A/N: Guys, thank you so much for the feedback and encouragement you've given me, right now, I am so tired and it's already past midnight but wanted to update, just so because you were that nice :)

We start another POV character, this time; the sheriff of the town Rick Grimes, whoa.

XX.

We're still together.

The words were turning in his mind on an indefinite loop as Rick tried to keep things on balance before they were undone like a tangled ball of yarn, coming apart at the seams. He himself felt like he was coming apart at the seams. He couldn't let that happen, they'd just found each other, had managed to stay alive against at all odds. They need to keep it together, they needed to hold on and endure, but it was easier to say than done.

Now everyone was at each other's throat, he himself literally. Inwardly, he winced, recalling the way he'd grabbed Amanda, the woman who was fast becoming the bane of his existence. His reaction was off the charts, Rick was aware, he hadn't even reacted that way to Father Gabriel, and this shit was all his damn stupidity. But the father had never tested him, had never pushed his buttons the way Amanda Shepherd had been doing. All in frankness, he hadn't really thought she'd done it, at least willingly as Beth had claimed, something was wrong with the girl, Rick had gathered –and known about what, too—at the first glance, but all the things she'd done since she'd been here with them, and all the things she'd done even before that, the way she'd been at the hospital… He wanted to believe that she wasn't that woman—wanted to believe that she was the woman that had saved some people, too, wanted to believe she was better than being a selfish, self-serving scheming witch that could do anything to get what she wanted; she had come to him, then acted like she was…sort of happy leaving things off on his hands, but there was that little nagging voice in his head—warning him—that little doubt—and all the things they had suffered out there—and he was damn too tired and damn too wired, then Amanda flashed at him that damn smile… And he snapped.

How did they come to this point, Rick didn't know. How his people had come to this point, he didn't know. They were supposed to be a family, bounded together not by blood but by the shared tragedies and hardship, but now they seemed alike a fractured group of people the fate had threw together, hardly functioning, dysfunctional as hell.

He couldn't let that happen, still, but he hardly knew how to stop it, either, and it made him even more worked-up, strained like a barbed wire because he had to. He had to keep his people together, it was his damn job, first self-appointed, then later sort-of-elected, but it was his job, and he was failing at it spectacularly since he had let that fucking sonofabitch run over the prison and hurt his people, forcing them to run off away scattered.

Everything from then on was a shitload of trouble. They couldn't go on like this, but then they needed to go on, too, that was the way of things were now, nowhere was safe—nothing lasted, every safe have they found was only temporary.

But they were making it, like each time, and they had made it out far from worse and only time would tell how it was going to end this time. But he knew one thing. Once he was out on the road once again, he wouldn't stop until he got his people to safety. There was no dawdling, no indecision anymore. He was going to do what he had to, to protect his family. His eyes skipped to Carl, as he held Judith protectively in his arms, and his mind grew decisive. He was going to do what must be done. They were not going to have to survive another winter out in the open again.

Daryl came to his side then as he looked over the station wagon cars for the last time. There was a few things they could bring with them as most of their stuff now was left to the dead in the church—just to keep them on their feet for the journey, for the rest they would just make another supply run. The gas in the car would make the journey, so Rick was only praying for no tire or motor problems. The things he'd mentioned to Amanda to make her…be reasonable. He'd told her she could leave if she wanted—her hand on the gun and all-and he meant it. He wasn't going to stop her if she'd wanted to go, but at the same time the idea irked him—thinking her out there alone—He wanted her to get off his back—not get off in the wild to be killed or worse. "You ready?" Daryl asked, wandering his gaze over the car.

Rick nodded. "Almost." He gave the man a look, "Do you still think it's the best idea? Maybe she should stay back with you?" he asked.

To tell the truth, Rick had his own reservations about Beth accompanying them on this mission, but later Daryl had insisted that it would be good to her to stay away. Rick had seen the point, but wasn't still too convinced. For one thing, Amanda was ignoring Beth, too, and he knew the policewoman was pissed at Beth almost as much as she was at Rick. But Daryl shook his head, "No—she needs something to focus, to take her mind off what happened here. She'll hold up together as long as she puts something into her mind. She means to take Noah back to home. I know."

The words had come out of the gruff man easily. Rick gave him a look, a long searching look. It was surprising to see Beth and Daryl like this—knowing each other this well—being this close—but this world had given birth even more far fetched surprises. Rick recognized Daryl's reluctance to take things further—and if he had to be honest, he almost felt glad, too. If they chose to go on with it, he wouldn't have objected—but there was something just felt wrong thinking him with Beth—Hershel's daughter—even though he knew the rules of the old world didn't apply to them anymore, but it was still there—that nagging, bugging disturbance just standing there at his subconscious. Maybe they were just old. He was sorry for his friend, for his brother, though, because he really wanted Daryl to have somebody to lean on, to trust, and to love and protect, but perhaps it was better this way. For a second, he remembered Lori, and like always the memory brought the pain and the hard taste of the failure then his eyes fell on Michonne as she stood with Carl and Judith—preparing too, then somehow moved to Amanda as she talked to her own people.

Daryl followed his gaze, too. "Beth needs to sort out things with her," Daryl stated, his surly tones also stating his displeasure, "They need to talk." Daryl paused for a second, looking at him, "You need to talk to Amanda, man. This thing can't go on like this."

Rick gave Daryl a pointed look. "I'm not on her list of favorite people right now."

"She listens to you," Daryl said back, "Talk to her. She's mad, but will listen to you." I was choking her yesterday, Rick told himself but Daryl continued before he could make it aloud, "She might try to choke you back first, but will listen to you at the end." He paused, frowning, and giving him a look, "She always does."

She always listened to the reason, not to him, but it worked the same, so he thought Daryl had a point. Rick nodded.

Daryl gave him another look, "Take care of her, 'kay?" he asked, his rasping voice so faint, and so much in anguish, for a moment, Rick wanted to take a hold on his brother's neck, bring him closer and tell him to fuck off everything and take Beth, all the rest be damned. He deserved this. They deserved this. They deserved to take whatever happiness they could find in this world, because tomorrow would be just too late.

But Daryl turned back, and had already started walking away, and the moment had passed away. He saw Amanda marching at him with that purposeful stride a couple of minutes later, her face set up, her lips clenched, lips turned down as if she'd eaten something rotten, and she was giving him a look openly saying that he was the reason.

Rick barely held on a sigh, getting irritated, because he was getting tired, really tired of this, her marching at him as if she was going to war. She stood a few feet away from him, her legs open in a defensive position, holding her ground firmly, looking at him. He knew it was another challenge, much like her hand on the gun—and he knew she was still testing him—and Amanda was a sort of woman that with every given inch, she would run off miles with it, and he knew she knew that he knew, so he stood there too, giving her a stare back in warning… stop testing me, woman!

"What're you going to do if they decide to play the hard ball?" Amanda asked a second later.

Rick frowned, getting an inkling of where she was going with the inch she got before, "What do you mean?"

She held back his gaze, "You didn't want to leave before because you weren't that man," she told him, "so I'm asking what you're going to do if they don't be…reasonable? Do you have a plan?" She gave him another smile, "Or you'll just to go away and forget about it?" she asked, "Try to make it at somewhere else?"

"Are you always this pessimistic?" Rick asked back, not admitting the same questions were turning in his own head. He was going to do what it must be done. He just didn't decide yet on what. He just wanted to talk first, to see…maybe things would be okay, just for once, just for once, they could just…live together. He couldn't take the chance before, but now they were without options, out there again on the road. It was a long trip, but if it worked…

"We're talking about you," Amanda shot back, "Don't expect me to believe you've become optimistic just an overnight," she warned, "So don't play dumb with me. You said if you go there, you'd take it," she reminded him.

That he did, and he was going to do it, too, but not before if there was no other chance. "You want us to?" he asked.

She shook her head, "There's no us," she bit off, "We go together, then we're done," she said placidly.

"Then what do you want to learn?"

"I want to learn what you'd do if things go wrong."

He gave her a solemn look. Whatever I have to do… he passed in his mind, "I'm going there to talk," he said out loud.

She shook her head. "Do you really believe that I'd believe that?"

"Believe whatever you want," he shot back, taking a step closer to her, a warning in his voice, feeling his muscles straining—stretched out—"I'm going there to talk."

"What if they say no?" she pressed further.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said, just to get her off his damn back before he snapped again.

"Really?" Amanda snarled back, and a derisive smile followed, "I thought you're more for burning down the bridges."

Here they were again… He took another step in on her, and really, he was really tired of this-and annoyed—and…he was coming apart at the seams and she couldn't just stop pushing him… "Look," he snapped back, trying to keep his annoyance in check, but failing, "I know you're upset—"

She took a step in on him in response, cutting him off, "Upset?" she bit off, "Because you think I'm sort of people who would do that?" she paused, "You've judged me long before that, haven't you? Do you think I missed the looks both you and Daryl gave me? Not a cop like you, right?"

He gave a questioning look, and asked, "Were you?" Because in truth, he just couldn't be sure.

"No!" she cried out, her eyes flashing, "No, I'm not like you, but I'm not dirty, either! I've never been in one shred of it, never!" She paused, "But that's all what you see, right? The kind of people Amanda Shepherd is…just another dirty cop on the mob's payroll."

"It wasn't me who accused you, Amanda," he reminded her then, "It was Beth."

"Beth was hurt! She just got her first dump by the man she loves and learned his sister cares about her birds and the bees more than her. She's got excuses to be mean! What's your excuse?"

"What's my excuse, my excuse?" Rick asked back, incredulous, because he couldn't fucking believe what he was hearing, "Are you fucking kiddin' me, Amanda? You really think you're clean as a whistle in this, done nothing wrong—?" He walked in on her, cornering her against the car's door, "You really believe you didn't have it coming!" He shook his head, "C'mon, gimme a break!"

Her face contorted with anger. "You sonofabitch!" she swore in a hiss, "I came to you. I came to you!"

"Just once, just once," he reminded her, "What about the other times? All the other times you tried to test me, tried to manipulate me… The times that you all did what you could to play your games? Just pushed my buttons so you could see if I'd bite… So yes, I'm sorry I didn't believe in you just because you came to me once, deciding to play nice, so I'm sorry if I wasn't quick to give you the benefit of the doubt, but don't act like you're not reaping here what you sowed!"

There were unshed tears in her eyes now, glazed in the depths of her blue irises. For a few second, he thought if he'd gone far too much again, but there was something with her that brought out his worst, a conflict because even now as a part of him questioned if he had gone too far, there was another part of him was actually glad to see her like this, looking at him with tears and all. "I hate you," she seethed then, rising up on her toes to hiss out the throaty low words at his face.

Rick shook his head, his eyes fastened at her watery ones, "You hate that I'm right."

# # #

Her arm was throbbing, but Beth was focused on it like a lifeline that connected her to the world. She'd wrapped it with the red cloth had Daryl had cleaned her in the clinic when she'd thrown up. She'd washed the piece of cloth after, and kept it with her since then. It felt acrid, sour, hiding the scars she'd cut on herself with something of his, but Beth felt it also suited.

This—these scars were his, too, something he'd caused, even though she didn't like thinking of it as that. She didn't want anyone see them, either, so she'd hidden them securely under her grey cardigan, wrapped with his cloth. She wondered briefly how he might feel if he ever saw it, but then shook her head at herself. He would just think she was doing it for attention, she guessed, just how he'd thought she'd tried to kill herself for attention. He never got her. She remembered the times she'd felt she needed to tell him that it wasn't like that, that she hadn't been looking for attention, because she didn't want him think of her like that—like…like a dumb college bitch looking for attention. Her head rested on the car's window at the backseat, she smiled at her reflection, pale face, matted hair—dirty skin— He never understood her, he never did.

The journey to the north, up to Virginia was…less eventful than she'd expected. Somehow it felt good to be on the road, too, and she didn't know why. Amanda was seated next to her at the backseat, her own head rested on the window, too, wrapped in her own thoughts, ignoring everyone in the car, much like Beth doing, too. Suddenly, Beth wanted to be alone with her, talk with her like they used to—she could understand—Amanda would tell how things were as they were, with no qualms about it, but she could understand. She always did. She could perhaps even understand why Beth had to do it… Why she needed to feel it. She couldn't talk about it plainly, though, not really she would tell some snarky thing or another, but she would get it. That was her thing.

She just wanted her friend back.

Michonne was next to Rick's side on the passenger seat at the front of the car as Rick drove the car with a set up expression over his face, his eyes focused ahead. At the back of the station wagon there were Tyreese and Noah, stashed together on the metal floor. Beth wondered how Noah must feel right now, rattled with anticipation of seeing his family once again after almost two years. This world—this world was changing everything, making them a part of its dreadful existence too. The family Noah he was going to see now perhaps wouldn't be like the family Noah had left behind. Beth could've never dreamed that her own family would've ended up like how they had, not even in her wildest dreams. Maggie and she were half-sisters, yes, but they shared the same father. They were half sisters, but apparently in this suck-ass world it didn't mean as much as it used to. Times were a-changing, so they were, too. Beth had, too. She could feel it deep in her bones. What even Dawn and Grady had failed to manage, her own family did. Her hand idly found her arm again and she pressed it on the scar over cardigan, and felt it throbbing—like a pulse, like her pulse, her heart throbbing.

Rick brought the radio up. "Daryl-?" he called in, Beth turned her look once again to outside. They'd passed South and North Carolina—had made through much of Virginia, too. She knew they were following behind, two cars—one driven by Daryl, the other by Carol, keeping a safety distance—before Rick introduced himself to these new people.

She hoped things would go good, but hope hadn't done them any good. That thought sounded much more like Daryl than her, so Beth brushed it away. She didn't want to sound like him, but apparently his pessimistic view of the world had rubbed itself on her, too.

"Yeah-?" Daryl voice came back just after the thought. Beth snickered inwardly.

"We're coming closer, wanted to check if you're still in the zone," Rick talked to Daryl over the radio, "If you don't hear from us in the next hour, come looking for us," he told him for the last.

Well, that was it, they were ending another journey, pushing another frontier into the unknown. Michonne and Rick shared a short look, Michonne silently giving the former sheriff the support she felt he needed, and for a second, Beth almost laughed. Amanda had been right, Michonne was much like a wife to Rick—giving support, covering his back, being always there when she was wanted, almost expected, but Beth smiled because it came to her ironic that Michonne was a sort of housewife before the world turned upside now, and she'd just managed to fix herself into her role again. Amanda was right, Michonne was a wife material, and found herself another family to fawn over at.

In another world, in another time, Beth would have longed for the same thing, too, but right now, she just wanted to tell it to Amanda, so she could hear the older woman's amused but with barely hidden sneering laughter ringing in the air, and a derisive untold "told you so" clear in it. When you thought of it, it was really amusing. Or she was really broken—in a way Amanda was, an orphan.

They parked a few miles away from Noah's town and got out of the car. Noah was almost trembling now. Tyreese gave him an encouraging smile, "It's gonna be all right, it's gonna be all right."

Beth looked at the big man. He'd said those words with such a conviction that Beth couldn't bring herself to protest even though she knew nothing was ever going to be all right in this world again. Tyreese had still hope keep on going. Beth suddenly felt jealous and mad at him, both at the same time—how he could still like this when everything was so screwed, but perhaps his time hadn't come yet, not yet, a day would come to show him what this suck-ass world truly was. Beth knew it would, someday.

As they walked to the town, Beth fell back on Amanda's side, as the other woman scanned the area with hawkish eyes, her hand loosely on her hip, touching at her gun. Rick and Michonne were taking the point, and Amanda was at their six, Noah and Tyreese in the middle. There was something being on a mission, something that made her keenly alert, focused, keeping her mind busy, and the throbbing in her arm was doing the rest. She saw a structure of rotten metal surrounding the area. Rick was questioning Noah about the spotters and snipers as Michonne kept his back. Beth tossed a glance at Amanda. "Do you know what I just remembered?" Her voice was clear and absent of anything that hung heavily between them, and Beth just told her, her eyes turning to Rick and Michonne, "Michonne was a housewife before."

Amanda's steps faltered only for a few seconds before she started walking again, then shook her head, but smiled faintly at her. "Keep your eyes open, Beth."

Beth turned back, and did; she kept her eyes open, what she saw a couple of minutes later though wasn't a safe haven, but was just another macabre.

Just another day in the apocalypse.

# # #

"Wolves not far."

Amanda glared at the script over the bricks, her stomach twisted into knots. This was…twisted, all of it, mutilated body parts scattered around them, made of small hills of rotten flesh, burned down houses, scrambled to ashes, and the air was so bad with odors she almost gagged. She couldn't have thought of it possible, but it was even worse than the city. Whoever did this, they were some sick bastards, and Amanda realized grudgingly that Rick fucking Grimes was right again; the world were full with sick bastards, and she hadn't even seen half of it yet. And you haven't even seen half of it yet.

She really hated him. She really did hate him always being right.

What the hell she was supposed to do now? She'd been so hell bent on thinking what they would do, how they would proceed if they didn't want to share their safe haven with them, she hadn't dwelt—she didn't want to dwell what if they weren't there at all at the first place, because it would bring further questions, like what they would do after then, and she didn't want those questions. It was damn too much for tastes. She bet he did, though it didn't look like it made much difference at the end.

Noah was crying. Tyreese was still holding him. Rick was having a discussion with his supposedly apocalypse wife. Michonne wanted to take a chance with Washington, and Amanda felt torn. Rick was still dragging his feet, not wanting to go along with another wild goose chase, but Michonne also had a point, even Amanda could admit it. Rick had called it as a chance, Michonne had called it a possibility, but for Amanda really didn't matter a damn shit what they called it. They needed something to lean on, and going to Washington sounded like a good idea.

Only it was too much vague, just felt to her like they would be drifting away nevertheless if they chose that. They needed a clear direction, a clear purpose. Amanda had already seen what had happened when you lost that integrity, when you lost that purpose and drifted away… she didn't want to experience it again. The times after Hanson had been really hard, she'd watched helplessly her people give up—had watched a man she'd always thought as badass put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. Even she'd herself thought about it a few times, like everyone else, but always put the thought away as much as forte she could've mustered up—Amanda Shepherd wasn't a quitter. If she was to die, she still preferred it to be getting eaten alive than just pulling the trigger of a gun in her mouth. Nope. No one was ever going to call her behind her back a quitter, even when she was dead. Dawn's faith—her faith that everything was going to be okay, everything was going back to normal had come like a life saver then, had kept them on their feet, kept them going on. She'd never truly believed in it, never, but the others did, or just wanted to, much like as she did.

Now, Dawn was dead, Grady was lost, even the church was gone, and she hated Rick fucking Grimes. She stopped for a moment, looking at the graffiti over the brick walls, written with blood, asking herself why he always had to be right. Perhaps she had to think of another word. Hate just didn't seem to convey what she felt for the man. She knew hatred, over the course of her life, she had met so many men she hated—men like Gorman, but Rick fucking Grimes was different. And she was upset on that fact, too.

You hate that I'm right… She shook her head, brushing off away the thought and looked around. Rick Grimes would think of her whatever he damn pleased, it hardly mattered to her, as long as he kept his hands to himself, and he could shove his benefit of doubt up into his ass! She was what she was, and if he waited for an apology for it, he should wait a while longer, because she was never going to apologize for being who she was, never. If anyone should have been apologizing, it had to be him! She was the one who almost got strangled. Okay, she must've been not as clean as a whistle as he had said, but… She wondered if he really would've done it, would have gone through it, even though she knew it was wrong to think it like this-she just couldn't believe it—couldn't believe him going through it…she felt they had…something.

She shook her head, crushing down the thought as quickly as it appeared. They got nothing. Beth had sat on the ground a few feet away from her, looking distraught, and the sight twisted something inside her, she couldn't help herself. Amanda really wanted to ignore her, she really did, but her damn conscience just wasn't letting her. She at least had an excuse, not like some assholes she knew. Besides, it didn't look like they got anywhere else to go, either, better or worse they were stuck together. She'd thought she could have left but Rick had made her see that it wasn't a good idea just with a few words. She'd thought then she'd just ignore them here, but she'd been wrong again. Nowhere was safe, and it was still better than being alone out there.

It kinda sucked, but the world sucked that way—even before the apocalypse anyways. Her world hadn't changed all that much on that regard.

She picked up a piece of broken bottle and sniffed at it, picking up the familiar scent right away. She scowled, and turned to Rick. She raised and started walking to him. With a glance at her, Michonne started walking away, leaving him alone beside a wall of mutilated legs and other broken body parts.

Sick, it was really sick. What kind of people would really do that? She handed him the broken bottle. "Molotov cocktails," she said, "This—" she gestured with her hand, "—isn't walkers."

Rick nodded. "I know." He pointed at the wall she'd read the script, too, "Wolves."

She looked around again, shaking her head. "I don't understand," she said then, "Why anyone would do this… like we don't have enough already. It's sick."

Rick gave her a look. "The world is full with sick people now."

"I know," she said back, "It just don't…make sense."

Wordlessly, Rick nodded, but didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say. It didn't make sense, but that was the way of the things, as well. It wasn't supposed to make sense. Not anymore, at least, but she also didn't know if it ever did. "Michonne's right," Amanda then said, and Rick snapped his eyes at her, as if he was surprised, and Amanda could understand because she was surprised herself too, hearing the words from her own lips, "But we need something to go on. We can't wander around aimlessly, hoping to come up with a place."

Rick looked at her searchingly. "We?" he asked, his eyes keen and looking beyond.

There is no us, we go together, then we're done… Letting out a sigh, she looked around the horrid scene around her… Well… "You were right," she said, stressing the word, biting off, "I haven't even seen the half of it yet, and I don't want to see the rest…alone…" Without you, almost left her mouth, but she managed to keep it inside, instead went with, "Still hating you, though."

He shook his head, and gave her a bit smile, a knowing one, then said, "I know."

Good lord! "Talk to Beth, okay?" Rick said then but before she could even open her mouth and say something back, he continued, "She isn't well." Amanda frowned. This thing was between her and Beth, and she dealt with it on her own time, on her own terms. She'd already sort of forgiven Beth, too, but she wasn't going to have it shoved down through her throat, especially by Rick Grimes, not just after she'd accepted that she needed him to make it out. "If you want to be a part of this, you need to be a part of it, of us," Rick went on, "She needs you, Amanda. She's your friend."

She huffed, snorting through her nose. They were all fucking friends here, in the lands of milk and honey, over the end of the rainbow. "Amanda—" Rick called her, his voice hitched a tone sterner, the voice she started hating too, because each time she somehow found herself listening to it…

"Okay…okay… I'll do—get off—" she started telling him to get off her back, too, but couldn't finish because a scream tore in the air.

A/N: Little Beth, and almost no Daryl at all, I know, but I wanted to put things in order between Rick and Amanda before I delve into Beth and Daryl, pulling them back on the track, too. Rick's POV was definitely the hardest one I've ever tried... I hope I've done him justice.