Let Us Now Mourn

Daryl was the one to notice something wrong before anyone else. There were two people that he was always very aware of; Jamie and Merle. And he couldn't find either of them right now. Realizing that he couldn't find where they could be in the prison also helped him to notice that Michonne was nowhere to be found, either.

"Rick!" Daryl shouted across the courtyard, the door of the prison slamming against the wall behind him as he rushed out. "You seem Jamie anywhere?" Immediately, Rick's expression pinched into a frown as his eyes darted quickly over the expanse of the yard he could see, as though she would be out beyond the fence for some reason or another.

"No, not since this morning. She did say she was going to be securing the doors in the tombs today, though."

"Already looked through the tombs." Normally, Daryl wouldn't have been too worried if he couldn't find Jamie right away; she was quick and quiet, sometimes he'd just barely miss her going down another hallway and not even realize she was there. But this time was different. "Merle and Michonne are gone, too."

The semi-concerned frown on Rick's face grew grave at the other man's words, immediate tension building in his muscles. His stomach felt like it was in knots, even more so than when he'd gone to meet the Governor. There's no way it's a coincidence that all three would be missing at the same time, no matter how big the prison was.

"You searched the tombs? All of them?"

"Didn't go far into the service area, Jamie didn't have any work to do down that way," Daryl explained as the two men simultaneously turned on heel and headed for the door that Daryl had come barreling out of only a short minute before. He took the lead into the tombs, Rick close to his flank as they rushed through the darkness with practiced ease. "I found Merle lurking around the generator rooms earlier today; said he was looking for drugs," Daryl explained along the way, making a sharp left that Rick followed easily.

"You think he'd have taken them both?"

"I can see why he'd be after Michonne, but Jamie? What's he need her for?"

The conversation wasn't helping the withheld panic and concern in the two men, nor the way the question hung in the air after that. Jamie wasn't wanted by the Governor, but Rick wasn't sure if it was past Merle to try and hand her over to the man to gain favor again. "No way he could handle them both," Rick tried to assure.

The door to the generator room was closed when they got there, but with no way to lock it Daryl just had to give a solid shove with his shoulder for the metal to swing open with a shriek of rusted hinges. The main room was empty save for old crap lying around and the dust floating in the air.

"Did he say anything else while he was in here?" Rick asked as he immediately moved past Daryl to look around the corners of the room, searching for any sign that Jamie may have been there. Or Michonne for that matter.

"Said a lot, actually," Daryl muttered, turning to the right to look around the larger generators, just in case Merle was trying to hide something from being found. Rick went to the left, checking the side room that held more stores of junk left behind.

The moment he saw the motionless body next to the supply shelf, out of sight from the main doorway, Rick's heart simultaneously leapt into his throat and dropped to his feet at the same time. "Daryl!" he shouted, sounding somewhat choked as he rushed to where Jamie was lying, wrists tied over her stomach and her head cushioned on a folded, torn sheet. One hand came to rest over her sternum while he sought out a pulse with the other, instinctively checking that she was breathing and her heartbeat was regular.

Daryl nearly collided with the doorframe in his rush to get around to Rick, his crossbow discarded on the floor in an instant. "Shit," he swore loudly, slamming to his knees near Jamie's head as Rick pulled back to give the other man room.

"She's breathing and her heartbeat's okay; she's just unconscious." The explanation barely soothed Daryl's worries as he cradled her face gently, flinching back when he spotted the red of blood in her hair. Rick used his switchblade to cut the wire-ties from her wrists, faint red marks left in their wake. She didn't flinch of react, completely out cold, as he gently rubbed his thumbs soothingly over the angry welts, prompting circulation to return.

"Her head's bleeding," Daryl grumbled angrily, realizing that Merle must have snuck up on her and cracked her over the head to knock her out. "Let's get her up to Hershel, she might have a concussion."

"He took her guns," Rick realized as he checked to make sure her ankles weren't bound up as well. They both knew that Jamie didn't go anywhere without at least one gun. "That's why he went after Jamie. Knocked her out so she couldn't stop him or warn us; got himself a weapon, too." Her knife was still in her boot, however, so at least Merle hadn't left her completely defenseless. That is, if he even knew that the knife was there; she didn't have the sheath anymore, having had it confiscated by the Governor's men, so her next best option was to stash it in her tall boot, the handle barely visible most of the time.

Daryl had never felt such overwhelming anger toward his brother; he'd done many things to verbally slight Jamie, even harassed her into nearly getting punched in the face, but he'd never outwardly harmed her to this degree. He noticed that he'd placed the sheet under her head, but that didn't quell the rage from seeing her blonde hair tinged with blood. A decent amount of force was required to split her skin like that.

"I'm gunna kill the fucker," he growled lowly as he carefully looked over Jamie's body for any sign of another injury. Thankfully, his search came up clean aside from the wounds that Rick was carefully pressing over on her wrists, returning the blood flow to her hands. Once satisfied, he carefully lifted Jamie from the floor—even though he was worried about her in that moment, he was relieved to feel that she was starting to get heavier again. "I'm gunna find him, and I'm gunna kill him."

"We'll worry about that later," Rick assured, picking up Daryl's discarded bow. "Let's just make sure she's alright first."

The trip through the tombs felt significantly longer than usual, Daryl needing to carefully manoeuvre Jamie's body through the doorways. Rick always kept a careful eye, watching to make sure that her head never slipped from where it was resting on Daryl's shoulder. It also made Daryl want to give Jamie a pat on the back for having carried Lori's body from the tombs; it was quite a distance and she hadn't been at her healthiest when the other woman died, and Lori had been at a healthy, pregnant weight—sans baby.

Rick rushed ahead of Daryl to unlock the door to their cellblock, holding the metal gate open for the other man. Hershel and his daughters were already in the ante-room, sitting at one of the tables as they spoke quietly.

"Jamie!" Beth gasped first, shooting to her feet when she spotted the limp form in Daryl's arms. "Is she okay? What happened?"

Hershel and Maggie stood as well, the former slightly more shakily as he reached for his crutches. "Merle knocked her out for her guns," Rick explained. "Her head's bleeding."

"Go lay her down," Hershel instructed as he motioned toward the cellblock. "Maggie, get my bag? She might need stitches."

While Beth rushed over to get the other door for Daryl, Maggie helped Hershel to grab his medical bag to follow. Rick closed to gate to the tombs with a dark look marring his features, knowing that Merle must be half way to the Governor by now, with Michonne in tow. He hadn't been able to do it—he couldn't kill a woman who had helped them, in many ways, and live with himself afterword. Did that make him a good person? Sure, he hadn't wanted to kill an innocent woman, but he also hadn't been man enough to put his entire group above one life.

Beth helped Daryl lay Jamie onto their bed carefully. She cradled the woman's bleeding head as Daryl placed her gently atop the mattress, taking the utmost care as he did so. With his eyes lingering on Jamie's face, thankfully showing no sign of pain, Daryl knew that he had to go after his brother. Rick would want to do it, he knew, but Merle was his blood brother and he was the one who brought him back to the prison.

"Stay with her, okay?" Daryl asked quietly as he looked to Beth, who was already angling Jamie's head to the side so her father could get a better look at the back of her head, which was still seeping blood at a slow pace. "I gotta go shoot my brother."

Beth's lips gave a faint twitch, whether to smile or frown Daryl couldn't tell, before she nodded. "Be careful," she whispered, knowing that Daryl was about to leave the prison again. She never liked it when anyone had to leave the protective fences. Something always seemed to go wrong when they left the grounds, and she didn't want to lose Daryl as well.

She doubted Jamie would survive if he died.

Daryl left just in time for Hershel to join them, nodding to the older man as he once more placed Jamie in trusted hands. Rick met him outside the cell, arms weighed down with his gun and Daryl's crossbow. "You're going after him." It wasn't a question.

"I'm the one who brought him here; that's on me. And you ain't coming with. Stay here and watch the prison, keep an eye on Jamie for me." Daryl accepted his crossbow when Rick held it out, swinging it over his shoulder and relaxing at its familiar weight. "You know they'll come back here so you gotta be ready."

Glancing back toward the door of the cell he shared with Jamie, Daryl watched quietly for a moment as Maggie and Beth carefully manoeuvred Jamie onto her side so Hershel could get better access to the back of her head.

Heaving a sigh, Daryl returned his attention to the other man before him. "You gotta be ready, Rick," he repeated, stressing to the leader of their group and one of his closest friends. He had a lot to lose if the Governor got this place. "You're family, too."

He didn't leave a moment for Rick to respond, pushing passed him to make his way out of the cellblock. He'd have to hurry if he was going to catch up with Merle; from the dried state of Jamie's head wound, he knew that the other man had at least an hour on him already. Michonne probably slowed him down a bit, but not so much that Daryl could spare anymore time lagging.

Rick remained close by as Hershel cleaned the wound on the back of Jamie's head; thankfully it wouldn't require stitches, which the amount of blood had given the impression of when they'd seen her hair. Head wounds bled a lot, Hershel commented as he recruited Beth to hold the gauze in place until the remainder of the bleeding stopped. Jamie remained completely out of it, the blow enough to really put her out.

"Thankfully, there's no concussion this time," Hershel assured as he washed the small amount of blood from his hands. "It was a small cut, mostly just because of the brick surface she hit. She should be up in a few hours. There's gunna be a headache for a bit, maybe the next day, but she's strong. She'll get through it."

"Thank you, Hershel," Rick mumbled, keeping an eye on where Jamie lay, Beth perched beside her as she did her job and stopped the bleeding. Maggie already promised to make sure Judith was alright so that Beth wasn't worried about having to rush away. Everyone could see that Beth had a bit of an attachment to Jamie, kind of like how Carl idolized Daryl.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," the older man pointed out as he glanced down to his hands, the damp rag smeared pale red while his hands were once more pale and clean, though strongly calloused. "What's the matter, Rick?"

No matter how he tried to hide it, Hershel always had a way of seeing right through him. Jamie had a similar talent that he'd heard Daryl complain about it a time or two as well.

His attention flickered from Hershel to Jamie for a moment, remember that gut-dropping fear that had wrapped around him the second he'd rounded the doorway to find Jamie on the floor. "When we found her…that first glimpse I got and all I could think of was that she was dead. That I was the one to let someone into the prison and he'd killed her. Then I felt her chest moving under my hand and I felt her pulse, I knew she was alive, but for that one instant I was terrified that inviting Merle into this prison had killed her."

Hershel could see in Rick's eyes that he spoke only the truth—even the fear he was referring to was reflected so clearly in the soft blue that Hershel could only pity the younger man. "I've had a chance to speak with Merle while he was here, and I know he'd never do harm to her." There was a flicker in Rick's eyes, one that Hershel knew well. "It's true. Hurting Jamie would hurt Daryl, and Merle only wants to do what he can to protect and provide for his brother—not in the most conventional ways, but it seems to be all he knows."

Rick's tone nearly dropped to a growl as he leaned closer to Hershel. "I'm pretty sure slamming her head against a wall is considered hurting her-"

"He could have done far worse, Rick, and you know that. He only wanted to her guns. He wanted to stop her from getting in the way, so he needed her unconscious. Out of all the things he could have done, this is the least harmful."

Exhaling strongly through his nose, forcing himself to calm down, Rick knew that Hershel was right. Merle could just as easily have killed her if he wanted to stop her. Thinking back on it now, he also realized that he put her somewhere that she would be safest while both keeping her unfound and away from walkers that might get into the tombs. The door had been closed as firmly as possible without a lock. Her wrists were bound but her ankles left free. He only wanted her out of the way.

"Gather the group out in the courtyard for me," Rick requested calmly. "I need to talk to everyone."

While the others made their way out into the cooling autumn air, gathering before Rick as he stood with a solemn look on his face, Jamie shifted where she was lying on the cot she shared with Daryl.

Pain ricocheted through her skull as her consciousness returned, forcing a wince and a hiss through her teeth. She was careful with opening her eyes, hesitant about any light that might penetrate her sensitive retinas. However, the cellblock was beginning to darken as the sun started its descent for the day. She could recognize the angle of the light through the windows.

Merle.

The memory of the man slamming her head into the wall, the sickening sound of it still echoing in her mind, caused her to vault into a sitting position so fast the entire room spun around her. "Shit," she swore faintly, her hand moving to the back of her skull where the pain was beginning to ebb. Her hair was crusty with blood, but she felt no bandages and gentle probing only resulting in her finding one small wound. It was probably caused by a protruding piece of brick.

Letting the world settle again, she stood much more carefully than when she'd sat up and made sure to keep a strong hold of the top bunk so as not to fall over.

The cellblock was silent around her, a cause for concern since there was usually something going on—whether it was Judith being fussy or someone cleaning guns. There was always some kind of sound that assured her the group was there.

But she was alone now.

If they weren't in the cellblock, they had to be outside.

Standing in front of the group as he was, Rick tried not to think too much on the night after the farm had fallen. He tried not to remember how he'd fallen apart so completely in Jamie's arms, or how the group had been so close to turning on him, staring him down with complete distrust. He didn't want them to look at him like that again. They were his family now. All of them.

"When I met with the Governor, he offered me a deal. He said he would leave us alone if I gave him Michonne. And…I was gunna do that…to keep us safe. I changed my mind. But now Merle took Michonne to fulfil the deal, and Daryl went to stop him and I don't know if it's too late." Looking around, he could see the stirrings of doubt and mistrust in some of the familiar faces around him. The sight made him nauseous.

"I was wrong not to tell you. And I'm sorry. What I said last year, that first night after the farm, it can't be like that. It can't. What we do, what we're willing to do, who we are, it's not my call. It can't be. I couldn't sacrifice one of us for the greater good, because we are the greater good. We're the reason we're still here, not me. This is life and death. How you live…how you die…it isn't up to me. I'm not your Governor. We choose to go. We choose to stay. We stick together. We vote; we can stay and we can fight, or we can go."

He knew he couldn't stay out with the rest of them; they needed time to make their own decisions without him there. So, he walked away. At first, he wanted to go and visit Jamie to see if she was awake, but Hershel had assured that she wouldn't wake up for a few hours. Instead, he went to one of the second story balconies, overlooking the yard.

With everyone in the courtyard they didn't have anyone on watch. He'd give them that peace of mind, and hopefully keep an eye out for any of the three missing members of their group. He wasn't quite sure of he could call Merle that, or even Michonne for that matter, but to have the two suddenly gone made him feel off. Especially since their absence had resulted in Daryl leaving as well.

Standing at the railing for not even a minute, movement along the treeline caught his attention and Rick quickly raised the rifle he'd carried up with him. The sight of Michonne, sword in hand, brought a sense of relief that quelled only a slight amount of the tension in his body.

Because Daryl and Merle weren't with her.

Abandoning the walkway to make for the gate, he wasn't so concerned with her getting through the field with the walkers there. They were dispersed away from the walkway so she just needed to be fast and take out what walkers were in her way. The metal stairs clattered loudly as he descended them, slinging the rifle over his shoulder to free his hands.

He wasn't hurried, letting Michonne make her way through the small field with her sword drawn for protection. He reached the gate just before she did and popped open the familiar locks to let her inside.

"Where's Daryl?" he asked immediately, glancing over her form to make note that she didn't seem injured at all. Michonne didn't take it personally, even though she now knew that there had been debates about handing her over to the Governor in exchange for the prison group's safety.

"Merle let me go, Daryl caught up while I was on my way back and wanted me to tell you not to let anyone follow him. He was going for Merle."

Rick's teeth gritted, looking to the ground. "The Governor will kill them," he growled out in frustration. Of course Daryl would tell them not to come after him. Although, he strongly suspected that Daryl intended for that to mean only Jamie was to be prevented from following him. Knowing her, she'd take off after the brothers in a heartbeat.

"I'm pretty sure Merle intents to kill them all before they get the chance-"

"Rick!"

Beth's shriek drew the attention of both parties, their hearts jumping in their chest as they watched her race across the courtyard. A look of fear was on her face, prompting the two by the gate to immediately draw their weapons again. Had walkers gotten into the cellblock? Did he and Daryl forget to lock one of the doors on their way back with Jamie?

"Jamie's gone!" Beth shouted in a rush once she was only a few yards away from them. "Some of the guns are missing and her knife's gone. She must have taken off after Daryl!"

Rick's arms went slack in shock, the gun almost falling from his grip had it not been for the strap still looked over his arm.

Not one of the smartest things that she's ever done; Jamie can admit that in complete honesty. The pain in her head was manageable—it sucked royally to be running with it, but it was still manageable—and the adrenaline of knowing that Daryl, and Merle, were off to face the Governor and his men alone. They were more than likely running into an ambush.

Her leg was healed so she could run just as efficiently as she had before, but her head was spinning enough that she had to stop at times just to make sure she was running in the right direction. Thankfully, the meeting spot was the same as last time when Rick and the Governor had first sat down to officially talk so she knew the way.

The sparse amount of walkers didn't really register to her until she started getting closer to the meeting place, noticing that there were more and more walkers stumbling around. They'd been drawn in to that specific location. Stopping a couple yards shy of the treeline, heaving for air and taking refuge against a tree for a moment, Jamie's stomach rolled at the thought of what she might find.

Closing her eyes against the pounding in the back of her skull, Jamie swore that this was the last stupid thing she was going to do—who was she kidding? Daryl was her Achilles heel; she'd always do stupid shit when it came to him. So, with that reluctant thought in mind, Jamie pushed away from the tree with her knife in hand and a gun in close reach.

It only took a couple of paces passed the treeline for her to know Daryl was there; a walker with a bolt sticking out of the back of its head was right in her path. Stopping only long enough to remove the arrow and slide it into her belt, uncaring of the gore now on her pants, Jamie quickened her pace toward the silos and buildings. The disturbing sense of déjà vu left her somewhat cautious, with irritating thoughts of Andrea in the back of her mind from when they were last here.

Glancing back the way she'd come, the sun was setting quickly along the horizon and leaving a faint pink hue peeking through the dying trees. If they were going to get back to the prison before dark they'd have to be quick.

She didn't even let herself think that she might be heading back there alone; that wasn't an option in her mind.

The dead bodies of walkers were scattered across the ground already, as well as several torn up and eaten bodies of the less fortunate. Wrinkling her nose against the smell, Jamie pushed forward as she held her breath in short increments, giving a reprieve against the stench of rotting flesh, half roasted in the sun for the past couple of hours. She didn't see any more with Daryl's arrows in their heads, but most looked to have been taken out with a bullet through the head.

Now she could understand why the compound was being surrounded by the walkers in the forest, they were drawn in by the smell of the partially eaten ones.

Walking around a large mess of human insides and blood, Jamie swallowed around the tightening in her throat when there was still no sign of Daryl or Merle. There didn't seem to be a sign of anyone alive; although the number of dead bodies confirmed that something had gone wrong for the Governor's group, more than likely orchestrated by Merle.

Rounding the corner of one of the buildings, barely more than ruins at this point, Jamie halted abruptly as her eyes came to rest on the hunched over form a couple of yards ahead. The leather vest with tattered wings on the back told her exactly who it was, back to her with his head bowed to give her the perfect view of his tell-tale vest. She almost stepped forward, her lips parting in preparation to call to him.

Why was he just sitting like that? There were walkers still walking around, and more showing up by the minute.

Please, please don't be bit, she thought shakily.

Then she glanced to the dead body closest to Daryl, the face completely destroyed and unrecognizable. However, it was a bit hard not to make the connection when she saw the clothing that the walker had been wearing. Merle.

All at once, the tension and fear bled out of Jamie as her heart plummeted. Oh, Daryl. I'm so sorry. She never liked Merle very much, there were few moments when they got along even slightly, but she never would have wished for this death on anyone. Especially when Daryl was the one to find him and put him down.

"Daryl," she called softly; even to her own ears her voice sounded strangled and raw.

His shoulders flinched when she spoke, but he didn't look up.

Jamie's feet barely made any noise as she approached, ignoring the smell of rotting flesh as she moved to kneel behind Daryl's prone form—he was trembling just slightly. "Daryl, I'm so sorry." Her hand came to rest on his arm, trying her best to ignore the way he was shaking beneath her touch, before her forehead came to rest on his shoulder.

She knew there was nothing more than could be said. When her parents had died he had been there for her. That was all she needed; someone to hold her when she was going through the worst pain in her life thus far. Words can never change what happened or make it better, so sometimes it was best to just remain silent.

They sat there for several minutes, Jamie's attention keen around them as she made sure that no walkers approached while Daryl was weak, giving him his chance to mourn. Thankfully, the overwhelming smell of rotting walkers seemed to mask them. Eventually, she felt Daryl lean back into her the slightest bit, the faint pressure all she needed as prompt as she shifted to wrap her arms securely around his shoulders, her face pressed into his hair.

The sun continued to set with the world darkening around them. Jamie didn't care about that anymore. She'd rather remain here and let Daryl have however long he needed, rather than rush back to the prison to beat the night.

When he released a shaky breath and reached up to clasp one of her hands, his skin chilled from the autumn air, she knew he would be alright.

So…this was a really long time in the making. I'm a terrible person and I am so sorry for that. Admittedly, watching the newest season with Negan kind of made me dread what was to come in this story but at the same time excited to get writing again. Season 6 and 7 are going to be heartbreaking to write…