Let's find Maggie and get the hell out of here," Carol said. Astrid's fervent nod mirrored her determination.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

~~~~~~~~~~

i love one woman and her name is astrid lancaster-dixon.

again, i hope you're all enjoy astrid's journey as much as i am.  i'd love to hear your thoughts on her!  she's my pride and joy, even with as much pain as i throw at her!