Joe never trusted painted words on broken boards.
Sanctuary for all.
No place like this world gave anything without cost.
Still, Amy clung to the idea, Andrea too tired to argue, the children too young to know better.
So, he played along.
He left them tucked inside a derelict house just a mile beyond the compound's fence line.
Broken windows, but strong walls. "Stay here. Stay quiet. Don't open the door for anyone but me."
His voice was a low growl, the kind of tone that told them not to question.
He brushed a hand over Julian's tiny head, then met Amy's wide eyes. "If it goes bad… you run."
Joe slipped out into the tree line, shadow to shadow, watching.
The settlement looked like salvation to the desperate.
Fences reinforced with scrap steel, smoke curling from chimneys, food smells drifting faintly in the air.
But to Joe, it all reeked wrong.
Guards leaned too loose at their posts, not protecting... patrolling.
Watching for prey.
His stomach turned when he saw it, one of them with Daryl's crossbow slung like a trophy.
Another casually stroking Michonne's katana. A third wore Maggie's necklace.
These weren't caretakers. These were thieves wearing their preys possessions as trophies.
Joe's hands moved on instinct, checking gear.
Glock 17 strapped tight at his thigh. AK-47 with two spare mags. The 12-gauge across his back. And his katana.
The world changed, but steel never lied.
Then he heard it. The metallic screech of wheels, so out of place it made his blood run cold.
A train. Smoke rising, brakes hissing. Who the hell still had a working train?
He crouched lower, eyes locked.
Doors opened. Survivors spilled out.
Their faces gaunt but hopeful.
A black man led them, standing tall, voice steady. For a heartbeat, it almost looked real.
Strangers greeting strangers, words exchanged without malice. But then rifles lifted, smiles curdled, and the hope was snuffed out.
The newcomers were herded, shouting, into a boxcar. The clang of the lock sealed the truth.
Sanctuary was a lie. Terminus was a cage.
Joe moved fast, fury propelling him through back alleys and rubble-strewn paths.
His gut was already uneasy with what he'd found.
He burst through the safehouse door...
Then froze froze for only a moment.
Andrea slumped against the wall, her shirt soaked crimson. Amy knelt, terror in her face, a pistol pressed against her skull.
The babies wailed, their cries sharp and panicked in the stale air.
Joe's rage snapped free. He was on the gunman before thought caught up.
The katana punched clean through ribs and lung. The man gurgled, eyes wide, before Joe tore the blade free and took his head in a savage swing.
Blood sprayed across the peeling wallpaper. The body folded like rags.
He dropped beside Andrea, pressing hard against the wound, his voice raw. "No, no, no... stay with me. Stay with me, damn it."
Amy pulled the children close, rocking them, whispering frantic comforts that couldn't drown out their cries.
Andrea stirred, eyes fluttering, breath shallow. Her hand found his, weak but warm.
"Joe…" A ghost of a smile. "I love you. Both of you. Make them strong… strong enough to survive."
Her words broke into a shudder, and then her body went limp.
The silence hit like a hammer. Then Amy's scream shattered it, high and broken.
She clutched her sister's body, sobbing into bloodied fabric.
Joe's chest heaved. His vision tunneled red. Every nerve screamed for war, for the walls of Terminus to burn, for every thief and killer inside to choke on their screams.
His grip on the katana shook with the force of it.
He almost rose then, ready to cut the world down.
That's when Amy's arms wrapped around him, trembling, the babies pressed between them. "We can't lose you too."
The words cracked something inside him. His rage faltered... just enough for him to look.
Really look.
Andrea's chest rose, shallow, faint. Not gone. Not yet.
His hands moved fast, tearing cloth, pressing hard to stop the bleeding. He yanked open his pack, fingers finding gauze, tape, anything.
His breath rasped between clenched teeth as he worked.
Every second stretched. Every drop of blood felt like another chance slipping away.
Finally... the flow slowed.
Weak, but under control. She was unconscious, but alive.
Joe sagged against the wall, drenched in her blood, shaking.
His eyes burned. His fury didn't but instead twisted into something sharper.
Purpose.
He pulled Andrea close, one arm holding her steady, the other wrapping Amy and the children into him.
Andrea was alive. But Terminus would burn for this.
...
Joe's pulse thundered as he felt Andrea's shallow breath against his chest. She was alive... but barely.
Every second counted.
He gathered her in his arms, lifting her gently but fast. "Come on," he barked at Amy, his voice clipped with urgency.
Amy scooped up the children, cradling Julian while Grace clung to her side, wide-eyed and silent for once.
They slipped into the night, Joe's steps deliberate but swift.
He didn't need to say it aloud... the shot from the dead man's gun had been loud enough to carry.
Others would be coming to investigate.
Street by street, shadow to shadow, he led them deeper into the husk of the town until he found another house, sturdier than the last.
Its door still hung on strong hinges, its walls thick with old plaster.
He set Andrea down on a dusty couch, checking her bandages, making sure the bleeding stayed stemmed.
Her skin was pale but her pulse was there.
Joe turned to Amy, pressing the AK-47 into her shaking hands. His voice was steady now, cold iron. "If anyone but me comes through that door, you pull the trigger. Don't stop until you run out. Don't hesitate."
Amy swallowed hard, clutching the weapon, eyes locked on him. "What are you gonna do?"
Joe gained an evil grin, "I'm gonna kill them all. Burn Terminus to the ground."
The words were flat, absolute.
Not a promise... an inevitability.
He leaned close, brushing a bloodstained hand against Grace's cheek, then Julian's tiny head. His voice lowered, a whisper only Amy could hear. "Protect them. No matter what."
Joe dragged a rusted car across the driveway, wedging it tight against the front door.
He wiped sweat from his brow, leaving a smear of Andrea's blood across his skin. He looked back, gaze hard, unblinking.
Then he was gone.
Out into the night, katana at his side, shotgun across his back, Glock strapped tight.
His breath came steady, measured.
His muscles coiled like a drawn bow. Every step carried the weight of his fury.
Every heartbeat pounding one thought into his skull, 'They tried to take from me. Now, I take everything from them.'
Terminus's walls rose ahead, torches flickering along the fences. Shadows moved at the gates. Joe's eyes narrowed.
The blood in his veins surged hot, but his mind was sharp, steady. Not rage anymore.
Resolve.
And as he closed in, one truth hardened in his chest like stone.
'When the sun rises, Terminus will be nothing but ash.'
...
Carol and the others followed the tracks long into the night, the moon their only lantern.
Their boots crunched gravel, every step pulling them forward, every silence heavy with the fear of what they might find at Terminus.
Then they heard it...
A faint, desperate cry cutting through the dark.
An infant.
Carol's eyes locked with Tyreese's. No hesitation.
They broke into a run, Emma carrying both Esther and Judith, following after them.
Ahead, a house sat hunched against the night, its walls rattling with the moans of the dead.
Walkers clawed at the doors and windows, pressing against the barricade of a rusted car.
Inside, the baby's cries sharpened.
"Let's clear the walkers!" Carol snapped.
Tyreese charged first, his hammer swinging bone from skull, each strike brutal and final.
Carol's knife moved in clean arcs, silencing one ghoul after another.
By the time the last walker fell, the air reeked of rot, but the cries from within were still strong... still alive.
Tyreese heaved the car aside with a grunt, metal scraping pavement. Carol didn't wait. She shoved the door open.
Only to stare down the black mouth of an AK-47.
"Wait!" Carol's voice cracked.
Amy's hands trembled, then the barrel dropped. In an instant she was clinging to Carol, shaking, tears soaking into Carol's shirt. "You're alive… you came."
She pulled Carol into the back room, urgency driving her.
Andrea lay on a couch, pale, bandaged, barely conscious. Blood stained the makeshift dressings.
Carol was at her side in a heartbeat, her training snapping to the front. She tore open her bag, hands already moving.
"Hold her steady. Keep pressure here. Don't let her drift." Her tone left no room for argument.
Behind them, the others filed in, relief and exhaustion etched on their faces.
Emma crossed the room fast, dropping to her knees beside Amy. She wrapped her arms around her, and Amy collapsed into sobs against her.
On a blanket spread across the floor, the children were gathered.
Julian and Grace, Esther, and now Judith, reunited at last. Their tiny voices and small movements filled the room with fragile life.
For a moment, amidst the tears and the blood, there was a sliver of something rare.
A family, together again.
Carol's hands stayed on Andrea, steady and unflinching. She knew the truth. Andrea wasn't out of danger yet. Not by a long shot.
And Joe wasn't here.
Carol's hands worked with calm precision, though her heart hammered beneath the surface.
She had Andrea stretched across the couch, a lantern set nearby casting sharp light over pale skin and crimson-soaked bandages.
"Ty, hold her steady," Carol ordered.
Tyreese pressed Andrea's shoulders down gently, his big hands firm but careful. Andrea stirred, groaning weakly, her eyes fluttering without focus.
Carol peeled the last of Joe's makeshift wrappings away. The wound was ugly, swollen, the bullet lodged deep but visible.
She exhaled through her nose, steadying herself. "It's deep, but I can get it."
Amy knelt at the foot of the couch, hands clasped tight, whispering prayers under her breath.
Her rifle long forgotten on the floor beside her.
Carol dug into her pack, pulling out a pair of sterilized tweezers, a needle, and coarse thread.
She set them down with the care of someone who knew every second mattered.
"This is going to hurt," she murmured, though Andrea was barely conscious enough to hear.
Then she went in.
The room fell silent except for the tiny cries of the babies and the scrape of metal against bone.
Carol's eyes narrowed in focus, sweat beading on her brow.
She worked fast, precise, ignoring the tremor in Amy's voice, ignoring her own fear.
"Got it." The bullet clinked onto the wooden floor.
Amy let out a sob, relief breaking through.
Carol wasn't finished yet though.
She threaded the needle, her hands steady as stone, and began sewing the wound closed with tight, practiced stitches.
Her breath was shallow but sure. By the time she tied the last knot, the bleeding had stopped completely.
Carol sat back, wiping her hands on a rag, eyes on Andrea's chest. It rose and fell—weak, but steady now.
"She'll live," Carol said firmly. "But she needs rest. And quiet."
Amy broke then, leaning over her sister, sobbing into her shoulder, whispering thank-yous over and over.
Tyreese let out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Behind them, the children shifted on their blanket.
Julian, Grace, Esther, and Judith nestled together in a rare moment of peace, tiny hands brushing against each other in sleep.
Tyreese hovered close, eyes flicking from Andrea's pale face to the door.
Finally, he asked, voice low but edged, "Where's Joe?"
Amy wiped at her wet cheeks, her voice shaking but firm. "He… he left. After the man attacked us. Andrea's bleeding had stopped then, so he carried her here. Set us up safe. Gave me the rifle."
She swallowed hard, gripping the AK tighter. "Said to protect the kids. Said he was going back."
"Back where?" Tyreese pressed.
Amy's eyes lifted, wide with a mix of fear and certainty. "Terminus. He scouted them earlier. Saw what they really were. He told me they had Daryl's crossbow, Michonne's sword, Maggie's necklace."
Her words broke, a whisper heavy with horror. "They took them. They took them."
Carol froze for half a second, the truth slamming into her. Her eyes hardened, jaw set.
Amy's grip on the rifle trembled. "He said he was going to burn the place to the ground."
A heavy silence filled the room. The babies' soft coos were the only sound.
Tyreese shook his head slowly. "If he's in there alone…"
Carol cut him off, voice like steel. "Then Terminus is already on fire."
The weight of her words settled over them all.
Amy looked at Emma, then back at Andrea lying between life and death, then to the children gathered close.
Her tears welled again, but behind them flickered something else.
Hope.
Because if anyone could do it… it was Joe.