Samson & Delilah

Alexis carefully carried the cardboard box down the sidewalk, fighting the urge to turn and run, knowing she had to face her fears. She had brought these people here, Rick the whirlwind she'd reaped, and there was no turning back now. She'd already stalled for time by taking a detour to Eric's house to check on him and clean herself up, her apprehension over Aaron being there allayed by the knowledge he'd gone on another wild goosechase after Buttons, who had been seen running past the walls again that morning during their absence.

Sam had first spotted the black horse galloping past the gate a month or so back, instantly christening it Buttons on the spot, Aaron taking it upon himself to bring the horse within Alexandria's walls. But he was no horse wrangler, and so far his attempts at horse whispering had failed miserably. Alexis had been a keen horse-rider during her teenage years, so fancying herself quite the expert, she'd stepped into the fray, only to be thoroughly humiliated, almost earning a kick in the head for her pains. The fall of civilization had turned the horse wild, and now it was out of control, lashing out at anyone who came near it, before taking off into the wilderness again.

Nursing a cup of coffee, Eric had sat on the sofa with Alexis, his ankle propped up on a footstool, intrigued and upset all at once, curious about those she had saved, whilst giving her a thorough dressing down for putting her life on the line to do so. But even though Aaron was angry at Alexis for what she'd done, despite everything, Eric approved of her actions. They couldn't play God with other people's lives; sometimes they had to make that leap of faith, gambling on a slim chance.

Afterwards, she'd taken a quick shower, washing the blood and dirt away, ridding herself of reality. For a moment, she'd stared at her reflection, remembering the girl she'd been, not recognizing the woman she'd become, before turning away from the mirror, denying the darkness within. Ditching her denim shorts and cow-print vest, she'd donned an ankle-length khaki skirt, teaming it with a long sleeved red top and her favourite battered blue tennis shoes, before piling her damp hair atop her head, the style accentuating her slanting eyes, making her look decidedly feline.

Since Aaron was out of the house, she'd lounged about Eric's luxurious kitchen for a while, stuffing herself silly with her favourite cinnamon monkey roll bread whilst Eric propped his ankle up on the kitchen counter, telling Alexis about the residences Aaron had picked out for Rick and his group, wondering which one they would choose, talking at length about which one he would go for based on the fireplaces alone, extolling the virtues of adjustable light intensity and flamespeed rolled louvers, madly in love with the idea of a mature-fire log presentation and coal-style grate.

After that interlude, with her stomach straining against the waistband of her skirt, Alexis had finally forced herself to leave the shelter of Eric's domestic prattle and home cooking, and now here she was, walking straight into the lion's den. Gritting her teeth, she took a shortcut through the Miller family's back yard to avoid going past her old home, if it had ever even been that, before stepping back on the sidewalk again.

As she walked, Enid came round the corner, her face its usual blank mask, eyes deliberately empty of expression. She passed Alexis without acknowledging her, pretending to be absorbed in straightening the strap of her rucksack, Alexis ignoring her in turn. She'd been the one to let the teenager in, only to regret it, something about Enid's sullen silences setting her on edge. Ron was now enamoured of Enid, but it was obvious the emotion wasn't reciprocated, Alexis not knowing how to warn him to guard his heart.

It was hard to reconcile the Enid of now with the girl at the gate, the memory of Enid's bloodstained lips and haunted look reminding Alexis of Rick and his group. They were both from out there, that uncharted territory Deanna sought to subjugate with her walls and words, Alexis infecting Alexandria with the outside, allowing it entrance, not knowing if she was sowing the seeds of its salvation or downfall.

Alexis slowed to a stop at the sight of Daryl sitting on the front porch steps, waxing the string of his crossbow, face contorted in concentration. Sensing her stare, he glanced up at her, shaking his shaggy hair back, brow creasing, eyes narrowing into slits. Alexis stood her ground, jaw tightening, eyes narrowing in turn, refusing to be intimidated. They were on her turf now, and she held the upper hand, not them.

"What you gawpin' at, Goldilocks?" Daryl asked abruptly. He'd sized Alexandria up with one swift glance, seeing it as a sitting duck just waiting to be blown out of the water. Those within its walls were fools, and now they were expecting him to become one as well, but hell would freeze over and become an ice-rink for the undead before that happened.

"I've brought over a hamper," Alexis said uneasily, "just a few bits and pieces."

Daryl eyed her cardboard box suspiciously, wondering if it was some trick or trap. Any hampers he'd seen in the past had been fancy-assed affairs, all wicker baskets and red ribbons, packed with caviar and champagne, not some sad battered box with a few tins rattling around inside. "Take it roun' the back," he said, losing interest, "mebbe Carol can do somethin' with it."

Alexis hesitated, before remembering Carol was the one she'd dubbed the psycho housewife, Carol's pleasant smile sitting at odds with her hard eyes. Leaving Daryl to his own devices, she went round the back, steeling herself for another string of set-downs. Taking a deep breath, she went up the steps, rapping the door with a hand that shook. For several long moments, there was nothing but silence, Alexis entertaining the thought of fleeing, abandoning the box to its own fate, but then the door creaked open, a pair of bright blue eyes meeting her own through the gap, making her do a double-take.

"Rick?" Alexis said stupidly, taking a step back at the sight of his clean-shaven face, making him look like a completely different man.

"What do you want?" he said defensively, his shoulders hunching slightly, feeling open and exposed under her shocked stare.

"I - I brought you a hamper," Alexis stuttered, feeling like she had fallen into a parallel universe.

Rick hesitated before opening the door, stepping aside to let her in. But Alexis just stood there, struggling to reconcile this shirtless stranger with the Rick who had held a gun to her head, the memories making her think twice about going anywhere near him again. Yet she'd deliberately sought him out, when she could have kept her distance, so pulling herself together, she went inside, Rick all but slamming the door behind her.

"It's not much," she said in a nervous rush, setting the cardboard box down on the table, "Olivia is the one who'll sort out your supplies - but there's baby food here and some tinned fruit" -

- "I said, what do you want?" Rick repeated, advancing on her, his face resuming its usual ruthless lines.

Alexis stared at him, her throat turning dry, her hand instinctively reaching for a machete no longer there. She'd been forced to hand over all her weapons upon returning to Alexandria, knowing Rick and his group had been made do to the same, the knowledge affording her scant comfort, not when there were kitchen knives lying around within easy reach of Rick's hand.

"Don't look at me like that!" Rick snapped, making her flinch.

"What, like you're a monster?" Alexis snapped back, trying and failing to fight her fear.

"This ain't a game," Rick said, jabbing his finger at her, "so drop the goddamn act."

Alexis shook her head in disbelief. "I'm just trying to help you," she said, angry tears springing to her eyes, "nothing else. There's no ulterior motive to my actions" -

- "Stop the fancy-assed college bitch talk," Rick said bitterly, "you ain't foolin' anybody, least of all me. You offered us sanctuary and in return we offered you death. I battered your boyfriend back there, and threatened to put a bullet between your eyes. Why would you still want to help us after all that?"

"First of all, Aaron has a boyfriend," Alexis hissed, "and nobody knows what you did to us out there, least of all Deanna. I understand why you acted like that, Aaron too, but Deanna wouldn't. She wants to believe in the best of people, even when she's contradicted time and time again by the opposite" -

- "Did they name this place after you or somethin'?" Rick interrupted, startling Alexis again.

"No, they didn't," Alexis spat, recovering herself.

Rick just nodded, not looking the slightest bit interested.

"What do you mean you offered us death?" Alexis said suddenly, looking at him like he was mad. "Why can't you just say you threatened us and leave it at that? This isn't a George R.R. Martin novel we're in."

Rick just shrugged his shoulders, infuriating her further.

"You have shaving cream on your chin by the way," Alexis pointed out acerbically, unable to hold back any longer, "plus you need a haircut as well - it's an absolute mess."

"I used to be quite the beauty queen," Rick said coldly, wiping his face clean with the back of his hand. "But standards tend to slip when you're walkin' the road, slowly starvin' to death."

Alexis bit her lip, knowing she deserved that. "Look, do you want me to cut your hair for you?" she said in a rush, startling Rick this time.

"You wanna give me a makeover now?" he said incredulously, amused against his will. "What's next, a holiday to the Bahamas?"

"Do you want a haircut or not?" Alexis flared up, knowing she would feel a lot better if she had a pair of scissors in her hand, evening the odds.

"What, is it mandatory?"

"Completely compulsory."

Rick tilted his head back, appraising Alexis, studying the swanlike curve of her neck, the black eye that marred the strangely striking symmetry of her features. But her beauty meant nothing to him, being false currency, just another trap to trick him into. He only saw the storm within, the fire that threatened to burn him and his out of existence. This girl had got past all their defences, bringing them to their knees by bringing them back to this so called Safe-Zone. Nowhere was safe, least of all here.

"I worked in my sister's hair salon for three years straight," Alexis said, rolling her eyes, "so there'll be no bowls involved, I promise."

Rick snorted, shaking his head to himself, but he sat down on a kitchen stool all the same, wondering at himself for humouring her. As she bustled about the kitchen, he watched her every movement, unconsciously caught by the ungraceful sweep of her hands as she searched through the drawers for the scissors; dwelling on the way the light glinted off her gold hair.

"You better not try anythin' with those scissors," Rick warned as she came over, now armed with an alarmingly large pair of silver scissors, a towel flung over her arm.

"Or what?" Alexis challenged, throwing the towel across his bare shoulders.

"Or you'll regret it."

"Maybe you will," Alexis said coldly, before beginning, an unknowing Delilah to his Samson.

Tired of fighting you
Seems like everything I do
Even when I win, I lose with you...