A/N:

Hello, thanks for clicking my new story, the continuation of Adaptation. Adaptation took place between S05E02 and Season 6's mid finale, and this's the rest of the Season 6. If you're a new reader, I suggest to read the other story first, to understand better. Basically, this is a romance and adventure story, based on Rick, following loosely the canon. For example, they will meet with Negan at some point in the story, too, but it won't be how it happened at the show. Besides, we have Beth alive-and married with Daryl (Adaptation had started as a Beth and Daryl story-later it turned to something else) so things have changed. I have no Morgan here, and Dwight and Cherry came to Alexandria at the end because of Beth. It's all mentioned in the narrative, so, no worries.

The pairing of the story is Rick and Amanda Shepherd from the Grady Hospital, and in Adaptation they got married-so Rick is a married man again. Amanda isn't an original character, a very minor character from the canon, but because I built all of her background myself, basing her around a little bit interaction she got at Coda with Rick, I decided to rank her as OC at the tags. I think it works better for the audience that would want to read a Rick/OC story.

So enjoy! (I'm starting with a bang!)

I.

Entwined, their bodies were like a tangled ball of yarn as they talked to each other with a language spoken in sweat, skin and need.

With his each thrust, Amanda came closer to the edge, literally and figuratively, her body gliding toward the edge of the bed an inch and an inch with the force of his momentum, her back arching to meet up with his pace as her hands clawed at his upper arms for support, gnawing at his shoulder to muffle her guttural moans as she rode on her climax together with him.

As they neared to the edge further, she let herself more to him, her head titling back, her moans starting echoing in the room louder. Rick bowed and kissed her lips to silence her… Sex was always natural with them, an effortless rhythm, but always intimate—a dance of two on love, desire, and passion, the world shrinking inside them, creating a bubble consisting only two of them—outside the monsters were still there but here they were safe—together—at their home—His family—his wife…in his arms—where she belonged… He'd put it back together—He'd kept his promise…

Rick thrust in her wilder and raising herself back, her hands found his shoulders again to hold on him—because she needed him—begging him with her body even though she stayed silent—low broken screams falling out of her despite her best efforts to keep quiet, her lips trailing over his skin…writhing between his arms. Pulling her closer, Rick quickened his pace—his blood running high and hot, something in his stomach coiling as she started constricted, cramped around him inside—so tight—so wet—then she froze—her whole body constringed, clinging on him like her life depending on it, and she bit him as he stopped breathing, the bubble froze in a moment too—then it shattered.

Trembling, she slumped back at the bed, her head slightly falling over the edge, and Rick followed her, on top of her. They lay there motionlessly, trying to catch their breaths as the world sat back on its axis after the bubble exploded, her legs and arms still loosely wrapped around him. Amanda liked them stay like that after sex, tangled on sweaty skin, his weight crushing on her. She never let him go—so each night they stayed like that…until his hand reached out and found the pillow.

So, Rick waited until his breath evened out, then rolled off her and reached out to find his pillow. Wordlessly, he took it and nudged at her side lightly. Staring at above, still breathing laboriously in silence, Amanda titled her hips back and let him put it under her ass.

She stayed like that for ten minutes, since the first time they'd tried to get her pregnant again, since Denise had cleared her off for the intercourse again—almost two months now—she stayed with a pillow tucked under her ass, waiting as he threw his arm across her stomach loosely, watching her as she stared at the ceiling.

When he counted ten minutes inside, Rick took it back and threw it up backward and taking her in his arms, he moved them up back at the pillows, settling her back against his chest as they lay on their side—his arm across her torso, his leg slightly over hers. They snuggled each other as Rick took the blankets, and threw them over their naked bodies. The weather was getting colder—and the heating systems weren't working but Rick didn't mind; he liked sleeping like this—warm with body temperature—keeping her warm, safe and secure…

Keeping his family warm, safe and secure… They were safe now, he told himself—they were safe—behind the walls in their home—safe and together, like he'd always wanted. He'd put it back together. He'd kept his promise. They were at the living part now, just like Amanda had wanted—needed—It wasn't just surviving anymore. They were building a better world. Together. All of them. For Carl, for Judith, for…their not yet conceived baby. He wasn't only good for killing... He closed his eyes, breathing out deeply, and almost went to sleep just before from the next room, Judith started crying.

Amanda jolted back from the bed—alarmed, her winded down state vaporizing at Judith's cries and, quickly grabbing her robe from the floor, she ran out of the room for the next door before Rick could even open his mouth.

# # #

"I got one rule," Rick told the crowd, much like he'd told Deanne Monroe before, and it felt somewhat ironic now repeating that same words sitting in her hall—living in her house, in the house, but that was always the way of the things were, even before the turn; one fell and another stepped in, "We don't bury killers inside these walls."

That part hadn't changed yet, not as long as he lived, "If you kill someone, if you hurt someone, if you cause this community into jeopardy, you die," he continued, "It's that simple."

Much to his enjoyment, almost every head in the room nodded, almost everyone lived in the town. They all had suffered the consequences, Rick didn't need to remind them anymore what they were up against with, perhaps that had been the only good thing their ordeal with walkers and Wolves had gained them. Alexandria had learned how it was being outside, they'd learned with blood, sweat, and tears, fighting for their home. All their pain was going to be worth something.

A better world.

And it was the heart of their new world—something that would always bind them together—drew who they were—what they were—what they were going to be, and what not.

A constitution.

You can't build civilization without a constitution, Deanne had said, and Rick finally agreed. They needed something—something they could always look up—something that would be above them—law. A man simply couldn't do that.

Sometimes Rick felt he had to be more than a man—but he couldn't be, he'd learned it, too—if he put himself in the heart of it, if he made himself the law—the word—then he was going to be the only thing he'd been trying not to be. A tyrant.

Next to his left side, sitting at the couch, Father Gabriel hadn't nodded, but instead had started shaking his head, "If you cause this community into a jeopardy willingly," he corrected, "We must consider the unwilling part," he continued, and the priests' eyes found him, "Sometimes we all make stupid mistakes."

What if we make a mistake? You kill us, too? Rick recalled the teenage boy asking him, now dead. He shook his head, "We don't have the luxury of being stupid anymore. If we're stupid, we're dead."

At his words, everyone in the room tensed, he could see it from the clenched jaws and narrowed eyes, but it was also a simple truth they had to accept. He didn't want to be this…matter of fact, but that was the way of the things now, too. When one of them slipped, all of them paid for the mistake.

Twenty-three people—they'd lost twenty-three people in the attacks, a quarter of Alexandria's populace, killed brutally or ripped apart, eaten alive—and one of them had been Reg Monroe, the man Rick needed the most.

Walls… His eyes briefly skipped outside the windows, the heaps of stones, amassed like small hills outside the wall. They'd managed to bring back stones from the empty quarry. It'd taken more than he'd assumed arranging the logistics and work in the quarry, digging and cutting, but the fuel tank Daryl and Beth had found had come very handy.

But their job hadn't finished yet. No. This was only the beginning.

Life had been…busy at Alexandria since Rick had stood under the colored panel at the church almost two months ago now, giving a speech at Deanne's eulogy, making another promise.

A better world.

There was so much things to do, and so little time.

There was always so little time.

Making a constitution was always a must, but they'd other priorities first. The pantry was still half empty—more than half now as finding supplies became harder and harder each passing day as the time neared to the winter. The weather was getting colder, a hard fact that they all felt deep into their bones now. Even inside the houses they'd started sitting with their jackets, and Rick had changed to his fur collared thick jacket a month ago. During the attacks, half of the solar panels had been destroyed by Molotov cocktails, and they hadn't been still able to repair them, so heating systems were offline. The energy was going to be another problem. Soon, they were going to pool in the houses, cutting the expenses, they were scattered around in too many houses now, living separately, but he wasn't sure how the townspeople might feel about that. Maybe they could find more supplies or something to repair the panels closer to the capital, up in the north, where Daryl and Beth had found Patty and their first and the last recruits, or maybe that colony Dwight's wife had mentioned but Rick wouldn't really know. Because he wasn't taking any chances.

Not any-fucking-more.

But he was trying—following Deanne's footsteps, studying her plans—discussing them with Amanda and with others—discussing how they could manage to put up the walls he wanted, managed to create the soil for farming, and that mill—that damn mill! One day they were going to have to go out and find that Smithsonian Museum Reg had mentioned before. They needed books more than anytime now—they needed to draw plans and mechanics, but there was still time for that, they weren't still ready. Abraham and Rosita were still trying put the rest of Alexandria into the shape before they formed a sort of Militia before they started venturing out. He couldn't take any chances. Not anymore.

Not when he knew there was a community out there up in the north with a much larger numbers than them, having battle hardened fighters and guns. No way.

"We're thinking sentimental," Amanda's placid voice cut in the sudden silence inside the room, interrupting his musings as well, "Law is technical, it's about reason and sense, not sentiment. A friend of mine once said, if you punish a rapist and a killer at the same way, all you're gonna have is dead raped girls." She let out a sigh and turned to him, "They're right. There has to be a difference between a stupid mistake and a willing act."

Rick scowled, "And who's gonna decide what's what?" he asked back.

"We're gonna set up a jury," she announced, turning her eyes back to the audience in the room, "their cases will be heard by it, then it's gonna be decided what's what," she explained further, "Deanne said we can't be the jury, the judge, and the executioner at the same time—and she was right."

"We both will be in it," Rick said in return as his wife nodded back.

"Of course." Her eyes wandered around them again, and she smiled, "I'm sure no one would argue against that."

All of them stayed in silence. "So…what happens after then?" Rick then asked, "What will we do if we decide it was just a stupid mistake." He looked at them, "You know we can't send people out there to exile."

Again, silence was his answer. Inwardly, he nodded at himself. He wished it could've been other ways—but this was the real world. He was putting it back together, he was, but the world they lived couldn't tolerate any mistakes, stupid or not.

"We build a prison," Amanda answered again, "Keep them—alive—and hear them after a while on parole too—I don't know—we need to consider it more thoroughly, but we could do it, can keep a few people…barely alive if they decide to play the hard ball—" She paused, "But—if we see we can't—our resources starts dwindling for some reason or another and it becomes them versus us—then we vote for the death penalty."

Rick nodded again, and Amanda stood up, "All right then, I think that's enough for today," she said, "We can talk about the details later. I assume we don't need everyone here anymore?" she asked, looking at them, giving them searching looks, and Rick wasn't surprised to see that most of the people just nodded too.

Most of the people just wanted to live, simply live—not being responsible who deserved to live, and who didn't, but they had to decide it now—they had to. Rick really wished for the times they hadn't needed to, either, but those days were long gone now.

But they were trying… He was trying. He was putting it back together. He'd put it back together. His family—his eyes found Amanda again as others left the room, and they were alone once again in their own hall. In their home.

He was keeping his promise. They were getting to the living part. Together. All of them.

And soon they were going to have another baby—they were working on it—each night.

She had her period the last month. Rick had been afraid for another—breakdown when she saw herself bleeding again right in the bed, but the doctor had said it was a good sign, assuring her if she could menstruate on time, things might be good with her. That might part was still bothering her, Rick knew, but Amanda hadn't said anything. Denise had offered then giving her Atarax again, telling her it would relax her, but Amanda only gave her a look, not dignifying it with an answer, asked instead if tucking a pillow under her hips after the intercourse might help her chances with the pregnancy. Rick had been insisting on it, but Amanda had started having other opinions, he knew… In return Denise gave her such a look for a moment Rick had just wanted to break something, "Wouldn't hurt your chances," the doctor had only said back.

Even then each night she let him tuck the pillow under her ass. Sometimes he felt the rage and guilt so stark—he really wanted to break something. It wasn't his fault, but it was his responsibility, she was his wife—and he'd failed her—couldn't protect her…

"Rick—" she called out on him at the other side of the spacious hall, rolling her eyes, "Don't scowl this much," she said, "You'll get wrinkles."

Rick let out a low grunt. She walked to him as he turned to the window and watched the streets—the home they were building—together. She stopped next to him. "It went well," she told him, "They didn't oppose much—" She paused, "You didn't oppose much."

He made another huff out of his nose then tilted his head down to look at her, "That friend of yours?" Rick asked back, "Was it him?"

Startled, she looked up at him, "What?"

"The friend you were quoting—was he a lawyer?"

She smiled, catching up with him, and let out a laugh, a very satisfied, pleased laugh and twisting aside, she wrapped her arms around his neck, "Rick Grimes, are you jealous of my possibly dead now once boyfriend?"

He gave her a look. "I thought you weren't dating—"

"You know what I mean—"

"I know—" he said, and paused, and admitted, "I didn't like it."

She laughed more, "Now you know how I feel…"

He let out another grunt. She laughed even harder in return, and slipping out of his arms, he stepped back at his side again, and rested her head on his shoulder, watching the streets outside.

"Judith—" she then started, "She's getting…edgy."

"Maybe we could give her Atarax…" Rick muttered.

Turning aside, Amanda fixed at him a look. "I'm being serious, Rick. She's too young," she said, "We should wait a bit longer."

Rick shook his head. "Amanda, we talked about it before." They'd already had this discussion—many times. After they'd gotten their own house, Rick had wanted Judith to stop sleeping with them in the same room. It was about the time. The baby girl needed to learn to be safely away from her parents, or else she could want to sleep with them always. He'd made that mistake with Carl before with Lori, had kept his son sleeping with them more than they should've then separating their room had been like hell.

They also needed to have some privacy, a husband and wife needed their own time—time for share and enjoy each other's company. Judith was having it hard. She'd gotten too much accustomed being with them—especially after the prison fell, and they'd been at the road most of the times until they had found Alexandria. Or more reasons why she had to be in her own room, but Rick hadn't expected Amanda having it this hard, as well. Each night, she slept on pins and needles, jolting up from the bed as soon as she heard her crying—sometimes even hearing things—leaving the bed for a couple of times in the night to check her out—most of the times waking the baby in the meanwhile, then brought her back to the bed.

Rick understood—it was hard for her—losing their baby, and what had happened afterward, how much she'd sacrificed to keep Judith and Carl safe—but she had to cool down. If she kept like this, Judith was going to sleep with them until she was…like ten.

"She's almost twelve months now, Amanda," Rick continued, taking a step further toward her, "You know we have to start now."

But Amanda shook her head back at him, "Every child is different. Judith's been through too much. She needs us, needs to feel safe."

"She's safe," he said automatically. They were all safe here, he was keeping them safe. His family was safe in their home. "We can't keep her with us always. She has to learn to how to be alone and we need to have a bit privacy, too—"

"What?" she exclaimed out, cutting him off, her eyes widening, "You're sending my baby away because you want to fuck me better?!" she spat at him, her widened eyes now furious, "Are you kidding me?"

"Amanda," his voice raised too, "don't be ridiculous. And stop twisting my words." Why, why she still had to twist his words, taking them in the ways he didn't meant to. How many fucking times they'd had this fight now?

"I'm not twisting your words—" she hissed, "You just told me we needed to have a bit privacy. What do you plan to do with your privacy, Rick?" she asked, rising her eyebrow, "Want us to discuss politics?"

"Wives and husbands are supposed to do other things than just having sex—" he snapped her back, "Talk—share things—"

"Oh, come on," she exclaimed out again, "You hate talking."

He shook his head, "You're impossible—"

She glared at him further, "You want to have a talk, share things—then have a talk with Carl. He's started sleeping with Enid. So, you'd better go and make sure he knows about the birds and the bees before you find yourself with a grandchild—"

"What?!"

"Yeah—go find condoms before they do something stupid," she shot back before she walked away.

# # #

Grumbling under her breath, Amanda went to Judith's room. Her baby was sleeping when the meeting had started, but soon she must get up, Judith had taken it after his rather annoying father, she never slept much, so Amanda wasn't surprised to see her standing up in the cot—holding the railings.

Alone.

She frowned. Carl was supposed to have the baby monitor, looking after her—but Enid had come before the meeting had started…

Amanda let out a sigh. Rick really needed to have that talk with them. Amanda had gotten suspicious of them a week ago after seeing Enid leaving his room, her hair wild, her clothes disarrayed—having that look over her face... Amanda got it at the first sight, and had hid behind the corner not to embarrass them. She had no idea how old Enid was, but Carl was almost fifteen now— and if Rick didn't want to be a grandfather before he ever became a father again, they really needed to have that talk.

She momentarily thought how it would've been being a step grandmother before she could be ever a mother, too—but chased the thought away. She was already a mother. She supposed she was going to be more like a mother figure to Carl, a friend and a stepmother, but she was going to be the only mother Judith had ever known. Judith was her baby—much like how she was Rick's—genes and semantics could be damned all she cared.

She just wanted to be a mother again wanted to feel that, having a piece of Rick growing inside her—create that beautiful thing with him—them together—a family.

Seeing her, Judith raised her arms too, calling for her mommy, and Amanda smiled, her insides swooning like each time Judith reached out for her, wanting her to take in her arms—her baby wanted her to keep safe... Amanda bent down and cuddled up her in her arms. "Hey there…" She smiled at her baby, "Wanna mommy, huh? Good girl…"

Judith grabbed her hair and yanked it off— Amanda laughed out. "Ah—having a temper, eh?" she told her back, pulling her head backward, "I know. I'm having it myself, either, honey…" she talked to the baby, "Just had a fight with daddy. He's driving me crazy—but don't worry, I'm handling it." She smiled, "But don't forget—you're going to say mamma first before dadda, 'kay?" she continued taking her out of the room, "Just like we talked…"

She walked out in the hall and placed the baby beside the couch, then standing up, she looked around as Judith tried to get up at her feet, holding on the edge of the couch.

As Judith had started walking along the couch, holding on it, Amanda realized they needed some redecorating.

Deanne's house—their house- was a death trap for a twelve-month baby whose world had just gotten a hell of larger, full of furniture with sharp edges. Walking babies were the worst—you could never let them even a moment out of your sight—they were also at the most curious stage—throwing everything they found in their mouths—and Judith was still cutting teeth so she had itches… just yesterday Amanda had caught her throwing in her mouth a bolt Carl had left around—and almost had a heart attack.

Okay, maybe she was getting a bit—worked up. At first, she was all like "as long as there's life, there's also hope" state, but after the first rush of her good feelings dampened, her usual feel of unsafety had returned—scenarios, what ifs running through her mind—and she fucking hated it—that feeling—like always—the confines of her comfort zone had exploded so spectacularly, her insecurities were all over the place. She'd been trying to find her balance again—but well—Rick wasn't helping.

She brought the baby up and decided to find Beth. She knew she'd just started a fight with Rick, but dammit, she wanted her baby with her! Yes, they had to separate the rooms at the some point, but Amanda had been hoping that time could wait a bit longer—they'd been so happy together—okay, there had been a few unfortunate times Judith had chosen to cry—like at the morning of their wedding night, but so Judith had to go away? How could she let her baby be alone in a room—where they were never safe… They were safe, in their homes they were safe—but…bad things happened all the time. What if—what if the last night it'd been a walker or something—Rick had the same fears too, she knew it, he was even having it worse—so why—how she could leave her baby there alone?

Rick knew how it felt not being safe—but he didn't know how a child would feel not feeling it. He thought he knew it, but he didn't. He'd grown up with a loving family—with caring parents—had never had to force himself to sleep, trembling with fear, with uncertainty, waiting something bad happen—sometimes so much that you found yourself wishing it actually happened just so you could be free of it. She could die before she let Judith feel like that!

She put on their winter jackets—first Judith, then her own—a black quilted jacket she'd found in Deanne's wardrobe, and they'd found one a very similar one for Judith too, and left the house. She had to see Beth—had to talk with her.

She found the younger woman in front of the infirmary—smiling at her as she saw Amanda approaching, Judith in her arms. "Hey—just saw Rick—his face souring milk. What happened?"

She let out a sigh, "Had a fight."

Beth smiled, "I figured out that much." Beth took a step forward and took the Judith from her—her ring on her finger flashing at the dim sunlight. Daryl had given Beth a large diamond ring, she had no idea how the man had managed to find it—but Amanda had learned not to ask such kind of question about Daryl Dixon.

He always found what he needed.

Beth put Judith down and watched her as the baby girl started wobble along the railings. Her eyes lifted at Amanda, "She's going to walk all by herself soon!" she exclaimed with delight.

"I know—we need to redecorate the house."

Beth nodded. Perhaps they also—redecorate the house with people too. Just four of them had been good—but perhaps if others had been around, it would've been better—and Amanda could not actually believe she'd thought of it—wanting a crowd around herself—she fucking hated crowds, not having any privacy—her personal getting comprised. It'd been so hard at the church—she almost trembled remembering those days—even worse in the wild—and look at her now—wanting more people around her.

She was losing her mind—she was definitely losing it.

"Aaron wants to look for people again," Beth talked a few seconds later, "Still want us to go out with him, too. I was going to talk about it this morning, but I thought it'd be better if we talked it privately. Then I saw Rick—" Shaking her shoulders, she faltered.

Bending down as Judith swaggered at her feet, she held the baby before she dropped on her ass at the floor, "Recruiting's still dangerous—" she told Beth back, "We still need to wait. I want to go north to the Museum but he even doesn't want that."

North—North had that sanctuary Dwight and Cherry had talked about. A week after the battle they had fought against the walker, Rick had left with Daryl, taking Dwight too, making a recon—and when he'd come back—he'd told them they stayed the fuck away from the north.

Amanda had conceded… they should stop looking for trouble—and she had a nagging suspicion sooner or later the trouble was going to find them too—it was also the way of the things too—there was always something worse out there—always. Just like she'd told Rick before, and just like she'd told him before they were all going to be glad to Rick being the man who he was when they found that worse.

But Amanda wasn't still looking for it.

Nope.

"So…" Beth said, drawling out, "What happened?"

Hoisting Judith up, Amanda sighed and sat down at the steps. "Judith."

Then Beth understood, "He's right, you know," her friend said, "Judith has to have her own place now. She wants it too."

Well, yeah, there was that too. The getting separated from her parents was hard for every baby, but Judith had been worse—even worse than her before, and got… settled down after they'd arrived Alexandria—she remembered herself joking at Rick, telling him she was smart girl, knew where she could get a bit of privacy…

Good lord! She was an idiot!

Everyone needed their privacy, their own personal space, even babies—then why the mere thought of it made something inside her stomach twisted—? She hated any space between them, always wanted to be wrapped around each other, his weight crushing her, or their arms and legs tangled—sleeping or fucking—it didn't matter, she just wanted to be close to him—closer… She wanted all of them be close—inches apart—a big, fucking, happy family!

She shook her head— she was losing it. She needed to get a grip on herself. "Okay—here's the thing," Amanda started marking the facts, "Rick wants me to stop bring her back to the bed, wants me to stop going to her each time she cries—"

"Amanda, she cries because she knows you will come to her as soon as she starts crying," Beth said, cutting her off, her voice trying to be soft and reasoning.

But Amanda shook her head, almost rolling her eyes. "I know. I'm not stupid. She's manipulating me. Her cries, and those wide baby blue eyes, her lips trembling…" She shook her head, looking at the baby at her lap. She was a sucker for that regard. As soon as Amanda saw her crying—those trembling lips and those wide wet blue eyes glistening with tears, she got done. She was a sucker, yes, and she didn't fucking care. She smiled at her baby girl, and let out a sigh, "You can't never imagine how babies can be manipulative. How they test you…trying to find boundaries…" She paused, her lips pulling out, "She's being too much predictable, but well—we can deal with it later…"

Amanda could teach her baby better… and shook her head as soon as the thought appeared in her mind. No…no…no… Her baby would never need to test anything—anything. If any testing would need to be done, Amanda would do it in her stead. Judith would never need to deal with those kind of things—never. Her baby had her. Judith didn't need to do those things—not like she… Never. Just another reason why she had come back to their room—so she didn't need to test—her mother…

"Amanda, I think, you're still missing the point," Beth finally said, breaking the silence.

"What's the point, Beth?" she asked back, almost imploring, because she damn well felt like she'd lost it. "How the hell I am supposed to know if she's being just a baby or a walker just slipped through her room?" she fumed in "She can't even talk!"

Beth stared at her, "How a walker would pass into her room, Amanda?" she asked, "Your house's the safest house in the town. Rick made it sure. You know it."

She shrugged, "Shit happens. Imagine a walker slipped by—"

Beth cut her off, "How?" she demanded, "Tell me how a walker can slip into her room?"

Amanda stopped, tightening her arms around Judith, and tried to think of a scenario… Their rooms were at the second floor, so they could never come from the windows…not that they would ever climb. Rick had a bolt attached to the main door, securely closed it off each time before they went to sleep—the other doors, the back door and the garage door was welded—he'd said they would cut their own exit in case that they had to leave the house—not wanting any open egress points… The windows had grills too, he'd managed to put them up himself from the profiles in the warehouse. No. Their house was safe. It was safe, unless one of them died and turned—no walker could breach without them knowing. And she understood Beth's point—she really did—but still…

Beth sighed at her silence—and shook her head too. "Amanda—you worry for nothing."

"I just—" she said, then let out a sigh too, "I don't know… I'm just—afraid."

"I know," she said, "but you have to let it go, too."

She shrugged, "Yeah."

"Denise—" Beth then started, and her back straightened, knowing what was coming— "Perhaps—you should talk with her."

She shook her head. "I can't talk to her—" she told her friend back, "Rick and I—we're supposed to lead these people, Beth. How can we do it if I keep yammering about my—things to the town's doctor?"

"She's a doctor," Beth said, "She's got the doctor-patient confidence."

"No—it's just a liability. I talk to you because you're my friend. She's—she's one of the people I need to lead, I need to keep alive. This's too personal. We can't get that personal." She shook her head again, "It never bodes well."

It never. A time would come and they would need these people follow their orders, did what they were told—there had to be a line—a line not to cross—and if she went there and talked about these stuff—she crossed it. She'd crossed it with Beth, but Beth was her family. She was the little sister she'd never had. These people were not. It just didn't work that way.

"Then the pills?" Beth asked, "They'd relax you—" she offered, but her face closed off, her lips pursing down.

Taking meds—because she couldn't function properly at her own. No way. No fucking way. That was for quitters, and Amanda was never a quitter. Never. She was strong. She didn't need any fucking meds to keep her up. She dealt with her problems on her own. She always did. At the end, she always found a way too.

"No, I'm fine—" so she told Beth, her voice crisp, "I'm gonna deal with it—" She stood up, hoisting up Judith in her embrace, and smiled at her friend, "I always do."

A/N: This opening scene was inspired by an old French movie called Betty Blue, which is the most erotic and intense sex scene had ever filmed-and you know-you can smell trouble there just watching-I tried to get the same feeling, too-hope I managed.

This was more a setting for the story-to show the minds of my characters, and where they stand at this point of in their lives-so things might be slow for a bit for a while.

There were tons for callbacks both to Adaptation, and to the show-but I'm just too lazy to list them now-just wanted to clarify because it's important for Rick's stand of point- wanting to put it back together comes from Rick's hallucinated phone call after Lori's death.

Like always, reviews make any writer happy, I'm not an exception, either. Thank you.

Cheers.