After Rick left with that clean boy scout, Daryl stayed on the porch. Joan was still there, leaned against the railing, watching Rick leave with a skeptical look, her dark eyes narrowed. Daryl wasn't sure if he liked the look. Joan was a weird woman, withdrawn, but also brutally open, while still being laid back in a way. Besides Carol, Michonne, and Shepherd, she was one of the rare women who had actually managed to surprise him a few times. There were times in the woods when Daryl suspected she was going to throw in the towel and admit defeat, like the time he'd made her eat a mud snake and then snails, but each time, Daryl was…surprised.

The moment of her hand in his came to him suddenly, but Daryl shooed it away. He didn't know shit about what it meant, why she'd done it, why he'd done it, or why he had even told her about that childhood memory. His eyes found her again as she still watched Rick walk, her expression thoughtful.

She also did that a hell lot. Watch them, Rick and Shepherd. She swept a look at him, turning aside. "What happened?" she asked. "Did they have another fight?"

Daryl shrugged. If he started counting the fights those two had, he couldn't get shit done all day. "I dunno. They came out of the den like that."

"I thought they made up after last night."

Daryl shrugged, remembering how he'd interrupted them this morning in the den. "They might've tried…" he drawled out. Joan gave him a look. "Busted 'em," he said, perching in the corner of the railings. "Aaron was waiting."

He rested his back on the beam as Joan gave him another look. "Well, let's hope this finishes soon, Amanda gets her shit back together, and starts screwing him again before he blows up."

Daryl stared. Joan shook her head with a sigh, coming closer to the corner he was perched on. "Now, don't tell me you haven't noticed she's been running away from him like a plague for weeks."

"Yeah—" Daryl gave her a half nod. He'd noticed, but he had also noticed them slipping away each night after midnight… "But they were—"

Joan cut him off. "They weren't having sex. Read the signs—" She imitated his tone when he taught them in the woods. "Besides I sort of asked her once. She admitted it. Said it's too much." She paused. "But I think she meant he's too much."

Too much information, way fucking too much information. He cleared his throat. He didn't want to know fuck all about Rick's rom-com melodrama. "It ain't our business."

The look Joan gave him back was not one of humor or disinterest. She looked as taciturn as when she'd informed him that she wasn't going to fuck him to compensate him for their lessons. "But it is," she insisted. "They're all over place. I don't want them to blow up in our faces. They need to cool off."

There was that thing with the woman, too. Just Daryl started thinking that she actually had a kind, gentle heart, Joan managed to sound like a selfish bitch.

She reminded Daryl a bit of Carol, too, more like a brazen fire, when she'd admitted that she'd wanted to escape Grady because she was fearing her boyfriend was going to kill her, or she was going to end up killing herself, but something told Daryl that he wouldn't have been surprised if she killed the man instead at the end. Sometimes Daryl also wondered if Carol would've ever snapped with Ed, if things were different.

Joan sighed another time and added with a barely audible voice. "Rick doesn't look like a guy who would take a breakup well."

In those words, Daryl felt it, too, as stark as it was, fear. Joan was afraid. She was afraid that Rick would behave like her former asshole bastard for a boyfriend. Darting at her a look, Daryl shook his head. "Nah. Rick ain't like that."

"Amanda told me that once, too," she replied. "But things…escalate."

"Nah—" Daryl opposed again. "It ain't the cloth he's cut from."

She held his gaze for a second before she let out another subsided sigh. "Well, I guess I should trust your judgment on the issue. You seem to be good on that." Their eyes found each other as Daryl shrugged away the compliment.

He didn't know what else to do for that, so it looked like the best idea, but then she remarked, "You were right about Carol after all."

His eyes snapped to hers again. She gave him a small, tight smile. Daryl stared. "So what happened?" Joan asked, turning her head aside.

She had pretty curls, Daryl noticed. Long, almost silky, if they were not caked with dirt, mud, and small pieces of leaves. It wasn't the first time Daryl had noticed it, of course. He wasn't an idiot, even though he acted like one sometimes. Joan was a pretty woman. He only didn't realize what…pretty hair she had until now.

He made a low sound. "Rick—uh—we were talking about the houses. He mentioned Lori," he explained. "Shepherd heard it."

"Lori—" Joan asked. "She was his wife, right?" Daryl gave her a half nod, and she continued. "Ah. I guess it explains."

"Uh." Daryl shrugged, feeling like he was doing something he never did, gossip about people's love life.

Daryl never cared. He made jokes, even crude, snide remarks time to time, but he never cared who fucked who even when they turned it into a disaster like Rick, Lori, and Walsh had done before. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps if he did, things would've been different. That thought caused him to struggle a bit, but at least there wasn't anyone else involved with Rick and Shepherd this time to worry about.

"It wasn't bad." The words left his mouth, and he was fucking surprised himself before he went on. "She said maybe we could clean themselves first before the interviews. Rick said he didn't give a fuck—" He paused. "In nicer words."

Joan rolled her eyes, then shook her head. "But maybe we should. We don't look very…presentable."

Daryl lifted a shoulder. "I got nothing to prove."

Her eyes darted over to him again, and they shared another quick look. Daryl thought he should stop it, because he felt like— Inside, Judith started crying. He twisted his head aside to the screen door. "Lil' asskicker woke up."

A brief smiled touched at her lips. "I'm shocked that she actually slept until now."

Daryl let out a low chuckle as Carol stepped out to on the porch beside them. She looked…refreshed. Over her pants, she had a cardigan, a clean one.

"By that temper, one would suspect she's a Dixon, huh?" Carol asked, smirking at him.

Joan missed the hidden meaning of her words, but Daryl didn't. "Wrong man to make a jab, Carol."

Carol smiled sweetly. "I know."

Daryl eyed the pink cardigan she was wearing. "Where the hell did you find that cardigan?" he asked.

"Upstairs," Carol supplied. "There are some clothes inside the closets. Nice stuff. They left it here. The house seems like a getaway escapade for the weekends."

Daryl tried to imagine how it would be having a house like this as a hole up place. He didn't say it out loud of course. He only shrugged once more. Carol looked outside. "I wonder if they'd mind us taking a tour," she mused.

"No one said we couldn't—" he pointed out.

Carol fixed a finger at him. Judith ceased crying inside. "Right." Carol turned to the door. "Mika, I'm going out," she called inside. "Wanna come?"

The little girl stepped out brazenly, holding the doll Shepherd had brought to her as tightly as she always did, but suddenly hesitated at the threshold.

Fidgeting, her gaze cut inside the house. "Can I, Amanda?" the girl asked. Daryl couldn't hear the answer properly, but when Mika took Carol's hand with her free one, he understood she was cleared for some expedition. Carol turned to them. "You two coming?"

They both shook their heads at the same time. Carol's eyes narrowed for a fraction, a quick, fleeting thing before she relaxed. Daryl watched them walking away as they left the porch, still hand to hand. People had started coming out slowly from the other houses. Daryl saw a girl around Joan's age in sports attire making laps in the track, her blonde ponytail swinging in the wind as she ran…

Joan's eyes trailed towards the girl, following his attention before they moved back to him. With a darting look, Daryl could swear he saw a touch of scowl at the corner of Joan's mouth. "Last night—" she remarked suddenly, turning her attention completely to him. "Last night you didn't want me to come. Why?" she asked.

The question took him by surprise, and Daryl started at her… again… A cross expression shifted over Joan's face. "Don't you trust me out there to guard your back?"

Trust her to guard his back? Daryl hadn't even thought of that. He never had anyone to watch his back, not truly. There was Merle, but Daryl always knew he could never trust his addicted brother to be there for him. He trusted Rick. He trusted Carol, but…

No. Daryl had always been there for them, kept them safe, not the other way around. For Joan, he just hadn't wanted her…to endanger herself.

Another conversation he had long ago in the prison almost found him, but Daryl shoved it away. "No, you did your part. Bob 'asn't been doing no shit. It was his turn."

Joan nodded placidly. "Okay. This—" She gestured with her head. "This wouldn't change anything, right?" she asked. "Between us." His eyes snapped up to hers, Daryl spied she was losing her cool attitude. "Uh-I mean what we've had—" She paused again, breathing out. "I mean—you—you still want to teach me, right?" Daryl sensed a subtle unnamed fear in the question as he realized she was suspicious he would want to stop. "I can show you stuff, too, if you want. You know how to treat a wound, but—"

Daryl cut her off. "Nah—we're good." he assured her simply. If she wanted, she could show him stuff, but he didn't want her to feel as if she had to, as if she was in his debt. Somehow the notion just bothered him. "It ain't like I got anything else to do."

The smile she gave him in return was a big one, and Daryl realized in that moment, Joan also had a very pretty smile.

# # #

Sitting on the couch with Judith on her lap as the baby girl tried to crawl away from her like she usually did, Amanda watched Mika leave with Carol. Mika strolling in this town irked her, but she told herself the little girl wasn't alone. She was with Carol, and Amanda had to learn to let it go now.

Mika needed Carol, not her. In the ways that Amanda wasn't capable of, even with their last talk in the barn with the older woman, Amanda couldn't deny that fact. Her gaze fell to her hands, recalling the way Carol made shadow puppets. Judith tried another escape attempt, sliding over her thighs, making those small baby puffs as Amanda held her and gently towed her back onto her lap.

Her eyes darted down, and she checked the rugs covering the hardwood floor. She wondered if they were clean enough to for Judith to crawl on. The room was littered with their stuff, and the floor seemed clean enough. She wanted to try, wanted to see if Judith could manage it. They'd tried it before a couple of times in the woods over their bedrolls. She settled the baby girl down on the rugs. Carl and Beth found her as she did.

They'd been making another tour of the house. Beth gave Judith a look, walking towards them. "You're making her crawl?"

Amanda nodded. "Seems clean enough. She's been trying for a while."

Beth nodded. But instead of trying to pull herself up on her hands and knees like she'd been doing all the time when they tried to keep her restrained, Judith just shifted herself upright and sat down on the rug. The cute thing stared at her owlishly.

Amanda smiled, shaking her head. "I swear she's doing it on purpose."

Beth and Carl smiled, too. Amanda looked at the baby girl. She was going to have to eat. There was a bit of smoked squirrel meat from last night they'd saved for Judith for the morning. They'd turned it into minced balls. They also had berries, but the baby's diet was those for weeks.

Amanda wondered if she could go and find Aaron to ask for some food. Or diapers. The diapers that they'd found for Judith in the town when they'd gone to the food bank were finished weeks ago. A couple of times they found baby bags in the cars and once in a cabin, but in the end they had to switch back to the makeshift diapers Amanda prepared weeks ago. There were still a couple of clean ones she washed for the last in the creek. But if these people had babies or toddlers, would they share those supplies, too? Toys, baby stuff?

The thought almost made her go and find out, but she sat tight. She wanted to wait for Rick. The things were tense between them as it was, so there was no need to make it…more strained. Perhaps she just should go and take a shower.

She really couldn't understand why those damn interviews couldn't wait until they started to feel like she didn't know…human beings again? Making them go there when they were like this?

It was cruel. The woman, Deanna, possibly wanted to get a clear image of them as they arrived in the town. Amanda got it. It didn't make her feel any better. She didn't need this shit!

Far worse, all of it had started reminding Amanda a bit of Grady. Let's hope Deanna ain't in the league of Dawn.

God! She feverishly hoped she didn't force Rick to get into another nest of vipers. That tingling she'd felt with Aaron was still inside her, not a blazing alarm that made the hair on her back stood, but that buzz was resonating in her.

She tried to calm herself, trying to reach to the calmness she felt as Rick held her against his chest. But it only made her worse as she remembered how she rejected him again. First a wisp of anger, then stark hurt in those clear blue eyes before he hid it. But what the hell was he thinking? Were they going to have sex in that little room while all their people were sleeping in the living room? While Carl was just beside them! Judith! Beth!

He'd said he wanted to sleep a bit, rest. Amanda wanted to, also. Last night was the first night in weeks she didn't wake up in his arms before dawn. The first night she didn't sleep with him. She missed him. But dammit! She wasn't ready for that yet! She didn't even know why! His hand went to her belt, and she just panicked again. Panicked about sex! How pathetic was that!

Her eyes roaming over the place, her thoughts from last night found her, what Rick had told her. Amanda twisted her head back and looked at the door, seeing a glimpse of the staircase that led upstairs…towards the bedrooms. I really can't wait to spend a whole night with you…

She whipped her head back.

Nope. Nope. Nope. That was thoughts for later. She was going to cross that bridge when she saw it. Perhaps she was even fretting over nothing. Perhaps Rick wouldn't even want to share a room with her. He'd just said he couldn't wait to spend a whole night with her in the same room alone. He didn't make a specific timeline, didn't say all nights.

There was Carl, too, who still looked at them with a sour expression like they ran over puppies whenever he saw them together. Nope. They couldn't do it. Carl wouldn't like it. And Beth—Beth needed her. Amanda had to be there for her. Beth couldn't stay alone. She had promised. She'd promised to Maggie she would always be there for Beth. She wouldn't leave Beth alone.

Yes. She was just being silly again.

"I want to look around—" Beth announced suddenly, standing up. Amanda closed her eyes for a split second, holding back a tired sigh. "You coming?" Beth asked Carl.

Carl nodded and started getting to his feet, too, before Amanda interrupted them. "No. Both of you. Sit down. No one leaves until Rick returns, and we finish these interviews."

Beth gave her a pointed look. "Carol did."

"Carol is like a fifty year old woman—" Amanda countered. "You're seventeen. Sit down, Beth."

"Almost eighteen!" Beth protested, her voice showing off all of her ire.

"Almost doesn't make you an adult magically," Amanda bristled, her tone getting terse, too. For once, just for once, it would be nice if Beth just listened to her without a protest.

All in honesty, it wasn't only her relationship with Rick that was suffering. With each passing week, the tension between her and Beth had increased. A day didn't pass before they started bickering.

Her eyes blazing with a blue fire, Beth gave her a cold look in defiance. "I don't have to listen to you—" the teenage girl seethed out.

The correct answer would be perhaps admitting it, but Amanda didn't want to. "Beth, sit down," she repeated instead and tried to find a common ground. "When Rick comes back, we'll look around. I want to find some stuff for Judith, too."

"I don't want to wait—"

Amanda almost uttered out what Rick had informed her, that want didn't always get but held it back at the last moment. Perplexed, she looked at the teenager, but help came this time from an unexpected place. "Maybe Amanda is right—" Carl remarked, clearing his throat. "Perhaps we should wait until Dad returns."

Color her shocked, but Carl actually sounded like a sensible child. "Uh—yeah," she muttered as Beth exclaimed: "You slipped away in the prison on our first day, Carl!"

"Yes, I did," Carl replied. "But it doesn't make what I did right."

Her ire directed at Carl now, turning away from Amanda, Beth slanted a seething look at him and stormed over to Noah and his gang. Carl stared at her back.

Amanda turned to Carl. "Uh—thank you," she said, not knowing what else to say.

Not looking at her, Carl settled on the rug beside Judith. "You were right," he said slowly, holding his sister's hand. "We should wait."

As Judith started wheezing louder, a smell wafted up. When the baby raised her tiny arms up to them to pick her up, Amanda realized she had pooped. Carl eyed his sister with a squinted look as Amanda stood up and bent down towards her.

Whenever Amanda wasn't with them, it was usually Rick, Carol, or Beth who changed Judith's diaper, so Carl really looked alarmed.

Judith almost jumped in her arms before Amanda scooped her up. "It's okay. I got it," she muttered, half hiding her face beside the crook of Judith's neck. Usually when she took care of Judith, Carl also tended to get lost, so it felt a bit weird. It was one of the things that was easier being in the woods, Amanda realized, too.

Being inside the same house was going to make avoiding each other harder. With that thought, Amanda realized how much they'd been avoiding each other. But it wasn't something she wanted to dwell on at the moment, so instead, she took the baby with her backpack from the couch and started walking towards the bathroom. Her hand felt a bit of wetness under Judith's bottom as she climbed the first step of the staircase.

It was okay. They had spares. They'd found two sets of baby pajamas two weeks ago in another hunting cabin, not too thick, not too thin, perfect for the climate. Judith still had her faded pink cardigan and blanket from the funeral home, so the clothes weren't that much of a problem. They'd manage.

When she was in the middle of the staircase for the bathroom upstairs, Carl's voice stopped her. "Amanda—" Propping Judith against her hip as the baby wrapped around the crook of her left elbow, Amanda returned. "C-can you—uh show me?" Carl asked, giving her a sheepish look. "I want to learn."

For a second or so, Amanda couldn't understand what she'd been asked to do, then the next second, the penny dropped. But still for a moment, she stared at Carl, couldn't wrap up her mind around the idea. She taught guns and knives, how to duck, how to run zigzags, how to block a coming attack. Carl had never even been to one of her classes in the prison. Amanda had never showed him a damn thing before. Now this?

Changing his baby sister's diapers? The idea was so strange, so bizarre, so…mind blowing, she couldn't help but open her mouth and gawk at him like an idiot. Carl's expression shifted. "Forget about it—" the teenager brattled. "It was a stupid idea."

Regaining her senses, Amanda cried out before he made a move to turn. "No!" She paused, heaving out a short, hitched breath. "I—I'm sorry. Of course, I can," she finished lamely as Carl stopped in his retreat. "Please, come," she added when he didn't move.

Carl must've believed in her imploring tone because he restarted climbing the steps. The master bedroom had an en-suite bathroom, and downstairs had a powder room tucked beside the den and pantry, but the main bathroom was the first door at the left side of the landing hall. The master bedroom was in the small part of the house, too, at the farthest corner at the right side, facing the bathroom. Angling the bathroom, a few meters away beside the master bedroom, there was another bedroom. The third bedroom was at the other side of the hall.

Three bedrooms, one main shared bathroom, one en-suite bathroom, one powder room, and a small parlor. The thought of sharing of the space rattled her cage again, but as Carl walked beside her, Amanda held on her nerves.

The bathroom was big enough. It had a shower and a large jacuzzi bathtub at the same time, having a luxurious layout. Like the rest of the house, it was carefully decorated with delicate furniture Amanda had only seen in magazines or on TV before. All of the town was the same so far, much like she expected; the luxury lifestyle she would've never imagined herself to live in—

Before she could stop herself, the words flashed in her mind. Lori used to dream about us living in one of them one day.

God, it hurt. It still did, even after what she'd learned, even after everything they'd been through, even after she knew how Judith was alive and breathing now, it fucking hurt, and she fucking hated it. Hated that she felt like this and the fact that she couldn't help her own damn feelings!

It came like a blow to her guts, a hard, cold stone dropping in the depths of her stomach. That was the life Rick used to dream about with his wife. The life they could've had if things were different. What would Amanda have had? Just a couple of meaningless, mindless quickies when she felt herself bothered or bored enough to get laid—and her goldfish.

This could've been Rick's life, but not hers. Never. The truth almost made her drop on her knees and started crying again. Maggie's words turned in her mind with Rick's in a loop: I want more. This isn't a living. Lori used to dream about us living in one of them one day.

She made a sound. Suddenly breathing had become such a chore, with no breath left in her lungs. "Hey—you okay?" Hearing Carl's concerned voice brought her out of her semi panic attack.

Amanda breathed out deeply, focusing herself on the tiles to calm down, her fingers gripping Judith tightly. She—they needed time. Time.

She heaved out another breath. "Yeah. I'm okay. Just tired—" she sputtered out. "Couldn't sleep last night."

"Me too—" Carl admitted.

Amanda jerked her head in a brief nod. "I think none of us did for real," she replied as she headed for the sink. "It's understandable." She checked the marble surface and felt the cold under her touch before she twisted aside towards the teenager.

"Can you check the shelves?" Amanda asked, gesturing with her head the cabinets on the wall. "They might stash some towels here. The marble is too cold for Judith."

Carl nodded. "Yeah." He opened the first cabinet next to him and found it empty. They got lucky on his second try. He took out a soft, sturdy white towel that looked like it was for hair drying. He handed it to her. Amanda shook her head and gestured again at the sink. "Lay it down over there."

"Now this might be better if we do it in the bed," she remarked. "But Judith pooped a bit," she continued with a smile. "Without a proper changing table, things might get a bit…messy."

She made a mental note to ask for a bassinet or a crib with a changing station for Judith. For the quick tour they'd made in the house last night, Amanda couldn't see one. Judith needed one. Amanda lay Judith down on the towel after Carl finished his job.

Amanda eyed the shower as well, before she started changing. "Can you check the water?" she asked. "If they have hot water up here, too, we might give her a quick bath for her bottom."

Judith would like that. They cleaned the baby girl whenever they found enough clean water after warming it over a fire, but it was never enough. A couple of times, the baby even had chaffing from diaper rash, which made Amanda feel like wanting to kill a few walkers in anger.

She wondered while lowering the baby's pajama bottom if they might also have talc powder or something for baby skin care, at least some kind of oil. She peeled off the wet garment as she gestured Carl again at her backpack. "There are clean diapers inside. Can you pass me one?"

Carl found one from her pack and handed it to her as Amanda threw the dirty, wet pajama bottom onto the tiles beside and half under the sink.

Carl neared her as Amanda drew back a little when Judith was free of her pants. "Okay," she started with a voice she hoped was reassuring. "I know it looks frightening, but it isn't that hard," she continued. "In fact, it becomes much easier after a few tries. I was changing diapers when I was ten or something."

Carl's head snapped up at her. "Really?"

Amanda nodded. All in honesty, changing diapers was the easiest thing with the babies. There were far more stress inducing and helplessness triggering stuff, like infant gas, cutting teeth, fever, and the nights after they had their vaccines. Or simply being babies, crying whenever the mood struck.

Come to think of it, given their circumstances, Judith wasn't even that much of a challenging baby. Amanda had seen worse. She had a temper, but she wasn't a gassy baby. She hadn't started cutting teeth fully yet, but Amanda guessed that was going to be an experiment they all were going to live through together now.

She started unfastening the clips. They were tiny fishing hooks they'd found. After boiling them in the water, Rick had turned them into the little clips to pin the side of the diapers. Amanda showed Carl how to relieve the baby as clearly as possible, giving him tip notes.

"Admittedly, girls are a bit easier," she remarked, unlatching the other clip. "With you boys, the risk of getting pee in your face is bigger." She laughed as Carl looked frightened as he understood her. "So not to take the risk, always cover her bits as much as possible. Though, at same time, you just have to roll with it."

"Can she do it?"

"If she stays undiapered enough, or if she wants," Amanda admitted. "There's no guarantee. Perhaps it's more like a reflex that they feel when they find themselves free of clothing or diapers."

"Has she ever done it to you?"

Amanda laughed. "Once—" she replied. "I'm usually quick enough, but well, like I said, it happens to everyone."

"The first time it happened, I was like ten, I think. It was around my first time," she started recounting as her hands began pulling the makeshift diaper from under Judith. "It was a newborn boy. Our foster parent was a lady who was pregnant herself, and she couldn't find any energy to do anything. So we used to take care of the little one mostly. I opened his diaper, and he just peed in my face," she said, turning her head aside toward Carl, a small smile over her lips. "I was so shocked, I cried a full hour."

She disposed of the smelly, heavy cloth diaper inside the bathtub's edge as Carl made a face. Amanda wiped the baby's bottom with toilet paper from the bathroom. As she tugged Judith's pajama top up over her belly, she twisted half to the teenager again. "Your father said you peed in his face once—" she commented, still smiling. "Said he was shocked, too."

"Really?" Carl asked with widened eyes.

Scooping up the baby girl, Amanda nodded. "Yeah." She jerked her head at the shower. "Turn on the water. Warm. Not too hot. Never wash babies with hot water. They don't like it."

"I don't like it, either."

"That's very convenient—" Amanda shot back with a smirk, throwing one leg inside the shower, holding Judith again around inside the crook of her elbow as she took the shower head with her right hand.

Carl arranged the water's temperature and Amanda checked the spray at the back of her wrist. "Always check the temperature on the inside of your wrist and over your forearm," she explained further. "Especially with formula and such. If it doesn't hurt your skin, then it's safe to give it."

The teenager nodded. Together they washed Judith's bottom side as the baby girl squeaked happily. Judith was one of those babies who liked water. Carl bundled her in another towel after they finished.

When she lay Judith down on the towel, Amanda stepped aside and let Carl handle the clean diaper. She warned him twice. The first time was for wrapping the sheet around her too loose. "If it's loose, it'd seep through her thighs and groin. Would chaff her skin."

The second time was because he folded her too tight with the clips. "No. This is too tight. You'd give her a tummy ache."

The third try was the charm. He did it correctly, and Amanda gave him her okay. "Well done. We're okay now."

Carl eyed the diaper in the tub suspiciously. "What's gonna happen to it?" he asked.

"Leave it there—" Amanda replied nonchalantly. "I'm gonna deal with it later."

Carl's eyes widened, catching up with her. Amanda wondered what he thought until now. That they'd picked diapers off the trees? "It—I—" He stopped for a second before he concluded. "You don't have to do it. I can do it."

They shared a brief glance, before Amanda leaning down, held up Judith again. "No, I don't," she replied.

The truth was she didn't have to, but she wanted to. She'd said once that she genuinely cared for them, and she hadn't lied. She could do this for any child who needed her help, but there was a part inside her growing, whispering at her that they weren't any children, they were Rick's. She wasn't sure what that meant, so she gave the teenager a soft smile. "Let's go."

When they started downstairs, calmed down, draped over her shoulder, Judith started playing with her hair. Amanda thought of the food inside her pack when Carl suddenly asked before they stepped out in the corridor. "Will you start your classes like in the prison again?"

The question took her by surprise as she looked at Carl. She didn't know. She didn't have any idea what she was going to do. What she was going to do with her life now. I prowl, scavenge, kill rotters—

She shook her head, stopping the mantra. "Uh. I don't know. Aaron mentioned Deanna would appoint us jobs," she replied, deflecting the question. "I don't know what she would want me to do."

It wasn't a lie, although she had a very educational guess what she would be entitled to in the end. Doing legwork, like she had always done. Take watches, go on patrols, participate in supply runs, kill rotters, take out the trash…all the usual stuff.

She was a cop. That was her job. Serve and protect. She was a foot soldier. They gave her orders, and Amanda saw them done. Amanda Shepherd got shit done, no questions asked. There was a reason why even Gorman wanted her back in the end.

But none of it gave her a clear answer what she wanted to do. She would say she would like to train people, but she didn't know. She felt like she needed to train herself, too. She'd fucked up big time after the prison. Total uselessness. The helplessness she felt in the woods alone when they thought Rick had sacrificed himself to save them—

The despair in the depths of her stomach, or how she couldn't do shit when they claimed Beth and forced Carl on her. She could never let that happen again. They weren't safe. No one was ever safe. Never take anything for granted.

Her thoughts started twirling away, and shaking her head, she pushed herself out of it. She breathed out and turned to Carl. "Why do you ask?"

Carl shrugged, leaning over the staircase's railings. "I don't know. If you start again, I thought I might join up this time."

The thought gave her another panic, much like she'd felt first when he asked her to show him how to diaper the baby, only tenfold worse. She swallowed. "I—I don't know," she muttered. "It's too early to talk now," she went on, deflecting again. "We talk about it later, 'kay?"

Carl nodded.

Without any further talk, they fed Judith, then left the living room when it became crowded as Judith started making a fuss. Beth joined them this time, still giving her a cold shoulder after their last bickering. Amanda pretended not to notice.

Outside, they stood on the porch and watched the waking town. Judith was still with her. Carol and Mika returned a few minutes later. Standing between them, between her people, Amanda tuned out the small talk, instead just looking at the town.

There was a young woman in the streets, slender, tall, beautiful, her hair fully up in a ponytail, a woman Amanda envied strongly. Though it wasn't because of her looks or the blissful way she looked like she didn't have a single care in the world. No. Amanda felt jealous because the woman was doing the only thing she wanted to do right now in the whole world.

Her feet barely touching at the red tartan, the woman was running.

# # #

"Were you out there since the beginning?" was the first thing Deanna Monroe asked.

Rick raised his eyes and jerked his head in half nod as he settled himself in the armchair gingerly, wondering what kind of a game they'd started playing. "Yeah—"

"How did you all find each other?" she asked further. "Did you know each other before or—"

Realizing where she was going with it, Rick cut her off. "We didn't know each other before. Some of them-we've been together since the beginning," he stated with a firm, stern voice that he hoped that would get his message across loud and clear. "They're my family."

Deanna nodded as if she did. "Aaron said you were a sheriff's deputy," she remarked. "Where was it?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," Rick replied. "Who I was, what I was, it doesn't matter anymore." He paused before adding, "You should ask who I am now."

How many walkers he'd killed? How many people he'd killed, and why? Those were the questions that mattered now.

The old woman in return gave him one of her smiles again; gentle, kind—trying… It started pissing Rick off. "I'm getting there. But first I want to know who you were."

"Why?"

The woman's blue eyes found him before she answered after a brief pause. "I was a congressperson before. From Ohio. My family and I were trying to get back to our hometown so we could help with the crisis," she started recounting. "The army turned us in one of the back roads. I lost my staff and my detail on the road that day. The army directed us here. They were supposed to come back—" She paused, letting a deep sigh, her words trailing off as she stopped fully. "They never did," she began a couple of seconds later, her voice adopting the cool placid tone again, collecting herself. "But we had supplies here, so we made the best of it."

"The wall—" Rick made a gesture with his head pointing outside. "Did you put it up yourself?"

In some places inside the twenty feet tall walls that circled the town, there were shorter masonry walls around three or so feet that possibly had protected the complex's perimeters before the turn. They were lined with the trees and the height differed as Alexandria was set on a slope. It reminded Rick Shirewilt Estate's walls that had been destroyed. It was a good thing that Alexandria had thought to reinforce their walls, the only redeeming point Rick had seen with these people so far.

"The walls of the town were shorter," Deanna answered much like Rick thought. "We thought it would be better if we put up higher ones. The access gate was open, too. We knew we had to secure it. There was this huge shopping mall being built nearby with structural steel beams and plates. My husband, Reg, was an architecture professor at Georgetown University before this started." The old woman slid over on the couch for a few inches to get closer to his armchair, leaning forward before she gave him one of those smiles again. "And you see who he was before mattered a lot."

Rick's eyes found her again as the woman continued smiling as if she had won a victory, and by the look of the things, Rick had to admit she had.

The plans, the books he'd seen on the table, Rick recalled, and realized they were still planning. He tried to read it as a good sign too. "We put the first beams up with my sons. It took days. We had help. People came. It wasn't easy," she went on. "In fact, Reg wanted us to use concrete material instead of plates, but we couldn't. Didn't have that much manpower, but in the end, we managed."

Rick had to agree with that, too. "Yeah, you did—" he replied, but shook his head, remembering Terminus, remembering what path the good intentions had brought to them. "But you don't understand. You have to protect what you have," he warned the woman. "Because it's all about survival now. At any cost. There are people out there who will do anything to survive." He paused for a second. "Sometimes even for fun."

"They look for how to play on your weaknesses," he continued. "Measure you by what they can take from you. By how they can use you for their own benefit. So bringing people into a place like this—"

"You're telling me you can't be trusted?" Deanna asked, staring at him curiously.

The look Rick gave her back was ad stern as his voice. "Last night you took nineteen people in. Sent us to the houses. If we wanted," he stated in blunt frankness. "We could've hurt you last night."

"My sons kept watches all night—"

"Three men at the backyard, two across the street," Rick interrupted her curtly. "Two of them slipped off, fell asleep even before dawn. One just slacked off. The other two—" He shook his head. "Wouldn't have been enough. You shouldn't have let us in. You can't know if I'm to be trusted or not," he concluded with the same blunt honesty.

But Deanna smiled at him again with that smile. "Rick, that's what we're trying to figure out," she replied pointedly. "Don't misunderstand. I don't trust you. I trust Aaron. I trust his judgment. And Aaron says you're still trying to be a good man—"

"Aaron doesn't know me," Rick countered, cutting off her again. "I've killed people. I don't even know how many by now." He'd stopped counting long ago… "But I know why they're all dead. They're dead so my family, all those people out there, can be alive. So I could be alive for them."

It was the truth he'd admitted to himself under moonlight that night, and hearing himself admitting it to another person, to a stranger aloud felt like a confession, and Rick didn't know what that meant.

Deanna let out a small laugh, shaking her head, her smile still gentle. "It sounds like I wouldn't mind being one of your family."

His head whipped at her after the words, snapping out of his reverie as Rick looked at the woman.

Deanna shook her head. "But you still don't understand," the woman continued. "You're skeptical. I understand that. We all have to be." She moved over on the couch an inch closer again. "I'm optimistic, Rick, but not stupid."

"That wall you see—" She gestured at the window. "We couldn't put it up without help. We needed help. We still do." She moved closer even further. "Do you really want to know why I let you all in?" she asked, staring at his eyes openly again, as blunt and frank as him.

"Because you need us," he stated plainly. Because everyone had their own agenda now, the woman in front of him wasn't different either. But at least she was honest.

Deanna nodded in agreement. "I gave Aaron a job. I told him to bring me a sheriff, and he brought you back. Now tell me, what kind of a leader would I be if I gave one of my people a responsibility and then didn't listen to him?" She fixed him with another look, but this time there was no trace of gentleness on her expression, no trace of decorum.

Rick held her stare.

"A leader must know his weaknesses as much as his strengths. I can't do everything myself. I need people to keep this place safe and secure. I'm not stupid," she repeated again. "I know we're not prepared. And that's why I let you in."

"What happened?" Rick asked then because he knew something did. "What did you do?"

"What makes you think I did?"

His answer didn't change from the last time Rick had this conversation. "Because we all did something—" he replied simply. "If you want me to trust you, you have to tell me."

Deanna nodded. "Fair enough. His name was Dave. He was one of the first comers. A big man, with big muscles, with a no-nonsense attitude. Ex-Marine." She laughed, but it was a bitter one as she shook her head. "Must've built the half of the wall together with his pals. Three men. They worked hard. They killed the dead. They did stuff." She paused for a breath. "I'm not going to lie. The wall wouldn't have gotten finished in time without their participation. He protected us. Kept us safe. But it got to him, I guess." And Rick knew the rest of the story. He'd heard it many times now.

"Let me guess—" Rick reflected. "They got unruly, uncontrollable, and you wanted them gone."

Deanna sighed again. "We have single ladies here. Some of them are even mothers. More exposed than the others." His face turned stiff. "I learned they started taking advantage of it. Told them to stop. He said they weren't doing anything—without consent. Told him we had a different opinion on the subject." She cleared her throat. "Long story short, I asked them to leave. He was so full of himself, he thought I couldn't do it. Wouldn't dare."

She laughed again with that sternness, no trace of gentleness. "We set them up. Had them all tied up. My son—Aiden—he's the chief of security now—was outside with his team, but we couldn't wait. We had to act quickly. Aaron, Eric and Spencer—my other son—got them out to the woods."

Before she continued, the leader paused, and she looked…tired. As tired as Rick. "Things didn't work out well. They must've freed themselves. They attacked Aaron, Eric and Spencer. I almost lost them that night in the woods. They're good boys, but they shouldn't have had to deal with the likes of Dave," she told him openly, then it happened again. Her expression lost its firmness, and that gentle, kind smile appeared. Rick understood the smile was her mask. "You see why I need a sheriff now?"

Rick made a sound. "You should've just killed them when you captured them," he countered, standing up. They should just kill the sonofabitches when they had the chance. Rick had learned his lessons.

A cold chill ran inside the room since the first time he'd come inside. Deanne's face lost her mask again as she stared at him in the eye. "We don't kill people here, Rick."

Rick made another sound and started walking out.

Deanna's voice stopped him. "We still need to ask you a few more questions."

He turned around. "More questions?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "I think I answered enough questions for one day. If it's about job assignations—"

"We can talk about job assignations later," she cut him off. "In any case, you should have this week off to cool down," she continued. Rick gave a brief nod. The downtime would be good for them. "But—" Deanna went on, "Aaron mentioned one of your companions having a…cure—"

This time Rick interrupted her. "That's a whole different discussion for another day," he stated firmly. He couldn't talk about Ford's mission right now.

Deanna nodded. "I see. Okay. We do it later. But we still need to ask a few questions." She turned to Denise. "Denise, please."

The psychologist cleared her throat. "I just need to clear out a few personal issues. Like your birth date, where are you from, your blood type, relatives, etc."

His jaw squared again. "My birth date, and where I come from don't matter," he repeated. "I'm A positive, and I have a son and a baby girl. Carl and Judith."

The blonde woman nodded, quickly taking notes. Rick saw the paper in front of her was full of notes. "Yes. Aaron mentioned," she muttered before asking. "No wife?"

His scowl deepened. "No," he replied. "She didn't make it."

"I'm sorry—" Rick gave a terse half jerk of his head as he saw Deanna watching him closely again out of the corner of his eye. "Children's blood types?"

"Carl is A positive like me, but we don't know about Judith."

The psychologist made a quick note, bobbing her head. "It's okay. We've got blood tests in the infirmary. We can find out," she remarked and asked again before Rick could even open his mouth. "No more family members?"

He sent a glare at the woman. Why did he have to repeat himself… "They are my family."

The psychologist made another note. "Anyone you might want to specify?" she inquired further as Rick fully glared. "We're open here to any kind of relationship."

"It's none of your business," he snapped. He had nothing to hide. Rick had never wanted to hide anything with Amanda, even from Carl, but he wasn't going to talk about his romantic life with these people. Especially that one.

Not taken aback, the psychologist nodded. "Is there anyone you would like to appoint as a guardian for your kids?"

If anyone asked that question before Rick would have broken their jaws, knocked out their teeth, but as he remembered what Aaron said, he just shook his head. "No. They know themselves."

She knew herself, but Rick didn't want to tell them that, either.

It wasn't their business.