A/N: attn. please. updating two chapters at once.

XXVII.

"Do you want to be here?" the woman asked, and Daryl halted on his steps as he paced back and forth in the room and gave the old woman a fleeting look. He hadn't taken a seat as the woman requested too, because it felt ridiculous—damn fucking ridiculous to sit down in front of a camera and answered questions like a moron.

The real answer for that question was a hell no, but he didn't think the woman would like it to hear it. It didn't matter anyway. They were all here. Beth and the rest of the group had wanted to see, and Rick had walked in, so here they all were. It didn't matter anymore what he wanted.

"People I care…" Daryl said, and stopped for a second, his dead possum still in his hand and he didn't have a damn idea why, then told the woman what Beth had said, "They deserve a roof above their heads."

"Hmm…" Deanna said in return.

Rick had turned to from his…interview telling them to look around, but Daryl had stayed behind, he had no desires to look around those clean, white houses—Rick had mentioned how he and Lori used to pass over the neighborhoods like this and thought if one day they would have lived in one of them… Well they were all here now, Daryl had said. And, all in frankness, despite everything Daryl was still hating it.

It wasn't only that the place looked like the neighborhoods he'd passed over in front of too, unlike Rick, alone a cold, contempt with fury deep in his stomach… the families and fakeness of the façade… all happy, and he could've bet fake. No, Daryl had passed those times now. He'd dealt with his contempt and fury, but the feel of not belonging was still with him, but it wasn't only that, either.

The place damn reminded him of the funeral home, and it was bad. Like always, it was bringing back familiar fears…remembering how much a fool he'd been there, lowering his guard. Electricity, water, walls… the comforts of the back of the days. If they lowered their guards now, this place was going to turn them soft. He just knew that. Though, Daryl could see none of them was lowering their guards, they were all still wary.

He remembered Beth's wariness, like a wild animal trying to catch a scent of a trap in the wild, and despite everything his insides still screamed in protest… He knew he was being an idiot, but he couldn't help himself. This wasn't how she was supposed to be… this wasn't his Beth—the Beth he knew would have been spinning around now—feeling giddy—p-paralyzed with happiness, laughing… and it was high time for Daryl to finally accept the truth that Beth was gone, she'd lost that girl somewhere along the way from the prison to this place.

It hurt Daryl, it hurt him so badly he wanted to drop on his knees and cry—he wanted his Beth back, the girl who had sung to him they were all be good while he was lying in a coffin—the girl who used to write thank you notes to the people she didn't know… He had been so ready to try it out then…so ready… to see if it would work.

He wouldn't make the same mistake again. He couldn't. He hated it—even though he didn't know what he hated…he hated—the fate, the world, his own failure to protect her… He loved her—he loved her truly and wholly—but still he had failed her. He'd failed her so much.

When Deanne realized he was in no mood to talk the woman sent him off with a nice smile. She looked good, someone who knew a few things about people too, but Daryl wasn't really in the mood. "Why don't you go and prepare your dinner, Mr. Dixon," the leader of the town said, "We'll talk later."

Daryl grunted in answer, and tailed back.

On his way back, at the next house to Deanne's, he saw a little boy around ten or so with dirty blonde hair as he was watching him from their own porch, his hands at the railings, his face pressed on it—staring at him—staring at the dead animal in his hands and his crossbow over his back. Daryl turned aside toward him, and growled faintly at the boy, leaning on. The boys at his age could easily get the wrong ideas and he didn't want a little one playing with his crossbow like a toy.

He turned back to the house, and sat down the steps, placing the possum next to him, and let out a grunt sigh. Like he'd predicted, this was going to be dawn awful. Give him walkers in the woods anytime, he wouldn't even blink—but this… no, all in frankness, Daryl understood he still preferred being out there instead of…this.

Beth must still be inside, searching the house with the others, and Rick was out looking around the town, possibly getting all the exits and entrances, mapping out the buildings, and he should do the same too, that was the damn thing he should do—not sit down on his ass, not doing no shit, but somehow he still stayed on the steps, his dead animal at his side, feeling like shit—but trying not to think anything…

Carl and Carol exited the next house they were given to, and walked towards him. "Hey, how the interview went?" Carol asked, resting against the railings.

"Hmm…" Daryl grunted out in answer.

"Did you check around?" Carol asked, looking at him. Daryl shook his head.

"All these…" Carol said then at his silence, "And they're giving them away freely."

"No shit ain't free," Daryl shot back, playing with his thumbs.

Carl looked around the town, his eyes wandering, "I told Dad this place is gonna turn us weak," the young boy then said after a while.

Daryl lifted his head and looked at Carl, not surprised. Rick Grimes wasn't raising a son for an idiot. Carl had understood what he felt too, but Carol shook her head. "No… I don't think your Dad will let that happen. We'll see."

Daryl gave Carol a look, and she gave him a smile back, and Daryl understood one thing once again, despite all the sweet, kind looking exterior she put on as a front, Carol was a woman still tough as nail. She waved at Carl and ushered him inside the house, "Let's find the others," she said, and turning to him, she asked, "You coming?"

Daryl shook his head. No. He didn't want to see the houses. He continued sitting there alone after they went inside, stilling doing no shit, wondering if Carol was right, being weak wasn't in them anymore and if they would turn this place into something else before it turned them.

Beth found him like that after a while. Wordlessly, she sat down at the other side of the animal at the step and looked ahead. She still had the same wary air, and Daryl wanted to sigh out heavily, but kept it inside, then caught her look at her forearm.

Damn! "Hey—ya 'kay?" he asked then.

"I—I don't know," she answered, her voice small, "I know we can't stay out there anymore… I know that wasn't a living and this—this's so good… I saw beds inside… clean, soft, white sheets…"

She breathed out. Daryl nodded, "I know," he said and he touched her hand because he didn't know what else to do, "I know…" and Daryl really had to accept that this Beth was the woman he loved now, and he told her he loved her, this and that, whole.

Whole.

He still loved her whole.

"When we found the prison first," Beth started talking after a while, "I couldn't even open my backpack for a month. I couldn't bring myself…to hope," Daryl started listening closely, "Couldn't bring myself to believe again that was it…it'd ended. We could stay there forever, safe. Then my father asked me…what was the point of living if we didn't have hope… so I dared to hope. And when we lost it, it was so awful, Daryl." She rested her head on his shoulder, and asked, "Do you remember me?"

And he could—he still remembered her—telling him she needed do this, needed her drink, staring at him, and her accusations that he never understood her, and perhaps she had been right, he always failed to understand her, because right now as he wondered this place would turn them softer if it was what they claimed it to be, Daryl realized that Beth was afraid of losing it like they'd lost prison.

Her head still on his shoulder, Beth went on, "I don't want to feel like that ever again. One part of me wants to return to the woods, to stay there—never try this so I could…be spared from the pain." She lifted her eyes up at him, "Is that how you feel too?"

His eyes found hers, but he couldn't tell her he was more afraid to turn softer, weaker, and fail her…not being able to protect her as he should. "I'm used to things being ugly, Beth," he said instead, "but yeah… sometimes I get scared of…good things, too." He'd been so scared…of losing her, hurting her…failing her…the only good thing he'd ever truly had.

"Like us?" Beth questioned, and he couldn't answer, but he didn't need to, she knew the answer, "I know you were afraid of us… I always knew it, Daryl," she then said, "But I think I never truly understand before how it feels before." How it felt… how it felt awful…coming close to losing her…and he wished Beth would never learn, but he also knew it was too late for that wish now.

"Amanda calls it a comfort zone," she went on after a second, "staying safely in a place of what you're used to…even if it's bad. But even it's good, nothing ever grows there. We can't stay there," she said, then she got stiff beside him, he felt, "We have to get out of there." She pulled back and looked at him, her eyes open and clear fixed at his, and he saw a stubborn light inside them, the light he'd so missed… "We have try."

"How?" Daryl found himself whispering out, because he wanted to… God knew he wanted to…

"I don't know," she then answered truthfully, but held his hand tighter, "But I'm gonna find out," and her eyes shone brighter, and Daryl saw the girl at the woods that screamed at him once again—the girl at the woods who had slowly but determinately pulled down his every walls, lying them down at her feet—and that was the Beth he knew, it always her…and Daryl understood with a sudden realization that he didn't only love her more than the life itself, but he also admired her…admired her resolute belief, her never ending fight not to lose hope even things were just damn godawful.

And as he'd done before they watched the sunrise, he pulled her toward himself—burying his head on her shoulder, breathing her scene in, and he wanted to bury himself in her too, losing himself in her, in her belief—he admired her… She was a goddess, his goddess, his faith, his light, his beacon in the light…and he wanted to worship her… lost himself in her…

He started kissing her neck, tracing his lips over her collarbone, and each little moaning she made was like a spell that bound him on her further—and he felt like he was bounded to her—like a part of his soul etched on her—the best part of him—now forever belonged to her…

"Daryl—" she whispered out his name, and he was done.

He pulled back an inch and remembered the garage he'd seen at the back of the house, and standing up, he started pulling her up back on her feet, too. "Come." he only said, tugging at her, dragging her to the garage. Without a word, understanding him, Beth followed.

She loved it—she said she was enjoying it—this part of him—his protectiveness drove her mad—she never wanted to be left behind, even if it made Daryl crazy with worry—thinking her open to threats—He should protect her, he had to protect her, had to make sure nothing bad would ever happen to her again—he'd come so close losing her—that was what he never wanted to feel again… and he'd tried too hard to keep himself away, and when he let it go, all the protectiveness had rushed back at him, all the things he'd wanted to but thought he'd no rights…

He had every right now… She was his…and he was hers. He started kissing her again, resting her at the garage door, and found the little storage cabin just outside it, and opening it, he pushed her inside. They were alone. After weeks, they were alone again—a roof over their heads like she had wanted—and Daryl knew she was right—they couldn't stay there—in that comfort zone—they should do it—grow—and he wanted to do it…do it with Beth. He could only do it with Beth.

It was awful—the houses, the cleanness, the people… they were all awful… and at the end he would only fuck it up again… but…he could try, for Beth.

# # #

Amanda sat in front of the camera and looked the old woman sitting across her, keeping her face neutral, free of any emotion. She'd already decided not to play. Rick had said she didn't have to do it now, and well, looking at her like this, giving her a kiss like that—Amanda…had no option but try it, even though she still had no clue whatever that was she was exactly trying.

She was hoping she would find out along the way…like Rick and she did… They did find out, she supposed. They…they looked like a couple now. They hadn't talked about it openly of course, but it felt like it, even though she was all too aware of the ring he still kept wearing. That thing worried her as much as his pseudo relationship with Michonne, and there was also Carl, she guessed Rick had to tell him if it wasn't just sex, too, and she knew he hadn't done that yet. So she really didn't know.

Maybe they just needed time. The moment in the car was nice, too nice, but this place was making everyone on pin and needles, and Amanda was very familiar with that feeling. The leader of their current residence gave her a smile, kind and warm, welcoming… "Hello officer," she greeted Amanda.

Amanda shook her head. "No. I'm not a cop anymore," she corrected the woman, and waved at the t-shirt she still wore with the ADP insignia decorated over her chest, "It's just something I wear now."

"So you stopped being a cop?" the woman, Deanne, asked.

Amanda shrugged, "I wasn't a good one anyways."

Deanne looked at her. "That's bad. I need a cop, and I was hoping you could help me with that."

Amanda raised her hands to her each side and gave the woman a little smile back, "Sorry. I'm trying…something else."

"Hmm…may I ask what?"

She shrugged off, "I'm not sure of yet." She paused, "I'm trying to find out."

Deanne nodded. "So… Amanda, what do you think of this place?"

"It looks…good," she said, but didn't add it looked so good it made her sick. She at least could feel a bit relieved none of them were getting blinded by this seemingly free generosity. Everyone was wary, but Amanda had always known Rick's family wasn't bloody idiots. Idiots couldn't survive what they had suffered.

"Do you trust us?"

Rolling her eyes, Amanda gave the old woman such a look the woman only laughed in response. "You're not the trusting type, I get it." She paused, "Rick thinks we shouldn't take strangers in, instead protect what we have."

"Rick's usually always right," Amanda said simply, "you'll see."

"You know him well?" the woman asked curiously.

"Know him better than you," she shot back, and leaned down toward the older woman, "Can I give you an advice, Deanne? Something might save you from some trouble?" The woman nodded, "Do whatever he says. Not only he knows how this world works, knows it better than I've ever known anyone does, but he's also a good, honest man, someone you would want your side, if you're lucky. Don't go behind his back, don't test him, don't try to use him," she said, "He won't let you."

"Do you think I'll try to use him?" Deanne asked, "Use you?"

Amanda shrugged, "I don't know. I'm just giving you an advice, that's all."

The woman gave her back a searching look. "Does it come from personal experience?"

Amanda laughed, "You're smart, I'll give to you that." She rested on her back, sighing out, "Do you think yourself safe behind these walls, don't you?" she asked, "The monsters are out there but they wouldn't touch you."

Deanne nodded. "Our walls are strong."

Amanda laughed bitterly. "My walls were strong too," she said in response, "and they weren't like these simple metal planks, either. They were hard concrete, steel and iron, and do you know how it slipped off my hand like they were made of butter?" Deanne shook her head, "Someone died. Not of an attack, not of a fight, not of a wound, not of an infection. Someone simply died in his bed, and turned. Then all hell broke loose." She looked at the old woman, and continued, "Not far from here, there is a little town called Shirewilt Estate. They had walls too. Then the wolves came, and they'd brought the hell along. They butchered everyone inside, down to the little babies, burning down the houses. I saw the corpses, mutilated, half burned, half rotted." She leaned down, her face twisting with a cold fury, "So you think yourself safe—" Amanda gave her a look again, shaking her head, "—think again."

Deanne nodded at her. "I need an aide," the woman told her then, "And you just seem to be what I was looking for," she continued as Amanda resting back, holding her eyes at hers, "So if you don't want to be cop, perhaps you'd consider being my aide?"

For a moment or so, Amanda halted. Being her right hand meant being inside, but it also meant getting involved, and she felt that Rick sort of wanted her to stay out of it, too—and all in frankness, she didn't want to get involved, either. If she went down that path, she wouldn't stop, she knew herself. She was ready to give her help to Rick whenever he asked for it, and she'd like a gun for herself, too, to protect herself if it was come to that, but… no more plotting mutinies or murders for her. She had Rick now, even though she didn't know what they were exactly, she had him. She was safe with him, she and everybody she cared…her girls, Beth, Daryl. They were all safe with him.

"No, I hate politics," she said, refusing, "And I told you…I'm trying something different." She stopped and looked at the woman. "Let me be open here. If necessary, I can go to supply runs, I can take watches and when the time comes, I'll protect the walls and the community from any attack, but that's it," she said in earnest, "Don't ask me anything further."

Deanne gave her a look. "I understand," she said slowly, "So what do you want to do then?"

Amanda thought about it…what she really wanted to do? She'd been thinking on it since Rick had told her she could do whatever she wanted, but she still didn't know. Most of her life she just did what she needed to do, but things she wanted to do… she just didn't stop and think before. She looked at the outside, trying to decide, then saw outside the Deanne's office's window the house across—a blonde woman was at the porch, with children around her—and in her hands, there was a tray, full with cookies. Once, in one of the good homes, one of her foster parents used to make cookies, and she used to like it so much, feeling happy and full like she'd never felt… and in some dark, long nights, she used to dream about those moments when everything was so bleak, then she'd forgotten…

Now Amanda remembered. "I…" she said, returning to Deanne, "I want to make cookies."

A small smile tugged at her lips, Amanda walked back to the house, wondering if Rick and his little ones loved cookies.

# # #

Hot water felt like a miracle. Rick stood under the jet, his hands placed on the wall, his head bowed… Because it's all about survival now. At any cost. His words turned in his mind while he stood there under the jet, reminding himself he would do what must be done, then they got to live, but Amanda was right on that part, it never ended. It would only end when they died now.

Michonne had said it wasn't a living, they'd been out a way too long, and she had been right, too.

He had to find a comprise, a common ground between the two, it was like two different worlds were clashing together, and it was a struggle each of them had to fight for, but it was Rick's decision at the end, it was always his, his responsibility. He needed to keep his family safe. He didn't have big ambitions, only that.

And the children were playing… Judith and Carl deserved this. He was going to give them this… chance. He let the dirt and blood and remains of the wildness washed off of his body, twirling between his feet—his nails long and dirty like an animal…and a part of him was an animal too, doing whatever it took to survive, but that was the way of the things were now. He stepped out of the shower and looked at the mirror, almost couldn't recognize the face that was looking at him back. It wasn't only the bushy bread and hair that was curling against his neck too—no, it was the lines that were etched around his eyes and lips with frowns and grimaces and that sternness inside his eyes—like a gemstone turning into a stone—he was turning into a stone.

He took the scissors he'd found inside the cabinet, and started shortening his beard for razor. He wanted to see his face—his real face—the man he had been before all this had started. Then his eyes caught at the ring at his finger—the scissor halting for a second. For a second, he remembered Amanda, the way she smiled at him in the car and he wondered if it was the time now because it disturbed him, the notion of trying it out with her while still wearing his ring was disturbing but somehow he still couldn't take it off. He started cutting his beard again.

Just before he finished shaving, he heard the doorbell. He was alone in the house, the rest of them were still looking around—and Amanda had gone to see Deanne after Daryl had returned, so one of them must have come back now. Rick looked at the dirty stained brown shirt he'd discarded at the floor, but couldn't bring himself to put it back again on his clean body. He'd wear the pants but the t-shirt must be cleaned first.

He walked to the door naked chested. He opened it but instead of one of them coming back as he'd thought, a blonde woman was standing at the threshold, holding a basket of supplies in her arms.

"Hi. I'm Jessie. I work for the pantry." She gave him a smile, introducing herself, "Deanne asked me to give you supplies," she explained, extending him the basket.

Nodding, Rick took it. "Thank you." Then he remembered his state of cloth, "We—we were cleaning up."

The woman nodded. "Yeah, I can see. There's still shaving cream at your chin," she said, pointed at his chin with a smile. Quickly, he wiped it of with his shoulder, "I was a stylist before—I—uh—can give you a hair cut too if you want."

Well, she was very friendly, or Alexandria was really a place of friendly, helpful people. "You don't even know me," he stated, his eyes squinted.

Jessie gave him a look, smiling further, "You're Rick, aren't you?" she asked, "Your reputation precedes you, you see," the woman said, then looked at him, "I can take care of myself."

Rick thought about it for a few seconds—wondering if it was a sort of…another test, from Deanne, wondered if the woman was trying to get him open up, and a charming blonde attractive woman with a disarming smile looked like a cunning way to do it. He'd decided to play along, to see what this was about, and…well, he needed a haircut.

A few minutes later Rick was sitting in front of her in the kitchen, a towel across his shoulder after he'd put on his shirt back, his hair getting clipped off by Jessie as the woman chatted over it amiably. She had an easy-going, pleasant way of talking, but along the way as she talked, it really felt like he was getting questioned.

"We could introduce them to each other," the woman went on, clipping off his hair, talking about their children, "Of course, if it's okay with you and…" she halted.

"It's just me," he roughed out, but having a nagging that she'd already known it, too.

"Oh…I'm sorry," she mumbled out, and stayed quiet for a second.

"Electricity, showers, haircuts…" Rick said then slowly, irony wasn't lost on him, "I never thought I'd see them again."

"Come on," she said back joking, "Haircuts would never go away."

Rick didn't comment on that, but before Jessie could say anything else, Rick heard Amanda's rich tones from the door. "Well, I don't know about that," she said, staying at the threshold of the open door, looking at them, her eyes heated—glaring at the scene in front of her, and inwardly, Rick swore.

"Haircuts have always been messy things—" She walked into the kitchen with long purposeful strides as if she was walking to the walkers, "For one, I used to hate them… you know, you say an inch and the stylist just cuts half of your hair," she hissed, then added for an extra measure, seething through her teeth, "Fucking really hating it." She sat down on a seat across him, turning her eyes at him, "Trying something new, are we?" she asked, her glaring eyes fixed at his beardless face but she wasn't talking about his look, he knew.

After that the woman set down the scissors on the table. "I—I'd come to bring supplies from the pantry," she explained.

Amanda smiled at her with the most mocking smile he'd ever seen over her face. "And stayed for the haircuts," she bit off, "How friendly of you."

"Amanda," Rick got in between, uttering her name pointedly, "This's Jessie."

Amanda sniffed out in answer, looking at Jessie as Rick took the towel off his shoulders, looking at her, but Amanda didn't move her eyes from the other woman.

"I—I should go," Jessie said, nodding, "If you need a haircut—"

Amanda cut her off, "I'll ask Rick," she said curtly, and it felt she was marking her territory bluntly. Rick couldn't decide how it felt—part one of him wanted to throw her on the table and had her just over there—the other part—well, he was just getting tired. Amanda was a jealous woman, he got that. She didn't like sharing, and it was fine, Rick hated sharing too, what he'd gone through with Lori and Shane still hurt whenever he let himself to think of it, but this was getting weary, and he really didn't time for this.

Getting Amanda's point, Jessie nodded, "Well, then, welcome to Alexandria," the woman said, turning to leave.

Rick then turned to Amanda. "Was that really necessary?" he asked, exasperated.

"Necessary?" she hissed out, leaning down over the table, "You were flirting with her!"

He gave her a look, "She was cutting my hair."

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed.

"Amanda."

"I know the fucking flirting when I see it," she snapped, "But if you don't, I'd just go and teach you what it's, so then you'd watch and learn."

Anger boiled inside him at her threat, and he stood up. "I don't have time for this," he said tersely and started walking out. He would've tried to explain—would've told her that he'd just wanted to see what that was—played along, but he was tired, and wired, this place was making it even worse. He didn't need another fight with her.

"Yeah, I see you're very busy with getting haircuts—" she bit off at his back, "Is this how it's gonna be Rick?" she asked from behind.

He turned on his heels. Well, she'd asked for it. Fight, then. "I can ask the same, Amanda," he shot back, "Are you going to lose it at every woman who dared to speak with me?"

"Dared to speak with you?" she shook her head, breathing out, "You know, I keep telling myself that it's only me, my fears of losing what we've got here, but maybe…it's my feelings that blinds me to see what's in front of me."

Her face turned sterner at the words even though she'd admitted she was afraid of losing what they had— but what she'd implied angered him just further. Why she just couldn't trust him... Didn't he deserve it after everything? "And what do you think it's in front of you, Amanda?" he asked, his voice curt and sharp.

She jumped off the stool and walked to him. "What's in front of me?" she repeated, shaking her head again, "First it's Michonne, lapping up around on your every word, and now this Jessie comes, giving you haircuts and there's me giving you the bird and the bees, and you wander around with the ring of your dead wife on your finger all the while…" She started laughing, "Is this a fucking harem?" and asked, giving him a look of contempt, "Do you plan to put us on rotation or are you going to have us all at once?"

He took a step further on him, their chest touching at each other now, "Is this really what you think of me, Amanda?" he asked coldly, "If it's, then, perhaps we really should stop doing this."

"You tell me, Rick," she told him back, "Just at the same day we had a fight because of a woman we both know there's something else going, I found another one flirting with you. Do you honestly expect me turn aside and pretend nothing's happening?"

"I'm not with them," Rick said in answer.

She shook her head, but said stubbornly, "You're not away from them, either."

"Amanda," Rick said then, "If this's gonna work, you gotta learn to trust me. If you don't—this won't work."

She gave him a look. "Then maybe we really ought to stop this…" she remarked, her eyes staring at him openly in a challenge. He grimaced at word ought to… her tone pushing it toward him, daring him…his back tensed, and felt just like he was being damn tested again…with a break up. "Obviously we can't even pass a day without constantly fighting each other… " she said, "I don't have time for this, either."

He nodded stiffly. He was getting so tired of this… tired of accusations, tests…threats… "Fine," he bit off, "Then we stop."

Without waiting for her replay, he walked out. She'd already said too much.

# # #

For a second or so, as she looked at his retreating back, Amanda thought she was going to pass out. Her legs trembled and world started becoming of a blur, her head was feeling dizzy—had he just walked out on her—? Even before they'd actually started, it finished…before she could even say a word.

Yes, she'd started it but she was talking, just talking dammit! She might've pushed a bit with ought to, but what she'd said—they were true! She also might've exaggerated a bit with the harem comment, and with rotation…and with the group sex… but in the heart of it, what she'd said was true. It was never ending—it felt like the women were lined up to coming at him, and she was getting bored with shooing away the flies. And he was still wearing his damn ring!

But she hadn't wanted to finish it! Goddammit… It'd just escalated quickly. And how quickly he'd just accepted it? Had he just said fine, then we stop, like it was nothing. Like what they had meant only that much. Just fine.

Anger was finding her…but with it, tears was coming too. He'd taken the quick exit, she realized… just like she'd expected… hadn't he said he didn't have time for this first? Perhaps he was just going to Michonne or…this Jessie—god, maybe she'd just put it into his mind too… She shook her head to clear off the tears, but she couldn't stop them… they started coming down. She dropped down along the island in the kitchen, and started crying.

She knew she look pitiful, but she just fucking cared. She just wanted to cry—she just couldn't do it anymore. She'd thought…she'd wanted…she'd believed… God, she was going to make cookies for him! She was going to surprise him! She even thought of asking Beth or Carol's help, she had no idea who to cook it herself—she'd never done any cooking before all in her life aside heating up microwave… but she'd wanted to do it for him—because—she fucking loved him!

And he'd just washed his hands off of her like that!

Okay, then. It was just fine.

She started standing up, wiping her cheeks off. This was better. She really didn't have time for this. Sooner or later, they were going to break up, so it was perhaps better this way when things were fairly new. Possibly he'd felt the same too, and did a preemptive strike. They had two houses now, and she could…easily retreat and regroup—hell, if she played her cards well, she could get her own house too. There were still many houses empty in the town. If she had her own place, then she wouldn't need to see his face every fucking minute for the rest of her life.

God, how she was going to look at him now?

Would they try to be friends?

No fucking way! She needed to stay the fuck away. She needed another place… That meant she needed a plan.

And that meant she needed to…get on to work again.

She let out a sigh…so much for hoping making cookies.

She left the house and started walking back to Deanne's.

She knocked the door hard and waited until Deanne opened it. The older woman looked at her. "Your offer," Amanda said without much of a greeting, she was done with niceties, "It's still open?"

Deanne gave her a look, and said back, "I've asked to Maggie after you refused."

"And?" Amanda simply asked back.

Deanne weighted her down for a second, but Amanda already knew the answer. "I'm sure we can find her something else."

Amanda nodded, and started walking back to the doors. There was something else she needed to do, too.

# # #

Beth looked at scissors she still kept inside her sleeve, and sighed out. "You done this before?" Daryl asked, and Beth shrugged.

"Not really—" she answered, and shrugged, "But couldn't be that hard, right, huh?" she asked.

Daryl grunted in answer, and Beth decided to get over it. She started cutting his hair. It was time for him to get a haircut, as well. When Beth had seen Rick, she understood Daryl needed it, as well, get back to…the modern times—the gruff beard and long hair were all nice and good, but Beth had missed the spiky short haired man she had first seen at the farm, too.

More than anything, though, it was a start.

She couldn't be sure of what, Rick still looked like he could kill with his look, and the set of his jaw without the beard camouflaging it was a sight much more intimidating—but still it was a start.

She slowly cropped the dark locks, starting from his neckline. Daryl was in silence, and Beth didn't want to push her luck further—it was a miracle itself that he'd said okay to this—but they really needed to start coming out of their comfort zone, and the appearances seemed to Beth like a good where to start.

A couple of minutes later, she saw Amanda coming up from the main entrance. She was nowhere to be seen after she had gone to Deanne's office and it looked like she'd been coming from outside. "Amanda, where were you?" Beth asked, and seeing them seated at the steps of the porch, Daryl between her legs, Amanda stopped dead, her eyes fixed at them.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked in a whisper.

Beth smiled shyly, shaking her scissors. "Haircuts," Beth explained, "Didn't you see Rick's new look?" she asked jokingly, "He's become…handsome again."

Daryl grunted out, but Amanda's face turned to ash. "Hey, are you okay?" Beth asked.

"Just peachy," she grated out. Then Beth knew they had another fight. "Did she give you a job?" Amanda asked.

Beth nodded. "I'll work with the infirmary with Rosita," she said, starting cutting again, bowing her head.

She pursed her lips. "That's a waste of good resources," Amanda said, frowning. "We don't have that much use of nurses.' She paused for a second, "I'll talk to Deanne."

Her hand stopped, as Daryl shot at her a look. "What?" Beth asked, getting a bit afraid of the answer.

"I've become Deanne's aide," Amanda explained.

Beth frowned, cutting the hair behind Daryl's ear, "I thought she asked Maggie that…"

Amanda shrugged, "She'd asked me first, I'd refused, but then accepted."

Beth lifted her head up, "Why?"

Amanda shrugged, "Had a chance of heart."

She started walking inside the house. "Amanda," Beth asked from her back, "Is everything okay? You had a fight with Rick or something?"

Amanda shook her head, and said before she vanished through the door, "No. We broke up."

Twisting aside, Beth looked at her back then returned to look at Daryl.

# # #

They were all inside the house as he'd decided to pass the night, together and huddled on the floor. Even Daryl had come inside this time, to sit with them, finally leaving the porch, and he'd a new haircut too, his long dark hair cropped short, it was a messy thing, Beth wasn't a stylist, but the rough look suited Daryl much better than any stylists definite cuts.

Suddenly Rick wished he hadn't said the woman okay, then maybe things wouldn't have turned like this and right now, Amanda could have sat beside him, not at the farthest corner of the room away from him like she'd been doing since they had all come back inside.

Rick wanted to go and pull her up, and shook her until she had come to her senses…this was stupid, he—they didn't have time for this. Maybe he shouldn't have left her like that. She'd lost her shit again, her fears got the best of her but she was so damn infuriating, and he was so damn frustrated and weary, and he'd been leaving, didn't wanted to get into another fight with her, but she just couldn't let it. She needed to learn not to carry every single conversation into a damn fight, that was what she'd been doing constantly and they really didn't have time for this. In a single conservation, he got accused of being a cheater, threatened with other men then tested with a break up.

If they were really going to do this, she needed to learn to cool down.

He shot her an annoyed look, thinking going to her, but stayed where he was. Tomorrow morning. It'd been a long day today, and he was tired. He'd wait until tomorrow. Then in the morning…perhaps, he would take off his ring and go to her. Even when she'd been out of her mind with accusations, she'd been right at one point. He already knew it. He was still wearing his ring. It wasn't fair to her, it was even disturbing him, and he really should put the past back and be with her. He wanted to be with her… He wanted her to be with him. Her place wasn't that far corner but was beside him like in the car.

Yes, tomorrow morning. He would take the ring off then find her. They would have a talk then, make things clear and fine...

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He stood up then as Glenn opened the door beside it. Deanna walked into and stopped at her tracks seeing them all seated on the floor of the big hall. "Oh, you're all here…" she said, with something very akin to awe, and turned to him, "You've all gathered them here," the old woman told him.

Rick gave off a half shrug, "You didn't say we couldn't stay together."

"No—of course not," the woman said, "It's just—" She shook her head, and looked at them again, "This's why you should be here Rick," she continued, "why we need you here. You've managed to bring together all these people from different paths of life together as a family, and you're keeping them together," she said, nodding, and Rick felt—well, he didn't know what he felt exactly, that was what he had been trying to do since the beginning—keeping his family together and safe—and it was good to hear the words from a stranger, as well, though, he felt the same uneasiness too—something just was feeling off—all this friendliness…friendly calls, food, haircuts… Perhaps he'd just stayed out really too much. Rick couldn't be sure anymore.

Carl had told him the place, Alexandria was going to make them weak, and Rick knew his boy wasn't the only one. Daryl was having the same intuition, even with Beth's influence, and Carol was like how she was always, wary and protective, and the gun he'd hid with Amanda was still out in the woods. If it came to the worst, Rick was prepared. At the morning, before he was going to find Amanda, he was going to take it back.

"This is what I want from you, Rick, too," the woman continued as Rick turned his attention back to her, "I want you to keep us together—safe. Is it what you're what you're, right? I want you to be our constable, Rick—" the woman said then finally, "You and Michonne." She turned to the older woman, "Will you say yes?"

Michonne nodded, as Rick caught Amanda's look with the corner of her eyes—like it was telling him she already knew this.

Deanne was looking at him, wordlessly Rick nodded. He'd started expecting something like this, too, and he had his own plans, too. This place…this place needed to learn how to survive, how to endure. It had to adapt to their new world. Deanne smiled, "Tomorrow night we'll have a party for you."

Turning to her, Rick stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "A party?"

"A homecoming party," Deanne corrected, "To…uh welcome you…back to the civilization." It took all of his reserves not to bark out a laugh, instead he simply curtly nodded again, giving a glance at his people, seeing them as startled and wary as he was…

Deanne's eyes wandered around the room then, as well, as if in searching, then she found Amanda at the farthest corner, "I expect you at seven o'clock in the morning," she told Amanda, "We've got much to discuss."

Rick's lips flattened as he grimaced. Amanda nodded. "Why?" he roughed out.

"Oh, don't you know?" Deanne asked, turning to him, "Amanda is my new aide. She didn't want to be your partner," she told him jokingly with a small smile, "But accept being mine."

Rick turned aside and glared at her. The damn woman! The damn woman!

He'd told her to stay out! He'd told her she didn't need to do this now. What the hell she'd been thinking? Just because they had a fight, he would have cast her away—let her be on her own—that was how much she really trusted him? And she'd refused being his partner but accepted Deanne's offer. She preferred to be with the woman, than being with him?

The notion disturbed him—worse than watching her with Abraham after she'd put the damn thought in his mind, he felt…affronted…hurt. First her accusations, now this came.

As Deanne left, Rick went outside the porch to cool his head off.

It was never ending with her… He realized he might never end as well, her lack of trust and fears and fierce nature would always stand between them. He let out a sigh. He wanted to help her. He wanted to be there for her, wanted to protect, keep her safe…most of all, he wanted to…love her, he realized, even the thought of her sitting away from him was unacceptable, but he didn't know how to keep her quills soothed down.

Carol and Daryl found him at the porch, too, a couple of minutes later. Rick turned aside to welcome them. "Even when you're wrong, you're right—" Carol said slowly, "This place—this place might get us weak. We need to do something."

Rick nodded. "No," he said, turning back and stared ahead, "I don't think there's anything left in us to get weak," He shook his head, "People adapt to the places but sometimes places adapt to the people, too." He then turned and looked at them, "If this place wouldn't adapt to us, then we take it, and adapt it."

If it came to that, he was taking it. There was no going back from it.