Still Better Than Roadkill

Rick, Michonne, Daryl, and I had finally agreed to go with Jesus to see this so-called Hilltop place. Maggie and Glenn decided to come too, and Abraham, of course, volunteered himself with that usual mix of confidence and recklessness.

We gathered what we needed the next morning and started heading for the RV. I leaned against it, watching Daryl, who’d been apprehended by Denise.

She’d called him over, her expression somewhere between nervous and determined. In her hands, she held a small, lumpy oat cake wrapped in cloth.

“Here,” she said, holding it out toward Daryl. “Homemade oat cake. Complex carbohydrates, omega-3s.”

She was so sweet. Although Daryl hadn’t managed to bring her requested soda for Tara back, she was grateful that he’d tried. I think she even saw the funny side when I informed her that the can was submerged in the pond in the truck's cab.

Daryl barely spared her offering a glance. “Nah, I’m good. We’re gonna make a pit stop. I’ll pick up somethin' then.”

Denise didn’t flinch. “Like rabies?”

I snorted, pressing my lips together to keep from laughing.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her, then at the oat cake. With a grumble, he snatched it from her hands. “I hope it tastes better than it looks. ‘Cause it looks like shit.”

Denise only shrugged. “Shit’s still better than roadkill.”

That was it - I couldn’t hold it in. A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it. Daryl shot me a glare, stuffing the oat cake into his pocket.

He huffed, shaking his head. “Gonna regret takin’ this damn thing.”

I smirked, nudging his arm. “She’s just saying thank you. I think it’s cute that a girl baked for you – I never will.”

He grunted. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just go.”

Still smiling, I watched him climb into the RV, knowing damn well he’d end up eating that oat cake before the day was over.

I was just about to follow, when Maggie grabbed my hand, pulling me back just enough so the others wouldn’t hear.

“I need to tell you something,” she whispered.

I turned, expecting something bad. In this world, it was always something bad.

But then she hesitated, biting her lip before finally saying, “I’m pregnant.”

I just stared at her.

Pregnant. Pregnant.

Of all the things she could have told me, that was not what I expected. Not in this world. Not with everything we’d seen, everything we’d lost. The idea of bringing a baby into all of this? It was reckless. It was dangerous. It was stupid.

And yet, when I looked at Maggie, I saw nothing but determination. I could tell how much this meant to her.

“You’re insane,” I muttered against her shoulder. “But I’m happy for you.”

She laughed, holding on tight. “I know.”

When I let go, Glenn was watching us. He didn’t need to say anything - I could already see the quiet pride in his face. This was what they wanted. What they chose. I hugged him, too.

Daryl called my name from the RV, impatience thick in his tone. I turned, exhaling hard.

“Alright,” I said, stepping back. “Let’s go see if this Hilltop place is actually real.”

~

We rolled up a long dirt road toward the entrance to the Hilltop, passing open fields and patches of wild grass that had been beaten into pathways by steady foot traffic. A thin wooden fence ran along part of the road, more for guiding livestock than keeping anything dangerous out. But beyond that, standing tall and firm, was the real defence - a thick wall made from massive logs, sharpened at the top into deadly points. It was crude but solid, something built with actual thought behind it.

The gate itself was large and reinforced. As we approached, a few figures moved along the catwalk above, watching us. They weren’t just standing around - they were guarding this place. That told me more than anything else that the people inside took their safety seriously.

One of the guards demanded we hand over our weapons, but Jesus vouched for us, and we were allowed to keep them – not that we’d ever have given them up. We'd made that mistake already at Alexandria.

Beyond the walls, it was like we had stepped into another world. There were gardens, real ones, with rows of neatly tended crops. I spotted corn, tomatoes, maybe even beans growing in careful lines. Off to the side, a few men were fixing a tractor near a pen full of pigs, their grunts and snorts carrying through the air. It smelled fresh - like dirt, sweat, and food cooking somewhere nearby.

There were people everywhere, watching us. Some with cautious eyes, others just curious. A woman walked by holding a little boy’s hand, murmuring something to him before they disappeared into a trailer. There were lots of them lined up in neat rows.

Then there was the main house. It stood in the center of it all, towering above the rest of the buildings like some old-world mansion. Three stories high, paint peeling in places but still grand. Large windows reflected the light spilling through the scattered clouds above. It looked like something out of a history book, like one of those old colonial homes that rich people used to live in.

I glanced at Daryl. He wasn’t impressed. His eyes stayed sharp, taking in every detail like he was expecting a trap. I didn’t blame him. Places like this? They usually came with a catch.

~

I’m not sure what the fuck just happened...

We’d somehow gone from going to check out the Hilltop, to making a deal that involved us agreeing to take down a group of people that had been demanding half of their produce – using violence to ensure their co-operation.

“Negan’s the head of a group of people he calls the Saviors.” Jesus had explained.

Negan? Why did that name sound so familiar?

“As soon as the walls were built, the Saviors showed up.” Jesus had continued. “They met with Gregory on behalf of their boss. He made a lot of demands, even more threats. And he killed one of us – beat him to death right in front of us. Said we needed to understand, right off the bat.”

We were tough, good fighters and we needed food, fast, so Rick had agreed.

I felt uneasy, but I knew it needed to be done. We had to do this for Alexandria. Besides, their leader – Gregory – seemed like a total pussy. We were their only option.

~

The RV rumbled beneath as we made our way back to Alexandria. The air inside was thick with exhaustion, but there was something else, too - something lighter. For once, we weren’t coming back empty-handed – even if we were going to have to take down these saviours in return. We had food, supplies, and maybe even something bigger: hope.

I was leaning against Daryl, my head resting against his shoulder, when Maggie shifted in her seat across from us. She glanced at Glenn, who nodded, and then she pulled something small from her jacket pocket.

“I, uh… we wanted to share this with y’all,” Maggie said hesitantly, unfolding a piece of paper and holding it up.

It took me a second to realize what I was looking at.

A sonogram.

The grainy black-and-white image of their baby.

The RV went completely silent.

“The doctor at Hilltop had a working sonogram machine,” Maggie explained, her voice soft but steady. “This is our baby.”

Shocked murmurs filled the space. Rick leaned in closer, his eyes wide. Abraham let out a low whistle from the driver’s seat, shaking his head in surprise. Michonne’s face broke into a rare, full smile.

“Damn,” Rick said, taking the photo when Maggie passed it to him. “Look at that.”

The picture made its way around the group, moving from hand to hand, drawing smiles and quiet awws.

Then it reached Daryl.

I felt him go still beside me.

He stared at the picture, his face unreadable, his fingers gripping the edges a little too tightly. There was something in his eyes - something I couldn’t quite place. It wasn't the disbelief I felt that Maggie and Glenn could be so stupid. It was something else.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. He masked it, clearing his throat and passing the sonogram to me without a word.

I glanced down at it, feeling a strange warmth spread through my chest despite myself. This world wasn’t made for babies. But somehow, Maggie and Glenn still believed in a future where one could exist.

Maggie looked at Daryl, hesitant. “We hadn’t told anyone yet,” she admitted. “Just Beth. Hershel. And Athena.”

I didn’t miss the way Daryl’s jaw clenched.

“Congrats,” he muttered, looking away, feigning interest in the passing trees outside the window.

I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his, squeezing gently. He didn’t look at me, but he squeezed back.

He was quiet for the rest of the journey, and the second we got back to Alexandria, he was gone.

One minute, he was walking beside me, the next, he wasn’t. No word, no glance back, he just disappeared into the streets like a ghost.

I let him be at first, figuring he needed a moment to breathe after everything. But as the sun started sinking lower and the streetlights flickered to life, I knew something was off. Daryl brooded, could be a sulker, sure, but he didn’t usually just vanish. In fact, he’d been glued to my side since the explosion.

So, I went looking.

I found him behind one of the outer buildings near the wall, crouched by his bike, fiddling with the engine even though there was nothing wrong with it. His back was to me, shoulders tense, hands moving with that restless energy he got when something was eating at him.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or am I supposed to guess?” I asked, leaning against the wall beside him.

He didn’t look up. “Nothin’ wrong.”

I sighed. “You disappear the second we get back, avoid me, and now you’re pretending to fix a bike that doesn’t need fixing...”

He wiped his hands on a rag, still not meeting my eyes. “Just wanted some quiet, s’all.”

I wasn’t buying it. “Is it the deal Rick made? The one with Hilltop? Taking out the Saviors?”

“Nah.”

“The food situation? Because we’re sorting that now.”

“Nah.”

I studied him, his face tight, his hands gripping the rag a little too hard. Then it hit me.

“Maggie and Glenn,” I said carefully. “You're upset I didn’t tell you right away?”

Daryl tensed. It was barely noticeable, but I caught it.

“Nah,” he said flatly. Too flat. Too quick. “Jus’ stop.”

But I saw the way his fingers curled against his knee, how his shoulders hunched just slightly, like he was bracing himself. I’d hit a nerve.

“Daryl,” I said softly. “There wasn’t time. Plus, I didn’t think you’d care.”

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “Ain’t about that. Jus’ leave it.”

Nope. “Then what is it?”

Silence.

I watched him, waiting. He wouldn’t lie - not really. But he would try to bury whatever this was under half-truths and gruff deflections, hoping I’d let it go.

I wasn’t letting it go. “Please just talk to me.”

Finally, he stood, tossing the rag onto the seat of his bike. His fingers tapped against the metal, his eyes darting anywhere but me. “Jus’…” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “A kid.”

I nodded, waiting for him to go on.

He hesitated. Then, quieter, almost like he didn’t want to say it out loud.

“We ain’t never gonna have that.”

My chest tightened.

He said it like it didn’t matter. Like he was just making an observation. But his body betrayed him - the stiffness in his stance, the way his fingers twitched against the bike’s handlebar. He cared. More than he wanted to admit.

I stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “Daryl…”

“S’fine,” he cut in, forcing a shrug. “Ain’t somethin’ ya want.”

I swallowed hard. He was right, but it hurt my heart that I already knew what his brain was doing to him.

“You think it’s because I don’t love you enough for that? Isn’t it?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not true.”

His gaze finally met mine. And in that moment, I saw it - the worry, the longing, the quiet jealousy he didn’t know how to name.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Those demons still lingered and I knew it.

“S’get some rest.” He mumbled, grabbing my hand and leading me toward our house.

A/N: Thank you so much for your votes and comments. ❤️