I would first like to say how good it feels to actually be able to write something. It's been, what? A year since my last update? And considering I churned this out in two days, means I haven't lost my touch. But I have lost interest in many of my muses. That's the way it goes, though.

Also, I would like to note that I know Jesus is gay. I know that he is gay in the comics, and I know that he will most definitely be gay in the television show. But guess what? I don't care! Paul Monroe is my favorite character in the comic books, and I don't write him straight because I'm homophobic, I write him straight because I want to. I don't want to hear any complaints, unless you honestly think my writing completely sucks.

The community was quiet behind its massive walls; a silence that was almost eerily uncomfortable. There were no sounds of the dead, no birds chirping in the surrounding trees. Only the rustle of the soft breeze passing through, and a symphony of crickets as the town slept peacefully.

This had always been her favorite time of day; a few hours before the sun would begin to make an appearance to the world. The stars were still shining, and a crescent moon was lingering in the sky like a smile without eyes. She took a moment to appreciate the simple fact that she was still alive, something that she never took for granted.

Alexandria was still new to her eyes, it was still hard for her to sleep peacefully in her new home. The adjustment had been challenging, and she usually took to the community's streets to settle her uneasy mind. It gave her time to think, to realize that she was safe; that this was reality. Sometimes she felt as if it would be ripped from her in an instant, and she would wake up from this dream. But as her feet walked the town's paved streets, it made it that much more permanent.

The playground was her halfway point. She would usually pass by- the empty swings creaking as the breeze lightly pushed them- and continue over to Baggerly Street. But this morning was different. This morning the swings weren't empty. A smile formed on her lips as she saw the occupant, slowly swinging back and forth, his feet not leaving the ground.

"I had a dream that the war wasn't over." He spoke softly. His eyes were fixed on the loose mulch underneath his feet. "There was no one left- just me, and a voice in the back of my head that said it was my fault. Everyone was dead; The Hilltop, Alexandria, you."

Her heart hurt for him; the man who deserved only the best that life could offer. She stood in front of him, the slow swing coming to a stop, and gently placed her index finger under his bearded chin. "The war is over, Paul." She could see his eyes soften at the use of his given name. In the time that she had known him, she had never said it until now. "We're here, and we're safe, and it's real."

"Where is your jacket?" He asked, changing the subject; his eyes canvased her exposed skin. "Aren't you cold?"

She turned her back to him and shook her head. "I'll be okay."

That wasn't good enough for him, and a part of her hoped it. Seconds later, she felt warm leather cover her bare shoulders. His coat smelled like evergreen and comfort. When she turned to look at him, he was rolling down his sleeves. Something so innocent, but made her heart flutter like a hummingbird's wings.

"May I accompany you on the walk back?" He asked her. His ocean blue eyes swirled in the moonlight.

A smile adorned her lips. "Jesus, we live in the same house."

Every time their arms accidentally touched she felt a shiver over her entire body. She longed to be closer, she had ever since he brought her back with him that night. The feeling only grew with each day that passed. So much so, that it became more of a curse than a blessing to live in the same house. After all, he was Jesus, and she was just complicated.

"Thank you," she said as he held the door open for her.

He clicked the lock behind them, despite the community being completely safe. He said one night to her, 'safe is an illusion in this world, but I'll do everything I can to make sure you feel like you are'. She smiled at the memory as she hung his trench coat on the hanger.

"What?" He asked, pulling off his boots.

"Just the fact that you lock the door. Rick doesn't even lock his door." She laughed.

He frowned, "I told you-"

"I know," her laugh didn't last long when she saw that ever-permanent serious look plague his face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed." Now she felt disappointed with herself, like she had hurt his feelings, which is something she would never dream of doing.

"You don't need to apologize," he reassured her. "Goodnight."

She gave him a smile before he disappeared up the stairs and down the hall. Then she cursed herself for being so stupid, and ruining every chance she could possibly get. After fixing herself a glass of water, she followed up the stairs, only retreating down the opposite end of the hall.

Sleep would continue to avoid her, though. After thirty minutes, after an hour. She tossed and turned, searching for the comfortable spot where she could sink off into her dreams. But it never came. Instead she thought of the past, she thought of her life before, and her life after. She thought of Jesus, and she thought of him. She threw the covers from her body and slung her feet off the edge of the bed. They brought her to the door, and when she opened it, she was faced with his at the end of the hall.

After an additional twenty or so minutes of pacing, she finally gathered the courage to knock. "It's open," she heard from the other side. A sigh of relief escaped her lips knowing that he was still awake. And then panic that maybe she was being too bold.

"Paul," she creaked his door open slowly. He was stretched out on his bed, a book in his hands. "This might seem like a crazy request, but could I possibly sleep with you? I can't sleep. At all. I mean, it's okay if you say no, I'll just go somewhere else." Her voice trailed off after she realized she was talking too much.

A smile settled on his lips. "Please," he replied softly with a motion to the empty side of his bed. She was shocked that he would say yes, but she played it off smoothly as she slipped underneath his warm comforter. "How long did you practice asking that in the hallway?" He joked.

"Practice?" She asked slyly. "I don't need to practice."

His smirk was hidden from her, as her head rested on his chest. A tired 'thank you' escaped her lips moments before she dozed off, having found the comfort that she was searching for.

Part one of two, down.

The musical inspiration for this chapter is:

1. Angel by Koda

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