A few hours later, night had fully settled in.
Maggie was sitting on the porch, legs folded against her chest and chin resting on her knees, settled into the rocking chair. Darkness fell thick over the Greene farm, bringing with it the characteristic silence of the place—a silence that was almost heavy, seeming to occupy every space. The lantern hanging from the wooden post cast a yellowish, flickering light, insufficient to completely drive away the shadows that stretched across the yard, distorting outlines and making everything around feel more distant and uncertain.
She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in the last few hours. Everything seemed to have changed too quickly, as if the world had spun faster than she could keep up with. Just a short while ago, the farm's routine had followed its usual rhythm; now there was a boy hovering between life and death, wounded strangers, and urgent decisions being made with no room for hesitation.
The man dressed in police clothes was named Rick Grimes, and the boy he carried in his arms was Carl, his son. Faced with the situation, her father hadn't hesitated to help them; he acted immediately, fully assuming responsibility as a doctor. The urgency was obvious, but there was also a moral weight involved. After all, it had been Otis who caused the accident: during a hunt, while trying to hit a deer, he fired and struck the boy instead. The situation, however, was far more critical than anyone had initially imagined: the bullet that hit Carl had fragmented into six pieces inside his body. Paradoxically, this may have prevented instant death, but it also made everything far more dangerous—if the fragments weren't removed in time, the boy wouldn't survive…
Rick had to stay behind to donate blood, which prevented him from going to notify his wife, Lori Grimes. Given that, she herself took the initiative to go fetch her, while Shane—the man who had accompanied Rick—and Otis rushed off in search of whatever was needed for the surgery: proper instruments, a ventilator, and any other equipment that could increase the chances of success. The town hospital had been destroyed by fire months earlier, leaving only an improvised setup at the local school. Even so, there was an obvious problem: the place was infested with the dead.
With no alternative, all that remained was to trust that Shane and Otis would manage to return. She could only pray that both came back alive and with the supplies necessary to save the boy's life.
Shortly before that, she had ridden into the woods, where she found Lori and brought her back to the farm. The two of them had a long, tense conversation, trying to organize their thoughts amid the chaos. Lori initially hesitated upon learning that her father was a veterinarian and not a formally trained medical doctor, preferring to wait for Jason—the other doctor in the group—to return. But reality was merciless: there was no time to wait. If the equipment arrived, her father would have to operate immediately; the longer they waited for Jason to return…
He's going to come back anyway!
As if the situation weren't already serious enough, Glenn and T-Dog had arrived at the farm some time later. Glenn was covered in dust, visibly exhausted, while T-Dog had a deep cut on his arm that kept bleeding nonstop. She helped them as best she could, cleaning and bandaging the wound. Glenn stayed by her side throughout the process, trying to ease the tension with a few jokes, but his voice betrayed his nervousness—a subtle tremor he couldn't hide…
But none of that mattered.
She was deeply worried about Jason…
He had left early in the morning. He still hadn't returned.
Maggie hugged her own knees tighter, her heart tight.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to push away the image of him lying somewhere, bleeding, or worse—turned into one of those things that dragged their feet.
No. He would come back.
Maggie opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on the dark road.
Only the wind blew low among the trees.
She kept waiting.
Suddenly, a familiar sound cut through the night's silence—the rhythmic trot of hooves on packed earth.
Maggie raised her head abruptly, as if yanked back to reality. Her eyes widened as she made out, in the distance, the silhouette of Duke approaching the farm. The horse advanced at a calm trot, kicking up small clouds of dust along the path, and atop him was Jason.
For an instant, everything around her seemed to disappear. His clothes were stained with dirt and blood, which made her heart clench, but there were no clear signs of serious injury. He sat upright in the saddle, conscious, in control. That was enough for immediate relief to rush through her. Still, there was something different—something that didn't go unnoticed. A bow was strapped to his back. Since when had he started carrying that? And besides, a heavy backpack accompanied the gear…
But none of that mattered in that moment!
He was okay!
She stood up, her body reacting before any rational thought, driven by a whirlwind of emotions that had been building since Jason disappeared during the day. Fear had settled in quietly, growing little by little, fed by every minute without news, by every possible scenario her mind insisted on constructing—all of them ending badly. And now, seeing him there, alive, returning, it all overflowed at once. The relief came so strong it almost hurt, mixed with the tension that hadn't yet left and with the love she could no longer contain or disguise. That was why she couldn't hold back: because for hours she had had to face the very real possibility of losing him, and in that instant she simply needed to be sure he was truly there—so without thinking twice, she hurried down the porch steps almost at a run and went toward him.
"Jason!"
"Maggie…?"
He dismounted before Duke had even fully stopped. The reins slipped from his fingers, falling limp, forgotten the moment he opened his arms. Maggie didn't hesitate; she crossed the remaining distance and threw herself against him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as if she needed to confirm, through touch, that he was real. She buried her face in his chest, breathing in deeply, like someone finally able to breathe again after being submerged too long.
Jason held her close without saying a word. One firm hand stayed on her back while the other rested on the nape of her neck—an instinctive, protective gesture, almost as if he wanted to anchor her there, safe. It was in that moment he noticed the faint trembling running through Maggie's body. He sighed inwardly, cursing himself for making her worry. Still, there was a certain relief: because of it, she was there, alive and safe—and for him, nothing mattered more than that…
While holding her in his arms, he raised his gaze, alert to his surroundings. There were more people on the farm than usual. With his sharp hearing, he could make out unfamiliar voices and footsteps—"new presences," out of place in an environment he already knew so well. It took only a few seconds for him to reach the almost obvious conclusion: this was most likely Rick's group. Even so, even if it weren't, there was one important detail—it wasn't one of those "trash groups" like the one he'd encountered in town. The simple fact that Maggie was okay, right there in his arms, already said a great deal. His gaze then turned to the porch. An Asian guy had just stepped outside because of the commotion of his arrival, and he recognized him immediately: Glenn. That was enough to confirm his "assumption"…
"You idiot…" she murmured against his chest, her voice hoarse, laden with equal parts worry and relief. "You took too long. I was here imagining the most horrible things… I thought something had happened, Jason. Don't do this to me again…"
Jason wrapped her even tighter in his arms, as if wanting to make up, in that single gesture, for all the hours of absence. His large hand slowly slid up her back, squeezing firmly, keeping her close, present. He tilted his face and first kissed the top of her head in an almost instinctive gesture full of care. But he didn't stop there. When she lifted her gaze, he closed the remaining distance. The kiss was soft and warm…
"Sorry…" After pulling back slightly, he murmured against her lips, voice low, deep, sincere, still too close for any real space to form between them. "I didn't want to make you worry. But I'm okay. Really. I promise I won't do it again unless there's a good reason…"
His eyes lingered on hers for one extra second, as if wanting to make sure she believed his words.
Maggie opened her mouth to reply, but that was when her eyes finally began to notice.
And this time, she froze.
Her gaze slowly drifted downward.
At his waist, a double holster caught her attention—two chrome pistols with golden details that reflected the lantern's faint light. Strapped to the side of his leg, a knife in a sturdy sheath. On his back, a well-maintained compound bow accompanied by a full quiver—at least twenty arrows. And as if that weren't enough, a robust backpack was strapped to his shoulders.
Maggie blinked, surprised.
"…Where did you get all this?"
Jason shrugged as if it were no big deal.
"The pistols and the bow… found them in a mansion. Belonged to some rich old guy, by the look of it." He paused briefly, adjusting the backpack. "The knife and the rest came from an abandoned car…"
She kept staring, clearly intrigued but also impressed.
"But that's what made you take so long…?"
He let out a sigh.
"I'll tell you the whole story later…"
Before she could insist, he leaned in and kissed her again—this time shorter, but still filled with affection. Maggie gave him a light slap on the chest, more out of relief than anger, her eyes still shining with tears she refused to let fall.
"It's a good thing you're okay, you idiot…" she murmured, voice choked but already carrying a hint of a smile. "If you hadn't come back today… I swear I would have gone after you."
Jason gave a low, hoarse, tired laugh—the sound she loved—and pulled her back into him, wrapping her in a tight hug. His arms enveloped her completely, as if he wanted to shield her from the entire world. Maggie buried her face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent. She stayed there for a long second, arms looped around his neck, body pressed to his as if she needed to confirm he was real.
When she finally pulled back a little, Jason kept his hands on her waist, looking into her eyes with that calm intensity that always disarmed her.
"Did something happen while I was gone?" he asked, voice low but firm. "There are new people on the porch from what I just saw. And you've got a face that says the day was rough."
Maggie blinked, as if only now remembering everything. The relief of seeing him alive had momentarily erased the rest. She took a deep breath and nodded slowly.
"Yes, there was an incident while you were out… A man came running across the field… carrying his shot son. His name is Rick Grimes. The boy is Carl. My dad's taking care of him now… but it's serious. The bullet fragmented into six pieces inside his body. Otis shot accidentally during a hunt… hit the kid. Another man from Rick's group—Shane—and Otis left to get medicine and equipment from the old school, which is full of walkers. I went to get Rick's wife, Lori… and later Glenn and that other one, T-Dog, arrived injured. T-Dog has a nasty cut on his arm. I helped bandage it. Everyone's tense… and my dad said he wanted your help as soon as you got back. Said that with your knowledge you might have some better idea how to handle this."
Jason raised an eyebrow, his expression turning serious.
"Alright," he said simply, without hesitation. "I'll help however I can, but first I need to take Duke to the barn…"
He gave her waist one last squeeze before letting go, turning to Duke. He took the reins and began leading the horse toward the smaller barn, Maggie walking beside him, her hand still laced with his.
As they walked, Duke snorted softly, his slow, rhythmic trot echoing on the dry earth. The light from the porch lantern was already fading behind them, and the barn loomed ahead, dark and quiet.
Jason pushed the door open with his shoulder, led Duke inside, and began unsaddling the animal with calm, precise movements. Maggie stood at the entrance, arms crossed, watching him.
"You're really okay?" she asked, her voice lower now, almost a whisper. "You're not hurt? That blood isn't yours, right?"
Jason glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile.
"I'm in one piece, don't worry. And no, this blood isn't mine… relax." He finished removing the saddle and hung it on the wall hook. "I ran into a few of those things while scouting the town and got dirty dealing with them… Anyway, I'm feeling a lot better now that I'm home…"
"Home, huh? Speaking of which, you abandoned me after that night we had…" Maggie smiled back, crossing her arms as she adopted a serious expression. "I had to wait for Patricia to tell me where you went. You didn't leave me a note or anything. I was really mad at first until worry took over my heart. What do you have to say about that…?"
Jason finished tying Duke, gave the horse one last pat on the neck, and turned to her.
"…I'm sorry, Maggie. I was a jerk for doing that. I let my anxiety to gain more knowledge get the better of me…"
Maggie stayed silent for a moment, arms still crossed, staring at him as if deciding whether to accept the apology or not. The faint light from the barn lantern drew soft shadows across her face, highlighting the worried line between her brows and the slight tremor in her lips she tried to hide.
"You really were a jerk…" she said at last, voice low, but without real anger—just the remnants of the unease that hadn't fully left.
Jason lowered his head for a second, running a hand through his messy hair as if searching for the right words.
Maggie exhaled slowly, the sound escaping almost like a contained sigh. Her shoulders, previously tense, relaxed a little.
"But…" she began, glancing away for a moment as if organizing her feelings, "you're also the kind of idiot who does this trying to help someone…"
She looked back at him.
And this time, there was a clear trace of affection there.
"So I can't stay that angry… even if I want to."
Jason lifted his gaze slightly, watching her more closely. The tension that had hardened her features wasn't the same anymore; little by little, relief and happiness at seeing him well seemed to have taken the place of the anger she carried moments earlier. There were still traces of it—clear in her eyes and in the way she held him—but they were no longer dominant. He wasn't surprised. Deep down, he'd already expected that reaction. He knew Maggie well enough to understand that the fear she felt for him would always speak louder than any passing irritation. And in a way, that only made everything harder, because it meant her worry was real, deep… and that he was the reason for it.
He pulled her by the waist with a firm, slow motion, his large fingers sliding along the curves of her back until they settled at the base of her spine, drawing her against him in a way that was both protective and possessive. His body still carried the heat of the entire day, the smell of earth, gunpowder, and something distinctly masculine that made her stomach give that familiar flip. He tilted his face, lips brushing her ear as he spoke low, voice hoarse and laden.
"You have no idea how hard it was for me to leave you in that bed this morning…" he murmured, warm breath against her skin. "I looked at you sleeping, all messy and beautiful… and I almost gave up on leaving. Almost crawled back under the sheet with you. It was just this once, Maggie. I promise…"
Maggie felt a shiver run up her spine. His tone—that mix of sincerity and restrained desire—was too dangerous. She tried to keep her expression serious, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her, lifting in a small, inevitable smile.
"You shouldn't talk like that right now, you know? It's not the time for this—my dad needs you…" she said, giving his shoulder a light smack with the palm of her hand, more playful than scolding.
"Yeah, I know… Let's head back soon…"
Maggie stayed close for one second longer, as if reluctant to fully pull away from him.
Then she took a deep breath.
"Let's go…"
And repeated it, now more firmly.
Jason nodded once, simply.
He extinguished the barn lantern with a quick motion, plunging the interior into dimness, and opened the door for them both to leave.
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(A/N: I want to leave a quick notice for you all!
The TWD story is progressing well, and starting tomorrow, there will be chapters released Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday on Patreon. On some of those days, there will also be double chapters for those who want to stay even further ahead.
Additionally, [Fate Gacha] has already reached 13 chapters on Patreon, fully rewritten and much better than before—a far more polished and immersive version of the story.
If you enjoy reading ahead and getting access to more content, this is a great time to subscribe to Patreon.
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