Author's Notes:

Just wanted to thank my followers, I appreciate the support and I've really enjoyed writing this fanfic series. There's much to look forward to, and I also wanted to let ya'll know I've updated the previous chapters: added some detail, cleaned it up a bit more.

Anyway, I think you'll like this chapter, and I hope I'm right about that.

Please, enjoy :)

3

When the Rain Comes

The fall chill had quickly disintegrated as the day passed noon; although, it was brisk enough to welcome the long sleeves that kept Michonne's skin warm. She knew the weather was going to flip at some point, the way a faint scent of rain lingered in the air. It was barely legible, but it was there as much as the tint of gunpowder from the shot. Somewhere in the loose soil was the bullet, bloodied after ripping through Daryl's flesh; buried under a layer of red like the leaves, the sticks, the grass, the dirt. Michonne's eyes streamed across the soil, gazing at Daryl who persisted motionless; she hated seeing him like this. It was hard keeping herself from calling to her friend, hoping she could at least get some movement from the archer; unfortunately, the Saviors weren't too fond of that. Most of them had eventually joined by the fire, while others scouted the outskirts and occasionally came by to be sure the Alexandrians were in their spots. Not that it mattered, considering how close they were to the fire; the whole conversation was on them, they were endlessly being watched, and they barely caught a chance to whisper to each other.

The four of them kept their heads down, steadily breathing as they attempted communicating few words. But when a walkie-talkie sounded, Michonne heard Dwight speak, "Hey, Leya, where are you guys?" Gingerly glancing passed Glenn, Michonne spotted the Savior; lightly pacing near the fire, awaiting for some response.

As she gazed back down at the earth, Michonne ran her finger along the rough rope fibers that bound her. She yanked at it, but it only made her scowl as the bristles caught on her skin. "What do we do?" It was Glenn who suddenly uttered before static silenced them.

"There's not much we can do," Rosita whispered as their attention shifted to the muffled voice over the walkie. Squinting her eyes from the bright sun, Michonne tried listening; they all did, but there was no luck, just whatever Dwight returned.

"Yeah, we're just off our route," Dwight muttered into the walkie as he lowered onto a log. "We picked up some stragglers from Alexandria. Can you bring the truck, we don't have any other way to transport them." The three dipped their heads as a Savior patrolled by, but when she passed, Michonne continued feeling behind her; there had to be a rock or something, but all she felt between her fingers was moist dirt. "Yeah, but why don't we discuss it more when you get out here? Alright, see you soon," the Savior finished, signing off the walkie.

A defeating sigh from Glenn forced Michonne's eyes on him. He had them shut and his head was facing the ground. "We just have to wait for our chance," she tried reassuring; they'd been through worse, maybe they could handle this. Of course, a maybe that seemed like a far enough dream, even for her.

"Are they coming?" A female voice suddenly distracted them.

"Yeah, they are," Dwight murmured as he got to his feet, "and I got some ideas to share when they get here." Those words almost made Michonne cringe.

Sneaking across the sky, the darkness painstakingly approached. The day was inching cooler as the storm progressed their way. Glenn just wished it was here already; they'd all been sitting there for what felt like hours, with nothing to do than waiting and watching their friend slowly bleed. Only a few times had Daryl at least duly blinked, but that was it. In the time that they had, Glenn considered asking Dwight if he could go help the archer. That'd be a long shot, though. Glenn knew that, but the truth was that this Savior could have delivered a kill shot. And maybe, Dwight shot Daryl a little more critically than he had intended, but the hunter definitely wasn't dead… not yet, at least. There was a reason they didn't kill Daryl; like Dwight had said, he just needed the Alexandrian to stay down. Nevertheless, with Glenn's knowledge of the duo's hostile chemistry, he knew Dwight was only taking pleasure in Daryl's mutilation.

That was the hard part, knowing Dwight could walk away from shooting somebody with a grin plastering his face. For now, though, he was sitting on a log by the fire, trying to entertain himself by carving up a piece of wood. The other Saviors were off in a same manner; attempting to find anything, even a walker just to keep busy. It was quiet too, besides the hissing fire, an occasional twig snapping, and dead leaves rustling around by shoes. Regrettably, Glenn took that time to finally muster, "Dwight." Immediately he received wide-eyed looks from Rosita and Michonne.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rosita quietly snapped, as some Saviors glared their way.

"Dwight," Glenn called again, which had Saviors arming with their guns. But as they started towards the three, Dwight irritatedly set down his artwork and got up.

Gripping his knife's handle, he raised a free hand to his people, signaling them to stand down. "You got a fucking problem?" Dwight hissed, stopping in front of Glenn. "Was I not clear that I will slice your friend up if I hear disapproving words?"

Swallowing, Glenn cautiously spoke, hoping he'd convince Dwight enough to avoid that. "Just listen, okay?" Glenn began, but Dwight turned away, uninterested. "Dwight!" Having to bite his tongue, Glenn nearly threw his words bitterly, "Come on, let one of us just go over there and help Daryl."

Dwight stopped and rotated with a laugh, which the humor spread like a wild fire among the Saviors. "Now, why the hell would I do that." Once gazing over at the bloodied archer, Dwight snorted harshly, "Nah, I'd rather see him suffer." Boredly, Dwight twirled his knife in his hands, walking away.

Those words painfully pierced Glenn's ears, and it just made him more pissed by the second. "You were a foot behind him." Glenn suddenly heard Michonne act in support, even though they got a furious mumble from Rosita. "You could have easily killed him, but you didn't. So there's a reason why he's alive, but what point does it do if he bleeds out."

He just stood there, Dwight glaring at them with pity as he parted his mouth with a huff. "Are you stupid? He won't bleed out," the Savior exaggerated before admiring his knife. "But, I guess I could speed up the process." In horror, the trio watched Dwight smirk as he advanced towards Daryl.

"No," Glenn croaked, "no, don't."

The hunter was still unconscious as Dwight fell to a knee in front of him. "Why don't we take a looksy, see what we got here," he taunted, grabbing Daryl's shoulder and pulling back the collar of his shirt; the knife still carelessly dangling in Dwight's hand. A grimace started flooding Glenn's face as Daryl vaguely winced… What had he done?

"Dwight, you don't have to do this," Michonne tried persuading urgently as the bullet hole grew exposed.

"Well, you see, there's a difference between having to do so and wanting to do so." Dwight stated without changing where his eyes were turned, pondering with, "Hmm, seems like I did clip him a little worse than I had intended."

With a twitching lip, Glenn was about to spit right back. The wound was clearly closer to Daryl's chest rather than shoulder. "You're sick," Rosita said, beating Glenn to it.

"That's what it is now, girl," he casually responded. He then angled the knife point towards the center of the injury, tipping, "This isn't going to be very pleasant."

"No!" Glenn, Rosita, and Michonne chorused in a panic, as few drops of rain began to fall.

"Dwight." A female voice unexpectedly called, making Glenn glance over his right shoulder. In the near distance, an African American woman was headed their way with several other Saviors. All attention was on them as they stopped at the camp, but this woman continued forward. "What the hell are you doing? These people belong to Negan now, it's not our call to kill them," she said, laying her hands on her hips.

Glenn could feel his heart nearly pounding out of his chest and the blood rushing to his ears. "We don't belong to any of you," Rosita input with a bit of fire. It forced a doubtful sigh from Glenn as he shook his head.

"Leya, they're asking for it," Dwight spat, gazing at them with snake eyes.

"Shut up," the lady returned to Dwight before pivoting towards the three. "As much as you hate it right now, you do. So, you might as well shallow it." There was a snicker crawling along Dwight's lips, until she then added, "Besides, I'm trying to help out your friend." Through trembling breaths, Glenn wasn't sure whether to trust her word. Either way, they were still here as prisoners. "Dwight, four Alexandrians are better to bargain with than three, especially if there's an injured one."

Hesitantly, Dwight paused with a tense hand remaining on the knife. Glenn could tell he was still considering splitting that wound open even more. "But they'll know we're serious if we bring a dead one to their gates," he sneered through gritted teeth, digging the knife into the damaged tissue enough where Daryl flinched. Sympathetically, Glenn scowled at the waking archer; Daryl's eyes were cracked open, stiffly watching every move Dwight was making. His fingers were lightly tearing at the dirt, and Glenn wasn't sure if it was the pain, if he was about to snap, or both.

Biting his lower lip, Glenn tried preventing himself from saying anything, and he just got luckier when Leya continued talking, "Killing him now will only create more problems for us. Plus, Negan wants every able body, even him. Dwight, put the knife down. Come on, let him go." There was a long pause, but with an aggressive sigh Dwight let up. He pulled away from Daryl, who cringed as Dwight yanked whatever of the blade was in the wound out.

Droplets of blood flew from the knife as it did, but Dwight didn't care; he faced the Alexandrians, heatedly walking over to Glenn and kneeling down in front of him. Raising the bloodied knife for them to see, Dwight muttered, "You're damn lucky she showed up." Glenn tried keeping a level head as Dwight preceded to clean the blade on the Alexandrian's shirt; he did the same with his palm, which had Daryl's blood smeared all over it.

"Come on, let's start packing up," Leya murmured, coaxing Dwight to finish wiping off his hand before leaving the three.

For the rest of the time they were quiet, waiting on the Saviors as they gathered all their stuff. It was getting chillier as the rain propelled towards the earth, splashing on Glenn's hair and landing on his cheeks. After all, it was the only entertainment they had; the rain or bugs in the dirt. There were the Saviors' conversations too, and keeping track of what they were doing. "We'll take them with us, til the storm passes. After that, we'll see what Negan wants, when he wants to do this thing," Leya said as the Saviors started putting out the fire. Glenn had even searched for something sharp as Michonne did. But there was nothing, there was nothing to get them out of this. And what was worse, Glenn knew sooner or later their people would come looking.

The sound of heavy footsteps suddenly drew their attention to Dwight. He was closing on Daryl with a tan blanket and when he got there, prodded the archer in the ribs with his foot. "Hey, what the hell?" Glenn yapped in a startle as Daryl grunted and clenched his side.

"Shut up," Dwight snipped towards Glenn as he rounded to Daryl's other side, saying, "Wakey, wakey, Daryl." The downed groaned and lagged at moving, which only provoked the Savior's impatience. "Come on," he snarled, driving his nails at the wound, which let Daryl to voicing his pain more crucially.

"Stop it!" Rosita shouted, but that was before Daryl shakily grabbed Dwight's collar and launched a fist into his neck.

Shit. Well, if the shot didn't kill Daryl, this certainly would. Dwight, stumbled back in shock, but within a few seconds countered with, "The FUCK?" In a fit of rage, the Savior aimed his knee into Daryl's stomach, before bringing his knuckles down against the Alexandrian's cheek. An excruciating grunt made its way from Daryl as he caught himself on his elbow, but Dwight pressed a knee into his back. As Daryl was forced down, Dwight took out his gun and put the barrel right at his temple.

In bewilderment and desperation, Glenn called, "No, stop!"

"Don't do this!" Michonne compelled.

Dwight just ignored them, though, and Glenn could tell he was seconds from pulling that trigger. "Dwight, that's enough!" Leya's voice demanded, coming up towards him. It almost looked like Dwight was about to throw a tantrum, but he finally depressed.

"Fine," he jarred, clutching Daryl's vest and slamming him against the tree. Scanning the ground, Dwight then picked up the blanket he dropped and threw it at Daryl's side. "Get yourself together, we're leaving this place," the Savior ordered as he sauntered off.

Michonne could still feel her heart racing after Dwight left. There was some relief, but it was only a matter of time before he'd snap again, and she was doubtful Daryl would be spared the next time. At least the archer was up now; although he was wincing as he sluggishly reached for the blanket. They didn't say anything though, knowing they'd already caused enough peril.

The hunter barely had a moment to himself; Daryl could only press the waddled blanket against the bleeding wound before the Saviors rebounded. "Come on, get up," a man said, parading the Saviors to help Michonne, Glenn, and Rosita to their feet. There was that sensation, of blood penetrating down her legs after sitting for to long. Some dirt still clung to them as the Saviors led the three away, but they were hesitant and kept looking back. Daryl was slower at getting up, and looked like he was about to rip off the heads of the Saviors trying to help him. They didn't look very pleased either, but it was their job. "Go, they'll be right behind us," the Savior then instructed, and Michonne began walking a few steps behind Glenn, who followed Rosita. Within a few seconds, Michonne was already looking back to be sure they'd gotten Daryl up. They had; threw a blanket over him, and told him to walk.

Thunder claps echoed viciously as they trudged on through the woods; it was definitely better than when they were sitting in hell. The hike was about fifteen or twenty minutes, which was lucky because with each step the world grew darker and the rain grew heavier. For a while they were stuck listening to the Saviors bantering about who was going to be riding in the rain, or wondering if they should stop if it got too bad. Whatever it was, it stopped when they saw the clearing ahead.

Michonne trailed closely to her friends; sliding down the slope, passed the changing leaves and pokie branches. She glanced up once her feet hit cement, there were a couple cars and some motorcycles blockading the street. Stopping for a brief moment, Michonne shot a look over her shoulder as Glenn and Rosita did. The Saviors in the rear of the group shuffled lastly from the forest with Daryl. The archer wasn't looking to good; pale and shaken, but he was still on his feet. "Hey, come on," Dwight sharply directed, making his way up to the back of a truck and opening it. With Daryl's crossbow in hands, Dwight indicated it towards the dark abyss of the vehicle. "You three first, then Daryl will join you," he said, nodding towards them.

There was a short moment where the Alexandrians just stared at the cage they were about to crawl into. With a sigh, Rosita fared towards the compartment, but before she got in Leya put a hand out to stop her. "Wait," she delivered, drawing out her knife and cutting the rope from Rosita's hands. "Please don't make me regret this," Leya finished as Rosita fled her gaze and got up into the truck. Moving forward, she released Glenn and Michonne, who latched her hands on the truck's steel rim to hull herself up after Glenn.

A musky stench lingered in the small, dull space of the truck; something strong enough that Michonne forced a large amount of air from her lungs. The dragging of their feet soon diminished as they settled down, and when they did, looked back into the open. The Saviors were finally bringing Daryl, and the moment he reached the truck, Michonne and Glenn were right at his side. The archer grabbed the top of the car with a wince, achingly pulling himself up with his friends' help. There he immediately collasped against the wall. "No, hey," Glenn huskily maundered as he sundered before Daryl. Michonne was already sticking the blanket, still wrapped around Daryl, against the wound. She could barely see anything though, and it only got worse when the Saviors slammed the doors after throwing them a few water bottles.

They could hear each other's breath in-between the thunder's rumbles, but it was pitch black. "Daryl?" Michonne lightly called, hoping for some response from the recruiter. Just by touching his skin, she could feel the clammy-cold that was beginning to cling to him. "I can't see anything…"

A huge clash of lightning illuminated parts of the compartment, but only for a second and then the downpour washed it over. "I'm fine…" Daryl replied in a bit of a pant as the vehicle started to accelerate.

"Yeah, if only those words could fool us," Glenn mumbled urgently as he shifted around the cabin. "Rosita, search the floor. See if there's anything we can use." On hearing that, Michonne heard Rosita rustling on the metallic base behind her.

Furrowing her eyes, Michonne tried seeing anything as she put more pressure on the bullet hole. But there was no use, and the harder she pressed the more Daryl would recoil. "I'm sorry," Michonne gritted her teeth as he winced. "What can I do?"

Prying himself up a bit, Daryl softly grunted, "It's fine, I got it." He tried laying his hand on the wound, finishing with, "Go help them." But, Michonne kept her hand where it was.

"They don't need my help, you do; even if that means just sitting here," she said strongly. And the Alexandrian knew Daryl was listening, because she could feel his hand retreating. "Trust me, they aren't going to leave anything back here for us."

"She's right," Rosita second, with Michonne glancing towards her voice, "There's nothing." Not even the whites of her eyes could be detected as she plopped down with a sigh.

Glenn scuffled back over to them, defeatedly giving up as well. "How's he doing?" he asked, coming beside Michonne.

"I can't say, if I can't see it," she answered unfortunately. "But we nee-"

shrieeeeeeek

They all felt themselves tumbling over as the truck brutally jerked back and forth. Thousands of something kept slamming against the side of the vehicle, but Michonne was too busy trying to steady Daryl and herself. Within a few seconds both of them almost flew forward into Rosita or Glenn, but the vehicle then suddenly skidded to a halt. "Everybody okay?" It took a long moment before Glenn spoke out. They were all quiet, trying to catch their breaths and wrap their heads around what just happened. And Michonne was nearly about to sent the okay when she felt Daryl move beside her, but gunshots and screaming silenced it all.