•

"On three. Stay tight," Rick said in a hushed voice, extending his arm in front of Lunette. She pressed herself against the wall, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

Daryl, positioned beside her, nodded curtly, his eyes focused and alert. Rick began the countdown, his voice barely audible over the distant gunfire and the smoke swirling around them. "Three... two... one."

With swift precision, Daryl flung the door open, tossing a smoke bomb out into the street. Instantly, thick clouds of smoke billowed, obscuring their movements from the Woodbury residents. Gripping Lunette's arm firmly, Daryl pulled her forward, urging her to move quickly as the rest of them followed behind.

Gunshots cracked through the air, punctuated by shouts and yells from both sides. Daryl stayed close to Lunette, her arm around his shoulders as they weaved between buildings, seeking cover. He glanced down at her grimly, noting the bruises and cuts marring her face and arms from the earlier beating. Despite her attempts to stay strong, he could see the pain etched in her expression.

Lunette gripped her gun tightly, gritting her teeth against the pain. Every step sent jolts of agony through her battered body. She tried to keep up, her determination pushing her forward even as her legs threatened to give out.

They crouched behind a crumbling brick wall, bullets whizzing overhead. Daryl glanced at Lunette, seeing her pale face and clenched jaw. "You a'right?" he asked gruffly, concern lacing his voice.

She nodded, though her breath came in ragged gasps. "Fine," she replied through gritted teeth, trying to steady her trembling hand as she raised her gun to return fire.

"You're a damn liar," Daryl muttered, glancing around their cover to fire off a few shots before pulling back. "Can barely walk straight."

Lunette glared at him, but the pain in her eyes betrayed her tough facade. "Just keep moving," she urged, pushing herself to follow as Daryl took point, shielding her with his body whenever possible.

They zigzagged through the chaotic streets, dodging bullets and returning fire whenever they found a brief chance. Lunette's legs felt like lead, her bruises screaming with each step. But she pressed on. They had to get out of there.

Seeking refuge, they hurried towards the nearest building, a small apartment complex with a small porch sheltering the entrance. Bullets whizzed past them as they reached the relative safety of the porch, pressing themselves against its walls, rejoining their group who was already there.

Lunette leaned heavily against the cool brick, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Maggie hurried over, steadying her with a firm hand on her back. "You okay?" she asked, concern etched in her voice.

The blonde let out a weak laugh, which quickly turned into a small coughing fit. "You guys should worry 'bout yourselves."

Daryl wasted no time. He pulled out a couple of handguns and several more smoke bombs from his bag, laying them out carefully. 

"How many?" Rick yelled over the deafening gunshots.

"I didn't see," Oscar replied in a shout.

"Don't matter," Daryl spoke, firmly placing a smoke bomb by his feet. "There's gonna be more of 'em. We need to move."

Rick's voice cut through the chaos, strained yet commanding. "Any grenades left?"

Daryl nodded tersely, reaching into his bag to retrieve the remaining grenades.

"Get 'em ready; we gotta gun it to the wall."

Lunette peeked around the wall's corner briefly but quickly withdrew as bullets whizzed dangerously close past her head. Maggie then grabbed her gun, fired a few shots, and returned to cover behind the wall.

"You guys go ahead; Imma lay down some coverin' fire," Daryl said, handing a gun to Glenn.

"No, we gotta stay together," Maggie protested, her back up straight against the wall.

"It's too hairy. I'll be right behind ya."

The smoke was beginning to thin, and through the haze, they could see the shapes of Woodbury's defenders closing in. Their options were limited.

Lunette's vision swam with the smoke, the crackle of gunfire punctuating the tense atmosphere. Her breathing came in shallow, ragged bursts, and every movement felt like it was dragging her through molasses. She tightened her grip on her gun, the weight of it barely registering through the throbbing pain in her arms.

"Ready?" Daryl asked tersely, not waiting for a reply before he hurled a few smoke bombs back into the streets. The grenades exploded with sharp pops, sending billowing clouds of smoke swirling through the air.

Rick nodded, his jaw set. "Go!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos. The group moved as one, sprinting from their cover behind the porch and racing down the street towards the wall.

Oscar was the one supporting Lunette now, his arm tightly gripping her so to not lose her. Bullets whizzed past them, hitting the ground and walls around them with deadly precision. She could feel the heat of the gunfire as they neared the wall, adrenaline pushing her forward despite the burning pain.

Lunette, Maggie, Oscar, and Glenn sprinted towards the school bus parked by the wall, their breaths ragged and hearts pounding with adrenaline. Bullets zipped through the air around them, hitting the ground and sending shards of debris flying. 

Oscar scrambled up the side of the bus first, his breaths short as he scrambled up the side. "Come on, hurry!" he urged, extending a hand down to Glenn, who grasped it tightly and pulled himself up beside Oscar. 

"Lunette, up here!" He called out, leaning over the edge of the bus to offer her a hand.

She limped towards the bus, her injured leg slowing her down. She could feel the burning ache in her muscles with each step, but she pushed herself forward, adrenaline masking the pain to some extent. Oscar leaned down, his strong arms reaching out to help her up. Just as he gripped her hand, a sharp crack echoed through the air.

Lunette cried out as a bullet struck Oscar, piercing through his side. His grip faltered, but he gritted his teeth and managed to pull Lunette up onto the bus before collapsing, his body slumping down the bus and onto the ground.

"Oscar!" Maggie shouted, her voice tinged with panic. She knelt beside him, pressing her hands against the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. "Rick! Rick!"

Lunette leaned against Glenn as they watched Maggie's futile attempts to save Oscar. He was bleeding out. And they had to go—now.

Glenn yelled, "Maggie!" to try and get her attention.

"I know!" Maggie yelled back at him, her voice breaking.

She raised her gun, her hands shaking. With a heavy heart, she fired a single shot into Oscar's head, the sound echoing through the chaotic street.

For a brief moment, everything seemed to stand still. Maggie climbed onto the school bus, her face a mask of pain and anger. Rick was right behind her, quickly helping Lunette to stand as he climbed up.

"We have to move!" he urged, his voice urgent and firm. "Daryl!"

Daryl, still in the street firing shots to cover their retreat, turned towards Rick. "Go!" he yelled back, his eyes scanning the area for more threats.

"No!" Lunette protested, struggling against Rick's grip. "We can't leave him!"

"We have to go!" he insisted, his grip tightening to prevent her from jumping off the bus. "He'll be right behind us!"

Daryl fired a few more shots, then threw another smoke bomb to cover their retreat. "Go!" he yelled, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of gunfire and explosions.

Rick spun Lunette around by her shoulders, but she shrugged him off angrily. She was confused; just yesterday, he had demanded she leave, but now he seemed to care about her safety, and he was trying to save her.

One by one, they began to climb down the opposite side of the bus, using the wheels and exposed metal framework for support. Maggie went first, dropping to the ground and immediately taking a defensive stance to cover the rest of the group.

Next was Glenn, followed by Lunette, who winced as her feet hit the ground, fresh waves of pain radiating through her battered body. Rick was right behind her, his hand firmly on her shoulder, urging her forward.

And they ran.

•

Mira crouched behind a brick wall, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. The acrid smell of smoke and gunpowder filled her nostrils, and the sharp cracks of gunfire echoed around her, each shot making her flinch.

She glanced around frantically, searching for her father, but all she could see were the chaotic movements of people running, firing, screaming, and falling.

Merle and Martinez were beside her, both men focused and alert. Merle's eyes darted around, his jaw set in a determined line. Mira couldn't shake the unease she felt around him, even in the middle of the chaos. He had always been rough around the edges and unpredictable.

"What's goin' on? Where's my dad?" Mira's voice was shaky, her fear evident. "Merle!"

"I ain't seen him," Merle replied, not taking his eyes off the street ahead. "Listen, girl, ya gotta make a run for it. Get back home where it's safer."

"But I can't just leave—" she started, her voice rising with panic.

Merle cut her off, his tone sharp. "Ain't got time to argue. Ya head back home, I'll cover ya." He raised his rifle, ready to provide covering fire. "Go, now!"

Mira hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. The idea of running through the hail of bullets was terrifying, but staying put seemed just as dangerous. She looked at Merle, still distrustful of him. But despite his rough demeanor, there was something in his eyes that made her believe he meant what he said.

"I don't trust you," Mira muttered, but she knew she had little choice. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

"Ya don't have to," Merle replied gruffly. "Just run. Your daddy'll kill me if somethin' happens to ya."

"I very much doubt that." With one last, desperate glance around for her father, Mira gathered her courage and bolted from her cover.

Her legs pumped furiously as she sprinted down the street, her mind a blur of fear and adrenaline. Behind her, she could hear the rapid fire of Merle's rifle, the sound giving her a small measure of comfort that he was keeping his word.

Her heart pounded as she sprinted through the familiar streets toward her house. Her legs burned with exhaustion, but she kept going. As she neared the front gate, her breaths came in ragged gasps, her mind racing with worry for her father.

As she hurried inside the halls, she heard muffled voices coming from their home. She froze, her hand hovering over the doorknob.

She strained to listen, her senses on high alert. The voices grew louder, and she recognized her father's voice, tense and strained. And... scared.

"It's me you want. There's no need for her to suffer," her father's trembling voice pleaded.

Mira was puzzled. Who is he referring to? Could he be talkin' about me?

"She doesn't have any needs," a woman's voice replied, and Mira immediately recognized it to be Michonne. This only intensified her confusion.

"Please. Don't harm my little girl."

Well, that's definitely not about me.

Slowly, Mira pushed the door open, careful not to make a sound. She slipped inside, her heart hammering in her chest, and made her way towards her father's office where muffled voices drifted through the crack.

Peeking through the partially open door, she saw a scene that made her blood run cold.

Her father, hands raised in surrender. Facing him was Michonne, a small walker—no, not just any walker—Mira's baby sister Penny, held firmly by the back of the head with Michonne's sword poised against it.

Penny. Penny. Penny?

Mira's breath caught in her throat as she realized the truth. The walker Michonne held was Penny, her little sister.Tears sprang to Mira's eyes, and her heart felt like it might explode.

"What the fuck?" Mira whispered, her voice trembling with a flood of conflicting emotions.

Her father spun around, his face reflecting shock, disbelief, and an unmistakable hint of guilt. Mira stood there, her mouth agape, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her father had told her they buried Penny—hell, she even had a grave. Yet, all this time, Penny had been hidden in the same house, locked away behind the door Mira was forbidden to open.

The room around her only deepened her shock. It was lined with tanks, but instead of holding fish or other aquatic creatures, they were filled with severed heads of walkers.

What the fuck? What the fuck—what the actual fuck?

Mira's gaze darted back to her father, her lip quivering uncontrollably.

"She's been here all this time?" Mira's voice cracked, another tear tracing a path down her face.

Her father couldn't meet her eyes, staring blankly at the floor while Penny emitted faint, mournful moans, reaching out towards her sister.

Mira longed to rush to Penny, to hold her tight, to kiss her sweet forehead, to bring her back to life. But she knew such wishes were futile. That part of her life was gone, shattered forever.

Michonne's gaze shifted to Mira, acknowledging her presence with a fleeting glance that held no warmth or reassurance. It was a look that sent icy shivers down Mira's spine. There was no comfort to be found in her eyes.

She drove her sword through the back of Penny's head.

Mira gasped, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she watched the life drain from her sister's small form. Penny's body went limp, no longer moving, no longer a threat.

"No!" the Governor roared, charging at Michonne as she withdrew her sword. He tried to overpower her, but Michonne held her ground, pushing him back with her arms.

Mira took a staggering step back, her eyes flickering between Penny's lifeless body and the chaos unfolding before her. Her father landed a punch on Michonne, and she retaliated, shoving him over a nearby chair. Both crashed to the ground, grappling fiercely.

"Stop it!" Mira cried out, her voice breaking as sobs wracked her body.

Her father straddled Michonne, rage and desperation in his eyes as he began to choke her. Michonne, gasping for breath, grabbed her sword and swung it, striking the Governor on the head and sending him sprawling. She quickly got to her feet, delivering another kick that left his nose bleeding.

"Please, stop!" Mira pleaded, her hands covering her mouth as tears flowed uncontrollably.

She couldn't bear to see anyone else die. Penny was gone—her body was all that remained now. Her biter body.

Even though Michonne's actions hadn't brought her relief, she hoped Penny might finally find peace. Maybe now she could finally move on.

But there was no time for grief. Mira needed to act. Michonne had gained the upper hand, pinning her father down and choking him with her sword.

Her father managed to rise, shoving Michonne into the wall. Mira's eyes darted around the room, searching for something, anything, to help.

Philip broke free from Michonne's grasp, her striking him in the stomach before he bashed her head against the wall twice. Michonne resorted to biting down on his finger, causing him to drag her across the room and slam her head into one of the tanks containing biter heads.

Water spilled across the floor, and one of the severed heads rolled to Mira's feet. She kicked it away, trying not to look at its gaping, snapping jaws.

Michonne mustered her strength. She yanked at the tanks, causing them to topple and shatter on the floor. Philip dragged Michonne through the water, pinning her elbow dangerously close to the head Mira had just kicked. Michonne elbowed him fiercely, eliciting a pained cry from her father.

Then, Mira's father used his arm to strangle Michonne, her fingers desperately reaching out for her sword, just out of her grasp.

Mira knew she had to take action; someone's life was at stake.

Despite everything her father had done, she didn't want to see him die. She held a conflicting love for him, a love she wished she could erase but couldn't. Her gaze darted around the room once more, and she shifted nervously on her feet.

Michonne seized a piece of glass and drove it into her father's eye. He let out an agonized scream, instantly releasing his grip on her. Michonne snapped the shard in two, leaving one piece still embedded in the governor's eye.

At the same time, Mira had retrieved the gun her father had dropped, aiming it at the two people at her feet. Michonne rose and grabbed her sword, about to lunge at her father, momentarily forgetting Mira's presence.

"No!" Mira shouted, her voice cracking with desperation as she aimed the gun at Michonne and flicked off the safety with a sharp click.

But her action was mirrored by someone else—Andrea.

She appeared beside her, her own gun trained steadily on Michonne. Instantly, Michonne pivoted mid-swing, her sword now directed at Andrea while her eyes flicked back to Mira. Her gaze softened momentarily, remembering Mira's existence.

"What have you done?" Andrea whispered, shaking her head while keeping her gun trained on Michonne.

Michonne, in turn, held her sword at Andrea, slowly moving past her while the two maintained their weapons at the ready. They switched positions, with Michonne widening her eyes slightly in surprise—and perhaps betrayal—as she lowered her sword.

Andrea, on the other hand, only furrowed her brow in anger, not lowering her gun. Michonne then grabbed Mira's arm, turning around, ready to walk away. Mira had long lowered her weapon, her hand hanging limply at her side.

"Mira stays here," Andrea said firmly, her gaze unwavering as she kept her gun trained on Michonne.

"She can choose for her damn self," Michonne breathed out, her voice merely a furious whisper.

Mira's gaze darted between Andrea and Michonne, caught between the impulse to escape and the nagging feeling that remaining might be the safer option.

She glanced over at her father, who had crawled over to Penny's walker body, cradling it in his arms while tears streamed down his face.

When he caught Mira looking at him, his eyes blazed with anger and resentment.

That look was enough for Mira to make up her mind. She couldn't stay here with him—not after everything that had happened.

Mira took a step towards Michonne, her jaw clenched in determination. She glanced back at Andrea, who maintained her firm stance with the gun aimed at Michonne.

"I'm not stayin'," Mira stated, her voice wavering but resolute. "Not with him."

Andrea scoffed, her eyes still locked on Michonne. "You're making a mistake, Mira," she muttered, frustration evident in her tone. "That's your father."

Mira looked at her father, still cradling Penny's lifeless walker body, and felt a surge of anger and betrayal.

Philip Blake was many things. Manipulative, self-centered, violent, controlling. But a father was one thing he was not. Not anymore.

Now, he was simply the man who made Mira's life a living hell.

So, she decided.

"No, he isn't," she said icily, her eyes locking with Andrea's for a brief moment.

With those words hanging heavy in the air, Mira turned away from Andrea and faced Michonne. The woman nodded once, her expression unreadable but tinged with a hint of respect for Mira's decision.

Without another word, Michonne led the way out of the house.

•

"Get down!" Rick hissed, signaling urgently with his hand.

Lunette and Maggie crouched immediately, but Glenn simply dropped to the ground, grimacing in pain. Maggie reached out to him, but he shook his head, too pained to respond. Rick peered out from above the car, spotting a couple of men still standing guard.

They had just managed to slip out of Woodbury amidst the chaos and gunfire, finding temporary refuge behind a car parked along the street. With adrenaline fading, every step felt like an even worse battle against the pain that throbbed through Lunette's limbs.

"Come on, Daryl," Rick muttered under his breath, ducking back down behind the car's cover.

Gasping for breath, Lunette pressed her forehead against the cool metal. The sound of distant gunfire and shouting echoed through the deserted streets, a constant reminder of the danger lurking nearby. She heard Glenn moan in pain right behind her, undoubtedly in as much pain as she was, if not more.

Then, the sharp crack of twigs snapping in the underbrush behind them drew Lunette's attention. Her head whipped around, eyes scanning the shadows cast by the trees. The woman from before, accompanied by a teenage girl, emerged from the trees.

Rick sprang to his feet, pointing his gun at the woman, while Maggie did the same. The teenage girl, startled, stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a stray branch.

"Where the hell were you?" Rick snapped at the woman. "Put your hands up, both of you. Turn around."

The woman and the girl complied. The girl spun around quickly, her breath coming in fast, shallow bursts, her hands trembling. The woman was slower to turn around.

Rick patted them down, the younger girl flinching at each touch. He stopped in front of her, staring her down until she dropped her gaze, as if she recognized him.

"Thought she was just some teenager," Rick said mockingly, reaching into the girl's belt and pulling out her gun, his fingers tightening around it.

The woman shot him a glare. "She's a girl in need of help. I think you can give her that."

Rick's laughter was laced with sarcasm as he withdrew the woman's katana from its sheath, the metallic hiss of the blade echoing in the tense silence.

Lunette looked at the girl, who had created some distance between herself and the group. Her eyes were wide and distant, as though she had just seen a ghost. Maybe she had.

The woman leaned against the train carts, waiting expectantly as Rick lowered his gun.

"Get what you came for?" he asked her.

"Where are the rest of your people?" the woman shot back.

"They got Oscar," Glenn said through gritted teeth, his hand shaking as he kept his gun aimed despite his visible pain.

"Daryl's missin'," Maggie added, her eyes wide with fear. "You didn't see him?"

The woman shook her head. The girl kicked at a pebble by her boot, her eyes downcast. She felt the weight of everyone's gaze on her, almost wishing she had stayed home.

"If anything happens to him—" Rick began, his voice a threatening growl, but the woman cut him off abruptly.

"I brought you here to save them," she hissed.

Rick's head tilted slightly, a hint of a scoff threatening to escape his lips. "Thanks for the help," he replied, his voice laced with bitter irony.

"You'll need help to get them back to the prison," the woman retorted, nodding her head over at Glenn and Lunette, "or to go back in there for Daryl. Either way, you need me."

Rick's gaze shifted between the woman and the girl, his expression hardening with skepticism. He took a deep breath, trying to suppress his frustration.

After a few moments of the uneasy silence, Lunette shifted, turning her head slightly to glance at the woman. With a forced, but genuine smile, she muttered, "I like her."

Rick blinked, caught off guard by Lunette's comment. He looked back at the woman, who stood there with a defiant, if somewhat weary, expression.

"Fine."

✎ AUTHOR NOTES:

this was not proofread so pls inform and forgive me if you spot any mistakes!

also a reminder to PLEASE not be a silent reader! i really appreciate when people let me know what they liked or didn't like (in a respectful manner, please...)!