A/N: Updating three chapters at once. Please, be advised.
Enjoy.
XXVII.
Twenty-four years old tall young woman kept walking toward where the tracks met, her pace slow but decisive. This wasn't the end she knew. It could not be. She had lost too much yesterday, too much, today was a new day.
With each step, the young woman told her herself to keep up faith, just as she would say. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, over her eyes she saw her little sister's smile—her wide blue eyes shining—her hair kissed by sunshine… and she looked at her with a smile, and said… now, sis, it wouldn't hurt you to have a little bit of faith.
Tears prickled her eyes, and she blinked them away, as her husband took her hand in his, as they still walked at the tracks, falling behind the others—and his hand was even calmer than the scalding sun in the sky, and it warmed her insides. "We'll find her—" he told her softly, and the tall young woman believed him as well, because he always kept faith, too, even when she couldn't, and she loved him for that— "We'll find all of them, baby—"
Tightening her fingers over him, the young woman nodded in return in silence. They would. She'd already lost too much, she couldn't lose her little sister, either. She could not.
She would not.
She stopped when her eyes fell on the wooden board beside the tracks—the same words again… like a tagline from a long-forgotten movie—a beacon of light through the darkness that survived them… The young woman hoped it wasn't a false one, like the others—and she also tried not to think the home she'd lost—or her family—
No.
Like her father always said, it was the darkest before the dawn, and this wasn't the end. It couldn't be.
Her eyes stayed at the words—black letters on the wooden surface… Sanctuary for all. Those who arrive survive.
Then her eyes fell on the lone limping walker lingering beside it, and she looked at it.
And then she knew.
Her eyes still on the dead, the twenty-four years old tall young woman marched to the dead, drawing out her knife.
No. It wasn't the end. Not yet.
She stabbed the dead at the head with a swift killing stroke and knelt down as the decaying corpse fell over her feet.
# # #
A few feet ahead of her, Rick ran a few steps toward the white funeral home, and knelt down on one knee as his son rushed at him from the porch, holding his arms wide open for the boy.
The boy took it. "Dad!" Amanda watched as the fourteen years old boy threw himself at his father, Rick hugging him back tightly, and for a little while the world felt a bit much better place.
It was only a bit more, though, as there was still that cutting bitter sorrow and weariness in her—but—but she just better—seeing them like this. She was still angry with Rick, but still felt—better.
She wished—she wished—she wished—she closed her eyes, recalling his words… I wish things would've been different, but we both know it's a naught wish.
Of course, she knew—she always believed thinking of what ifs was a waste of time, too, believed they just had to play the hand they'd been dealt, and his voice cut through her thoughts—It could've been you… and his eyes stared at hers, I couldn't risk you—
Then she saw Lizzie too—lifting her head up—giving her a little bit smile… It's your turn now, Amanda. You need to have your share…
Her share of what?
Misery, pain, and loss?
Hot tears burned her eyes and she freed her hand from Mika's—she didn't want to cry, not now, at least not until she found some solitude and be herself again, then the next moment—she saw Beth coming out to the porch, holding Judith—the little baby angel in her arms, and Daryl walking a few steps behind them—
Beth looked at her, and started running from the porch towards them, and something in her snapped—just like the moment when she'd learned about Dawn and the vaccines. It wasn't a furious tempest of rage now, though. It felt like a giant wave of sorrow and relief flood over her, and she felt drowning, but she didn't fight, she couldn't—she…she just let it and started running toward Beth, too. She just wanted her friend—wanted to hug her—feel that…warm camaraderie. She—she'd so missed the girl.
But before they were at each other's company, her eyes caught Rick start doing the same, too, catching up the sight of her baby girl with Beth, and soon they were all in each other's embrace.
For a second Amanda felt tension—and stood still as his one arm held Beth's back and Judith as the other held hers, their bodies inches apart from each other in their three-sided intimate hug—his forehead half touching at Beth's, and half at hers. He stood still then, too as if he couldn't cross the last inch between himself and her, as well, couldn't dare it. Then suddenly Amanda felt his arm looped over her waist further as he did the same with Beth too, to bring them closer. The young girl went willingly, still holding Judith, pressed at his side, as Amanda still stood rigid, her back straining—then she felt it—the subtle, so subtle pressure at the small of her back—nudging at her—and the flood washed over her again, and she—she let it—even though a part of her hated herself for it—but she let it go, and let him pull her at his other side.
With the corner of her eyes, Amanda saw his eyes—red and prickling, but he was smiling as his hand played with Judith's hair, giving the baby's head a brief kiss, and before she knew it, Amanda started smiling too, seeing them together like that—she just couldn't help it—couldn't help herself… Carl came and hugged them from Beth's side, and Beth laughed, twisting her head up backwards, "Hey, Daryl—wanna come for the group hug?"
Amanda darted her eyes at the tracker, as well, between the arms held her— "No shit—" Daryl said back, shaking his head, "Jus' gon' watch it from here."
All of them laughed, and Beth looked at her, turning her smile, "I know you'd be back—" the younger girl whispered back.
In return, Amanda just started crying again.
She was back. They were back, and she felt—she felt—glad, despite everything. She couldn't help herself.
# # #
When the euphoric relief finding each other wore off, they settled down in the hall of the funeral home. Rick tossed a glance outside through the window beside he was standing, his hip propped against the wall, his eyes wandering over the front yard, and checked the position of sun. It was getting late. If they were really going to go out tonight and started looking for others, they needed to act quick.
Yet, each of them was lingering now—quietly sitting in the memorial room. Even Amanda was pensive in silence, her head bowed. He'd been half expecting her to demand that Daryl should've left as soon as they'd set a foot inside at the funeral home, but it seemed their reunion had caught her too as she'd stood there and let him embrace her as well in their awkward hug—hesitating but finally letting him as her tears ran free.
It was a start, he told himself. They still needed to deal what had happened, but it was going to be okay. It had to be. He—he had to make things right again, he had to. He didn't know right now how, but he was going to find out. They—they just needed to…stay alive until he did.
They were together again, and that was what mattered for now.
Though as they were here now, Rick wasn't sure how they should proceed for the next. He'd wanted to get the air of the safe house, but nothing he'd seen so far had made his worries quell down. The house was everything he would've expected from Grady or Dawn—even their safe house was clean, pristine, kept in perfect order. But there was dust at everywhere, so he knew it'd been a while since Amanda's former colleagues had been here, which was troubling him greatly.
They had put down Judith over the couch beside the door with Mika, who immediately had fallen into sleep, exhausted by all the way they'd taken without stopping.
Amanda was sitting beside her, her hand still holding hers as the girl didn't let it even while she slept, while Beth sat down next to Judith. Carl was sitting in front of the piano across the couch beside the window he stood, and Daryl was perched atop the open empty coffin on the altar in front of the room.
"How did ya make out?" Daryl questioned finally breaking the silence, "Where did ya pass the night?"
"Amanda took us in a house in a town close to the prison. I got injured, we had to stay in—" he explained, waving over his leg and his side, "Walkers—they were at everywhere," he continued, "We had to turn to south. Couldn't make to north."
Daryl nodded, but Rick saw Carl's lips clenched. The joy of seeing them again had left off Carl the first, as his son had started giving Rick those looks after they'd settled back inside the house—darting at him glances, and Rick read the silent accusation in them even though Carl didn't make a word.
Rick knew his son was furious with him. He recognized those looks all too well—his boy directing them at him whenever he got mad—whenever he got mad with growing their crops and plants, feeding the pigs…
Rick wanted to sigh but held it at the tip of his tongue. Whatever it was, he was going to deal with it—as just he was going to deal with Amanda and her dissatisfaction. He had no other choice.
Daryl made a little gesture with his head at the sleeping girl, "And the girl?"
"Found her at the prison—" Rick answered and paused before he corrected, "Or they found us more likely. We were about to get done. Two people with guns. We were out of bullets," he continued, his breath hitching as Amanda snapped her head up, "L—Lizzie shot them down."
Daryl gave him a look, too, "Where's the girl?"
Rick shook his head, and slowly said as Amanda's eyes bore through him, "She's gone."
Daryl gave them another look as Amanda's lips flattened, her eyes glinting darkly as her face turned sterner, and Rick stared ahead. Both didn't say anything, and ever the quick one, realizing it wasn't a talk he should press down, Daryl moved away from it.
"We should go out—" Amanda then finally announced, moving her eyes from him, her voice stark and rigid, "We need to look for others, search for their trails. We—thought about it—" she said, her voice straining on the part "we", "but Rick wanted to come to find Carl and Judith first."
Daryl nodded as the same time Beth remarked in return, "Amanda's right—" the young girl said, "we need to look for others. I want to find Maggie."
Daryl shook his head, "It's almost evening," the tracker stated, too, "Sun's gon' set down soon."
"Yes, but we have to go check out," Amanda insisted, as Rick kept his silence, "Others won't survive long if we don't find them…not another night. If they already survived the last one—" she added sotto voce.
The disturbance was in him again—the fact she was most probably going to go with Daryl. Rick had made her come with him, but how he was going to keep her inside now was another matter. He wasn't really sure if he would start another fight with her, but thought of it was making his insides crawl, then Rick noticed it, too. Daryl's looks. "Nah…" the tracker said, shaking his head again, "You ain't stay outside when it's dark."
Amanda stared at him back coldly. "I'm going—" she announced in return, her voice as cold and clear as her eyes, "If you want to stay and be safe, fine."
"Amanda—" Rick finally cut in, too, as Beth stood up from the couch's other side, "Amanda's right. We need to look for others. I'm going, too."
Then Carl stood as well, "I'm too—I won't sit on my ass doing nothing—" he almost seethed out the last part, sending a glare at Rick.
Rick held his boy's eyes, "Watch your mouth—" and snapped back, "And no!"
"I want to go!" Rick knew he wanted to yell instead of keeping his voice low, but did it for the sleeping girl and Judith, "I won't sit down and watch while bad things happen to us like we always did!" He gave Rick a seething look too, "Like you always did."
"Carl—" Rick said, trying to hold on his reserves not to snap at the boy again, but Amanda cut him off.
"Your dad's right—" she remarked placid, turning to Carl, "It's too dangerous." She turned to Beth, too, before no one could say anything, "And you, too. I'll go alone."
Both Carl and Beth shook their heads in protest as Rick walked to her, the fire rising in him again, "No!" He shook his head, his voice grating at his throat—did she—did she really think he would let her leave after everything had happened—His eyes found hers, "You can't go out alone in the dark. Don't—"
She cut him off, catching his eyes, too, "Still not asking for your permission, Rick—" she almost hissed, "And I am—"
Rick opened his mouth, but before he could say anything back, Daryl cut between everyone— "All of you—zip yer mouths—" the tracker roughed out in a rasp, jumping from his perch at the coffin, "If anyone goes out 's me, and I ain't takin' no one with me."
Rick nodded, turning to the hunter, "Yeah—will you?" Rick questioned, "Amanda got a point. Maggie and Glenn would make it out there, but others most probably wouldn't."
Daryl gave back a half nod, "A'right—" he accepted, "I do—" Both Beth and Carl perked up, but Daryl shook his head at them, "Nah—'m faster alone—and might need to stay out. Y'all stay."
Rick nodded too but wondered if Daryl was doing it on his behalf. Being out in the woods in the night was trouble, and being alone—no, it wasn't the best option, and the common sense was saying that Amanda would go with him, and the hunter would know it, as well.
Daryl was never stupid, and almost nothing escaped from him. Rick recalled the way he'd questioned him the day Rick had made Amanda stay too, instead of running after another sonofabitch. It's different—Rick had told the other man, and it'd been—because she was—she was different, and Rick was beginning to catch up what that truly meant… Over his eyes, he saw the gun rising again, and the way he'd pulled her behind his back—
And Rick felt torn. He'd thought about it before, talking it to Amanda, but as he stood here now, the notion was disturbing him greatly, sitting on his ass as Carl had mildly put it as Daryl risked his own life to look for people Rick should've protected at the first place. But he didn't want Amanda be out there without him, either and they couldn't leave at night altogether—not when there was Judith, he couldn't take that risk, either… He gave a look at Daryl, "Can you—can you do it?"
The man nodded, but Amanda shook her head, "No—" she opposed, taking a step closer toward them, "It's too dangerous alone," she repeated, "You need someone to hold your back."
Daryl shrugged off as Rick shut off his eyes for a second, wanting to scream at her no—no, she had to stay beside him—where he could protect her, where he could keep her safe—at least try to— "I need you here—" the words suddenly left him, almost before he knew he uttered them out.
"Here's dangerous, too—" Rick gestured the room with his head as eyes turned to him, clearing his throat, "I can't protect Judith and Mika on my own if walkers find us." he continued, his eyes skipping at Carl and Beth, but he left it unsaid, Carl and Beth could fight, but this was different, "I need help—" he stated, and it was also true. He needed her beside him, but also needed her help, as well, and like everything else between them, it was so bizarre—so complicated. "And there're your former friends, too," he added, and repeated, his voice clearer as he realized how true the words were, "I need you here, Amanda."
He needed her. They were a good team, from the start—even not knowing each other, even not talking to each other—they'd worked flawless—killing those walkers swiftly—almost effortlessly when they had met. They worked together seamlessly like true partners, when they were open and honest with each other, that was it.
For a moment, he wondered how they'd have dealt with Lizzie if things hadn't turned out the way it had been—if she had come to him first, talked to him, instead of running off for a supply run the first thing at the morning without telling him anything. They were supposed to be partners, dammit!
Rick knew he'd—uh overreacted—he could see it better now, knowing that she was alone with the girl as he fantasied all the scenarios how badly it would've ended—each more horrible than the other.
He gave a mental head shake, almost shook his head, she'd been right. They—they should've handled this better. He was glad that he hadn't seen her get shot again, but they should've dealt with the girl more—tactfully. He—he just—he sighed out under his breath. He didn't know.
She—she should've just waited him to wake up—then he remembered…
Why, you were out, Rick, moaning your wife's name in your sleep! the snappish words echoed through his mind, and his eyes drew to her— she was looking at her too after his declaration, and there was that thing in her eyes again as if she couldn't decide to slap him or kiss him—the green of her eyes sharpened into almost emerald—glinting with an edge, and Rick wondered—really did if she had left at the morning with the girl because Rick had talked in his coma-sleep Lori's name.
That surely sounded like Amanda—running away as soon as something she didn't like happened, hiding herself in bathrooms or laundry rooms, or doing her laps all the while pretending he didn't exist, instead of coming to talk, and Rick almost scoffed—kettle calling pot, indeed.
And he really—really moaned Lori's name in his sleep?
And knowing that Amanda had heard it—God!
I don't want any complications in my life, either… he recalled his own words, and wanted to heave out a deep sigh.
Then her eyes still on him, she finally nodded, "Okay."
Rick nodded back, their eyes caught on each other, but before he could say anything, Carl kicked off the stool he'd been sitting on in front of the piano. His eyes snapped at his son as he left the memorial hall, and this time Rick heaved out.
# # #
"Do you know him?" Beth asked as they stood over the metal slab at the basement, and looking down at the white-plastered face, frozen in time, Amanda shook her head.
"No—he was already there when we came to the house the first time—" she explained, "We found him here. I guess they finished him for the ceremony but couldn't manage to hold the memorial."
Lifting her head up, Beth gave her a look, Amanda sensed it under her bowed head, "Why didn't you bury him?" the young girl questioned.
Her eyes still on the frozen corpse, Amanda shook her head again, "I—I don't know. We—we just couldn't, I guess."
Beth shook her head, "We need to do it—" she said, "I want to bury him. Make his memorial."
Amanda lifted her head up, "We—we don't even know him, Beth."
"It doesn't matter. Someone took all this trouble. We should…honor it." She paused, "Daryl was going to dig a grave. We talked about it before you came back." Another pause, "I'm gonna ask Rick to do it."
Amanda scoffed, looking down at the dead man, "Yeah. Go ask Rick—he'd like that…" she murmured, her voice bitter and curt, "making graves."
Beth gave her another look, and stated, her voice as cool as hers, "You're mad at him."
Her head snapped at the younger girl, the fury sweeping over her again, the same resentment and anger—she…she couldn't help herself with it, either, she was glad to be here, glad to be with them, with Beth, with kids, perhaps even with him, but she was still furious, angry at him, she couldn't help it. "Do you understand none of this would've happened if he accepted to leave the prison like that sonofabitch told him?" she gritted through her teeth, and explained, "We had a chance. That bastard told him to leave the prison—he said he was going to let us go. Rick didn't take it." She paused for a second before spatting the words, "He wanted to fight."
Beth gave out a small, rueful smile at that, "Well, I guess Carl's angry with him for nothing—" Beth muttered back, "When we arrived here, he was as furious as you are, for not fighting. For—um—how he said it—" Beth paused, "For growing his stupid crops and feeding stupid pigs."
"That's different—" Amanda said back, shaking her head again—though her words came out hesitant. Carl was angry with his father, Amanda had understood of course, had sensed it when she'd come between them, afraid of a shouting match—she'd had to…Rick couldn't have dealt with it at the moment—she stopped herself. They—they couldn't have dealt with it at the moment.
Amanda swallowed, "That's different," she repeated, bowing her head, "If we just left, none of this would've happened," she insisted, and paused a bit, "Your dad would've been here—"
Lizzie would've been here with them, as well. And Amanda would've thought how she was going to be keep the girl intact… She shook her head, "We—we should've just left. Instead he just stood there and made his stupid speech, told them how we all could live together."
"I understand you—" she heard then Beth say slowly, "But I think Rick did the best thing for us."
Her head snapped up again, "How can you even say that?" she cried out, "Your dad—your dad—"
Beth cut her off, "Would've understood as well—" Beth said, "You—you don't know how it was, Amanda. We couldn't have left the prison without a fight." Beth shook her head too, "None of us would've."
She gave out a deep, heavy sigh, "I—After our farm got overrun," Beth started talking then with a small voice, "Rick promised us a home, a place where we could be safe again, and he did, he found it, but it took a while." She paused, and Amanda remembered what he'd said about those months on the road…
My son almost ate dog food! I stopped him at the last minute and he got angry at me for stopping him! Amanda knew it'd been hard for them, but… "When we first came to the prison," Beth continued, "I couldn't even unpack for a month. I—I was so afraid, so afraid of losing it, I couldn't bring myself to think of it as…home—"
Her tears threatened to break, and Amanda lowered her head again, remembering the times back in her childhood—how it'd felt losing a good house on those rare occasion that she'd been landed on one. Dealing with worse was relatively easier, but knowing, experiencing how your life would've been, then losing it… It was so much crueler, and it hurt so much…cut so deeply… "I was so afraid of keeping up my hopes then be hurt that way again," Beth said, and her tears broke free again, Amanda couldn't even try to stop them this time, "and…and it was just easier to be afraid, I guess."
"Beth—" she sobbed.
Beth moved closer and hugged her, and Amanda hugged her friend fiercely back, and started crying even worse—like a…dam broke over her, and the flood—this time even worse swept over her—a myriad of emotions she couldn't even know how to name drowning her—and she felt—helpless…helplessly whirling inside a vortex, trying to stay above surface.
Beth's arms tightened over her further, and Amanda just cried more. It was—this was wrong. It—it'd been her who should've comforted the girl. She had lost her father, her home, and her sister was still out there. Amanda should've comforted her, given her strengthen, not the other way around, but she just kept standing in her arms, and cried, and Beth cried with her—so perhaps, they were comforting each other now. How—how she could ever know? She'd never had a friend before.
"Beth—" she sobbed out again— "I—I—" Her words stopped—She didn't know what to say, and "I'm sorry" seemed meaningless, felt empty over her tongue.
# # #
When the sun set down, they buried the man they didn't even know his name instead of their own deaths, but Amanda guessed it was the way of things now with their lives.
"I don't even your name—" Amanda muttered beside the grave when she was alone, holding a daisy tiara in her hands because she still should mourn in some way, had to say her goodbye… "But I hope—I hope you're at a better place now—" She paused, swallowing low in her throat, "If you're—please—please tell her—tell her I'm—" She paused, and swallowed again, "Tell her I—I—tried. It's—it's the least we all can do. I hope she…understands." She breathed out for a second, and said, "I'm sorry."
But this time it didn't feel meaningless, it felt—true, sincere… She bent down and placed the tiara at the freshly dug earth.
When she walked back to the house, Rick was at the porch, holding the railings, his arms wide open in front of him. His eyes were following her, too, as she climbed up the steps, then he looked at her directly in the eye.
He'd found somewhere inside a dark suede jacket. The nights were getting chilly. Soon the autumn would finish, and they would have winter. Suddenly she wondered if things were going to be like this, homeless, on an exodus, trying to find each other, trying to find…a home. Amanda—Amanda had never truly known what a home meant, as she'd never had one, but she knew the important of having a roof over your head, she'd seen how life ended up for people without a place. Homeless, desolate at the streets. She wondered then how it'd be surviving a winter on the road…or trying to eat dog food. Amanda knew desperation, knew of hunger—she'd gone to the bed with an empty belly in many occasions—but that—that was something else.
She felt—she felt so sad for the boy—and her eyes skipped at Rick. The familiar sadness was returning to her again, she...felt it—despite she was—angry? Good Lord, she had no idea what she was feeling anymore.
For a moment or so she thought of going inside, finding Beth again, or check Judith or Mika, or even Carl, she might just looking trouble staying alone with him—they—they always found a way to fight, always be at each other's throat, but somehow she did the exact opposite. She stopped and looked at him back, then walked over to him at the railings. She held the railings like he did and started watching the darkened lawn in front of them lined with trees.
She didn't speak, though, and neither did he. He just shot at her a glance, then turned his attention back ahead. She truly didn't even know what she was doing, standing just beside him in the dark. Everything—everything felt so—complicated.
And here they were trying to keep things simple.
"We—" He finally broke the silence a couple of minutes later when it'd grown so tense, like a solid, transparent wall between them, and cleared his throat a bit before he spoke again, "We should leave tomorrow morning as soon as Daryl comes back," he stated, words following after easily, "We stayed here too long. I don't like it."
In silence, Amanda nodded. All in frankness, she didn't like it, either, not only because of her former colleagues might come at any moment, but it—it was too serene now at the funeral home, almost…tranquil. It was so much easier to be mad at him or pretend he didn't exist at the road. Perhaps she should've insisted to leave with Daryl, be out there in the danger. When you were in danger, when you were out in the woods, so to speak, everything was just…simpler.
Not easier, perhaps, circled of all kinds of dangers, but just…simpler. You did what you had to when you were on run. There were no conflicts in you—no debates. You just did what you had to. Then again Rick had exactly done that, had done what he had to, and everything turned to a mess. I couldn't take the risk, he'd said, and a part of her had understood, as well, like Beth had done, she'd understood…she just couldn't…accept. They—they should've handled it better. There must've been another way.
His eyes skipped at her, and they lapsed into another silence. God, she really should go inside. Or better should've left with Daryl… But he'd said those words—told her he needed her, with that look and tone-and somehow her eyes on him, Amanda found herself nodding again. He—he needed her help. They were still supposed to be partners…weren't they?
All in honesty, she had no idea what they were supposed to be anymore, but she didn't want to ask that question, either, didn't want to open that can of worms. Nope.
So she started to make a move to go inside, but Carl came out just at that moment, his gun out, and gave his father a terse look, "I'm gonna make a perimeter check—" the boy announced, but Rick, understandably, shook his head.
"No need—" he told back to his son, and Amanda knew he was struggling to keep his voice calm, "I already did it. Go rest. We do it together the next time."
Standing where he stood at the threshold, Carl gave him a look, and Rick returned it with his own. "Carl—" his voice turned even smoother, but his jaw was set, his lips clenched, "Go in and stay with Judith." He paused for a second, and added, "Please."
"Fine—" the new teenager bit off in a hiss, as Rick stared at his behind, twisting aside.
After the boy went inside, Rick sighed out, turning back again, and tucked his chin toward his chest, his hands tightening over the railings, and he really looked tired—old and tired. "Do you—" Amanda spoke then hesitantly, asking, "Uh—do you want me to talk to him?"
He let out a small scoff, his head still bowed, "Why—wanna start a fan club? People who are mad at Rick Grimes for fucking up things?"
She glared at him, her ire returning… but she wasn't sure if he was bitter at them or at himself, "We might—" Amanda shot back.
"Yeah—" he muttered, and lifted his head up, shaking it, "I'm trying to play with the hand I've been dealt with, too, Amanda—" he told her then, his eyes trained ahead in the dark, "But whatever I do, it doesn't matter. The house always wins at the end."
And Amanda knew what he had meant. She nodded, "I know."
Then he said, turning to her, and his eyes held hers, and Amanda saw—not a tempest, but…a vast, boundless ocean…raw with emotions, and it took her breath away, "But I'm sorry, Amanda, I'm truly sorry what happened with Lizzie—" And he sounded…sincere, his sorry didn't feel empty or meaningless, either, but he confessed the same, "But I don't regret my decision," he continued, turning ahead to stare at the dark, and shook his head, "Not after what happened at the prison."
And she slowly muttered, "I know…" She did, she knew it, but still couldn't…accept it, "I reached at her. I talked to her—" Rick sighed beside her, "I did," she insisted again, "Lizzie—Lizzie was the hand we were dealt with," she told him, "She saved our lives. We—we should've handled it better," she repeated.
"Yes—" Rick accepted, too, and it…made her feel a bit better as well, his acceptance-She knew he couldn't risk it—couldn't risk his children—thought of Judith being closer to someone like Lizzie was giving chills even to her, but still, they should've dealt with the girl not like this…not like this… Rick then turned to her again, and stared at her intently, "And do you even ask yourself how it ended like this, Amanda?" he asked her, "Why I—uh—overreacted like that?"
She started at him back, her eyebrows knitting, "What do you mean?"
He shook his head a little with another little sigh, taking a step closer to her beside the railings, "You said we should've handled it better," he repeated low, "and I agree. And we could've handled it better, too—" His eyes bore though hers as Amanda looked at him, as he stated, "if only you talked to me first before you decided to act on yourself."
She blinked a few times, still staring at him—almost in shock— "Are you fucking—" she almost shouted—but he caught her elbow—
"No more yelling, Amanda—" he warned, "I don't want to fight with you anymore. I'm just stating what you did."
She looked at him back coldly, "You're trying to put the blame on me—" she hissed, her voice rising despite herself, because she couldn't fucking believe what she'd heard.
Without answering her, he nudged at her toward inside the house, "Let's go in—" He gave a wandering look inside, "This's not a good place to have this…talk."
She pulled back her arm off his grip, "I don't want to talk to you—" she spat, "Leave me alone."
He took a step closer, too, his eyes still on hers, "Look, I liked doing this as much as you do, but we need to talk." He paused, "Every time we ignore it, something happens."
"Ignore what?"
"Amanda—"
She shook her head, "I'm not having this discussion—" she was not…even though she had no idea what they were exactly discussing… That was a can of worms better left alone—safely kept close… Why he couldn't fucking see it, she had no idea.
She swiveled on her heels and stalked back in the house. She—she just wanted to be alone. Away from him—from his everything… she crossed the hall and started going toward basement. At the hall there were Beth and Carl and the kids, she couldn't see them right now, either. She just had to be alone—find her solace again—her balance…
She opened the door for the basement, where the stall air with formaldehyde inside, the metal slab now was empty in the middle of the room, no more dead resting in his final sleep… and Amanda stopped, holding the metal edge, she just wanted to be alone…but Rick followed… "Amanda, I'm not trying to start anything here. You're accusing me to cause what happened, and perhaps I did—but I want you to understand me, too."
"I understand you!" she sneered, twisting aside at him, "Don't worry about it!"
He walked closer to her, "Do you—I mean really? You completely disregarded me, Amanda. You say we're partners, but you didn't talk to me, you didn't even counsel to me. You just went and took her out." He took another step toward her and leaned at the metal slab as well, his eyes catching hers, "Do you have any idea how I felt when I woke up and realized you went outside with the girl after what happened yesterday? How much…I was worried—"
She cut him off, "For god's sake" she exclaimed, her eyes firing at his, "I am a fucking cop!" she almost shouted again, "I can take care of myself!"
But he shook his head, "No. I'm not talking about that—" he said, then paused, his eyes finding hers again, "It's different."
"How?" she asked back, "How it's different?"
He gave out a sigh, "Amanda today I walked over a gun for you—I reacted, I didn't even think on it, but we both know it wasn't just a reflex. I don't do reflexes anymore. I don't take the risks. And you know it damn well. I did it because I had to." She heard the words but meanings…they—were lost on her as she only managed to stare at him back, "I don't want to lose you, Amanda," he then simply stated, like it was the easiest thing whole in the world.
She shook her head, bowing her head, "This's wrong—" she muttered with a voice so low she wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself, and before she knew herself, the words left her, too, "We—you—you were moaning your wife's name in your sleep just last night!"
She swallowed, feeling the heat rising out of her—this time all for different reasons, and she swallowed again, her throat so tight, and she was so fucking tired… "I know. You told me about it this morning," he told her, and Amanda felt his eyes bore though her again, "Amanda—I'm trying to be open and honest with you here. If I ask you a question, would—would you do the same for me as well?"
She knew she should've said no, she just knew it, but he was really being open and honest, so she—found herself nodding—damn well feeling like she was walking into a trap with her own feet… "Did you leave the house this morning like that because you were mad at me and wanted to be away from me?"
She darted her eyes aside, playing the metal with her fingertip, "You—you're not an easy man to get on with, Rick—" she answered…tactfully.
And he frowned, "I don't want elusive answers, Amanda—" he warned, his voice strained as he tried to keep it placid, "Just be honest or don't answer at all."
"Fine—" she bit off, "Yes. I was—a bit stressed and wanted to…" She paused, not wanting to say she'd wanted—needed something else to focus her mind over the fact that how it'd felt hearing him moaning his dead damn love of his life, and Lizzie… "Lizzie… We had to deal with Lizzie. So I thought—" She paused again, closing her eyes, aware of how her words coming out…careless…ruthless… she'd wanted to help Lizzie… she had—She should've asked Rick too—but she—
She shook her head, so furious at herself, because she was damn aware where this was going, as well— what he truly wanted to ask… And Rick didn't surprise her, either, "And you were stressed because—" he asked, his voice still sounding placid and simple, "Because of what happened last night?"
Honesty, well, they were being honest here… She raised her eyes at him, "I didn't…like it," she then said.
His eyes fixated at hers, he let out a sharp breath at her admission, the fact that she didn't like hearing him moaning his dead wife. His eyes darkened a shade darker blue, too, glinting, then he gave a her small nod in acceptance. "Okay. I understand. We—" He cleared his throat, his voice now not placid, but rough around the edges, "We—we—uh need to talk about this—thoroughly, I think—" he roughed out, "But I—I can't do it now. Not right now. Not before I put it back together. We'll then—"
She shook her head, cutting him off, "Rick, stop. I just—didn't like it. There's nothing to talk about. It's just a…feeling. No big deal."
After her words, he glared at her, "You—you started a mess, Amanda, because you got jealous of my dead wife and I walked over a gun for you, but you're telling me it's no big deal?"
Her face stiffened, and she'd already started hating this talk, "I'm telling you what it's—just a feeling… Feelings pass. They happen. We—we've been through a lot together—and there's this—tension between us. It—might've started playing on us—" She paused, frowning, a sudden thought crossing her mind, "It's perhaps just sexual tension."
His jaw clenched, he took a step in on her, "Are you telling me I risked myself for you because I'm…what…horny?"
She retreated at his advance, his eyes now holding a tempest, getting angry, "No. I'm—I'm—" she stumbled on the words, feeling truly at lost—then she decided on honesty again, "I—I truly have no idea what I'm saying right now," she confessed.
"Then allow me clarify it for you—" he said before he grabbed her at the upper arms and pulled her closer. A split of second later, he leaned down and pressed his lips on hers.
He—he was determined, it was the first thing came to her mind, as his tongue demanded an entrance into her mouth, persistent, relentless in his assault, his arms tightening over her as he pressed her against his chest—
For a second or so, she thought of stepping back—this—this was wrong—they couldn't do this…whatever the hell it was…He was in love with another, a dead woman—with his loving memories from a different time—but he was really persistence, and demanding, and she felt again like they had been fighting, and he was leading, and—it was really so easy to follow him—so her mouth opened—inviting him almost on its on account, then he caught the back of her neck, brought her even closer to himself. He angled his head, and started kissing her—truly…
And then Amanda learned how a girl could die of a kiss.
It was nothing like their first kiss—nothing gentle—nothing tame, or tender. He was on charge, proving his point, and he was doing it damn well. She felt—felt like she was drowning again—feelings…a myriad of them twirling through her insides…and she wanted to tell herself it was no big deal, but Amanda had never been one to delude herself.
Amanda Shepherd never ran away from a fact, and right now she was just…living through one, and fact that it wasn't just a feeling—and a part of her felt scared like she'd never been before.
Though, she still kept kissing him back—sometimes a girl just couldn't help herself. And goddamit, she had never been in kissing that much anyway…
She tightened her arms over his neck, and started wondering where this was going, a terrible tug throbbing deep in her insides, something missing in her…clawing at her with need, and she felt it—the need—deep in her inside…the need to feel him…inside her.
She almost made a move, the feeling inside her beating like a heartbeat, but as abruptly as he'd started, Rick stopped. He pulled back from her an inch, and gave her a look.
Too dazed to talk, Amanda looked at him back as he stared at her intently, "I hope this has clarified my intentions clearly, Amanda," he remarked, and even though his tone was still rough, he managed to sound calm.
Her eyes struck at his, she gave back a little nod—not knowing what else to do, "Uh—okay."
"We'll figure this out—" he told her with a certainty, "When I put everything right again. Find others, find us a new home, then we'll talk. Until then—" He paused for a second, "Promise me you won't die on me, okay?"
She let out a small laugh, "Okay—" she whispered back, "I promise." Her eyes raised at his again, too, "You?"
He nodded, "I promise."
She nodded back, "Good." A shiver passed over her, and she rested her forehead over his shoulder, and his closeness felt good, too, felt…like she wasn't alone… and despite everything she was just glad to be here, glad to be with him, and it was what she'd accepted. "I—I'm still mad at you, Rick—" she remarked then, but added, lifting her head up, "But—I—I understand. I don't…accept it, not truly, but I understand."
"And I'm sorry, too—" he mumbled, "A part of me…a part of me feels even…relief. I know it's sick and cruel, I know I'm cruel, but I can't help it, Amanda. I just can't." He paused again, sadness in his eyes, and same weariness she knew like her own, "I couldn't risk it."
She nodded again, "I know." She paused, "I told Lizzie about the first time I killed someone," she told him then, too, "I wanted her to understand, to know the difference…bad people, bad things. It's...okay to feel relief, I guess. He was a drug dealer—a very rich one, just kept bailing out bribing right people. His last kill was an informant. The guy was trying to come clean, had a kid on the way. He got him killed. When the sonofabitch died, I felt relieved, too—not proud of myself, but I was relieved, even glad that he couldn't hurt anyone anymore."
His hand touched at her cheek, looking at her with that look again, and she ran her eyes away, and shrugged. "Your code—" Rick then stated, his eyes catching hers again, "You said—you gave her a code. What was it? What did you tell her?"
"Well, it had to be something simple—no need to get things complicated—" she said, feeling a shyness coming over her as Rick smiled at that, and it warmed her insides, "We kill the dead and doesn't hurt the living unless they try to hurt us or others."
He nodded, "It's a damn good code, Amanda."
"I know…" she muttered back, "Simple and close to the point. Just how I like my…things."
Rick made a small noncommittal sound at that, and only leaned forward to find her lips again, and Amanda thought—she…she really could've gotten used to this, getting kissed by Rick Grimes.
She still had no idea what was happening, aside then something definitely was happening, but she trusted Rick. They were going to figure this out, like he'd said. Then…then…well, she had no idea what would happen then, but for the first time in her life, Amanda didn't care all that much about...unknown. She had him now—Rick who was struggling with this as much as she did, but they were going to figure it out—together. She knew they would.
So Amanda just leaned over him closer, and let him kiss her—this time gentler, tender—just like their first time—and the smooth wave of serenity that was spreading over her as his lips played with hers calmed her down even further. She looped her arms over his neck, and wondered what they were now, but then pushed that thought away too. They were what they were…
Two people who tried not to die on each other, living the other behind with a mess—and for now it was going to have to be enough. The rest, they would see, together.
She pulled back an inch and his hand passed over her open, loose hair over at her shoulders, gently stroking her locks, and something close to a purr poured out of her as he did. Amanda wondered how it would've been sleeping in his arms—just after having sex—satisfied and content, laying over his chest as he held her tightly just like how he'd done protecting her against a bullet with his chest…
The image was so powerful—so vivid, it felt like that moment when he'd moaned his children's names in his sleep—just before he'd moaned his dead wife's name—
And as if someone had thrown at her a bucket of cold water, Amanda remembered, and the reality kicked back in.
Whatever feelings he might have for her, Rick was still in love with another one—and she was just being stupid…just being stupid.
Stiffening, she pulled away from his embrace, and Rick gave her a look, as if understanding something had happened…and it had—the reality had happened… And she almost opened her mouth and told him it was madness—they were…mad—doing this…the stress and strain of the last days had made them snap, surely, because she couldn't see any other explanation why she was daydreaming about sleeping—just sleeping with a man who was in love with another.
But she couldn't do it—because she heard the scream just before she opened her mouth and told him.
"Arghh!" Beth yelled over from the upstairs, "Walkers!"
They exchanged a look first for a split of second, then they both rushed at the door.
So, so stupid.