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herebutnothere · 13 days

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When Rick returns to the CRM and receives the Echelon Briefing, he’s presented with a fork in the road that has two clear options:

Path A: Save the people he loves by going along with mass murder.

Path B: Save the people he loves by going home.

We all know how that ends (with a table slide 🥵), but as I was (re)watching, I couldn’t help but wonder—What would have happened if Michonne hadn't found him? What would have happened if Commando Rick was the one hearing the briefing? What would have happened if the E1 version of Rick had to choose?

On its face, what General Beale offers is the solution to Rick’s biggest problems and the salve to his deepest wounds. When Beale callously, manipulatively, rudely says that even Rick’s best efforts (chomp, chomp) weren’t enough to save Carl in the end, he offers the secret army within the CRM as a way to do what Rick couldn’t and can’t—keep people safe.

But…

But.

“The Ones Who Live” is an epic love story. In virtually every single interview they’ve done leading up to the show and every single interview they’ve done since it aired, Danai, Andrew, and Scott have been very clear about the story they wanted to tell. This quote from Danai stands out to me in particular:

“When love is the driving force, when it is the propelling thing, when it is making the plot move, what does that look like?”

In other words, what does it look like when love is both the reason for and the result of our actions and decisions?

Throughout TOWL, we get to explore all types of love: romantic (e.g., Rick and Michonne), platonic (e.g., Michonne and Nat), familial (e.g., the Grimes), community (e.g., the caravan), self-love (e.g., Michonne’s articulation of how she views herself for leaving her Shoto and Little Brave Man to find Rick), as well as all the types of love that Ancient Greek philosophers talked about.

We also get to explore the bastardization of love. We get to see its abuse, its disregard, its minimization, and the consequences therein—

When Beale rejected love, he sacrificed his community.

When Thorne lost faith in love, she devoted herself to Beale’s fascist mission.

When Okafor abandoned love, he killed his wife.

Even when Beale is showing Rick a version of paradise where the people he cares about are safe, he starts to say “a lov-” and cuts himself off with “I don’t give a damn.” For him, a love or lover is inconsequential. This thing that ties us together, that makes us us is something trivial that can be cast aside for the bigger picture…

And while we don’t see the other briefings, we do know that Beale’s done 2,533 of them, so—assuming they all accepted—that means there are 2,531 other people besides Okafor and Thorne who have rejected, minimized, destroyed, forgotten, been hurt by, fear, lost, and/or given up on love, too.

So back to Rick, the fork in the road, and my hypothetical question:

I think that, if Michonne hadn’t had found Rick, if he was still deep in the trenches of the CRM and Okafor’s mission, if he was still walking around dead inside, I think he would have rejected Beale’s offer. Not because he didn’t want to be reunited with his family, but because he wouldn’t have wanted to be reunited with his family like that.

He wouldn’t have wanted to be with Michonne with his disregard for humanity standing between them.

He wouldn’t have wanted to hold Judith—that sweet precious baby he left behind—and taint her innocence with his sins.

Because as Michonne told him, “That’s not how you love.”

(And, needless to say, in this hypothetical scenario of Michonne not finding Rick pre-briefing, he wouldn’t know about RJ so he wouldn’t have been accounted for in this decision-making process.)

If there was no reunion and Rick was left to make this decision without the buoyancy of Michonne and all that she reminded him of, if all he had was the memory of the love and life he left behind, the paths in front of Commando Rick would be bleak af:

Path A1: Go along with the mission to murder millions and be reunited with his family. (Essentially becoming everything he stood against pre-ZA and pre-CRM and never truly being with them again.)

Path A2: Pretend to go along with the mission, but actually try to sabotage it. (Although he might feel trapped because the briefing was the same day as or just before the Portland attack and he might not be able to undo it all on his own in time.)

Path B: Try to escape. Again. (But likely not succeed.)

Path C: End his life. (And at least die knowing that Michonne and Judith might be able to get away and continue living.)

Which path do you think he would take? 😔

This is why I internally chuckle and roll my eyes at the critiques that TOWL focused too much on love. The way the finale—and the show as a whole—unfolded was the only option. Everything about Rick and Michonne and who they are in this particular world led to this moment. Everything they'd been through for nearly a decade (nearly eight of which he was held captive) came together.

An epic love story indeed.

The failure to see that and the desire to disregard the power of love—the power of Richonne’s love—simply means you weren’t having the experience you claim you want to have. Go back and watch from the beginning, babe. Pull up E1 and hit “play.” I promise you’ll like it so much better when you allow yourself to believe.

#twd: the ones who live #richonne #they said it was a love story and love stories (typically) require a HEA so what did you really think would happen #rick grimes towl #rick grimes #michone grimes #michonne x rick #twd towl #the ones who live #twd the ones who live #i know i just got here but it's in the text!!!

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 1 year

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Not One of Us | Daryl Dixon x Zombie!M!Reader | Imagine #2

Note: Another one of my random brain blurbs that came to me at midnight and that might turn into a series one day. This is another 2nd POV because I'm trying to get more comfortable with it but it's honestly still unfamiliar for me and I might not ever get used to it... Also, the whole zombie thing doesn’t really make sense with the canon of TWD but I honestly don’t give a shit :3 Additionally, this is set at the end of the Prison timeline and the reader has blue eyes to signify his “zombie-ness”.

This piece isn’t proofread sorry.

Fandom: The Walking Dead

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Warnings: Gore, Angst, Death, Violence

Summary: Y/N is ambushed alongside Hershel and Michonne and taken hostage. This leads to the sudden reveal of the secret he has kept hidden for so long.

Word count: 4,117

Masterlist

It happened unexpectedly.

To tell the truth, you weren’t as vigilant as usual, most likely due to Michonne’s presence.

The woman was like an anchor, not just for Rick and Carl but for you as well. So you let your guard down and you didn’t take your Kevlar with you to protect your head from any unwanted contact.

You ended up regretting it. Deeply.

Although you heard something snap behind you, you weren’t fast enough to turn and one hit to the back of your head and you crumbled like a puppet. And due to your nature, you stayed unconscious for quite a while...

"...take the fucker's mask off."

You blinked slowly, your eyes had yet to regain focus. You were laying on your side, your hands tied behind your back, facing the wall of what seemed to be an RV or something.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. His whole face is badly scarred from an accidental fire. It's unsightly."

You didn’t recognize the first voice, but the second one belonged to Hershel and it didn't take you long to figure out what the two men were talking about.

Hershel's words echoed the ones you had told your friends months ago when you had tried to tell them a plausible reason to why you would never take off your black balaclava in their presence.

The fact that the old man was trying to protect your privacy warmed your heart. But it was not enough to make your anxiety disappear.

"Really? How bad can it be?"

You heard someone shuffle closer and your back tensed. You didn't know if you could stop the stranger if he wanted to unmask you.

Your limbs still felt weak and your arms were restricted so the worst case scenario would be that the secret you had hidden for so long would be exposed. What would come after that... You had thought about it enough to know that it was probably a bullet in your forehead.

"It's really horrible, we saw it once and three of us threw up."

"You really don't want to see that" another familiar voice added.

Relief washed over you in waves. Not only because the stranger seemed to be deterred by Hershel’s words but also because Michonne was here with you. They didn't seem hurt based on Michonne's calm tone.

This fact gave you the opportunity to think about what to do next.

Listening closely to any movement, you contemplated about what happened.

If your brain didn’t deceive you, you were ambushed by the Governor.

The hit to your head knocked you out cold but you didn’t know for how long. The fact that you could’ve died if the hit was just a bit harder wasn’t something you could easily forget.

It just reminded you that you should never again walk around without your helmet no matter how ridiculous it looked according to the others.

Good thing you didn’t have to worry about the heat or cold anymore.

Someone opened the door to the RV and you tried to relax to make it appear as if you were still unconscious.

“What are you doing in here?”, asked the newly arrived man and you bared your teeth.

It was indeed the Governor.

“I-I was just checking on the prisoners”, answered the other man and based on his nervous voice you guessed that he had to be pretty young.

“Go wait outside.”

You heard shuffling and the click of the RV door told you that you three were now alone with that bastard of a man. Your shouldres tensed again. If he hurt your family...

Michonne was thinking the same thing but she restrained herself from lunging at the man before her. Her hands were tied and she didn’t have any weapon. Her anger was currently unhelpful, so she tried her best to ground herself.

She watched the man with the eye patch before her closely as he tilted his body to check you out.

When your capturers pushed you into the AV, she had to watch how they roughly dumped your body on the bed.

The fact that they had to carry your limp body throughout their treck towards the RV and how they manhandled you like a dead person scared her.

It didn’t seem normal that you were unconscious for that long. This combined with your insistence of wearing that military helmet all day long made her question if you had known that this could happen if you were hit on the head.

Her thoughts turned even more anxious but she ignored it. There was nothing that she could do in her current state.

“I see he’s still out cold.”

Hershel visibly frowned and she clenched her hands into fists.

“You hit him quite hard.”

The tone of the old man next to her was neutral but his eyes showed disapproval and she knew that the doctor of their community was worried about your state as well. If he could he would be by your side right now, checking for any damage at the back of your head.

Philip Blake barely acknowledged his words. Instead he grabbed something in his pocket and presented it to them.

“You should eat. It’s gonna be a long day”

She took the food ration without thanking him and he turned away and continued to talk:

“Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

Michonne almost snorted but she held herself back, now was not the time to be antagonistic towards the man who captured them. Hershel would do the talking and hopefully they would come to an agreement.

“I’m sorry but I can’t believe that. What you did with Y/N... You already hurt him.”

The Governor sat on the couch and rifled through the first aid-kit there.

“That was a necessary act. He’s too skilled. We didn’t want him to start a fight.”

Michonne knew he was right. You would’ve found an opportunity to attack during the treck to the RV and it probably wouldn’t have ended well.

In the back of the van, you were burning with anger.

When I get out of these cuffs...

But the opportunity didn’t come.

They took Michonne, Hershel and you to the prison. Not together however, they knew it was safer to keep you separated. They dragged you out of the RV first and you couldn’t speak to your friends.

Just a quick “You okay?” from Michonne when she saw that you were awake when they dragged you away and you responded with a nod, that was all that you could exchange before you got shoved out of the RV.

They led you to a blue truck and forced you into the backseat. Your hands were still tied behind your back so you leaned forward as if you were in pain.

“Are we going to the prison?” you asked the driver though you knew the answer already.

“Don’t fucking talk to me!” was his response and the man tapped his pistol on the steering wheel. He seemed nervous. Like you.

You knew what the Governor’s goal was. And you had the bad feeling that not all of you would make it out alive.

With growing anxiety you watched how Michonne and Hershel were led out of the RV and to the back of a red car.

You didn’t know if you would survive until the next day but one thing was for sure, you would protect your family.

And hey, you already died once, right? How bad could the second turn be?

When you arrived at the prison, the cars lined up next to the tank and you had to watch helplessly how they shot a round at the building from the M60 Patton.

The fact that these bastards were using military property against your friends and your base made you grind your teeth in anger.

The explosion of the tank’s main gun’s cartridge interrupted Daryl’s and Rick’s talk with Tyreese inside of the prison and the three of them hurried outside to see what the hell was going on.

They met the others whose eyes were already fixed on the six cars that flanked the tank, on which Philip Blake, the Governor was standing.

Daryl registered in the back of his head that neither you nor Michonne were present. But his focus snapped back to man with the eyepatch who was calling for Rick.

He glanced at his friend at whom he had been angry just a few hours before, but now he trusted him to solve this. The man always knew how to fix things. And if he didn’t, Daryl was there to help him to clean up the aftermath.

He shielded his eyes against the sun to check out the men and women who stood opposite of their prison fence.

All of them held weapons in their hands and he wasn’t the only one who knew that luck wasn’t particularly on their side.

“It’s not up to me!”, Rick shouted, “there’s a council now! They run this place!”

The Governor’s response made Daryl’s stomach drop. And the sharp inhale of the Greene sisters signalled him that they were definitely at a disadvantage now.

One of the Governor’s followers, a woman stepped towards a red car and lead the doctor of their community towards the front of the tank where she made the old man kneel.

“What about Michonne?” the Governor taunted and Daryl could feel the anger pulsating from Rick beside him when the woman who had become like a mother to Carl was led out of the car, her hands tied behind her back.

She got shoved to the ground next to Hershel.

Rick opened his mouth and almost at the same time as the Governor he spoke:

“I don’t make decisions anymore!”

“And what about fucking Y/N L/N?”

Daryl’s breath stopped for a second when he saw how a man forced you out of a blue truck and dragged you next to Hershel.

You still wore your dark green cargo pants combined with the black combat shirt that you wore a few days ago and your face was still hidden by the black balaclava. You didn't seem to have any visible injuries but that didn't stop Daryl's chest from constricting.

You got shoved to the ground, Hershel knelt next to you and he appeared to ask you something.

Of course, they were too far away to hear anything but the man behind you kicked you and you toppled over. Michonne leaned towards you but the woman behind her grabbed her to stop her from moving and you ended up getting dragged into an upright position again by the fucker who hurt you just seconds before.

Daryl stepped up to the fence but Rick held up his hand. Their eyes met and the other nodded slowly.

The archer breathed in deeply. There was nothing he could do right now, he had to leave it to Rick. He mimicked the gesture and his eyes didn’t leave your form while Rick turned towards his son and mumured a few words.

Then he walked towards the fence and Daryl helped him open the gate that separated the court from the field with the outer fence.

All eyes were on Rick as he slowly made his way down to the fence line.

You watched him as well with clenched fists. But your eyes wandered behind him and you found Daryl’s form immediately. He seemed to watch you too but he was too far away to actually tell though.

The archer had turned into your closest friend in the last few months and although you two got off on the wrong foot at first, your relationship was now different. It had turned into something dangerous even and in the last few days you had avoided him.

The growing tension between you had led to more body contact and you were scared that he would find out how cold your body was even through the many layers of clothing that you wore, what that meant.

You liked him, yes.

Fuck, you liked him more than you should and the fact that you couldn’t be together was hurting you more than you thought it would.

But the insurmountable fact was that you were dead and he was alive.

Your body was slowly rotting away while his would remain.

You knew that there was so much more that separated you, that made it impossible for you to tell him about your feelings, but on the other hand you felt awful that you couldn’t tell him.

Somehow you knew that today would change things forever and you regretted all of your actions.

If only...

Rick stopped in front of the inner fence, the former police officer's eyes glued on Michonne and Hershel.

They exchanged a look and you smiled weakly when his eyes met yours, not that it could be seen through the cloth that shielded your face from curious looks.

Don't worry about me you tried to tell the older man with your eyes.

It didn’t look like he deciphered the meaning though.

The position of kneeling with a guard behind your back gave you a sense of déjà vu.

Only that a few years ago, you had been the one who shoved people down on their knees during negotiations. Back then, you thought what you were doing was the right thing.

The Governor was probably thinking that too right now.

But he was wrong. And you would make sure that he knew that.

The negotations began and Daryl was pacing at the gate, watching Rick and you.

The man who had ignited something in him in the last few weeks was kneeling with a straight back, his head facing straight ahead.

He could almost see your defiant eyes and he smiled grimly before turning towards Sasha and Tyreese, trying to plan a way out of this situation.

He distributed the guns to Bob, Maggie and the others, all while trying to calm the storm of thoughts in his mind.

Rick was in danger. Hershel, Michonne, you were in direct line of fire. The Governor was a crazy son of a bitch and who knew what he would do if negotiations failed.

Suddenly shots were fired and he and Carl raised their weapons immediately, watching how the Governor killed some appearing walkers.

Rick witnessed how Hershel jumped in surprise and fear settled in his stomach.

What was he doing here? Could he really talk this maniac out of shooting them down like pigs?

His eyes found yours and once again he was surprised how calm you looked behind the black makeup that covered the only skin that wasn’t hidden behind any kind of clothing.

But now that he stood closer to you, he realised that there wasn’t exactly calmness in your eyes, there was certainty. But he didn’t know what kind. That you would die? That you would protect your friends?

Your eyes found his and you blinked slowly and he knew.

Gulping he turned to the governor.

“We can all live together”, he began and he wasn’t exactly pleading but it sure felt like it.

That certainty in your eyes haunted him. He didn’t want it to happen. He couldn’t let it happen. Not when his son and daughter were living in the building behind him.

The Governor shut him down almost immediately.

No, no, no... echoed in his mind as he continued to talk. No, no, no!! when his talk of peace turned into threats. They wouldn’t leave. Either they live together or die. No, fuck, please!

The frown on the Governor’s face deepened and Rick watched with growing dread how the man grabbed Michonne’s katana and held it against Hershel’s throat.

The shift in the atmosphere was almost tangible and the stares of the people behind him burned into his back. His shoulders sagged, the expectation of saving lives weighed heavily on him but he couldn’t crumble now.

His mouth tripped over his own thoughts but he formulated them into sentences and tried to plead with the other men and women who Philip had brought here.

Not all of them looked like they followed him with 100% faith. If only he could persuade some of them... If only he could persuade the Governor...

“I know we all can change.”

Hershel smiled at him and in that moment a thought bloomed in Rick’s head.

“Liar.”

It was as if time was suspended for a moment when the Governor’s face distorted and he took a swing, only for you to lunge at him.

Rick, Michonne, Carl, Daryl, Maggie, Beth, Bob, Sasha, Tyreese and the people who Philip brought with himself bore witness how the katana slashed across your chest and then sunk into Hershel’s neck only to get stuck because of the missing force behind the swing.

For a milisecond everyone was frozen but then screams erupted, Maggie's pained wails drowned out her sister's and Carl began shooting, hitting the Governor in the arm, forcing him to let go of the blade that was still stuck in Hershel’s neck.

His father screamed furiously and began to shoot as well while retreating behind the fallen bus.

Daryl blinked and watched in horror how you slumped over, your body crumpled like a puppet and you fell over almost in sync with Hershel.

Pain erupted in Daryl’s chest, combined with the clawing fury in his throat, and he grunted and let himself get taken over by the pain of losing you.

The moment the Governor left his position on the tank you knew your group was doomed.

Had it been any other guy beside the Governor, Rick’s words might have reached them but that bastard was already too far gone.

Throughout the talk you had nestled around with the sole of your combat boots. It was hard to find the small slit you had created in the rubber months prior, but your fingers soon found the tip of the razor blade you hid in there.

The guy behind you was listening closely to Rick’s words so you had the chance to start working on cutting your restraints.

But it took too long.

The moment you saw the Governor move his hand, you moved subconsciously.

Your hands were still tied, so the best you could do is try to headbutt him before he could end his swing but although you used your body as a weapon, it still wasn’t enough to weaken his swing and the katana sunk into Hershel’s throat.

Blood spurt from the wound onto your face and you fell over. Blinking, you tried to get rid of the liquid in your eyes.

You didn’t feel any pain but you had lost your balance and now laid face down in the dirt.

Gunfire erupted over you and you heard screams and cries of pain.

You were numb.

Lifting your head you saw Hershel just a few feet away from you and you pushed your body towards him. Michonne’s katana was gone, you didn’t give a shit though.

Crawling over the grass you reached him and with a bit of an effort you forced your hands apart, tearing through the nylon of your restraints.

“Hershel-”, you breathed, forcing yourself into a kneeling position to lean over the man who was drowning in his own blood. He gargled and sputtered and you knew it was only a matter of seconds until he was dead.

A howl gathered at the back of your throat.

“I-”

Before you could say anything a familiar blade pierced your chest from behind.

“You bastard-”

You blinked and rose to your feet. The man behind you tore the katana out of your body with a squelsh and you turned to face him. The Governor looked at you, then the lack of blood on the blade.

“You- what are-”

Before he could continue, your hands found his throat and you flung his body against the side of the tank like he wasn’t a grown man but a mere puppet.

His head collided with the tank with a loud thud and he wheezed in pain. Your fingers digged into his skin and he couldn’t breathe. With a howl you knocked his head against the tank again and again and a bloody smear began to form on the metal.

He clawed at your hands but you held onto him with a vice-like grip and he ended up grabbing your head.

In your anger you ignored how he pulled on your balaclava and ended up tearing it off your head.

His pained expression changed into one of shock but before he could say anything you heard a shout from behind you over the continuing gunfire and you lost your balance for a second.

You turned around and came face to face with the guy who sat next to you in the truck. The one who asked about your non-existent face scars from a fire. He held a smoking assault rifle in his hands. You turned your head back to the governor. His body was limp in your hands and his dark blue shirt was dyed black with blood.

“What the fuck-”, began the other guy but you interrupted him by hurling the governor’s dead body at him and then charging at him in anger.

The man toppled over, the dead body to heavy for him to carry and within a second you were on him and grabbing a fistful of his hair you bashed his hand repeatedly onto the ground.

Since you were essentially standing on grass it ended up taking a while to kill him but you didn’t care. You grabbed his assault rifle and put a bullet through his head when his body started to move again and then you sent another spray of bullets into the tank who had begun to move towards the fence.

Some guys stood behind the tank and they spotted you.

“Look out!”

“Fuck, what-?!”

You mowed them down without hesitation, in your ears only a low humming sound.

You don’t hurt my family. You don’t hurt what’s mine.

On the other side of the battlefield stood a certain archer frozen.

Daryl gave Rick fire cover as soon as the man was behind the fallen bus. He concentrated his fire on the shooters who stood on the cars and witnessed how Michonne moved herself out of the line of fire.

He was glad she was safe, but that feeling was only a twinge in his side, overshadowed by the loss he felt when he saw you fall to the ground, certain that you had died.

There hadn’t been a lot of blood but he couldn’t really judge that from the distance and your body had remained motionless on the ground.

He couldn’t look at you.

So he didn’t. He fired at the cars at the left side of the tank and exhaled shakily, Maggie’s bellow of sadness in his ears.

He bit his lip so hard it started to bleed and the metallic smell forced bile up his throat.

Carl next to him paused shooting and his quiet “Huh?” stopped Daryl in his tracks. He followed the boy’s line of sight and watched silently how a figure he knew all too well knelt over the dead body of Hershel, only to be impaled by Michonne’s katana.

Daryl’s brain couldn’t process that you weren’t dead after all, because now you certainly were. The blade pierced your upper torso but you rose to your feet like nothing happened. Even when the Governor tore out the katana, you didn’t falter.

A moment passed between you and the other and in the next, you flung the man around with an inhumane force.

Daryl lowered his rifle, even though at the back of his head, he knew that right now certainly wasn’t the moment to do so but his eyes were fixed on you.

You didn’t seem like a person he knew.

At first he thought you had turned into a walker, the way you lunged once more at the governor, your hands outstretched as if you were ready to take a bite out of him. But instead your hands began to choke the man.

Daryl knew that anger could give someone enough adrenaline to perform seemingly impossible tasks but the way you manhandled the Governor, a guy who possibly weighed around 165 lbs, it didn’t seem human at all.

And he was right.

When walkers began to flood through the fences that were taken down by the tank and Daryl had a moment to turn back, he saw you.

You, standing amongst the advancing masses of walkers. He knew it was you because you looked straight at him and the black smear of makeup around your eyes gave you away.

Beth grabbed his arm.

“We have to go!”

You lifted two fingers and performed a little salute. Walkers passed you to continue the onslaught on the prison.

And in that moment he realized that you were different.

You’re not one of us.

He lifted his crossbow.

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