C H A P T E R    2 1

❛ hostiles and calamities ❜

QUINN

          SHE COULD STILL CLEARLY REMEMBER THE night Milo came to pick her up at uncle Javier and aunt Miranda's house. She was thirteen years old, Milo had just turned twenty-one. It had been raining, hard, like even the weather mourned the loss of what had been a peaceful shelter for many years. Over time, the wounds caused by her broken relationship with her father had begun to heal. But times were hard. Her aunt had been forced to quit working because of complications with her pregnancy. Uncle Javier worked as much as he could but his job simply didn't pay enough to take care of his own kid as well as his niece.

Milo had just found a place of his own. At the time she hadn't questioned how he managed to afford the small apartment. Now she knew better and even today it was still hard not to blame herself for his turn to crime. Perhaps it had been for the best though because the money meant she didn't have to move back in with her father. Which she probably wouldn't have survived.

Aunt Miranda had been crying as she hugged her just a little bit too tightly. At thirteen years old she'd simply thought her aunt was going to miss her. Now, Quinn wondered if perhaps she felt guilty or ashamed for failing to provide for her. She hoped not because she had never blamed her family. Of course she hadn't liked having to move out but never once had she felt any anger towards Javier and Miranda for it, or towards their children Eliza and Louis. Quite the opposite. Together with Milo they'd visited their family as often as possible. She adored spending time with her little niece and nephew.

They'd been a happy family despite all of their troubles. That was, until they discovered what Milo did for a living. A picture of him and his crew had appeared in the news asking for information about their whereabouts. Over night they'd cut all ties and Quinn never saw them again. Until now...

Impatiently, she paced back and forth in front of the basement Morgan had turned into a cell. Inside, her uncle was waiting. Probably going over all the possible means they might use to try and get the information they needed from him. He didn't have to worry though, Quinn wouldn't allow anyone to torture him. But she feared she might need Milo's support to convince the rest of her family of the same thing.

From his position seated on the stairs, Daryl was observing her in silence. His piercing gaze weighed heavy on her but she tried to ignore it the best she could. He hadn't liked her decision to bring a Savior inside their walls one bit. He didn't even bother to try and hide it. Not that it mattered. It wasn't like she needed his permission. Though she would've liked to at least have his support...

"Quinn?"

She froze in her step, watching as Milo and Rick approached. Daryl got his feet to let them pass and her brother walked straight towards her. He pulled her into a tight embrace and for a moment, Quinn allowed herself to melt into his arms. The fight was far from over but she was glad to know they'd both come this far unscatched.

"I came as soon as I could," Milo mumbled into her hair before letting her go and taking a step back. "Where is he?"

She gestured towards the door. "In there." She took the keys out of her pocket and made her way inside, followed closely by the three men.

The basement was cool and dark. The only light came falling through a small window high up in the wall. It formed a square shape on the floor. Through the bars of the cell she saw her uncle seated on a chair, just beside the square of light. His eyes were weary and filled with distrust, following their every movement. Though a small spark of warmth flickered deep within his gaze when he looked at Quinn and Milo. She wasn't sure if he couldn't hide it or simply didn't want to. He was a stranger now, she couldn't be sure of anything he did.

Quinn opened the door to the cell and stepped inside. Milo stood by her side while Rick and Daryl lingered near the door. They looked like lions, ready to pounce at their prey. She inhaled deeply, trying to ignore their presence.

Milo seemed to have a much easier time ignoring their vigilant friends. "It's really you," he stammered with wide eyes. 

A faint smile appeared on Javier's features. "My voice wasn't enough to convince ya?"

Milo grinned though his eyes still held a hint of hesitance. "Can't be too careful these days."

"Glad to hear your wits haven't abandoned you completely, kiddo," he said as his gaze flickered to the two men behind them.

Even though he tried to hide it, Quinn noticed the way Milo's jaw clenched. As if he had to physically force himself to swallow his words. He clearly didn't like being told they were just as bad, or even worse, as Negan. Especially not considering his struggle of trying to prevent them from starting this all out war...

"How did you end up with the Saviors?" She asked, relieving Milo of the struggle of forming his next sentence.

"How did you end up killing innocent people?" Their uncle was quick to retort.

Her features hardened. "We didn't start this war."

Javier scoffed. "Those dead men and women at the satellite outpost prove otherwise."

"Negan terrorised the Hilltop and the Kingdom long before we even heard of him," Quinn replied, the name of their tormenter tasting like ash on her tongue. "He's killed innocents just to make a point. We are trying to end it."

Her words didn't seem to have any affect on her uncle whatsoever. The steel glance within his eyes didn't fade in the slightest. In fact, it only hardened. A seemingly impenetrable shell he wore to protect himself from the outside world. She realized right then they were going to have to try their very hardest to break through his exterior. Especially if they were going to get the answers they needed. And they didn't have much time to do so. If the Saviors managed to get those guns to the Sanctuary, they could quickly gain the upperhand. Their carefully revised plan would fall apart.

Which was exactly the reason she had called Milo here. He, far better than anyone else she knew, was able to appeal to people's hearts. And she had no trouble naming the reason either. He had such a big heart himself that he always held faith in the hearts of others. He also happened to be far better at putting his judgement aside than she was...

"I'm not interested in discussing who did what and when," Milo spoke firmly. His eyes lingered on Quinn a moment longer to make sure she knew his words were meant for her too. "I came here to ask your help."

"Then you're wasting your time. I already told your sister I'm not interested in talking."

"And we're not interested in wastin' our damn time. Ya don't talk, ya die," Daryl sneered from where he was leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

She was about to scowl at him for threatening her family but never got a chance to do so. Surprise hit her like a brick wall when Javier started laughing. An actual, truly amused, laugh. And judging by the way Daryl narrowed his gaze at her uncle, he clearly hadn't expected such a reaction either.

Javier shook his head, still grinning. "Oh, Angelina, out of all the choices left, I can't believe you chose this hothead. "

Quinn frowned, trying to act like the nickname from her childhood hadn't made her heart tremble. "We're not here to discuss my personal life."

"Then what are we doing?" Javier asked, suddenly sounding angry. "Because I sure as hell can't think of another reason you kept me alive!"

She inhaled sharply, unprepared for such a response. Her muscles tensed. Even Daryl's presence as he moved to stand next to her didn't calm her down. This wasn't going at all the way she'd hoped...

"I want to know where those guns are. That's the reason you're still alive," she spoke through gritted teeth. "We know they are stashed in one of the outposts in case of an emergency. We thought it was the one you were stationed at but turns out we were wrong. So," she took a step forward, features hardened, "where are they?"

His brown eyes stared back at her, unmoving. Eyes so much like her father, though they held a golden hue that Nick's never had. They made his gaze warmer, even when he was looking at her with such animosity. His lips were a thin line as he bit back whatever remark he might've wanted to give. An impenetrable shell.

With the clicking of his brown boots, Rick finally walked forward. "We're gonna win. With or without your help." He gestured at her and Milo. "They're trying to do it with you. Don't force them to do it without you."

Javier moved his stone cold gaze towards her friend. "Rick Grimes, still trying to be the good guy." He scoffed. "Haven't you figured it out by now? There are no more good guys."

"Maybe not," Rick agreed with that reasonable cop voice of his. "But there are those who are fighting for a better future. For all of us. Can you honestly say Negan wants the same?"

"I don't give a fuck about what that asshole wants," Javier snapped. "Who says that's what I want?"

And suddenly it became crystal clear to her what this was truly about. The true reason he didn't want to help them. It wasn't about sides at all. It was about pain. The unbearable, heavy and unshakable pain of grief.

Her eyes flashed to Milo. From one look at his face, she knew he'd come to that very same conclusion. They were approaching this the wrong way...

She turned to look at Rick and Daryl. Her voice surprisingly steady despite her aching heart. "Can you give us a moment alone?"

She was barely done speaking but Daryl's reaction was plainly written across his features. His jaw was set, his eyes holding that stubborn fire she loved so much. But it wasn't what she needed right now. So, she turned to look at Rick instead. He was a lot calmer, observing her with that questioning gaze that made him look so much like his son. Whether he knew what she was planning to do or not, he seemed to at least understand she had some sort of plan. So, at last, he nodded.

He placed a firm hand on Daryl's shoulder before the archer could protest. Which Quinn was glad for because she wasn't sure she would've been able to convince him to leave on her own. With a shake of his head, Daryl scoffed before turning around and storming out of the basement.

"I'll talk to him," Rick promised her. Then, with a voice much more stern, he added: "You've got ten minutes."

"That's all we need," Milo replied with a nod.

As Rick left the room, Quinn braced herself for what they were about to hear. It was very likely she would end up hating herself for making her uncle relive his traumas. But right now, it was the only thing she could think of to prevent a lot of people from losing their families as well...

With a sigh Quinn leaned against the wall with her arms across her chest. Milo took a seat on the floor. He looked vigilant but his eyes were kind. Far kinder than hers probably were but her patience was wearing thin.

"I've been wondering why Nick hadn't mentioned you," Quinn began, eyes taking in every small movement Javier made. "Now I think I know why." Her voice was sharp as she opened fire. "You're just as bad as he used to be."

Javier's eyes flashed with emotion, far too fast for her to recognize it. Though he remained silent. Which meant she had to push even further.

"Punishing others because you can't cope with your own grief?" She shrugged. "Apparantly it's a family trait of ours."

Milo nodded, knowing perfectly well what she was trying to do. "Not the family trait I'd hoped to inherit but seems like we never learned otherwise."

"My brother didn't know I was with the Saviors," Javier said. "I made sure of it. I had no desire to see him."

She tilted her head. "Scared you would look at him and see yourself?"

Once again his eyes flashed, this time it was clear he was angry. "That's low, even for you."

Quinn chuckled dryly. "Then please, do tell, is there some other reason you're not helping us that you just forgot to mention?" She took a step forward, narrowing her eyes at him. "Because from what I've heard so far, I can't really draw another conclusion than that you're a coward."

A heavy sigh left Javier's lips as he massaged his forehead. All of a sudden he looked many years older as pain and grief weighed down on him. He was no longer the man who laughed and played with her as a kid. The man who'd glowed with immense pride whenever he looked at his children. He was a ghost, a mere shadow of who he used to be. And while the same could be said for most who survived the outbreak, in that moment her uncle looked as though he would never truly heal again.

"What happened?" Milo asked, his voice much kinder than hers had been. In situations such as this one, their differences were their strength. She broke through the walls while Milo helped to pick up the pieces. But only if their uncle would decide to cooperate.

The siblings let the silence drag on, forcing the words to echo through the small room. Their tactic had the effect they wanted because finally, Javier opened his mouth.

"When the outbreak started, Miranda and I grabbed the kids and headed out of the city. We found shelter with a few others. Including your friends." He all but spat that last word though neither Milo or Quinn reacted to his hostility. "But it wasn't safe there, we had to move on. After a lot of talking Miranda and I decided to head to Birmingham to find you two."

He inhaled sharply and Quinn buried her nails in her arm, dreading his next words.

"We never got there though. With just the four of us we weren't equipped enough to protect ourselves. First we lost Eliza. She was bit while we were searching for shelter in a house." His eyes hardened as he continued, protecting himself from the pain. "Miranda and Louis were ripped apart by a herd. All I could do was watch. The only reason I didn't die right there was because I hurt my leg and they'd locked me in the car. For hours I had to listen to those corpses banging against the doors. At some point I even hoped they'd manage to break through and end it. But they didn't and I had to move on."

Once again silence fell and this time, Quinn would've given anything to break it. But she had no words, nothing to ease the pain, no hope that could make this suffering any easier. Luckily, Milo spared her from having to search for words.

"I'm sorry," her brother spoke softly.

Javier smiled bitterly. "Me too." Then he shook his head. "I can't do what you're asking me to do. I won't let you kill any more families. I already have too much blood on my hands."

"I know," Milo said with a nod. "But even if we don't get those guns, people are still going to die. None of those lives are your responsibility. All you're responsibile for is chosing what to do with your life. How you will move on and honor their memory."

Quinn reached in her pocket and took out the picture she'd taken from the outpost. Four smiling faces looked up at her and her heart ached at the sight. Even more innocent lives taken away by this cruel and unforgiving world. She walked towards her uncle, holding on tightly to the paper between her fingers.

"I forgave my dad, for everything. I would do the same for you but it's not my forgiveness you need." She threw the picture on the ground. "It's theirs."

Javier's eyes were glued to the photo, the memory of happier times holding him captive.

"It's true what Rick said, we're not the good guys. We're simply fighting for a better future for all of us," Milo said as he got to his feet. "If you think that means we're planning on killing innocent families with those guns, there's nothing I can say to convince you otherwise. All I can do is hope you can find it within yourself to trust us."

For a moment her eyes lingered on her uncle, hoping to find even a little piece of the man she'd used to know. But he was lost behind a mask of grief and she couldn't recognize him. So, she turned around and left the cell.

Milo's footsteps followed her out of the basement, locking the door behind him. A shaky breath left his lips, making Quinn halt and turn to look at him.

"Hey," she muttered softly upon seeing the saddened frown on his features. She walked forward and pulled him into a hug. "It's gonna be okay."

He smiled sadly. "I'm not so sure about that anymore, Quinn."

She pulled away from him so she could look him in the eye. "I am. I have to be. Otherwise we might as well just give up now."

Milo smiled despite the tears glittering within his eyes. "Look at you giving me a peptalk for once."

Despite the weight pulling at her chest, she grinned. "I learned from the best."

Her grinn quickly faded when the sound of running footsteps came echoing down the street, along with a voice shouting Rick's name. Sharing a worried look, the two siblings huried up the remaining stairs and walked out onto the street.

Daryl and Rick stood waiting there for them. Though their eyes were now turned towards Heath, who was catching his breath as he finally reached them.

"We got word from the Kingdom," he finally managed to speak. "They took out one outpost but when moving on to the second..." He fell quiet, then his eyes hardened as he forced himself to speak the words. "Almost all of their soldiers were killed. Only Carol, Ezekiel and Jerry made it out alive."

Quinn watched as Daryl visibly relaxed at the news of his best friend being alive. Though his blue eyes were filled with rage at the news.

"How?" Rick asked, his voice heavy with guilt and regret.

Heath shook his head. "I don't know. Carol didn't say much more over the radio, said something about having to talk with Ezekiel. Then she was gone."

Her heart ached with regret when thinking of the king. He'd tried so hard to stay out of this war in order to protect his people. Meanwhile she'd berated and judged him for it and now he lost everyone...

With a sudden fiery, hot anger surging through her, she turned on her heels and headed back towards the basement. She ignored Milo calling out her name, she ignored her own heart warning her that she might cross a line. All she was thinking of anymore was protecting those she loved, her family. Javier was no longer a part of that family. He made that pretty clear just now. So, perhaps it was time she stopped treating him as such.

She flung the door wide open as she stormed inside. Javier was still sitting the way she left him. His eyes turned towards the picture on the floor. But she was done feeling pity for him and his self hatred. She reached for her trusted dagger and pulled it free. Then, she kneeled in front of her uncle and brought the dagger down on the photo, right through his forehead.

"Where are the guns?" She asked, her voice filled with venom. The warning was more than clear.

Slowly, Javier lifted his eyes. A muscle was twitching in his jaw. As though he was literally biting back his words. He remained silent.

She got to her feet and with a speed that surprised even herself, she kicked his chair away, forcing him down on the ground. Before he could move away from her, she placed her foot on his throat.

"Tell me," she hissed, pressing down.

He wheezed and clawed at her leg but she didn't move.

"Quinn!"

She ignored her brother as she applied more pressure. Javier still clawed at her leg while coughing and gasping, though his strength was waning.

"You're killing him!"

That was the point.

White hot rage was surging through her and right now, her uncle was the easiest target. Her friends, good people, were getting slaughtered out there. Even when they had Negan and his accomplices cornered, the man still managed to squash them like bugs. She was done playing safe. They had to win this war, they had to.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around her torso and lifted her up, pulling her away from Javier, whose breath rattled as air filled his lungs again. She struggled, her anger far from extinguished. But the person holding her was much stronger. She was turned around and suddenly she was standing face to face with Daryl. His features were hardened, his eyes containing a hurricane. But, she realized after a moment, not aimed at her. He was feeling just as helpless, just as hopeless.

Without a word he lifted his thumb and wiped away the tears crawling down her cheeks. She hadn't even realized she was crying until he did so. Her entire body was shaking, making her hold on to Daryl's shoulders for support.

The silence that clung to the walls of the basement was heavy. Like a veil had been dropped after her actions, weighing them all down. Though it fell heaviest on Quinn herself...Now that most of her anger had left her body, regret took its place with a venomous ferocity, making her tremble even harder. But every word she wanted to say died on her tongue, not one came close enough to apologise with.

"You-" Javier choked on the words and coughed once again. But he seemed determined to speak and finally managed to rasp: "You're losing it. Just like I did, like I do."

She flinched, feeling suddenly dizzy. He might as well have slapped her right across her face; the effect was the same and her reaction didn't go unnoticed either. Daryl let go of her and stalked forward, his hands clenched and his muscles tensed.

Luckily for Javier, Milo was both fast and strong. Her brother jumped in front of Daryl and  stopped him with his arm placed against his chest. "Don't," he warned, features hardened in a way Quinn seldom saw. "Get her out of here," he ordered instead.

Daryl unclenched his hands and took a meassured breath before finally turning around. Though not without a glare at Javier.

She was still trembling all over, taking Daryl's hand in her own to keep her steady. And not just her feet...Though she'd barely taken a few steps when Javier spoke again.

"I was wrong."

She froze and for a moment the only sound she could hear was her own heartbeat. Then, slowly, she turned, forcing herself to look him in the eye. Immediately a lump appeared in her throat and no matter how hard she tried, it didn't go away.

"You don't fight for yourself," he said hoarsely. He pushed himself up against the wall, wincing as he did. "But that won't save you from it. No one can." His eyes flickered to Daryl and though he didn't look at all like he approved, there was less anger in his gaze now. Finally he looked back to her and she was both terrified and curious to hear his next words. "Even killing Negan won't save you from it."

She squeezed Daryl's hand tightly in her own, searching desperately for a lifeline. Relief filled her lungs when he rubbed his thumb across her skin in response.

"But I trust your anger is aimed solely at him," Javier continued, the words coming out more difficult with every sentence he spoke. "Not the innocent families who have no other choice but to work with him."

All she could do was nod, afraid that if she said the wrong thing he might change his mind.

"They keep the heavy guns at the abandoned warehouse down on Sixth. Your father knows the place."

"Thank you," she muttered.

Javier's features hardened. "I'd rather you didn't."

"I know," Quinn replied and with as much confidence as she could muster she added: "But I swear you won't regret it."

A U T H O R 'S  N O T E

Here I am, sitting beneath the Italian sun, finishing up another chapter! I've been on vacation these past few weeks and I've had so much time and inspiration to write. So, I'm very happy to be sharing a new chapter with you guys!

A little dark side of Quinn is starting to show. It has been for a while now but it looks like things might be getting out of hand...I absolutely love exploring this side of her. I hope you enjoy reading about it as well!

As always, please don't hesitate to vote and comment. I appreciate your support endlessly!

Much love,

Nelly