Chapter 10

Anna shifted uncomfortably, her head resting against the driver's side window. She'd stuffed her raincoat between her head and the door, but it hadn't done much to keep the muscles in her neck from stiffening in the night. She breathed sharply through her nose, crossed her arms tighter over her chest, and closed her eyes.

Only to open them again after a few minutes of restlessness built up in her bones. She kicked her legs in the air a bit to dispel the weary energy. She didn't understand how she could be so tired and unable to sleep at the same time.

In the darkness of the cab, the sight of her watch glowing sickly green caught her attention. 6:46 in the morning. With an exhausted sigh, Anna dragged her hands roughly down the sides of her face.

She was calling it now. Another sleepless night.

Cassie was worried about her, she knew. Ever since they'd joined the group a month ago, the number of hours a night she would close her eyes had dwindled, which, in Cassie's eyes, was counterintuitive. One of the reasons they'd joined a group was so that they could split the labor across more people. That way, Anna could actually sleep through the night every so often.

But that was hypothetically. In reality, Anna couldn't sleep surrounded by them. In reality, she felt like they'd stepped into a pit of poisonous snakes that hadn't decided if they wanted to befriend them or bite them. She realized how dramatic that sounded, even in the privacy of her own mind. They'd been nothing but kind to Cassie, if justifiably wary around Anna. Yet she couldn't shake the deeply ingrained behavior.

She wasn't wired to relax.

She was tempted to slip out of the car and walk around to clear her head, but a quick peek out of the window crushed that temptation quickly. Even though she knew that the Hyundai was fifty feet away, at most, she couldn't see through the thick fog that wrapped around them. If those murderous rapists that she and Daryl had encountered on their hunting trip were out there, she had no way of knowing.

Immediately after they'd come back from their hunting trip to their camp—though to call a circle of cars parked just off the highway a "camp" was a stretch—Daryl dragged her over to where Rick was cleaning his gun, alone. The others were either checking the makeshift alarms that surrounded them or tucking themselves into the cars, wrapped in thick coats and blankets, breathing puffs of white air even inside.

(According to Cassie, it was almost December. When the mornings started cold, the day stayed cold. They'd woken up a few times to a layer of ice on their windshields. It was those mornings that Anna wished she still had her credit cards.)

"How many?" Rick had asked wearily, glancing up from his loose gun parts.

Daryl'd said, "Fifteen. Probably more of 'em, though; their cars were empty."

If Rick was a more emotional man, he probably would've thrown his Python. He'd sighed and run a hand through his greasy hair. "You hear what they said?"

"Only some," Daryl'd said. It had been enough, frankly—enough filth to last a lifetime, but Anna wasn't so naïve as to believe she'd never hear worse. "They were packin' some serious heat and they weren't too friendly. 'S a bad combo."

Anna had scoffed at that. Rick and Daryl looked at her in surprise. "'Weren't too friendly,'" she'd sneered in a bitter mockery of his accent. "You always sugarcoat your words, Mr. Rogers?" Rick had shaken his head imperceptibly in Daryl's direction, warning him off of lunging at her.

Through gritted teeth, he'd restated, in a voice full of implications, "We wouldn't wanna run into 'em."

Instinctively, each of their eyes darted to their most vulnerable and most beloved. Anna's had flickered to Cassie, helping Hershel take Lori's pulse and blood pressure. Rick, to Carl, then Lori; Daryl, to Beth and Carol, and Lori's growing stomach.

Rubbing his chin, Rick had asked, "They went south?"

"Yeah."

"Then we'll go north," he'd declared. "Avoid them altogether."

They'd nodded gravely. They didn't always see eye to eye to eye—Daryl, Anna, and Rick— but as their guarded eyes met again over the hood of the Hyundai, they knew were in complete agreement. Their people came before their differences. They always would.

Then Rick had added, in a quieter voice, "Let's keep this to ourselves for now. Don't need to get everyone worked up over nothing."

Anna disagreed with him. By the look on Daryl's face, he hadn't agreed either. But she knew she couldn't rely on Daryl to speak against him; the man had his nose so far up Rick's ass, she often wondered how he could breathe. "Don't you think it'd be a good idea to give everyone a heads-up?" she asked slowly, full of scorn.

Rick either hadn't caught her derision or ignored it altogether as he shook his head. "No, we've got enough to worry about right now. Chances are: we won't run into them."

"Well, your plan is foolproof," Anna had said sardonically, narrowing her eyes at the man. No wonder his group paced around him, throwing him dirty looks when they thought he couldn't see them. How many other secrets was he keeping from them? How many did he keep from her?

You're one to talk, a soft voice whispered snidely, one that only she could hear. She ignored it.

He narrowed his eyes, his jaw locked. "This doesn't change anything. Our plans are the same: find somewhere safe to live. It ain't pertinent to those plans, so it doesn't need to be shared," he'd hissed.

He seemed surprised when she let the subject go with little more than a shrug and a grimace. But she saw that he wasn't going to budge, so she stopped arguing. Rick dismissed them then, with one last warning glare directed at Anna.

"Annie?" A small voice dispelled the memory of Rick's withering look. Then Cassie's face was luminous in the darkness of the cab, peeking over the front seat. Anna shifted onto her side to face the girl, her arms tightly pulled into her torso; to be as small as she felt.

"Yeah?"

"Can you braid my hair?" she whispered, patting down her mass of curling hair with no success. It sprang back up as soon as she lifted her hand.

She smiled up at Cassie, the only smile she had reserved, and sat up, crossing her legs under her thighs. "Sure," she agreed, patting the passenger's seat. Grinning, Cassie tumbled over the back of the seat and sat on her heels, facing the window.

"Thanks," she sighed, her shoulders slumping the moment Anna's hands tangled into her hair. Anna split her hair into two pieces, for two French braids. Cassie preferred two to one; she said it was more secure. Her sister had preferred two braids as well, so Anna had plenty of practice, though their hair was as different as night and day. Ruby'd had wavy blonde hair; Cassie had thick, dark hair in tight curls that grew like a bush. She often complained about how unmanageable it was, but Anna adored it. These days, they rarely found time to sit still. She cherished the time it took to do her hair.

Halfway down the first braid, Cassie spoke up, "I know we don't do the whole 'talking about our feelings' thing, but I just feel like I should apologize." She glanced down at her lap.

Anna's hands slowed for a second. "What?"

"You're mad at me," Cassie stated flatly, like it was a blatant fact. "I think it was because I asked Rick to teach me how to shoot."

Anna's heart clenched. "No," she said, shaking her head though Cassie couldn't see her. "No, that's not it. I'm not mad at you."

"You've just been so quiet—I mean, quieter than usual," Cassie amended quickly.

She tied off the end of her braid and gently tugged the bottom. Cassie put her chin over her shoulder and looked at her. "I'm not mad at you," she said urgently. "I could never be mad at you."

"You've been mad at me before," Cassie said, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Remember Franklin?"

She didn't remember half the names of the places they'd been, but she did remember that small town in North Carolina very vividly. Anna had told Cassie to stay in the gas station they were holed up in while she ransacked the restaurant next door, but she sneaked out to a dozen biters. If Anna hadn't glanced out the window when she did, Cassie would've been killed. After the incident, Anna didn't scold the girl, but she'd been so shaken up that she couldn't trust herself to open her mouth around Cassie without unleashing her torrent of fears. They ended up not talking for ten days, not until they absolutely had to communicate again, when their canteens ran dry and they hadn't found a river in miles. Months on and she still didn't know why Cassie had disobeyed her.

But she hadn't been angry at her. She'd been terrified for her.

She asked, softly, "You thought I was mad at you?"

"You weren't?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"God, no," Anna snorted, smoothing the first braid down before starting on the other half of her hair. "No. I was…I was really scared."

Cassie tilted her head back a bit. "Why?"

As astute as she was, she didn't seem to realize that Anna would've lost the last thing she had in the world if she'd gotten bit. Cassie was the only person she had left. She didn't even have herself anymore.

"When…that biter was on you," she started, haltingly, unable to keep her body from shuddering at the memory. "I imagined it biting you and what would come after. How I'd have to…" she couldn't bring herself to finish that thought. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. For days, it just kept running through my brain; around and around and—and—"

Cassie turned around and put her hand on Anna's shaking one in comfort. "It's okay," she soothed.

Anna tugged her half-braided hank of hair to turn her back around, embarrassed that Cassie now knew the extent of her dysfunction. It's what you get for telling her, a snide voice sneered in her mind. You're so desperate for her approval you'll tell her anything.

"I was just… working through it," she settled on saying. "It was something I had to deal with and it would've been wrong of me to unload all of my worries on you."

Cassie gave no indication with the back of her head that let Anna know she understood. "But I didn't almost die this time," she stated as a question.

"Thank Christ…" she muttered before shaking her head. "No…this time, I was angry at myself."

"Why?"

She tied off the end of her braid and dropped her hands back into her lap. "I scared you."

"What?" Cassie apparently found her claim laughable. She sobered quickly at the solemn look she got when she turned to look at Anna. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

Anna averted her eyes away from Cassie's piercing gaze. "I know I get…intense sometimes, especially when we have shooting practice."

She blinked. "Oh. Well, yeah, you do." She shook her head. "But I'm not scared of you; I'm scared of disappointing you."

That threw Anna for a loop. Her entire life, she'd always been the one afraid of disappointing people. No one was afraid of disappointing her, though that was usually because they didn't even know who she was. She frowned. "You've never disappointed me."

"Really? Because I know I'm a terrible shot and I'm not getting any better."

She struggled to argue with that point. Cassie barely knew how to hold a gun. Actually, sometimes Anna felt less safe when Cassie was holding a gun as opposed to when she was weaponless. "You're…not terrible," she finally said lamely.

"I'm not as good as you think I can be," Cassie amended. "I'm not good with guns and I'm never going to be good with them. I've accepted that, but you seem to think I'm going to become a sharpshooter or something."

"I just want you to be the best you can be," Anna said to her hands in her lap. "And I want you to be safe."

"I know." She rolled her eyes. "I'm probably safer without a gun in my hand."

Sometimes, Cassie's acuity was frightening.

"Speaking of safe…" Anna said as casually as she could manage, figuring it was as good of a segue as any. "While I was out hunting yesterday, I saw a group of guys ransacking a couple of stores."

Her eyes widened. "What?" she asked, leaning forward while glancing out of the windshield, as if she could spot them through the haze. "You told Rick, right? Because he didn't say anything yesterday…"

Anna bit the inside of her bottom lip. "Rick's playing this one close to the vest," she tried to say as calmly as was possible in her disgust. She didn't agree with his decision to keep it from the group.

"Meaning…he told you not to tell anyone," Cassie stated slowly. Anna nodded and she sighed, exasperatedly. "Then, why'd you tell me?"

Anna blinked. "What?"

"He obviously trusted you not to tell anyone," she exclaimed. "And now you're telling me."

"He doesn't trust me at all," Anna argued. "He would've kept this to himself if I wasn't the one telling him."

She shrugged and her nonchalance frightened Anna. She'd become complacent in their time with the group, as Anna had become more and more wary. "He probably has a good reason for not telling us about them."

Anna stifled a laugh at that. Rick was no more capable of discerning threats than she was. "What?"

Cassie quirked her brow in that way she did when she was refraining from rolling her eyes. "I don't think he's keeping it from everyone out of malicious intent."

"You don't know that," Anna replied darkly. Cassie rolled her eyes.

She tried again, more seriously, "He gave me some bullshit about not wanting to worry everyone."

"He doesn't seem to think it's something to worry about."

"I do," Anna argued.

"Yeah, but you worry about everything," Cassie countered. "And I know you're exhausted because of it."

"No." Anna shook her head vehemently. Cassie tried to turn every conversation about her sleeping patterns, or lack thereof, and she wasn't having it. Not now, when she was trying to keep her safe. "We're not talking about me. This is not the point of me telling you."

"But—"

"Cassie." Her mouth snapped shut. "I don't give a shit what Rick thinks. I'm telling you." She grabbed her by the shoulders, steering her gaze into hers. "I heard them talk. They're rapists and murderers and they'll rape and murder you if they get the chance. You're not gonna give them that chance."

She was defiant for only a moment more before her shoulders slumped in resignation. "What am I supposed to do?" Cassie asked, tremulously. "Now that I know?"

"You're going to be ready for anything," Anna replied, taking her hands off of her shoulders. "And if we run across them, we're not playing heroes. We're running."

"What?" Cassie's eyes widened. "And leave them all behind?"

"Yes."

She stared at her like she didn't know who she was. "We're a part of this group now, Annie," she said. "We have to stick together."

"That's a nice sentiment," Anna sneered. "But I'm not gonna get you killed just to make a point about the power of friendship. People can talk about how noble you are when you're dead but you'll never hear it, so what's the point?"

"You'd die for me, wouldn't you?" Cassie asked.

Anna recoiled at the question, though more at the uncertain waver in her voice. "Of course I would," she said vehemently and thought, I'd do much more than die for you.

She nodded and looked no more comforted by the thought. "I'd die for you, too," she said. "And I'd do it for them."

White hot rage bubbled up inside of her and she wasn't sure if it was jealousy or the mere thought of Cassie's death that caused it. "You're not dying for me or them."

"Isn't it better to die for someone than to die for no reason at all?"

"No, it's better to just not die. And if you have the option of living, you're taking it, regardless of who dies."

"Annie—"

"Cassie, please. Just…promise me that you'll run."

She looked ready to argue until the sun came up, but she stopped at the sight of Anna's shaking hands. Then she sighed, mercifully ignoring her fear, and said, "I promise."

"Good."

They were silent for a long time. Anna didn't know what Cassie was thinking. She could guess; she was great at wildly speculating what people were thinking and plotting. Sneaking a glance at the girl, she saw the frown. Troubled. She's angry with you for being so cold. Maybe she's just realized what a monster you are. A liar and a schemer.

She shook her head. As smart as she was, Cassie wasn't a mind reader. She didn't know the extent of Anna's lying and manipulation, because Anna was careful. Her web of deceit remained intact because she made sure no one could even test the strands. In that way, she was no better than Rick, who kept information from his group so that they wouldn't worry. It was cowardly, in Anna's opinion, lying to keep his people happy.

Then you must be the cowardly fucking lion.

Yes, she realized the irony in her judgment of Rick. How many lies had she told Cassie so that the girl would stay by her side? How many more would she tell before her web collapsed?

Anna wondered if she was seeing the aftermath of Rick's web of lies destroyed. It would explain the tension that pervaded the camp and why they argued at every turn. And rather than convincing her to come clean, the mistrust reaffirmed her concerns.

She had secrets and they would die with her.

Cassie yelped when a dark hand appeared out of the fog and rapped against the passenger's side window. Anna's hand instinctively jumped to her gun, but they both relaxed when T-Dog's face appeared. He tapped his wrist, then held up ten fingers and pointed towards where the Hyundai was parked.

Meeting in ten minutes at the Hyundai. She gave him an affirmative thumbs-up. He nodded and disappeared into the mist.

"Annie," Cassie said softly. Anna was afraid to hear what she had to say. "I know you just want me to be safe. I'm not angry with you."

And all the tension in her shoulders melted away. Cassie wasn't angry with her. By extension, she still wanted her by her side. How could she think that Cassie would hate her? Cassie was forgiving and sweet. Cassie redeemed her. Cassie was the only thing that Anna did remotely right by. And still, Anna could look her in the face, smile, and lie again.

"I know you're not."

Because Anna knew nothing and it's what kept her awake.

The walker in the corner of the bedroom wasn't a walker. It hadn't been in a long time, Daryl surmised as he pulled out his knife. When it caught sight of him approaching, it reached up with its only remaining limb and wheezed pathetically. With a grunt, he ended its groans for good.

Wiping his knife against a fallen curtain, he glanced around the room. He didn't know where its legs had gone, but they had to be somewhere in here. He didn't know how else it had gotten upstairs; not unless it dragged itself up the staircase with one broken arm.

"Clear," he called over his shoulder to Glenn and Maggie. When there was no answer, he rolled his eyes. He hoped they were actually clearing the rest of the cabin and not making out in the bathroom or something.

Of the cabins they'd cleared, which was only two, this one was the least desirable. The half a walker had bled all over the carpet and the stench of death was eye-watering. Maybe if they aired it out, it would be livable, but for now this cabin was low on the list of desirables.

He opened the closet door, slamming it shut when the smell came flooding out. Taking a deep breath and clapping his hand over his nose, he opened the door again. His lip curled at the sight.

Found the legs.

When Glenn walked in, he wrinkled his nose and declared, "It smells terrible in here," like Daryl had something to do with it.

"Put a walker in a house all summer; that's what happens," he replied, pointing to the mess in the closet and the bleeding corpse in the corner.

"Ugh," Glenn groaned, shaking his head. "But even with this cabin out of the picture, there are enough for everyone to sleep in their own beds."

Daryl thought that sounded like a terrible idea. When T-Dog mentioned this place—some "resort" on a lake with a bunch of cabins that he used to come to on church retreats—he'd been skeptical. So was Rick, but the rest of the group got excited at the thought of the place. Their own beds! If Rick had shot the idea down, Daryl was almost certain they'd have mutinied against him.

"We'll talk to Rick," he said diplomatically. In what kind of fucked up world was he a diplomat?

In this one, I guess.

When they all reconvened outside of the main lodge—the sign hoisted over the door proudly proclaimed the place to be Harrison Lake's Resort and Marina—where the cars were parked and those without guns sat, T-Dog was beaming.

"Yo, do I deliver, or do I deliver?" he crowed. "Running water, propane stoves, lakefront property. Y'all can just line up in an orderly fashion to shake my hand."

"No fences," Daryl stated flatly, because that fact alone should have been enough to throw a wrench into T-Dog's frankly obnoxious preening.

He did not falter in the slightest. It annoyed him.

"We've got a lake on two sides of us, at least," Rick said, shading his eyes as he inspected the water. Daryl followed his gaze. The corner of his mouth quirked up against his will when he saw Cassie and Carl standing on the bank, skipping rocks. Cassie was clearly hopeless at skipping stones, though, and when she shoved Carl, he was laughing so hard that he lost his balance and fell into the muddy soil.

His smile faded. It was nice to see the kids be kids, but he knew this place wasn't safe. A false sense of security was sometimes worse than being out in the open. When you're out in the open, at least you're on your guard.

"Jus' means we'll have to swim if a herd hits us from this side," Daryl said. "This place ain't any better than anywhere else we've been."

"Maybe we can make it better," Carol said softly. They looked at her, tucking her arms around herself. She pursed her lips. "We can't run forever."

Hershel stepped forward. "We don't need to figure out a long term solution right now," he agreed. "But we should stay here for a while—get cleaned up, sleep in actual beds; figure out how to be human again. We need some time to get our strength back, Rick."

Rick looked like he wanted to rub his face in weariness, but he couldn't because of the blood drenching his hands. When he suddenly walked away to prowl around the perimeter in silence, none of them were surprised. He needed time to think and nothing any of them said would affect his decision.

Figure out how to be human again. For some of their group, that wouldn't be so difficult. Glenn and Maggie fell into such easy banter with T-Dog that Daryl was simultaneously in awe and in envy of them. Hershel and Beth would have a harder time; they were still reeling from the events at the farm, though they bore their grief silently. It was the Grimes family that he was genuinely worried about, Rick especially. Rick was so far gone, and he didn't know if any measure of time could bring him back.

Daryl knew Cassie would enjoy the time settled down from the moment he stepped foot into the main lodge. A bookshelf filled with tomes on every subject under the sun would keep her entertained for hours. He'd checked out a few of the titles and nearly keeled over from the boredom they inspired, so he figured they'd be perfect for her.

As for Anna, he didn't really give a shit what she wanted or needed. She'd made it abundantly clear that she'd sell them all out in a heartbeat if it meant saving her skin or Cassie's, so he wasn't going to concern himself with her anymore. He glanced over at her, leaning against the cab of her truck with her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed on Rick's pacing form. She was so tensed up that her shoulders nearly touched her ears.

"Is anyone going to talk to him?" Carol whispered loudly.

"Be my guest," Daryl retorted, waving an arm in Rick's direction. She was hesitant to take his invitation, though, as he expected she'd be. Rick wouldn't hurt any of them, but he did look a little prone to biting someone at the moment.

"If anything, we'll stay for the night," Hershel said. "He's just deciding if we're going to try to make this work or not."

Glenn and Maggie stood at attention, a picture of youthful exuberance. "We'll start moving in, then," said Maggie, patting T-Dog on the arm to help them.

"Maybe we should wait for Rick," Lori said quietly. Daryl didn't know how she decided when she was going to play dutiful wife and when she was going to blame him for every horrible thing that had happened, but it seemed arbitrary. For now, she was supportive. In an hour, she might be combative. Maybe it was pregnancy hormones; either way, Daryl was glad he didn't have to deal with her 24/7 like Carol did. As far as he was concerned, the woman was a saint.

Thankfully, Rick came back then, before they could begin bickering in hushed whispers. His eyes were still glazed over in deep thought, but he had an answer for them.

"We're staying." There was a collective sigh of relief. He held up his hand as though they'd all started shouting their protests at him. "But for tonight, I want us all in the main lodge. We can figure out sleeping arrangements tomorrow."

"Sounds good," Glenn said. "Thanks, Rick."

Shaking his head, he said something so quietly that only Daryl, who standing right beside him, could hear his words. "Don't thank me yet."

The kids were particularly enthusiastic about finding the resort. A quick look around proved fruitful when Beth and Carl discovered two dozen deflated inner tubes in a storage shed. Even after Carol gently reminded them that inner tubing in the wintertime would be a very unpleasant experience, they were not disheartened.

Somehow, they must've gotten it into their heads that Harrison Lake's Resort and Marina could be their home for a long time; at least until the water warmed up enough to go swimming in the lake. Anna hoped Cassie realized that they wouldn't be here long.

Because as much as she hated to agree with Redneck Dixon, he was right. No fences meant that this place wasn't safe. In her opinion, they were wasting their time settling down here. But no one asked for her opinion, so she didn't bother giving it.

Still, she always welcomed an opportunity to see Cassie's radiant smile and she did so, often, in this new place. Though she'd been initially disappointed to hear that she wouldn't be sleeping in her own bed for at least another night, her disappointment fled the moment Glenn and Maggie unearthed a treasure trove of board games: Monopoly, Clue, a chess board missing its black queen and a few white pawns. Once the fire was built and dinner was warm in their stomachs, the youngest among them set out to play a game of Monopoly in its entirety.

Maggie asked Anna if she wanted in on the endeavor—very diplomatically, she acknowledged—but she backed off when Anna silently glared her down. So they set up the board on the threadbare carpet in front of the fireplace and gathered around—Maggie, Glenn, Beth, Carl, T-Dog, and Cassie—while the others watched, chuckling at how surprisingly horrible Cassie was at the game.

"Shut up, guys," she whined as Glenn wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

"This is really embarrassing for you, dude," he said. "How many digits of pi did you say you knew?"

"Knowledge of pi doesn't seamlessly translate to Monopoly skill, Glenn," she snapped, and her prim tone was enough to send them into peals of laughter again. This was apparently not her intention, as she crossed her arms and pouted.

"If we were playing chess, I'd be kicking all of your asses," she muttered petulantly.

T-Dog chuckled and mussed her hair. "We know; it's why we ain't playin' it," he said with a smile. She returned it easily and dove back in, despite her ineptitude.

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. Cassie took herself very seriously, as most kids her age did, but she was so forgiving that it was easy to forget she wasn't even a teenager yet.

Anna fiddled with a clump of her damp hair. It had been a long time since she was this clean. There were a few working showers in the lodge, but they all agreed that only one person should shower at a time. It was currently Rick's turn—he'd volunteered to go last, nobly—though he'd been in there for fifteen minutes, which was ten minutes more than their allotted shower time. Anna suspected he was trying to drown himself in heavily stubbled angst.

Her clothes were deemed too dirty to wear until they'd been washed, though Carol's exact words were more along the lines of an uttered, "Dear god." She found herself unable to argue with that, so after her shower, she'd yanked on a large pair of men's jeans that she had to fasten around her waist with a belt, courtesy of the owner's wardrobe, along with a stretched out sports bra and an extra-large t-shirt that T-Dog lent to her. Then, when the game of Monopoly began, she took up position on the windowsill, far from the rest of them, but still close enough to hear their lighthearted banter.

Even Dour Daryl, who'd been fairly vocal in his disapproval of the place, was smiling. She admitted that he was much handsomer under the thick layers of dirt he usually wore. Though her judgment of his looks might have been slightly colored by his sudden lack of stench. Sometimes when she stood downwind of him, she could swear that his smell could strip the paint from their cars. She never voiced that opinion because she knew she wasn't a bed of roses either.

But now that he didn't smell like a dog that had rolled around in its own vomit, she was impressed. If he had even an iota of charm, he could've been a real lady killer.

She suppressed a sigh when she saw Hershel get up out of his armchair and make his way over to her. Here we go, she thought, and steeled her defenses.

"You look dead on your feet," he said, and without waiting for an invitation, he pulled up a chair and sat in it. To his credit, he didn't look supremely proud of himself after he said it, as anyone else might have for making a terrible pun. For that reason alone, he immediately jumped to the top of her list of 'Favorite Living People Not Named Cassandra Taylor.' (Previously holding the coveted top position was Beth, simply because they'd never said a single word to each other.)

She didn't reply. It wasn't a question, anyway. Unfortunately, he quickly realized his error and opened his mouth again.

"Why don't you go and get some rest? I haven't taken a watch shift in a while, but I'm sure I can handle it."

"I'm fine," she said shortly, hoping that a harsh reply would be enough to ward him off, like it was with his daughter.

Hershel looked at her for a very long time, his eyes probing but not critical. She hated it nonetheless.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" he asked finally, only loudly enough for her to hear. She knew because she glanced around immediately after the words slipped out of his mouth, checking to make sure no one else heard. Not that anyone but Cassie would care, but she didn't need these people thinking she needed help.

Because she didn't.

She crossed her arms and pointedly glared anywhere but at him. He took this as an affirmation.

"I am a doctor," he said gently, as if that fact alone would make her break down in tears and divulge to him all of her troubles. She struggled to keep her eyes from rolling.

"I thought you were a vet," she said, nastily if she was being honest.

"It's a kind of doctor," he explained patiently.

It's a kind of my foot up your ass, old man. She didn't say this for several reasons; chiefest among them was because it made no sense. "Did Cassie talk to you?" she asked, glowering at the cheerful bedspread they'd pinned up to keep the firelight from shining out and attracting biters.

"No," he answered calmly. "Is she also worried about you?"

Damn it. He now fell behind T-Dog on her list, for nosing into her business. "She's a worrier," she said, faking a small smile. Pretending to be affable was something she had plenty of experience in; she would've been a shitty waitress if she was anything like herself.

He ignored her lame attempt at deflection. "You don't seem to be sleeping," he said.

She realized that she couldn't be as flippant with him as she could with the others. Glenn and Maggie were birds of a feather—an outrageous answer or an intense glare would frighten them away—while Daryl just got angry and stormed off.

She'd grown up with angry people. She was an angry person. Anger was easy to understand.

Hershel's patient concern was some other beast entirely.

She sighed. "It's not really your problem," she said softly.

"I suppose it isn't," he said. Then he chuckled and shook his head. "Maggie tells me that I'm a worrier, too."

Oh, god. She hoped he hadn't taken her faux amicability as a sincere invitation for more conversation. She made a noncommittal sound in her throat, her eyes never straying from the curtain.

He cleared his throat and leaned in to speak softly. "I know you don't have too much concern for your health, but you need to sleep. If not for yourself, then for her," he said, glancing at a giggling Cassie. She didn't look; she didn't need to. "You're a strong young lady and, I'll admit, you've lasted longer on fumes than most of us would have. But sooner or later, you're gonna slip up. You're gonna be so tired that someone's gonna get hurt. And I know you don't want it to be her."

Anna finally looked at him head on. His warning sounded vaguely like a threat, but he didn't seem to mean it as one. For whatever reason, he seemed genuinely concerned about her. But he knew she wouldn't respond to his actual worry of her wellbeing, so he went for the one thing she truly valued: Cassie's safety. It was a low blow and she was surprised he of all people would play that card.

She blinked back sudden tears. "I can't sleep," she admitted in a whisper. "Whenever I close my eyes, I see my sister die; again and again and then I start to think, 'What if it happens to Cassie?'" She struggled to control her breathing as it quickly became hyperventilation. He rubbed soothing circles into her back, his eyes filled with empathy. She covered her mouth with an unsteady hand and asked, "Is there something you can do?"

He produced a small white bottle from his pocket. "I have some pills that will help you sleep. Now, they'll make you a little groggy," he quickly explained when she tensed up. "But someone will be on watch the whole time you're sleeping, so there's no need to worry."

"I don't know…" she trailed off, carefully angling her tearful face away from the rest of the group. They didn't need to see her cry.

He carefully shook two oval pills into his hand. They were tiny in his palm and she stared at them, fear in her eyes. "Just take one of these," he urged her and tipped his hand into hers. She cupped her palms together to hold them. "It'll help."

"Thank you," she said, wiping the damp off of her cheeks and taking a steadying breath. "You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?" She laughed weakly. "It's kind of embarrassing."

He shook his head. "Of course not. But just so you know, no one here would judge you for grieving. We're all human here."

Are they? She smiled weakly. "I have to use the bathroom," she informed him, clenching her hand around the pills so tightly that she began to feel powder.

With one final pat on her back, he let her by, carefully placing his body between the group and her. She was almost touched by his thoughtfulness.

In the bathroom, she opened her hand. Etched into the pills was a familiar name: Xanax. Crow had taken medication upon medication to keep himself slightly sane; none of them prescribed, of course. This must've been one of them. She stared at them with detached curiosity.

Then, without another thought, she tipped her hand. The pills plopped into the toilet, the sound so small that the flush almost deafened her by contrast.

As if she'd take them, she thought, shaking her head and examining her face in the mirror. Without her customary foundation of dirt, the bags under her eyes did sort of take lives of their own. No wonder Hershel hadn't said anything about her sleeping habits until now.

She could've pushed him away or deflected him when he came worrying, but she didn't. Because if she had, he would've nodded and left her alone, and then gone to Rick with his observations. Then Rick would come to her—not worrying, but unyielding. Compared to Rick's cold wrath, Hershel's concern wasn't such a fearsome beast after all.

And while she had no trouble disobeying Rick, he was starting to realize the fact. Sooner or later, he would become the unstoppable force to her immovable object and she wanted to hold off on that as long as possible, because she wasn't as immovable as she would like to believe.

Perhaps she should have felt some shame for manipulating a man like Hershel, but he had tried it on her first. Maybe it was with the best intentions, but he'd done it all the same. So, she choked and cried and he melted like any good father would. Her own father wouldn't have soothed her as quickly as he did.

What a kind man, she thought as she smiled grimly at the weary girl in the mirror. How could he have ever thought he'd win?

She cracked her neck lazily and blew out the candle. And when the dark settled in, she saw her sister die again and again, but this time she didn't cry.

Thanks for reading/reviewing/favoriting/following! Sorry this took me so long and also sorry there isn't much Anna/Daryl interaction. It's coming, I promise.

Also, season finale?! I know it was, like, two weeks ago, but dude. What a cliffie. I can't believe we have to wait until October until we find out what the hell happens next. At least Game of Thrones is back.

I have questions for y'all to answer: (1) what are your thoughts on Anna? (2) what are your thoughts on Cassie? (3) what are your thoughts on their relationship? And favorite parts? Least favorite parts? Anything confusing? Lemme know what you think!