I'm so tired now, I hope my grammar isn't worse than my usual in this chapter. If it's, please, let me know. I promise I'll proofread it tomorrow! God, I really hate doing proofreading!

XXVI.

Their eyes blindfolded, they made them walk in the woods toward their hidden campsite. The leader ordered their guns to be confiscated, too but let their hands untied, a fact Rick had decided to take as a good sign.

The woman had come, paranoid or not, but they had come. He just needed to convince her to ally with them now. He never waited a warm welcoming party approaching a new group, whether they had someone who would breach contact or not, even at Hilltop they had played safe. The women's protectiveness made sense, and Rick was also glad in a way, because it meant those women weren't really idiots. No idiot would've managed what they'd done this far.

He only wondered about Amanda, her eyes blindfolded, she would've freaked out again after her ordeal. He'd had to give up on his grip on her hand while they'd covered their eyes, but Rick knew she was still walking beside him—he could smell her scent. He didn't know how exactly had happened what had happened to her—how that sadistic bastard had tortured her—he knew what had happened—but the circumstances were filling him even with more dread. He'd spent the last night thinking ways to kill them because if he hadn't, his mind would've thought of it then—what Negan exactly had done to her…?

Had he—had he tied to her the bed—blindfolded her—and then whipped her ass…? The thought sent a gigantic wave of hatred and fury all through him again—imaging her like that—suffering, in pain—His breath stopped in his chest again—the vision under his covered her eyes almost made him stumble on his steps and drop on his knees.

No. He had to be strong for her. Finish this and take her back to home. Where she belonged.

Leaning aside, his hand waved in the air blindly, the urge to hold on her rising in him strong, he had to—he had to make sure she was right here, just beside him. His fingers touched a hand and he knew it was hers, he could even recognize the light callousness across insides of her fingers that had been caused by handling guns and weapons for years. He grasped her hand, and squeezed it, and in return Amanda did the same.

The gesture calmed him down a bit—the way she squeezed his hand back in assurance as if she wanted to give him support too—her beautiful brave wife, always a fighter, unyielding.

They'd been walking at least half an hour, but Rick knew they had to be close now. They possibly had been trying to lengthen the way to confuse them, but Rick didn't care. If necessary, he could've found the way to their compound. He didn't want it, but he could, even if he would've needed to search through these woods by inch and inch. He was going to have those guns. One way or another. But he didn't want to that, either. He wanted people to fight with those bastards, didn't want to fight with everyone. He only wanted to eliminate that threat against them, so they could return to their own life—the life Rick had promised them. A better life.

Suddenly they made them stop and a hand on his back forced him to bend down, and Rick felt the leaves brushing against his hair—then Amanda yanked off her hand away from him—and made out loud gasp— "No—No!" she almost shrieked, and Rick heard the terrified panic in her voice yet again.

The panic rose in him, too, as he realized she'd reacted because they were forcing her to bend down as well…and…and—even his covered eyes blackened out—the world slipping him away from him… That was how the bastard had done it…? The thought ran in his mind wild—imagining Amanda bending down toward the fucking sonofabitch—revealing him to herself—in her dress with G-string and stockings underneath—revealing herself to the maniac to whip her ass.

It was too much—just too much—

"Don't touch her!" his voice shouted as his hands rose to his eyes, and he pushed over his blindfolds. The women were protesting, rising their guns and spears at the same time. Rick didn't care. He didn't fucking care. No one was going to lay a finger on her ever again. Turning aside, the guns and spears still pointed at him, he grabbed her, straightening her back and uncovered her eyes as well.

He stared at her as she blinked at him unfocused, "It's okay—" he whispered, holding her arms tightly, "I'm here."

She trembled, but nodded, letting out a deep breath. His eyes moved to Natania who just stood a couple of feet away from them as they stood circled by her people, watching the scene—and Rick talked to her, "You're not blindfolding her again."

The old woman gave him a curious look, "What happened to her?" she asked back.

Rick only looked at the woman back in answer. She motioned at a short brown-haired woman around Amanda's age, then the woman walked closer to them—and pointed the wall of brushes in front of them they were standing.

Looking at it, Rick realized it was a secret hidden passage.

"Get on your knees and move to the other side—come on!"

Taking Amanda's hand back, he tossed at her a glance—as if to ask if she could do it, and in answer she slowly dropped on her knees, her hand still in his.

Rick followed her example too, and leaning down at the same, they put on their connected hands on the forage and started crawling towards the other side.

The others followed them too, he saw Beth crawling after him for the third, Daryl quickly under her heels, and Abraham and Sasha.

At the other side, the scenery had started to change too. He saw the first bungalow a couple of yards away, in a faded watery green, the old wooden sidings and doors aged, but still standing.

From their last side, he saw a small bridge over a narrow, weak creek, and beside it there was an open furnace—a fire burning it. Around it, there was a circled stone and wood sitting area. He understood it was the campsite's open fire community area.

There were other sitting areas too—and big wooden picnic tables—the campsite looked like big, having its own creek, even a playground, and with an open clear space for yoga. He knew it because the old signs in the compounds were still standing, pointing the ways inside the camp.

Around them, there were also gardens—everywhere, fields of crops, and greens, even a couple of chickens and a cock. He even saw dogs and cats. All things considered, it was a pretty much amazing sight, and Rick was fairly impressed, almost as much as he'd been surprised with Kingdom.

Then slowly, they started coming out of the cabins…all of them…women in all ages.

Even the children were holding spears in their hands, looking all fierce much like the grown-ups. Rick assumed their own struggles with Saviors and the battle against the dead had hardened them to this point, another observation he took gladly.

Natania motioned at the other short-haired woman, "Beatrice—" she ordered, "Take them inside." The younger woman pushed him at his back forward toward the biggest structure at the far corner of the campsite, a tall, wooden building with two floors where the community possible gathered together inside.

Taking Amanda's hand again, Rick started walking, as Natania also said, "Get Cyndie from the beach."

Rick wondered how was this Cyndie was, but the old woman had also wanted her to be present, Rick surmised she must've been someone important. Inside, there was a big heart too at the corner of the spacious hall and low wooden plank seats were circling against the walls, soft cushions over them. At another corner, there were some old-fashioned music instruments, she saw drums, bells, and a guitar.

It almost looked cozy, even empty, and it was warmer too, big chunks of woods burning in the heart with cracks.

Frankie and Tanya had come with their own friends, and Amber, the youngest of the women, was looking around with an open admiration. Daryl and Beth came beside them, Daryl giving a look around him. "They did all this on themselves?" the hunter asked, and in his voice, Rick also heard the same impression he'd felt.

They needed to get these women on board. Frankie and Tanya walked to them then, "I'm sorry it had to be this way," the redhead woman started, "But I'm glad you didn't make a scene."

"I understood their reluctance, but they have to listen to us," Rick said.

"Natania is an old stubborn woman, and she's already lost too much. Her husband, her son, and her grandson," she explained, "But her granddaughter, Cyndie, is still here. She's her second in command. If she supports your cause, Natania will be more inclined to listen."

Rick nodded. Natania walked in the hall then, together with a dark wavy-haired girl, looking at them suspiciously as well.

"Frankie said you're also looking for a refugee to hide," the old woman stated, her clear eyes staring at them hard.

"Yes—" Rick admitted, "My wife—she killed Negan. She can't return to our community now. They will look for her."

"They might already started looking for her—you two brought her here—" the last words were directed at Frankie and Tanya, "Not only you broke our rules, told strangers to our home, but also brought someone that's wanted by Saviors."

Frankie opened her mouth, but Amanda cut in, taking a step forward, breaking their hands, "We didn't come only for a refugee," she said back, "We're here to ask help."

"Yeah—" Natania nodded, and pointed with her head at Rick, "Revenge." She shook it then, "Revenge is good, I won't deny, but staying alive is more important now. We already lost so much."

Rick shook his head back at her. "They're going to find you. Perhaps not today, or tomorrow, but one day. You can't stay forever in hiding. You can't. You have to fight."

"We already fought once!" Natania shouted, "And lost—lost so much."

"We already fought, too, and lost—we suffered the same. That's not an excuse."

The old woman shook her head again, "No. But this—" she waved her hand around her own people, "this's an excuse!"

Rick gave her a hard look, and repeated what he'd told Deanne months ago, what he'd kept telling all Alexandria, "You don't fight, you'll die. Not today, not tomorrow, but one day."

Amanda spoke after him, too, "If you don't want to fight, why did you even come to meet with us?" she asked.

"Frankie and Tanya broke our rules," the woman answered flatly, "It's not allowed," she continued solemnly, "We need to decide what to do with you."

# # #

Once again she was under locks. Though at least her hands were free this time, and their guards seemed to be a better company. The short-hair woman, Beatrice, and another two was standing at post outside the hall, holding the door.

If they wanted to break it, they would've done it, but she was an escape attempt would've made things only worse. They were standing close to each other in the room, and Amanda let out a sigh. "You said this Cyndie would be more open to listen us. Can't we talk with her?"

Frankie shook her head. "She was already here. That was her, the black wavy hair woman, standing beside Natania. She already listened," she explained, "I might try to look for her, but they don't trust me, either. We have to wait. Cyndie will find us herself."

There was a certainty in her words that made Amanda's eyebrow arched. She shared a look with Beth, trying to gauge her reaction. Beth was the one who had convinced them, the one who had passed most of the time together in Sanctuary, but there was a wariness in her wide blue eyes as well. Amanda hoped the woman was wrong, this Cyndie would come to find them. Natania didn't look like she could be reasonable, and Rick—well, Rick was getting worked up. Until they're all dead or us… I want those guns, and I will get them. One way or another.

They both were slipping off. They needed to cool down. She recalled her own reaction when they'd forced her to bend down, almost having another break down. She'd taken rather well when they'd blindfolded her, knowing that Rick was beside her, and felt even better when somehow he had managed to find her hand and his fingers clasped hers, but when the hand at her back had tried to force her down, she'd almost it—the sheer panic jumping on her. She—she had tried not to react, keep her head cool, but at the end, she just couldn't have.

She—she was still on pins and needles, whether she got Rick beside her or not. She needed time to recuperate, Rick knew time to sit on it as well, they both needed time, and they didn't have it.

There was no time. Everything happened so fast anymore in their world, one shit piling up on another without no time to catch their breaths.

Perhaps they shouldn't have done it. It was still too early, too early to smart something like this. Rick had wanted to go back to home and take a breath off when they had learned that they were going to have twins, and even ended up her hands tied up—giving herself to him completely just like she'd dreamed, just like the damn bastard had dissected her.

Rick had even told her they needed it, that it came to him good, felt like he was keeping her safe and Amanda hadn't quite understood the words then, and she still couldn't. It was dangerous, playing with fire. She knew it. She'd accepted it because she'd trusted him, she trusted him more than anyone—anything in this world—and she'd wanted it—wanted it so desperately, but she still couldn't understand…

Did he—did he want her like this—subdued, submissive, like Negan had wanted her too. Owning her? Tanya had said the bastard had his kinks got out of it—but Rick—Rick wasn't like him… No. Rick wasn't like them. He was a good man, a sucker, but all of this…it was just too much, and they—they needed to take a breath off, perhaps talk, really talk…but scars were too raw, and still cutting so deep, and there was no time.

There was no fucking time.

They needed to do this, finish this, before everything turned worse.

She fucking hated it! Was it really too much to ask for a reasonable normal life in this shithole fucked-up world? The doctor—then she remembered again—the thought cutting her like a red flash.

That man—if he hadn't done what he'd done—if he'd come to them, perhaps she should've been at her home now, laying with Rick in the morning, fooling around, his hand on her bulging stomach, trying to get a downtime before Judith would wake up—Rick waking her, his other hand creeping between her legs inside her pajamas like he usually did.

And how she had missed it! That was Rick too, the same man who had tied her hands and fucked her brains out, the very man who woke up like this, sometimes even tickling her playfully, she remembered how he'd called her his big, fretting, peevish baby, and she wanted both, both sides of him—she wanted all of him.

She just wanted him.

Her eyes found him again, and a myriad of emotions, emotions she couldn't handle anymore wash over her again, and without knowing what else do, she let the waves ride over her, and waited until they passed.

True to Frankie's words, Cyndie came to find them half of an hour later, and Amanda felt a bit better. The young woman's gaze seized them heavily, weighing up and down but when she started speaking it was first directed to Frankie and Tanya, "We thought you dead—" the woman said, then walking toward them she—hugged them.

They all shared glances with each other seeing the women hugging each other, and Amanda felt relief stronger.

"Cyndie," Frankie started then, "You have to talk with your grandma," the redhead continued heated, "We can do this. Amanda here—" They waved her hand at her, "killed Negan," she said, and the black wavy-haired eyes turned to her too, and she nodded.

"I heard you're asking for refugee."

"I can't go back at home right now."

The woman nodded back. "She won't send you away—just because of that, because you killed him, but others—" she stopped. Her eyes narrowed, she moved towards them, "Others?"

The black-haired woman stayed in silence. Rick walked beside her, too, "We came here to talk you. If we wanted, we could've come and taken your guns. We didn't want that. We want you to fight with us."

"We already lost too much," the woman said back.

"That's not an excuse," Rick countered, "That's never an excuse. You're thinking you're safe here, hidden, but that's not true too. The world is still out there, and even though you kill us, you can't stay forever hidden. They will come for you one day."

For that, he was right too. Maybe not today, not tomorrow but one day. And that one day in their life was becoming shorter and shorter each passing day.

"He's right. It's inevitable," Beth said, taking a step further, "We escaped together with Frankie. If she didn't accept it, we couldn't have been here. We did together. We can do this together, too."

"We can only do this together," Rick said, strong emphasis on only, recalling Glenn's words. They all had their differences, didn't even know their names truly, but if they didn't stay together, all of them was going to fall. Rick had seen it before, and talked Kingdom into this, so he just had to do it again now. "Look, we already have two other communities fighting with us, that fought beside us. We didn't have the numbers before, but we got the surprise effect, but someone betrayed us, and we lost," he explained more to the woman who looked like she was willing to hear as Amanda's face soured once again thinking of the doctor, "But we won't make the same mistake again. With your numbers, we should even the odds, and we'd find more guns too."

"We also have the intel—" he continued, "We were trying to three outpost at one, but Amanda learned there're seven outposts out there—" he turned to Frankie and other former wives, "You lived there more than a year. Do you know where they are?"

Amanda nodded at herself. The woman knew, Amanda was sure of it. The redhead wasn't an idiot. Negan had gotten a thing for talking, slipping off things while doing it, and a woman like Frankie certainly would've gathered the pieces.

"Mostly," the redhead admitted, too, "And I know which of them has got better arsenal too."

Satisfied with the news, Rick nodded, "This's the best time. Negan's death must leave a power vacuum behind before Simon would take the control back. If we start hitting their outposts, we'll rattle their cages, too."

Amanda remembered her first plan too. That had been what she had initially planned too when she had told Rick she should've stayed and gathered intelligence, and hit them, so they could've divided their power. That plan still should work, and would gain then a bit of time, as well.

Besides, it also should even out the numbers for real. "Rick's right. I was only there for two days but I know it was simmering underneath. People weren't happy. I don't think they would be happy with Simon, either. Perhaps even for worse." She turned to Frankie, "There must be a lot of people that hate Simon. People who would hate to see him taking the reins."

There must be. There always was. Even Grady was a mess of people digging at each other's back, and Sanctuary, she didn't even want to think all the power plays that surely were going in that place.

They just had to play smart now. Rick kept saying killing all Saviors, but—they needed inside help. Sanctuary was still strong, even with Oceanside, they might still too strong for them.

"Divide and conquer," Amanda told them, "Before we conquer them, we have to divide them," she explained, "Their numbers are still too much for us." Rick's face hardened at her words, but he was still listening to her, "Who hates Simon the most? Who would rather choose to deal with us instead of being under his command?"

There had to be someone. There always was someone. They'd found her, Beth giving them intel, they'd gotten her as inner help, and they'd avoided a bloodshed, taking down together. She was sort of ripping off Beth's plan now, but it was a good plan, and it'd worked before, and divide and conquer was the most used strategy all in history. She hadn't spent hours studying Sun Tzu for nothing.

They had to do this. They had to, then perhaps they could even make…peace with Sanctuary, and live. They—they couldn't kill three hundred and fifty-so people…wouldn't make a…genocide. There was already too much blood on their hands, she didn't want her damn conscience taint with that, either. No. Her quarrel was with Negan, with Simon, with all of those people who could make a change but hadn't. But if—if someone might want to try—Amanda would force herself to accept it.

She would hate it, yes, but then again, she could live with it better than the alternative.

Only she didn't know how Rick thought of that. There will be no mercy…

Well, all things considered, she wasn't talking about mercy, she was talking about…being practical.

She just wanted this…war end, and go back to her, resolve whatever that was her damn…struggles insides…resolve that thing inside her—that thing that made her want two opposites each time…one part wanting him treating her like a queen—taking care of her like she was the most precious thing in the world, while the other—well, the other part of her just wanted him to fuck her like she was a bitch in heat.

And it was so fucking frustrating!

"Laura—" Frankie said then, breaking over her thoughts, "She wasn't even happy how things were with Negan, but she hates Simon." She paused, "She's got her own outpost, too. A chemical plant. And I heard there's a rather large arsenal at her disposal, too."

Amanda nodded, "Then that's the first thing we have to do—" she said, turning to Rick, too, "We need to get this woman."

In return, Rick gave a long, long look in silence.

# # #

After Cyndie left them alone in the hall, informing them she was going to talk to their grandma, they all gathered back again. "Are we gon' do this?" Daryl asked, "Talk to this woman?"

Before Rick could say anything, Amanda beat it to her, "We have to. We need someone inside. We can't do this alone."

Rick shook his head, "No. It's too dangerous. There's no guarantee she won't betray us," he opposed, "We won't make the same mistake again." And he was going to. They weren't going to get sold out again. Hearing her voice over the radio calling at him was enough for him for a lifetime.

But Amanda was still not hearing him, "Rick," she started, "They still have the numbers. Even with Oceanside. We need something else to tip off the balance. We also lost the element of surprise too," she continued, and it all sounded very logical too, except that only Rick couldn't trust, couldn't trust anyone from that place. Frankie and others were different. They'd escaped with Beth and Amanda on their own, had chosen to act, and now they had no other option, too. They couldn't go back.

Anyone else wouldn't have these necessities, would betray them easily. "No. It's too risky."

"Of course, it's risky," Amanda said, "Look, you came asking my help at Grady," she reminded him. But it was different then. They—they hadn't so much to lose then, he—hadn't had so much to lose then. He hadn't had her. Not like this. His eyes glanced at her slight bulging stomach.

He shook his head, "This's different, Amanda," he said, "We do this, for good. We finish them for good."

The others were all looking at him, but staying out of it, were only watching them, as if they understood it was a decision, they knew was going to made up by them. The council wasn't here, they couldn't vote, but Rick didn't care. The council had come broken when Rick had tried to break Spencer's jaw. And this was still a security concern, something he could never bet on.

But Amanda shook her head again, "We already tried to finish it that way, and it didn't work—" she pressed on further, "Maybe we should change our direction approach and try something different."

Rick's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"

"Sanctuary is there, Rick," she told her, "It's our reality. It's also too big to fall. If we destroy it that would make three hundred and more people going out in the woods in despair, unless you plan a mass murder—" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

In answer, Rick only stared at her. "People who would have nothing to lose, looking a place for themselves. We'd have a real immigrant problem. Neither we nor our allies have the capacity to look after that much people, Rick. But if we let them off, despair would turn them into Wolves too. They have to stay at Sanctuary. Sanctuary still needs to stand," She paused, "We just—need to change its—management, someone who could be more reasonable."

Rick was still staring at her in disbelief. "Are you fucking serious?!" he shouted, "After what they did you?!"

"After what Negan did to me!" she shouted back, "And I killed him for that!" She let out a breath, "My quarrel is with Simon and all those people who support them, and all of those sonofbitches looked at me in that way, laughing, and only with them." She let out another breath, "For the rest, I just want to make peace."

"Peace?" Rick sputtered out, "Amanda—they're enemy!"

She threw her arms in the air, "And you can only make peace with enemy!" she almost shouted back.

At that moment, Natania returned with Cyndie and the other short haired woman, and their discussion interrupted. The woman gave them a look, "My people want me to hear you—want to fight. I think it's a mistake, but I'll listen to their wish," she announced slowly, as if words made her strangle in her throat, her blue eyes still on them, "But tomorrow morning we'll go to your home, too. You know ours, and we want to know yours, too."

His jaw clenched, not liking it, but he knew he couldn't deny her now. "Okay. I'll take you there the next morning."

"And they can stay here—" the woman continued, "We'll given them asylum."

He nodded. That was what they'd asked, a place where Beth and Amanda stayed hidden, but suddenly he felt like she was taken from him again… Mentally, he shook his head.

No. This was only temporary. And Rick would stay with her as long as possible. Tomorrow he would go back to Alexandria—today Simon should've already made an appearance. He needed to check back on home, as well. Check on Carl and Judith.

Rick wondered if the old woman would question them further on the plan, but she didn't, she left them saying they were going to prepare them cabins to pass the night, and then they will talk later.

Then she left.

When they were left alone, Rick looked at them, Amanda looking almost preparing herself for another talk with her, but before anyone said something, Beth did, "We—we should go and take a breath off. It was a long day for anyone. And I—I want to see the beach. We can talk later too."

Rick wandered his eyes on them, and saw Amanda also nodding, "I want to see the sea, too. It's been years since I heard sound of waves."

They—they needed to take talk—finish this—prepare… but—sitting on a beach with Amanda—

The image was so powerful, he found himself nodding. He wanted her there, sitting across over his lap at the beachside, her head on his chest—listening to the waves, playing with her hair as she did those sounds—close to purrs—at the back of her throat, getting calm down between in his arm—and he wanted to do to her much more than that—wanted to lay over the sand and have her—their eyes stuck at each other—Amanda begging at him silently with her body and eyes…

She couldn't have had her, not when she was hurt, but he at least could have her in his arms at the shore.

but Amanda shook her head. There had to be something else. They still couldn't win like this. Sanctuary still got more numbers, and—and Simon was a wild card even worse than Negan. Everything was telling her the same. There had been disturbance there, even Negan had admitted, accepted her offer.

After they showed them their bungalow, Rick took the blanket over the bed, and took her hand too with his other arm, and walked them out.

They found the beach after a ten or so minutes walk, the sounds of the waves slowly reaching to them as they approached. She tried to an attempt for a talk while walking, but Rick stopped, seizing her hand, telling her, "The sun's setting. I want to watch it."

The sun was setting, and Rick only wanted to watch the sunset with her now at the beach. They might never get another chance again. He didn't want to lose it. Their world so rarely gave them such opportunities.

At the beach, Amanda smiled big seeing the sea, and started running to the shore, laughing. They were nowhere else, Beth and Daryl should've found themselves another secluded corner much like Abraham and Sasha, and smiling at her, Rick walked to the shore, too, and started laying the blanket over the dry sand just above the shore, and walked toward her.

She was splashing water with the tip of her boots over the edge of the gentle waves, still laughing, "I can't believe this!" she exclaimed as Rick grew closer and kicked another wave at his direction.

Chilly water hit at him, and he shook his head at her, "Be careful, we just got your fever drop." She'd taken her pill before they'd left for the beach, and she pouted at him playfully, and made another splash, "Spoilsport."

Rick gave her a look, "Woman, don't make me come there and soak you until your panties."

"Pff—" she shot back, "My panties are already soaked, Rick," she said, shrugging, and stopped understanding what she'd just uttered.

She looked at him with an expression he couldn't quite read—she looked embarrassed and flushed, as if she didn't know how to feel, so Rick walked to her without a word, and brought her to the blanket. Kneeling between her feet, he took off her boots, his head lifted up, looking at her while doing it, their eyes grew heated—and Rick—wanted… Mentally, he shook his head. They couldn't—She—she…her injuries. No.

He stood up, and kicked off his own boots and taking her hand, he stepped on the blanket and sat down in the middle, and tugged at her hand. "Come over here—" he said, pulling her down to make her lay over his lap again.

Without a protest, she lay down on her side, her head over his lap. His hand went over at her stomach then, playing with her small bump as his other hand started playing with hair as they watched the sunset in silence.

The air was getting colder, but they were getting warmer inside their jackets and in each other's embraces, Amanda started making those noises more, long languorous breaths pulling out of her, with content, satisfied, as his hands kept caressing her hair and her stomach.

"It's so beautiful—" she whispered, as the setting sun covered the horizon in a mystical purple and orange, a world full of wonders, beautiful.

They still lived in a beautiful world, Rick realized, despite all the filth, malice, and brutality, they still lived in a beautiful world. "I'm tired, Rick—I'm so tired of fighting," she whispered out as Rick bowed his head, and as her head twisted aside, her eyes found him upward, "I want it end, Rick. I wanna go home. Please. Promise me—" she demanded, her voice still a whisper, "Peace. Promise me peace, baby."

Peace.

His eyes moved up from her at the sunset, the beautiful mirage, then back at her, and whispered at her, bowing his head, "Peace—We'll have it, Amanda. I promise."

One way or another. They would have it.

# # #

It was a miracle, such a miracle, like the night they'd watched snowfall at the porch in the embrace and felt the same again—the wonder—and the peace—and she wanted it…she so fucking much wanted it.

And Rick promised her it, then she knew she was going to have it—one way or another.

She trusted him. She trusted no one but him.

# # #

He was behind her, she felt in her sleep, her back lightly touching at his chest, his arms wrapped around her—one arm under her neck—crooked over her chest, coiled under her armpit—his palm across her breast, his grip tight as if to make sure no one could take her away.

And it felt safe…so safe—she wanted it get tightened around her, tighter and tighter, almost choke her—she wanted it—something was clawing in her insides—that nameless thing—a wild beast—wanting—wanting—her eyes fluttered—and she whimpered—in sleep—she knew she was still sleeping, but she knew she was also awake—just going over the between the waking world and deep dark lands of sleep—barely conscious, but that thing was still in her…clawing, scratching, demanding…

And his other hand was at her lower abdomen, just under her bulging stomach, protectively, keeping their babies safe—and Amanda wanted it even lower—in her core—where everything was clawing at her—throbbing…

She heard her own whimpers—and her hips moved—and his hand moved down—but not yet—not yet…she wanted it closer—closer—burning—she was burning inside…everything was aflame… She shook her hips and his hand crawled closer on instinct and found where it belonged.

She let out a deep satisfied moan as if something in her finally clicked—covered—filling…something empty—there is an emptiness in you feel nothing can fill, the words faintly echoed in her brain, but she didn't listen to it…

She had Rick… Her hips started moving—she couldn't help it—she wanted it, wanted him deeper—where he belonged—her ass—her ass started burning too with motions but she didn't care either, she was burning at everywhere, she could barely registered it… the only thing she cared was that—his hand—it had to—it had to…

She crossed her legs and squeezed her thighs—moving herself—grinding at his hand over her dress—she wanted it… God, she wanted it…she tossed her back at his chest, moving more desperate, angling herself. She had to feel it—she had to—it was killing her…she leaned forward, her hand clutching at the arm coiled around her neck and chest, and she felt it—the tight squeeze down on herself.

She groaned loudly at the feel, grinding at his hand even more demented, as her eyes fluttered open, and she saw Rick—staring at her wildly, his hand still tightly fisted around her pussy.

Fully awake now, realizing what the hell she'd been doing in her sleep, she stared at him, frozen, hot, bothered, and ashamed—being caught like a real bitch in heat, trying to get herself off on his hand while sleeping.

God, could she get more…pathetic?

Then his hand slipped under her dress, and he ran his palm across her, over her wetness, "But you're soaked, aren't you, my little minx—" he breathed in her arm, and as his other arm tightened over her neck, she trembled, "Do it," he told her, his voice having that characteristic timber again, demanding, "Go on. Do it."

Her whole body trembled, "Do it, Amanda, come at my hand."

She shuddered again, and on her own accord, her hand crept over his to put it inside her, but he shook his head, their eyes still glued at each other, her head tossed back at his chest. His right hand moving up between her legs, he brought her hand over her chest and secured it under his other arm coiled around her chest. He took then her other hand at her side, and held it with his left hand, so she once again was trapped as his right hand crept back between her legs and slipped under her dress.

Then he stopped, "Do it," he ordered at her again, and Amanda started moving even without thinking.

# # #

She was…she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, grinding over his hand frantically, desperate to reach her climax as Rick just kept his hand over her folds and watched her as she squirmed, holding her trapped at her upper body, watching her over her shoulder as she moved herself frenzied, moaning, groaning, whimpering—now with frustration, as she couldn't get herself finish, tossing her head helplessly, then broken words started pouring out of her between moans and groans, "Rick—please—please—" she started begging, and his insides roared again hearing her begging to him—that powerful feeling—being in power washed him… He—felt powerful, be able like each time—seeing her like this, seeing her giving herself to him, believing in him—trusting him. Always trusting him. Her belief—her belief was like a breathing, living thing coursing through him, giving him power—a man who could do anything to protect his family…

His head bowing, he bit her shoulder, and started giving her what she needed, desperately begging, only to him. Only to him.

She was only his. No one could make her feel like this, could make her like this. No one but only him.

They were inches apart now downside, her ass lightly pressed over his bulging hardness, and reaching further, Rick squeezed his hand over her again under her dress, and pressed his palm over her pelvis as she kept grinding at him—and the sole motion was enough, as if it was what she'd been desperately needing—and she started coming—shuddering violently, arching over his hold over her body, her juices soaking his hand up to his wrist.

Then as he breathed out laboriously, his own pants tightening, throbbing—a beast in him wanting to throw her back and fuck her brains out, she settled down back in his arms again, heaving out deeply, spent, like her pent up energy finally drained, her body still having post orgasm shivers.

In silence, both couldn't even able to talk, they stayed still in their embrace. It was a struggle not to close that inch between them and pressed himself on her little ass that was sticking up at him and finish himself off too. He'd been careful not to touch her ass as she had moved over his hand frantic, but now his penis was throbbing achingly, his stomach tied into knots, and he needed to reveal himself, too but he couldn't just move—didn't want to let her go. She was safe here. He could keep her safe like this, no one could take her away from him.

Her eyes raised at his after a few seconds, when her breathing became less laborious, and she tried to twirl on her other side to face with him, but Rick tightened his arm in response. "No…" he rasped out, "Stay."

"You—" she whispered out, her voice so low, "You—we need…"

"No…stay—" he said. She couldn't go anywhere. "You stay where you belong."

Her breath hitched hearing his words, and she ceased her movements, and settled back against him again. His soaked hand crept up over her stomach again, and found her small bump—their babies—his babies growing in her… She relaxed more between his arms, feeling his hand over her stomach, like she always did, and Rick bowed his head again over her shoulder and kissed the spot he'd just bitten.

She shivered again slightly, but stayed where she belonged, her hands still trapped, one clasped between his, the other stuck under his arm. And they stayed like this without another word.

When she spoke the next, Rick hadn't still let her go, and she hadn't made another attempt again, but only called out at him softly, "Rick—you said before it comes to you good—" she told him, her voice so low Rick barely could hear it, "Told me you think we both need it," she clarified further, and she didn't need to, he already had understood what she had been asking.

"I told you I feel like I'm keeping you safe—" he rasped out, telling her the truth. Because it was the truth. Like this—she was safe. Nothing would take her again.

"You told me you're enjoying it, too—" she said back in a whisper.

"And I am—" he answered with a sigh, but they still didn't make a move to pull away from each other, "And you, too."

She nodded in silent acceptance. Then a breath later, asked, "You enjoy me being like this?" she asked then, "Helpless, at your mercy…begging?" she asked, "Feel like you owning me?"

He let out another sigh, shaking his head, "No one—no one could own you, Amanda. The last man who tried it got his throat ripped off. No. I don't want to own you, baby. In fact, I quite like you like this, like—like a staggering tornado, wild and feral—" he said, trying to get her understand him, because he didn't want to own her—no… never. "Do you remember what I told you the first time I tied you up after the party?" he asked, finally uncoiling his grip on her, letting her go.

She slowly twirled on her other side and faced with him. Their eyes found each other then, too, before she answered, "You told me it's about trust, trusting someone enough to be vulnerable."

"Yes," he said back too, rising his hand gently touched at her cheek, "When you give yourself to me like this, accept it—accept being vulnerable, I know you do it because you trust me, Amanda. I know you could never let anyone get you like this—no one. You're only my baby. You can only be like this with me, because you trust me," he repeated, and exhaled a breath, "And it makes—me—feel powerful, Amanda, being capable of—feel unique—like—like I'm kind of a superman or something—" he told her with a sheepish smile, shaking his head, "I know it's not very mature, but I feel it. Like I can do anything, like I can keep you safe, like I can keep all of you safe—not a failure—"

She cut off his words, her eyes were moist, staring at him with love, affection, trust and everything else, "You're never a failure, Rick."

He closed his eyes, "It's hard, Amanda—" he confessed then, because it was, and he opened his eyes, "This world—this world is harsh, and I'm trying—trying my best, but I'm just a man."

Her arms wrapped around him then, and she snugged at his chest, "And you're doing great, Rick—" she told him fiercely, "You're doing great."

Even though Rick couldn't believe it, he could always believe her. Always.

# # #

The next morning before they left for Alexandria again, she kissed him on the lips outside their cabin, smiling at him with love, affection, trust and everything else, and Rick smiled back at her faintly, touching at her cheek lightly and swore to himself he was going to give her everything she ever wanted, everything she needed.

Peace.

He was going to give her peace.


Hurray, a big applause, please, as I finally got Rick cracking up why he wants Amanda like this... And I also made them watch the sunset at the beach, another applause, please :) We also got the "peace" part, too, and I managed it without killing anyone. Again. Another applause :)

I feel like Oceanside plot is slipping away from me, but I admit I'm just not all that interest with it right at the moment, but have to do it for the continuity sake. Heh. So if it feels somewhat off, sorry.

I still try to keep enough erotic, not downright pornographic, but Amanda and Rick hardly ever listen to me, so things get a bit more heated. I'd marked this story as T, but there is still no an explicit sex scene, but do you think it deserves a M now? It looks like to me it's pretty "mature" now. I don't know.

Oh, and be attentive, I think because I frequently upload chapters now, sometimes even twice in 24 hours, not my every uploads is shown at the main page. It happened with the last chapter. It stayed where it was even though I uploaded a new chapter. This had happened before, too, so I think it's because of the frequent updates.