A/N: I want to add a mild trigger warning for this chapter for some disturbing content.


Chapter 8

Shifting

Carry away my dead leaves
Let me baptize my soul with the help of your waters
Sink my pains and complains
Let the river take them, river drown them
My ego and my blame
Let me baptize my soul with the help of your waters
Those all means are so ashamed
Let the river take them, river drown them
"River"
Ibeyi

-oOo-

Jeremiah knew he wasn't the last person left alive, truly alive, in this town. He had seen evidence of others, heard their engines purr as they drove through the streets, but he had never been able to catch up with them.

He had spent most of his time walking with the dead. He wore their insides over his own skin and travelled in between groups of them, smelling their scent, listening to their sounds, staring at their various levels of decay.

He was the king of the dead. He had learned to use them as cover while he searched for others, observing them, hunting them. Sometimes the dead would reach the living before he could. He would stand back and watch them devour the warm flesh. Watch the fear and the anguish of the victims. Watch with fascination as they re-animated and became a part of the pack.

It had been a long time since he had been in the presence of the living. A long time since he felt the thrill of making them into one of the roaming dead.

This new world was made for Jeremiah. For as long as he could remember he never felt like others. Could never relate to their need to please others, be kind to others, do the right thing by others. He found these things made people weak, easy to manipulate, easy to fool, easy to prey on. And he never felt better than when he was preying on others.

His mother was his first victim. He learned to pout his mouth, bat his eyes, say the things she liked to hear, cry on command. She never wanted to believe he was responsible for missing jewelry or money. Never wanted to see that it was him that killed her birds, made the dogs in the neighbourhood go missing, poisoned the cat. When she finally did admit to herself that Jeremiah was not as innocent as she thought, she made up excuses for him better than he ever could have.

His father was a different story. The man had been afraid of him. He watched Jeremiah like a hawk and mistrusted him completely. He even put a lock on the outside of Jeremiah's bedroom door and would lock him in his room at night and said, with Jeremiah in the room, that he didn't trust the boy not to kill them in their sleep. His mother had cried but Jeremiah could only wonder how his father knew him so well behind the mask he had tried so hard to cultivate and wear at all times.

Jeremiah had a fascination with death and an acute desire for dead women. He hadn't been aware of this until he was eleven when he visited a funeral home with his grandmother to view the body of one of her friends. It was in that silent room where the dead lay in their finest clothes in lush caskets that he took note of the young woman near to where they were viewing the aged woman who had been his grandmother's friend.

Her hair was fanned out around her, sleek and shiny, the dark brown a contrast against the stark white of the satin pillow beneath her head. He had touched her in her coffin. Had raised her arm up and placed it in a different position. He was thrilled at the notion that he could move her where he liked, how he liked. He was thrilled at knowing he could have complete and total control over her.

A few days after his twenty-third birthday Jeremiah realised his fantasy by creating his very own "doll". Deep in the woods in the cabin once used by his father and uncles when they were children he had laid the body out and remained with it until it was too far gone and he had to bury it behind the cabin. For months he had relived the moments. And when he was ready to go out and do it again, the dead began to rise.

He had viewed the news with rapt attention, watching the footage of police shooting people who stumbled back but never fell until they were hit in the head. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. A world full of dead people. A world meant for him.

He had been alone in the house with his father when he had to see this for himself. He had gone into the kitchen and grabbed a knife and came back and without any warning he stabbed his father in the chest. Repeatedly. The man fought hard for his life but Jeremiah never relented until his father fell to the floor and bled out.

Jeremiah had sat down and watched. Minutes ticked by as he waited for his father to rise. He wasn't sure how long it had been before the man, bloodied with a look of horror on his face, began to twitch and moan and get up again.

Jeremiah hadn't been prepared for what would happen next. He didn't expect the man to move so fast, to be so strong, so blindly determined in doing one thing; sink his teeth into Jeremiah's flesh. Jeremiah ended up having to bash his dead father's head in with the silver lamp on the end table. Then he had sat with the dead body all night waiting for his mother to come home but she never did. She was probably still out there wandering with the rest of the dead.

-oOo-

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Michonne jolted awake. There a bang after the shouting. She jumped out of bed, quickly pulling her pants on and ran out the bedroom. She cracked the front door and peered into the hallway to see Abraham standing outside his unit being hit by pieces of his clothing and a few shoes.

"You piece of shit asshole," Rosita screeched throwing another item of clothing at him. "You wanna leave, then leave." Rosita went back into the unit slamming the door. Abraham cleared his throat slightly then bent down picking up the items on the floor, trying to keep a little bit of dignity under the shocked gaze of everyone as they also peered out at the scene that had just unfolded before them.

The door opened again and Rosita came out, tugging on something heavy. Oh lord she's going to throw the couch at him, Michonne thought when suddenly Eugene came spinning from the unit before slamming into the wall between the windows opposite the unit doors.

"And take him with you," Rosita shouted pointing at Eugene whose face was scrunched up on the verge of tears. "Two fucking cowards," she spat before retreating once more into her apartment with another loud bang of the door.

Michonne stole a glance at Carol who leaned against the jamb of Gabriel's unit looking like she had been run over and thrown off a cliff. Amber and Kyle were crushed against the wall not far from where Eugene was thrown, wide eyed and seemingly unsure of what to do. Carl stood in his doorway holding Judith who whimpered at all the commotion as Daryl walked from his unit and helped Abraham gather his things.

The door clicked again and Michonne jumped, not knowing what to expect from Rosita this time. Rosita didn't come into view, instead a ball of clothing was thrown into the hallway then the door closed again. Now it was Eugene's turn to start gathering things as these were his clothes.

Then there was silence except the sound of clothes being picked up. When done, Abraham, Eugene, and Daryl walked around the corner to a free unit on that wing.

Michonne made her way over to Carl, "what was that about?"

Carl shrugged and kissed Judith.

"Where's your dad?"

"On the roof. Said he couldn't sleep and I could find him up there."

She hadn't slept much herself. She had lain awake waiting for Rick to come. She had become accustomed to having him in her bed, his arms wrapped tightly around her that without it she felt ill at ease.

"Come on kid," Michonne said putting her arm around Carl's shoulder. "Let's go get some breakfast."

-oOo-

"No, no, no, no," Eugene kept muttering as he paced the unit. Abraham sat on the couch watching him, feeling himself get more annoyed with each passing moment.

"Sit down Eugene, it's gonna be okay," Abraham said wearily.

"NO," Eugene shouted walking up to him and pointing his finger in Abraham's face. "You fix this. You fix this NOW."

Abraham slapped Eugene's finger from his face, "don't point that at me. You wanna go back? Then go."

Eugene stared at him for a moment then went back to pacing. Abraham let out a deep breath and slouched down on the sofa. After last night, being on the rooftop with June, he knew he couldn't go back to pretending what he and Rosita had was real for him. Shit, he should have done what he did sooner instead of waiting.

Maybe he didn't have to be a complete ass to her though. Maybe he could have chosen his words better when he told her he didn't want to be with her anymore. He wasn't ever good with diplomacy and he needed her to know that it was over. He didn't love her, he never loved her, and he hadn't ever expected her to love him.

Abraham needed to get away from this place for a while. Get out and get a change of scenery. He needed to get his head together. When he first spoke to June, really had a conversation with her, he had expected it be much like conversations with his wife. June, however, was nothing like his wife. She was no nonsense, straight to the point, and didn't suffer his bullshit lightly. With her he was forced to let down his defenses, express himself clearly. And God did he like that.

"Eugene," he barked at the man causing him to stop in his tracks. "Get your clothes and choose a room. After breakfast, we're gonna pack for a trip."

"No," Eugene said giving him a defiant look.

"Yes. You've done nothing but sit on your ass since we got here. Tomorrow we're going out to get some supplies and I'm gonna need your help." Eugene shook his head and Abraham found himself balling his hands into fists. "We're going back to where that house we stayed at was. We're gonna get those solar panels and wind turbines and you are going to help me. Do you understand?"

Eugene said nothing, just staring at Abraham for a while before his face twisted with contempt. "You never deserved her," Eugene spat out before snatching up his clothes and stalking away.

Abraham snorted. He had never tried to deserve her love and couldn't really understand why she wanted to give it to him in the first place. It was just sex she had said after their first few times together and he had treated it like that. Just two buddies who fucked every now and again. No great romance there. He never had long deep conversations with Rosita like had with June. Hell, she only knew he was married before because of his ring but had no idea he once had two children.

When he told her it was over he had honestly hoped for her to scoff, tell him he was a lousy lay anyway and that would've been that. He hadn't expected the rage and worse, the tears. The emotion she had displayed that he could never muster up for her had she been the one to walk away.

"Either you're gonna live here or you're gonna die here," June had told him last night as they stood on the roof. "If you're gonna go, go but don't you look at all that you've done so far to survive and think it's all worthless, all worth throwing away, because you think you can't live without the thrill of death."

Just one more brush with death, Abraham thought as he started to think of what he'd need for his mission tomorrow.

-oOo-

With each step Carol felt like her head would explode. Sasha had given her some pain pills but said it'd be about half an hour before they kicked in. She had awoken in a state of confusion, not sure for a good minute where the hell she was, whose couch she was on but then the night before had come back to her and she smiled. That was until the noise from Rosita made her wish she could turn off all her nerve endings.

She stumbled slowly into the canteen where almost everyone was, everyone but Noah and Rick who were on the roof; Sasha who was in the infirmary; Glenn and Maggie who had already left for their run; and Rosita, Abraham and Eugene, who were all hiding away in their separate units.

"You look like hell," Daryl said looking amused at her.

"Stop speaking so loud," Carol groaned at him. She held her head when June and the kids got up from the table, their plates clattering under their utensils.

"Feeling last night?" Michonne asked as she stood up with Judith. Carol nodded and placed her head on the table. "I'll keep Judith today." Michonne gave Carol a squeeze on her shoulder before leaving the canteen with Carl following.

Carol lifted her head again as she smelled the strong scent of coffee. Gabriel was standing next to her, placing a plate of pancakes before her. She looked at him and found herself smiling as his kind eyes looked her over.

"Did you sleep okay?" Carol nodded. "Maybe some food will help with that hangover."

His voice was low and gentle, almost like a soothing massage on her brain. "Thank you," Carol mouthed and he stared at her a moment longer before leaning over and taking Daryl's dishes and heading back to the kitchen.

Carol could feel the smile spreading on her lips and she was unable to suppress it. Her eyes flicked over to Daryl who stared at her scowling.

"Really Carol?" he said low and accusatory. "The fucking priest? Isn't that a sin or some shit"

"Jealous?" Carol giggled then moaned again as her head rattled. She slowly took a bite of her pancakes. She stole a glance at Gabriel who stood washing the dishes at the sink. She got a tingling feeling remembering the way he had looked last night, his chest bare and firm, as he sat with her. He had brought her the blanket and pillow and after she got settled he continued to massage her feet but they didn't speak again. They just remained in a surprisingly comfortable silence as the candle died out and she had fallen asleep being soothed by what he was doing.

She turned back to see Daryl staring at her with a mix of horror and shock and she burst out laughing. "What?" she said coyly. "I'm not allowed to have sex?"

Daryl balked at her. "I'm gonna beat his ass," he said determinedly.

"Why?" She laughed again.

"I don't like the thought of him pawing all over you," Daryl hissed at her.

"Oh stop. He hasn't pawed all over me. But I wouldn't mind if he did. He's in extremely good shape for a man his age." She stole another glance at Gabriel's back. Daryl made a retching sound, still scowling at the thought of her and Gabriel together. Carol arched an eyebrow at him. "Maybe if you got to pawing someone of your own you wouldn't be so angry with me."

Daryl sat back, his arms folding and looking like a chastised child. "I'm not angry, I'm grossed out," he gave her a wide smile and a wink. "And who the hell am I supposed to be pawing anyway."

Carl leaned forward and batted her eyelashes at him and made a kissy face.

Daryl sighed and rolled his eyes, "I really hate when you do that."

"Do you pookie?" She laughed again as Daryl stood up.

He walked around the table and stood behind her and leaned down, "well, at least you're smiling again." He gave her a quick peck on her cheek and left her alone with Gabriel.

"You know, I could hear you guys," Gabriel said calmly, his back still to her.

Carol took a sip of the strong, bitter coffee, "good."

-oOo-

Jeremiah stopped walking and sat on the doorstep of a house and watched the herd pass him by. He had done pretty well in this town. It had been abandoned in the beginning, when the news alerts were telling people to go into D.C. and take shelter behind the barricades the military had set up. Finding food in the empty houses had been easy. The living he had spied as he walked in the middle of the mass of dead bodies had mostly run, not wanting to fight with the dead, not wanting to risk losing. That was how he was able to stalk them, spy on them, see if they would be good prey.

It had been a long time since he last found prey. And it had been so unsatisfactory.

He had found the small family of three in a cabin in the woods. The perfect family. Father, mother and son. And they had been so willing to help him, to believe he was one of the last good people left. He had lived with them for over a week, becoming a part of the family, taking down the dead, helping them acquire food, spending time with their boy.

It was the mother he wanted. She was young and had a kind of beauty that radiated beneath the weariness survival had beaten into her face. She had a need to believe all hope was not lost, that there was something good waiting at the end of the road. Jeremiah waited patiently for the moment he could show her how completely wrong she was.

That moment had come when the husband decided he could trust Jeremiah alone with his family. He was wrong. Jeremiah had taken care of the boy first and sat in depraved pleasure watching the mother lose her mind at the sight of her precious boy, dead on the floor. It had all been going so well until the husband walked in on them. The fight was one Jeremiah almost thought he would lose. The husband fought with a fury through his tears over the bodies of his wife and child with Jeremiah.

Jeremiah had been stabbed in the leg with the sharp end of the broom handle that had broken in half. He had pulled in out his leg, ignoring the searing pain and plunged it into the husband's chest before taking the other half and slowly pushing it into the man's eye.

The dissatisfaction of that day still bothered Jeremiah. It was like an itch at the centre of his brain and only another kill would satisfy him and killing the dead didn't count.

As Jeremiah sat on the stoop of the abandoned house he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. The few dead that were walking along the street also heard and paused before turning to head toward the sound. If they were thinking creatures they would know the vehicle was heading towards them.

A truck rounded the corner, moving at a moderate pace. The driver, an Asian man, deftly maneuvered around the dead in the street before they were trapped behind a wall of ten or so dead. The vehicle stopped and backed up. The occupants of the truck got out, weapons in hand and began to take down the road block.

Jeremiah didn't stir as he watched. The woman was tough, she never hesitated approaching the oncoming dead and with swift thrusts and hits with her weapon, piercing their skulls or caving them in.

She was strong, beautiful. He could see she found a bit of pleasure in taking on the dead and winning. He cringed when she walked over to the man and kissed him softly before they both got back into the truck and took off as more dead headed their way.

Jeremiah shot up and began to walk after them, going as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself. He would take the man and then he would take her.

-oOo-

"I think we should take the back roads to get there," Rick told Daryl who stood beside him as he leaned over the dining table in his unit with a map spread out over it. "We don't know who all is out there, let's try to avoid places people are likely to be as well as car pileups."

"Yeah okay. What's this place again?"

"Sumner Plantation. According to the brochure I found, it was a historic landmark and large farming plantation."

Daryl picked up the brochure and looked at it. "It ain't got no walls," he mumbled as Rick began to trace out their route on a separate sheet of paper.

"No, but we got a shit load of cement and we can get more." Rick put his pencil down and examined the map he was drawing. "We should leave at first light. Sasha's gonna put some run packs together for us and Gabriel's gonna pack up some food and water."

"So what's the plan?"

"Just check out the place. See if it's covered with walkers or already taken. See how stable it is and if it has good defense points. We go, stay the night if we have to and we come back. If it looks good, maybe we start constructing walls now. Maybe we move in the winter. Haven't decided on all that."

"Two of us are enough?" Daryl flopped down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.

"Yeah. I prefer to scout in twos. Easier to get away. I'll draw up a map for you too, that way if we get split up we can both still make it back."

Weariness played on Rick's eyes. The defences of this new refuge were going well, being on the hill meant they got very few if any walkers coming their way. Maggie and Glenn were bringing in a lot of food, enough to last them almost until summer and more than enough to feed any new members they may pick up between now and when they were able to harvest new crop.

While it was possible for them to live here for a long time, he knew it wouldn't be enough for the long run. Rick had dreams of land to roam free on, animals grazing. He wanted to build a viable community, a place where people can live without constant fear from the dead or the living. One hundred and fifteen acres seemed like a good start.

Rick jumped at the sound of the door opening, he had been so lost in his thoughts he had even forgotten Daryl was in the room with him. Carl slowly walked in.

"Where's Judith?" Rick asked as his son closed the door and sat at the dining table next to him.

"With Michonne helping June prepare the balconies."

"Did you speak to Abraham?"

Carl glared over at Daryl and Rick had to suppress a laugh. "Not yet. He's gone M.I.A."

Carl was still sore at the lesson Daryl had taught him earlier that day when he had asked Rick if he could join them on their run. Daryl had told him that if things got rough they might need to fight. Carl had insisted he knew how to fight, motioning to the gun he carried. Suddenly Daryl was on Carl, grabbing the boy around his waist, pinning his arms to his to his sides. First he swung Carl to the right, then the left, lifting the boy of the ground. Then Daryl dropped to his knees, carrying Carl down with him and pinning Carl to the ground.

Carl's face had reddened as he struggled futilely with Daryl, unable to defend himself or get any headway with the man.

"Fighting ain't all guns," Daryl had told him. "Sometimes you gotta get in there and use your fist."

"Enough," Rick had shouted. He watched as Carl stood up, his hair standing on end, face red, and eyes glazed like he might cry. "Abraham's been teaching Kyle and Amber a few defensive moves, go find him and ask him to teach you to fight. When we get back, we'll show you some things too."

Now, Rick could see Carl was still angry and embarrassed by what happened earlier. He leaned in close to Carl so only his son could hear what he was saying. "Don't be sore at Daryl." Carl turned his eyes on Rick, hard and stubborn. Rick could almost see the man he would become behind those eyes. His little boy was fading away so quickly and Rick felt a sudden sense of loss at that.

"Look, go find Abraham. Even Michonne is taking lessons on shooting to improve and ain't nothin' weak about that woman. We all need to work on improving our skills." Carl nodded, his mouth tight. "This isn't about your pride Carl, it's about your survival."

Carl stood back up and headed for the door.

"Where you going?"

"To find Abe," the boy mumbled before heading out.

"He pissed off at me?" Daryl asked getting up himself.

"Yeah," Rick let out a deep sigh. "You kinda hurt his pride."

"I'd rather hurt his pride in here than watch him die out there."

"I hear you man.

-oOo-

Daryl walked slowly through the dark hallway, bouncing his water pot against his leg as he went. His day had been exhausting. The fight between Rosita and Abraham. The fight, if that's what you could call it, with Carl. Planning the recon mission he was about to embark on with Rick.

The door to the canteen was already ajar, a light from a lantern glowed from it. He stepped in to find Rosita scooping water with a ladle from one of the large barrels into her water pitcher.

"Hey," he mumbled, placing his pot on one of the dining tables waiting for her to finish.

"Hey yourself," she replied, dipping the ladle back in the barrel.

"You doing okay? After this morning I mean?"

Rosita stopped filling her pitcher and turned to him, eyeing him up and down in a way that made him somewhat uncomfortable. "I'm fine. Abraham and I…," she trailed off and walked closer to him, also placing her pitcher on the table. "It was just fucking in the end."

"For you or for him?"

"For both of us," she glared at him. "You know how that is? Life's too short, might as well get some pleasure from it."

He didn't believe her words. Her reaction wasn't one of a woman losing her fuck buddy. But then again, maybe it was. What did he know? What did he care?

She was eyeing him again, slowly, lingering around his crotch before moving up to his face and he could feel himself tense. He moved to grab his pot and she placed a hand on his arm and stepped closer to him.

"I never realised how good looking you are," Rosita said in a low voice, her finger tracing a line along his arm. "Abraham pulled away from me a while ago and I could use a little something nice tonight."

Daryl stared at her. Was she saying what he thought she was? Would he be willing to take her up on it? She was attractive, really attractive, and apparently ready to be with him if he just said the word. Maybe he'd forget about Sasha inside of Rosita. Maybe he'd find some solace in her arms tonight. Or maybe it'd leave him feeling empty knowing she didn't actually care about him at all and was only using him to get over Abraham.

He was pulled from his musing by the press of her lips on his and instantly he recoiled. Why did he have to be so strange? Wouldn't any other man, any normal man, embrace this situation?

"Don't be so jumpy," Rosita said smiling. "It's just a bit of fun."

Her arm came round and held him by the back of the neck and she pulled him in again, this time darting her tongue out and licking his lips slightly before kissing him again. He didn't respond. Couldn't. He felt like he was being invaded and also he felt used. But he didn't back away.

"Oh," a voice came from the door of the canteen. Daryl looked over and saw Sasha standing there, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He felt as though every organ in his body plummeted inside him. He was frozen as he stared at her, watching the look of shock and hurt form on her face. Then suddenly she was gone.

Daryl could feel his nostrils flare in anger and he grabbed Rosita's hand on his neck and pried it from him. "Don't ever do that again." He grabbed his pot and went to fill it, listening as Rosita left the unit.

-oOo-

Michonne sat in the dark waiting. She was waiting for Rick to come but she had a feeling he would not be coming again tonight like he hadn't come last night. She had a feeling her reluctance to define them was behind it. Why did he need a definition? Why did he need old world norms in this new world they lived in? And why was she so hesitant to do so?

She thought of her conversation with Carol. They spoke about emptiness and the things that filled them up. What made the hole where their lost children resided smaller, making the loss bearable, less painful? What made them want to get up and fight for another day of survival? Where did the bits of joy they snatched up daily to not walk into the wilderness and just let go come from? She knew the answer but couldn't bring herself to admit it fully to herself. Why? What was she afraid of?

Michonne opened one of her remaining chocolates and popped it in her mouth. She ran through her feelings in her head, trying to pinpoint what the issue was, trying to self analyze. What was it she truly wanted?

She got up then and found herself standing outside of Rick's unit. She steadied her nerves and knocked lightly on the door.

He opened looking tired and not completely happy to see her standing before him. "Bad time?" she was deflated by his welcome.

"Nah," he rasped out moving to allow her entry. "Came to tuck me in?" he gave a soft smile that relieved her more than she had anticipated.

He closed the door behind him and stepped towards her, leaning down to give her a kiss. She must have had a fretful look on her face because he placed his hand on her cheek and rubbed the skin lightly with his thumb, "hey, you okay?"

"I love you," Michonne blurted out without thought. She watched Rick's eyes widen and a smile form on his lips. "I love you and I love Carl and I love Judith. You, all of you, fill the empty places inside me. You make this worth doing, worth getting up and fighting for. You didn't come last night and I thought you wouldn't come tonight and I missed you. I'm not traditional but you are and I know you need to put concrete definitions on things, have things declared even if you already know what they are. I know what you want for us Rick and I want it too. I want us to be a family. Not just how all of us are a family, but our own family inside this larger family."

Michonne took a deep breath then. She realised she had been rambling her words out, not giving herself a second to pause, to chicken out. "I was afraid to say it, to feel it. It makes me feel like I don't have control feeling these things for all of you, for wanting the things I want from you. If it becomes real, then the thought of losing it becomes real too. All too real."

He took her hand in his and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it softly. "I love you too Michonne," he said. "We all do." He pushed her hair back and lightly brushed his lips against the nape of her neck sending shivers down her spine. "And I am traditional," he sucked on her neck. "And I do like definitions," he moved to the other side of her neck and sucked there. "I'm antiquated and not modern."

His hand snaked slowly underneath her shirt. He cupped her breast lightly, his fingers tickling the sensitive skin. That was all it took. She was wet and pulsing for him. He lifted up her shirt and kissed along her breasts before sucking one of her erect nipples into his mouth.

She let out a soft sigh and ran her fingers through his hair as he moved to her other nipple, his tongue licking at it as he sucked.

"Take your clothes off," she breathed out. He moved away from her and led her to his bedroom, locking the door behind them.

Her entire body was alive as she watched him disrobe. She took her clothes off and climbed into bed waiting for him to come to her. She began to rub herself and he stood watching her for a moment, his eyes hooded and his jaw slack.

He was so erect as he walked and climbed on top of her. He moved slowly, trailing kissing down her neck to her breasts, taking his time tasting her stomach and inner thighs. Michonne's breath caught and she spread her legs wider.

While still kissing the soft skin of her thigh Rick stroked her gently along her moist center, circling her clit, making her bite back her moans and dig her fingers into his shoulders. His fingers slipped inside her and he brought his mouth down and began to suck at her, flicking his tongue against her swollen bud, making her legs shake with pleasure. He was so good at this, almost too good.

She felt the build up in her, the tightness that always came before the release. She bit her lips and tried not to make too much noise. She shuddered and twitched through her orgasm, sighing contentedly as Rick's tongue slowly licked her until her breathing slowed.

He kissed her back up her body, slowly until he had her lips against his, his tongue in her mouth. He rubbed his erection against her soaking pussy, "tell me you belong to me," he breathed out deeply. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," Michonne husked as he pushed into her. "I'm all yours Rick." Her legs wrapped around him and they moved as one with each thrust he made into her.

-oOo-

It's what you deserve, Sasha told herself as she sat on her couch trying hard to ignore the lump in her throat. She was trying to wipe the image of Daryl kissing Rosita out of her mind but with each attempt she could see it more clearly. The way she held him by the back of his head, the way their lips touched and moved against each other. The lump in her throat grew larger.

She jumped at the banging against her front door. Three solid knocks came that she had half a mind to ignore.

She opened the door behind which stood Daryl holding a large stock pot with a lid.

"I, uh, I brought you some water. Figured that's what you came to the canteen for. You can return the pot to me later."

Sasha gingerly took the pot from Daryl, her eyes looking everywhere but at him, and nodded her head slightly. "Thank you." She walked over to the kitchen and placed the pot on the counter. Daryl walked in behind her and stood on the other side of the counter.

"About what you saw, with me and Rosita…"

"Its none of my business," she said quietly. She didn't want to hear it, she just wanted him to leave so they could go back to ignoring one another, pretending each other didn't exist.

Daryl licked his lips, he didn't want to lash out at her but he couldn't contain himself. "So you don't care?" His voice was louder than he wanted, harsher too.

"I didn't say I didn't care," Sasha yelled at him. It was so sudden and unexpected that he found himself standing up straight as if she commanded him too. Then she took a deep breath and said evenly through gritted teeth, "I said it was none of my business."

If he stood there much longer she was going to lose it in front of him and she couldn't bear the thought of shedding the tears while he was there.

"You and Rosita…," she tried to think of something positive to say but couldn't.

"There is no me and Rosita," he said softly. "There's Rosita and then there's me." And you.

The only response Sasha could give was a slow shrug. She worked her jaw in an effort to keep herself under control but it wasn't working. She blinked a tear free, then another.

"Sasha…," Daryl began.

"Please leave," she managed before the dam burst and her eyes burned. She wiped furiously at them.

Daryl took a step towards her, "Sasha?"

"Go," she shouted. "Now."

"No." He didn't yell. In fact his voice was almost a whisper.

"Please."

Her face was twisted with pain and he couldn't stand to see her that way. A part of him knew it was because of what she saw in the canteen, but he also knew it commingled with the pain she felt since the fall of the prison. The loss she felt that she couldn't let go of, the thing that made her run from him and put an end to what they had started.

"No," he repeated.

-oOo-

Rick squeezed the water from the wash cloth along her body, rinsing the soap away. He had come to love this ritual of theirs, it provided them with another level of intimacy, a show of love.

"I think," he kissed the back of her neck, "when we both get back we should sit Carl down and explain all this to him."

"Sounds like a plan," Michonne turned around and kissed him.

He ran his hands along her waist down to the slope of her hips and squeezed her ass. "It almost feels normal doesn't it?" She looked at him with questioning eyes. "This. Being here, bathing together, making love, becoming a family." His lips met hers and he kissed her deeply.

He wanted this moment to last. He needed it to. He had come the slow realization that not only did he love her, but he needed her. She kept him from slipping too far off the edge, she reined him in when he felt like spiraling into a base brutality. And although his kids survival was the reason he did all that he had, her by his side, fighting along with him for the survival of his family made him feel less insane. The way she had looked at him after biting the throat of that man had told him it was okay to sometimes do what was needed to live. There was no fear from her, no judgement. Like him, she was a part of this world and understood how things sometimes had to go to make it to the next day. But unlike him, she could also take a step back and see the bigger picture and know that you also had to plan for the future.

A knocking came at the bedroom door and the handle turned. "Dad," Carl shouted behind it then more knocking.

"You'll stay here?" Michonne nodded at his request. He figured telling Carl at that moment wouldn't be the best course of action. He walked from the bathroom and opened the bedroom door to his son holding Judith.

"She's looking for you," Carl said handing the baby to him. Judith instantly wrapped her little arms around Rick's neck and burrowed her face against his chest.

"We're leaving out early so I'll put her in your bed before I go," Rick said.

"No problem. Goodnight dad." Carl began to turn away then paused and poked his head slightly through the door. "Goodnight Michonne," he bellowed.

Rick's eyes widened, he felt like a child caught. He stood frozen as he heard Michonne call back, "goodnight." He didn't know what to say to his son at that moment. He wanted to explain but the explanations couldn't come.

"The walls aren't thick and I'm not deaf," the boy offered before turning away and heading back to his room.

Michonne walked slowly out the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, an abashed look on her face. Judith looked up and reached for her and Michonne took the little girl from Rick.

"I think you should go speak to him," she said.

"Yeah," Rick sighed. He was hoping to work out what he'd say to Carl while out on the road. He would need to improvise and hope he hit the mark. "There's stuff you can wear in that pillowcase over there," he pointed to the corner.

Michonne walked over and peaked in the bag. She pulled out one the negligees and gave him a wry look while shaking her head slowly. "Maybe some other time when Judith isn't here."

Rick ran his hand through his hair and gave her impish smile. "She won't notice what you have on."

"It's not her I'm worried about."

"Touche," Rick said, watching as Michonne put Judith down on the bed and grabbed a t-shirt from one of his drawers and slipped it on over her towel before removing it.

She picked Judith back up and lay on the bed with the little girl against her chest. "You know what you're gonna say?"

Rick took a deep breath and shook his head. "I'll have to come up with something between here and his door."

Rick knocked once before entering Carl's room. The boy lay in bed staring up the ceiling. Placing the candle he held down on the nightstand, Rick sat on the edge of Carl's bed.

"You mad?"

"No. I don't know," Carl answered sitting up. "It's just strange. My dad doing...stuff to my...Michonne."

"I'm not just doing 'stuff' with her," Rick had to suppress a chuckle. "I love her." Carl rolled his eyes and Rick moved to look directly in his face. "Hey, don't do that. I love her. I love her for me and for us. She's…," beautiful and strong and keeps me grounded and makes me feel safe. He didn't say all that though, not sure if that would be appropriate to say to his son who was still mourning the loss of his mother so he just shrugged.

"Is that why you gave me this?" Carl held up his hand, displaying Rick's wedding band on his index finger.

"I gave it to you so that you could have something of your mother."

"And because Michonne fits you better than mom did?"

Rick looked down. It was true, Michonne did fit him better but he didn't want to say that to Carl and he also didn't want to deny it.

"Are you mad?"

Carl shook his head. "No. I guess she's a Grimes now huh?"

A small smile graced Rick's mouth, "yeah, she is."

-oOo-

They sat in silence on opposite ends of the couch. The candlelight had burned out a while ago and they were in darkness.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?" Daryl lit another cigarette. When she accepted he wasn't going to leave, Sasha had given him a mug to use as an ashtray and he had slowly filled it while she kept her back turned to him. He knew she had been crying but didn't say or do anything, he simply allowed her to empty out in peace. But now she was done, had been for a while.

"You look like you haven't been sleeping," he spoke again when she had said nothing.

"I don't sleep much," she offered. "Too many nightmares."

"About what?"

"About the dead. About Tyreese." In the dark, alone with him she felt she could let it out. She couldn't see the look on his face, she couldn't even tell if he had turned his head to face her. "They call to me, tell me to join them. Then they come and get me."

The couch shifted as Daryl got up and sat back down next to her. Sasha sucked in her breath as he took one of her hands in his and squeezed. "Do you want to join them?"

"No," her voice sounded hoarse. "But sometimes I think if I keep having these dreams, I might listen to them."

"That why you got that bed set up on the balcony? You think if you sleep somewhere else you'll have different dreams?"

"No. It was really hot last night."

Daryl smiled at that. It had been hot, so hot he slept in the garden on one of the lawn chairs and woke up early, shivering and covered in morning dew. He had watched the sky all night, keeping a keen eye out for any satellites. He could feel her hand gripping his and he ran his thumb along the top of hers. He tried to see her in the dark and wished she'd light another candle. He wondered how she'd feel if he tried to embrace her or kiss her. How would she feel if he admitted that nothing had changed in his feeling for her and how much he missed her.

"Are you still afraid of good things happening to you Sasha?"

She didn't say anything. She wasn't sure what she was anymore. Afraid, alone, angry? Ill at ease?

"You're like the man who washes his hands sixty times a day," Daryl said after a moment. "You think the world will explode if you don't. Except, the world's gonna do what it's gonna do no matter if you wash your hands or not."

He was right, she knew, but she couldn't shake the feeling. Life had always been full of ups and downs, but now the downs equalled death and the ups were so easily forgotten.

They went silent again and Daryl smoked another cigarette. It was getting late and he needed to get to bed soon to be ready for his run with Rick but he didn't want to leave.

Sasha shifted in her seat and found herself moving to lean against him. He didn't move a muscle as her head rested against his chest and she welcomed the feel of his arms circling her, rubbing her back gently. She needed this right now, to feel connected to someone she knew cared. If it was selfish of her, she didn't care at that moment. He felt like...home.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes." Sasha could feel his heart begin to thud beneath her head. She stood up, "I'll bring you a pillow."

When she walked from the room he lay on the sofa. She came back and handed him the pillow and sat at his feet, slightly curled up. She didn't want to go to her room to lay alone in her bed waiting for the nightmares to come.

Daryl moved over on the couch, making some space next to him. "Come here," he said, raising his arm to allow her to lay next to him. To his surprise she did, placing her head on his chest and her leg over his legs.

"Just for tonight," she said wrapping her arm around him.

"Just for tonight."