Work Text:
Maggie's leaning heavily against him by the time they reach the back nine. Her palm is pressed flat over the wound in her side and she doesn't falter, but her breathing hitches and he tries not to focus on the fresh blood that oozes through her fingers with every step. Glenn concentrates instead of putting one foot in front of the other, on the silence of the green, on the way everyone has automatically fanned out to keep an eye on the distant tree line and cover each other. They're a good team. They're going to get through this.
There's no way he's losing her.
He nearly walks into Rick when the man stops a couple of dozen feet from the building. He shifts his arm more firmly around Maggie's shoulders, darts a quick glance at her pale face before following Rick's gaze to the back door of the country club.
Rick cocks his head. "You sure about this?"
"It's like Beth said. We cleared out most of the walkers last time we was through here," Daryl says. He lifts one shoulder. "Some more mighta got in—"
"If they did, we can clear them out too," Beth says.
Daryl nods. "It's big, we never even explored more'n a third of it. Ain't gonna be no home base but it'll do 'til we can get ourselves sorted again."
"Rick," Glenn puts in, "we don't have a choice. Maggie needs to rest."
"I'm fine," Maggie says irritably. "It's just a scratch."
"Maggie," Glenn says, "you got shot."
"Glenn's right," Daryl says. "Ain't just Maggie, neither. All of us need to heal our wounds."
Glenn narrows his eyes when Daryl's gaze flicks quickly to Beth, but before he can speak again Rick nods and turns to the group. "All right. Daryl, Sasha, you're with me. The rest of you wait out here for the all clear. Michonne, you're in charge. Anything you can't handle, y'all fall back to the shack we passed out on the road. We meet up there."
"Dad, I can help—"
"I know the layout—" Beth says.
Abraham cuts everyone off, steps forward. "Grimes, I led a combat team through two goddamn tours of—"
"Michonne's in charge," Rick interrupts firmly. "Carl, you need to take the right flank, keep an eye out for walkers. Abraham, you got the left. Keep an eye on the perimeter." He scrubs a hand through his beard, steps forward and runs his palm quickly over the downy hair on Judith's head. The little girl smiles up at him over Tyreese's shoulder, giggles happily. "We'll be back soon."
It's the longest five minutes of Glenn's life.
After the gunfire and explosions at Terminus, the grounds of the country club seem eerily quiet. Nothing moves, save for Carl lifting a hand to squash his hat more firmly on his head, Rosita pushing her hair back out of her eyes. When a bird lifts off from the top of the building with an irritated caw and a flap of wings, they all jerk toward the sound. Glenn rolls his eyes, presses his arm more firmly around Maggie and tries to get his heartbeat to return to normal.
"There are three hundred and thirty six dimples on a regulation golf ball," Eugene says into the silence.
Glenn shifts on one foot, stares at the door.
"The first golf balls were actually stuffed with feathers. Leather balls stuffed with feathers."
"Eugene?" Rosita says.
"Yes?"
"Please stop talking."
"All righty then."
"This don't feel right," Maggie says softly. "It's takin' too long."
"The back corridor is blocked off," Beth says, "and all the other doors were shut. I'm sure of it. They're gonna be just fine."
But Glenn can't help notice Beth's hand flex on the knife strapped to her thigh – Daryl's knife – and the way she bites at her bottom lip. He notices, too, the sigh of relief she gives when the back door opens and Daryl pokes his head outside, waves an arm.
"All clear," he calls out. "Come on!"
The only reason Glenn doesn't carry Maggie into the clubhouse is that he knows she'll clock him one for it once she's better, and she's got a pretty damned impressive right hook.
He settles Maggie on one of the chairs, grins at her when she smiles up at him. Now that they're inside, safe, he finally feels like he can breathe again. He swipes a hand through his hair, watches as the others fan through the room. Tyreese happily hands the baby over to Carl, who promptly sits cross-legged on the floor with the child in his lap. Abraham bends his head together with Rosita before taking up a spot in front of one of the boarded-up windows, rifle flung across his lap. Beth's found a broom from somewhere and is busy sweeping some broken glass into the corner, while Daryl and Michonne set one of the tables on its side in front of the door, a lackluster barricade – but with so many eyes trained on the outside world the flimsiness of the barrier doesn't worry Glenn much.
They're safe… for now. Out of that train car, with Terminus nothing but smoke and ashes in their past. He's not fool enough to believe that this is a stopping point. He knows there is a long road ahead for them, whether to Washington or somewhere else. But maybe now they can begin to start working through their grief, dealing with their losses before moving forward on the road ahead.
He feels Maggie's hand reach for his, curls his fingers around hers.
"You look so serious," she says. "What are you thinking about?"
Hershel, he thinks. Carol. Tara. Lizzie and Mika. David and Karen. All the good people lost. Some of them names that he can't say aloud just yet, because then their deaths will be so much more real and he just may crack. So Glenn just squeezes her hand tighter, shakes his head. "Gotta find you some bandages," he says instead.
"I'm fine," Maggie insists.
Glenn rolls his eyes, grins down at her. It's only when he takes a deep breath prior to launching into his latest salvo in trying to convince his wife that taking care of her injury isn't a weakness that he smells it. He wrinkles his nose, sniffs again. "Do you smell that?"
"Beth said there's about fifty dead bodies in the building," Maggie answers wryly. "It's going to smell a little rank."
"No," Glenn says. "Not that. It smells like… peaches?"
"It's schnapps," Beth says. Glenn looks up in time to see her dart a quick grin at Daryl before she turns her attention back to the shards of glass on the floor. "Heard it's not very good."
"Got that right," Rick says.
Maggie tugs at his hand then, points out an old dustpan leaning against the wall and juts her chin in her sister's direction. And as he helps Beth clean up the mess, Glenn can't help musing on that easy smile Beth gave to Daryl… and the way Daryl grinned slowly back.