twd: the last silence

Chapter 94 – "The Weight of It All"

Maggie sat beside Axel, but not too close. There was still a distance between them—both physical and something deeper, something unsaid.

The night air was cool and still. A breeze brushed through Alexandria like a whisper, brushing over the two of them seated beneath the stars. Crickets hummed softly in the distance, and the faint glow from the walls made the shadows dance across Axel's face.

He looked calm, like he always did—legs stretched out, cigarette hanging loose from his lips, and that damned smile. That smile that never left. But tonight, it wasn't cocky. It was... tired. Quiet. Almost human.

"You good?" Axel asked, eyes still on the sky. His voice was casual, but there was a flicker of awareness in it. He knew what he just told her wasn't easy to swallow.

Maggie didn't answer at first. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her knees, trying to keep herself grounded. That story—his story—was still echoing in her ears.

"You were five," she whispered. "And he started training you?"

Axel nodded, tapping ash off his cigarette. "Yeah. Guess some dads teach their kids baseball. Mine gave me a knife and said, 'Don't flinch.'" He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Good ol' parenting, right?"

Maggie stared at him. "That's not parenting. That's turning your son into a weapon."

Axel turned to her, that ever-present grin still tugging at his lips—but there was no amusement in his eyes. "He didn't raise a son. He built a soldier. A project. And I was damn good at it, too."

Silence again. This time heavier.

Maggie rubbed her arms as if trying to ward off a chill that came from within.

"The story about the war criminal... it was real, wasn't it?"

Axel blew out smoke slowly, watching it drift into the sky. "Yeah, that was my tenth birthday present."

Maggie swallowed. Her throat was dry. "You killed him."

"I had to." He looked down at his hands. "It was either me or him. And Daddy was very clear—he wasn't taking both of us back."

He said it with that same smile, but now Maggie could see the cracks in it. Not weakness. No. This man wasn't weak. But something inside him had been hollowed out long ago and never filled back in.

"And the village?" she asked after a long pause.

Axel tilted his head back, exhaling smoke toward the stars. "That was after the fall. After my family was gone and revenge was the only thing keeping me breathing. I found people—scared, hungry, angry. And I told them the truth: I was using them. But I also protected them." His eyes gleamed. "You'd be surprised how many people are okay with being used if it means sleeping safely at night."

"And after you killed Alice?" Maggie asked.

That name. The temperature seemed to drop just at the mention.

Axel didn't respond immediately. His smile faded, just for a breath, before it returned like muscle memory.

"After that... the village felt pointless. Like the ending of a story I already knew." He flicked the cigarette stub away. "So I walked. Been walking since."

Maggie watched him in silence. This wasn't a boy. This wasn't just some 21-year-old drifter with a sharp tongue and cocky charm. This was a storm wrapped in a smile. A loaded weapon with manners.

"Why tell me all this?" she asked, finally.

Axel turned his head, eyes glinting in the moonlight. "Because you've been watching me like I'm a ghost. And maybe... just maybe... it's nice when someone sees the whole monster instead of just the mask."

Maggie didn't look away.

"You scare me," she admitted, voice soft.

"Good." Axel smirked. "Means you're smart."

"But... I also feel safer when you're around. And I hate how much that confuses me."

Axel chuckled, standing up slowly, brushing the dust off his pants. "You're not the first to say that, love." He extended a hand down to her. "Come on, Maggie girl. Let's stop staring at the stars and start pretending we're not both broken."

Maggie took his hand.

As he helped her up, he leaned in close, his voice just above a whisper, teasing but gentle.

"Besides, you're starting to look at me like I'm a damn fairytale."

---

The moon hung high, casting pale silver light over Alexandria. The night was still, but Maggie's mind was a storm.

She stood where Axel had left her, her hand still tingling from his touch. His words swam in her head, haunting and heavy. That smile, that story, the death behind his eyes. But one thing clung to her mind more than anything.

His father's name.

She whispered it as if it were sacred, forbidden.

"What was his name?" she had asked him softly, unsure if he'd even answer.

Axel, as always, didn't flinch. He just smiled, cigarette between his lips, as he turned to walk away into the night.

"Reed," he said simply. Then, after a pause, "Michael Reed."

And then he was gone.

---

Later that night, Maggie made her way to Rick's house, her steps quick, her thoughts racing.

Inside, the familiar voices of the core group echoed in quiet conversation—Rick, Michonne, Daryl, Rosita, and Father Gabriel sat around the dining table, papers and notes spread out between them as they discussed ways to reinforce the northern wall.

Daryl was sipping coffee. Rosita looked exhausted. Gabriel was praying under his breath as they all tried to plan for the next week's work rotation.

When Maggie stepped inside, all their heads turned.

"Maggie?" Rick asked, standing. "Something wrong?"

She hesitated at the doorway, not sure how to even begin.

"It's about Axel," she said, walking in slowly.

That got everyone's attention.

"What did he do?" Rosita asked, already half-rising from her seat.

"Nothing. He didn't do anything wrong," Maggie said quickly, waving her hand. "But… I talked to him tonight. He told me everything. Or at least… enough to understand the kind of person he is."

They watched her closely. Daryl leaned forward, the same way he did when things started to matter. Michonne folded her arms, her eyes narrowing with interest.

"He told me about his father," Maggie continued. "That he was a war general. Trained Axel since he was five. Took him to war zones before the world ended. Taught him to kill."

Rick's expression tightened.

"He said the first person he ever killed was when he was ten. His father locked him in a room with a war criminal and gave him a knife. Told him the one who walked out got to live."

Silence settled like a weight in the room.

"That's messed up," Gabriel whispered.

"It explains a lot," Michonne murmured.

Maggie nodded. Her voice grew softer.

"I asked for his name. His father's name."

Everyone was still, waiting.

"Michael Reed."

The name dropped like a stone in water.

Rick's face twitched—just slightly. He looked like he'd been hit by a memory, something old and dusty stirred from the back of his mind.

"Michael Reed?" he repeated, low.

"You know the name?" Maggie asked, stepping closer.

Rick nodded slowly, pulling out a chair and sinking into it, his eyes distant now. "Yeah… I do. Before the fall, Michael Reed was known to law enforcement. Not for crimes… but for classified military actions. He was a ghost in the system. Special Forces. Rumors said he'd gone off the books more than once. Black ops, experimental training methods. The guy was a legend in all the wrong ways."

"That tracks," Daryl muttered.

"So Axel wasn't exaggerating," Maggie said.

"Not even close," Rick replied grimly.

Rosita shook her head, visibly unnerved. "That means Axel was trained like a weapon since he was a kid. We're not talking street survival—this is next-level conditioning."

Michonne nodded slowly. "And now we've got him in Alexandria... with a katana, a smile, and a haunted past."

Gabriel looked up from his prayer. "What are we going to do with him?"

Rick didn't answer right away. He looked toward the window, where the faint shape of the wall glowed under the moonlight.

"For now?" Rick said. "We let him stay. But we keep watching. Closely."

Maggie lowered her gaze, conflicted.

Because even now, even after hearing that name and seeing Rick's reaction, a small part of her still believed Axel wasn't just a weapon.

He was something else entirely.

---

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