NINE


"Daryl, can I talk to you?"

Daryl looked up from the arrows he was fletching with turkey feathers and saw Aaron loping toward him, his hands in his pockets and his customary friendly smile on his face.

"'Sup?" He asked as he stuck a finished arrow into a homemade quiver and began another.

Aaron reached down and plucked it up again, ignoring Daryl's huff of frustration. "This is some fine work," he said appreciatively. "But these are too long for your crossbow."

The hunter nodded. "Not fer me. Ava wanted me t' teach 'er."

With that, he reached down next to the log he sat on and held up a hand-carved longbow, already tightly strung. Aaron gave a low whistle as Daryl carefully placed it in his hands. His blue eyes wide, he asked, "You made this?"

Daryl nodded again. "Easier t' pull back than m' crossbow, no movin' parts but the string."

"It's beautiful," he said as he turned it over and noticed the trailing ivy carved into the outside of the arms. Once it was stained and polished it would look even better, the dark outline of the ivy contrasting with the lighter shade of the birch he had used to make the bow.

Taking the bow back, Daryl gruffly asked, "What'd ya wanna talk about?"

"Right," Aaron replied, remembering his reason for coming outside. "We were thinking about switching up guard duty assignments for the next few months, try to make it so some of us can work on other projects, give some others a turn."

"Talk ta Maggie. She's in charge of work details."

The other man nodded. "I know. And we have, but she said to ask you."

Daryl squinted up at him. "Me? What fer?"

"Because," Aaron said as he hid a smile, "you know everyone's strengths and weaknesses. You can figure out who'd be best suited to each shift." Daryl opened his mouth to protest, but Aaron rushed on. "I know you're busy with Chloe and the fortifications around this place, but I thought maybe since you're supposed to be off your feet we could plan it out."

Daryl pondered it for a minute, chewing on his thumbnail, before finally shrugging his shoulders. "Might be nice to have a longer rotation," he said at length. "Two weeks instead of five days."

Aaron grinned. "And then we switch it up quarterly."

"A'ight," Daryl agreed with a nod. "Works fer me."

"So," the curly-haired man slyly asked, watching the other man carefully for a reaction, "should I put Ava on the rotation?"

He was disappointed, however, when Daryl only shrugged and said, "Yeah. Only one shouldn't be is Maggie."

Aaron plopped down onto the log beside him, and Daryl stuffed down the long-suffering sigh itching to make its way out. Truthfully, though his enthusiasm could sometimes be exhausting, Daryl enjoyed the man's company. Despite his optimism he was fully grounded and understood the reality of this landscape. He just chose to see the small positives rather than focus on all the bad things. Also, he was brave and loyal, two features Daryl counted most important these days. "Seen Carol lately?"

"Kingdom's keepin' her busy, an' I've been busy here. Haven't had time."

Aaron frowned. "That sucks."

"She writes ta me. Little notes an' stuff."

Now his eyebrows climbed up to his hairline. "Carol writes you?"

Daryl nodded. "I write back sometimes, but..."

"You've been busy."

"Yep."

"What kinds of things do you write about?"

"Nothin' much. Mostly she gossips about who's sleepin' with who, dumb stuff like that. But I don't tell 'er that, cuz it makes her happy to tell me, so...I tell 'er how everyone here's doin', try and get 'er to come back here, but she likes it there."

They sat in silence for a while. Aaron knew how close Daryl and Carol had grown over the years, becoming something even closer than siblings. Others mistook their relationship as an awkward romance where both parties were too afraid to make the first move, but not Aaron. He saw their similarities, both in their personalities and in the events of their pasts, and the more time he had spent with them he began to see them almost as soulmates, but in a platonic way. Or, more accurately, like they were two halves of the same being.

And in light of that revelation, he understood both why Carol had left and why her absence was hard on Daryl. With her gone, he felt as if a part of himself was missing. Ever the stoic hunter, however, he tried not to let others see it, but those who were more perceptive - like Aaron - picked up the subtle cues.

Changing the subject to something a little less sore, Aaron asked, "How're things going with Chloe?"

Daryl shrugged. "She's okay. Growin', but..."

"They all do," Aaron finished for him. He watched Daryl as he fletched another arrow, his fingers carefully working his knife to notch the end of the shaft before tying the feathers onto it with dental floss. "You two seem to be doing a good job raising her. It's hard, stepping into a father's role when you have no experience."

"Ain't so bad. She's a good kid."

"Still, having someone so defenseless depending on you can be daunting..."

"I took care of Judith when she's a baby," Daryl reminded him. "Fed 'er, held 'er when she's cryin'..."

"But in the end, Rick was there when she needed him," Aaron argued gently. Daryl didn't bother to correct him on Lil Asskicker's parentage, as it was beside the point. Her real father was dead long before she was born. "You are essentially Chloe's father now. There's no one to turn to when you need a break."

"'Cept Ava. She...she's gettin' good at bein' a mom."

"Getting good?" Aaron repeated.

"Guess the instincts don't kick in the same fer ev'ryone. Plus she's never had to be someone's Ma."

"Makes sense."

"She's just...her second-guessin' gets in the way."

"Does that bother you?"

Daryl shook his shaggy head. "Nah. She'll get there. 'Sides, she's got Maggie an' Enid ta help 'er."

"Speak of the devil..." Aaron sang under his breath, as Ava stepped out of the manor house. In her arms she carried Chloe, who sported a little white bonnet on her head to keep the sun out of her eyes.

"Shit," Daryl swore, his eyes swinging wildly around him as he searched for something. Then, he gestured to Aaron and said, "Gimme that sheet behind ya."

Curious, Aaron obliged, and Daryl quickly snapped it open and covered the bow and arrows with it. He bunched it up in places, trying to make it seem like just a balled-up, discarded tarp, and placed a few small rocks on it for good measure. When his gift was hidden, he whipped out a crossbow bolt he had carved and went to work sharpening the tip, pretending he'd been working on it all along. And just in time, too, as Ava reached them a moment later.

Aaron bit back against a smile. Big, bad Daryl, who had perfected his thousand-yard stare and could shoot a walker in the skull from 300 feet, was afraid of his surprise being ruined.

"Hey," she greeted the two men.

"Good morning," Aaron replied. He reached out and slipped his pinkie finger into Chloe's fist, and she squeezed it tightly and tried to bring it to her mouth. Chuckling, he took it back and said, "Looks like she's hungry again."

Ava grinned and shook her head. "I think she's teething. She tries to put everything in her mouth."

"You got plans for later?" Aaron asked her. "I could use a hand with finishing up the nesting boxes for the chickens we got from the Kingdom."

He didn't miss that she first looked to Daryl, whose expression remained static, before shaking her head. "Not that I know of. After dinner?"

He nodded. "Sounds good." Standing up, he brushed his hands off on his pants and ran a finger down the baby's cheek, then gave them a small wave. "I'd better get goin'. Daryl, we're getting together tomorrow morning for those rotations."

The hunter stuck the finished bolt into his quiver, his movements as sharp as the arrow's tip. "Yeah. 'Kay."

When Aaron had gone, Daryl stowed his knife and gestured for the baby. "Lemme see 'er."

Ava willingly handed her to him, then took the spot on the log Aaron had vacated. Stretching all her limbs out in front of her, she heaved a sigh and then tipped her face up, eyes closed, toward the sun. "Feels so good."

"'S gonna be warm fer Fall. Prob'ly near 80."

"Maybe I'll finally get a tan," she joked. After a few moments she tilted her head back down and peered at him. "How long've you been up?"

Daryl shrugged. "A while. Watched the sun come up."

"You eat?"

"Yeah. You?"

She nodded. "And so did that little monster, there. Finished off a bottle and was still yelling, so Maggie made a little runny oatmeal for her."

He looked down at the baby in his arms, and a warm feeling spread through his stomach. It was replaced a moment later by a coldness that seeped straight into his bones. Like a black hole had opened up inside him. Trying hard to ignore it, he asked, "She like it?"

"She loved it," Ava told him. "Ate quite a bit of it before she finally got full."

"She really is growin' up," he said, and Ava didn't miss the sadness that edged into his words. "Soon she'll be walkin'..."

She laid on a hand on his shoulder. "Not for a while, yet. We still have time."

"Maybe."

"What do you mean, maybe?"

He frowned. "We ain't invincible, Ava. If Negan attacks an' I...we could get killed. Or turned, like 'er real ma."

"I know, but..."

"Do you?" He asked, his eyes hardening. "Do the rest of these people?"

"Daryl..."

He stood up, Chloe still in his arms, and began pacing in front of Ava. "We made this mistake already. At the farm. The prison. Alexandria. We get too comfortable. Act like this is it - this is our safe place, our home - and then someone stronger or smarter comes along..."

"We have allies now," Ava argued, standing up as well. "The Kingdom and Oceanside..."

"It ain't enough!" He shouted. Chloe began to cry, and instinctively Ava reached out to take her, but he deftly turned away.

Hardening her gaze, she tried again and succeeded in plucking the baby from his arms. As she tucked Chloe's head into her shoulder to soothe her, she hissed, "You're scaring her, Daryl."

"We all should be scared!" He gripped her by the shoulders and spun her to look at the manor house. "Ya see this? All this, it's all a dream. It ain't real!"

A few of the others had heard the commotion, including Glenn and Aaron, and now the two men quickly strode over, concern clear on their faces.

"Daryl?" Glenn asked, his voice quiet but his tone firm. "What's..."

His hands still on Ava, his head whipped toward the younger man, his eyes hard. "Ya think that fence'll keep us safe? Keep people like Negan out?"

"Maybe not, but..."

"But what?" His fingers dug in harder, but Ava steeled herself against the pain, instead softly shushing the baby in her arms. She supposed that she should have been afraid of Daryl in that moment, or at least angry with him. Anyone else in her situation probably would have. But she could feel that he was afraid, and so while another woman in her spot would have been sobbing, terrified, she only felt like crying out of sympathy for him. "We can't stand another place burnin' down, Glenn!"

Aaron put his hand on Daryl's shoulder, but the hunter twisted away. Not one to give up easily, Aaron took a step forward and said, "We get it, Daryl. You don't want to lose any more people."

"I can't," he insisted, tears blurring his eyes. "If I..."

"Right," Aaron interrupted him. "I know. We know. That's why we're redoing the assignments."

"We're stronger, now," Glenn put in, "because of you."

Daryl shook his head. "I didn't..."

"You taught most of us how to fight. You and Aaron found the others and brought them here, and you hunt to keep us all fed."

Finally quieting Chloe's cries to sniffles, Ava gently pulled out of his grasp, and he let her go. She turned around to face him. "We're more than a family now. We're bonded," she reminded him, using Rosita's word for their connection. "We are Hilltop."

"Negan's comin', and he's pissed," Daryl argued. "He ain't gonna give up 'til we're all dead."

"Then we'll have to make sure he dies first," Glenn said, a hardness to his gaze Daryl had only seen once before - when they were all forced to kneel at the Saviors' feet. He had been ready to take on the man with the bat then, and it was simultaneously pleasing and unsettling to see that his fire had not cooled one bit since that day.

"Let's all take a break," Aaron suggested. "Get out of the sun and grab a drink."

After a long minute during which Daryl stared down into Chloe's dark eyes, he finally muttered, "Yeah."

Glenn's face broke out into a smile, and he clapped the hunter on the shoulder. "Maggie's got cookies inside, hot from the oven."

"If there's any left," Aaron said glumly as they all moved toward the house. "I saw Rosita and Tara high-tailing it into the kitchen a while ago."

As it turned out, there were plenty to go around. Maggie had shooed the two women out of the kitchen almost as soon as they'd come in, telling them the cookies weren't ready yet, and with pouts on their faces they had obeyed and went to check on the crops instead.

She was still in the crisp white kitchen when the group led by Glenn came in, a pair of oven mitts stuck on her hands as she bent in front of the open oven door. Muttering something under her breath, she shut the door and stood up, then jumped a little when she saw she had company.

"Ya'll snuck up on me," she breathed, pulling off the mitts to lay a hand over her racing heart.

Glenn moved around the island to embrace his wife, lovingly giving her belly a rub as he laid a kiss on her lips and then said, "You look hot."

"Well, I've been baking," she replied with a chuckle.

His eyebrows waggled. "Not what I meant, babe."

Daryl grimaced. "The hell is this? Gone with the Wind?"

Ava elbowed him. "It's cute."

"It's gross," he argued.

"You're just jealous," Glenn told him, and kissed Maggie's cheek.

Daryl just waved his hand dismissively and said, "Pfft." Peering around Maggie at the kitchen counter beside the stove, he asked, "Where these cookies at?"

"I already told Rosita..." She began, but Daryl had already stepped around her and began opening cupboards, moving cans and bags around as he searched them. Coming up empty, he paused to think and then opened the breadbox on the island, uttering a sound of discovery as he reached in and pulled out a plate loaded with cookies.

As he swiped three from the pile, Maggie sighed and shook her head. "Fine," she relented. "But save some for me, Rick and Michonne, would you? Last time I got crumbs."

Daryl stuffed half a cookie into his mouth, then set his other two and half on the counter before handing some out to Ava, Glenn and Aaron. The rest of the plate he handed back to Maggie. "Here," he said around his mouthful. He finished chewing and picked up the remainder of his prize. "They're good, Mags."

As the others added their mumbled agreements, she smiled warmly and hid the plate away again, sliding the cover of the breadbox down. "Thank you. Family recipe."

Brushing away crumbs that had fallen onto Chloe's bonnet, Ava swallowed and said, "These could win an award."

A timer went off, its high-pitched ringing reminiscent of a telephone, and Maggie slipped her mitts back on and pulled the next batch out of the oven. The smell of sugar and cinnamon wafted through the room, and everyone made a collective "Mm" sound. Sensing that her cookies were in danger, Maggie set the pan down on the stove and shook her head. "Oh, no. Everybody, out!"

"But..." Glenn began, reaching toward the pan. Maggie lightly slapped his hand, and he pulled it back as if he'd been burned.

"Not even you," she warned. Her gaze softening, she explained, "I was planning on serving them after dinner."

"We can't wait," Aaron told her.

Sufficiently chastened, the group turned as one and filed out of the kitchen. Ava went for the stairs to the second floor, but Daryl called her name and she stopped, her foot on the first stair. Turning back to face him, she adjusted Chloe in her arms and waited, curiosity written on her features.

"I...there's somethin' I wanna show ya," he said.

Standing in the front doorway, Aaron smiled, so far unnoticed by the pair. He of course knew what the "something" was, and he so wanted to watch this play out, but he had a feeling Daryl wouldn't appreciate a third wheel. "I can take the baby for a while," he offered then, and Ava peered around the hunter to look at the curly-haired man as he came forward and held out his hands. "Give your arms a break."

Daryl met his gaze and gave a slight nod, and Aaron just grinned back. You're welcome, brother, Aaron thought.

"Are you sure?" Ava asked him. "She can be a handful..."

"We'll be fine." As if to prove the point, Aaron took Chloe and nestled her into the crook of his arm. She whimpered a few times, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout that usually meant a full-on wail was coming next, but he shook his head and widened his eyes, then sang, "Won't we, Chloe? Yes, we will."

"C'mon," Daryl said, tugging Ava by the arm toward the door. "'Fore she really gets goin'."

With a last glance at Aaron, who nodded reassuringly at her, she followed Daryl outside.


By the time she had shut the door behind her, Daryl was already halfway across the yard, his strides seeming even longer than usual. Ava huffed a sigh and jogged a few steps to catch up with him, only to screech to a stop a moment later when he did. He stood in front of the fallen log they had recently begun to use as a bench, and gestured for her to sit. Ava looked at him, puzzled, but obliged. Once she was situated, he positioned himself in front of her, his body turned slightly sideways.

"So, uh..." He began, then shook his head once and instead reached down to her left and pulled up a wrinkled sheet weighted down by rocks. When he stood up again, he was holding a longbow and a buckskin quiver filled with arrows. His cheeks and the tips of his ears blushed furiously as he thrust them at her, uttering a quick, "Here."

She peered up at him, her mouth gaping like a fish dragged from a pond. "Daryl, what...?" She swallowed and tried again. "This is for me?"

"Yeah. Ya said ya wanted ta learn."

Her brow furrowed. "I did?" When he nodded, she asked, "When?"

He shrugged. "A way back. After we found Chloe."

She had to think for a while, but finally she remembered the conversation. They had been sitting by the bonfire, passing a fifth of a bottle of Jack Daniels' back and forth between them. He had asked her if she knew how to fight with anything other than a knife, and she shook her head.

"I can shoot a gun, but I'm not a good shot," she told him.

"Ain't hard," he replied as he took a swig and handed the bottle back. "Just takes practice."

"Like your crossbow?"

"'S a little harder. Gotta have lotta muscle ta pull the string back. Tension's lot higher than a reg'lar bow."

She held the bottle up in the firelight, enjoying the way the amber color flickered gold when the fire sparked. She was drunk, or at least mostly there; she could feel it in the heavy-light fuzziness of her limbs. Smiling widely, she took a healthy pull of the liquid and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You could teach me," she said, her words slurring just a bit. "Bet you're a good teacher."

"Dunno 'bout that," he had responded, "but if yer serious I will."

Ava sat up straighter in an attempt to seem less sloshed and nodded vigorously. Ignoring the way her stomach roiled when her vision blurred, she said, "Serious. Totally serious."

Though she couldn't see his face, she could hear the smile in his voice. "All right, settle down. Jus' tell me what weapon ya wanna learn first?"

"Longbow," Ava said now, her hands lovingly stroking the birch limbs, fingers tracing the ivy inlay. "Where'd you find this?"

He ducked his head, hair hiding his face. "Made it."

"You made this?" She repeated incredulously. "The bow and the quiver?"

He nodded. "Arrows, too." He pulled one part-way out of the quiver. "See? Turkey feathers. Still gotta stain it, yet."

She felt tears stinging her eyes, but she blinked them away. She didn't want to scare him, to make him think he'd upset her. Traditionally, the men she knew didn't hear a word she said, so to suddenly be gifted with something she had only mentioned in passing, while she was drunk, was foreign to her. And not only that, but he had gone out of his way to make it with his own hands. He had probably gotten splinters from carving the bow, bruised his fingers while tying the string taut, but he had counted those small injuries worth her happiness.

"Thank you, Daryl," she finally managed, her voice little more than a whisper. "I can't believe you made this for me."

"Ya like it?"

At the apprehension in his voice, she lifted her eyes to meet his. "I love it. It's amazing."

Daryl heaved an audible sigh and came to sit down beside her. "I'll finish it t'night, an' we can start tomorrow, after I meet with Aaron and the others." Then, figuring he sounded too pushy, he quickly added, "If ya want."

The mention of the man who was currently babysitting got Ava's mind turning, and she lifted a curious eyebrow and asked, "Did he know about this?" She held up the bow.

Daryl nodded.

"That's why he was so eager to take Chloe," Ava guessed.

"Nah," the hunter replied with a shake of his head. "'S good with kids, is all. He really did wanna spend time with 'er."

"Well, I'll have to make him his own batch of cookies to thank him."

Daryl pouted. "What 'bout me? I don't get cookies?"

She smiled and leaned over to gently kiss his cheek. "I thought maybe you'd like something a little sweeter..."

"Stop," he warned in his low voice, but it only served to further stoke the fire in her belly.

"Make me," she challenged, her tone almost matching his in its huskiness.

"Ava..."

She laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Y'know, if I were any other girl I'd be hurt by this constant rejection."

"I ain't..."

"But," she went on, her fingers pressed to his lips to quiet him, "I'm not any other girl."

He just stared at her.

There was so much he wanted to say, but no matter how hard he tried, the words stayed stuck on his tongue.

He wanted to tell her that she was more than any other girl. That she wasn't a girl at all. He wanted her to know she wouldn't be waiting forever. He wanted to put his hands on her, feel her smooth skin and silky hair. He wanted to tell her she was everything he ever wanted. That he never wanted to let her go.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't, not because those things weren't true, but because he didn't have the words. He'd never felt like this before, not even when he was an awkward 16-year-old with a crush on Kelly Miller. He'd been crazy about her but had never been able to get close to her, either physically or emotionally. He couldn't let her see the scars on his back, and he wouldn't let her see the ones in his mind. They talked and hung out, and she had even kissed him a few times, but that was as far as their relationship went. She had eventually showed interest in the class president, 6'2" and a complete jock, and Daryl faded into the background. He still wondered sometimes if they had gotten married, if they had survived the apocalypse, or if they now were two of those creatures stumbling through the country.

He needed to see Ava smile, to be the reason that she broke out into that gorgeous thousand-watt grin that brought a dimple out on her left cheek, like he had been a moment ago when he handed her gift to her. He wanted to kiss her, to feel her hands on his skin, wanted to feel all those terrifying feelings that Will Dixon had almost completely beat out of him years ago.

Daryl's hand reached down and patted his pocket, where his latest letter from Carol sat folded into a tiny rectangle, the ink smudging where the sweat on his chest dampened it.

"Ava sounds lovely," she'd written. "Remember, be yourself, but not too much."

He knew what she meant by that - be Daryl Dixon, but not the Daryl that pushed others away out of fear. The one who had a big heart, not the one who ran when things got tough. Well, he wasn't running now, but he wasn't exactly ready to stand still yet, either.

Luckily, he was saved by Rick, who had emerged from the trailer he shared with Judith and Michonne and headed straight for the pair by the firepit.

"Daryl," the former sheriff called, lifting a hand in greeting, "got a minute?"

"Yeah," Daryl replied.

Before he could turn away, Ava took hold of his wrist and held him in place. "Thank you again. I love my gift."

He gave her a small grin and tossed his hair out of his eyes. "Good ta hear."

Ava watched him walk with Rick toward the gardens, then looked down at the bow in her hands and felt her heart swell with pride. Daryl Dixon had made her a present. She could still hardly believe it. Leaning the bow beside her against the log, she looked at the quiver and saw that her name was burned into the buckskin he had used. The letters less than an inch tall, they were perfectly spaced and displayed on the front of the quiver, and she could imagine him bent over the piece, blue eyes wide as he concentrated on getting everything just right. She wondered how long it had taken him to make the set, how many hours he had worked. He had to have done it at night; she knew he had been busy during the day. That was probably how he managed to keep it a surprise as well, as he often stayed awake while everyone else was sleeping and so no one questioned why he would be sitting by the fire in the middle of the night, carving a piece of wood or sharpening arrows. Not that many people would have asked him, anyway. Most of the newcomers here were still too cowed by his gruff nature to bother him, and those who knew him knew he went through bolts like crazy and liked to keep a plentiful supply handy.

She took her gifts into the spare room in Daryl's trailer and set them on the dresser Maggie had let her take from the manor house, then sat down on the bed with her legs hanging over the edge. Her eyes wandered around the room, noticing just then that the wallpaper was peeling from the corner above the door, and she absently wondered if there was any glue laying around somewhere. The playpen sat near the bed, close enough that Ava could reach over the edge of the mattress to gently soothe the baby without picking her up. A stuffed rabbit had somehow escaped the playpen and lay on the floor, and with a sigh Ava got off the bed and picked it up. Tossing it back into the makeshift crib, she went to the window and looked out.

Most of the residents of Hilltop were outside in small groups of two or three, some of them milling around and just enjoying the sunshine, while others pointed out the places they thought would be the best spots to put new gardens and buildings. She could see Aaron wandering between the groups, occasionally kneeling in front of a rose bush or plum tree and showing them to Chloe. He picked a stalk of soft pampas grass and let it brush against the baby's cheek, his lips moving as he likely named the plant and asked her if she liked it. Chloe reached up and clutched the stem in her tight fist, and even from this distance Ava could see Aaron laugh as he gently untangled it from her fingers.

This was her home.

Their home.

And it would be that, until the day it wasn't. She wasn't naive enough to think that they would stay here forever. The world might finally be settling, but even as before there were ups and downs, and nothing was ever certain. She might not agree with Daryl that this place wasn't real, but she understood why he was afraid to trust it. As a child and young adult, he had never had stability. Abused by his father and left behind by his mother, as soon as he was old enough he'd gone chasing after Merle, doing whatever he said in a bid to at least feel wanted by someone. They had wandered around the South, picking up odd jobs and raising hell wherever they went.

And then the Turn happened, upending whatever small bit of normalcy Daryl had found. Once again he was thrown into chaos, trying to not only survive the environment but now dodging flesh-eating people as well. They ran into Rick and the others shortly after that, which was when Merle hatched his genius plan to rob the camp. But Daryl had seen something in these people, and though he didn't recognize it at the time he would later understand what it was.

Love.

Humanity.

Compassion.

At first, even those traits had not been enough to keep him close, as he was torn between his loyalty to his brother and finally feeling accepted. It took seeing the contrast between Merle's cold-bloodedness and the camp's sense of community to make Daryl understand that he did not belong with Merle, hurting people just to take care of themselves.

Ava was certainly glad he had not stayed with his brother.


TBC...