The common room of C Block was warm and filled with the delicious aroma of rosemary and bayleaves, welcoming its occupants to rest and relax after their long day. There was comfortable chatter, everyone gratefully taking a serving of the venison stew that had been slow cooking all afternoon. As usual, Rick stood back and waited until everyone else had been served, his eyes scanning the room and assessing the delicate dynamic between the two groups. So far things were going well at the prison, everyone pitching in without complaint to get the work completed.

They had risen at first light, the entire cell block waking as Daryl dragged his cigarette lighter against the bars of each cell. He made no apologies for his abrupt wake up call, rolling his eyes as Aidan growled at him in displeasure. The rude awakening served it's purpose though, even Carl getting up without being asked twice, although what he said under his breath could be considered excessive. There was a quick breakfast of oatmeal before the whole group got straight to work, Abraham taking charge and coordinating the priorities.

Wanting to make quick work of it, they gunned down the dozen or so Walkers that had wandered into the lower field during the night, the silencers on the rifle effective enough to not attract any more of them. Before disposing of the bodies, they tackled the first task of moving the large wooden spikes from outside the driveway to cover the fallen fences. It took all of them to move each one, their bodies straining under the enormous weight of the logs and spikes while Carl kept watch of the woods. Situating the two spiked logs, they concluded by stringing up some of the barbed wire as a final defence. The barbed wire and spikes were the last line of defence aside from the watch tower, and so far they had proven to be effective. Three Walkers who had managed to get through the wire had impaled themselves already.

The measures were safe enough for now, and the courtyard below was as safe as it was ever going to get until they figured out how to move the tank out of the way. It wasn't necessary though, given that they were only going to be there a few days. Nevertheless they were spending as little time outside as possible, knowing that the flurry of activity would attack hoards of Walkers. Originally the clusters of Walkers had only begun appearing when they built the gazebo and started the gardens, their activities drawing in the initial crowds. From then on it had been a domino effect, the Walkers following each other until they found their prey. Since the prison fell the Walkers had scattered and moved on to other areas of interest, and there was no sign yet that they would start clinging to the fences again.

Then they divided in two, Michonne and Glenn leading a group out of the prison and to the nearby gas station, getting all of the vehicles gassed up. Having vehicles the vehicles ready to go at all times was a reassurance, a practicality that would serve them well if they had to leave the prison at the last minute. The gas tank of the Woodbury bus had always been full for this reason, and at the time they needed it, it served them well. While the others went for gas, Daryl, Tobin and Carl had taken on the task of stripping the unneeded cars for parts, while Carrie and Rick donned gloves and headed for the gardens.

Not for the first time, Rick found himself wishing that Herschel was still by his side, offering his wisdom and knowledge. Though the gardens were in good condition considering their lack of care, Rick wondered how well they would survive transportation to Alexandria, how well they would like being potted up. Herschel on the other hand…he would know exactly what to do. Everything Rick did that day was based on gut instinct and on the gardening book Herschel had found in the prison library so many months ago.

A loud clatter caught Rick's attention, and he squinted up at the courtyard. In the distance he observed Daryl and Carl, who appeared to be in the middle of a heated argument, while Tobin hovered awkwardly to the side. There were some wild hand movements, Carl gesturing to the engine of the car on which they were working. Daryl put his head back, no doubt groaning or swearing in exasperation before raising his voice again. Slapping a wrench into Carl's hand, he pointed into the engine expectantly.

"Are they alright?" Carrie asked in concern, looking from the argument in the courtyard to Rick.

"They're fine," he assured her, unconcerned. Returning his attention to the potato in his hand, he cut off the eye and tossed it into the container of root cuttings that would dry out over night. "They'll work it out."

Barely a minute later, Daryl and Carl were back to their former productive ways, having settled whatever it was they were arguing about. Checking for Walkers, Rick scanned the vulnerable area where the wooden spikes had been deposited, constantly checking that they were secure. He cast his eyes over to Carrie now, quickly looking away before he got caught staring at her. They had been working together in the gardens for two hours now, the comfortable silence broken only by occasional questions and small talk. He had already learnt her company was enjoyable, but he was surprised by how easy it was to work alongside her. Although burying his head in the gardens had always relaxed him and brought a sense of tranquility, the feeling was more pronounced today, and he suspected it was her company.

The moment this thought occurred to him, Rick grimaced and looked back to the dirt, silently scolding himself. The sooner this stupid crush blew over, the better. He shouldn't be feeling this way about someone after only five days. That was how long it had been since he had picked her up off the side of the road. Five measly days. He was being pathetic…embarrassing himself, really. Besides, even the thought that she might return his schoolboy crush was laughable. Aside from the fact that he was widowed with two children, she certainly wasn't pushing forty years old the way he was. He was too old for someone like her to be interested in him, and…How old was she again? She had to be in her early thirties, though he wouldn't put her much older than that.

In the end, her age didn't matter. This woman had spent four months on the road, completely on her own. Hell, she had nearly been raped by the same men who had attacked he, Michonne and Carl. After all that, the likelihood of her being interested in someone was low. She had other things to worry about. With this in mind, Rick once again told himself to stop fixating on her, finding himself constantly distracted.

The others returned from their gas run soon enough, each of their cars successfully gassed up with their spare containers also full. With the return of seven group members, the day's work sped up quickly. When Rick finished in the gardens, he, Daryl and Michonne got to work digging graves, taking care of their own while the others took the Walkers to the other side of the prison and burnt them. Carl stayed inside cleaning the guns and taking stock of the weapons and ammunition, the easy task allowing him to rest and work at his own pace. They paused only to eat at Aaron's insistence. Then they cleared the prison itself, the original residents taking care of C Block, while Abraham and Rosita took care of D. Rick was relived by this division of work, not enjoying the thought of clearing out the cells occupied by those from Woodbury. Though it was necessary, they were essentially looting from their own people.

Turning his attention back to the common room, Rick sat back and observed the group, pleased to see everyone having a good time. After a week on the road they certainly needed a few drinks, their arrival at the prison deserving of a small celebration. Everyone had a drink in hand, even Carrie, for whom Aidan was pouring a generous amount of red wine. She caught Rick's eye from across the room, giving a small smile as she took in the aroma of the wine. Approving, she turned her smile to Aidan now, thanking him. The group ate together with a renewed sense of camaraderie, their success in reaching the prison giving them all a much needed boost. They were certainly more relaxed and comfortable this evening, a hard day's work and good meal helping ease them into the prison.

"Dad, shouldn't you make a toast?" Carl asked from across the table.

Rick hesitated, the entire group turning to him with expectation. Clearing his throat, he picked up his mug of wine and swirled it around a little, trying to think of something to say. He glanced up at the group again, feeling a little tongue tied when he saw Carrie's gaze upon him. "To the Walkers," he said unexpectedly.

"To the Walkers?" Aidan laughed awkwardly, not understanding.

"Yes…to the Walkers," Rick repeated, casting his eyes over his group, focusing on his in particular. "For turning complete strangers into families."

There was a short pause before Daryl grunted his agreement. "Mmm," he nodded, raising his drink. "T' the Walkers."

There was a short laugh from all the group before they gave a resounding chorus of agreement, mugs clinking against one another as everyone met Rick's toast. The alcohol flowed a little more freely than Rick would have liked, but he had no grounds upon which to cramp the celebrations. The prison was as secured as it was going to be, and they were safely ensconced inside C Block…there was no reason they couldn't let their hair down.

"Can I taste it?" Carl asked, gesturing to Rick's mug of wine.

Raising his eyebrows, Rick looked at Carl and considered the request. He knew what Carl's reaction would be. "You still won't like it, but alright" he agreed, passing his mug.

"I might," he argued, no doubt trying to act older than he was. He considered the crimson liquid in his glass, everyone stopping their conversations to watch him. The moment the wine touched his tongue, Carl pulled the wretched face everyone was waiting for. "Nuh!" he cringed, handing the mug back and lunging for his soda instead.

"Nuh?" Rick questioned, everyone else roaring with laughter.

"Nuh."

Sighing, Rick corrected him. "No, is what you meant."

"Why do you care about stupid things?"

"Because I do." Drinking the last of his wine, he put the mug aside to be washed and then fetched a bottle of water instead. Pulling on his jacket, he took a rifle and set of binoculars from their stockpile, preparing to go on first watch. "It's almost nine thirty," he reminded Carl. "You can stay up, but go to bed when Glenn tells you."

"Why is Glenn always in charge of me?" Carl moaned, knowing he didn't quite let him get away with as much as Daryl or Michonne might.

"You know why," Rick told him, ignoring the mischievous wink Michonne gave his son. "Have a good night, everyone. Don't burn the place down," he added, looking at Aidan.

Heading for the door, he was forced to walk past Carrie, she and Glenn sitting on the concrete stairs and talking with ease. She had been afforded the luxury of an actual glass, although it was a beer glass. Passing her by, Rick couldn't help but notice the wine had stained her lips, that they were redder than normal. She and Glenn were talking leisurely…well a more accurate statement was that Glenn was talking at great length and Carrie was listening. Knowing how talkative Glenn could be after a few drinks, concern flickered inside Rick, and he hoped that Glenn didn't say too much about things he shouldn't. As she always seemed to, Carrie turned and caught his eye as he passed, and he just gave her a quick smile before looking away, hoping she hadn't noticed he was staring again.

Retreating to the cold night outside, Rick was relieved to be taking the first watch.

The red wine left Carrie feeling particularly warm and fuzzy that evening, her normal tolerance for alcohol significantly lower these days. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had a drink, though she knew it had been before the outbreak at least. Though alcohol was one of the few supplies that was readily available, she hadn't seen it as something she needed to drown herself in, unlike many others. Alcohol only served to weaken, and she had never felt safe enough to let a drop pass her lips until that night.

With Rick's approval, the group had let their guard down and indulged themselves, breaking out the alcohol Aidan and Nicholas had brought on the run. When a glass was pressed into her hands, Carrie had found she didn't want to refuse the indulgence, particularly when she saw the label on the bottle. She had tasted her fair share of fine wines, and she suspected that Aidan had looted this from a collector. She had been right too. Though she typically preferred white, the red wine was delicious, the taste warming her with immediate effect.

Nevertheless she had paced herself, refusing Aidan's offer of a top up. Already she felt herself relaxed and at ease, though not more so than Glenn. Against all that she thought she knew about Glenn, he too was indulging in the wine, eagerly accepting the top up when offered. Despite their apparent dislike of each other it seemed he, Nicholas and Aidan had somewhat of a drinking history. Curious, she listened as they discussed the time Glenn had brought a bottle of Jim Beam to Aidan's house in Alexandria, the night they had begun discussing the supply run down to Georgia.

As the wine flowed, so too did Glenn's stories. The more he indulged the more he talked, and he seemed particularly interested in talking with Carrie. Just like with Aaron, Glenn's company was particularly easy to enjoy, his demeanour putting her at ease with little effort. It was easy to chat with him, Carrie reassured by the look go obvious love he holds for his wife Maggie. She and Glenn talked for some time, and she heard a variety of names that she had only heard in passing, Glenn becoming more talkative the more he drank.

"It's good to talk, isn't it?" Glenn said enthusiastically, his low voice somehow keeping their conversation relatively private. Keeping his voice low during conversation must be a habit from living on the road. However while his voice was low and subtle, his hand movements were not. Using them for emphasis and meaning, they seemed to wave all over the place as he talked, his mug of wine sloshing about.

"Yes, it is," she just nodded. Glenn was getting to the stage where Carrie couldn't fit a word in edgeways, and she was relegated to just listening and nodding along with his amusing rambles.

"There's so much we don't talk about," he said in awe. "And it's people!"

"People?"

"People we've lost. We should be talking about them, right? Right, Carrie?"

"Right."

"Word of advice," Glenn muttered, leaning over a little. "Do not bring up Beth when Daryl's around. Maggie…she can talk about her now, I think…but Daryl won't. Not yet at least."

"I'll keep that in mind," she nodded, grateful for this advice. As though learning the group's history would help further integrate herself among them, Carrie had been increasingly curious about them and their people, and was part of the reason she tolerated Glenn's drunken conversation. Before this, no one had talked about the lost members of their group, their names only appearing in conversation in passing. Beth was of particular interest to Carrie, knowing that she was Glenn's sister-in-law.

"And Sophia too," Glenn added urgently, looking at her until she nodded. "We don't talk about Sophia."

"Why's that?" she enquired, that name being one she hadn't heard.

"Because…because we just don't. And to me, that's….that's, that's, that's…" Glenn lingered on this repeated word, trailing off as he tried to regain his train of thought. "Crazy! We can't just not talk about her, you know…like she didn't exist. But we do! I mean the lie, no…the denial has been…it's been…what's that word I'm looking for?"

"I have no idea."

Glenn sighed, staring at the entrance to C Block as he tried to articulate what he needed to say. "It's just it's…it's too late now. We don't talk about her, and that's all there is."

Carrie just nodded, taking another sip of her wine. Glenn was still talking, making her wonder if he ever stopped to draw breath.

"…we don't talk about Shane either, but no one's cryin' over him. Okay, maybe Carl is…well I guess it depends on what he knows, on what he figured out. But we don't talk about him, okay?"

"Who? Carl?"

"No," Glenn shook his head emphatically. "Shane," he whispered, his voice taking on a dramatic flair.

"Who's Shane?"

"Exactly," Glenn smiled at her, pointing his finger. "Go with that. Who's Shane?"

Laughing at him, Carrie shook her head wearily. "No seriously. Who's Shane?"

"Carrie-"

"Well if I'm not meant to talk about him, shouldn't I know who I'm not talking about?"

Glenn scrutinised her, his hand momentarily coming up to stroke the fine hair on his upper lip. "Tou…touché?"

"Sure. Touché works."

Looking guilty, Glenn seemed to come to a decision. "Okay, well listen up, because I'll only ever talk about him this one time," he began in a hushed voice. "Rick would kill me if he knew I was telling you this."

"Why's that?" she asked slowly.

"Like I said," Glenn told her, his hand waving about wildly. He whispered now. "We don't talk about Shane. Daryl made a joke once, when he thought Rick couldn't hear. But he heard…it was like he had a sixth sense for that name…" trailing off, Glenn looked over his shoulder as though expecting to see Rick behind him. "Now I'm not sayin' Daryl didn't deserve it, but that was a nasty punch…he didn't chew right for a week."

"Rick punched him over a joke?" Carrie questioned in disbelief. Though she had only known him a few days, Rick didn't seem quick to anger with members of his own group…at least not that she had seen. "He punched Daryl?"

Nodding, Glenn continued. "Trust me, he deserved it…that joke was…it was pretty bad. Even worse than the Governor jokes that came out after h-"

"You're getting off track," Carrie reminded him, too impatient to sit through the merits of poor political jokes. "Who was Shane?"

Glenn grimaced for a moment, looking at her apologetically. He raised his fist to his mouth, hesitated, and then burped lowly. "Rick and Shane were like this," he began, holding up two fingers twisted around one another. "Since they were like, kids or something…worked together too. Both cops."

"He and Rick made it through the outbreak together?"

Glenn snorted at this, laughing loudly enough to attract the attention of everyone else in the common room. Startled by his sudden outburst, Carrie looked at him in surprise, wondering what she had missed. She looked to the others who were in equal confusion, however they only paid attention for a moment. Taking greater interest in the game of Blackjack that had started on one of the tables, the rest of the group were watching as Tobin dealt a hand of cards.

"No," Glenn corrected her, his laughter still trailing off. "It is safe to say they did not make it through the outbreak together. Okay?"

"Okay," she nodded patiently, wondering how long this would take.

"They met up after…You know Rick was in a coma, right?"

"Seriously?"

"Shot in the line of duty," Glenn declared, patting the front of his chest. "That's another story…as for Shane…you know how it is."

"Sure. Let's say I do."

"There's a line, Carrie!" Glenn said impatiently. "An - and between friends especially, there's a line! The line was there, it was drawn in the sand…and Shane just would not stay on his side of it."

"Of the line?"

"That's right…and besides, the man did not know when to shut up! He just kept talking, and yelling, and…problem was he was right. He was right, but he just didn't know how to deliver the message! You know? And he just kept pushing Rick's buttons. If there was a button to be pushed, Shane was there, pushing at it. Button…push…button…push. And he just kept tryin' to go over that line, and it was all Rick could do to keep him at bay, you know, and…"

Letting Glenn keep talking, Carrie began to second guess the importance of her knowing this. She was definitely getting the feeling like she was hearing things that were distinctly not her business. Life both before and after the outbreak had taught her that sticking her nose where it didn't belong would only end up causing trouble. No one had invited her to the information…she had wheedled it out of Glenn, taking advantage of his less than stellar judgement.

"…as for how he died…we don't talk about that either," Glenn continued, oblivious to the way her attention had wavered. "It won't get you a punch in the face, but it will earn you a look. You know…the look."

Taking a deep breath, Carrie forced herself to put a stop to the conversation, though a small part of her wanted to hear all the details she wasn't supposed to. "Glenn," she said tentatively. "I get the feeling you're really, really not meant to tell me this…do you want to talk about something else?"

Much like a cartoon character, the expression on Glenn's face declined so quickly Carrie struggled to keep a straight face. His expression of determined loquaciousness faded to one of significant guilt, and for a moment he bowed his head like a dog who'd had his nose smacked with a newspaper. He indulged himself with a drink of his liquor, draining the mug. He gave a long groan, putting his mug down with a heavy thud.

"Thank you…Oh, Rick would totally lose his shit if he knew what we were talking about. Especially with Carl around…"

"What's it got to do with Carl?" she asked against her better judgement.

"Well, not Carl directly…but he doesn't know," Glenn whispered importantly, not realising she didn't know either. "At least, Rick doesn't think he knows."

"Knows what?"

"That's why we don't talk about Shane," Glenn continued, not hearing the question. "We don't Carl to figure it out."

"Right," she nodded, squashing her insatiable curiosity. Don't ask, she told herself. Don't ask.

"I'm doing it again," Glenn groaned. Putting his face into his hands, he sighed loudly. "God. Last time I drank, I staggered home eight hours later and told Rick that Aidan and I were going to Georgia."

"Woah," she laughed. "Nice one."

"Yeah, good times…I think I puked on him."

Slightly concerned, Carrie shifted away from him a little, openly laughing at him while she pictured the scene. "So, there's a lot you don't talk about then," she started, trying to steer the conversation away from the man named Shane.

"Yeah. We don't talk about that either," he laughed. "The fact that there's stuff we don't talk about…it's not healthy, keepin' things bottled up."

"Well," Carrie began slowly, thinking about the ghosts from her own past, the people she was certain she could never talk about. "Sometimes it's better not to."

Glenn peered at her now, appearing to scrutinise her. "You're channeling Rick," he stated. "Throw in some paranoia and a knack for Walker killing, and you'll fit right in."

"Aww, I was hoping I fit in already," she laughed, nudging him.

"You do!" he hastened to correct himself. "You've eaten half-cooked possum, you're one of us. You're…ohhh," he groaned, trailing off yet again.

"What?"

His groan only became more wounded, Glenn burying his face in his hands again. "I'm meant to be supervising Carl…shit."

"I think he's okay," she assured him, looking over at the teen. Standing with the support of his crutches, he was looking over Daryl's shoulder, listening to his explanation of the cards. "He's only learning to gamble."

"I know what Rick's going to say…he'll say, Dammit Glenn! I gave you one job! At least it's not like that time with Judith."

"Judith?"

Throwing his hands in the air, Glenn appeared to give up. "So I threw a newborn's pacifier away…sue me."

"Oh, you didn't!"

"I did…she had to suck on Rick's finger until we found it and sterilised it again. She was not happy."

Laughing at his expense, she patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. She looked at the clock on the wall, noting that it was getting late. Wondering how much longer the celebrations would continue, she thought about their plans for tomorrow. The group would be departing early in the morning for King County, the place where Rick and Carl had lived prior to the outbreak. They were hoping to find a friend of Rick's who was still alive, a man named Morgan.

"Carrie, I think I should call it a night," Glenn decided, his features pinched into a frown. "Or at least switch to water until Carl goes to bed."

"That's probably a good idea," she agreed, patting him on the shoulder. "Early start tomorrow. It was nice talking to you, Glenn."

"Yeah," he nodded, though he sounded a little surprised. "It was…"

"Go. Water," she reminded him, seeing his mind trail off and get distracted again.

"Right…water," he said loudly, hauling himself to his feet.

He staggered for a moment, getting his bearings before heading off to their large canteen. Thoroughly amused, Carrie watched him go, worried that he might keel over halfway there. Ensuring he made it to the canteen, she sipped at the rest of her wine while Glenn switched to water, sucking down two glasses in quick succession. He grimaced, burped, and then joined the others at the table, elbowing Daryl aside to make room.

Sitting quietly on the concrete steps, Carrie sought solace in the bottom of her glass, her mind reeling with everything she had learnt. Just like herself, and like the groups she had been with before, Rick and the others had history. And just like her, there were certain things that were not talked about, a mutual agreement that sought to benefit those worst affected. But as she often did, she questioned the effectiveness of the strategy, wondering how much damage they did to themselves by not talking about things. She hadn't been like that before the outbreak…she'd spent many a night on the phone with her mother or friends, bitching about being passed for a promotion or crying over the heartbreak of her divorce. But these days, it felt like there was no one capable of listening, everyone else already carrying too much of their own baggage.

Looking around at the others, Carrie was a little relieved that Rick wasn't there, that he was outside on watch. She pictured him at the top of the guard tower, shrouded in darkness and the cold wind as he protected them all. The attraction she was feeling for him directly conflicted with her rationale, particularly given what she had just learnt. Everything was a contradiction…one moment Glenn recounted the time Rick had punched Daryl for a tasteless joke, then moved on to the way he cared for his newborn. It was difficult to keep up with, and the rational part of Carrie's mind told her to stay away.

It didn't matter that she felt attracted to him…Rick could be trouble for her. With what she had been through, she didn't need the trouble of getting close to another man, especially given the way she couldn't quite decide what to make of him. But the rational part of her was slowly succumbing to another part…one that kept remembering the way he looked at her all the time, and the way her own eyes sought him out. When Michonne had hinted that Rick might be nursing a crush for her, she couldn't help but get a little thrill from the thought.

Once she had gotten to know him and mutual trust had been developed, she had taken an immediate liking to him, finding him easier to talk to than some of the others. He had made an effort to put her at ease, to strike up conversation and learn a little more about her. Although she felt safe enough with the others, she felt comfortable with Rick. Five days had passed since he had picked her up from the side of the road, since he had saved her from slow death by starvation. In that time he had done nothing to harm her, nothing that would indicate he wanted to…he raised his voice at her once, that time on the drive towards Silverpine…but he had apologised. Hell, it seemed like he even meant his apology. Her ex-husband had apologised to her for many things, but she had always doubted him. Rick on the other hand…she could tell he meant his apology.

Finishing her wine, Carrie let herself recount every moment she had spent in Rick's company thus far. It wasn't until the day they arrived at the prison that she had looked at him as anything other than the group's leader, the person who had taken her in. Though he was a little older than her, she of course noticed that he was attractive. There was something about his blue eyes that demanded her attention, an intensity about him that made it difficult to look away. She had been taken by surprise the other evening, when she had come across him leaving the bathrooms without a shirt on. Her eyes drank in his appearance, her stomach fluttering as she looked him up and down in the dim light.

"Rick has the hots for you," Michonne teased her, breaking her from her thoughts. Resuming Glenn's former position, Michonne sat down and took a long drink of water, having also decided to call it a night.

Carrie blushed in embarrassment, relieved that the lighting was poor. "So?" she said nonchalantly, wondering if her new friend could read minds. "Doesn't mean I have the hots for him."

It was only a small lie.

"Oh, come on," Michonne grinned, nudging Carrie with her elbow. "Could you be convinced?"

Still thinking of Rick, she indulgently let her imagination run away with itself, imagining his lips upon hers, his hands. Feeling his eyes raking her up and down sent shivers down her spine already…what would feeling his hands on her do? She was being completely indulgent, knowing that she shouldn't be thinking along these lines. But she couldn't help it. God…that would be so nice.

"I…I could be convinced."

Michonne laughed under her breath, satisfied with Carrie's answer. "You know what does a lot of convincing? Grapes."

"Grapes?"

"Fermented grapes."

"Ah," she said in understanding. "Those damn fermented grapes."

Michonne continued very slowly. "Maybe you should give them the opportunity to do some convincing."

Carrie looked around at her in surprise, her brow furrowed. Was Michonne saying what she thought she was? "Are you serious?" she enquired.

Michonne just shrugged. "Why not? There's wine left…go and talk to him."

Biting the inside of her cheek, Carrie considered this, thinking it through. Surely she couldn't just…just take a bottle of wine out to Rick and talk…flirt. Could she? Did she even want to? That last question was a lot to consider given her history. Still biting her cheek, Carrie thought about flickers of attraction she had been feeling for the last two days. He was handsome…and she was definitely beginning to enjoy his company. But why go and ruin it by trying to flirt with him? So what if his gaze not exactly innocent, though he tried to hide it. That didn't mean anything….it didn't mean he wanted her to flirt with him.

Did it?

"I dunno, Michonne…he's on watch."

"He'll multi-task," she said firmly.

Carrie chuckled under her breath. "But…" she began apprehensively. "I can't just…you know…go out there."

"Why not?"

"Because…what would I even do?"

"Talk to him."

"Talk?" She tested the word in her mouth, unsure of how it felt. "I can talk…I do talking very well."

Michonne laughed loudly, playfully taking Carrie's hand and making her raise her glass to her lips. "Go on then…there's nothing stopping you."

Taking a long gulp of her wine, Carrie tried to summon her bravery, to remember a time when talking to and flirting with men hadn't been a problem for her. But she hesitated, too worried. If this went badly, if it back fired, things would get very awkward very quickly. Aside from the fact that he was the leader of her group, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to do anything about her attraction.

"Michonne, I don't know if it's a good idea," she said, starting to chicken out.

There was a long pause, Michonne scrutinising her carefully. "Glenn was talking about Rick, wasn't he."

She nodded slowly, remembering all the reasons she should stay away from Rick. "Yeah."

"Look, Carrie," Michonne sighed, adjusting her headband. "I've heard things about Rick as well, good and bad. I've seen things too. That's not the whole of him."

"No, I know that."

"Good. Whatever Glenn told you, remember he's a sloppy drunk. Besides…think about yourself, the things you must have done…are they the whole of you?"

"No," she said emphatically, not hesitating for even a moment. She was horribly aware of the things she had done, and she questioned herself constantly. The one thing she was certain of, or that she tried to convince herself of, was that the things she did were not indicative of her true self, of who she really was. If she tried so hard to apply that logic to herself and the things she had done, then didn't Rick deserve the same application?

"What did Glenn tell you?" Michonne enquired in concern.

"Nothing really," she assured her. "Just a whole lot about the people I shouldn't talk about."

"Ahh." Michonne rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, I got the list too."

"This guy Shane? He on the list you got?"

Her face darkening, Michonne looked at her emphatically. "Trust me, Carrie…don't bring him up."

"Geez, I won't," she insisted, although she had done just that.

There was an awkward pause now, punctuated by Nicholas' inebriated shout of "Black Jack, bitches!"

As the others began to refute his claim, Michonne tried to change the tone of their conversation, giving Carrie a playful nudge. "I hope Glenn hasn't put you off Rick."

"No, of course not," she replied politely, although he had a little.

"He's a good guy. One of the people who attacked us here in the prison…he let her join us after."

"Oh my God, why?"

"He could see in her that she didn't want to be there that day, that she didn't agree with what was going down. Rick could have easily told her to take a hike, but she's family now."

Carrie nodded, pondering this. It was still difficult to know what to think, to decide which part of her was going to influence this decision.

"Well, what do you think?" Michonne pestered. "Go out there and talk to him."

Giving a nervous laugh, Carrie tried to figure out what to say, to figure out what she was even thinking right now. "I don't know," she moaned in frustration. "I mean, if he's interested, I'm not going to knock him back."

"But?"

"But…me coming on to him? It feels like crossing some sort of line," she confessed quietly, looking to Michonne to gauge her reaction.

Michonne paused, scrutinising Carrie carefully. She dropped her playfulness a little, understanding Carrie's hesitation. "Do you want to me to stop teasing?"

"No," she laughed, not at all bothered by that. "It's just…"

"Just what?"

"He's…he's widowed. His wife is buried here."

Michonne nodded, understanding. "Carrie. Let Rick decide if that's a problem. Go on," she prompted again. "Let the grapes do their convincing."

Still hesitant, Carrie looked back to the group, questioning what she should do. It would take every ounce of bravery she possessed to go out there and talk to Rick, to come on to him so obviously. But what was the worst that could happen? Even if it went terribly wrong, the worst that would happen was embarrassment…surely she could risk embarrassment given the pay off was flirting with a man like Rick.

Her attention was momentarily distracted, Aidan's loud voice echoing around the common room. He was holding a glass of amber liquid out to Carl, loudly encouraging him to have a taste. Carl looked hesitant, lingering as though he wasn't sure how to refuse. Not knowing what to do, he looked to Glenn, who despite his own inebriation, shook his head negatively, refusing permission.

"I won this round!" Aidan declared, gesturing to the table. "You have to do what I say."

"No, thanks," Carl shook his head. "Dad would freak."

Aidan's encouragement only grew, Carl finding refuge as Glenn suggested he go to bed. Watching Aidan's antics, Carrie just rolled her eyes in exasperation, finding the motivation she needed to meet Michonne's challenge.

"Oh, God," she muttered in disdain, far preferring the thought of Rick's company to Aidan's. "Alright, I'm convinced."

"You'll do it?"

"Yeah…what the hell?"

Stifling an uncharacteristic giggle, Michonne led the way to the other side of the common room, showing her where the cardboard box of alcohol was. Trying to be subtle about it, Carrie managed to open a new bottle of wine while Michonne collected two clean mugs. With the others distracted by Tobin dealing out a new hand of cards, Carrie managed to sneak up the concrete stairs and head for the door. Although everyone else was very much occupied by the game, it felt like they were all watching her, judging her for what she was going to do.

"You all set?" Michonne enquired, handing her the mugs. "You need a breath mint? Chap stick?"

"Uhh, no. I think I'm good," she nodded nervously, hastily testing her breath. Glancing back at the group, she was relieved to see they still weren't paying her attention.

"You need a condom?"

"A cond - …Michonne!" Carrie hissed, starting to second guess herself. Would Rick think that's what she was after?…What if that was what he was after?

"I'm just teasing," she laughed. Planting her hands on Carrie's shoulders, Michonne turned very serious. "Carrie…do the man a favour. Plant one on him…make out a little."

Carrie sighed in exasperation. "I - "

Ignoring her, Michonne just opened the door and ushered her outside. "Seriously, Carrie. Kiss him. Consider it a favour to me."

"A favour?"

"The man needs it."

The door closed before she could reply, leaving her standing in the cold dark night alone. A little shocked by the abruptness of Michonne's departure, Carrie stood rooted to the spot, the mugs in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other. Taking advantage of the solitude, she breathed heavily and she collected herself, feeling her body adjusting to the cold.

In that brief moment she was plagued by an array of doubts and fears, and she took a long sip of wine straight from the bottle to quell them. She took a step towards the guard tower and then stopped, standing there awkwardly as she forced herself to take another. Increasingly nervous, she took another sip from the bottle and then shook her head, telling herself she was being stupid. Two years ago she had fearless in the face of uncertainty, confident and bold in situations that made some people puke their guts up. She had conducted business meetings…she had made client pitches and been responsible for business contracts worth millions of dollars.

If she could do all that, then she could sure as hell go and talk to a man.

A/N Next chapter this weekend :-)