It was one in the morning when Joe slipped out of bed to use the bathroom.
On his way back, he paused at the kids' room. All of them were sound asleep... except Chloe.
Her bright blue eyes stared curiously at him from the crib.
Joe scooped her up and carried her downstairs. In the kitchen, he pulled a bottle of breast milk from the fridge.
He set a pot of water to warm on the stove.
He tested the temperature on his wrist, then sat on the couch feeding Chloe until she was content.
He was about to lean back when movement outside the window caught his eye.
Joe set Chloe down carefully, wrapping her tight in a blanket so she wouldn't roll off.
He moved down the hall, silent and deliberate.
A shadow slipped through the window.
Joe flicked the light switch. "Who are you?"
The intruder froze.
A man with long hair, beard trimmed, eyes darting like a cornered fox.
"Wrong house…" Jesus said carefully.
Joe tilted his head. "Yeah."
Jesus edged backward toward the window. "I'm just gonna go."
Joe shook his head. "No. You're not."
Jesus smirked faintly, a chuckle in his voice. "You can't stop me."
Joe smiled back, sharp and cold. "Guess we'll find out."
What followed was a one-sided beating.
Joe slamming Jesus down, pinning him to the floor with brutal efficiency.
Jesus gasped, struggling under the weight of a man who fought worse than walkers every day of his life.
Before Joe could finish him off, the bedroom door burst open. Rick and Michonne stumbled out, half-dressed and armed.
They froze at the sight. Joe crouched over Jesus, bare chest gleaming with sweat, one arm cocked to end it.
"Wait!" Rick barked. "Joe, he's not a bad guy."
Joe looked at Rick, eyes burning, then slowly stood. "If you say he's good… Fine."
Jesus lay there panting, clutching his ribs.
Rick asked, "What are you doing here, Jesus?"
Voice raw, Jesus croaked, "We need to talk. I've come to bargain."
Rick sighed, rubbing his face. "This couldn't wait till morning?"
Jesus managed a weak grin. "Guess I got a little excited."
...
The next morning, Rick led Jesus into Deanna's office.
The room was already filled.
Joe leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.
Deanna sat behind her desk with Reg beside her, and Rick closed the door behind them.
Jesus looked around, calm but deliberate. "I know we got off to the wrong start. But Rick... you didn't leave me out there. That says something. I'm from a place like this. Hilltop. Part of my job is to find other settlements that might be open to trade."
Rick asked flatly, "So, you want to trade with us?"
Jesus nodded. "Yeah."
Joe cut in. "We don't really need anything right now."
Jesus held his ground. "That may be true today, but things change. Most of the time for the worse."
Deanna leaned forward. "Not here."
Jesus' voice dropped. "There's a lot more communities than you know. And not all of them are friendly. Some are… dangerous."
Deanna asked the obvious: "The Saviors?"
Jesus froze, eyes widening. "They've already reached you? Damn it."
Rick shook his head. "They don't even know we exist."
Joe smirked. "But we know them."
Jesus stared. "What? You've come across them, and you're still standing this strong?"
Joe's smirk widened. "You don't know the kind of people you're dealing with."
Jesus studied him, unsettled, but pressed on. "Maybe. But I do know this... you're good people. This is a good place. We could both benefit."
Joe leaned forward. "How would we benefit from you?" Rick, Deanna, and Reg glanced at him, gauging his tone.
Jesus answered, "We have fresh produce, livestock. Skilled blacksmiths."
Reg nodded. "Sounds like you're fairly self-sufficient. What do you want from us?"
"Medicine," Jesus admitted. "And weapons."
Joe's tone hardened. "No guns. We're not arming another group that could turn on us down the line."
Deanna glanced at Reg. "We should at least meet with their leader. What do we have to lose?"
Joe's eyes were cold. "Everything. Right now we're hidden. We start openly trading, we put ourselves on the Saviors' map."
Jesus tried again. "I thought the Saviors weren't an issue for you."
Rick crossed his arms. "They aren't. But why paint a target on ourselves when there's little to gain?"
Jesus sighed, then gambled. "Come to Hilltop with me. Meet our leader. It's less than an hour away."
Rick narrowed his eyes. "We know."
Jesus blinked. "What do you mean?"
Reg answered, calm but firm. "We've scouted most of the nearby communities. We know who's under the Saviors' thumb."
Jesus' jaw dropped. "How? How could you..."
Joe cut him off. "That's not for you to know."
Jesus took a breath, recomposing himself. "All the more reason to come and speak with our leader. I'm sure we can find an arrangement."
Joe stared at him for a long moment. "How much intel do you have on the Saviors?"
Jesus admitted, "We know where some of their bases are. They make us give up supplies to keep them off our backs."
Joe's smile was sharp. "Then we'll talk to your leader."
Deanna frowned. "Are you sure about this, Joe?"
Reg echoed her. "Didn't you just say it was better to stick to the shadows?"
Joe answered simply, "Intel."
Rick nodded once, signaling Deanna and Reg to hold back further questions while Jesus was still in the room.
Joe pushed off the wall. "Come on, Jesus. Let's get you home."
...
They were just finishing preparations when Jess jogged up, rifle slung awkwardly over her shoulder.
"Mind if I come along?" she asked, looking right at Joe.
He hesitated. Jess wasn't a fighter, not really.
But she was stubborn, and something in her tone said she wasn't asking for permission.
Finally Joe nodded. "Fine. Stay close, do as I say."
She smiled, relieved.
Joe gave the RV one last pre-trip check before climbing inside.
Rick stayed behind... he wanted to talk with Carl.
Joe would lead this run.
Daryl slid into the driver's seat, Abraham riding shotgun.
Glenn and Tara took spots near the middle, Jess next to the door. Jesus leaned quietly against the wall.
They pulled out of Alexandria and rolled down the empty stretch of highway toward Hilltop.
For a while, the ride was uneventful.
Then Daryl muttered, "Crash up ahead."
Abraham squinted through the windshield. "Looks fresh. Maybe an hour old at most."
Jesus stepped forward, face tight. "That's one of ours."
Daryl sighed, easing the RV onto the shoulder. "Figures."
They climbed out.
The overturned vehicle was a flatbed truck, lying on its side with a pair of walkers crushed underneath it, still clawing weakly at the air.
Joe's eyes narrowed. "If this is some kind of setup, I promise it won't end well for you, Jesus."
Jesus shook his head quickly. "It's not. We don't have many fighters. I know how this looks, but let me play it out. Can I borrow a gun?"
Daryl barked a laugh. "No."
He crouched, running a hand over the dirt. "Tracks here. Headed off that way."
They followed the sign to a squat white building with boarded-up windows. Glenn tapped the frame of the front door.
Jesus said, voice hopeful, "They have to be in there."
Abraham gripped his rifle. "So we going in?"
Daryl scowled. "This stinks."
Joe answered flatly, "We go in. We've got more than enough firepower to clear end any ambushes."
Jesus started forward, but Joe's hand shot out, shoving him back against the wall. "You stay here."
Joe turned to Jess. "If he moves, shoot him."
Jess swallowed hard, but nodded, raising her rifle.
Joe and the others moved inside. The hallways smelled of mold and stale blood.
Fluorescent lights hung low overhead.
Joe led with a bowie knife nearly fourteen inches long.
His katana stayed back at home, resting on the mantle like a trophy.
The group spread out.
Joe pressed forward, his boots silent on the tile. Three walkers staggered into view at the end of the corridor.
Joe broke into a run.
His knife punched into the first skull, dropping it instantly.
He shoved the corpse into the others, knocking them down, then slashed twice.
Two clean, efficient cuts that left the hall silent again.
He pushed into a side room. Two women froze at the sight of him, one older, one barely more than a girl.
"You know Jesus?" Joe asked.
They nodded quickly.
"Anyone else?"
The older one's voice shook. "Yeah. We got separated."
"Then stick close."
They trailed after him, wide-eyed, as he carved a path through the darkened halls.
Every walker that stumbled into their way fell with barely any effort. Each kill as casual as breathing.
The women kept stealing glances at him, as if struggling to decide whether they were more relieved or terrified by the man protecting them.
...
Daryl and Glenn pushed down the opposite hall, clearing rooms one by one.
The place stank of rot, and every shadow seemed ready to move.
Walkers stumbled from doorways, each one falling quick and quiet beneath their blades.
In the next room, Glenn shoved open the door and a walker came flying at him.
It dragged him to the ground, snarling inches from his face. Glenn grunted, straining to hold it back.
Daryl was there in a flash. He drove his knife down, the blade punching clean through the walker's skull.
Then he yanked the corpse off Glenn and hauled him up by the arm.
"You good?"
Glenn nodded, catching his breath. "Yeah. Let's keep moving."
They padded further down the corridor, boots soft against the dirty linoleum.
A low whimper carried from behind a door ahead. Then a groan.
Glenn shot Daryl a look, then lifted his foot and kicked the door open. The frame splintered, the door banging against the wall.
Inside, a walker clawed at a wardrobe, groaning as it slammed its rotting hands against the wood.
Glenn didn't hesitate... he stepped forward and drove his knife deep into its skull.
The body sagged, dropping limp.
He pulled open the wardrobe doors. A man sat crammed inside, middle-aged, eyes wide with fear.
The man froze at the sight of them, not sure if he was saved or damned.
Glenn's voice softened. "Come on. Let's go."
But the man shook his head. "I can't. My friend's still here… he's hurt."
Glenn nodded without missing a beat. "Alright. Then we'll find him together."
Daryl gave a grunt of agreement, already moving back into the hall, knife ready.
...
Meanwhile, Tara and Abraham worked another hallway. The path was clear, but groans echoed faintly from deeper inside.
They advanced, Abraham readying his knife to finish off another walker... then froze when Tara hissed, "Wait, he's alive."
It was no corpse but a man slumped against the wall, pale and barely hanging on.
Abraham looped the stranger's arm over his shoulder and hauled him upright.
Glenn and Daryl rejoined them moments later, the rescued man from earlier hovering close.
By the time they made it out, Joe was waiting with the two women he'd found.
Jesus exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Joe."
Joe gave a single nod. "You said it yourself... the living should help each other."
Tara pressed, "Then let's move."
They filed into the RV. Jess clung close to Joe on the bench seat, trembling faintly.
She hadn't been outside the walls for so long.
Every shadow felt like a threat, every creak of the RV's frame like an omen.
Joe's presence was the only anchor keeping her steady.
As the RV rolled on, the rescued Hilltoppers exchanged words with their saviors.
Glenn discovered the man he'd pulled from the wardrobe was Hilltop's only doctor... an obstetrician.
Glenn laughed, "Just what Joe needs."
Tara smacked his arm. "Might be what you need soon."
Glenn froze. "What? Are you serious?"
Tara's small smile was enough. Glenn hugged her tight, laughing hard.
Joe overheard and cracked a grin. "A little Glenn running around, huh?"
Daryl snorted. "That'd be something."
Joe turned to him. "What about Carol?"
Daryl's gaze shifted away. "…She wants one."
Joe chuckled. "A little Daryl'd be wild to see."
"Shut it," Daryl growled, jabbing Joe's arm.
The moment broke when the RV jolted hard. Abraham cursed. "We're stuck. Storm must've softened the ground."
Jesus leaned forward. "That's fine. We're here."
They stepped out, boots sinking into the mud. And there it was... the wooden walls of Hilltop.
For Joe's people, living behind Alexandria's steel walls, the sight didn't impress them much.
As they approached, a voice rang from the wall. "Hey! Stop right there!"
Rifles came up instinctively.
"Jesus," the guard shouted. "What the hell is this?"
"Relax, Cal," Jesus called back. "Open the gate. Freddy's hurt."
"Not until you give up your weapons."
Joe's voice cut like a knife. "That's not happening."
Harlan, the rescued doctor, stepped up. "Look, Cal... they saved us out there. Vouch for them."
Jesus pressed. "Lower the spears."
But Joe only growled, "I'm not wasting time with this. Get Gregory out here."
"No," Jesus snapped. "Listen... we ran out of ammo months ago. I trust them. Trust us."
Joe's eyes narrowed. "I don't trust anyone. But I'll follow you. For now."
That was enough. Cal hesitated, then swung the gates open.
Inside, Joe's group took in the place.
Stables of cattle. Pens of pigs. Chickens clucking in a coop. Raised gardens in neat rows.
The clang of forges filled the air where blacksmiths hammered glowing metal.
FEMA trailers lined the far side, crowded but functional.
"Barrington House," Jesus explained, gesturing to the towering mansion. "It was a museum once. Everyone knew about it. That's how we grew. Those windows let us see for miles... perfect for security. Though somehow you spied on us without us noticing."
Joe chuckled. "We're not your average ragtag group."
Inside Barrington House, the chandelier-lit entry felt like another world.
Abraham muttered, "Good gracious ignacious."
"Most rooms are living quarters now," Jesus said. "Even the non-bedrooms. We're growing... babies being born all the time."
A door creaked. A man in a tailored suit stepped out.
He scanned the group, lingering on Jess before smirking.
"Jesus," he said. "You're back... with guests."
"Everyone," Jesus announced, "This is Gregory. He runs Hilltop."
"I'm the boss," Gregory said smoothly.
Joe started, "I'm Joe, we..."
"Why don't y'all get cleaned up?" Gregory cut in. "Jesus will show you where. It's hard to keep this place clean."
Joe's lip curled. "I don't give a flying fuck."
Gregory blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Throw your tantrum at someone who cares. My presence is a favor to Jesus."
Gregory flushed with anger, stepping forward...
Jesus seized his arm and dragged him aside. "We need them, Gregory."
"We don't need anyone..."
"Yes, we do," Jesus hissed. "I saw their camp. It's a fortress. Enough firepower to wipe Hilltop off the map."
Gregory faltered. "Then why bring them here?"
"They already knew about us," Jesus said. "They've scouted everyone. Even the Saviors."
Gregory's face drained. "…That changes things. What do they want?"
Joe's voice cut in before Jesus could answer. "Intel. Base locations. Everything you know about the Saviors and the communities under them."
Gregory turned, tone suddenly deferential. "Would you come to my office, sir?"
Daryl smirked. "That's more like it."
Joe grinned. "Lead the way."
...
Gregory led Joe into a high-ceilinged office lined with bookshelves and a polished oak desk.
He motioned for Joe to sit. Joe didn't.
He stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, eyes locked on Gregory like a man measuring his prey.
Gregory cleared his throat, trying to reclaim the authority in his own house. "So… trade. That's how we survive. That's how we all survive. Hilltop can offer you produce, livestock, blacksmith work. In return..."
Joe cut him off. "Medicine. And information."
Gregory blinked. "Just medicine?"
"Medicine," Joe repeated, "and thirty cans of food. That's what you get."
Gregory forced a smile, leaning back in his chair. "That's… rather light, considering the scope of what you're asking. You want detailed intelligence on the Saviors and every community they've got under their thumb. That's priceless. Surely, we can adjust the terms."
Joe leaned forward, hands pressing against Gregory's desk, his scar catching the light.
His voice dropped like lead. "I won't adjust it. Medicine and thirty cans. Or nothing."
Gregory's smile faltered. He opened his mouth, then shut it again when he saw the look in Joe's eyes.
There was no negotiation here. No room to haggle. This was a man who didn't bluff.
Gregory exhaled through his nose and straightened his jacket. "Fine. Jesus will map out the bases. Every outpost we know. Every community forced to kneel."
Joe finally nodded, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. "Good. Then we have a deal."
Jesus, who had been standing in the corner, folded his arms and gave Joe a wary look.
He knew Gregory... he knew the man prided himself on manipulating every visitor who came through Hilltop.
But Joe hadn't given him an inch. And Gregory, for once, had bent.
Joe turned for the door.
Gregory asked carefully, "And… if the information leads you to something valuable?"
Joe stopped in the doorway, glanced back, and let a slow smile spread across his face. "Then Hilltop will be glad they had the sense to deal fairly with me."
And with that, Joe stepped out of the room.
...
Joe and Gregory descended from the office, Gregory pale but still carrying himself with the air of a man who thought he was in control.
He told Jesus curtly, "Get the maps. Every outpost, every drop point."
Before Jesus could answer, the front doors burst open.
A bloodied man stumbled inside, his voice shaking. "They're back."
Gregory hurried forward, Joe and his group trailing him, every one of them on edge.
Outside, a broad-shouldered man pushed through the gathering crowd.
Gregory called out, "Nathan. Where's Tim? Marsha?"
Nathan's face was grim. "They're dead."
Gregory's eyes narrowed. "Negan?"
Nathan nodded. "Yeah."
Gregory's voice turned sharp. "We had a deal."
Nathan barked, "They said it wasn't enough."
Gregory's jaw tightened. "The drop was light?"
Nathan snapped, "No."
From the crowd, a woman's voice cut in. "They still have Craig."
Nathan nodded, his hand flexing around the hilt of a knife hidden at his hip. "They said they'd return him alive... if I delivered a message."
Gregory leaned forward, oblivious. "Tell me."
Nathan's hand shot out, clamping Gregory's shoulder before plunging the blade deep into his stomach.
The square erupted in screams. Gregory staggered, clutching the wound, Glenn rushing to hold him up.
Joe didn't hesitate.
He barreled into Nathan, driving him backward. The man's size gave him leverage; he mounted Joe, shoving the knife down toward Joe's throat.
For a heartbeat, it looked like Nathan had him.
Then steel flashed.
Joe's blade plunged into Nathan's neck, straight through the carotid.
Blood fountained, hot and bright, splattering across Joe's face. Dripping down his chest, soaking his white shirt crimson.
Nathan choked, gurgled, and collapsed sideways, twitching as the life left him.
Joe stood, wiping his blade on his jeans, his scarred face painted red.
He looked like a monster born from the apocalypse itself. His eyes swept the crowd, unblinking.
"What?" he growled.
A man shouted, "You killed him!"
Joe scoffed, his voice cold. "And?"
A woman broke from the crowd, rushing at him with fury.
She swung, but Joe caught her wrist effortlessly, twisting and sweeping her legs. She hit the ground hard.
Her hand darted toward a knife... but before she could grab it, Tara stepped forward.
Pressing the barrel of her rifle against the woman's temple. "Don't."
Hilltop guards began to surge forward, weapons half-raised.
Immediately, Daryl, Glenn, Abraham, and Tara's muzzles snapped up, covering them.
The tension was razor-sharp, ready to snap into bloodshed.
Then Jesus stepped between them, palms raised. "Enough! This is done. Ethan was our friend, but don't lie to yourselves. He stabbed Gregory in front of all of you. Joe just stopped him."
The crowd's anger faltered, some nodding reluctantly. The Hilltop guards lowered their spears, though not without mutters and sidelong glares.
Harlan pushed through with his medical bag, dropping beside Gregory and working quickly to patch the wound.
Joe, still drenched in blood, exhaled hard and turned away. He glanced at Jesus. "The map. Now."
Jesus gave one last look at Gregory being lifted to a stretcher, then nodded grimly. "Let's go inside."
They went back into Barrington House, the door shutting out the anxious murmur of the community.