Not Ready To Make Nice

"We're not leaving." Rick's tone left no room for argument, but Hershel didn't notice his tone or he simply didn't care. Probably the latter if I knew the old man.

"We can't stay here," he insisted.

The group had been arguing in an endless circle for what felt like days, but was only half an hour and we were still no closer to a consensus. I was leaning against the wall near Maggie trying my best to look casual and not like I was on the verge of collapse. If it wasn't for the wall I was leaning on for support I would have been face down on the floor a long time ago. Hershel offered to take a look at the newest bullet hole in my body when we first got back to the cellblock, but the wound wasn't fatal and could wait until our family feud session concluded. Although, at the rate we were going it was more likely I'd die from blood loss before this ended. I had nothing helpful to add so I kept my mouth shut and my eyes glued to the tips of my boots. Daryl was directly above me on the catwalk and while I had yet to look at him I could feel his eyes on me like a spotlight.

"If Rick says we're not running, we're not running," Glenn stated, hands on his hips.

"No, better to live like rats."

My eyes strayed from the ground to Merle who was locked outside the cellblock in the man cave. The sight of the gunshot wound in his shoulder made me smile. His eyes flicked down to the injury before he growled low in his throat, scowling at me. When I winked at him he shook his head.

My grandmother always said my need for vengeance was my least favorable personality trait. She was a devoutly religious woman so when my response had been "an eye for an eye" she promptly responded with "ends up making the whole world blind". I was by no means familiar with the "good book", but I was pretty sure that wasn't part of the original scripture. My grandmother did Bible remixes better than a DJ at a night club.

While the group was happy Daryl was back, Merle was a different subject. The argument to kick him out of the prison was more heated than the debate to run or fight The Governor. Personally, I'd take the older hillbilly over the younger in a heartbeat. At least he had a sense of humor.

"You got a better idea?" Rick asked him.

He appeared genuinely curious about his perspective. No one had more experience with The Governor than Merle. It would be stupid not to use that to our advantage.

"We should've slide outta here last night. Lived to fight another day." The superiority in his voice was in direct contrast to his circumstances. He was marooned in this death trap same as the rest of us so he should wipe the smirk off his face with the quickness. "We lost that window didn't we?" He was right and everyone knew it though they didn't look happy about it. I pressed my arm against my side, trying to stem the flow of blood as Merle's eyes shifted to me. "Ask Firecracker, she knows."

Rick looked at me and I licked my lips. Nothing ruffled my feathers more than agreeing with Merle Dixon, but the man had a point.

"We can't leave now." I kept my face blank and voice even. "The Governor isn't a military man, but he has men with him that were and they'll expect us to run after today. We can't sneak this many people out unseen in a reasonable amount of time."

"He'll have scouts on every road outta this place by now," Merle confirmed. Rick took a deep inhale, running his hand over the stubble of his beard.

"You agree?" he asked.

"It's what I'd do," I answered.

Truth was if I was on the other side of this conflict it would be nothing to take the prison by nightfall. Our group was too small in number to sufficiently cover the area, we had more blind spots than Stevie Wonder, no heavy weapons and limited ammunition. Bottom line, our hold on this place was an optical illusion. We still held it only because he hadn't strolled in here and taken it.

"We ain't scared of that prick." Daryl's voice made my spine go rigid in an instant, and I bit back a groan as the pain in my side flared.

Merle snorted, "Ya'll should be. That truck through the fence thing...that's just him ringing the doorbell. If he gets his hands on any of ya yur gonna wish ya were dead. He ain't one to trifle with. Ain't that right my Nubian Princess?"

If looks could kill Deadpool would have killed Merle a hundred times over by now. She should shoot him. It did wonders for my morale.

"She did relieve him of an eye," I pointed out. Merle may have a point about The Governor and his men, but our group needed to know he was just a man. He could be hurt. He could be killed. Maybe not without heavy losses on our side, but still.

"Well hot damn, sign me up to re-enlist." I shot him the finger and he winked at me while laughing. I hated this entire family. "We might have some thick walls to hide behind, but he's got the guns and the numbers. And if he takes the high ground in this place, shoot, he could just starve us out if he wanted to."

Rick's eyes slide to mine and I begrudgingly nodded in agreement. We were in a bad spot with limited options. All of which sucked.

"Can we put him in the other cellblock?" Maggie asked. Her anxiety was reaching near epic proportions with Merle so close and I made a mental note to slip her some Clonazepam later.

"Won't change nothin' darlin'."

"Shut up!" Glenn roared, tugging his girlfriend closer to his side.

"Can't tell me what to do Chinaman," Merle chided.

"Merle!" Daryl and I screamed at the same time. My stomach churned with too many emotions I neither had the time nor inclination to deal with as we stared at each other, completely forgetting about his brother. Maggie hurling more accusations broke our trance and I blew out a harsh breath, looking away.

"This is all you! You started this!"

I understood her anger. Her time with The Governor was no picnic. She may not have the physical wounds Glenn and I carried, but what she'd been subjected to was much worse. Physical wounds healed a lot easier than emotional ones.

"What's the difference whose fault it is? What do we do?" Beth's normally reserved voice was harsh as she refocused the group on the big picture. We could always kill Merle later.

And we were off to the races, again.

Hershel advocated passionately to leave, pointing out Axel would still be alive if we had left hours ago when the subject first came up. He wasn't talking directly to me, wasn't even looking at me, but I knew the comment was meant for me. It had been my decision to stay, to try and sneak into Woodbury to kill The Governor. I knew he was likely to attack, but thought we had enough time to launch our own attack first. Axel paid with his life for my miscalculation. I didn't know the man well, would hardly call him a friend, but he was my responsibility so his death fell squarely on my shoulders. I would shoulder that burden, carry it with me for the rest of my life, but I'd made the right call then and now. I choose the option that put the least amount of people at risk and running put everyone's life on the line.

"There isn't always a way out," I said, interrupting Hershel's petition to leave. "Yes, Axel's dead and I'm sorry about that, but it's too late to run." I looked the old man square in the eye. "If we run now we'll never stop. It's not about the prison. It's about standing up to oppression, protecting what's ours. We need to make a stand, against The Governor, what he stands for, what's he's trying to take from us. If we don't do, who's going to?"

Hershel shot to his feet or rather clumsily hauled himself up using his crutches. "So you'd sacrifice us all for this place? The where doesn't matter. Keeping us all alive and together is the important thing."

I shook my head, "And next time?" He dropped his head. "The world is filled with Governor's. Are we going to run from them too?" I looked around the room. "We aren't fighting for concrete and fences. We're fighting for our way of life."

No one spoke because there was nothing left to say. It was time to make a choice. All eyes fell to Rick, waiting to see what he would do, but instead of the calm, collected leader that kept us alive this winter I saw the grieving, unsure widower. He was cracking, the strain of everything pulling him apart faster than he could put it back together. He started towards the exit, but Hershel moved with surprising quickness for someone missing a limb.

"Get back here!" he bellowed. His voice echoed in the cellblock and Rick stopped as he hobbled to him. "You're slipping Rick. We've all seen it. We understand why, but now it not the time." The statement was so absurd I almost laughed. Rick, if you could pick a more convenient time to have a mental breakdown that would be great. Unbelievable. "You once said this wasn't a democracy. Now you have to own up to that. I put my family's life in your hands. So get your head clear and do something."

Damn.

That was harsh. Absolutely, 100% true, but harsh.

"I need..." His voice broke, unable to look the old man in the eye. "I need time to think."

Without another word he left and I rubbed my hands up and down my face. In my opinion there was no decision. If we tried to leave the prison we died, guaranteed, either by The Governor's hand or walkers. We were probably going to die if we stayed, but the odds were better here than on the road. Plus, I would rather die taking a few of those dipshits with me. When we found this place I called it our Alamo. It was shaping up to be a pretty apt description given what was headed our way.

With Rick gone the group slowly dispersed. Glenn and Maggie retreated to their cell, Beth heading for towards Nugget who was screaming her displeasure, Carol continued to loiter in the stairwell, waiting to pounce. She was hoping to corner Daryl and pester him about leaving until he begged her for a swift death. I grinned. That woman could nag better than any human being on the planet. My time at Woodbury would be more pleasant than what she had planned for him.

"Come on, let's get you stitched up. Again." I swear he rolled his eyes at the last part. Did he think I did this on purpose? He didn't wait for a response, but stopped when he realized I wasn't following. "Are you coming?"

I hooked a thumb in Merle's direction. "His is worse."

Hershel examined Merle like he just now realized he was locked in the man cave bleeding.

"He can wait."

I laughed out loud as I pushed off the wall, making my way to Hershel's cell/doctor's office.

"Ain't no way to treat family Firecracker," Merle hollered from behind the bars.

My steps faltered as I looked over my shoulder at him, the warning clear on my face. When he smirked I let my hand drop to my side, hand close to my weapon.

"I will shoot you again," I promised. The crazy bastard actually laughed.

"If violence turns ya on I'll play. Kinky as hell, but I like it. I'm almost disappointed my brother snatched ya up first."

I slapped a hand over my mouth, cheeks puffed out as I tried to swallow down the vomit. Looking into Hershel's cell I asked, "Do you have any anti-nausea meds? I need them."

"Come on now lil' sister! Don't be like that!"

I didn't bother acknowledging his comments because there was nothing to say, nothing good at least. I walked into Hershel's office, Merle's laughter still bouncing off the concrete walls behind me. With any luck everyone, including Daryl, would chalk his behavior up to Merle being a dick. I wasn't sure how long that logic would hold, but I'd take what I could get. Any other option would require a lot more than anti-nausea medication to deal with. Pretending to be Daryl's wife seemed like a good idea at the time, but there was a sizeable downside I never considered, mainly Daryl finding out. It would have been bad if we were still on speaking terms, but now, it would be more fun to floss with barbed wire than broach the subject.

"Let me see it," Hershel said as he sat down on the bottom bunk. I pulled up my tank top, wincing as fabric stuck to my skin due to the dried blood. Hershel sighed, his nimble fingers probing the shallow cut. "You'll need a few stitches. The antibiotics you're already on should keep the infection at bay, but let me know if it isn't feeling better in a few days."

"Lovely," I remarked dryly.

"Do you mind taking the shirt off? The wound is so high it will make this faster."

"Sure."

Gingerly I pulled off the ruined tank top, tossing it into a waste bin that had been hauled in here for such occasions. The thing was already halfway full of bloody clothes, towels and sheets. At the rate we were going through medically supplies we would run out in a few weeks, and with The Governor's whereabouts unknown no one was making any supply runs in the near future. Things just got better and better. Hershel worked swiftly and silently. The stitches he wove back-and-forth through my skin barely registering.

"Sorry we don't have any anesthetic," he apologized as he tied off another stitch.

I crossed my arms against the top bunk, resting my forehead on my arms. "It's fine."

"All done." I glanced down at my side, admiring the four perfect stitches. "Just need to cover it with a bandage and you'll be set. I'd tell you to take it easy, but..."

"If people would stop shooting at me I would take it easy."

"Fair enough."

He taped a piece of gauze over the newly closed gash.

"You'll be good as new in a few days." If you say so old man. "Alex, I know it's none of my business..."

I cut him off, "You're right, it's not." I was too tired and too sore to have this conversation.

"He made a mistake." Understatement of the century. "You know what they say dear, to err is human, to forgive..."

"Is never gonna fucking happen?" I was paraphrasing.

Carol's timely entrance saved me from another lecture on language as she handed me a new tank top.

"Thought you might need this."

"I love you."

Slowly I put the tank top on, the stitches pulling ever so slightly as I extended my arm. Carol leaned against the opposite wall, her body language all wrong. She looked nervous and twitchy which meant she had a secret. Carol would make a terrible spy.

"What is it?" I asked. Her eyes darted around the small cell. I couldn't tell if she was buying time or looking for an escape pod.

Finding neither she took a deep breath and finally confessed, "There's someone waiting outside."

The "someone" didn't need to be named, sort of like Voldemort. Now I was looking for an escape pod. I could maybe squeeze through the bars on the window, and if not I could for sure whip up a bomb using the remnants of Hershel's medical supplies and blast my way out.

"I'll go see to our guest," Hershel said, "Carol, would you mind helping?" She nodded so enthusiastically I was surprised her head didn't twist off.

"Subtle guys. Thank you for that, really, I appreciate it."

Realistically I knew I had to speak to Daryl at some point, but I was shooting for around the 50 or 60 year mark, not the one hour mark. Having friends sucked.

I kept my back to the cell entrance, adjusting my tank top as I used a wet cloth in the sink to wipe away smears of blood from my face, body and hands. Daryl's boots stomped against the concrete purposefully as he entered. The man could be quieter than a church mouse when he wanted to so dragging his feet was a deliberate move on his part. Smart, but if he thought that would stop me from shooting him at some point in this conversation he was delusional.

Discreetly I examined his reflection in the mirror as I scrubbed my face. He was dirty, but that was nothing new. Even when he had access to hygiene supplies the man opted to go "au naturel". His face looked haggard with dark bags under his eyes and a healthy dose of stubble on his face. His clothes while never immaculate looked more tattered than they had a right to after being out on the road for less than a day. His hair was greasy and falling into his eyes. It was the longest I'd ever seen it, hanging over his ears by almost an inch.

All-in-all he looked like absolute shit. He stepped just inside cell, putting his back against the wall as he bit his filthy thumbnail. I rolled my eyes, scrubbing at my hands with more vigor than the task required as I waited. He sought me out and now he wanted to play the quiet game? Dropping the rag I turned, leaning against the sink and crossing my arms over my chest.

"Did you need something?" My tone was neutral, bored, my face carefully blank. He may have broken me, but I would be damned if I let him see it.

"Red..."

"Don't call me that," I ground out, fingernails digging into my arm.

One word. That was all it took for him to pull at the threads that would completely unravel my self-control. My rebuff hurt him and the twisted part of my soul was overjoyed.

"Alex," he amended though it was clear it hurt him to do so. Good. "I wanted...to ah, tell ya...that, well...I'm...sorry."

I shook my head at him, "You still suck at this."

"Yeah."

"Anything else?"

He narrowed his eyes, aggravation peeking through his carefully constructed demeanor. He'd lost his ever loving mind if he thought he was going to waltz in here, stutter through a bullshit apology and things would go back to the way they were.

Not.

Happening.

"Didn't wanna leave ya."

I laughed without humor, "And yet you did."

"Yur hurt. Being on the road with Merle and me would'a killed ya. I was trying to protect ya."

His voice rose with each word as frustration pulsated off his massive frame, but I could care less. I wasn't doing this with him. Not now. Not ever. When 30 seconds elapsed and he did nothing but grunt in annoyance I pushed off the sink, heading for the exit, but paused in the threshold. Our shoulders were inches apart, the heat from his body wrapping around me like a familiar blanket. He looked the same, smelled the same, and my heart begged me to forgive and my hands itched to touch him. All it would take was a half-step to the right and I would be back in his arms. My heart may long for the man I still loved, but my head was running the show and it promptly vetoed the idea.

"I never wanted you to save me," I whispered to him without looking at him, "I wanted you to stand by my side as I saved myself."

Without waiting for a reply I left the cell, spotting Rick immediately as he moved into through the cellblock like a man on a mission. He handed Maggie a set of keys with the instructions to take first watch.

"Fields filled with walkers. I didn't see any snipers out there, but we'll keep Maggie on watch," he told the group.

"I can get up in the guard tower take out half these walkers, give these guys a chance to fix the fence," Daryl offered, his voice robotic and detached.

"We could use some of the cars to put the bus back in place," Deadpool suggested.

"Not enough ammo for that," I said, leaning against stairwell.

"She's right. We can't access the fence without burning through our bullets," Hershel agreed.

Glenn sighed in annoyance, "So we're trapped in here?" He said it like a question, but his tone screamed statement or better yet accusation. "There's barely any food or ammo."

"We can't risk a run with a large group, but one person could get through any checkpoints The Governor has set up." Rick looked at me like I was crazy. So, like normal. "What? It's a viable option and I can clear most of the walkers out on my way. At the very least it will draw them away from the fence long enough for you guys to repair it."

"Hell no!" Daryl exclaimed as I waved him off with a flick of my wrist, waiting for Rick's decision. "We don't need no suicide run. We've been here before we'll be a'right."

"That was when it was just us." In my humble opinion Glenn had every right to hold a grudge against Merle. The man had beaten him and tossed a walker into the room while he was tied to a chair. I didn't think even shooting him could square that. Needless to say, they weren't going to be exchanging BFF bracelets any time soon. "Before there was a snake in the nest."

Daryl rounded on him, his face deadly as he took a step forward. My body coiled with tension, waiting for the inevitable explosion and wondering how far I would have to go to stop it.

"Man, we gonna go through this again? Look, Merle's stayin' here. He's with us now. Get used to it. All y'all."

I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding when he pushed past Glenn, climbing the stairs. Six months ago that "discussion" would have ended in a scuffle complete with weapons being drawn, and would inevitably end via illegal chokehold.

"Seriously Rick, do you think Merle living here is really going to fly?" Glenn snapped.

"I can't kick him out."

"I wouldn't ask you to live with Shane after he tried to kill you!"

"Enough!" I roared, wedging myself between the men. It was a bad day when I was the voice of reason. "We're getting nowhere right now and we have bigger problems on our hands. If we survive the night you guys can decide who gets to kill who, deal?"

"Merle has military experience. He may be erratic, but don't underestimate his loyalty to his brother," Hershel offered, ever the diplomat.

"Military experience? That's your reason to keep him?" Glenn sounded on the verge of losing what was left of his shit. He pointed to me, his eyes ablaze with fury. "No one has more military experience than Alex so I'm calling bullshit!"

Ooh, he was gonna hear about that later. Bullshit was a whooper of a bad language word.

"What would you suggest?" I asked, trying to clam him down.

"We solve two problems at once. Deliver Merle to The Governor, bargaining chip. Give him his traitor, maybe declare a truce."

"Alex?" Rick asked.

"That assumes Merle is important to The Governor." I sent Glenn an apologetic look. "Even if he is we'll never come to terms with a man like him. He can't be trusted."

"She's right," Deadpool said.

Glenn threw his hands up in frustration, swiveling on his heel and stalking off to stew in solitude. I empathized with him, truly I did. I knew what it was like to make nice with your abuser and there was nothing easy about it.

"I'm going to head outside and see what our options are for the fence," I told Rick.

"Alex," he said wearily.

"Relax, I'm just going to stretch my legs. It'll be fine."

Hershel sighed, "I don't suppose mentioning you have four stitches in your side and another eight in your arm will change your mind at all?"

I chuckled, only stopping when he didn't join in.

"Sorry, were you serious?" He narrowed his eyes at me and I swallowed hard, turning my attention to someone who didn't hold sharp objects near my body on a regular basis. "Deadpool, you busy?"

She smirked, following behind me.

"What about snipers?!" Rick shouted.

"You said you didn't see any," I called over my shoulder, "Besides, those guys can't aim for shit."

"They hit you didn't they?"

I kept walking, holding my hand up as I wagged a finger in the air. "Close range. Lucky shot. Doesn't count."

We made our way out to the fence, our faces grim as we assessed the damage. The amount of walkers in the yard had easily doubled since we were last out here. Clearing them out would be a full-time job and then some.

"OK, let's go out that way then circle back." I pointed to the right where the congregation of the dead was the smallest. "If we can jerry rig the fence to keep more from getting in we can start clearing out the yard."

"Jerry rig it with what?" she asked.

"Oh I have all the goodies." In reality I had some wire, rope and a few strands of chain.

"You realize this will never work?"

I shrugged, "It's this or sit inside with the Dixon brothers." I held my hands out, one holding rope, the other chain. "Your call."

"Fence repair it is," she replied without hesitation, taking the rope.

"Damn straight."

An hour later we stumbled into the man cave covered in walker blood, breathing hard and one of us bleeding from a few busted stitches.

"What happened?" Carol asked with concern.

"It's possible there are more walkers in the yard than two people can handle," I panted, hands on my knees.

"Ya don't say," Merle drawled from his spot at the steel picnic table.

"Did you get the gate closed?" Carol's faith in our abilities was sweet. Misplaced, but sweet.

"Uh, no."

We didn't even get close to the gate before the walkers surrounded us. It wasn't the number of walkers, but the stamina required to kill so many at once. There was a never ending line of them eager to step up for a knife to the head, and without some kind of superhero abilities there was no maintaining that pace.

"You're bleeding," Carol pointed out matter-of-factly.

Glancing down I saw a small smear of crimson on my tank top. "Don't tell Hershel."

Carol handed us both some water which I gladly accepted, finding a spot against a wall and all but falling to the ground as I gulped it down greedily. Deadpool on the other hand took a tiny sip, placed the bottle on the ground, and started doing push-ups.

Show off.

When she started pulling her knee up in a half crunch each time she went down I decided we couldn't be friends anymore. Between the Fight Club at Woodbury, the firefight to escape, he who shall not be named ghosting me, the attack on the prison and being shot twice I was D-U-N. In the military we had a saying, "things can always get worse". It was a foolproof mantra and I knew it applied now, but I was having a hard time imaging what worse would look like in this situation. Maybe water turning to blood or swarms of locusts or no more ABCs and 123s. You know, Biblical stuff.

I wanted to sleep, but that would require venturing into my own personal hell otherwise known as my shared sleeping space with Daryl. I would sooner set my teeth on fire than deal with that so I settled against the wall, doing my best to get comfortable even as my ass went numb.

"Smart to stay fit," Merle commented as Deadpool finished her Crossfit workout. "I think if we're gonna live under the same roof we should clear the air."

I groaned. Guaranteed this conversation ended in bloodshed. I had $50 on Deadpool.

"This whole hunting you down thing." He paused dramatically. "That was just business. Carrying out orders." Deadpool made a non-committal sound in the back of her throat, not taking his olive branch. "I done a lot of things I ain't proud of before and...after." Merle's voice caught on the last word and I opened my eyes. "Anyway, hope we can get past it. Let bygone's be bygone's."

It was hard to decide if I was more shocked at his attempt at reconciliation or the fact he knew the word bygone. When it was clear she wasn't going to accept or decline his offer at the moment he sighed, standing up and walking out.

"You believe him?" Deadpool asked.

"Which part?" She glanced at me with her signature scowl and I exhaled sharply. "Hard as it is to believe there's a good man buried in there somewhere."

Somewhere really deep. Like under 100 pounds of asshole deep.

"So you trust him?"

I snorted, "Hell no." She gave me a 'what the fuck' look and I smiled. "I understand him. Known men like him my whole life. I don't trust him right now, but I could, in time."

He was Darth Vadar and to my Luke Skywalker except he was the one with a missing hand. I sensed the good in him, and believed he could find his way back to the light side of the Force.

"Seems like a long shot," she commented.

"Everything's a long shot these days."

"Andrea!" Carl shouted, skidding to a stop in the middle of the room, "Andrea's outside!"

I was on my feet in an instant, numb ass not slowing me down as I drew a weapon, running to the door.

"Is she alone?"

"I think so, but she's got a walker," the boy answered.

"She's got a what?" Rick exclaimed, following behind me.

I led the charge out of the cellblock Rick, Daryl, Merle, Deadpool and Beth right behind me. Crouching down behind the hood of a car I scanned the yard. Sure enough, there was Andrea's blonde head walking straight through the grass holding a walker by the throat with a pole.

"I really just need this day to end already," I mumbled, scanning the area for anyone else. "Looks like she's alone."

"Go," Rick ordered. Merle and I sprang from behind the truck as we fanned out.

"Clear," Merle stated, weapon scanning for danger.

Checking left and right on my side I yelled, "Clear."

Rick sprinted forward, the rest of us trailing behind as he called out to Andrea, "Are you alone?"

"Open the gates!" she screamed, head bobbing as walkers converged on her.

"Are you alone?!"

I put Andrea's forehead directly in my sights. I didn't like this. I didn't trust her showing up now of all times, hours after her boyfriend attacked us. If she so much as breathed the wrong way I would end her. My gut clenched in anxiety as I tried to reason if she'd come on her own or if The Governor sent her like his own personal Trojan horse? She was someone we knew, someone we trusted at one time and there was no better way to get behind our defenses than on the coattails of someone we saw as a friend. It reminded me a little too much of a suicide bomber.

"Rick!" Andrea's cries were getting desperate as she neared the fence, a trail of walkers following in her footsteps. Rick nodded at Daryl, tossing him the keys as he quickly unlocked the chains. Merle slide the gate open just wide enough for her to dart through as Rick and I kept our weapons aimed at her.

"Hands up! Turn around!"

"What?"

Rick pushed her up against the fence, "Turn around now!"

Rick patted her down, barely pulling her away from the fence before a walker clawed her face, shoving her to her knees as she yelped in distress. I kept my weapon aimed at her head as everyone else pointed theirs into the yard, bracing for another attack.

"I asked if you were alone," Rick whispered in her ear, continuing to check her for weapons as he pried a bag off her shoulder, tossing it away.

"I am."

Deadpool walked closer, her normally stoic face a kaleidoscope of emotions. Then I remembered she'd been the one to find Andrea after the farm. The two of them had survived winter together, been at Woodbury together, but where Deadpool had fled the community Andrea had stayed. Suddenly the hurt on Deadpool's face wasn't difficult to decipher.

"Welcome back." Rick grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet. "Get up."

She looked shocked at the rough treatment. Did she really expect us to roll out the welcome mat? That was presumptuous even for her. She followed Rick into the cellblock, her steps slow and eyes wide as she took in her surroundings. She looked shocked, but it was to be expected. Someone like Andrea had never seen the inside of prison, and everyone at Woodbury was living like they were smack dab in the middle of an episode of Leave It to Beaver. Needless to say the prison was a stark contrast.

When she saw Carol in the man cave she rushed forward, enveloping the woman in a tight embrace. I took up my customary spot against the wall in the corner, careful to keep my eye on her. Andrea and I never got along and that was before she sided with the enemy. She loathed the fact I joined the group for reasons I wasn't ever clear on and her more-talk-than-skill attitude got under my skin. I wasn't expecting a hug anytime soon.

Merle leaned against the wall next to me and I gave him a questioning look, but stayed silent as the corners of his mouth twitched in a barely there smile. You would have to be blind to miss the way Daryl's nostrils flared with anger and more than a little jealousy, and that was probably 80% of the reason Merle did it. The asshole still incorrectly thought we were married and nothing would entertain him more than being close to his brother's wife when he couldn't.

The two women hugged for so long it made me uncomfortable. Carol felt responsible for Andrea's "death" since she was the one to save her, but enough was enough. If they didn't break it up soon I was going to pry them apart with a crowbar just so we could get this show on the road.

"Hershel, my god," Andrea exclaimed. With us all stuffed into the man cave it didn't take her long to do the math. "I can't believe this. Where's Shane?" Rick swallowed hard, nodding his head no before looking away. "And Lori?"

I wanted to pistol whip her. It was a solid bet if you didn't see them standing here they were no longer with us.

"She had a girl. Lori didn't survive," Hershel said, supplying the details.

An involuntary shutter racked my body that almost sent me to my knees, Merle's good hand steadying me at my elbow. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to block out the sights and sounds of Lori dying, me killing her. When I opened them again Daryl was staring at me, his face pinched with concern. I couldn't hold his gaze so I dropped my eyes to the floor.

"Neither did T-Dog," Carol added. I was breathing so hard now my vision was blurry from lack of oxygen. Recounting the one's we'd lost was agony. Merle's hand stayed locked on my elbow even as I sagged against the wall.

"Hang in there Firecracker," he whispered only loud enough for me to hear.

I no longer thought Merle was helping me to fuck with Daryl. To him I was his brother's wife which made us family and nothing came between a Dixon and family. One of these days I was going to learn to think before speaking.

"I'm so sorry," Andrea muttered. Gathering myself I stood up straighter, cracking my neck as I gave Merle a quick nod to let him know I was good. He released me, but stayed close. "Carl..."

That did it. I was at my limit. Carl and Nugget were off limits.

"What do you want Andrea?" I ground out, drawing her attention away from the boy.

"I had to come, when I found out..." she trailed off, "You all live here?"

No, we lived somewhere else and just thought starting a war with your boy toy was a good way to pass the time.

"In the cellblock," Glenn confirmed, voice tense.

"There?" She pointed to the cellblock and Glenn nodded. Andrea was always slow on the uptake, but this was ridiculous. "Well, can I go in?"

She took a step forward, but Rick blocked her path. "I can't allow that."

"I'm not the enemy Rick," she stated. The state of our front gate would disagree, vehemently.

"We had that field, courtyard, until your boyfriend tore down the fence with a truck and shot us up."

"He said you shot first."

"He says a lot of things," I told her and she turned her head to look at me, taking in the bruises and cuts on my face and body, a question in her gaze. "Yeah."

"But he said..." she trailed off, her reality shifting under her feet.

"He's lying," Rick told her in a clipped tone.

"He killed an inmate who survived in here," Hershel elaborated.

"We liked him." Daryl looked at her, eyes serious. "He was one of us."

The unsaid message was clear, you aren't.

"I didn't know anything about that." She turned to me. "About any of it."

Merle snorted as I pinned her with an unimpressed look. "Hard to see things when you don't open your eyes."

"I didn't know Alex!"

"Couldn't hear me getting my ass kicked while you lounged in your La-Z-Boy?" I taunted, ignoring Daryl's uneasy glances as I spoke of my time in captivity.

"Please, you have to believe me. As soon as I found out I came. I didn't even know you were at Woodbury until after the shootout."

Glenn sneered at her, "That was days ago."

"I told you, I came as soon as I could," she insisted.

"Too busy knocking boots," I mumbled under my breath and Merle chuckled. She looked around the room for an alley, but found no friendly faces.

"What have you told them?"

"Nothing," Deadpool answered with a barely raised eyebrow.

Which was true. Andrea made her bed and it turned out she finally found one she didn't like lying in. Who knew?

"I don't get it. I left Atlanta with you people and now I'm the odd man out?" She turned a circle, pleading her case. "You've accepted Alex, Michonne, Merle for god's sake, but not me."

"He almost killed Michonne. He forced Alex to fight thirty men, thirty, with nothing but her bare hands while they came at her with knifes and bats!" Glenn's face turned red as he ranted. "He would have killed us all!"

Daryl sat on the table ramrod straight by the time Glenn was done and I shifted uncomfortably. I wasn't sure why he looked pissed enough to spit nails. One, I wasn't his to worry about anymore. Two, at least I got to fight back. Glenn and Maggie couldn't say the same. If he wanted to feel sorry for someone feel sorry for them.

"With his finger on the trigger," she pointed at Merle who took the accusation like he took everything else, with a cocky smirk and a barely raised eyebrow. The man was like Teflon, nothing stuck. "Isn't he the one who kidnapped you?" She pointed at Maggie. "Who beat you?" Now Glenn.

"He's also the one who helped get us out," I interjected, her fury filled eyes turning to me. Oh hell-to-the-no. Exhausted or not I would still beat her ass. "You better settle down."

She exhaled sharply, covering her face with her hands. "Look, I cannot excuse or explain what Philip has done, but I'm here trying to bring us together. We have to work this out."

"There's nothing to work out," Rick stated, a hint of madness in his eyes. If Andrea thought the reception she received from the group was shocking she was about to have the wind knocked out of her lungs dealing with crazy Rick. The man she knew in Atlanta died with his wife. "We're gonna kill him. I don't know how or when, but we will."

Dilly Dilly!

"We can settle this," she insisted, "There is room at Woodbury for all of you."

"Ooh, tempting..." I sucked in air between my teeth, sarcastically pretending to consider her preposterous offer. "But...I'm afraid I'm gonna have to pass on the torture this go round. Thanks for the offer though."

Daryl covered his laugh with a cough and I caught my smile at the very last second.

"She's right," Merle said, "You know better than that."

"What makes you think this man wants to negotiate?" I swear to all things holy Hershel was the living embodiment of Switzerland, always neutral. "Did he say that?"

"No." Well, this was 15 minutes of my life I was never getting back.

"Then why did you come here?" Rick asked, his patience evaporating quickly. Excellent question.

"Because he's gearing up for war. The people are terrified. They see you as killers. They are training to attack."

I was a killer so he got that part right, and from what I witnessed earlier his people should be training. Those dickheads couldn't shoot for shit.

"I'll tell you what, next time you see Philip tell 'em I'm gonna take his other eye," Daryl snarled.

My inner slut sat up and fanned herself despite my best attempts to tell that hooker to cool her tits. We may be over, but there was no ignoring the man's hotness. Not unless I wanted to channel my inner Philip and cut out both my eyes. It was only magnified when he went all John Rambo. It wasn't just me either. Carol had drool coming from the corner of her mouth and Maggie had a slightly dazed looked in her eyes. He unknowingly made every woman with a pulse want his boat docked in their sperm harbor.

"We've taken too much shit for too long. He wants a war, he's got one." Glenn was not messing around and I couldn't blame him. We'd been bitch slapped one too many times. It was time for the bitch to hit back.

"Alright, but if you don't sit down and try to work this out I don't know what's going to happen. He has a whole town." She waved her hands around the room at our paltry group. "Look at you. You've lost so much already. You can't stand alone anymore."

"You wanna make this right get us inside," Rick ground out, eyes deadly.

"No," she answered immediately. I bowed my head. She answered that way too fast. She would never be swayed into helping us.

"Then we got nothing to talk about."

She called out to Rick as he left, "There are innocent people there."

"There's innocent people here," I told her. "There's always innocent people in war."

She shook her head at me, "There doesn't have to be a war."

"You may be sleeping with the man, but you don't know him. There is no compromise with someone like him. You keep saying we can stop this war, but you can't stop somethings that's already begun."

Without waiting for her reply I followed Rick into the cellblock, no particular destination in mind, but I found myself in Nugget's room. The baby girl was sleeping peacefully and I sat down next to her makeshift crib, watching the hypnotic rise and fall of her chest. It wasn't long until Carol and Andrea made their way up the stairs, Carol offering to let Andrea hold the infant. I stood up, scowling at the woman in warning as I brushed passed her, our shoulders colliding. If even one hair was out of place on Nugget's head when she was done I would make The Governor's crazy look like a cake walk.

"Alex, can you tell Glenn to get a car ready for Andrea," Rick yelled from a below.

I bit my tongue to keep from saying something I wouldn't necessarily regret, but would pay for in the form of a Rick lecture. She walked here didn't she? Did she break her legs at some point? Why couldn't she walk back?

"Alex..."

I held my hands up in surrender as I stomped down the stairs, "I didn't say anything."

"But you're thinking it," he smirked.

I rolled my eyes, "No way you could know that."

"You scrunch up your nose and furrow your eyebrows when you're thinking about hurting someone. It's your murder face."

I relaxed my facial muscles. "I don't have a murder face." Did I?

"Whatever you say."

"I'll tell Glenn to prepare a car for the traitor. Should I check the brakes, refill the wiper fluid, maybe get her a snack for the road too?" I shot him a sickly sweet smile.

"Honestly, I'd take the murder face over that." He cringed at my toothy grin.

"I better hurry or I won't be able to check her tire pressure before she runs home to bump uglies with our nemesis."

I practically skipped off, his groan of annoyance making my day as he mumbled something about me being worse than Carl. That was laughable. He wished Carl was as well behaved as me.

After getting the car ready I leaned against a concrete pillar with one foot raised, arms crossed over my chest, murder face firmly in place. I was studiously avoiding Daryl's presence only a few feet away. I kept my mind occupied trying to decide what was harder, ignoring him or not throwing a knife at Andrea's head.

"Can you spare it?" she asked Rick.

Of course, why not? It was only the apocalypse where anything not nailed down was a precious resource, but by all means take one of our few working vehicles so you can drive back to your boyfriend's compound and help him finish his preparations to kill us all.

"Yeah."

Rick may be cold and slightly less than stable, but there were traces of his former self still left. If it was up to me I would have told that bitch to get to stepping and smiled doing it.

She gave everyone one final parting glance, her eyes pausing on Deadpool for a beat, swallowing thickly. It was clear the friends still hadn't found common ground and who could blame them. There was no gray area I could see. You were either with us or against us and right now Andrea was firmly against us. I didn't miss the slight nod Daryl gave her and I ground my teeth together, jealousy I had no right to feel expanding like an overfilled balloon in my chest.

"Well, take care."

"Andrea," Rick stopped her, stepping forward. He gave her back her knife and gun before telling her to be careful. His warning not about walkers.

"You too."

Daryl and I followed behind her car as the others hung back providing backup for Merle as he unlocked the last gate. I watched the car as it faded into the distance, mulling over Carol's advice to Andrea. I didn't see her following through with it, but that wasn't what shocked me. It was who the suggestion had come from. Last year you would have been hard pressed to hear her say two words and now she was planning assassinations like a feme fatale. Yet more evidence it was hard, if not impossible, to maintain even hints of your former self in this world. The thought made me incredibly sad, but not for myself. It was Carl and Nugget at the forefront of my mind. I didn't want them to ever feel like this, but I saw no way to avoid it.

It was late in the day and the group retreated back to the cellblock for the evening leaving Carl on first watch. I hung back, seeking solace anywhere but inside the concrete walls. The once spacious cellblock now felt suffocating. I needed space, time to think, and a place as far away from Daryl as possible. I didn't have the heart to untangle our once shared sleeping space. The prospect of going inside and facing the awkward song-and-dance around each other was less than appealing. So I made my way to the roof, and as I sat with my back against the small concrete wall I couldn't deny there was definitely a pattern when it came to me and rooftops.

My rifle lay across my lap, but my eyes were glued to the bright starts littering the inky dark night, not a cloud for miles. It was undeniably gorgeous and there was so little of that left in the world I couldn't bring myself to look away. Greek mythology said stars were the souls of the dead, heroes who earned their immortality in the night sky. I didn't necessarily believe that, but as I gazed at a particularly large and exceedingly bright star directly over my head that flickered in a pattern of bright to brighter then back to bright my thoughts immediately went to T. If it was true then that would be his star, his soul, larger than life and shinning so bright it lit up the night. There was another star, further in the distance and smaller, but the way it twinkled reminded me of someone laughing endlessly. That one would be Haley, smiling and full of laughter even in death. I didn't know what happened after you died, but becoming a star seemed as good an ending as any.

"Always on a roof."

Heaving a heavy sigh I tore my eyes away from the stars to observe the man who broken my heart as he stood uncomfortably a good 10 feet away. There were times I admired his dogged determination. Now was not one of those times.

"What do you want?" I looked away from him, watching the walkers milling around the yard already missing my stars. His feet shuffled forward and I had to force myself to relax.

"Didn't come down in for dinner."

"What-Do-You-Want?" He sighed and I almost knocked him off the roof. He didn't get to be put out. He didn't get to be angry.

"Told Merle we were married." His voice sounded funny, off somehow, so I looked at him, but his blank mask was in place so I couldn't get a read on him. Was he surprised, outraged, offended? I had no idea. Well, two could play at that game.

"And you didn't correcting him," I countered.

Why this was what he chose to focus on was anyone's guess, but I suppose it was bound to come up. It wasn't every day you found out you were married and had no recollection of it.

He ignored my statement. "Why?"

"He was on the outs at Woodbury. I was desperate and took a chance." I shifted uneasily, desperately wishing he would drop the subject. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, eyeing me critically.

"That the only reason?"

At first, yes. My sole focus had been getting the three of us out of there alive by any means necessary. It wasn't until after I said the words that an inexplicable feeling of elation, of longing, made itself known. It was only then I realized a teeny tiny part of me (every inch of me) wanted it to be true, but there was a better chance of walkers flying than me admitting that.

"Yes," I lied easily as his shoulder deflated. "Any reason you didn't set him straight? He's bugging me constantly about the next family reunion."

While I loathed the spotlight being on me in this conversation I had no issue pointing it at him. I was dying to know why he hadn't squashed the insane notion the moment it passed his brother's lips. In typical Daryl fashion he gave me a non-answer in the form of a shrug and a grunt. This talk was super productive thus far.

He didn't say anything else so I went back to pretending he didn't exist. It was exasperating when someone went out of their way to seek you out only to stand in silence once they found you. He could stand there in silence all night for all I cared. I had nothing to say. I closed my eyes, trying to get comfortable on the concrete roof, but it was wasted effort. Between Daryl's looming presence and the unforgiving surface I was screwed.

"I'm sorry I left ya."

I drug my teeth over my lip, keeping my eyes closed. "You said that already."

"Red..."

My eyes snapped open as I pointed a finger at him, "You don't get to call me that."

His lips thinned in annoyance.

"Alex." He fumbled my name, the sound of it strange on his tongue. "I wanna make this right."

"And how does that work exactly?" I hissed, "What do you want from me?"

"I want yur forgiveness!" he yelled back. Only Daryl could ask for forgiveness while screaming.

"Fine, apology accepted," I said and his eyes softened as he took a hesitant step forward. "Trust denied."

"Please..." I scoffed, remembering a time not too long ago when I'd sobbed in Rick's arms yelling that same word over and over with no result.

"Why did you come back?" I asked. The question shouldn't have caught him off guard, but judging by the look on his face it did. He had no idea what to say, unsure of how I would react. "It's a simple question."

"It was the right thing to do." He shifted his weight from foot-to-foot in a very un-Daryl-like fashion. Was he nervous? "Being here...with ya...it's where I belong."

"Wasn't the case a few days ago." He opened his mouth to reject my statement, but I cut him off, "I'm glad you came back. The group needs you. You're a valuable member, but you shouldn't have come back for me."

"Don't make this about the group," he scowled.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I was on my feet now, stalking towards with malice and an undeniable murder face. "You left, not me, you!" I pointed an accusatory finger in his face. "You left when you knew it would destroy me. You knew being left behind was one of my biggest fears and you did it without hesitation. I loved you! I trusted you with everything and you broke all your promises!"

My breathing was ragged, my heart hammering in my chest as all my pent up anger came surging to the surface at once. Daryl absorbed hit after hit, his face paling with each accusation, but I wasn't done yet. He started this, but I was going to finish it.

"It was supposed to be you and me. That's what we swore. This side or other, do you remember?" I gestured between the two of us. He shook his head yes as the bitter taste of adrenaline coated my tongue. "Did you mean any of it?" As usual words failed him and he said nothing. "You were gone the moment you saw your brother in that ring. You didn't even try to figure out another way, you didn't fight for us, for me, you just...left." I blinked rapidly, swallowing down the urge to cry. "You don't get to have me back. Not after that. We're done."

He looked visibly shaken, his face stricken and it may have been my imagination, but I swear I saw tears in his eyes but it was too dark to be sure. A few days ago that would have caused me to go into cardiac arrest. Now it didn't even register on my radar. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing came out as I shook my head at him, turning away and going back to my spot against the wall.

"I love ya," he admitted softly, unsure of himself. I stopped mid-stride, turning around slowly to face him, surprised my head didn't keep spinning around like the Exorcist.

"Don't." My voice was low, menacing, absolutely lethal. It was meant as a threat and he took it as one, his body responding in kind as he readied for an attack. "You don't get to say that to me now."

"Can't tell me what I feel."

"You're right, I can't, but I do get to choose what I believe, and I don't believe you." He hissed out a string of curses, frustration making his body shake. "The fact that you're saying it at all is proof enough its bullshit."

"The fuck?" he glared at me and if I wasn't so fucking mad I would've laughed. "That don't make no damn sense."

I shook my head at him, turning around and sitting down. The fight drained out of me as quickly as it had come. When I was good and comfy I looked back at him, smirking at his irritation.

"You don't express yourself with words. You didn't before we were together and you certainly didn't after." I paused briefly, letting it soak in. "You're a man of action, not words."

"Yur sayin' I'd never tell ya I love ya? That's bullshit."

I laughed, "No, if things had been different you would've told me, eventually, but you would have shown me long before you ever worked up the nerve to say the words."

And I do mean long. Probably years if I had to venture a guess. Too bad I would never know. He took a step forward, his long legs carrying him half the distance to me.

"Yur sayin' I ain't never showed ya how I feel? Fuck that Red. I ain't done right by ya, not by a mile, but that ain't true."

The smile on my face gave him pause. I didn't even bother to address his use of my nickname. I was tired and it was time for him to leave.

"You're absolutely right Daryl. You did show me exactly how you feel." His forehead creased in confusion, sensing the trap he'd unknowingly stumbled into but didn't understand. "You showed me how you felt when you turned your back on me as I begged you to stay. You made it abundantly clear how you felt when you left me crying on the road in the arms of another man."

"Red..."

"Get off my roof."


So...tell me...what'd ya think?

Don't hate me. Remember, it's only been a little over a day since "the incident" and for a lot of that Alex was unconscious. Don't worry, we will eventually move passed this type of interaction between our fav couple, but slowly, realistically. It's going to take time to rebuild the relationship and I hope you guys are good with that. I think you are really going to enjoy the journey.

Thank you all for reading!