Cat and Mouse

Jamie felt restless in the car as she circled the area with Hershel in the passenger seat beside her, both keeping out a careful eye for signs of movement. So far, they were the only things out there. They'd already dropped Rick off near the building and Daryl had taken his bike, so they were left to circle the perimeter of the old mill. Whenever she was told to observe something, she was always tense while doing so—knowing that to expect if she found something only made it that much worse.

Letting out a long sigh, Jamie glanced to Hershel at her side. He took his head silently. Nodding to herself, Jamie turned the wheel sharply and made her way back to the road that led to the front of the abandoned mill. She never stopped her attention from spanning out, checking for any sign of someone else approaching the place, but Hershel signalled her to slow when he spotted Daryl making his way out from around the building.

Rolling down the window as she pulled up beside him, she could see the aggravation in his stance already. Some might say that he was just on edge, but Jamie could see that he was irritated with something.

"He's already in there," Daryl explained, speaking of the Governor. "Just sat down with Rick."

"Fucker," Jamie hissed out, glancing over to the open doorway that led into the mill. Once, she may have felt abashed to say such a thing in front of Hershel, but she was fairly certain he shared the same sentiment. "There aren't any signs of others around?"

"Not that I could see," he answered with a shake of his head, looking around them one more time for good measure. The only sound that came through the area was the wind through the trees or humming along the metal structure.

"We didn't see any other cars," Hershel replied from the passenger seat, speaking over Jamie. He could see the tense posture that Jamie had since dropping Rick off was mirrored in Daryl, neither of the two friends about to let Rick down. They were meant to guard the area in case of an ambush or attack, so they were going to do just that. Hershel was no fool, he knew that something was going on between the three of them—settled or not—but he also knew not to pry into the delicate lives they already shared.

"It don't feel right," Daryl commented in a low tone, looking from Jamie to Hershel. Jamie's face had been set in a cold stare all day, something that was expected, but Hershel was on edge as well and that was what concerned most of them. As the most peaceful one of the group, it was almost unsettling to see Hershel packing a gun alongside his crutch. "Keep it runnin'," he told his wife, his eyes flicking down to the engine of the car. She nodded her head silently, one hand remaining on the gear shift with the other draped over the wheel, tendons too taught to be relaxed.

Since he was outside of the car, Daryl was the first one to hear the crunch of tires on gravel, the sound approaching the mill. Tapping to hood as he raised his crossbow, Jamie and Hershel each grabbed at their handguns as they looked in the direction that Daryl had picked up the sound. Across the road from the mill, in the storage yard with all of the equipment, a rusted old truck came weaving through at a rather obnoxious speed.

Jamie glared through the windshield, her foot already on the gas with her hand still lingering on the gearshift, the older now wrapped around the handgun in her lap. The tires screeched horrendously as the truck was pulling to a stop, causing her to scowl more from the sound. She'd always hated when someone's breaks made that noise.

"Come on," Hershel prompted when the men in the truck made no move to attack. The driver was leaning against his open window, in plain view of Daryl's arrow. They clearly didn't mean any immediate harm. Shifting to gear into park before she cut the engine, Jamie was first out of the car as Hershel took the time to get his crutches and gun. Daryl was still standing in front of the car with his crossbow raised on the newcomers.

She watched calmly as each person piled from the truck, including Andrea.

"What the hell, why's your boy already in there?" Daryl asked first, breaking the silence between the two groups.

"He's here?" Andrea asked with honest confusion, glancing from Daryl to the driver of the truck, who didn't seem to have a care in the world as he grinned back at her.

"Not quite as in-the-loop as you seem to believe, huh, Andrea?" Jamie asked as she leaned her hip against the wheel well of the car, her gun in hand and resting on the hood. Andrea met her eyes for a moment, both women staring the other down with that familiar chill. Jamie remembered very vividly the promise that she had made to Andrea after they'd reconciled the first time.

She'd kill her if she dared harm Daryl again.

Andrea didn't grace her with a reply but instead made her way toward the entrance to the mill, leaving the rest of them behind. Turning away from Andrea, Jamie focused her glare on the others that she had arrived with, some wanna-be military man and a rather dorky looking fellow that was wearing Harry Potter glasses. She wasn't surprised that the Governor had someone like that working with him—all brains and no brawn. He was probably only with the Governor because he'd be dead without him.

Heaving a rather dramatic sigh, she moved to the hood of the car and hopped up to rest her feet on the grill. It was warm underneath her, not needed on the rather warm day, but she said nothing in complaint as Daryl stepped beside her protectively. He hadn't stopped staring the other man down since he'd gotten out of the truck.

"Maybe I should go inside?" Hershel finally proposed after a couple of minutes, Andrea having yet to re-emerge.

"The Governor thought it best if he and Rick spoke privately," the man with the glasses said before Hershel could act on his words. Jamie raised an eyebrow at him as she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, Daryl making an obnoxious scoffing sound from her left. Privately? What, was Andrea a voyeur now?

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, rather annoyed at the man's interruption. He'd kept himself busy writing in his little diary for the longest time, and the moment that someone speaks he finally decides to add in his two cents. There was nothing about this man that made him appear a threat, hiding behind the other man as he used to hood of the truck as a surface to write.

"Milton Mamet," he introduced.

"Great, he brought his butler." Daryl's comment even brought the other man to laugh from across the way, even as Milton continued to scrawl in his notebook. Daryl was leaning against Jamie's side, still holding his crossbow in preparation for anything. She turned to give him a look, wanting to warn him against unnecessary insults, but knew that there was nothing much she could do once Daryl decided to be an ass.

However, Milton didn't miss a beat. "I'm his advisor."

"What kind of advice?"

"Planning. Biters. Uh, you know, I'm sorry. I don't feel like I need to explain myself to the henchman." Jamie's eyes snapped to where the man was leaning against the truck, casual as ever, and raised an eyebrow at the balls that he apparently actually had. He must have a lot of faith in either the man beside him or the Governor in the mill because Daryl straightened immediately, his shoulder brushing Jamie's side as he made himself appear bigger at the insult.

"You better watch your mouth, sunshine."

Jamie reached for Daryl, but he was already far enough away from her that her fingertips only brushed the back of his vest. The eyes of the Hispanic flicked between the two of them before he returned his soured look to Daryl. "Look, if you and I are going to be out here pointing guns at each other all day do me a favor; shut your mouth.

Daryl, already with enough incentive, marched toward the Governor's man with an aggressive gait. She didn't even bother trying to stop him, mostly because secretly she really wanted him to punch one or both of them. She didn't like the situation they were in at all, left to sit out with their enemy while Rick spoke with the Governor—more than likely to leave with nothing resolved.

Hershel, on the other hand, had a very different view on the present matter. "We don't need this. If all goes south in there, we'll be at each other's throats soon enough." The fatherly tone that he used seemed to dispel the tenseness of the situation, even though the men held each other in a stare down for a moment more.

Reluctantly, Daryl turned his back on the other man to return to where Jamie and Hershel hadn't moved. They may not have acted as outright as Daryl, but they were just as tense and on edge as him. When Daryl resumed his place against Jamie's side, she leaned down until her lips were brushing the shell of his ear sensually. "I like the henchman routine," she whispered hotly against the sensitive skin. "Rather erotic."

Her tone was too low for the others to hear, but Daryl could see the Hispanic frown as Milton watched them with calculating eyes. Behind his glasses, he glanced between the two of them before he looked over the illusion of Jamie's relaxed stance. Her gun was still in her hand, her feet on the grill of the truck in preparation to spring off at any given moment and her body-weight was shifted forward for better momentum. Daryl had placed himself slightly in front of her, showing the protectiveness that would get a challenger killed.

Rick may have been the leader of the group, but these were the alphas.

While Daryl focused on all things outside, his senses acute on the opposing men, Jamie was listening. She was listening carefully for anything from within the mill, immediately catching the tone of Rick's voice the moment it rose. It wasn't one of distress, but of frustration or anger. She couldn't make out what he was saying, but knowing that he was getting riled made her upset, made her eyes narrow at nothing while her head inclined slightly toward the mill.

Daryl knew what she was doing, keeping silent beside her. Hershel was simply waiting as patiently as he could, but he, too, watched the other two men that had been introduced to their little band of merry men.

Short minutes after Rick had snapped, Andrea emerged from the front doors with a put-out look on her face. All eyes went to her the moment she emerged, the blonde staring back at them all for a moment. Then, turning back to the mill, she grabbed the handle of the large door and pulled. Sealing Rick and the Governor inside.

Jamie let out a long breath, sounding a mixture of tired and frustrated, before she lifted a hand to Daryl's hair, stroking her fingers through the strands once before she hopped off the hood of the car. She couldn't sit still any longer, it was going to drive her mad. And to be so close to the mill, to helping Rick and yet closed off from him, made her feel cornered. Daryl understood the feeling, watching as she moved around the car, patting Hershel on the arm as she passed him.

Milton, seeing the actions from the woman, stepped away from the hood of the car with his small notebook still in hand. Daryl moved to intercept where Milton was walking, trying to approach Jamie, and halted the man in his steps. Even a fool could see Daryl's aggression when it came to people approaching Jamie, or even so much as looking at her. "There's no reason not to use this time we have together, explore the issues ourselves," the man said in an attempt at resolution, hoping to reveal that he meant no harm for Daryl or his wife.

"The boss said to sit tight and shut up," the Hispanic said from his seat at their truck.

"Don't you mean the Governor?" Daryl scoffed. Jamie barely glanced back at them over her shoulder, continuing her trek toward the side of the building to take a long look at the surrounding area. The last thing that they needed was for something to sneak up on them when they were having their own pissing contest in front of the mill.

The trees were still and silent, only the wind rattling the leaves creating any sound. The odd bird call broke the otherwise silent area, but Jamie couldn't bring herself to enjoy the atmosphere as she once would have.

"It's a good thing they're sitting down, especially after what happened. They're gunna work it out—nobody wants another battle."

"How exactly could you call that a battle?" Daryl countered, leaning back against the hood of the car where Jamie had once been sitting. He fought the urge to look back for her, knowing that she could take care of herself but still feeling the need to have the assurance of seeing her. He didn't need to go and give these two men anymore ammo than they probably already had, though.

"I would call it a battle, and I did. I recorded it," he clarified, holding up the small notebook that he had been writing in.

Listening to their conversation, Jamie felt her blood boil at the prospect of that man 'recording' the history of the apocalypse. The history of their group and how they attacked them. She tried to calm down, taking a deep breath and willing her arms to relax, her hands to unclench, but there was nothing that worked.

It was one of those moments when someone was 'blinded by rage' or 'seeing red'. They may not have been completely literal terms, but they were very apt descriptions to how a person felt in that kind of situation. Like one would rip another person's head from their shoulders with their force of will alone.

She saw it all in her mind again, from the shower of bullets that barely missed her and Hershel, to the mad scramble everyone was making to close the gates, to stop the walkers from getting any more of their land than they already had.

She wanted to break something.

"On such-and-such day, on such-and-such year," Jamie started, speaking loud enough that it intercepted whatever was being said in the group a couple of yards from her, "The Governor of the survivor town, Woodbury, shoots fellow survivor Axel, of the prison group, through the head with a sniper rifle." Eyes turned to her as Jamie began walking back to them, her face blank. Milton swallowed thickly at the cold look in her eyes. Once, he'd have described her eyes as looking dead, lifeless. Now, he would say they were burning with life, and with raw hate and malice.

He had seen dead eyes; these were not dead eyes.

Daryl felt his stomach tighten, almost like he was in anticipation, as she approached. He wasn't sure whether the feeling was due to the look in her eyes, or the words from her lips.

Because he hadn't been there.

"This then caused fellow survivor Carol to hide behind the dead body as the Governor's men began to shoot at Axel's body in the hopes of killing her as well. In the field, a man with one leg was lying in the grass in hopes of not getting shot himself. And then, the Governor ordered a truck full of walkers to drive through the front gate, destroying it, and flooding the yard of the prison, with two people trapped under gunfire, with walkers."

Stopping a couple of feet from Milton, he trembled faintly at the look she was giving him. At the story she was telling him.

"This prison was home to five men, three women, a teenage girl, a young boy, and a baby. One man died, others were injured. And all they were doing was living; finding solace in a prison of all places, to feel safe at night. But then the Governor took three of their people, sexually assaulted one, brutally beat another and threatened the third with the death of her family. When the prison group tried to rescue the three, the Governor pitted one of the men against his brother in a fight to the death, lest his wife be sacrificed instead. This night cost the life of Axel's friend, Oscar. A kind man just trying to live in a world gone to shit." Milton was pale under Jamie's harsh gaze and cold words.

No one dared to interrupt, to stop her verbal assault.

"Oh, how about a quote for the memorable day?" she asked with mock enthusiasm. "On such-and-such day, on such-and-such year, the Governor sat across from a prison group survivor in a locked room, and said "I'm going to go down to that prison, and I'm gunna kill every single one of your precious friends. I know where they are now; and I'll find everyone precious to you and have you watch as they die." Good enough?" Jamie snapped at him, any fake kindness gone.

Her hand snatched the small notebook from Milton's shaking fingers, slamming it into his chest with more force than was necessary.

"Write that for your next history lesson," she growled down at him before pushing on his chest to make him stumble back. Turning to leave the small cluster of people again, Jamie's eyes fell on Andrea's hunched form, the blonde looking sick to her stomach as she lingered near the door of the mill.

The cold air around the group was interrupted by the rasp of a walker nearby, followed by the metallic clang of a chain-link fence that it had run into. Everyone with a weapon turned in the direction of the sound, searching for the threat. Jamie pulled the hunting knife free from her boot, having lost her sheath when Merle had hauled her and the others to Woodbury.

She wanted that damn thing back and it was going to be the first thing she went for when the Governor was eventually killed.

Daryl took the lead of their small party with his crossbow raised, the Hispanic behind him with a gun and aluminum baseball bat. Jamie didn't rush forward as quickly, Andrea darting past her with her small switchblade opened up. It almost made the hazel eyed blonde smirk in something akin the satisfaction, realizing that Andrea was left with a pathetic little knife in comparison to the weapons of everyone else.

Travelling with Michonne, she must have felt quite weak in comparison.

Leaning against one of the metal containers of the mill, Jamie watched in morbid amusement as Daryl lowered his crossbow and invited the Hispanic to take the first walker, even making a sweeping gesture with one arm that was far too extravagant and exaggerated to be serious. When the other man scoffed and did the same for Daryl, Andrea was the one to get fed up and charge at the nearest walker with her knife.

That got the ball rolling, apparently.

Sticking back, Jamie watched the walkers fall one by one as the men each took a turn showing their preferred attacks on the walkers. Andrea eventually made her way over to Jamie, standing near her as the two boys continued with removing the threat of the walkers.

"Do you have to do a battle cry every time to take out a walker?" Jamie asked in a tone of boredom, directing the remark to Andrea even though she never once stopped watching Daryl. She had a moment of satisfaction when he took the final kill, throwing his knife with expert precision.

"What?"

Jamie glanced over to Andrea at her annoyed outburst, seeing that she was staring at her with a raised eyebrow. Huffing a laugh, Jamie mock charged at Andrea after pushing away from the container, knife at eye level, and mimicked Andrea's earlier yell as she had been gouging her knife into the walker's eye. Andrea actually looked scared that Jamie was going to stab her in the face with her knife, but after Jamie had sufficiently demonstrated her point, she just pushed Andrea away.

"You've gotten pathetic, Andrea," she accused in a low tone, staring down at the other blonde. "And cocky, and self-righteous."

Andrea's jaw dropped open in shock and outrage. She looked like she wanted to charge at Jamie, push her or hit her for her words. "Who the hell do you think you are? I'm pathetic? I don't hide behind my boyfriend and expect him to come and save me!"

"I don't hide behind Daryl, I stand right beside him," Jamie countered. "And at least my husband isn't a murdering psychopath that collected the heads of dead people, teeth still snapping away-"

Andrea's face darkened further at the tender subject. "You don't know what you're talking about," she interrupted, trying to step threateningly toward Jamie, to get into her face and appear tough, but being shorter took away the dramatic effect and only made Jamie sneer down at Andrea in satisfaction, not having budged an inch.

"See? Cocky," she pointed out, shoving Andrea's chest with enough force that she nearly tripped backward. "With nothing to back it up." Jamie had gotten weak before, sick and frail from not eating, not caring for herself, but she had been getting better. Stronger. Healthier. She'd prove it, even if it was to Andrea of all people.

"I'm trying!" Andrea almost shouted. "I'm trying to settle this, to stop the killing! What have you been doing? Instigating it! What the hell was that back there with Milton?"

"That?" Jamie repeated, motioning with her still drawn knife to the site they had been standing in. "That was a wake-up call, because apparently there's something in the water down at Woodbury. If you really wanted to help, you should have done as Carol said and put that tiny little knife of yours into the Governor's head. The killing will only stop when the murderer is dead." Bending to tuck her knife back into her boot, Jamie was careful not to cut herself or her clothing. "Trying to organize this little peace-treaty was a waste of time."

"Rick wants all of this to end, why don't you?" Andrea snapped, arms crossing over her chest.

"I do want it to end. But, like I just said, this is not how that'll be done." Taking a moment to just watch Andrea, Jamie soon shook her head. It reminded Andrea of her mother, disappointed in her when she'd done something wrong or bad. It reminded her of Dale. "When are you going to learn that you can't take charge of things, Andrea? People die when you try."

The other blonde's teeth clenched in fury. "I never killed anyone!" she hissed in outrage, face crinkled up in her anger and making her ugly. "Is this back to Daryl? When are you going to let that go? I didn't mean to shoot him!"

"But you still did!" Jamie actually shouted, the boom of her voice causing Andrea to visibly flinch back, away from her outraged counterpart. Resuming with a lower voice, Jamie glared at Andrea with unveiled hate. "You shouldn't have to defend yourself about almost killing someone, because you never should have taken that chance in the first place. You just had to show off, to try and prove what you couldn't actually back up. Thank God you had horrible aim, or you'd be dead right alongside him. I was not joking about killing you, Andrea."

Grabbing the blonde by her shirt and slamming her back into the metal container, Andrea reacted on instinct as soon as Jamie grabbed at her and pressed her knife to the other woman's throat. Jamie didn't react to the threat against her jugular, didn't even blink. It was unsettling for Andrea, who was accustomed to someone shying away from danger. The people of Woodbury were weak and scared, making Jamie look like a monster in comparison.

"If anything happens to Daryl, Rick or my family and I find out that you had anything to do with it, I will put a bullet through your eye. And I'll make you stare down the barrel before I do it. I'll make sure you know I'm going to kill you."

The knife against Jamie's neck trembled, almost biting into her skin, as Andrea's body quaked. There wasn't a single hesitation in her words, and her eyes spoke of painful honestly.

"Daryl, Rick, aren't you spreading yourself thin?" Andrea mocked, her voice shaking more than her body. "The man's wife just died." Instead of Jamie getting angry and hitting her, as she expected a moment after the words left her lips—she sneered.

Jamie sneered as she stared down at Andrea. "You're grasping at straws, desperate to stop yourself from drowning. But you're sinking, Andrea. Reaching out. Who would take your hand, now? The woman who willingly slept with the man who stripped Maggie bare? The man that killed innocent people?"

The grin that touched Jamie's features chilled Andrea to her bones.

"I'm going to watch you drown, Andrea. With Daryl and Rick at my side."

I'm pretty sure you've all noticed how dark Jamie is becoming, and it may or may not continue to get worse as the show progresses. You have no idea how interesting it is to try and manipulate things, to express the darkness in someone. I love it! Probably more than I should, all things considered. But if you love TWD, you've gotta have a bit of a dark side!