Rick had anticipated she'd be upset about the situation with Negan. He told himself he could deal with her temper. What happened to Glenn and Abraham was his fault. He took full responsibility for their deaths. He even owned what happened at that Savior outpost. It was his plan and he was the one who led the charge. He had done many things he wasn't proud of since she left him in that farmhouse.

He'd do them all again if he had too.

He could explain each and every one of his choices to her. Raya was a reasonable woman. She'd understand he hadn't any other options available when he made his decisions. She knew this world demanded split-second calls. That it required them to act in the heat of the moment. How could she not understand? She spent her entire career as a cop — and as Fenix — making decisions that nobody else wanted to make.

She, as well as those she worked with, fought the fights others were too afraid of. She did whatever was necessary to make sure people didn't end up hurt or killed. She struck with the ferocity of a lioness before he could get the first words passed his lips, though.

"The men you want me to avenge were co-conspirators who aided you in the commission of a crime." Acidic honey dripped from her tongue. "They're just as guilty as you. And they'd have received the same punishment as you had I or any member of my family been the one to hand out judgment."

"Raya—"

"No, Rick." She folded her arms across her chest. "You can't talk your way out of this. Not with me. I was a cop, same as you. I upheld the same laws that you once did. Laws," she added with a pointed look, "that I continue to uphold to the best of my ability so that there is some sort of civilization inside this hellhole we live in."

Every word burned another hole in his already bleeding heart. How could he argue with that? Murder was murder. No matter how justified he felt in his actions, the facts all came back with the same conclusion: they murdered those men.

"Raya..." he began but she silenced him with a wave of her hand.

"Had Negan let me handle things as I wanted to handle them, you and all those who were with you at that satellite depot would be sitting in the prison that I have and waiting to face judgment from the tribunal I'd have called to settle the matter."

A tribunal that no doubt would have included the very two men who instilled such a strong moral compass inside her: Batman and Gotham City Police Commissioner, Jim Gordon.

"What about what Negan did? Huh?" He demanded. "He murdered Glenn and Abraham right in front of us."

"Yes, he did," she agreed with a nod. "And before you ask, no, I do not agree with what he did. I find this entire matter utterly deplorable. People died and for what? So you could take over as the Hilltop's overlord? Or so he could wave his bat around and act like the King of the Apocalypse?" She sniffed. "Wow. You both really gained a lot here."

Rick felt himself bristle at her icy tone.

"They died because he's a goddamn lunatic."

"No, they died because of your actions at that satellite depot."

"And because he's a goddamn psychopath."

"Who was acting in accordance with tribal law."

"Tribal law?" He stared incredulously at her. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I'm very serious."

"How the hell do you figure that this was tribal law?"

"By its very definition." She sent him a look that would have melted ice cubes when he scoffed. "Unless you've forgotten that along with your morals?"

"Just remind me what it is," he snapped. "Smart ass."

"Tribal law," she said with a sniff, "is what applies when there's an absence of a governing authority to uphold the norms and laws of society."

"And that means what, exactly?"

"That a tribal authority is called upon to decide a civil or criminal matter. In this case, the tribal authority being Negan and his chosen manner of handling the matter to use Lucille."

"So?"

"So, it means Negan was justified in what he did because he was acting in accordance with tribal law."

"How?" Temper sizzled in every syllable. "Huh? How was he justified in what he did?"

"As the governing authority of the Saviors, it was up to him to seek justice for those you and your people killed in that satellite depot."

Logic had always been this woman's preferred, and admittedly, most powerful weapon. She wielded it with the same amount of grace and finesse that Michonne did her sword. As much as he wanted to deny, to disagree with her, he couldn't. She was right. As hard as it was to hear, to accept, it was the truth. No matter how justified they might feel in what they did, it was murder, plain and simple. And that made Negan the commanding authority to demand justice for what we did. Still, a part of him couldn't help but feel betrayed at her siding with the son-of-a-bitch.

"How can you stand there and defend him?" He bit the question out from between clenched teeth. "How can you justify what he did and say it was okay but that what we did was wrong?"

"In the same way that I will stand in front of him and defend you: with facts. And the facts," she added as he sputtered stupidly, "are that neither of you is right in what you did. You both murdered people. And why did you murder those people? For nothing less than pride, ego and your own selfish purposes."

"He's the one left to run around and do whatever the hell he wants."

"If I punish him, I have to punish you. And Rick..." She shook her head. "I don't want to punish you."

"What is it that you want then?"

"I want to save you."

That took the wind out of his sails. Saving him wasn't even on the list of things he figured she'd say. It should have been, though, he realized. Saving people was what this woman did. Even at the expense of herself. Rick studied her, a plethora of questions tumbling around inside his head. Who was reminding her to eat? Or badgering her into laying down and getting some sleep? Was there somebody stopping her from wading into a walker-infested building as if she didn't have a damned care in the world?

Rick had a feeling that the answer to those questions was a name he didn't especially want to hear. It can't be Negan taking care of her. It just can't be. That asshole doesn't give a shit about anybody but himself. As he thought it, though, something told him he was wrong. There was more between Raya and Negan than she was admitting. How to get the truth out of her? He didn't have a clue. The woman was like Fort Knox. Nobody got inside her mental vault unless she allowed them. And she's made it clear she doesn't want to discuss whatever her relationship with Negan is.

Not that he didn't have a damn good clue about what their relationship was. He just couldn't believe it was true. She can't be involved with that asshole, he thought as he ran a hand over his face. The thick bristles of his beard slid against his callused fingers and palm. Rick cringed as the rasping sound filled the silence. It was another reminder of how far he had fallen from the tree. He used to shave religiously. Growing a beard was something he was only allowed to do when he was on vacation. Now look at me, he thought, grimacing. I'm becoming a shaggy dog.

"I know I can't begin to understand what you've gone through since I left you in that farmhouse," he heard her say. "I know it had to be bad for it to break that moral fiber you had."

"We've done the worst sorts of things to survive," he said quietly. "They were what we needed to do at the time. I regret what we did but I don't apologize for doing it." He set a hand on Krypto's head. "The choice was either death or survival. I chose survival. I hope you can understand that."

"I do." She gave a slight nod. "Believe me, I do. However, I can't help but feel that some of this is my fault."

"Your fault?" One brow tilted. "How?"

"If I hadn't allowed my fear to overcome me," she explained as she began to pace in front of the bed, "if I had stayed with you and not ran away, I would have stopped you from going to the dark side."

Hearing her blame herself for his having gone off the deep end moralistically pissed him off. He would have jumped from the bed and confronted her about it, but the mammoth dog snoring in his lap and the fact he was naked kept him still. He contented himself by shooting her a heated look and talking in the same cool tones she did.

"Yes, I've done things to survive. To see my family, survive. We have made it this far because we have done those things."

"Yes." She nodded. "And you wouldn't have had to do any of those things had I been there to show you there were ways that didn't involve murdering people asleep in their beds."

"You don't know that."

"I don't?" She sniffed as she turned to pace towards the dresser. "I have no human lives on my hands and lead a group three times the size of yours. My people do not kill the living. We help them." She sent a look over one shoulder. "Even if they don't always deserve it."

"Yes, but..."

"Rick, we both know I would have told you how wrong attacking that depot was, that there was another way to go about acquiring the supplies we needed and that we could have worked out a trade agreement with Hilltop that didn't involve us becoming murderers."

Truth, Rick decided as he swallowed the huge helping of crow she shoved in his mouth, tasted foul.

"Morgan tried to say a lot of those things," he admitted, grimacing. "I didn't listen to him."

And I should have, he added silently. Glenn and Abraham would be alive if he had. Daryl would be home. And we wouldn't be under the thumb of a ball bat wielding asshole.

"He didn't say those things well enough then." Raya folded her arms across her chest. "Because I wouldn't have tried." She sent him a look full of feminine superiority. "I would have succeeded."

It wasn't arrogance. It was confidence. In herself and in her abilities. After seeing how she handled herself in that fight at the farmhouse, he had no doubt she couldn't do exactly as promised.

"You'd have knocked me on my ass if I refused to listen."

"Well..." Her shoulders lifted into a faint shrug. "If you decided on being your usual stubborn self then, yes, I'd have knocked your ass unconscious." Her lips trembled. "And I'd have tossed it in some deep, dark cellar until you were ready to discuss things reasonably and rationally."

"You mean until I agreed to see things your way."

"Considering how I am always right..."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course, you are."

"See?" She teased. "Was that so hard to admit?"

His lips crooked upwards as the tension in his belly eased.

"You like feedin' me humble pie, don't you?"

She harrumphed. "You have earned every bit of that pie."

"Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah, I have." He patted the bed. "Will you finally tell me why you're here? I know it can't be to break my balls."

"No," she agreed as she again took a seat beside him. "No, I didn't come here just for that. Though I gotta admit..." There was a speckle of humor in her voice, on her face. "It feels good to bust your balls."

"Could you go and break Negan's instead?"

"I do." She smiled as Krypto started to snore. "It's why he likes me."

"Because you bust his balls?"

"That, and because I don't need him to protect me from the monsters in the dark." She reached out and set her hand on his. "I'm what terrorizes those monsters." Her fingers trembled against his. "Well, most of them anyway."

Most of her temper had drained away. Fatigue was breaking through to haunt her face. The large bruise darkening her jaw stood out like a huge black blotch against the pallor of her skin. Rick saw other bruises forming on the exposed skin of her right shoulder. Anger simmered in his belly at seeing her flesh marred by such ugliness. It quickly turned to guilt as a voice inside him told he was to blame for her injuries. He went to apologize but blurted out the question that had plagued him since he woke up to find her and her kids gone, instead.

"Why did you leave me in that farmhouse?"

"Rick..."

"Just tell me why."

She sighed, looked down, muttered, "Because."

"Because, why?"

"Because..." A pensive frown darkened her brow. "Because I was afraid that if someone like Bane could end up discovering my location that there were others, far, far worse than him, who also could find me."

"So? We woulda handled them just like we handled them assholes Luthor sent."

"Luthor's men," she said darkly. "Men like Slade or even Negan? As terrible as they are, as violent, they are nothing compared to who I feared finding us."

Anxiety and a healthy dose of dread curdled in his belly at her tone. Something told him he didn't want to know who she thought was worse than Negan. Nobody was worse than Negan in his opinion. Not even Gareth and his group of cannibals measured up to Negan. However, he couldn't contain the small kernel of curiosity tumbling around inside him.

"Who?"

The things that burst into life on her face chilled Rick to the core of his being. It went beyond anger and hatred. And when she spoke, the tone she used was the one she used when she shifted to her other side.

"The Joker."

Rick frowned. "The Joker? But isn't he..."

"A comic book character?"

He grimaced. "Yeah, still getting accustomed to the idea that superheroes are real."

Her face softened. "Superheroes have always existed." Her fingers curled around his. "Men like you, my uncle, those who served in our armed forces, firefighters... you were the real superheroes. You put your lives on the line every time you left your houses."

"I didn't have to worry about bad guys with names like the Joker."

"No, you just had to worry about everyday assholes with guns."

He sent a wry look at the small scar that remained from the asshole who shot him and put him in a coma.

"Don't have to remind me about that."

"The wound healed nicely from the looks of it."

"Only because of you and that goop you smeared on it."

"That goop kept you from developing an infection."

"No," he said. "That was because of you and your badgering."

Raya harrumphed. "I did not badger you."

His lips kicked up at the corners.

"You bullied and badger me about it the entire time we were together."

She rolled her eyes. "Only because someone had too."

"And that someone just had to be you."

"Again," she teased. "Since I am always right..."

"Of course, you are."

"See?" Her dimples winked. "Getting easier the more that you say it."

Rick snorted a laugh. "You're just enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Always a tingle when men agree with me."

Her guard is down, he realized. Now is a good time to try to get some answers from her. It was a tactic he learned while they traveled together. He just had to phrase his questions innocuously enough to not push those barriers back up.

"How does Negan put up with you?"

She made a face. "He usually pats me on my ass and then goes does whatever he wants just to prove he was right and I was wrong." She sent him a long look from beneath lowered lashes. "Dirty move, Sheriff."

"What?"

"Slipping a question in there about Negan." She wagged a finger at him. "Tsk Tsk."

"You won't answer me otherwise."

Her face sobered.

"Maybe because you're not ready to hear the answers I'd give."

"Maybe I already know."

"Then why ask?" She tried to slide her fingers from his, but he tightened his hold. "Let me go."

"Just tell me why."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"It's complicated..."

"Of all the men out there that you could choose, why him?" The look he gave her was imploring. "Just answer me that. Why him for chrissakes."

She was silent as she deliberated the best way to answer his question. Rick waited, knowing she'd either answer him or tell him to mind his business. Finally, she lifted eyes haunted by thousands of memories to his.

"Rick, I want you to think of the most unforgivable thing that this world could ask us to do as parents."

Fear grabbed Rick by the throat as those words washed over him. There was only one thing that this world could demand of them as parents that'd be unforgivable. Oh God... not them, he thought as his breath congealed in his lungs. Please, not them...

"Rose?" He could barely speak around the lump in his throat. "Christopher?"

"They're fine," she assured him. "They're with their uncles."

Hearing that brought Rick only moderate relief.

"Then who?"

"A little girl named Yasmine." Grief and a plethora of other things he couldn't define darkened the depths of her eyes. "A darling little angel with big green eyes, bouncing curls, and a smile that would break your heart."

"I don't understand..." he said slowly. "What does this little girl have to do with why you picked a monster like him?"

"Because it has everything to do with why I picked him." She slid her hand from his and stood. "The man you call a monster is the one who put her down."

Rick was barely able to get out a, "What?" the shock was so thick in his throat. "Why?"

"A virus swept through the Sanctuary, infecting over a dozen people." Her hands fidgeted at her sides. The only outward sign of her anxious state. "Yasmine and her mother, Tami were two of those who got sick."

"And they turned," he guessed. "Right?"

"Yes." She started to pace beside the bed in small, tight circles. "And he was the one who put her down. Why?" She turned to look at him. "So, I wouldn't have to do it."

Rick found himself stunned into silence. As much as he hated Negan, as much as he'd like to take that bat of his and turn it on him, he couldn't help but empathize with the man for what he'd done. The mere thought of losing Carl or Judith was unbearable. I can't imagine being placed in a situation where I must put them down.

He didn't think he could do it. Not without losing what little sanity he had left. Is that what made him the way he is? He found himself wondering. Seeing so many children dying from something that we cannot stop? He was about to ask her when she again spoke.

"I don't expect you to understand my feelings for him. No more than I expect you to accept that I choose to be with him. Sometimes, I don't understand my feelings for him. But," she said with a sigh, "it is what it is and I'm not sorry."

A/N: Hello, all! Hope the week has been good to you!