note before you read: some of this chapter is in june's perspective, and some is in third person. i hate switching between them, but i really want to show daryl's perspective of what's happening. you'll know when i switch perspectives :)

♡

I don't know what's happening. Not fully, at least. I don't think I'm with Michonne or Hershel anymore, because I haven't heard either of them say anything. They put a blindfold on over my eyes and threw me in the backseat of some car. I think they might have thought that making it so I couldn't see all the bad things happening would make me calm down a little. Maybe breathe a little more and scream a little less. But I'm just as afraid as I was before. Even more afraid, actually. It's just that, now, I don't know when to scream. I don't know when someone is near me or when Hershel or Michonne might be in danger. I don't know how many people are around me or what kinds of weapons they have. I don't know what I'm terrified of, but I know it's there, and that's enough to keep me in a panic.

My hands won't stop shaking now, which is something that's never happened to me this badly before. It feels like my whole body is vibrating. Like that screen that would come on when you switched to the wrong input on the TV. The salt and pepper screen. And the vibrating thing makes me feel like my heart is gonna stop at any given moment.

Outside, I hear a big boom. I can only imagine what it is. I think—or maybe know—that we're at the prison now. So either that big boom was just a warning, or it hit the prison. Our home. Maybe hurt some of the people inside of it. Maybe hurt my momma. Maybe hurt my daddy. Maybe hurt anyone.

The thought of it alone makes my heart plummet into my stomach, and it falls even further when I hear shouting outside. It's the Governor's voice. I can tell, but I can't fully make out all that he's saying. And soon after, I think I might hear Rick's voice, too. It's quiet, very far away, and impossible to make out. But I'm almost positive it's him. That means we're at the prison. And the Governor's plan is about to become reality. Our home will either be taken or destroyed, and our people will get hurt.

Then, suddenly, the door to the backseat of this car opens. I hear it open and I scramble away from it as best I can until my back is up against the opposite door. With my wrists tied together, I fumble for the door handle, but the moment I find it, someone grabs me by the ankle and pulls me across the backseat, toward them. It's a man's hands—I don't know how, but I can just tell—and they aren't at all gentle with me. When they get me over to the door, they pull me out and keep a tight grip around my upper right arm.

"I'd advise you to cooperate," the man growls into my ear.

I don't have any other choice but to listen to him.

♡

Daryl stands at the fence, his crossbow at his side and a rage burning inside of him that he has to fight with himself not to allow to control him. With him at the fence are Carl, Sasha, Tyreese, Maggie, Beth, and Rick. Birdie is still inside, helping deal with the sick, and Daryl assumes Juniper is back in her cell, probably writing in her journal or maybe making some kind of craft, knowing her.

Even if Daryl knows where they are, though, that doesn't take away the gut-churning dread he feels inside. If shit hits the fan, which it almost inevitably will, he won't have time to find Birdie. He'll have to get to June as quickly as he can, keep her safe until their next moment of peace, and hope to God that they'll be able to find Birdie again.

Birdie will survive. Daryl is sure of that. She's as tough as nails and as smart as a fox. Whatever situation Birdie finds herself in, she'll work her way out of it. Daryl knows that. June's not the same. She's smarter and stronger than anyone Daryl knows in a whole lot of ways, but not the ways that will keep her alive if she's left on her own. She's a child and a nervous one at that. Daryl will have to prioritize getting to June, even if it means Birdie will be separated from them. He can't get to both of them at once. June is his priority, and he knows she's Birdie's, too, but Daryl knows he would hate to be separated from Birdie again.

When Birdie went to jail, it was already hard enough for him and June. She was his best friend, more than anything else, and always had been. And June had lost her mother, on top of it, so emotions ran high, and misdirected anger was always lingering in the air. And they only just got Birdie back when they first took in everyone from Woodbury. Losing her again would devastate Daryl, and it would tear Juni to pieces.

In the end, though, they will find her again. There's no chance they don't. Maybe it will take weeks, months, or even years. But they will find Birdie again. She always seems to find her way back to them.

All Daryl can do now is hope that it doesn't happen. Hope that the Governor will listen. Hope he'll be patient and maybe even strike a deal. Maybe they won't have to leave, there won't be any kind of fight, and things will turn out okay. Maybe Daryl won't even have to interrupt June's writing time in her cell.

That's all Daryl is thinking about as he stares across the field, eyeing the Governor with all the hatred in his being. He has people and guns, a lot of them, too, and he has even brought a tank, which terrifies Daryl whether the Governor plans to use it or not. He's using weapons of war against a place with babies inside. With Juni inside.

Rick takes a step closer to the fence, and Daryl watches him, wondering how he'll handle this whole situation. "It's not up to me! There's a council now. They run this place!" Rick shouts across the field.

The Governor, on top of the tank with his hands on his hips, gets a small smirk, but it disappears as quickly as it came. He looks to his left, over at one of his trucks. "Is Hershel on the council?" he asks.

They all watch, their hearts hammering in their chests, as a woman pulls Hershel from the back of a truck. She guides him limping through the grass with his hands behind his back and forces him to kneel, front and center. Maggie's hand flies up to her mouth while Beth gasps in horror. It almost feels impossible, having the Governor standing there before them, somehow even more dangerous than before.

"What about Michonne?" A man steps to the other side of the truck and roughly pulls Michonne out of the passenger seat by the arm. She's resistant in a rebellious sort of way, but she's smart enough to know that she wasn't getting out of this just yet and not to waste too much energy when the fight hasn't even truly begun yet. "She on the council, too?" the Governor asks.

Daryl's skin feels prickly, like he's being stabbed by a thousand tiny needles all over his body. His mind is racing at a thousand miles per minute, thinking about Hershel and Michonne and the last times he talked to them. It wasn't much earlier that day, before he had gone to talk to Rick about Carol, just like Hershel said to.

Fear hits Daryl like a wave and he suddenly feels like he's drowning.

He left Juni with Hershel and Michonne.

It's almost like the Governor is staring right at him, proud of his own actions, as he says, "And that Birdie, too, maybe? She was always a good soldier. Especially when you gave her some motivation. You too, Dixon. I see you up there."

Daryl watches, his breath caught in his throat, as a man steps towards the back door of a car and reaches inside. He swears that, if he listens closely, he can hear a soft shriek all the way across the yard. A small, skinny figure is pulled out of the backseat with a blindfold on, and Daryl knows who it is before he sees her. She's stumbling on her feet as the man pulls her, not at all gently, toward Hershel and Michonne. Daryl flinches as the man shoves the girl to the ground. When the man pulls the blindfold off, Daryl almost drops to his knees.

On her knees, Juni sits in the dirt, gasping for breath as hot, terrified tears trickle down her already red cheeks. She's been crying for a while, wiping her eyes until her skin has gotten raw, and the sight of her makes everything go quiet, even if just for a few seconds.

"Nothing like a daughter to motivate you, huh?" the Governor drawls. The look on his sick face—it's like he's enjoying this. Like he's enjoying ripping Daryl's heart out of his chest, crushing it in his fist, and tossing it to the ground like it's nothing. "She's scared. I'd like to let her go," he says, shrugging his shoulders, "but I can't do that until I have what I want."

Juni is quivering, crying, and looking all around. It reminds Daryl of the animals she would sometimes cry for when she was younger, when she would sometimes go out hunting with him, Merle, and his dad. Wailing deer and shaking rabbits, horrified and in pain because they know that they are about to die. June would beg for them to just let her take the animals to the pet doctor, as she called it, to save them. She understood more, as she got older, the way the world works—the circle of life, the food chain, predator and prey. But Daryl can still always see it in her eyes, no matter how old she's getting. She always feels bad for the animals they hunt. She feels their fear and mourns their deaths like she's known them all her life, but she keeps it inside nowadays.

But now, Juni looks like the prey. The Governor, along with the armed man behind June, is the predator.

It takes everything in Daryl not to pick up a gun and pull the trigger until every single one of the Governor's soldiers is dead. He wants to with every fiber of his being, but he knows that the moment a shot is fired, the more danger June is in. An improperly aimed bullet could strike her from their side, or one of the Governor's people might just kill her right away. The safest option, for now, is to let the situation play out as calmly as possible. The less violence, the safer June is.

Daryl thinks of her smiling. He thinks of when she was just a baby, smiling and giggling in his arms with Birdie by his side. He thinks of driving her to school. He thinks of picking her up and having her come running towards his truck with an exciting story to tell him. He thinks of how tired he'd be after work. How he wouldn't pay half of the words she said any mind. When his patience was low and his anger ran high. He thinks of yelling at her for stupid things. He thinks of the guilt that always made him feel sick when she'd be crying in the corner, afraid of him. He thinks of why he ever thought it was for the better. He thinks of her hitting him on Hershel's farm, telling him she hated him. He thinks of all the mistakes he made, all of the things he regrets, and all the love that June has given him regardless.

He thinks of her smiling, no matter if he smiled back or not. Sometimes he would, on his better days, and sometimes he wouldn't and she'd smile anyway. He thinks of her being gone. He thinks of a hole, deep in his chest, that nothing else will ever be able to fill.

She's not gone yet. She's right there in the grass. She's breathing. She's crying, she's afraid. But she's breathing.

Rick yells, breaking Daryl from his thoughts. "I don't make decisions anymore!" he says, his weight shifting from foot to foot. He's nearly as terrified as Daryl right now.

"You're making the decisions today, Rick," the Governor replies. It sounds more like an order than anything else. He wants this over and done with as easily and as quickly as possible, no matter what it takes. "Come down here and let's... let's have that talk."

Rick does make his way down the field, closer to the Governor, but all of it is kind of a blur to Daryl. He can't tear his eyes from his daughter. He's scared that if he looks away, she'll be gone. His finger taps against the trigger of his weapon, itching to aim it and pull, but he controls himself, waiting, waiting, waiting until he can safely make a move. Carl discreetly passes guns out to each of the people at the fence, so that when things take a turn for the worse, they will be ready.

"Let them go, right now. I'll stay down here. Talk as long as you want," Rick says, his eyes darting between the Governor and his hostages from the other side of the fence. His voice is shaky, but he tries to keep it as firm as he can. "But you let 'em go. You got a tank. You don't need hostages."

"I do," the Governor tells him quickly. "This is just to show you I'm serious. Not to blast a hole in our new home."

Rick's eyes linger on June, who is staring at him with a desperate, pleading look on her face. She's not speaking, but he can practically read her thoughts. She's begging him to surrender. She knows he won't go down without a fight. The only way to survive is to surrender. But the more Rick looks at her, the more he can't stop thinking about the fact that they need somewhere safe for the kids to grow up. They need somewhere with walls, with food, and with beds. They need somewhere where kids like June won't have to live through so traumatizing events like this.

"You and your people, you have till sundown to get out of here or they die," the Governor promises. And he means it. June can feel it in her chest. If Rick doesn't surrender, she will die, Hershel will die, and Michonne will die, followed by every other person in the prison.

"It doesn't have to go down this way," Rick responds pleadingly.

"I got more people, more firepower. We need this prison. There it is. It's not about the past. It's about right now."

"There are children here," Rick tells him. He doesn't know how much it means to the Governor, though, knowing that children will die. He practically has June at gunpoint, only eleven years old. But Rick still tries it, grasping at straws trying not to lose this place. "Some of them are sick. They won't- they won't survive."

The Governor's jaw clenches. He sighs, looks around, and shakes his head. His patience is wearing mighty thin and everyone around him can sense it. "I have a tank," he reminds Rick loudly. "And I'm lettin' you walk away from here. What else is there to talk about? I could shoot you all. You'd all shoot back. I know that. But we'll win and you'll be dead. All of you. Doesn't have to be like that. Like I said, it's your choice."

June lets out a frightened whimper as the sound of walkers snarling hits her ears. She's pretty sure she hears Hershel whisper something to her—maybe something along the lines of it's okay—but she can barely hear him. Instead, all she hears are the walkers. Death crawling closer with snapping jaws and bloodstained teeth.

Then, there are three gunshots. Bang, bang, bang, and the snarling stops.

"Noise will only draw more of them over. The longer you wait, the harder it will be for you to get out of here."

The sound of the shots leaves Daryl's ears ringing. He and the others have their weapons drawn, now, just the same as the enemies, but the Governor doesn't pay them any mind. His focus remains on Rick. And although he knows giving up the prison is a huge loss, Daryl silently begs for Rick to just do it. To make the decision, have every pack up their bags, and get out of there. So Daryl can just hold Juni in his arms and promise her never to let something like this happen to her again. Something tells him, though, that this isn't going to end without a fight.

"You got maybe an hour of sunlight left. I suggest you start packing," the Governor says again. But Rick still won't make his decision. Strings in his mind pull him every which way, and every second that ticks by is a second closer to chaos. "The longer you wait, the harder it's gonna be for you to get out of here."

"We can all-" Rick stops himself mid-sentence. June watches him look around, considering different ideas in his mind until he finally settles on one. "We can all live together. There's enough room for all of us."

The Governor nods in agreement to only one of those statements. "More than enough. But I don't think my family would sleep well knowing that you were under the same roof."

"We'd live in different cell blocks. We'd never have to see each other till we're all ready."

"It could work. You know it could!" Hershel says from beside June. She looks over to see him facing the Governor, and it gives her one flicker of hope inside, but she knows—really knows—that he's wrong. It's not going to work. Even if it could work, the Governor won't take the deal. He takes and he takes and he takes, no matter who has to die.

And just as she expected, the Governors stamps out that flame in June as fast as it lit. "It could've," he says. "But it can't. Not after Woodbury. Not after Andrea."

"Look, I'm not saying it's gonna be easy. Fact is, it's gonna be a hell of a lot harder than standing here shooting at each other. But I don't think we have a choice."

"We don't. You do."

"We're not leaving."

June feels like she's melting with every word that's spoken. The sun beats down hot as ever, sweat beads gather at her hairline, and she knows that she's potentially moments away from her death. She just wishes Rick would look at her again. Read her mind. Listen to the things she's thinking and make the decision that would make it so she could have the chance to see her parents again. It's all she wants.

If she squints her eyes, she can see her daddy at the fence. He has his gun poking through one of the holes, probably with his sights either on the Governor or the man behind June herself. She doesn't want him to have to see her die. She just wants to hug him.

But Rick keeps going. His mind is set now and June can hear it in his voice. It's firm. It's strong, determined, and set. "You try and force us, we'll fight back," he announces decidedly. June doesn't look at him any longer, because she only looks at her dad. "Like you said, the gunshots will just bring more of them out. They'll take down the fences. Without the fences, this place is worthless. Now, we can all live in the prison or none of us can."

For a moment, all there is is silence. Then, June can hear the Governor jump down from the tank. His boots swish in the grass, making his steps loud enough for June to be able to tell where he is. She hears him walk towards her, and when he gets to her, standing between her and Hershel, she can feel his presence. It's angry, impatient, and impulsive. June stays staring at her dad, even if she can hear the Governor's heavy breathing behind her.

That's when everyone at the fence, including her daddy, starts to panic. She can hear their voices gasping, crying no, even if the sound is quiet being so far away. June dares to look away from her dad for just a moment, turning to her left to see what the Governor has done. What she sees is Hershel, a soft look on his face, with Michonne's sword lined up with his neck.

"No, Juni," Daryl whispers, though he knows that she can't actually hear him. He watches her body tremble as she gasps in fear, and he keeps muttering under his breath, wishing that she could hear him. "No, no. Don't look, baby. Don't look."

Rick's arm shoots out in front of him, pointing at one of the Governor's people. "You! You in the ponytail. Is this what you want? Is this what any of you want?!" he shouts, his words fast and panicked, just the same as his heartbeat.

"What we want is what you got. Period," a man with a raspy voice drawls. "Time for you to leave, asshole."

"Look, I fought him before. And after, we took in his old friends. They've become leaders in what we have here. Now you put down your weapons, walk through those gates... you're one of us," Rick offers desperately. Some of the Governor's people even seem to consider the offer, but they all seem too afraid to make any sort of move. "We let go of all of it, and nobody dies. Everyone who's alive right now. Everyone who's made it this far. We've all done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive. But we can still come back. We're not too far gone."

Each one of the Governor's people looks around at each other, wondering what the best thing to do is. They question their morals and their priorities. They wonder if it's right to put their own families first over others. Kids like June, who are too young to even know how good life might get for them. Is it right to prioritize their own lives or June's? Or any of the people in the prison? Sick kids. Babies. Families. They could all live together. They could all live together if only the Governor would agree. But he's not agreeing. He's not moving.

June looks at Rick, then back at Hershel and the blade at his neck. "Rick, please," she cries, her voice so weak that only the people nearest to her can hear it. She doesn't want Hershel to die. She doesn't want anyone to die. She just wants things to go back to normal, but they never will. They never will.

"We get to come back," Rick goes on to say. June watches the sun shimmer on the blade of the sword, her head spinning as it slowly inches further from Hershel's neck. He smiles, but June can't bring herself to. "I know," Rick says, "we call can change."

The sword is a foot or so away from Hershel. June can tell he's looking at Beth and Maggie, up at the fences. Next to them, Daryl whispers to June once more, but she can't hear it. "Look at me. Look at me."

Then, the Governor speaks.

"Liar."

The blade swings back toward Hershel, striking him in the neck and sending blood splattering around him. Drips of red hit June's cheek. She can't breathe. She can't move. She can't do anything at all.

There's screaming as Hershel falls to the dirt, and then it's all gunshots.

June closes her eyes and pretends she's sitting on the back of her dad's old, blue truck. He's beside her, and she's leaning against his arm. It's the Fourth of July. They can see the fireworks from all over Georgia, like little stars in the night sky. They sound like soft explosions, distant and neverending. Juni can feel every one of them in her bones.