There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space, and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge...

Chapter 1 - Weary and Beaten

All out Civil War, localized in this small part of Virginia, was fully underway. The old world ended, but the evil that men do remained. Negan aimed to rule this new world in old world style. Like all tyrants from times past, the loss of life didn't matter – only compliant bootlicking would be tolerated. When Rick rose from his knees, no longer able to bow down, he knew the losses would be significant. He could only hope that the casualties for his group would not be too high, though current events did not bode well for his confidence.

It had been three weeks since the start of the war – since the fight in Alexandria. The battle had been difficult especially once Rick and his team realized that the junk yard group had made a deal with Negan. Jadis shot him without regard. He almost lost Michonne. They lost Sasha. It was a day that he would rather forget. There were many days he would like to forget. From the time he woke up in the hospital, life was nothing more than surviving one impediment just to be thrust into another. The setbacks were mushrooming.

"Dad—are you sure you don't want me to go with you guys?" Carl asked his father while shifting his little sister to his other arm.

"I'm sure Carl," Rick replied while leaning over to kiss his daughter. "You need to stay here and watch your sister. You need to stay here and remain vigilant."

Planning for the next battle had been arduous. Rick made sure that Alexandria was never left without some of its best fighters to defend it should Negan do a sneak attack. When he set up the meeting away from Alexandria, he left Tara, Aaron and Gabriel behind to protect their dwindling community.

"Gabriel can watch Judith…" Carl said while his father was saying his good-bye to the youngest Grimes, "…you might need me."

"I need you here—this is just a planning meeting, and we shouldn't all be out there—it's too dangerous." He said without compunction.

Rick shook his head at the thought that this is the world his children would grow up in - if they do grow up. He swore to protect Carl; to protect Judith. But in the quiet recesses of his mind – the words reverberated loudly - you can't protect them. The proof was insurmountable. It was out of his hands. He talked a good game but the game— the real game— was run by Negan. Even with that truth, he would still fight until he could fight no longer.

"Okay dad." He said, returning his dads hug and kiss. This was not the time to argue with his father.

xxxxxx

Rick, Michonne, Carol, Rosita, Daryl, and Maggie were preparing to meet at an abandoned warehouse between the Hilltop and Alexandria. Carol would travel from the Kingdom, and Maggie from the Hilltop.

Ezekiel had not quite recovered from Richard's double-dealing, which led to the death of his young protégé Benjamin. He decided not to leave the Kingdom without leadership with the impending war. Morgan also remained at the Kingdom, continuing to impart his knowledge of Aikido, and train the residents in successful fighting techniques using a staff.

Jesus, much like Morgan, was working with the Hilltop residents on hand-to-hand combat and martial arts; neither he nor Maggie had any faith in Gregory's ability to keep anyone in the community safe – not even himself.

Maggie, still reeling from losing Sasha, decided to go to the meeting place alone. She didn't have much time these days to be alone with her thoughts…to be alone with her thoughts of him. Her beloved husband…her friend. She would stay strong; help lead the Hilltop and it's alliances to victory. No time to sulk. No time to wallow in self pity and doubt. No time to truly recover.

But, the drive to the warehouse – alone – was her time. This would be her time to let out the tears. To scream to the heavens. To finally release her sorrow.

xxxxxx

Rick, Michonne, Rosita and Daryl road in silence. The abandoned warehouse was about thirty miles away from Alexandria. Rick was the driver- he looked over at her. Michonne was always his co-pilot - literally and figuratively - He drew strength from her -maybe too much. He could tell that she was worried. He could see the distress on her face.

The bruises that she'd sustained during her fight with the large – now deceased – woman from Jadis' group, were barely noticeable. He began to be more worried about the bruises manifesting in her spirit – the ones that weren't visible. Those are the ones that don't heal nearly as fast as the ones that everyone can see.

Rick Reached over and touched her hand to get her attention, she looked over at him with very wary eyes. She looked like she had aged a few years over the last few weeks.

He couldn't forget her words when she was first released from the infirmary…

"I trusted that woman. I convinced you to fight. We put all our eggs into the basket of a woman who's just as sick as a man we're fighting—I feel like I'm becoming consumed with hate Rick—I know that hate won't help as we move into this—but I feel that I'm consumed with it. I don't know if I have anything left…"

"How are you feeling?" he asked with compassion in his eyes.

The double-cross of Jadis and her group had been a horrible blow to them all, but it seemed to have hurt her in a way that he was not prepared for. She looks so worn out - almost defeated. The enthusiasm that she usually had; the buoyancy that kept him going, seemed depleted...maybe even gone.

"I feel okay," she responded not looking directly into his eyes. "I'm just so tired, and I want this to be over," she responded quietly.

Rick looked at her. Her optimism was waning and the light that came through her - giving him strength - was growing dim.

"And how are you feeling—you were the one that got shot remember?" She gave him a slight smile.

Ignoring her casual attempt at levity, "Maybe you should've stayed back home with Carl and Judith."

"They'll be fine with Olivi—I mean Tara," she corrected - instant realization of everyone and everything that they'd lost - she turned her head and once again faced the window. A storm was approaching.

Except for the few wandering walkers on the road, it almost looked like an old world car ride along a country road; a leisurely drive with her boyfriend. It almost could have been a regular carefree day. Except…it wasn't.

xxxxxx

"How did y'all find this place?" Daryl asked from the back seat as they approached the warehouse.

Rick glanced through the rearview mirror at his two friends. Daryl was sitting behind Michonne and he could see that look of wariness and defeat - the same one that Michonne had.

Rick had observed many looks on Daryl's face throughout their friendship – brotherhood – many times. The look on his face when Rick left Merle on the rooftop, just to go back and find that he was gone, was unadulterated anger. Compliance was the look he wore when the farm was overrun and Rick took his first official stand as leader. When Joe attacked them on the road and they later escaped terminus, he had the face of determination.

Aaron had said that Daryl could tell the difference between "a good guy and a bad guy." Daryl was a good guy…Rick knew he was…Glenn knew he was…but then…

Negan took him. Glenn and Abraham were killed. The look on his face, in his eyes, was different. Something was gone from him. He blamed himself for Glen and Abraham – even Denise. He was lost, more than when they first met. In spite of the surly disposition of the tracker, there was always an inherent kindness that existed within him. At the prison it came through like any light that finds its way through even the smallest crack. That kindness seemed to be gone now – replaced with what?

"Abe told me about it a couple of months ago—he came across it on a run." Rosita responded.

"Well, don't seem like there's a buncha' walkers. I guess it's as good a place as any," Daryl deadpanned.

xxxxxx

Rick pulled into a parking area behind the warehouse. The car would not be seen from the road. He noticed a blue Toyota Camry also parked. All four passengers looked over to the car and saw Carol sitting in the front seat. A casual observer would assume that she was lackadaisically inattentive. However, they all knew Carol well enough to know that she was not just on the lookout for all signs of possible danger; she was stealthily skilled and deadly.

Carol had been struggling with inner turmoil for a while. There was a time when she was determined to ensure the safety of her friends and de facto-family – no matter the cost. She did what she had to do to Karen and David at the prison; she had to protect everyone. She took care of Lizzy because she had to - Terminus - the Wolves. Somewhere along the way she'd lost who she was…who she used to be.

She evolved from meek and defenseless to a pragmatic murderer.

Then Morgan showed up. He was without a doubt her 'ideological nemesis.' He challenged the certainty of her recent actions. If he was right, then what did all of the choices she'd made mean about her. It makes perfect sense to strongly dislike – even hate – someone who had made the choice to do something that you weren't able or willing to do yourself; holding on to their conviction in the face of naysayers. It was easier to hold Morgan in contempt, than admit that he could be right.

Walking away from it all was – her only choice?

She sat in the car, waiting for her friends. There was no longer time to vacillate between what was right and what was wrong – what she could do and could not. This was a war that she couldn't sit by and just watch. The doubts – consternation – had finally been safely stored away.

She willingly walked back – it was her only choice.

Everyone exited the car and walked over to Carol. Daryl walked up to Carol and gave her a hug - followed by Michonne and then Rick.

xxxxxx

"How are you?" Daryl asked his friend; taking note of her appearance. She seemed in better spirits since the bloody clash in Alexandria. Daryl had been concerned that, taking her at her word, if she had to kill again – there won't be anything of me left. But today she seemed OK.

"I'm good," she responded, "I can do this," she answered the question that he didn't ask.

Rosita stood back surveying the area. Just then another car approached and pulled into the nearly deserted lot. The group could see immediately that it was Maggie. She pulled her car next to the building then exited the vehicle. Michonne made haste to Maggie and grabbed her in an embrace. Neither woman allowed the tears that were stinging their eyes to fall. They let go of each other, sniffed, and smiled softly. Carol took Maggie into her arms.

The group of survivors began their walk towards the abandoned warehouse. Rosita was carrying the short wave radio that Eugene had repaired some weeks back.

"Have y'all notice the sky?" Maggie inquired glancing up at the darkening sky. I don't think I've ever seen that color in the sky before.

The group took note of the unusually beautiful color. There was purple and gray and just the right amount of moon light coming through the purple haze. With everything going on it was not unusual for them to not notice the sky. When death and destruction is all around, taking note of simple beauties that still existed was rare.

"Yeah, I was looking at that too," Rosita responded.

"Looks like a damn storm is on its way, we need to hurry and get this taken care of." Daryl concluded eyeballing the sky's odd hue.

The sound of the vehicles had alerted the nearby walkers. Five walkers ambled towards the group. Michonne and Rosita were the first to react.

"We got this," Rosita said, seeing that Michonne had already headed towards the unwelcome visitors.

The women looked at each other. Killing walkers had become so commonplace. It was a part of their existence. It was the part of their existence that they somewhat relied on - depended on for normality. It was an odd sense of relief. Killing walkers was something they could control. It didn't require much thought. It was something that was easy to do – yes it was the new normal.

The war with Negan was the antithesis of control or normality. It would not be easy. So for this moment in time, the normality of flicking the brain matter off her katana – from a man who was once a farmer, store clerk, father –he was something once upon a time- was comforting. It actually felt good because it lacked chaos. Over the last several weeks there was a steady stream of chaos. Very few things were in her control.

She couldn't even control who came in and out of her home. She slept on the floor because a psychopath with a vendetta took her mattress for the sole purpose of burning it. Her anger was something that she knew would get her killed but she had sunk so deep into it, right now it was keeping her warm.

xxxxxx

The approaching storm was almost identical to the mood of the group. No one spoke much as they entered the warehouse. They noticed that most of the windows had been boarded up. It was obvious that at some point someone, or some people, attempted to survive in the warehouse. They sat the short wave radio down on an old cracked wooden table that sat in the middle of the abandoned room.

"Let's check this place out before we get started," Rick instructed.

The group spread out looking for any signs of danger.

Rick walked over to Michonne. He came alongside her and ran his hand along her back. She turned to face him.

"I think you should've stayed home baby— you just seem so tired. Taking out those walkers right now is the first time I've seen you—like yourself—in a while." He cocked his head to the side as he took her hand and offered a little smile.

"I am tired, but nobody gets to sit this out. This isn't the time to stay back and relax—there are too many things we have to do—too many things that can go wrong."

"I know but—"

"There's no but Rick. We've lost too much— we have to end this." she snapped, moving away from his grasp.

"I'm sorry." He offered, rubbing her back gently.

"The place looks clear to me!" Daryl shouted from the other side of the warehouse.

xxxxxx

With Glenn, Abraham… and now Sasha gone, he had already lost not just three of their best fighters, but three of his most trusted confidantes - how can we come back from this. Rick looked at the faces of his friends. He did trust Gabriel, Jesus, Aaron and a few others, but his undying trust would always lie with the people in the room with him presently. These were his remaining family members. Even though they were not at their best, they were still the best fighters he knew, and he was proud to go into battle with them.

Truthfully, he didn't really know any of the people that he now considered his family. Their past was a mystery that he never attempted to investigate. All that mattered was moving forward. No talk about family from the old world – because that no longer had value in this world. Old professions and credit ratings had no value today. The friends of yesteryear didn't matter. There wasn't much discussion about feelings or desires; the only thing that mattered was survival.

They spent the next fifteen minutes combing through every nook and cranny of the warehouse. Once they were sure that there were no walkers, or Saviors for that matter, Rick began to go over the plan to take down Negan, Jadis, and any other unknown alliances the psychotic leader had amassed.

"I had to scrap some of our initial plans—because most of it came from Eugene, and now that he is clearly not with us any longer, I think it's best to devise a new plan." Rick advised without looking into the faces of his team. Just hearing Eugene's name made an already somber mood that much worse. Everyone in the room had a mix of both sadness and anger.

"I can't believe that son-of-a-bitch," Rosita said looking at the group; "If I ever get close to him again—he's dead." she stated cryptically.

Of all the people currently in the warehouse, Rosita was visibly the angriest. Everyone in the room had lost friends and family, but Rosita's hurt was much deeper. She had not only lost those she cared about…she was betrayed by those she cared about.

"He was just scared Rosita," Carol said to the angry warrior, "everything he ever did was because he was scared. He roped you guys into taking care of him—because he was scared. He didn't know how to survive on his own—so he convinced you guys to take care of him. Now, Negan's given him some kind of authority, so he doesn't have to be as—scared." She said facing Rosita as the others grew silent.

"Are you trying to excuse what he did?" Rosita questioned, growing more agitated.

"No I'm not excusing it—I'm just saying that in this world, people do what they have to do to survive. He's weak, and we always knew he was weak." The gray haired woman said, utilizing the plastic smile she'd become accustomed to wearing.

"He just better keep his scared weak ass away from me— because I guarantee you the next time we meet, he won't be walking away," she said as she turned to walk towards the other side of the warehouse.

Rosita was still seething. She had opened herself up only to be rewarded with betrayal. First Abe leaves her. In the middle of hell on earth, he leaves her; barely a word of explanation and without regret – he dumps her. Their relationship seemed to mean nothing to him.

"Just because we slept with the same dead guy doesn't mean we're friends…" She had said. But that wasn't true. Rosita did consider Sasha her friend. She spent a lot of time worrying about the curly haired survivor when the group first arrived in Alexandria. She went out of her way for her. She cared. She really did care. Abe and Sasha together…their betrayal cut threw her like a rusty knife - leaving the disease of bitterness behind. Now she was ready to go.

She tried to end it, but that resulted in Olivia's death. Then there was Spencer's betrayal…

Spencer was never more than just a warm bed, but it still hurt that he would betray Rick and the other residents of Alexandria. She didn't cry much for Spencer - it only increased her anger.

The final betrayal – the one she couldn't get a handle on, was Eugene. They had sacrificed to keep him alive. Even after the truth was revealed, she still stuck by him. Abe had stuck by him. She thought he was a friend...even family. His betrayal hurt more than anyone's.

"We need to get this shit done Rick," Daryl chimed in, "before the storm hits."

"Daryl's right Rick," Maggie added while walking closer to the others, "what do you have planned?" Her eyes fell on their bearded leader.

"We lost a lot of guns to Jadis' people, and I don't know if we'll have time to recover more. So we're gonna have to use thangs other than guns – he paused and looked over at Rosita to give her time to rejoin the group currently huddled around the small worn table - "Jesus is very inventive, and slippery—I think he can help get us some more Intel so we can figure out the best way to get to Negan." Rick said.

The group stood around the table discussing the best way to infiltrate the Saviors and the junkyard group. The thunder shook them out of their current tête-à-tête.

xxxxxx

Rick looked at Rosita. Her anger was going to probably get her killed. She had become unhinged. He knew the signs better than anyone. After Lori died he didn't just become unhinged, he was severely mentally unstable. Coming back from that seemed nearly impossible. It was impossible alone. Hershel was the beacon of wisdom that he needed. Carl was there looking to him for guidance. Everyone was looking to him for guidance. And then there was Judith.

No—he didn't make it back to this side of sanity without a lot of help. He had responsibilities. They were his life raft. He made his way back because he had to. But, he had no idea how to help Rosita. Who or what was her life raft?

She was working hard at what could only be considered a death wish. She wanted to kill Negan more than she wanted to live. Her actions got Olivia killed…Eugene taken. Then Eugene turned his back on them.

Rick figured that that was probably when her desire to die became stronger than her desire to live. It was the final nail in a coffin that she had been crafting for quite a while. It was just a matter of time. Rick really didn't know Rosita. He wasn't sure how to appeal to the part of her that still cared about something. He knew his other family members better – somewhat – but he wasn't sure how to help them either; how to feed their increasingly barren souls. He could just continue talk a good game.

xxxxxx

The booming thunder nearly shook the room. The group, who had come up against psychotics, cannibals, and all the evil that exists in human nature, including The Walking Dead, was visibly shaken by the vociferous storm.

"Sounds like it's gonna be bad," Carol said.

"Yeah," they all agreed, "we probably better get going." Maggie chimed in.

"I'm not sure if it's gonna be safe to drive back," Michonne interjected glancing up at the windows.

While the group took in Michonne's words, the thunder grumbled again. The lightning struck – closer.

Rick walked over to Michonne and placed his hands on her arm.

"You okay baby?" he asked noticing the look on her face.

"I'm okay," she answered, "it just feels weird."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thang," Rick agreed.

More thunder shook and almost instantaneously the lightning - this time brighter and closer - struck.

Maggie looked over to Rick then to Daryl, "What do you think we need to do," she asked to neither man in particular.

"I think we need to stay here until this electrical storm passes," Daryl answered looking frustrated and tired.

Loud static came out of the radio causing everyone to jump; they all looked over at the radio. The ridiculousness of being startled by static, after all their morbid adventures over the past few years, was not lost on any of the survivors. For the first time in weeks, they all laughed.

"That was some weird shit," Rosita said laughing but not quite as gregariously as her comrades.

The storm rumbled louder and the lightning struck instantaneously. Both static and broken voices came from the radio.

The group was looking up at the windows that lined the upper walls of the warehouse. They were able to see the sky and the darkness suddenly shrouding the building.

"This storm is weird." Rosita stated.

"What's so weird about it?" Daryl asked.

"Because sound travels slower than light—so usually you see the lightning then you hear the thunder. But we keep hearing the thunder then seeing the lightning—almost like the two aren't connected—plus there's no rain."

"You're right—it's weird," Carol interjected.

"Well all I know is we need to stay in here until whenever the hell this is passes." Rick said.

Michonne moved closer to Rick. They looked at each other and interlaced their fingers.

"Let's hunker down over there," Rick stated, pointing to an empty area of the room, "there's no windows over there—so it's probably safer."

The room lit up again with translucent blue and yellow light. It was more than five seconds before the light dissipated.

"What the hell!" Daryl exclaimed.

There wasn't much time to react to the thunder, lightning or oddity of the storm before the room lit up again – within the light, the group witnessed a swirling body materialize through the walls of the room. Amid their confusion, thunder roared. They were frozen with their eyes transfixed on the beautiful blue light currently moving in their direction – the room became engulfed in a whirlpool of fluorescence.

Static permeated the room….

After sixty seconds, the light dissipated. The room was once again dank, dark and stuffy. The short-wave radio remained on the old cracked wooden table.

The survivors were gone….

xxxxxx

A/N - This was an idea I had that I couldn't shake. It's very different from The Mockingbird Conversation. I'm excited to share my crazy thoughts. The updates will be regular for both stories. Please let me know what you think so far. Thank you.