Work Text:
The smoke still hung in the air, thick with the scent of blood, ash, and something else—something older. Grief, maybe. Maggie stood at the edge of the watchtower, her hands resting on the railing, her knuckles white. Below her, Alexandria was quiet now. The walkers were gone. The people—what was left of them—were beginning to rebuild.
But Maggie couldn’t move.
Deanna had died. She had heard Michonne’s voice, steady but heavy, when she told her what had happened. Deanna had gone out fighting the dead. She had chosen her end.
Maggie pressed a hand to her stomach, still flat beneath her shirt. The baby was just a whisper of life, a promise. But it was enough to make everything feel sharper.
“She believed in this place,” Maggie said quietly, not realizing Glenn had come up behind her.
He stepped beside her, his presence warm and grounding. “She believed in you.”
Maggie shook her head. “She believed in all of us. Even when we didn’t believe in ourselves.”
They stood in silence for a moment, watching as Rick and Carl helped Spencer clear debris from the street. Michonne was talking with Aaron, her katana sheathed but never far. Carol, Daryl, Tobin and Eric, checking on people.
“She gave us a chance,” Maggie said. “She gave me a chance. Taught me to lead. To grow something here.”
Glenn reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “And you will. We will.”
She looked down at their joined hands, then back out at the town. Alexandria was battered, but it stood. The walls are still up and the breaches can be fixed. The people had fought. And Deanna’s vision—her dream of a future—was still alive, even if she wasn’t.
“I’m going to plant something tomorrow,” Maggie said suddenly. “In the garden. For her.”
Glenn smiled softly. “She’d like that.”
Maggie nodded. “She said we were the future. I want our child to grow up in a world where that’s still true.”
And for the first time in days, she let herself believe it might be possible.