just in case you guys forgot what our favorite cockroach Spencie Poo looks like :)

A/N: Idk why but I STRUGGLED writing this chapter, hopefully, you can't tell 😅 but I hope you guys like it!!

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- Cass's POV -

I catch myself on my feet, stumbling forward into the infirmary, my chest heaving from the forceful shove that propelled me into the room.

"You're staying in here for now," Negan declares, his voice carrying a rough edge as he stands in the doorway, his gaze piercing and ice-cold.

Swallowing hard, I nod in acknowledgment, taking in the surroundings of the cramped infirmary. It may be tight quarters, but it's a damn improvement to my cell.

Turning to face Negan, I struggle to catch my breath, a mix of exertion and residual panic from the ongoing mass murder. "Negan, you need to prepare. If those soldiers die-"

"-They're not gonna die!" Negan bellows, the intensity of his words reverberating through the room. His booming voice forces me to flinch, closing my eyes momentarily.

"They're not gonna die because I have you." Negan declares, his words perplexing me. I open my eyes, meeting his intense gaze. "You're goin' to save them, or I'll make you watch as I slit Daryl's neck," Negan explains calmly, the threat hanging in the air. Panic seizes my chest in a suffocating grip, terror sending chills over my body at the prospect.

"Negan, I can't-" I begin with distress, but Negan dismissively shakes his head, shooting me one last look before turning on his heel, and pushing past Spencer in the doorway, His looming figure disappears into the dark hallway, yet his threat lingers, a heavy weight on my shoulders.

I step back, exhaling heavily in disbelief, my eyes wide with the weight of the ultimatum. I can't let Daryl die because of me.

Pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes, I turn around, the room spinning with the palpable tension of an impossible situation. I can't save them.

Inhaling quick shallow breaths, I try to work through the suffocating fog of helplessness that has settled over me. Each breath feels like a struggle against an invisible force, as if the air itself has thickened with the burden of the circumstances I've gotten myself into.

For fucks sake.

As my lungs continue to burn, a searing ache that matches my frantic heartbeat, my world suddenly tilts on its axis. My legs, betraying me, go weak beneath me, threatening to give way, making me sway clumsily.

Through the haze of my muffled hearing, a distant door slams shut, a sound both startling and oddly distant. Just as quickly as I felt the first wave of dizziness threatening to overwhelm me, firm hands suddenly catch my falling body with reassuring strength.

There's a persistent ringing in my ears as I blink away the disorienting tingling sensation that seems to corrupt every inch of my body.

"You alright?" a faded voice pulses through my hearing, making me let out a shuddering exhale as I struggle to answer.

There's something oddly familiar about the voice. About the hands around my torso, steadying me.

"Rick?" I question, my voice coming out a feeble croak, the fragile tendrils of hope curling painfully in my chest. He can't be here, can he?

Through my blurred vision, the figure who caught me freezes, before shaking his head. "No, Cass. It's me, Spence." His voice rumbles, breaking through the last bits of my fog of confusion. As my vision and hearing return to normal, I let out a long exhale, attempting to suppress the inexplicable twinge of disappointment that lingers deep within me.

"Right, of course," I reply hoarsely, my voice struggling to find its usual strength. Blinking rapidly, I take in my surroundings that momentarily blacked out, realizing with a mix of surprise and embarrassment that Spencer is alone with me in the infirmary, holding me.

"You fainted." Spencer tells me gently as he lets me go, helping me to my feet with a tenderness that echoes an eerie familiarity, similar to how Rick caught me yesterday.

"I gathered that," I respond with a breathless chuckle, running my hand over my face, hating the strange chilled sensation overcoming me.

Spencer is shaking his head with a frustrated huff, making confusion flutter through me. "I can't believe you didn't tell me. You're pregnant. And Negan is just letting you rot in there without food or water." Spencer rants, his words clipped with a palpable anger.

With an awkward cringe, I nod, feeling a weight of guilt settling in my chest. "Sorry for not telling you before. But I got myself into this mess, didn't I?" I offer, gingerly walking over to the side cabinet, where some untainted water bottles and a small container of prenatal vitamins are.

As I struggle to reach the higher shelf, Spencer briskly walks over to grab it for me, his jaw clenched with frustration as he effortlessly grabs them for me. "He's a monster," Spencer mutters under his breath as he passes the bottle and pills to me, making a smile quirk at my mouth.

"Yeah," I breathe heavily, cracking open the water bottle and popping a couple of vitamins. "That's kinda why we're tryna bring him down," I add, my cheeks heating as I catch Spencer's sympathetic expression.

It's not easy having the man I once despised seeing me this vulnerable. Especially with me mistaking him for Rick- God. So embarrassing.

Attempting to regain a semblance of composure, I climb onto the patient bed, crinkling the paper sheet. Hopefully after some water and sitting down, I'll start to feel better.

"Is it-" Spencer begins, his gaze darting down to my abdomen, but I shoot him a look that makes him stop.

"I don't know," I mutter, averting my eyes and focusing on my pale hands, my stomach twisting just being reminded of all of it. Sometimes I forget that I'm pregnant when the baby simply exists, and sometimes the baby decides that it wants to make its existence very much known and I'm forced to remember.

Little shit.

"Here," Spencer says abruptly, interrupting the heavy silence and making me look up to see him handing me what seems to be a chocolate protein bar. Instinctively, I shake my head, but before I can protest, he grabs my hand, and firmly places the bar into it.

"Eat." he orders, his expression devoid of patience as he stares at me expectantly. Reluctantly, I nod, tearing open the aluminum wrapper, my stomach grumbling.

As I take a bite, I glance back to see Spencer nodding, seeming relieved. A strange feeling of emotion pangs at me that my well-being matters so much to him.

Aching to shift the conversation, I speak up. "So, you and Louise framed that guard?" I ask, my words muffled by the food in my mouth, earning a sigh from Spencer as he tilts his head to the side.

That same cold, unfeeling look from before flashes across his expression as he nods in confirmation. "James. He was known for being a creep- hurst some of the women here. It was a happy accident that he was the working guard that night. It all... worked out," Spencer explains simply with a shrug, his hazel eyes watching carefully as I continue to eat.

In the dim light of the infirmary, I can't help but notice now that his hazel is slightly more brown than Negan's. A softer hazel. As I stare back at Spencer, a thought, one that had been in the back of my mind since I found out he lied, pops back into the forefront of my thoughts.

"What did you really do before all this, Spencer?" I ask, making him pause, his eyes darting up to meet mine, the surprise clear in his eyes.

He seems taken aback by my question. "Come on. I know you didn't work at a damn lab. It was a cover. So really, what did you do?" I press further, making Spencer reluctantly nod, looking down as a faraway look flashes behind his eyes.

"I was a marine before getting recruited to move on to be a gun for hire," Spencer explains, his voice lowered as he looks into space for a moment, the weight of his past evident in his expression.

"Y-You were an assassin?" I blurt out, shock widening my eyes. Spencer's response is a wry smile, and he shakes his head with a hint of amusement.

"Something like that," he replies, meeting my gaze again. Suddenly, my disbelief transforms into a reluctant understanding. I don't feel like such an idiot for believing him before.

"Well, that explains a lot," I mutter, feeling a strange mix of awe and apprehension. My unease and former horrible feeling fade away, probably aided by me finishing the protein bar.

"Again, I know no words-" Spencer starts, but he cuts himself off with a heavy sigh. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he takes a moment before continuing. "I'm so sorry. For everything." His hand drops, and he locks eyes with me, sincerity etched across his face.

"I let my jealousy and fucked up feelings take over. And nothing I can say can make it better, but please know I am doing everything I can to make it up to you," Spencer assures me, the dark hazel of his eyes reflecting a genuine commitment to redemption.

Lowering the empty protein bar wrapper, I meet his sincere gaze with one of my own.

He was the reason Phillip was able to destroy the prison. The reason Judith and I were left alone for a month. The reason Carl went through horrific shit, and the reason Bob and Hershel lost their lives.

But it's also because of him that we found Alexandria. Carl found Enid. Rick and I finally had the situation that pushed us together. We discovered a place where we could truly live.

He's the reason I've been able to do everything that Louise and I planned. Spencer has been putting his life at risk every day, without a complaint.

And he's here now, risking it again, to make sure a pathetic pregnant lady won't collapse again.

As my eyes drift up to meet his, I let out a slow exhale. "I... forgive you." I breathe, not quite believing that I'm saying it, but knowing that it is genuinely how I feel.

After all he's done or me, I can't keep that grude. Not anymore.

Spencer blinks at me, his wide with surprise. "You don't have to-" he begins, shaking his head.

"-It's the truth. Help me protect Daryl, Georgia, and Louise- get us all out of here alive, and maybe I'll begin to like you again too," I add, a small but sincere smile playing on my lips, hoping to lighten the heavy mood.

Spencer studies me for a moment, his eyes betraying a subtle mix of surprise and gratitude, even though he tries to hide it. After a beat, he nods, his gaze momentarily dropping.

A strange sense of liberation washes over me, realizing that I now have one less enemy to deal with. I watch as Spenccer's eyes drift to the clock on the far wall with a cringe before meeting my gaze.

"You have my word. But I need to get going before they notice." Spencer tells me, his voice laced with regret.

Nodding with understanding, I rise from my seat to toss out the wrapper, discreetly hiding any evidence of his kindness.

"I'll see you later," Spencer says, his hand on the door handle, looking back at me. And I can tell from the look in his eyes that it's not a goodbye but a promise.

I return the nod, and as he leaves, my stomach tightens into a series of knots.

During the hours that follow, confined within the solitude of the infirmary, I attempt to regain normalcy by immersing myself in the task of retrieving supplies. Most importantly, antibiotics. Ones that Negan will want me to give his soldiers, even though they will do absolutely nothing to help them.

I grip the medication bottles, staring down at them in my hands, fully aware of their inefficacy, a bitter awareness that pains me. In a world where resources are scarce, especially medicine, just wasting them like this is difficult, to say the least.

Turning to the left, I catch a fleeting glimpse of my reflection in a small mirror on the counter, momentarily captivated by it.

It's been a while since I've seen my reflection. Since I've seen myself.

A wave of disgust unfurls within me, fueled by the paleness of my skin, the gauntness etched into my features, and the dulled, lackluster quality of my hair. Not to mention the layer of grime stubbornly clinging to my limbs and dress. My pitiful expression in the mirror only intensifies my self-loathing.

Glancing lower, I shift my focus past my dirt-covered arms, and ptififul expression, down to my abdomen.

Tilting my head to the side, I move my hand slowly downward, smoothing the fabric of my dress to determine the shape beneath. A sense of dread settles in my chest at the absence of a significant bump. There's a slight curve to it, but not as big as I was hoping.

I found out I was pregnant a month ago. And if that was just after I got pregnant, it makes sense that there wouldn't be a noticeable bump yet. But as I wish the case was... if I got pregnant before- with Rick- it would have to be at least four months old.

And this isn't the bump of a four-month-long pregnancy.

Closing my eyes, I duck my head, seeking support from the cold countertop as a mixture of fear and uncertainty grips my insides. A myriad of explanations flood my mind, each one a desperate attempt to grasp the possibility that this baby could be Rick's.

The baby could be smaller from a lack of proper nutrients, or it could be sitting further back, or it's just because it's my first pregnancy and my muscles haven't loosened as much yet.

It could still be Rick's... right?

However, my fleeting moment of self-soothing is abruptly shattered by the resounding slam of the door behind me- a sound I've been dreading all day.

Turning around, my stomach plummets at the sight of Derek, Negan's young son, being carried in by Louise and his nanny I briefly met. Shock throttles through me, my eyes widening as I lurch forward to help them bring the boy in.

Derek looks alarmingly frail- his skin pale, his hairline drenched with sweat, and he's slumped over like he's too weak to stand on his own. They have to hold the small child by either arm to keep him up.

"O-Oh, my god! What happened?" I demand with a mix of wild concern and guilt, moving swiftly to help him onto the patient bed. As I support him, a wave of worry crashes over me, threatening to drown my senses.

This can't be because of me please please tell me this isn't because of me.

"It must be that flu," Louise breathes, her voice shaking, making me turn to look at her equally panicked expression. My mind races, grappling with the disbelief that this could be happening- especially to a child.

That water was reserved for the soldiers, not him.

I gently lay the boy down on the bed, crinkling the thin paper lining it. Panic threatens to consume me, but I force myself to focus, rapidly searching his small body for any signs of another injury. Placing my fingers on his little neck, I feel for a pulse, and I'm reassured when I detect its steady, strong rhythm. I don't need a thermometer to confirm what I already suspect- just resting my hand on his forehead tells me that he has a raging fever.

Turning around in a haze of panic, I instinctively reach for a washcloth, running it under cool water to soothe the heat radiating from the boy's fevered skin. As my fingers leave the towel, I look up to meet his nanny's gaze. Her tear-filled eyes are fixed on Derek, her expression a mirror of my distress.

"What has he eaten and drank in the past 24 hours?" I ask her, my gaze boring into hers desperately.

She meets my gaze, blinking wordlessly with panic. "Tell her, Susan!" Louise urges angrily, making the nanny, Susan, flinch, before nodding.

"M-Marty made him some mac-n-cheese, then he had some animal crackers and juice," Susan stutters out, her eyes wide.

I exhale, clenching my eyes shut. "Did he have any water?" I ask, trying to keep my voice level despite the storm of worry brewing within me.

Susan thinks for a moment. "Only a glass," she breathes, making me meet her gaze, setting my lips in a firm line.

"I need you to tell me where that water came from," I tell her evenly, my heart throbbing against my ribcage wildly.

Susan looks down for half a second before meeting my gaze. "From the water tank. We get pitchers of the water from there," She explains, and it takes everything in me to not slump over in crushing relief.

He's not poisoned.

"Okay," I breathe, somewhat calming myself down enough. I carefully lift his long sleeves and check his abdomen, looking for any bites or rashes.

As I gently press down, Derek grunts with pain in his daze, making me pause. With my heart in my throat, I conduct an abdomen test, methodically pressing various parts of his torso. The only response he gives is a wince of pain around his stomach and intestinal area.

"What other symptoms has he had?" I ask, looking up at the nanny.

"He threw up and had some diarrhea earlier," Susan explains, twisting her hands nervously.

Putting his symptoms together, I let out a small sigh of relief. It's just an upset stomach. Has to be. Maybe the juice he had was expired or had sat out too long. Or it's just a badly timed stomach bug.

"Okay, I don't think this is anything serious. I'm going to give him something for his fever and keep him here for observation," I let them know, making Susan blink at me in bewilderment, worry etched on her expression.

"But- But what about the flu?" Susan asks, her wide eyes darting between me and Derek.

Glancing once at Louise's calmed expression, I lock eyes with Susan. "He doesn't have their symptoms. Just trust me- it's something different. But worst case, if he does have it, he'll be better off here than with them," I explain carefully, and Susan, though still visibly worried, nods in understanding.

I administer some meds to bring Derek's temp down, taking note of every change in his vitals. As the unconscious boy seems to finally relax, I find myself able to exhale, the tension in the room momentarily lifting.

Gently brushing Derek's blonde hair from his sleeping face, a pang of empathy courses through me for the small boy. His immune system must be fucked from growing up in a place like this.

He never even goes outside, poor thing.

When I'm done checking Derek, I glance over to see Louise watching carefully, her arms crossed in a protective stance, while Susan is in the back, sitting down with her head in her hands.

"Does he know?" I ask Louise quietly, my voice a mere whisper that cuts through the tense air. My eyes scrutinize her expression, searching for any hint of confirmation. If Negan knows about Derek, I need to make sure that he doesn't take it out on Daryl. Fortunately, unlike his soldiers, I can make Derek better.

Louise meets my searching gaze with a nod of confirmation, making my stomach flip. Nudging my head subtly, I encourage Louise over, casting a worried glance at the nanny, who's still sitting down, not looking in our direction.

"You okay?" Louise asks quickly, her voice a hushed whisper, her eyes wild as they flit up and down my dirty figure.

I force a quick smile and nod, my stomach flipping. "I got to see him," I whisper, my heart aching as I say it. Lousie searches my gaze with confusion for a second before her eyes widen with realization.

"How was he?" she asks hopefully, glancing over her shoulder before focusing back on me, her eyebrows turned up in the middle.

The memory of seeing Rick only momentarily flashes behind my eyes, making a lump lodge itself in my throat. Pushing through it, I take a deep breath, forcing a smile. "He seemed good. I got to tell him that I was okay," I whisper, blinking past my stinging tears.

Louise smiles sympathetically at me, her eyes wavering with emotion. "We're gettin' out. It's happening Cass... your plan- you're brilliant," she breathes, making me look down with a shake of my head, the stress of the situation flitting through me despite her words of encouragement.

"They took Daryl, again. A-And Negan said he might kill him if I don't-" My frantic words stumble over each other, halted abruptly as Louise seizes my shoulders, her grip firm, compelling my eyes to meet hers.

"I know. Spence told me," Louise says quickly, her eyes boring into mine with determination. "We're not gonna let that happen. I'm not gonna let that happen," Louise assures, making me swallow thickly, absorbing her words.

"We have a plan," Louise declares, flashing me a quick smile before in a split second, she's off me with an impassive expression as the door bursts open. Negan charges in, his presence commanding the room's attention.

I step back instinctively as he rushes to Derek's side, his eyes wide. The rare sight of Negan visibly panicking takes me by surprise as his eyes fly across his son's feeble frame.

I've never seen them together, let alone like this.

Attempting to reassure him, I stammer, "He's okay," as Negan turns his gaze on me, a tumult of emotion raging behind his eyes. Panic grips me as his towering figure advances, his expression hardening, and I stagger back involuntarily.

"He's okay, Negan," I repeat, my voice shaking with fear. The room seems to contract with tension, the air heavy with the unspoken threat hanging between us.

Anticipating a violent reaction, I flinch, bracing for impact, fully expecting to be hit, slammed to the ground, or worse. However, to my surprise, Negan engulfs me in a tight, almost desperate embrace, pulling me close.

Frozen in his arms, I blink with confusion, not understanding what's happening.

"Please save him," Negan's trembling voice rasps beside my ear, the vulnerability in his words sending a paralyzing confusion through me.

"I-I will," I respond, blinking through the bewilderment, my commitment tinged with an unexpected empathy for the man who, moments ago, I loathed fully.

Negan pulls away, his expression contorted with clear worry. If I thought he was worn down earlier today, it has no comparison to him now. His hair is even more disheveled, his under eyes sunken, and his worried expression aging him.

"How are others? I haven't been-" I begin, glancing at the antibiotics on the side table, but my gaze snaps back to him as Negan cuts me off, the urgency in his voice palpable.

"They're getting worse. Do anything you can. You remember what I told you before," Negan asserts, his once commanding voice now edged with a hard determination, dread flicking through me and the reminder of his threat.

Looking back up into his hazel eyes, I nod in confirmation, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on my shoulders. Wild nerves twist my intestines as I steel myself for the monumental task ahead.

Brushing past him, I move with purpose, my hands reaching for the array of antibiotics on the nearby side table. The vials and bottles glint in the dim light, a stark contrast to the grim reality they represent. The reality that they're no better than a placebo.

I spare Louise one last look, our eyes locking for a fleeting moment before I'm escorted out by the guards.

We navigate through the confined halls, the air thick with tension. The weight of the countless lives depending on my actions presses down on me, each step a reminder of the staggering responsibility I now bear.

As I step into the chaos of the makeshift hospital in the main room, the sight of even more dying soldiers hits me like a visceral blow. They're scattered around the factory floor, some having to lay on the stairs on the side for more room.

The stench in the room is unbelievable, aided by the rotting corpse of the 'mole' they've left up on the ceiling.

The urgency in Negan's words echoes in my mind as I brace myself for the overwhelming and impossible task of tending to the sick who will not get better, no matter what I do.

The weight of guilt bears down on me as I move from one bed to another, offering what little solace I can to those trapped in the throes of total organ failure. The whispered prayers and labored breaths create a symphony of desperation that hits me to my core.

It's a sound I know I won't ever forget.

The only thing that slightly calms my raging guilt is the fact that amongst the antibiotics, I put in various sleeping and pain pills, to hopefully put them out of their misery. It won't be enough to really help, but it's something.

As I move through them, distributing medicine, they remain oblivious- unaware that the very hands providing them care are the hands that put them here.

___

- Rick's POV -

"I'm going." Carl argues, his piercing blue eye boring into mine defiantly, his brow firmly set with determination.

Exhaling slowly, I place my hands on the table, attempting to regain composure. "No, Carl, you're not." I declare calmly, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve.

Carl scoffs, casting a fleeting glance around the crowded room, seeking support from the others- Nathan, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie, Tyreese, Aaron, Eric, Rosita, Jesus, Sasha, and Carol. Their sympathetic looks convey an understanding, but not necessarily agreement.

"Look, Carl. I gave in and let Sophia come with us to search for Cass, and now she's traumatized. She or you could've been the ones Negan picked, you almost were." I explain,  seeming reasonable enough to myself, but Carl just shakes his head stubbornly.

"No, Cass told me that Negan doesn't hurt kids. That's why he just brought me back. If I'm there-"

"-No. That's final." I interrupt sternly, the fierce beat of my heart resounding in my ears, fueled by unwavering parental determination.

With what we have planned... there's no way in hell I'm letting him anywhere near it. I need him back here, safe.

"Come on, kiddo. Listen to your dad," Nathan implores softly, his kind and persuading voice seemingly reaching Carl, who lowers his gaze and shakes his head in reluctant acceptance.

"Remember the dry run? So many of us were gone, if you, Carol, Morgan, and Aaron weren't here, things could've been a lot worse." Tyreese points out, making Carl slowly look up at him.

I raise my eyebrows and nod in agreement, appreciating him speaking up. "Exactly. They could go after us while we're there. Like Gareth did. Please, promise me you'll stay here with Judith, Maggie, and Tyreese. Make sure they're okay." I plead with my son, who finally reluctantly looks at me and then slowly nods.

I heave a sigh of relief, my shoulders easing as the weight of at least one concern lifts. "Good. Thank you," I murmur, rubbing my temples.

With that dealt with, the rest of us delve back into the plan. As I listen to everyone going over their assigned roles, a sense of reassurance begins to settle within me.

Finally, we're making progress to free them-Cass, Louise, and Daryl. The mere thought feels almost surreal, too good to be true.

We're going to have them back.

My wife, my sister, and my brother.

The thought is almost too good to be true, too overwhelming to comprehend that it's really happening.

Yet, the line of waiting cars and trucks, each equipped with metal slab reinforcements, the recently smuggled guns, and the hushed discussions among my family members are evidence enough. Seeing Cass, catching that fleeting moment where I saw that she was alive and fighting in there, only strengthens my determination.

It also makes me realize she was likely right and not just being stubborn when she told us not to go after her. But she doesn't know about our alliance with the Hilltop, with the Kingdom. She has no idea about the lengths I've gone to over here to ensure her rescue. The plans we've made.

The Sanctuary is practically a fortress, I know that. Daryl said before how many people they have, but I couldn't care less about the odds being stacked against us. The only thing that matters is the burning desire to rescue the woman I love, my sister, and my brother from that asshole.

Knowing that because Cass tried to get a note to me, she and Daryl are shut in horrible cells, only fuels that determination to get them back.

Sooner than I expected, it's go-time. We can't afford to lose the precious daylight that's already weaning on the horizon. I've already hugged Judith and Carl goodbye, and once again, I make the latter promise to stay put.

"Me and Tyreese will take care of them, don't worry. Just get them back," Maggie reassures me, a warm smile gracing her face as her hand gently rests on her pregnancy bump.

"Thank you. I'll take care of Glenn," I reply with a grin, briefly hugging her, strong appreciation for her going through me. She simply laughs in response, patting my back.

With a final wave and a pointed look sent at Carl, I stride out the door, the determined footsteps of my family echoing behind me as we embark on the rescue mission.

En route to the Sanctuary, riding in the RV soon to be transformed into a battering ram, I sit just behind the driver's seat, my gaze fixed on my tightly clasped hands.

There's a strange amalgamation of worry, impatience, and anticipation that consumes me. I just want to get them back. Yet, the nagging worry tugs at me that I'm making a mistake like I did when I went to the college instead when looking for Cass.

But I can't take it anymore. I can't. I need to get that fucking bastard and kill him for what he's done to my family.

You can do this. You will do this.

"I give you my blessing," a sudden voice interrupts my chaotic thoughts, pulling me from my internal turmoil. I still, turning my head to the side with furrowed brows. Nathan sits beside me, his gaze unwavering, a warm smile playing on his lips.

"I know- you already proposed, but I wanted you to know that you've done more for my daughter in the three days that I've known you than all of her past guys combined," Nathan tells me, making me swallow thickly, looking down with a nod.

I hate that he keeps praising me. When really, I've failed his daughter.

"And you're too damn humble to see it," Nathan mutters, letting out a chuckle of amazement. His laughter only deepens my guilt and I sigh, shaking my head.

His warm gaze lingers on me, and I can sense the sincerity in his eyes. It's a blend of gratitude and understanding as if he recognizes the genuine intentions that drove my actions. Yet, the self-doubt persists, gnawing at the edges of my consciousness.

Nathan's hand gently pats my back, a comforting gesture meant to ease the tension that envelops me. "You're a good man, and you love my daughter. That's more than enough," he assures me, his words carrying a reassurance that momentarily lifts the weight off my shoulders.

As I meet Nathan's eyes once again, I can't help but appreciate the depth of his understanding. His blessing, though given freely, feels like a burden I'm still not sure I deserve. The task ahead is daunting, and I can't shake the feeling that I still have much to prove, not only to Nathan but to myself.

"We're going to get her back, I promise you," I assure Nathan hoarsely, staring back into the same green eyes of his daughter. The eyes I will see again.

Nathan's expression crinkles with warmth as he grins back at me, his hand gripped on the rifle in his hands.

"Damn right we are, son."

___

- Cass's POV -

The rest of the day was brutal, tirelessly handing out antibiotics and painkillers to the dying soldiers, their weakened states fading with each passing hour.

Eventually, I gave out the last dose of useless antibiotics, and with a heavy heart, I was swiftly ushered back into my cell. This time, not even the relative comfort of the infirmary was waiting for me. Apparently, Derek had recovered since I was gone, and Negan felt like I was 'no longer needed'

Curled up in the cleanest corner of my confined cell, I find myself enveloped in agonizing silence. The stark reality of my situation looms over me, unanswered questions gnawing at my mind at what's going on outside this stupid fucking cell.

How the soldiers are doing, whatever plan Louise and Spence have up their sleeves, and what Rick is up to haunt my thoughts. The oppressive weight of the unknown presses on me, intensifying the tension in the stagnant air of my cell.

With my gaze fixed on the grim, decaying walls, my mind becomes a whirl of restless questioning, spiraling into a labyrinth of anxiety. The toll of the day's stress and the lingering lack of sleep from the night before take their toll, coaxing me into the arms of exhaustion.

Eventually, I surrender to the fitful embrace of sleep, seeking refuge in the temporary escape that sleep offers from the desolation of my reality.

I'm not sure how long I'm out, but at some point, I'm awoken by a strange and loud noise. The abruptness startles me, causing the back of my skull to collide with the coarse, cold cinder brick walls of my cell.

I curse, immediately soothing the throbbing pain with my hand as I clamber to my feet. Furrowing my brows tightly with deep confusion, I strain my ears in an attempt to decipher the source of the dull, constant sound that begins to permeate the air, gradually intensifying.

A disconcerting sensation tightens my stomach as an uneasy feeling settles over me, standing alone in the pitch darkness with my chest heaving.

Wha-

Before I can finish my thought, a sudden burst of rapid gunfire erupts, echoing distantly through the corridors. My heart lurches, its aggressive rhythm slamming against my ribcage. I lean against the cold metal door of my cell, desperately attempting to discern the chaos unfolding beyond, straining my senses to capture every nuance of the alarming sounds that pierce the ominous silence.

The chill of the door seeps into my skin, accentuating the anxious trembling that courses through me.

Clenching my jaw in a desperate attempt to get over it so I can hear better, I stay rooted by the door. The rapid gunfire increases in uneven intervals, some bursts sounding closer while others are faded.

As the cacophony draws nearer, a grim realization settles in my mind. The dull sound from before is the unmistakable sound of walkers. Their dead, lazy groans and moans blend with the eerie shuffling of their footsteps.

The sound that I realize, sending an icy chill down my spine, is getting closer.

Straining my ears, I begin to hear the screams intermingled with the guttural moans of the undead, the rapid gunfire becoming an unsettling rhythmic backdrop.

Panic seizes me, adrenaline coursing my veins, and I can't help but call out to Daryl, knowing the guards, if they're still here, won't care. "Daryl!" I shout, cringing at the way my voice echoes in my small room, probably barely even getting to him.

But, distant over the sounds of chaos erupting, I hear Daryl call my name back, making me sigh with relief. He's okay.

"We need to get out of here!" I shout desperately before turning in a helpless circle, anxiety and adrenaline prickling at the corners of my awareness. I meticulously survey the confines of the disgusting cell, a surge of desperation compelling me to find a way out.

If this is really happening- if the Saviors are going down- I need to get out to help my people. I need to make sure the other wives, most of them unable to fight, are okay. That Derek, the small child, won't be hurt.

Whether it's Louise and the wives, Spencer, or even Rick and the rest of my family, my place is with them, not confined within the suffocating walls of this cell.

After an agonizing amount of time of fruitless attempts to find an exit, frustration boils over, and I curse loudly before swiftly kicking the nearby wall in a surge of anger. The echoes of my resentment reverberate in the enclosed space, a manifestation of the mounting frustration and helplessness that grips me.

The bitter irony isn't lost on me that I've done so much to try to get this to happen. To be able to watch this fucking place go down while making sure I can save my people.

And here I am, stuck in this stupid fucking cage.

The sounds are getting louder, amplifying my anxiety. The sounds seem like they could be coming right from outside of my door, this relentless banging and crashing, filling me with suffocating dread.

What has been the solid bar of light under the door to my cell, suddenly changes, with multiple shadows moving in front of it, instilling terror into my veins.

I stumble backward, fear coursing through me as the prospect of being shut in this tiny room without escape while what sounds to be a hoard of walkers are right outside my door. My chest is heaving as I look around the cell once again, despite knowing there's nothing here for me to use as a weapon.

It's been a while since the mere thought of walkers terrified me, but I was never in this situation before. Alone, with no weapons. The old dread of encountering the decaying corpses resurfaces, reminiscent of the early days.

Looking back at the door, I gulp. It's not like they can get in, right?

Just as the thought crosses my mind, the door is forcefully thrown open, prompting me to jump back with a startled cry. My eyes widen, and my heart threatens to burst from my chest.

A wave of suffocating relief surges through me at the sight of the familiar figures standing in my doorway. Spencer and Louise, are both visibly exhausted and covered in what looks like ash and walker blood.

Louise, no longer clad in her elegant cocktail dress, is wearing loose jeans and a flannel shirt, her grip firm on an axe that's stained with blood. Her wide eyes and a grinning mouth reveal both excitement and exhaustion, her chest heaving in sync with mine.

"Come on, princess. We've got a Sanctuary to burn down," she declares, her voice rough and slightly hoarse, the relief on her face betraying any underlying fear.

Stepping forward, Spencer hands me a handgun, the cool metal settling into my palm, his eyes locking onto mine. My chest rises and falls with amazement as I manage a grateful smile while gripping the weapon.

Strong appreciation for the pair surges through me for a moment, feeling extremely relieved that they were the people I was shut in this hellhole with.

Before I can say something about turning around and getting Daryl in the other cell, or begin to ask them how they managed to create such insane chaos, Spencer beats me to it. He spares a glance at Louise before looking at me again, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. His next words send my stomach plummeting, the world around me momentarily reeling.

"Looks like your husband is here."

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A/N: shit has -officially- gone down! I have a feeling you guys are gonna like the next couple of chapters... hehe

Also, a little announcement for anyone who doesn't have my tiktok- I'll be releasing a little AU of this fanfic soon!! (meaning Rick and Cass again bc I'm too attached to them) It's a small town, non-apocalyptic AU, inspired by the movie Safe Haven

Rick is a single dad of 12-year-old Carl and 6-year-old Judith, Lori still passed in childbirth. Cass is the new doctor in town, working at the Greene family doctor's office who happens to be renting out the upstairs of Rick's garage 🤭

It will be a cute rom-com, forced proximity, mutual pining, and soft but spicy AU that I can't stop thinking about! So keep an eye out! Don't worry though, this book is still my priority 🫶