Finally, things are picking up pace a bit :)
Enjoy.
XX.
Amanda woke up, feeling—sunlight slowly—so—so slowly creeping in the dimness of their interiors through the barred windows in the hall over into her cell, and pushed back from the bed.
Another day was starting, a new day—the last one finishing without an accident.
She smiled, walking at the small stool at the corner where she'd placed the blackboard Rick had found for her.
It wasn't anything as fancy as Beth's—it was a simple blackboard—no cute designs over it no dressings, but each morning Amanda woke up since the last week, she still smiled at it.
She took the white chalk at the edge of the board, and with her other hand rubbed off the number she'd written yesterday.
Another day passed without an accident.
She bent down and wrote down twenty-five at the blackboard.
Five days—then they were up to thirty.
Still smiling, she got dressed, and went out for her daily running.
It was going to be a good day.
# # #
Later in the morning, when she was back to her cell after her usual morning patrol with Rick, Beth gave her a suspicious look as Amanda gave a hard tug at the hammock she'd prepared from the sheets and hung up at the ceiling around metal hooks. The cloth came off sturdy, and she nodded approvingly. "That should do it—" she murmured.
But Beth was still suspicious. She gave her hammock another wary look and looked up at her from where she sat at the edge of the bunk's lower bed, "Amanda—" the younger girl asked, "Are—are you really sure this's a good idea?"
Even her voice sounded suspicious. Amanda tossed at her a mockingly chiding look. "Now Beth—it wouldn't hurt you to have a little bit of faith—" she shot back at the younger girl, and gave another tug at the sheet, "It's past three weeks now, Beth," she said, "I need to do more work-out, and this's a great way to get into shape only using your own body weight—" she explained and waved a hand at her, "Come, up. I'll show you."
Giving the hammock a look, Beth shook her head agitated, "Noooo…."
Amanda laughed, "C'mon, Bethy, listen to your instructor—" she told the girl, "You need to get into shape, too."
After her talk with Rick, Amanda had been training her, Joan, and Noah, and a couple of more people from D Block since the last week, but Beth was so skinny Amanda wasn't liking it.
Not that she'd stopped of course. Beth had bemoaned she couldn't have slept the whole night from muscle pain when they'd started their training course, and Amanda had smiled, saying that she wouldn't have done her job correct if the girl had. She'd just surprised the young girl hadn't cried. She had.
Getting into shape usually went along with "no pain, no gain" so Amanda had told that Beth, too, saying that she'd passed months crying from muscle pain. The first time Amanda had seen her and Noah holding a gun so—so—so very badly, Amanda had almost a faint, understanding that their escape from Grady had been a real miracle. Before anything else, they needed to gain some body posture and muscle strengthen.
Joan wasn't that bad—she at least held the gun as if she looked like she knew what she was doing, even though she'd been doing it all wrong, her stance wrong, her grip too tight, her arm too strained—the positioning at the bad angle, but at least the former nurse was holding the frame.
Amanda had discovered long ago most of the times fighting was actually done…as those so-called pick-up artists words by controlling the frame. Because the easiest way to win a fight was actually not to get into one.
If you managed to send off the right message, usually most of it consisted of cold, stern stares and measuring looks, looking all badass. And for that, Amanda also had discovered it was good to develop the "fake it until you make it" routine and with their harsh environments but so little time, that strategy was their best direction to start.
So, Amanda had decided first to teach them how to teach them to fake it—then the making it part was going to follow—with lots of practice.
As usual, practice made everything better—so Amanda was hoping soon her…cadets could be some real sonofbitches that sent off the right kind of message—don't fuck up with me. I might go down at the end, but I'll be taking you with me.
She wished there were only rotters out there to get worried about—but people needed more than just shooting exercises.
And it was going good—even for a week—they'd started getting into the right stance at least with the gun with relative easiness, started holding the gun as if it was an extension of themselves not just a thing they didn't know what to do with it.
So good so far.
Amanda was aware it was going to take a while—she wasn't expecting any miracles, but they were working on it—so it was all nice.
She'd also started with a class with the kids, more than anything to teach them how to move around and keep their calm during a crisis—waiting them to fight was still too much to ask—but the children who were older than ten had already started taking shooting exercises, like Carl had done before.
They usually used silencers not to make gunshots to draw more dead as Amanda had prepared the backyard where Rick and she had their…talk as their training field, but mostly shooting without bullets just to make them familiar with guns.
It wasn't still the same thing and soon they needed to go out. This—this kind of practice meant nothing; Amanda was also aware. They needed to see the real deal—feel the panic, dread—fear, must know how panic and fear freeze body, cloud judgement, make your body tremble….shooting at a safety distance when you knew you were all safe and secure behind the walls was nothing against the reality.
But there was still time for that as well.
Overall, things weren't going bad.
They hadn't had an accident for twenty-five days. Her people were getting into shape, learning how to put up a stance. The kids were listening to her how to keep their cool in the turmoil, and they hadn't seen any dead animals since the last week.
Perhaps whoever that lunatic might be…he'd gotten his shit back together.
Her wound had gone better too, she'd managed to stand a full handstand for three seconds on her own two days ago, and last night she'd dined together with all Greene family, Beth had wanted it, and she'd had a very nice time.
They'd even actually prayed before the dinner, holding hands. So…she'd done it, too, bowing her head, her one hand clasped in Beth's, the other in Maggie's, and had felt…felt like she honestly didn't know—it just felt…nice.
She—she'd wondered that night later in her cell before she went to sleep how it would've really been growing up in a family like that—having a father like Hershel Greene—growing up in a farm—and she'd pictured herself in daisy dukes with a cowboy hat and cowboy boots, a shirt tied up at her waist, and she'd giggled herself into sleep, and in her sleep, there was Rick and Judith again, and this time there were a few additions, too; there were Carl, and she. They were in a farm's house all together, having a dinner at the porch.
When she'd woken up in the middle of night, she'd heard him again, trying to hush down softly crying Judith—and Amanda just had lay down at the bed, staring at above the bed's downside above her, listened to them.
At the dawn she'd left the cell after him and ran—ran—ran—then found him for their usual morning patrol, two cops at a patrol, partners; professionals, perfectly labelled behind the safe, sterile etiquettes.
Fake it 'til make it, she'd told herself that morning, calling out at him with a simple hey like they usually greeted each other.
After all, she'd been always great at controlling any frame.
She gave another tug at her hammock and sat on it and swung back and forth for a couple of time to test it, her bare feet not touching at the floor, then turned to Beth.
"Come on—" she called at the girl again, "Look, I'm not falling or anything. If it holds me, it certainly holds you, too."
Then she twisted herself into an infinity seat, leaning backwards, and twirled her legs in two smooth quick moves. She climbed up, pulling herself up clutching the hammock's sides, and stayed suspended in the air, hammock between her inner thighs, holding her into the position.
Beth stared at her as she swung in the air aimlessly back and forth, smiling, "See?"
"How did you do it?" the girl asked back and let out a laugh.
"With a lot of practice—" she said with a shrug, still swinging in the air, "Lots of it."
She untangled herself from the hammock and called Beth again, "Up, lazyass. Don't worry, I'm gonna show you something simpler."
Beth stood up, giving her another suspicious. "Yeah—what?"
"Oh—nothing—" she said back airily, "Just gon' hang you upside down from your ankles."
"What?"
She pulled back from the hammock, "Beth, please me, trust me. You're gonna love it."
Beth sighed out, and Amanda turned and checked the curtain again to see if it was still securely closed and Beth gave her arched eyebrow this time.
"Well—better Maggie not seeing it—" she said with another shrug, giving the girl a half grin.
"Okay. I feel much better now."
"Go up—take off your boots and stand on the hammock—" she instructed, "I'm gonna hold you."
Beth did—climbed on the hammock and stayed put, holding the sides, and twisting her head aside, she looked at Amanda, "What I'm gonna do?"
"Bend your knees and try to climb up with the hammock," she instructed, "Go up as further as you can. I'm gonna push you up if you can't."
Beth started doing as she was told, and actually managed to climb up with the hammock. The girl must've been lacking muscles, but she was still agile. Amanda nodded impressed, holding her hips delicately in case she started slipping away.
"Good—very good, Beth," she complimented, "Just a bit higher. Now, widen your legs as much as you can but don't lose the sheet from the soles of your feet. It needs to stay there so you can tuck it around your ankles later."
Another side look as Beth held the hammock's sides tightly, "Yeah?" the girl breathed out laboriously, "Like this?"
"Hmm mm…" Amanda nodded back and placed the sheet under her feet just a bit better, "Widen your legs just a bit more. A'right. Very good. Stay there. Now start lowering yourself down slowly backwards like you're doing squats with your whole body—so slowly—and slide your hands down too—" She started doing the move, and Amanda warned, holding the girl as she glided in the air slowly, "Very nice. See the sheet, it's started wrapping around your ankles—" she said, as above her head, the loose part started lowering over her head, "Now hold up the loose part between your legs with one hand—"
"Oh-my-god—" she breathed out, "Oh-my-god! Gon' fall down—"
"No—" Amanda said, holding her as she completely folded in two in the air, "I'm holding you—don't worry. Just lose one hand and hold the loose sheet between your legs—then we'll let it go."
"No no—"
"Beth—lose it, dear. I'm holding you."
Then she did, let go one hand and held the loose sheet, and Amanda held the girl as her weight dropped further in the air and the sheets around her feet got tightened completely around her ankles as she turned upside down and stayed suspended in the air hanging at her ankles.
"Whooaa—" she almost screamed, letting her other hand go— "Wow!"
Amanda laughed out, "Told you you were gonna love it!"
"I mean—wow—" she said, swinging back and forth, her hair brushing the floor as her fingertips— "Ha ha…" she laughed, her eyes finding Amanda's as her head getting reddened with blood rushing, "Wow…"
Then at that second Carl walked into her cell— "Beth—! Is everything—" the young boy started, then stopped seeing Beth, "What are you doing!"
Beth laughed, swinging back and forth, pushing her hand towards him, "I'm hanging upside down, Carl…"
His eyes widened, Carl turned to her, "Can I do it, too?"
Amanda thought about it a second or so, then nodded eagerly. "All right—" she agreed, "Let's get Beth out of it first, then you try."
She twisted Beth out of the sheets and turned her up, and untangled the girl, pulling her down. Beth laughed pushing her feet out of hammock, and Amanda turned to Carl, "Take off your boots. You need to be in bare feet."
Carl nodded and took off them, and for her shock she saw very good trimmed feet—and felt for a second glad and waved at the young boy. She walked him through the act like she'd done with Beth, only more quicker as Carl was younger and a bit more—daunting than Beth, and less than in a minute, Carl was hanging upside down in the air too, swinging back and forth, with a loud, "WOW!"
"Shhs—" she hushed the boy down, "I don't want your dad bust our—"
And before she could finish, as if she'd heard him, suddenly the curtain of her cell opened and she heard his voice behind, "What's—" He stopped in the mid-sentence, then almost exclaimed, "CARL!" he called out loudly, "What the hell are ya doing?"
"Hey—dad—" the boy gave his dad a wave and grin, throwing his head back to find him, "Amanda hung me down by my feet."
She looked at the boy with widened eyes, then turned to Rick—shaking her head, waving her arm, "H-he asked for it."
With a sigh, he shook his head, and started walking away, "You know what—I don't even want to know."
As he walked away, Amanda grinned after his back.
It didn't long then the news that there was a new kind of excitement around had reached to all kids at D Block, and before she knew what was happening, she got surrounded with eight or so kids, all demanded to be get hung by their feet.
Getting crowded in the small cell, she took the sheet hammock from the hooks at the ceiling and started leading out her flock, to find a proper place outside in the field to do it in the open air.
If they should do something, they should do it properly.
She found the little tree she'd first sat down and cried underneath when Beth had fallen sick. She made a hammock swing for them at the one of the thick branches.
Then Amanda hung every kid upside down at their feet as they cried and laughed happily and she laughed with them, too, truly feeling happy—perhaps the first time after a long, long time—just playing with kids—as if…as if they were still living in a normal world, kids could still be kids, still be happy.
Her eyes drew around for a second as she lowered down one of the girls—the tallest of the girls—one of Carol's former wards, Lizzie who always had a cool and factual exterior with a bit sadness, and a quick mind—quick and sharp for a twelve years old Amanda had noticed from their class. The girl was laughing loudly now, that sadness nowhere to be found as she swung back and forth suspended in the air upside down—like how a child should be.
Amanda laughed again, happiness bursting in her insides, seeing the girl like this, then across the field, she picked up Rick at his own part of the grounds—inside his field, looking at them, and even from afar, she could sense his gaze on them—on her…
And her heart started beating fast—and before she could remind herself partners again, her lips pulled into a small smile and she saw him smiling back at her for a second before he turned back to his job.
Bowing her head, Amanda smiled further, as Lizzie shouted at her sister, "Mika!" She gave a swing in the air, "Look at me!"
Mika—the younger one was a bit less brave than her sister, so she was still waiting to gather her courage—and Amanda turned and called the younger girl, "C'mon, Mika. It's your turn now."
She turned up the bigger sister and untangled her, as Mika gave a worried look. Beth laughed beside them. "Don't worry, Mika, I was just like you, too. It's great fun."
Amanda dropped Lizzie down on the ground, releasing her ankles, "It was sooo good, Mika—" the girl said, and that placid sadness came to her again, "I wish Nick could've played with us—"
Her eyes flickered up at the girl for a second, Mika didn't say anything, and Amanda…felt sad, thinking the friend they'd possibly lost—like everyone else.
She leaned forward and gave a little brush of a kiss at the girl's head— held her hand up for Mika.
# # #
That night Rick dreamed her playing with kids in a park.
Just that—then suddenly they were under a tree, and she was under him writhing, her naked body wrapped all round him, and when Rick kissed her, he tasted grass, earth, and pancakes on her lips.
# # #
Two nights later, she woke up from her sleep in the middle of night, soft baby cries in her ears, even though there had been no dreams.
Gazing at the top's bed downside, she wondered if she'd gotten a sixth sense or something for the baby girl's cries.
And—the baby…the baby wasn't just stopping crying. Apparently, she had a temper as much as her dad. The thought made her smile in the bed, and Amanda wondered if she was just being a baby or had started cutting teeth. Judith was around seven or so months, so it was the time, too.
She debated with herself laying in the bed, an urge so strong to go to him and take the baby—the baby was just so much crying—she couldn't even sleep. It was nothing to do with him.
She just wanted to sleep.
Nothing to do with him.
Yet, partners could hardly go to each other's room in the middle of the night to put their babies into sleep—not professional a damn bit.
So, like a ghost, her feet bare, she slipped out of her cell, and went to Beth's. It was just good that Beth's cell was at the other side of hall, so Amanda slipped inside like a silent cat, and held the girl's shoulders and shook her a bit, putting her hand over her mouth.
Beth's wide blue eyes grew even wider seeing her, and Amanda pulled her hand away. "Amanda—what are you doing here?"
She shook her head, "It's Judith. She doesn't stop crying," she whispered out and watched Beth give a long look.
"Go and take her," she muttered the girl then, "I'll put her into sleep."
"Why don't you go yourself?"
"I can't—" she breathed out with a huff underneath, "It's not appropriate. It's…it's like I'm using her to…to…you know—" she trailed off, as Beth stared at her again sleepily, "Just go get her." Another look from the girl, and Amanda sighed, "She needs to go back to sleep. I can't sleep."
Then the young girl let out a small, silent laugh, and stood up from the bed, and left her cell.
A few minutes later, she came back—with Judith, still crying, in her arms.
Amanda took the baby from her, and slowly hushed her into sleep, holding her at her bosom—breathing her baby smell in—so pure, so…innocent. The baby slowly fell into the sleep—and giving her back to Beth who was still half sleeping at her feet, Amanda watched her to bring the baby back to her father, where she belonged.
She left Beth's cell after then, and went back to her own, and lay down in silence…no more baby cries, yet she stayed awake almost all night before she finally fell asleep just around the first sunlight.
Then she stood up, went to her board, and took the white chalk.
She wiped out the last number and put a seven and looked at it. Twenty-seven.
She'd had worse nights.
# # #
Two days later, they went their first run together.
Amanda looked at the board, twenty-nine, and almost asked them to wait a couple of days more, almost begged, but her tongue couldn't have said the words.
She had decided to take Joan, too, as their the most capable, rookie, and Amanda saw disappointment in Beth's eyes. "Beth," she muttered with a sigh, "don't look like that, please—" she told the younger girl in the cell before they left for the mall Daryl had scouted a week ago with Sasha.
"Why can't I come?" Beth asked back, and Amanda shook her head.
"You know. I explained," she answered, "We can't take two rookies at the same time. It's too risky, and Joan—Joan's simply better than you now." Her face pulled off, Amanda shook her head, "This's not a competition, Beth. Your time will come too. Don't be in haste."
The girl gave out a sigh, "I know," she accepted, "I—I just—I guess I'm bit a bored being at sidelines." Another sigh followed, "I—I wish I could just change. Be like you or Maggie…"
Amanda shook her head, "Change—it isn't a light switch, Beth, doesn't happen overnight. Don't be hard on yourself. And you're already changing. You look now quite kickass holding a gun." Beth snorted in answer, and Amanda could swear it was one of those changes, too, perhaps something she'd picked up from her, and Amanda felt…happy with it, somehow… "Besides, remember what you told me before about being bored?" she asked the girl with a smile.
Another sigh, "We're lucky having a chance to be bored."
Amanda nodded, "Exactly."
So, they left, Rick, her, Daryl, Glenn and Maggie, and their newest recruit, Joan.
During the whole trip, she was so tensed so felt she could snap in two in any moment, her blackboard in her mind. "Hey," Rick asked her suddenly as they arrived and about to go in, falling behind to ask her, "Ya okay?"
A little bit late to ask now… She nodded briskly, "Yeah…just having jitters—" she shrugged.
"For what?" he asked, his brown knitting together, "You must've have done this now like a million times."
She shrugged off, "Doing it with you guys the first time."
"We cleared out the warehouse together," he reminded her.
"That doesn't count. That was still my turf."
He gave her a look, "Amanda—"
She let out a sigh as they walked carefully inside the mall's parking lot, looking for any trouble, dead and alive, "I—It's twenty-nine—you know," she told him then, and twisted her head aside before she finished, "Perhaps—perhaps we just should've waited two or more days."
Stopping at the back of their cortege for a second, his hand touched at her chin so lightly, so lightly it was just a brush across her skin, and he turned her head towards him, "Amanda, you'll have thirty the next morning—I promise," he told her.
Swallowing over her throat, she nodded wordless before he picked up his pace and walked ahead of the group, taking the point.
Dutifully, falling beside Joan, Amanda followed.
# # #
At the end, Amanda understood, Rick Grimes was good to his promises.
They all returned before the dark, all counted for, and alive.
Walking back inside the perimeters, she watched Glenn and Maggie walking staggering between each other's arms, laughing and all smiles. Glenn pulled the tall woman closer, his other arm wrapped around her waist and gave a kiss at the side of her neck, and she almost heard Maggie's giggle. They—they looked happy, so happy together. Running her eyes away, Amanda quickened her pace to pass them.
At night, she brought Beth the chocolate bar she'd found in the mall. She sat the bed as the girl opened the package and threw it into her mouth. "You—you're not saving it?"
Her mouth full, Beth shook her head, "Nope. I don't do waiting anymore—" the young girl said, "Tomorrow might be too late."
She smiled at the girl, "Beth, you know—sometimes I wish I could change too—be someone else…be someone like you."
"Someone like me?" Beth asked, munching the junk food, "Really?"
"Yeah—"
"Well, I think you're already changing—" the girl said after a second, giving her a look.
Amanda held it, and mimicked her question, "Really?"
She nodded, "Yup," the girl said, bobbing her head, still munching her bar, "Besides change isn't a light switch, doesn't happen overnight. Don't be hard on yourself, Amanda."
Amanda shook her head, turning to leave the cell, "Smartass."
The next morning, she woke up and finally put the thirty on the board.
She looked at it, swallowing hard, and left for the public toilets beside the laundry room.
Inside, she looked at the tinted darkened mirror that hung at the ceramic tiles at the wall—the air cool and stark inside, having the usual bad smells of body waste and sweat and all the other stuff, and looked at her reflection.
She opened her bun, passed her fingers through her caked locks—she—she couldn't take as much showers as she'd used to do like at Grady—she saw herself getting dirty too—last night she'd gone to sleep without cleaning herself like the rest of them—
You are already changing… Beth's words echoed in her mind.
Was she?
She didn't know.
She shook her head, started gathering her hair up to twist again into a bun, then in the middle of the act, she suddenly stopped—her eyes catching her reflection again, she stopped, looking at the mirror—
And she felt the whole word stopped with her—her whole world, hanging on for a second, holding its breath—and she must've stopped breathing for a second, too—she must have— Then her eyes taking a stern glint, she let one hand go, drew out her knife, and pulling her hair aside over her shoulder, she cut it off with one swift motion.
She dropped her arms at her sides, her dirty, caked locks barely touching at her shoulders now—and looked at herself in the mirror and smiled.
Well, change didn't happen overnight, but it was a start.
Throwing away her cut off hair, she walked out.
It was going to be a good day.
Thirty days without an accident.
Her smile still on her lips, she walked in the corridors to go out to running—not thinking anything, she—she just wanted to live…in the moment, she always thought, always over analyzed, always…feared… It was going to be a good day. Sun was up. And she felt lighter—her head felt lighter…as if…as if she—she had unburdened herself from something—but she didn't want to think about it anymore…
She just wanted to go out and run…feel the wind brushing over her hair—her untied, cut off hair.
She kept walking, her eyes wandering around—and saw the kids had put a few new drawings on the walls—and she halted a little to look at them, children drawing pictures—being happy—laughing and smiling—how they were supposed to be… Then her eyes fell on the last drawing, and she stopped…death—the world turning back to way it usually was.
The usual shitload of crap.
At one of the drawings, there was a crude version of the prison and fence, and people at one side, and rotters at the other side, their faces falling, red paint coming out of the mouths, and one of those rotters was named with a red paint—big letters and such—Nick.
I wish Nick could've played with us…
Her eyes hurting, she rested her forehead against the wall beside the picture and hit her head at the wall. She was fucking—fucking hating it!
Pulling back, she tore the picture off the wall, and started looking for Rick.
# # #
"Rick!"
Bending down digging, Rick heard the familiar clear tones ringing in the air… and turned aside to look at the owner of the voice, he knew too well, a bit agitated sensing the urgency in it…then he stared.
Clad in her combat pants and white basic tee, not in sports attire she usually wore in the mornings for her workout, Amanda was running toward him down the steep—her short light brunette curls brushing across her shoulders…her hair parted toward left side of her head more floating in the air as she ran, holding something in her hand…
And his eyes struck, Rick stared at her—beautiful—so beautiful, aside that she looked utterly panicked out of her mind.
She stopped out of her breath against the fence, grabbing the wooden stacks, heaving out laboriously, as she bowed her head— "Amanda, what happened!" he asked, leaning over her against the fence, "Your hair—"
She shook her head, her loose hair swinging in the air with motion, the end of her locks brushing over her shoulders… "Forget about my hair!" she snapped, and held out her hand up in the air, showing him what she had been holding in her hand.
"What's that?"
"That's—that's y-your last problem, Rick—" she answered him, her words still breathless, "I—I found who's feeding rotters."
So, I always wanted to make Amanda cutting her hair, you know-it's just such a classic (not to mention cliche) way to have a change for yourself (I used to cut or dye my hair every time I broke up with a boy, lol) and her bun meant a lot for Amanda, so this happened-at the very end that she felt ready for a change, she figured out Lizzie too-at the 30th day. Because otherwise, it would've been so happy, god forbid! He he.
I wanted to pass these days as quick as possible too, as Rick and Amanda keep their distance from each other, labeling themselves, as Amanda have more of a rapport with the Greenes, kids, and her...cadets, and such, so they wouldn't have gotten so close, either. I wanted that swing as a more bizarre thing, too, because just a basic swing wouldn't have had the same effect-hanging the kids upside down in their ankles, that's Amanda. :)
Controlling the frame is a tactic from PUA, and the infamous "fake it until you make it", which kinda works too. In reality, it's a version of Alfred Adler's "acting as if" therapy technique. It doesn't usually solve the root problems, as cognitive behavioral therapy doesn't aim to do that, I think, you *still* need to go back to your childhood to solve them, lol, but it keeps you functioning well enough. And Amanda is smart enough to get a sense of it. She didn't pass her time in libraries reading romance novels, he he.
Like always, please let me know what you think! Boring, good, nice, too bad words cannot describe? Ha ha :D