Gunfire cracked through the night, echoing between the burning buildings of Woodbury.
The Governor staggered through the shadows, clutching his bleeding stomach with one hand, his pistol gripped tight in the other.
Every step was a struggle. Joe's bullets had torn through him, and the heat of the fires around him made his vision swim.
He ducked behind a half-collapsed wall as more rounds tore into the brick above his head.
T-Dog's voice carried over the chaos, "You're not gettin' out of here alive!"
The Governor snarled under his breath, forcing himself to keep moving.
He darted across an alley, barely managing to stay on his feet, and rounded a corner.
He spotted Leroy sprinting ahead of him, panicked and alone.
The Governor's survival instincts kicked in.
He lunged forward despite the pain, caught up to Leroy, and swept his legs out from under him.
Leroy hit the ground with a yelp, eyes wide in confusion.
"Stay down," the Governor hissed, shoving him flat before ducking into the smoldering remains of a nearby building.
Through a shattered window, he watched Leroy struggle back to his feet, waving frantically... just as Glenn and T-Dog appeared at the other end of the street.
"Wait!" Leroy shouted.
The Governor's expression twisted in cold contempt. Idiot.
Gunfire erupted. Leroy's body jerked violently as bullets tore through him.
He crumpled to the ground, lifeless, and seconds later Glenn and T-Dog reached him.
They confirmed the kill, then much to the Governor's grim satisfaction, severed his head.
"Got him," T-Dog said. "Let's get back to Joe."
The Governor remained perfectly still until their footsteps faded, only then emerging from the wreckage.
...
He stumbled into the street, the heat from the flames licking at his skin.
His jacket had caught fire, and he dropped to his knees, rolling frantically until the flames went out.
The smell of burnt fabric and scorched flesh filled his nose, nearly making him gag.
For a long moment, he lay on the ground, gasping for air, staring up at the smoke-filled sky.
Pain radiated from his wounds, but rage burned hotter.
With a guttural groan, he forced himself upright. "You'll pay for this," he muttered, his voice low and venomous. "All of you."
He limped through the gates of the dying town, leaving behind the ashes of Woodbury.
Each step took him further into the wilderness, away from the empire he'd built, but his mind was already working... planning, plotting his revenge.
This wasn't the end. Not for him.
...
Days bled into one another as he trudged down empty backroads.
His jacket hung in tatters, his steps slow and uneven.
He survived on rainwater and whatever scraps he could scavenge, narrowly avoiding a few walkers he didn't have the strength to fight.
By the time he reached Molena a week later, he was more dead than alive.
His skin was gray with fever, his wounds festering. It was a miracle that no walker had dragged him down during his journey.
He staggered down the cracked pavement of Main Street, vision tunneling.
And then he saw her.
Penny.
She stood in a window of a tall, crumbling apartment complex, blonde hair catching the afternoon light.
His breath caught, and for a moment he felt strength flood back into his broken body.
"Penny…" he croaked, forcing his legs to move.
As he drew closer, the figure in the window shifted, Penny's image fading to reveal a small brown-haired girl.
The illusion had broken, but the Governor pushed on, determined to reach the building before his body failed completely.
...
He reached the shattered front entrance and stepped inside.
Broken glass crunched under his boots as he limped across the lobby, his breath rasping loud in the stillness.
Groans came faintly from some of the apartments, but he ignored them, heading for the stairwell.
One step at a time, he climbed, dragging himself to the floor where he'd seen the girl.
His boots thudded heavily as he approached a door at the far end of the hall.
It swung open suddenly.
A young woman stood in the doorway, dark hair pulled back, a bat gripped in one hand.
Behind her, a little girl peeked out, clutching a stuffed animal. "What do you want?" the woman demanded, her voice sharp with fear.
Another woman appeared beside her, leveling a pistol at his chest. "Tell us!"
The Governor swayed on his feet, eyes locking on the child. For an instant, Penny's face replaced hers, and his resolve crumbled.
He opened his mouth to speak, but only a faint, broken breath escaped.
Then his legs gave out, and he collapsed face-first on the hall's dirty carpet.
...
The two women, Tara and Lilly, exchanged stunned looks.
"Help me drag him in," Lilly said.
They hauled the unconscious man into the living room, laying him on the threadbare carpet.
Tara frisked him quickly, finding a pistol and a knife, both of which she set on the counter, out of his reach.
"No bites," Lilly confirmed after checking him over, though what she found wasn't much better.
Severe burns, gunshot wounds, and a raging fever. "He's septic," she muttered, her nurse training kicking in. "We need to start antibiotics now."
Tara fetched a small bottle of leftover medication from when their father had pneumonia.
Lilly crushed a tablet, mixed it with water, and forced it past the man's lips, coaxing his throat to swallow.
He coughed violently but stayed unconscious.
Lilly dressed his wounds with strips of torn sheets, working methodically despite the uncertainty gnawing at her.
On the couch, Megan sat in her grandfather's lap, clutching her stuffed rabbit, watching silently as the stranger was patched up.
When Lilly was done, she sat back with a weary sigh. "Now, we wait."
Tara kept an eye on the man as they returned to the board game they'd been playing before.
The rattle of dice a fragile reminder of normalcy in a broken world.
On their floor lay the man who had caused the end of Woodbury, the community burnt to the ground.
He dreamt fevered dreams of revenge and of a daughter long gone.
...
Two Days Later.
The Governor's eyes snapped open to a dimly lit apartment.
For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. Then the pain in his stomach and chest brought it back in waves.
He sat up slowly, groaning, his hands patting down his body in a frantic search until his fingers brushed the folded photograph in his jacket pocket.
He closed his eyes briefly, relief washing over him.
A soft rustle caught his attention... Tara, sitting in a chair by the door, lowered the book she'd been reading and quickly aimed her pistol at him.
"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply, her tone as cold as her aim.
The Governor... no, Brian, ignored her question. His eyes scanning the room.
He spotted Megan hiding behind her grandfather on the couch, eyes wide.
Lilly appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a rag, her face tightening when she saw him awake.
"My sister asked you a question," she demanded, stepping forward.
Brian finally spoke, his voice hoarse but steady. "My camp was destroyed. I barely made it out alive."
Tara arched a brow. "You look like you barely made it out."
He didn't respond, simply kept scanning the room as if cataloging every detail.
"How?" Lilly asked after a pause.
"Another community," he said flatly. "They attacked us. Killed all our soldiers. Took the rest."
Lilly and Tara exchanged startled glances, the weight of his words hitting them.
"I can't believe it," Lilly murmured. "We've been holed up here waiting for the National Guard..."
"Since the shit hit the fan," Tara cut in.
"Tara!" Lilly snapped, glancing at Megan.
"Since the crap hit the fan," Tara amended, rolling her eyes. "Which it did. Spread everywhere."
Lilly turned back to Brian. "Are you staying in the building?"
He shook his head. "Just the night."
"You need to take care of those wounds better," Lilly said firmly. "You almost died."
Brian said nothing, simply sat there in silence.
"You got a name?" Tara pressed.
The Governor stood, limping toward the door. "Brian Harriot."
He opened it, ready to leave, but felt a gentle tug on his arm. Lilly handed him a small pill bottle and a bowl of SpaghettiOs.
"Here. For the infection," she said softly.
He took them with a quiet, "Thank you," before stepping out and limping down the hallway.
...
Brian cleared an apartment for himself down the hall.
A lone walker staggered out from a back room, but he kicked its leg out, dropping it to the floor before stomping its skull without hesitation.
He found an old couch in the living room and collapsed onto it, spooning up the SpaghettiOs slowly, savoring the first hot meal he'd had in weeks.
When he finished, he swallowed one of the antibiotics Lilly had given him and leaned back with a groan, closing his eyes briefly.
After a moment, he pushed himself up again, carrying the empty bowl back to the family's apartment.
He crouched to place it by the door, but before he could turn away, Tara yanked the door open.
"This ain't the Holiday Inn, Brian. Wash your own dish. Kitchen's over there."
Brian straightened with a grunt and stepped inside.
Lilly glanced up from where she was helping her father, David, sip from a cup. "Sorry," she said to Brian. "Get enough to eat?"
He nodded once, silent as always.
David suddenly coughed harshly, setting the bowl aside. "I'll get you some coffee," Lilly said, rising. "Sit down... right there," she ordered Brian, pointing to the couch.
Brian sat, his gaze drifting to Megan and her grandfather playing backgammon on the coffee table.
His reflection stared back at him from the blank TV screen, hollow-eyed, scarred, barely human.
"Got a cigarette?" David asked suddenly.
Lilly's voice snapped from the kitchen, "You don't see that red sticker on your oxygen tank? I'm not gonna let you blow up the apartment."
David muttered, "It's all the same. Don't be talkin' like that. It's just a cigarette."
Lilly sighed as she returned with a steaming cup, handing it to Brian before settling beside him.
Tara flopped onto his other side with a bowl of pepperoni.
"Help yourself," Tara offered, still testing him. "We got tons of pepperoni. You see that truck out front?"
Brian nodded faintly.
"Dad used to drive for them," Lilly said, her voice softening slightly. "At the beginning, he was just leaving for a delivery. He turned back, picked up Megan from school, picked me up from the hospital, and Tara from the police academy."
"Lucky us, I guess," Tara added with a smirk.
David called softly, "Meg, Granddad needs a break."
"Lilly?" he called again.
She and Tara moved to help him up, struggling to lift his frail frame.
"Little help here, big guy?" Tara asked, glancing at Brian.
Brian stood with a grunt, limping over.
Tara said, "One, two—"
He scooped David up in his arms as though he weighed nothing, despite his own injuries.
Shocking Tara, She stopped when she realizing she didn't need to count.
Lilly's eyes flicked to him, surprised.
"Lead the way," he said simply.
Brian followed David's direction, carrying the old man with careful strength down the hall to his bedroom.
For the first time since they'd found him, Tara and Lilly exchanged a look... not of suspicion, but of tentative trust.
...
David's cough rattled the quiet of the apartment that evening.
When Brian returned with the polished, walnut-and-brass backgammon set, David's tired eyes brightened for the first time in days.
"Well, I'll be damned," David rasped, reaching out a shaky hand. Brian clasped it firmly, wordlessly.
"Thank you," David said sincerely.
Lilly stepped forward, her smile soft and warm. "You didn't have to do that," she said, almost affectionately.
Brian only nodded once, before retreating to his cleared apartment.
That night, he sat on the couch staring at a faded photograph of Megan and Sharon, his own daughter.
His thumb traced over Penny's smile as exhaustion finally dragged him into sleep.
...
Sunlight slanted through the cracked blinds when Lilly entered quietly the next morning, intending to check his bandages.
She stopped short at the sight of the photo resting on his chest.
Brian stirred, instantly awake. He sat up quickly, snatching the picture and tucking it into his jacket.
"I didn't mean to pry," Lilly said softly.
She picked up his pistol from the counter and offered it to him. "You should keep this. It's yours."
Brian shook his head. "You hold onto it."
She frowned. "It's your only gun."
He reached to his belt, revealing a sturdy revolver. "I have this."
Lilly's brows rose, her face scrunching. "Really…"
"I found it upstairs," he explained. "Your sister shot a walker in the chest. You have to hit the head."
Lilly tilted her head. "Why?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
There was a pause, then Lilly spoke again, her voice hesitant. "My father… he has stage four lung cancer. His oxygen's running out. I know you've done so much for us already, but… would you try to get him more? There's an old folks' home down the road."
Brian looked at her for a long moment, then simply nodded. "I'll go."
...
The building reeked of death.
Brian moved slowly, careful with every step, his injuries screaming in protest.
He found the oxygen tanks in a storage closet, but as he turned to leave, a walker lurched out from behind a curtain.
It was an old woman in a tattered hospital gown, jaw slack and teeth bared.
Brian's reaction was sluggish, but precise.
He sidestepped, slammed her into the wall, and drove his knife through her temple.
His side burned with the effort, but he didn't stop until he was back on the street, an oxygen tank strapped to his back.
...
Lilly's eyes widened in relief when he walked through the door, battered but alive. "You did it," she breathed.
She noticed the fresh cuts on his arms and motioned for him to sit in the bathroom.
"Let me patch you up," she said firmly.
Brian obeyed, sitting on the edge of the tub as she cleaned and dressed the wounds.
Halfway through, Megan toddled in, clutching her stuffed rabbit.
"Mama?"
Lilly smiled reassuringly. "Everything's okay, honey. Brian just got a boo-boo that needs cleaning. Stay with him for me while I get the ointment."
When she left, Megan climbed onto the closed toilet lid and studied him with wide, curious eyes. "What happened to your eye?"
Brian looked at her, then said simply, "It's gone."
"Did something happen to you?" Megan asked, "Or were you born like that?"
"Something happened," he answered quietly.
"Was that bad to ask?" she asked nervously.
"No," Brian said, softening. "I'll tell you what happened, but you gotta keep it a secret."
Megan's face lit up. "I promise!" She stuck out her pinky.
Brian linked his with hers. "Well," he said gravely, "I'm a pirate."
Megan giggled. "No way."
Brian chuckled too. "You caught me. What really happened is… I was trying to stop someone from getting hurt."
Her smile faded. "But you got hurt instead. Did they get hurt too?"
Brian's eyes darkened briefly. "Yeah."
"I'm sorry," Megan said softly.
Brian gave her a faint, almost wistful smile. "Me too."
...
Time dulled his wounds, though scars remained.
With Tara's teasing remark about his scruffy beard still echoing in his ears, Brian shaved it off one morning.
The change was startling. He looked younger, cleaner... almost like a different man.
Over the weeks, he settled into the family's rhythm. He fixed broken locks and scavenged food.
He taught Tara how to aim properly, and read Megan bedtime stories when Lilly was too tired.
But the peace couldn't last.
...
Brian woke to sharp cracks of gunfire. Heart pounding, he grabbed his revolver and rushed into Lilly's apartment.
Inside, chaos reigned. David... once frail, now a snarling walker, was lunging toward Megan.
Tara screamed, firing her pistol until the slide locked back, brass casings littering the carpet.
Brian didn't hesitate. He drew his M67 revolver and fired once, the heavy round obliterating David's skull mid-lunge.
Silence followed, deafening in its finality.
Megan sobbed in Lilly's arms as Tara stared at her father's twitching corpse, face pale.
Brian didn't speak. He simply wrapped the body in a sheet and carried it outside into the night.
...
At dawn, they buried what remained in a shallow grave.
Lilly helped lower the wrapped body while Tara stood watch, her face stone-hard but her hands trembling.
Brian shoveled the dirt back over, each thud final and heavy.
When they returned to the apartment, Megan shrank behind Lilly, refusing to meet Brian's eyes.
"I'm sorry," Brian said quietly, his voice rough.
Tara glanced at him, then at Megan, before saying, "I've been thinking… He would've been thankful. You stopped him from hurting us."
Brian looked at her, silent, but nodded once.
"We're cool," Tara said simply, offering a fist.
He hesitated, then tapped his knuckles against hers. Without another word, he left the apartment.
...
That night, Brian stood outside Lilly's door, pack slung over his shoulder. She opened it to find him ready to leave.
"Goodbye," he said, turning to walk down the hall.
"Wait."
He stopped, glancing back.
"We're coming with you," Lilly said firmly. "There has to be somewhere better. Somewhere safe."
"Lilly…" he began.
She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "You had a family. I know we're not them. But for now? You're stuck with us. You owe me."
"I can't," he replied, the words almost a plea.
"You already have," she countered softly.
Brian stared at her for a long moment, then sighed, lowering his pack to the floor.
...
The next morning, they left the apartment for good.
Their truck broke down two towns over, leaving them to travel on foot.
Megan lagged constantly, her small legs struggling to keep up. When a walker burst from the trees and nearly dragged her down.
Brian was at her side in seconds... grabbing the creature by the neck and splitting its skull with his revolver's butt.
Megan clung to him after that, silent but trusting.
...
Days turned into weeks, and somewhere along the road, they encountered remnants of his old Woodbury regime.
Men who still remembered "The Governor" but had a new leader.
Brian said little of his past, but as they traveled, he began to take control again.
His decisiveness, his ruthlessness when needed, drew them in.
By the time spring turned to summer, he wasn't just "Brian" anymore. He was the leader of a growing group... a group that followed without question.
...
And when he felt the group was strong enough he sent scouts. They brought back word of the prisons condition.
Housing the survivors of the community that had destroyed him, taken everything from him.
Brian... The Governor once more, knew exactly what he had to do.
Revenge wasn't just an option.
It was destiny.