All right, this chapter's gonna touch some touchy issues, so, please be warned. Nothing more than the show actually covered, but here's your official warning.
XXI.
Sitting around the table in the library, the council passed the picture hand to hand. "Amanda found it this morning—" Rick explained as she sat closest to his post around the table while Rick was standing up in the room like he usually did, "She believes Lizzie drew it."
Sasha lifted her head from the picture as she gave it to Daryl, and twisting aside, asked directly to Amanda, "How do you know it's her?"
Her voice was cool, almost cold, as Rick knew even though the woman didn't hold Amanda responsible for Tyreese's death, she was still pointedly distant. Given the circumstance, Rick thought it was understandable, and Amanda had never made a compliant, as well, only took it with a silent acceptance.
His eyes skipped down at her from he stood, the ends of her hair still gently licking over her shoulders, parted at her left side, and she looked different, almost another woman again, and even with the obvious problem in front of them, Rick couldn't help himself but question why—why she'd done it. She'd gone to the bed yesterday still with her bun, Rick had seen her leaving Beth's cell and entering into hers, two cells blocks away.
The next he saw her in the morning, running toward him like mad, her loose hair swinging—then suddenly the realization had come to him.
Goddammit!
When he'd become this slow?! She—she must've cut it this morning—before she'd found the picture, at 30th day morning. This—today meant something to her, Rick knew it, knew it since the last week when she'd told him she hoped to see up to thirty.
She was—she was emotional that way, hiding it behind a brash, cold exterior like Daryl did, but secretly keeping a toll in her cell at the blackboard Rick had given her.
He recalled how she'd been two days ago—how anxious she'd looked—then her confession she'd wished they could've waited a bit more, then at the very day of her thirty she'd showed up cutting her hair, then this had happened.
A little girl—a little orphan girl losing it enough to start feeding walkers.
Rick suddenly felt he needed to keep her out of this—this…this might've cut too close for her. Though, he had no idea how to say it. It felt they were stuck into a limbo now. Each day they did the same drill, make a patrol together in the morning after her run, then keep themselves clear off each other dutifully.
They needed distance to cool things off. They needed time, despite both not wanting to get things further…romantically, that thing between them was still there, and it wasn't going to go away in one night, either. It was going to take time—possibly more dreams for him, too, but at least they'd turned more…carnal as he usually ended up dreaming having sex with her, so Rick supposed it was going well.
Until this morning, at least. "A couple of days ago—" Amanda started explaining, "I was playing with the kids. We made a swing and they were swinging. They were having…fun…" she said, and Rick tossed at her another look. That was mildly to put what she'd done for the kids, Rick could still hear the laughter from the kids that morning—the way they'd laughed happily, even Carl, and the way she had looked too—happy… "She said she wished Nick could've played with them, too," Amanda continued, "She—she was sad telling it. I thought it was a friend she'd lost." She paused, "Perhaps it's what happened, too. What I thought at first. Perhaps she lost a friend, and a walker outside the fences reminded her of him. I don't know."
"So she started feedin' them?" Daryl asked, darting at her a look, too.
"She also lost her father—" Hershel supplied, "Her only relative, and Carol's gone, too. It might cause trauma, as well."
But Rick shook his head, "This—this's started before the attack at the D—" he said, "No."
Sasha shook her head back too, "We're not sure of it."
"Either way," Amanda cut in, "We need to talk to her," she stated placid. "Why she's doing it? She knows she does something she shouldn't. She's smart, stopped or changed direction when she understood she got caught. And there's—there's also the way how she did it."
Glenn looked at her, "What do you mean?"
Amanda sighed, "The animals…the rats… she doesn't only feed rotters, but butchered animals too—so they'd be more of a feast. Butchered animals by children." She paused, swallowing, "It's—it's never good news."
"We don't know that for sure, either—" Glenn replied again, "Perhaps walkers did it. Not her."
Amanda gave all of them a look, "Perhaps. But we need to talk to her. Mr. Greene is right. She—she must've been trigged by a trauma, and I'm not liking the smell of this." She paused, her eyes turning away from them for a bit, "Perhaps—perhaps something happened. They don't have anyone anymore. Practically, they take care of themselves alone now." She let out a small breath, and swallowed low before she completed, "Someone—someone might've started taking advantage of that."
There was a brief pause in the room after her declaration as each tried to digest what she'd stated, and Rick felt—sick…knowing what she'd said could've been true—after he'd sent Carol away the sisters had started fending off themselves, they were protecting them, trying to look for them—but—but it wasn't the same thing. If anyone—anyone of them would've done that? The easy answer was no, but Rick was a cop. He'd seen what even looking normal people were capable of even before the turn. And, now… now everything was just more fucked up.
His chest tightened, and his throat was so dry, and the way Amanda had declared that possibility made his stomach coil… Looking at her, Glenn slowly asked, "As in…" but trailed off, couldn't finish his words.
"Yes—" Amanda said back, still trying to keep her voice calm, but failing, there was a timber in it that made it waver, "We—we have to...think each possibility." She paused and cleared her throat, straightening her back as if to straighten herself, "This kind of reaction doesn't happen without a reason," she continued then without faltering, "The girls are too exposed now. If someone started having ideas, they're the easiest options." She shook her head and murmured bitterly, "I should've thought about it before."
Rick felt the tightness in his chest grow even worse after that, but over the other's faces there was an aghast expression, except Hershel who looked as perturbed and wary as Amanda. "Y-you say there might be a child molester among us?" Sasha asked astonished.
Unfazed, Amanda only gave a nod back, "There might. We don't know. What we know is a twelve years old girl has started naming rotters and fed them with dead butchered rats. We need to talk to them. Both of them."
Sasha looked at her again, "Can you—can you do it?"
She nodded, "Someone has to—" she said back, bowing her head, "I guess I'm the best equipped one for it."
All eyes turned on her then again as she just kept looking down at the ground, and Rick really thought for a second it really would've been better if she stayed out of this. He opened his mouth but before he told them he was going to talk with the girls, Glenn asked, "Did you—did you do something like this before?"
She let out a sigh, shaking her head, and lifted her head. "No. Not really—" She stood up, "Not as the questioner, anyways."
She left the room then without another word.
Quickly, Rick followed and caught her in the corridor before she slipped away…somewhere. Rick had gotten wiser into her gig now. When she got stressed, she had a way to slip out, usually hide herself somewhere, but Rick wasn't going to let her do it this time. Not with this. No.
This—her day—her thirtieth day shouldn't have been like this.
Then before he understood, he felt it, deep inside him…he felt like he was failing her, even though the thought was absurd, the feeling was there, impossible to…unfeel. Instead of this, she should've enjoyed her new look—her open hair—hang on with Beth, train her people… They made her happy, Rick knew. He—he wanted her to be happy. Not—not like this. He wanted her to play with kids, not questioning them if someone were hurting them.
He knew this was going to cut deep. He knew.
The other possibilities—speculations were there, too, at the darkest corner of his mind—but he didn't even want to think on them…
"Amanda—" he called after her as she kept walking, knowing she'd already realized he was following, and still didn't stop, "Amanda, wait. I—I want to talk."
She then did, faltered her steps, letting out a big breath, and turned to him, "Rick—I really don't want to talk right now. Just let it go, okay?" she said, "I—I can't do it."
Understanding, he nodded, "I—I just wanted to say if you don't feel comfortable with it, you can sit this one out." He looked at her, getting a step close, "I'll handle it."
She shook her head, "No—" and declined, "If—if something really happened, you'd only get them more anxious. It gotta be me. Mr. Greene can come, too. You also can come, too," she continued, "But I'll do the talking."
For a moment he still thought to oppose, but then there he saw that look in her eyes again, the determination and willfulness, and he knew he couldn't keep her away form it, not this time. "Okay. If you want to—" he told her back then, "I just wanted you to know—"
She cut him off, "I know. Thank you. But it's okay. You don't need to worry."
Giving her another look, he slowly nodded, said again, "Okay."
They stayed in silence for a second, then Rick slowly started turning, feeling he should leave now but before he completed the turn, she called him again, "Rick—"
Rick stopped and looked at her— "It—I was lucky. Nothing happened to me." She paused for a second, "If—if you—" She paused, as if she didn't know how to continue, and stopped there.
Feeling something lifting off his chest, he nodded…because he had—he had been worrying—at the back of his mind—thoughts, speculations clawing at him… he felt…relieved. God, he felt so much relieved… "Thank ya," he slowly whispered, even though he had no idea why he'd said it—he felt he'd had to say something but words felt so…inappropriate… Thank you for assuring me that you weren't abused as a child, Amanda…
Giving him a side look, Amanda nodded in silence, too, and turned to walk away.
This time, Rick let her.
# # #
As she sat back around the table in the library, the end of her hair brushed over the thin fabric of her basic white tee, and Amanda felt annoyed—felt…regret…felt—goddammit!
She really—really didn't want to do this.
She took out of the brown hair tie she'd tugged inside her pocket after she'd cut off her hair and made a little short ponytail at the back of her neck.
Well, she couldn't make it into a bun anymore, but that should work too… God, she really didn't want to do this. But as she'd told Rick it had to be her. There was no one else. She—she wouldn't let a twelve years girl suffer like this. It was going to be hard. She could at least make it a bit better for the girl. She knew how that felt, answering those questions, feeling scared and shamed, feeling something wrong.
She—she really wished she'd been wrong on this—it was just—what? A twelve years old girl feeding rotters with dead butchered rats… God!
She was fucking hating it!
But if she had to be completely honest, it was the butchered rats' part that made her worry the worst. She'd seen that before once. The animals…the cats…dogs…they'd started finding them around butchered, someone killing them in the worst possible ways…soon one of the boys got caught. Amanda still could remember the fuss it'd started, the social workers and officers from Special Victims Units filling in the home, countless, countless of them, questioning them for hours and hours. At the end they'd never seen the boy again, only heard that their friend had gone to a special school for kids like him.
They had never learned what had exactly happened, but now she had a good guess.
And, all of it was making her insides tremble now—what…what…they were going to do if something like that was happening? How—how could they deal with such a thing?
With a twelve years old girl with psychopathic tendencies.
No one was prepared for it.
Not to mention if there was a child molester among them, too—she recalled their shocked faces when she'd voiced out that possibility too, thinking it so impossible…still such a naivety.
There were only Rick and Beth's father in the room now—as the other council members, Sasha and Glenn had left, and they weren't talking to each other, either, each lost to their own thoughts.
Rick had given her a look as she'd tied her back around her neck, which she'd chose to look over, she—she honestly couldn't deal with him right now.
He—he was worried about her now, she could tell, giving her those quick but intense glances, and their…talk at the corridor—he—he was worried. He—cared for her. Amanda knew, just as the same way she cared for him—he…he was different, even though they didn't want to pursue anything, both still felt it. So, Amanda had wanted to tell him—because she knew—she'd felt it, felt his worry, so she'd told him…. I was lucky. Nothing happened to me.
There. It was done. No one raped me or anything, so stop worry! No. Nothing had happened to her. She—she'd just watched it happen to other people, wondering—fearing when it was going to be her turn, when her luck would run out.
Story of her life in a nutshell.
Her hand briefly touched at her stomach, where Gorman had shot her…
She gave out a small sigh, bowing her head, and caught Rick flicker another look at her, and ignored it again… That was a dance they'd perfected now over the month, and Amanda was getting tired of it… wishing her old life back…so wishing it… It felt like the woman she'd felt this morning—the woman who had been smiling at her reflection was altogether someone else… Not her.
She could've never been that woman. How stupid she had been to even think like that!
God, she never learned her lessons, never.
A few minutes later, Beth brought the girl. Lizzie stayed in front of them in the room, looking aloof but there was an anxiety in her too, Amanda would feel it, too. "I'm waiting with Mika outside," Beth said, and Amanda nodded, as she called at the twelve years old, "Lizzie, please come, sit." She gestured at the chair she'd prepared specifically directly in front of her so she could be in clear, direct correct with the girl. Hershel Greene was sitting beside her, and Rick was standing at the corner a few feet away from them, keeping his distance.
Lizzie gave all of them a look—again a bit worried and glanced back as Beth left the room, and looked at Amanda again, and asked, "I—I'm in trouble?"
Then Amanda knew this—this had happened before—the girl had been interviewed before. She shook her head and pointed at the chair back. "No. We just wanted to ask you a few questions," she answered with her best calm, serene professional voice she'd used to hear from the social workers during her own interviews…. "Just a few questions. You're not in trouble," she assured her, "You don't need to feel scared or worried."
The girl nodded—hesitantly, skipping a look at Beth's father and Rick, Amanda caught, and she quickly added, "They can leave if you want—" she told her as Rick snapped his head up to shoot at her a look, which she professionally ignored again.
The girl gave her a quick small head shake, sitting down, "No. It's okay."
She must be one of the tallest girl Amanda had ever seen, and quite skinny, and pretty, very, very pretty with her dark brown hair, ivory skin, and dark honey eyes, and Amanda studied her careful as she placed her across the seat, trying to pick up a sign, anyone sign… "When we played outside at the tree, you said you wished Nick could've played with us," she started then with the same "social worker" voice, "Who's Nick?" she inquired, "A friend of yours?"
She darted a look at her, and nodded a little, "Yes."
"From where?"
"He—he was my friend from our school—" the girl answered, "We used to play together."
Amanda nodded, and questioned further, "Do you miss him?"
Again, another nod, "Yes. He—he was nice to me—" she said, "I miss him."
Amanda nodded back, "It's okay. We all miss our friends," she assured her, and asked, "Do you miss your father, too?" she asked then.
A quick answer came, with darting away eyes, "Yes," the girl answered, "I miss him, too."
Amanda shared a look with Rick and Beth's father and turned to the girl, "Someone's sleeping with you now at nights?" she asked.
Lizzie shook her head, "No. Mika and I sleep our cells now."
Amanda nodded. "Lizzie, I'm gonna ask you a few more questions now, but I want you to be honest with me. There is nothing you need to fear, nothing you to worry or be shamed about." She stared at the girl directly in the eye, "You can trust me."
The girl nodded. "Does anyone come to your cell in the nights?"
The girl shook her head, "No."
"Do you see anyone lingering outside?"
Another shake. She continued, trying to keep her voice still calm, "Does anyone make you feel uncomfortable with something?"
Lizzie shook her head. "Does anyone touch you in a way feels wrong?" Amanda pressed down, she just had to. There was no other way to go with that, you just sat down and answered the questions, wishing it were done as quick as possible…but Lizzie was getting even more anxious.
She shook her head even more agitated, "No… Why do you ask me these questions?"
Amanda shook her head, too, "We just need to know, Lizzie, that's it. Please, be calm. You can tell me—"
"No! No! I want to go!" she screamed, standing up.
And Amanda started really getting worried. She stood up, too, as Rick made a move, but she stopped him with a rising hand, as Beth's father spoke beside him, "Lizzie! Amanda just wants to be sure you're as safe as possible. We mean no harm, child."
"I'm safe—I'm safe." The girl said, shaking her head, "Let me go. I want to go."
Amanda held the girl's hand, "Lizzie, please, sit down. Be calm."
But the girl was done—she started strangling on her breath—choking on her breath—Amanda recognized the symptoms quick enough. A panic attack. "Lizzie, look at me—" she ordered, lifting the girl's head, touching at her chin, "Look at my eyes, listen to my voice." The girl stared at her, Amanda took a deep breath, and ordered the girl, "Breath deeply. With me." She nodded, "Yeah, like this slowly… one… two… three…" She walked her through the breath, then started giving it out slowly, Lizzie mimicked her too, "Again, breath slowly…one…two…three…" They gave it out slowly again, then another time.
When the girl was calmed down, Amanda seated her down again, "I want to look at flowers—" she slowly said, "I—used to look at flowers with Nick—" she murmured softly, "There were so beautiful, so bright…"
"There're daises blossoming in the field now—" Amanda told her, "Did you see them?" The girl nodded, "I can make you a tiara with them."
Her breakdown suddenly wiped out as if she weren't the girl who had stopped how to breath for a second, Lizzie nodded eagerly, "Really?"
Amanda nodded back. "Yes. I can teach how to do it to you and Mika, then you can do to your friends, too."
The girl nodded. "Can you? Can you show me now?"
Well, fuck the social worker stance. It wasn't working. "Yeah, sure—" She turned to Rick, lifting her head, "Rick, can you pick up daises for us?"
Rick gave her a long look, his look clearly telling her what his mouth wasn't, and Amanda held it back at the same way, then a seconds later, he nodded, and left the room to find the daises.
Amanda left the girl alone before Rick came back with a bunch of daises and handed them to her. She took them with a nod, and told them, "Please, go out. Ask Beth in. And Mika, too—" She turned to Lizzie, "Let's do it with the girls, Lizzie, right? You'd like that?"
Lizzie shrugged, "Yeah… They're fine."
She nodded again, and turned to Rick and Beth's father, looking at them pointedly. Mr. Greene slowly stood up, understanding her wish to keep things easier for the girl, but Rick was still giving her one of those looks. She stood up and walked them out.
Outside, she turned to Beth and Mika, "Beth, take Mika inside," she told to the younger girl, "I'm coming in a minute—" She handed daises to Beth, "We'll make daisy tiaras."
Beth nodded, taking the daises, and opened the door to go inside. She turned to Rick and the Greene family patriarch, "She—she hides something."
"Amanda—are you sure this's a good idea?" Rick asked.
"I honestly don't know—" she said back, "But you saw how she lost it when I started real questioning. And I still haven't showed her the picture. Let me talk to her in a more—friendly environment. This whole…interview thing makes her unsettled. She's done it before, I'm quite sure of it."
"How?" Hershel Greene asked.
She shrugged, "I just do," she said back with a sigh, "It's a hunch." She paused, "I think that's school she mentioned—it might not be a normal school."
Finally giving her another look, Rick nodded, albeit still hesitant, like he was still thinking it wasn't a good idea. All in honesty, Amanda could hardly deny that, but there was no other option as well.
Something was going on, and they had to learn it.
So, she gave them back a last look too, and entered in the library again.
# # #
Waiting outside the corridor in front of the library, Rick felt this day was going to be of the those days—the worst of worsts…her damn 30th day, passing questioning little girls if they'd been abused under his roof—before his every eyes.
Does anyone touch you in a way feels wrong?
The question turned in his stomach to stone, bile in his throat—and if someone had really done—if anyone really touched the girls, Rick was going to—he was going to cut off the bastard's dick and made him choke on in it!
He'd been almost out in the corridor for an hour now, Hershel had gone long ago, Rick couldn't leave—couldn't leave them alone…
Does anyone touch you in a way feels wrong?
The question froze blood in his veins again, knowing that Amanda had answered those questions somewhere in her distant past, too, gone through all of that even though she'd been lucky as she'd stated—and the anger was in him—for what—at who he wasn't even sure…he just felt angry and weary, like she almost make him feel…
And this time it wasn't even her fault…
He sighed out, bowing his head, looking at the simple grey plaster ground, everything in the life was grey now—dimly lighted and grey, living in a prison to be safe.
It felt like a sick joke, but appropriate.
Their home.
He recalled his own words to her two weeks ago in the laundry room… This—this's what's important. Our home. Us.
And as sick as it was, the words were still correct.
He picked up a tore in his shirt, the old dark orange-brown plaid thing falling apart at the seams, literally, and stared at it… This place—this place is what all matters to me, Amanda…
Rick hoped it wasn't coming apart like his shirt, too.
He had been trying, god knew, he had been trying…but if that thing—if what Amanda had feared happened too—his thoughts cut off as the door opened, and Beth emerged out, herding out both girls, each of them having a daisy tiara over their heads.
Beth gave him a quick look, "Amanda's inside, waiting for you—" the younger Greene told him, as if she knew he would've been waiting, and who was kidding? Of course, she knew.
He walked inside and saw her pulling her own tiara off over her head, her hair pulled back into a ponytail—and it'd made him feel sadder—seeing her pulling back her loose hair again.
Like a failure.
Again.
He tried to push the feeling off, but it was still there, like a constant, like his only constant, how much he tried, he always found ways to fail people he cared.
She looked tried too, pulling off it away, the flower thing catching up hair off her head, and she grimaced—and yanked it off this time forcefully, annoyed—almost angry and weary, much like him, and threw it down over the table, muttering something under her breath.
Rick gave her a look, and she shook her head, bowing it, then stood up, and ran to the door, towards him.
Rick stared at her—suddenly feeling—frozen again, but she pushed him a bit over the door, and opened it, called for Beth. "Beth!" she almost yelled, pushing her upper torso over the crack of the door, "Will you call for Daryl, please?" she asked, "We need to talk to him."
Leaning back over backward, Rick saw Beth nodding at her over the crack before Amanda closed it off. She turned over him then, and walked back to the table, and sat down again.
Rick stood up hovering over her in silence. Amanda sighed out again, then lifted her head up. "Good thing—" she started, "She's—they're not abused or anything. No. I don't think. So, we should be happy at least."
Rick felt "but" in the words, "But...?"
"Well—the but part—" she said, and leaning forward over the table, she took the picture in her hand again, "I got her talk about it," she started explaining, "Why she drew it…why she was feeding rotters." Rick nodded, "She declines it, of course, but I think I got the idea," she continued, "That school—Mika wasn't going there. It was only Lizzie. And Nick—Nick was her friend from there."
"What kind of school was that?" Rick asked back, understanding something was really off with the girl, but before Amanda could answer Daryl walked into the room.
"Hey—ya asked for me?" the hunter asked, and Amanda nodded, turning to him.
"Yes. We need to search the whole prison, look for dead animals, butchered, dissected. I've got an idea but we need to be sure," she remarked, "Can you do it?"
Daryl nodded, "Yeah, sure."
"Take Michonne and Sasha, too," Rick said, "Check it as fast as you can."
But at his words, this time Daryl gave a half shake, "Nah—I take Sasha. Hershel wanted to find some wild seeds in the woods. Maggie's with Glenn. Michonne took him out."
"All right—" Rick said then, "You and Sasha. We'll find you asap."
With a nod then, the tracker left, and Rick turned to Amanda. "You think—you think she does that animals she finds?"
She nodded, "Remember what they always say how the serial killers start at a young age?" Amanda asked as Rick bowed his head, holding the bridge of his nose.
"By killing animals—" he muttered slowly, shaking his head, and lifted his head back at her, "You think—you think she's psychopath?"
She looked as confused as he was as she shook her shoulders, "I—I don't know. But when I asked how Nick and she used to play—she…she got weird—so I asked her if they used to play with animals…and she didn't answer—getting upset again. I cooled her down, but I think yeah… the rotters outside there must've made her remember him in some way—what they used to do together." She paused for a second, "I—I felt something off with her from the start, Rick. She was too sharp, too factual for her age—but also…you know…she looked sad. I thought it was because of the death of her father—but Mika calls her weird, said she'd been always weird. She—she was afraid if Lizzie got them into trouble she first came here—like…like it'd happened before too."
Rick sighed, shaking his head again, "What—what're we gonna do if she was, Amanda?" he asked then, "I mean—what if she becomes more violent?"
"I—I don't know—" she stammered on the words, swallowing again, "I have no idea how to treat with a child like this…" she murmured, heaving out a sigh, "There was—there was this boy once in one of the homes… We—we started finding animals around—butchered terribly—pinned down on earth, cut open—dissected… It was horrible, horrible, Rick. I—I was like nine or something, I guess. I found a cat pinned down on the wooden stack at the basement…her belly cut open…the cat…it was the little kitten that we played in the garden. We—we used to feed her. I gave her one of my milk shares one day. We were five or six at the house. Our foster parents, the husband, got so mad, told me they didn't have money to waste on street cats." She let out a bitter sound out of her lips, shaking her head, "I—I think he made me go to bed hungry for two days so I could learn not to give away my food." She shrugged, "I didn't care. I liked that cat. Then I found her like that." She shook her head, staring ahead, "It was horrible."
She stopped, turning to him, as if understanding what she'd told him, and a redness crept over her neck toward her cheeks again, and Rick didn't know what to say—just look at her stupefied, one part of him screaming to go and take her in his arms, tell her it had passed now—the other…the other just stood up, staring at her…
Then the door cracked up loudly, and Daryl shouted, poking his head inside barely, "Come—" he berated, "You gotta see this!"
They shared another look as Daryl pushed back from the door and she stopped as Rick already started for the door, almost running.
They followed Daryl with quick steps, going towards the maintenance rooms of the prison blocks, and Rick saw the boiler room.
His steps faltered, and he stared ahead at the door—the red door that behind his living nightmare had passed, "Uh…we—we found it there, man—" Daryl told him, bowing his head, one hand holding the door's handle.
Amanda was giving him a look too, her eyebrows knitting up, not understanding, but a second later, he nodded at Daryl, "Okay—open it."
Upon setting a foot inside, he felt—he felt he was going to heave out—his stomach churning, his eyes almost blackening out… and his steps faltered again, and he swallowed low… "She—she must've figured out we don't check these parts a lot—" Daryl commented slowly, turning aside, and Amanda gave a look both of them.
"Why?" she asked.
"We ain't—" Daryl only said back, Rick didn't speak.
Keeping his eyes focused ahead, not moving away—not moving away to that narrow corridor—he followed Daryl, forced him to follow him. He—had to do this.
He needed to do this.
This place—this place is what all matters to me…
"Hey—you okay?" she asked suddenly, standing a few feet away from, giving him a side look.
Rick nodded, "Yeah. I am—" he rasped out, "Keep moving."
Her face lost the worried expression, and she glared at him, but without a word quickened her pace and followed Daryl.
Rick felt—like an asshole, and fastened his own pace too to catch her—to say…to say what exactly? I'm sorry, Amanda, this's the place my wife forsake her life for Judith and then got devoured by a walker? Nothing left aside a lock of her hair, and her wedding ring.
His eyes turned over to her ponytail at the back of her neck—and suddenly it felt so…wrong—so wrong…everything… then ahead of him, walking into a clearing spot at the corner, he saw her stopping at her tracks, her spine straightening.
Rick fastened his pace even quicker and caught up at them, and saw what had made her cast off stone, frozen, and wished—wished he hadn't.
Over the wall—there was a cat—pinned on it with nails at its open paws, cut open, red and fur mixed together—a macabre—and Rick then realized what Amanda had feared the most had come true—and he saw her hands shaking, and he also understood she was living in her own nightmare again… much like him…
She swept around on her heels, bowing her head, shaking it—without any thought, without any notion, Rick took a step forward and wrapped his arm over her waist as they stood inches apart from each other—their bodies angled, not touching but close, so close—and he wanted—he wanted…
He flattened his palm over the small of her back, and made a move to pull her closer—
A sudden boom echoed in the air, making the air surrounding them tremble, and the walls shook, plaster falling down from the ceilings.
Shaken out of their momentary stupor, they both took a step back—staring at each other as plaster kept falling down—
"What the fuck—" Daryl shouted, turning back—
Rick turned and started running back, "We're attacked!"
Okay, FINALLY! The Governor strikes back!
At first, I'd planned to take more time until he shows up, really, but as I wrote, I understood there was no way in hell I could've been able to keep Amanda and Rick still apart from each other with that silly "partners" if things went well, so, I also had to use Lizzie as a way to get things like it usually was, and here we were, Governor is back, as they both already started feeling like shit.
Lizzie's part-well, frankly, I tried to deal with it as tactful as I could be, child abuse is a no-nonsense issue for me, even in a fan fiction, but in their environment, they had to think-especially Amanda had to think if Lizzie might be getting abused, because you know... Life. Unfortunately. As story purposes, it was also a great way to get Amanda and Rick closer in a subtle, yet horrible way, I think.
So, yeah, Amanda will be meeting the new sonofabitch of the town!