The next day started with relative easiness.
They were still huddled up in the living room, cuddled together like hippies. The thought almost brought a smile to Amanda as she stirred where she was curled up beside Beth on the floor on their bedrolls and the quilts they'd brought down from the bedrooms. Carl and Judith were tucked between her and Rick, with Carl closest to Amanda and Rick's baby girl held protectively close to his chest where she'd been since he came back from watch.
Rick had a habit of keeping physical contact with his children whenever he lay down to rest, as if to make sure they were here with him. Even with her, he did the same after they drifted into sleep, keeping their bodies as close as possible. A few times, Amanda even caught him listening to their breathing, just like that night when they'd come back from the woods after getting Carl back. It was the time that Amanda liked the most, silent and peaceful, touching each other.
Silent and peaceful. It reminded Amanda again of last night and how good it felt.
She stretched a bit, raising her hands where she lay, a smile curving up her lips an inch. It still felt nice. She wondered if the easiness she felt was a remnant of last night, the way Rick had made her relaxed. She wouldn't mind getting…relaxed a few times more like that. Perhaps even more… But she really wanted to enjoy this thoroughly, this sweet calmness, not rush into it. It was something so new to her, she wanted to experience it fully. Wanted Rick to do stuff for her, cook for her, take her to…a movie. Perhaps they could even make out, forgetting about it.
This was it. The thing they'd always said after admitting they had feelings for each other. Where they could try and see. It buzzed her insides with an energy that didn't seem adequate or proper, so Amanda tried to quell it down, sitting up—
Her eyes caught sight of Beth.
Suddenly her mood dampened, and she felt like she was doing something she really shouldn't—like she was betraying Beth. She shouldn't feel like this!
Maggie. They'd lost Maggie three weeks ago, buried her upon a ridge. They'd wandered in that hell for weeks, spent, that damn vulture circling above their heads, the dead lingering behind them. Which one of us are you here for? Her question echoed in her as Rick answered: We tell ourselves we're the walking dead.
The memory made her so sad her bursting positive feelings dimmed in a bleak dismay, like someone covered a light inside her with black tulle. The light was still there under the blackness, but so out of reach. Rick caught her movements as she stood up silently.
"Hey—" he called out to her in a low voice. "Ya okay?"
She gave him an absent, brief nod. "Yeah…"
Rick got to his feet, too, carefully resting Judith on Carl's chest, leaving the cushioning the baby mission to her sleeping brother. Judith had made a fuss last night again until Rick settled her on his chest.
"I want to take care of this before the others wake up—" Rick motioned his hand over his beard. "Coming?"
Amanda thought of last night and swallowed before she shook her head. "I saw oats," she declined. "I'm gonna make oatmeal. You, go ahead."
Without waiting for a reply from him, she turned and trotted towards the kitchen. She placed the oats they'd brought yesterday on the counter and put water into the kettle. She'd never liked oatmeal without milk, but in the supplies she also found powdered milk. There were dried fruits and nuts, too, so it wasn't too bad. Beggars cannot be choosers, she almost told herself again, but suppressing it, she forced it away from her mind.
Sasha and Joan joined her before the water boiled, whistling. "I wonder where the owners of this house were…" Sasha muttered while Amanda stirred the porridge in a pot. "The house is decorated, but not enough with personal stuff. I wonder if they ever lived here."
Amanda knew what the woman meant. The houses were lacking any of the personal touches that accumulated when people lived in a place. They were full of furniture, and the drawers had necessities, utensils, and clothes. There were even some photo frames they'd dutifully hid in the drawers, but there weren't any personal items lying around or outdated newspapers or magazines.
Even her own sterile, one-bedroom small apartment had that kind of personal stuff before, things that indicated that someone lived there regularly, even though she didn't have any photos on display or in her drawers.
"Some rich man's escape from D.C—" Amanda remarked absently, remembering what Rick had said about Beatrice. "Never lived here truly, but kept it well furnished."
"For which I'm eternally grateful," Joan quipped, giving her a smirk. "I can't wait to try those beds—" she said further. "When will we start sleeping upstairs?"
"I don't know. Perhaps it'd be better if we stay close for a while."
It was still something Amanda wasn't looking forward to. Joan darted a look at her but didn't comment. "We're still not sure of this place."
Joan only gave a half nod before she started cutting up a few dried figs and mixed them with raisins for the oatmeal. Carol stalked inside the kitchen, followed by Abraham. "Is this…" the big, muscled redhead sniffed, raising his head. "…cinnamon I'm smelling?"
Amanda made a loud sound. Cinnamon. It smelled—heavenly. "Yes, cinnamon and oatmeal."
"Sweet baby Jesus—" the man muttered as Rick walked in—
And Amanda stared… He—he'd shaved his beard fully.
There was no trace of facial hair anymore on his face, he was clean shaven. His jaw protruded even stronger, more prominent, his jawline looking like it was neatly chiseled. He looked so different without the long, scruffy hair covering his face, Amanda couldn't almost recognize him for a moment. Even in the prison, he always used to sport stubble, sometimes trimmed, sometimes not, but always there.
Although she had no idea why, something bugged her in a way because she couldn't be sure if she liked it or not. It wasn't what she'd meant when she told him to cut his beard. Perhaps her mind just couldn't work around a beardless Rick Grimes.
"Wow!" Abraham bellowed in the sudden shocked silence, as Amanda also realized she wasn't the only who must feel like this. The others were staring at Rick in the same fashion, too. He'd changed his brown tee shirt to a denim blue shirt he'd probably found in the house.
"I almost couldn't recognize you, Deputy," the ex-soldier remarked before he gave Rick a wicked smirk. "Ha, you really were hiding a Hollywood face under that bush, huh?"
The glare Rick gave the man was enough to chill an entire continent. Amanda perhaps would've called his look less…edgier if Rick wasn't still having that sharpness in his gaze. But no. He wasn't softer, just…different. Ignoring the sergeant, Rick walked to her.
Her eyes closed momentarily as she drew in a breath and took in his scent, this time only him without his usual extra layers… earth, woods, sweat, and blood. It was just him with fresh soap…mixing with cinnamon. She felt her head turning. "Cinnamon?" he asked like each newcomer to the kitchen, standing at her side by the counter.
Amanda nodded. "You shaved it all?" she asked, stirring the pot, her eyes moving up to his clean-shaven face again.
Rick shrugged. "I don't know. I was going to trim it. Then thought…why not?" He paused. "It was too long to do it properly." His eyes searched hers. They looked the same; keen and penetrating as always. "Don't you like it?"
"It looks different."
Rick chuckled lightly. "I never used to have a beard before. Always clean cut."
Amanda nodded again but didn't say anything because suddenly her chest tightened. Perhaps he just wanted his old self back. She swallowed lowly, words from yesterday finding her again. Lori used to dream about us living in one of these houses one day…
She stirred the oatmeal slowly, bowing her head.
They ate breakfast, having tea or coffee along with the oatmeal, and started talking about their interviews. It'd taken too much time yesterday that they couldn't do it properly, or they just hadn't cared enough. But it was a new day now.
Her eyes darted to Rick, his new look… Amanda moved her gaze away.
Less than fifteen minutes later, it became obvious that none of them was actually appointed to any job yet. "She wants us to cool down first," Rick explained as Amanda took another small spoonful of her oatmeal, searching for raisins as she half sat on the stool.
They were still six of them: Abraham, Carol, Sasha, Joan, Rick and her circling the kitchen island, some on the stools, some standing. The rest of them were still in the living room, either sleeping or just resting.
Amanda didn't like to get too crowded. She even thought of going upstairs and finally take a shower after breakfast. She still needed to look for some sheets to make diapers for Judith. After a thought, she'd thrown away the dirty, makeshift diaper yesterday. She could find some real diapers around here or at least make new ones from sheets. They were too old, much too used now. Or perhaps she could just go and ask Aaron. On the other hand, she also wanted to know what the others had talked about with Deanna. Especially what the sergeant had talked about with Deanna.
Rick was eyeing the man as he took the last bite from his bowl, measuring him, as if he thought the same. Amanda didn't know how this going to D.C. thing would work now, but she knew one thing for sure, just like he'd told the sergeant before.
Rick wouldn't want to leave until he was sure the kids were going to be one hundred percent safe after they left. At that moment, Amanda also realized that there might be a good possibility that he would choose not to take the risk. Rick had never believed in the cure, not really. She'd always felt Rick only agreed in the end because they wanted it and because they didn't have any better option.
And now that they had it… Sasha shrugged, swallowing down her own porridge. "Well, I don't particularly oppose that."
"Me neither—" Joan agreed. "Though she told me she wanted me to be in the infirmary of the town. They have a surgeon. I'm to train with him."
Well, that was expected. Joan was a fully trained nurse who used to work in the ER. It made sense. They nodded. "Bob, too—" Sasha supplied in for her boyfriend.
"I told her about the mission," Abraham declared. They all turned to him. "She said one of her supply teams is on a long-planned supply run, but when they come back, we might talk about it."
"When will they return?" Rick questioned, settling his finished bowl on the countertop.
Abraham gave a shrug. "She wasn't certain. About two or three weeks, I think." The ex-soldier paused, letting out a grumble. "Although I ain't sure if we should wait that long—"
Rick shook his head, cutting him off. "No. We have to make sure everything is safe and secure with this place first," he asserted just like Amanda had expected.
Abraham's jaw set, but before he could speak, Rosita sauntered in the kitchen. "I think we don't mind waiting for a few weeks, get back on our feet—" the Latina turned to her boyfriend. "Right, Abraham?"
The man gave a curt jerk of his head. "Aye."
Rosita made a sniff too. "Is this cinnamon?" she asked. Amanda almost sighed.
"Yeah—" she said, waving her hand at the pot. "Oatmeal with dried fruits, nuts, and cinnamon. Help yourself."
The Latina padded towards the stove eagerly as everyone started minding their own business; some just left the kitchen, some started doing the dishes.
"Hey—" Amanda walked closer to Rick as out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joan carrying a small bowl outside and wondered if it was for Daryl. "Why don't you go find Aaron and ask if they have baby stuff?" she asked Rick, turning her attention to him again.
Her eyes caught his long wet dark curls that brushed his neck. Without his beard, their visibility had become more pronounced, too. "Diapers, clothes, baby products, toys, books," she went on, her eyes still fixated on his hair. "Perhaps a mini crib—" Her hand shot up before she could stop herself, and she passed her fingertips through his wet locks. They were so…silky between her fingers now, who knew perhaps he'd even used some conditioner. He smelled so good.
She moved a step closer, murmuring. "She's become too much habituated to sleep with you. Needs her own bed."
"Yeah." Rick neared towards her too, his eyes turning a darker shade as Amanda gently started massaging the nape of his neck, his scent filling her nostrils…so good, he smelled so good… "Do you want me to cut it, too?" Rick asked with a rough voice, leaning into her touch.
Amanda shook her head. "No, leave it be," she breathed out throatily and murmured, "I like it like this."
Rick took a step further in toward her. Her hand curled up around his neck. Rick dipped his head as Amanda raised on her tiptoes.
A soft baby wheezing reached them. They both flinched back, Amanda letting her hand drop as she slid a step back and turned aside from Rick. His baby sister scooped up in his arms, Carl crossed the threshold, his face expressionless, only mouthing a small, cool 'morning', not looking at them.
Judith just made her soft baby noises. Amanda pointed to the stove. "There's some oatmeal left," she said. "And tea."
Carl nodded briskly, walking over to the stove. Rick cleared his throat a bit. "I'll go find Aaron. You coming?"
Going to look for baby stuff with him? She swallowed. She really wanted to find stuff for Judith, especially a children's book to read her, like she had thought in the woods, but... Even from where she was, she could see Carl's ears straining. And people had already started talking.
"I need to take a shower," she uttered. It wasn't a false excuse, either. It was a fact. She needed to take a shower, to prepare. Maybe take a patrol and check out the town more. They still hadn't done it properly, had been dawdling around yesterday.
As if reading her mind, Rick nodded. "We need to talk with Deanna again. I want to know everything about this place's security. The watches, the patrols, the shifts. Their numbers. Their arsenal."
Amanda bobbed her head almost absentmindedly. There were so many things to discuss. She couldn't even imagine the precautions and safety measures Rick would demand until he was settled down and deemed the town protected enough.
The weeks they passed in the wilderness after Maggie died had only increased the levels of Rick's paranoia. Amanda wished she could say he was overreacting, overbearing, but she knew better. Her gaze caught Carl and Judith again. "Yeah. After you come back, we round up and go to her."
The rounding up usually meant a gathering of Rick, herself, Daryl, Abraham, Carol, and Sasha now: a sort of council like they had in the prison. Sometimes Glenn participated too, listening to them in silence, but mostly he still kept to himself.
Rick gave another nod before he walked out of the kitchen. In silence, Carl came to the island and sat on one of the stools, setting Judith across his lap. Amanda circled around the counter. "I can take her—" she said, reaching up to take the baby girl from him. "You eat in peace."
Carl nodded. "Thank you."
Amanda tucked the baby girl on her hip and questioned Carl. "How was yesterday?" she asked, trying to make some small talk. "Rick told me you made some friends."
Later in the night when they'd come back after that rather…weird encounter with the man on the porch, Beth and Carl had already gone to sleep, so they wouldn't have talked. Amanda had slipped beside Beth then over the quilts and bedrolls, trying to lure herself into sleep. She hadn't managed easily.
Across from her, on the other side of the kids, she knew Rick wasn't any different. She knew he was still awake even when she'd finally drifted into sleep. Amanda suspected he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night. Rick hardly slept anymore these days. Just stood guard on watch or lay awake until she slipped into his arms. He usually massaged her strained muscles first when she did, then let it go for a little while.
Carl took a spoonful of the cold oatmeal and shrugged. "They were okay."
"They were ridiculous." Beth sashayed inside, her lips holding a grimace. "Never seen outside the walls even once."
There was spite in her voice and enmity that sounded so…unlike Beth. Amanda barely held herself back from pointing out that a few months earlier, the teenager had been much the same.
"Maybe their times haven't come yet," she lowly muttered and pointed at the stove again as Beth scowled further. "There's oatmeal. Help yourself. I'm taking a shower."
She walked out of the kitchen. Inside the living room, she started looking for Carol to pass Judith to her, but couldn't find her. She approached Joan. "Hey—have you seen Carol?"
The nurse pointed upstairs with her head. "Brought Mika to the shower—" she answered.
Ah. Well, it sounded like she lost her chance. Her mind briefly went to the sharing again, nineteen people, two houses. Three bedrooms and two bathrooms per house. Not to mention the one was in the master bedroom. God, getting ready in the morning was going to be like hell. The powder room downstairs would take a bit of the load, but there was no shower there. Yet, it was still better than what they'd had in the woods. Nothing.
She flicked a look towards the hall and wondered if she could go and shower in the bathroom in the master bedroom before Joan remarked; "The girl and boy that came yesterday dropped by. They're waiting outside. They said something about school. Where's Carl and Beth?"
"In the kitchen. Having breakfast—" Amanda said and turned to go to check it, remembering Jessie's words yesterday.
The woman must have sent her son before the school like she'd promised. Amanda took Judith's faded pink cardigan from the hallstand beside the door and draped it over the baby for the morning chill before she stepped out on the porch, leaving her own jacket still on its peg.
Outside, a girl who looked like a smaller—shorter and tinier— version of Beatrice Reese stood with a dirty blonde teenage boy. She was clad in an attire even worse suited than Rosita, a plaid pleated mini skirt, stockings, and such. She looked around Carl's age, and the boy around Beth's, sixteen or seventeen at most. "Hey—" the boy greeted her.
"Hey—" Amanda greeted them back as the blonde girl looked at her under her bowed head with a…bored expression as she inspected her long, manicured burgundy nails.
On closer look, Amanda realized the girl was wearing a sort of private school uniform. The plaid pleated skirt was dark navy, and so was the fitted jacket she wore over a white shirt, trimmed with burgundy edges. Around her neck, there was a dark green ribbon bowtie with a brooch, and on her chest, the jacket bore an emblem of a private school Amanda had never heard of. On her feet, the girl even wore black pumps with two-inch heels. Her silky blonde hair was lush and straightened, even down to her perfectly modeled bangs that framed the sides of her forehead.
They were ridiculous, Beth's words passed in her mind, but Amanda tried not to let prejudice cloud her judgement. Rosita's attire was as inappropriate as the girl's, but Rosita had proven herself quite capable. But they were going to school. The girl probably still wanted to hang onto a sort of normalcy in their crazy life. Amanda would be the last person on earth who would judge anyone for that. She was quite obsessively attached to her own uniform.
At least what she had left from it. Only her combat pants, combat boots, her holster, and her boot knife. The rest was all lost now.
On her close scrutiny, the girl's eyes, mossy green like Amanda's, moved up openly, and she gave Amanda a look before she flicked her gaze towards Judith. "Carl said he had a baby sister—" she spoke with a sort of placid tone, as if she was really as bored as she looked. "Are you his mother?"
Amanda's expression stiffened, wondering if the girl was just trying to be bitchy because she stared or was genuinely curious. Somehow Amanda couldn't decide. "No—" she replied simply.
The boy checked his wrist. "Are they coming or not?" he asked. "My mother told us to pick them up."
"They are eating breakfast." Amanda turned to the girl. "You must be Beatrice's sister." She couldn't remember the names. Rick had mentioned them, but she was too caught with Beth to give any notice.
The girl gave an indifferent nod. "Yeah. Clarice—" she introduced herself. "This is Ron."
Amanda slanted a look at the boy. He looked like he took more after his mother than his father they saw yesterday on the porch. "Why don't you tell me where this school is?" Amanda asked. "I'll send them there when they're finished."
It was Clarice who answered her inquiry again. "We're all in the community center—" She pointed with her head at north, then her tongue loosened, she started chattering a little bit more easily. "In different levels. Eric usually has our class. For today, Reg will fill in in his place. Heard he got injured in his leg when they brought you in."
Her look was questionable as much as her tone, but Amanda ignored it. "Yes—" she brushed it off and started turning to leave. "Thank you for dropping by. I'll let Beth and Carl know. They will bring Mika too."
Leaving them, Amanda walked back inside. She wondered if every introduction was going to be like this. She found Carl and Beth in the kitchen and told them their new friends were waiting for them at the school. "I'm not going to school—" Beth shot back as soon as the words left her mouth.
"Yes, you are—" Amanda said. It would be good to her, to be around people in her age. Getting to know new people. Beth always liked people. But the teenager shook her head.
"No. This is ridiculous—" she repeated. "Going to a school—"
"I'm just saying go and see it—" Amanda cut her off, whisking her head away from Judith as the baby girl tried to take a hold of her hair. "They say there's a junior class for the younger kids. Mika would like it. Take her there. Make friends."
"I don't want to make friends!" Beth bit off, raising her voice, and jumped from the stool as the same time Judith mimicked her. The baby girl threw herself aside over Amanda's crooked elbow. "I want to start training again. When will we start?"
"W-we just came, Beth—" Amanda answered with a voice she hoped was cool enough, hoisting up Judith again in her grip. The baby girl just couldn't stay put for a second!
"You were solving murder mysteries after a day in the prison!" Beth exclaimed at her face.
Amanda blinked as Judith lobbed herself at her side again. "Beth—"
Without another word, Beth stormed off out of the kitchen. Amanda stared at her retreating back. She might've looked very…helpless because Carl stepped down from the stool and gave her a look. "I'll talk to her," he told her, and he sounded enough…level-headed. "We'll take Mika too."
Amanda nodded. "Thanks."
"You'll take care of Judy?" he asked her.
Amanda nodded again wordlessly as Carl left the kitchen.
After that, with Judith still trying to break free from her, Amanda slumped back on the stool Carl had vacated and heaved a deep sigh.
# # #
"Hey—" Leaving the house, Carl jogged after his friend. "Hey—Beth—"
They both stood on the porch, looking at the town. Daryl still must be around the back, as Carl couldn't see him. A quick peek to his left, around the corner, revealed him. He was sitting on the little steps of the deck in the backyard, his back leaned against the corner of the beams. Joan was standing on the other side as Daryl ate the oatmeal in that quick way as if he'd never eaten anything at all in his life before.
It always amused Carl; the way Daryl ate. His mother always used to warn him not to eat too quickly—his mother. Carl forced his mind away from the thought. His mother wasn't here anymore. There was nothing left from her now, not even a single photo.
When Carl saw the house, the first thing his eyes caught was the framed photos. He'd lost his mother's photo again. Judith wasn't really going to know what their mother looked like anymore. His thought spiraled further, them almost kissing again and that thought brought up another one before Carl stopped himself. His father thrusting in her repeatedly, rapidly against a tree, his hand covering her mouth, his other hand holding her wrist above her head.…
It was a memory Carl would never ever want to remember, but each time he saw them sucking face, he couldn't help it, the image assaulted him. "This is ridiculous—" Beth murmured angrily, shaking her head.
Carl shrugged. "Yeah—"
"Does she really expect us to go to a school?"
"Dad mentioned yesterday that we should check it out," Carl replied. All in honesty, he felt it was ridiculous as well. "I don't think they know it as well. Just do it." Beth shrugged. "Mika would like it, though—" Carl added offhandedly.
"Yeah—" Beth finally agreed with a sigh.
Carl gave her a look. "We going?"
His friend sighed again. "Fine."
Carl could almost hear Amanda's frustrated tones in Beth's voice when she said the word like that. It was funny because no matter how cross they were at each other now, Beth had started sounding much like her. "Go grab Mika—" she ordered him.
Carl tilted the edge of his Sheriff's hat towards her as he turned. "Yes, ma'am." He heard a faint giggle behind his back as he walked back inside.
He looked at Mika who sat between Carol and Joan, playing with Judith on the rugs. "Where's Amanda?" he asked.
"Went to take a shower—" Joan replied. "Are you going to school?"
"Yeah—" He waved over Mika. "They say they got a junior class. Amanda told us to take Mika, too."
Carol nodded. "Okay. But be careful."
Always. They were always careful. Carl bobbed his head a little as Mika stood up dutifully. They started walking towards the community center together. It was a large white building that faced the large pond. They'd made the full tour yesterday with Ron and Clarice.
Their new…friends, well, Carl couldn't decide. They were fine, but sometimes it felt like they were making fun of them. But they were good hosts. They'd showed them everything. The fitness center and swimming pool were inside the center, too. The swimming pool was in the basement as the fitness center was on the first floor. The long windows of the saloon were also facing the pond. The treadmills were just in front of them so you could enjoy the view while you ran. There were a couple of other studios as well, they had seen a boxing studio and some weird stuff Clarice had called as a Pilates reformer machine.
Outside of the center, there was an open patio, and outdoor garden furniture and rows of tables and gazebos were lined up around the ponds in a small groove. In the pond, there were even some ducks. Carl listened to their quacks again, craning his head aside. Tucked on the first floor at the other side, there was the small daycare of the town, too, and its kindergarten. Carl would only imagine Judith's joy upon seeing the place.
Ron and Clarice were standing in front of the building with a tall, blonde woman. "Hi—" the woman greeted them. "I'm Jessie. Ron's mom—" she said, "And you must be Carl and Beth." They nodded. The woman looked down at Mika with a gentle smile. "And you, Mika. I teach the kids—" she said further, holding up her hand to Mika. "You wanna come and meet your new friends?"
Tightening her delicate grip in his hand a bit, Mika turned to him. Carl nodded at the girl. "It's okay. Amanda and Carol said you can go."
Slowly, Mika took the woman's hand. Jessie turned to her son. "Reg will be here soon. Don't stay outside too long."
Ron bobbed his head halfway and watched as his mother walked inside. As soon as she vanished, he turned to them and pointed with his head. "Let's go."
Carl frowned. "Where?"
His new friend tossed him a look, almost mocking. "Where's your sense of adventure, Grimes?" he taunted as both he and Clarice started walking around the pond.
Sharing a brief look with Beth, they turned, too, and followed. They circled the building's backside and arrived at a secluded gazebo that faced the woods behind Alexandria's great wall with a small view of the pond.
Clarice quickly went inside the wooden gazebo and perching on the deck, she crossed her legs.
Carl's eyes shifted. Her legs were very long and slim, and the sheer black stockings… Carl couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a woman wearing stockings. The image—the image stirred something in him. He felt himself…hardening. Quickly, Carl turned his gaze away, a heat rising in him. Clarice's green eyes spotted with dark honey dots turned to him as if she caught his blush.
Ron fished out something flashy of his pocket just at that moment, and Clarice reached out beside him.
Cigarette. Carl understood the next second.
Clarice pulled one from the package Ron was dangling in front of her. "Nicholas brought them from the last run—" she explained.
Carl didn't have an idea who Nicholas was, but he wondered if the others knew he was bringing teenagers smokes. Ron took one himself, too, before turning aside, he offered the pack to Carl.
He stared at it. Clarice's laughter ringed in the air. "Don't tell me you haven't smoked before."
The way the girl uttered the words made him feel weird, and Carl reacted. He reached out, but before he could take one, Beth's hand crossed his, and grabbed one of the cigarettes out of the pack. She pulled it free.
Carl shot her a look. Ron turned to her. "You smoked before?" he asked, putting the smoke in between his lips.
"No—" Beth said. "But it was on my list."
"What list?" Clarice asked, placing her own between her lips, too. Carl took one for himself and did the same as he noticed her red painted nails were long and round.
"The things I need to do before I die—" Beth answered with a shrug as his hand momentarily halted.
Carl slanted a look to her as Ron leaned toward her further with his lighter to light her cigarette first. "Yeah—" he muttered through the smoke. "Got a list like that myself, too."
Beth smiled before she took a breath—and started coughing.
Both their new friends started laughing. Carl took a breath, bracing himself, but he couldn't help it either. He started coughing himself .
"God—" Beth bristled, taking off the cigarette, "This is as awful as alcohol—" she murmured, looking at the lit thing. "Why do you even smoke?"
Clarice shrugged, taking a drag from her cigarette. "I don't know. Probably because Beatrice wouldn't want me to." She gave them a smirk.
They both laughed. "You got a drink, too?" Beth asked, smirking back.
Clarice turned to him. "Carl—" she rolled his name over in her mouth, her voice sounding…silky. Beside her, Beth's brows tightened. "Your friend's trying to get us in trouble."
Carl took a puff from his smoke and managed to hold down a cough this time. "You've made us smoke."
Ron and Clarice laughed. "Guilty as charged," she muttered, pulling another drag from her smoke, her honey-flecked green eyes on his.
Carl felt himself starting to blush and angled his head, tilting his hat. "That hat—where did you find it?" Ron asked.
"It's my dad's."
"Have you ever killed one of those…things out there?" Clarice asked, looking at them.
They both shrugged. "Yeah."
"Are they disgusting?" He couldn't be sure, but Carl picked up an…interest in her voice.
"There are far more disgusting things than 'em—" Beth slowly answered before Carl did, taking another breath in. He shot her another look but didn't say anything.
There was nothing to say. She was right. The night under the moonlight tried to come back to him, but Carl didn't let it. He forced the memory away, but Ron suddenly pointed at Beth's right hand as she held the cigarette.
"Your hand—" their new friend looked at her wound. "What happened to it?"
Beth dropped her hand and opened up her palm, the smoke still burning at the end of her fingers. She lifted her eyes up at them and smiled sweetly. "Oh, this—" she remarked, her voice sounding almost…airy. "It's nothing. There were these men in the woods one night—" Her eyes stared at them as her smile froze on her lips. "They nailed me on a car to force Carl to rape me."
Their smokes forgotten in their hands, their new friends stared at them.
Silently, Carl took another drag from his cigarette.
# # #
The first thing Rick noticed when he walked in Deanna Monroe's living room again was the man who had offered something harder to Amanda. The next thing was the man's small, kind smile as Amanda halted briefly in the doorway, Rick at her heels. He scowled, eyeing the half tug at the corner of the man's lips, while Amanda ignored it.
Monroe's glance shifted over to Rick for a second as he stood behind her. Rick returned it, placing his hand across the small of her back lightly and lingering for a second longer as they crossed the threshold. In answer, Monroe's thin lips curved an inch higher. Rick didn't let it bother him. Amanda—well, Amanda seemed like she'd decided to ignore both of them.
She quickened her pace and stood beside the camera behind the couch. Deanna was at the other side of the camera as Monroe stood by the window. Beside them, there was Aaron, Deanna's younger son, the psychologist, and an older man Rick hadn't seen before.
"This is Tobin—" Deanna introduced them. "Reg is covering for Eric in the school today as he rests. Tobin has taken his place. He's Reg's second-in-command, responsible for construction and building in the town with Reg."
Rick nodded. "How's Eric?" Amanda asked, turning to Aaron. Rick had learned he'd taken to the sick bay this morning when he went to look for the mini crib. Their luck still was holding, as the town had a daycare. They'd found a mini crib, a playpen, toys, books, even coloring pencils, and some other baby stuff Judith had been lacking for a long while and moved them to their house. They'd put them in the living room, but Rick had started thinking maybe they should move upstairs now.
If this was going to be the place, they had to start somewhere. They could still hold watches, but sleeping in the living room, huddled together on the floor wasn't going to work.
It'd also become apparent to him after last night he—uh—just couldn't share a room with Amanda yet. That part had become clear, too. They were taking it slow. They weren't going to rush things this time. He'd promised her. He wanted to spend time with her, like he'd said, without the toll and stress of being on the run. Cook her dinner, take her out on…dates…as much as they could manage.
And, Rick had to be sure. Sure that this place was safe as his family settled down.
"He's good—" Aaron answered her question as Rick eyed Amanda. Her hair—her clean damp hair - was up again in the half ponytail. She looked clean, she looked good. Her pale, freshly scrubbed skin was still reddened as she was newly out of the shower before they left for Deanna's house.
She smelled like honey milk body wash and…cinnamon. He could still smell cinnamon under her scent as if after the shower she'd made another oatmeal for Judith. Her scent almost made Rick lose it when he was back from seeing Aaron, but seeing her like this? Wet, scrubbed reddish, smelling honey milk and cinnamon? It took everything not to throw her over his shoulder and bring her up to the bed and have her just right there, waiting be damned.
Sometimes he wanted her so much, Rick really felt scared.
He glanced at her again and noticed Aiden Monroe was doing the same. The urge to put his hand on the small of her back to give the man another message rose strong, but a darting look from Amanda advised him not to. Instead, Rick merely stood beside her. Bowing his head, Monroe hid his smirk that had grown wider.
The asshole looked like he was actually having a…good time. Rick scowled more. It didn't help that the man looked a decade younger than him, healthier, more in shape, more at ease. His jaw squared. Amanda always felt worked up with this intensity between them, that ferocious intimacy. "Pete has taken him to the sick bay—" Aaron said, breaking through his musings.
Pete, as Rick had found out this morning, was the weird man on the porch who had welcomed him to the town drunkenly last night. Pete was also the town's surgeon, Aaron had explained. He was also Ron's father, the boy who had come to give Carl a tour yesterday with Beatrice's sister. They were living in the house beside Beatrice's, across from Deanna's, and the placement of the house had also told Rick plainly where the man stood in the town's…hierarchy.
His tour and his little talk in the morning had made it quite clear to Rick. The house and the lands they owned got bigger as they moved up over the hill, having a clear view of the pond and the town below. It was unmistakably clear, as was the way of Deanna's placement of their houses. At the outskirts of the slope, close to the main gate, at the opposite side of Deanna's house.
They still weren't one of them. Deanna was optimistic, not stupid. Rick guessed it was her way of making things clear for them, but well, they would see about that.
But first… He turned to Aiden Monroe. "How do you keep this place safe?" he questioned directly.
Aiden Monroe's head whipped at him. His tone was curt, firm, and Rick was glad to see that it had the effect on the man he'd hoped. The older Monroe frowned. "We take watches—"
"I only saw one man at the outpost when we came in—" he cut him off.
"At the gate duty—" Monroe returned. "There were a few more, too."
"Yeah—" he murmured, making a face. He remembered those. He pointed at the window with his head. "The bell tower—" he remarked. "It's got a clear vantage point. Do you have lookouts there?"
"No—" the younger man answered. "We only—"
"You have to—" Rick cut him off. They always had to be on watch. They couldn't be caught unaware again. They could not. Rick wasn't going to make the same mistake again. Wasn't going to go out and see a tank out of his walls one morning. Nothing—nothing would sneak up at them again like that. Never. Never again.
"There has to be someone up there, twenty-four seven. Sasha is a good shot. We could arrange a shift rotation with your guys—" Rick turned towards her. The Afro-American woman nodded. He didn't trust Monroe's men, so he had to be sure if they would do—perhaps he would even have a shift himself.
"How many patrols do you have?" he continued.
"We take watches at the gate—" Monroe repeated.
"You don't regularly check the perimeters?" Amanda asked this time before him, her voice sounding…surprised. Rick shared the sentiment.
The dark haired man shrugged. "Sometimes we walk—"
Rick shook his head, anger finding him. Deanna was just silent beside him. "You have to have regular patrols. Inside. Outside."
With the last word, they all looked at him. Even his own people. "Outside?" Tobin asked.
Rick gave a terse nod. "Outer watches," he stated. "We need to set up a perimeter outside out of the wall and make sure nothing would approach us without our knowledge." In his mind, Wolves Not Far written in blood all over the destroyed, burned, and butchered town flashed.
No. They were not going to get caught unaware again. The older Monroe shook his head. "The dead—"
Rick cut in once more, "—aren't the only thing you should be scared of." His eyes turned to Deanna as his tone grew heated. "People are worse. Before we came here, we found a town like this butchered, burned to the ground. Are there any signs out there?" he questioned further.
"Rick—" Amanda tried to interject, but he stopped her raising his hand. "This is a big project. Is there any billboards or such in the towns, on the road or somewhere with ads." What Aaron had told them when he'd found them—the recruiter had spoken as if he was intoning from published material, words memorized. Alexandria's Dream. A life of sustainability.
You just should've pulled down the signs, learned to protect yourself better, his own words to that monster came to him. Rick was going to listen to his own damn advice.
"Yeah. There are those old billboards at the roadside."
Rick nodded. "We're gonna pull them down."
"You have a safe house?" He heard Amanda's sigh as he continued questioning. All of them were looking at him…strangely now. Even Daryl.
"Man—easy—" his brother said slowly. Rick shook his head.
"We need to arrange a rendezvous point and a safe house to hole up if things go south," he went on, not listening to them. "Need to work on an evacuation plan—"
"Rick!" Amanda's voice raised an octave. "One step at a time. Let's take it…slow." Rick turned to his heated eyes on her. They couldn't take this slow. He could play along with her if she didn't want to sleep with him, but not with this. Not with their safety.
He had to keep them safe! "This is why we're here!" he protested. "This is why she wanted me here!"
To his surprise, Deanna spoke beside him. "Rick is right. This is why he's here—" the old woman nodded. "Let him do his job." She turned to him and asked coolly. "What else do you think we need?"
"A sort of battlement to walk atop on the wall—" Rick answered quickly. "We need to have access to the heights."
Deanna turned to Tobin, who answered him. "Not battlements, perhaps, but we could build a few more platforms along the wall."
Rick nodded. "Can we reinforce the wall?" he questioned. "Deanna mentioned concrete."
The older man nodded. "Reg and I thought about it before, but we don't have necessary equipment."
"Prepare me a list—" Rick said in return. "I'll look into it." He paused. "If we close the access avenues on the road, that could help, too."
"Like military checkpoints?" Monroe read his intentions.
Rick gave another quick nod. "The whole thing is about not getting caught unguarded, unaware," he explained, his agitation somewhat settling after Deanna's approval. "If we're faced with a threat greater than us, that would allow us time to prepare and plan a counterattack, or at least move on with the emergency plans."
"Yes. Excellent—" the older woman turned to her son. "Hope you wrote all this down, Aiden," she quipped with her smile.
For a second, Rick thought Aiden was going to roll his eyes. But what he did was worse. He turned and gave that smile at Amanda. "I think I'm gonna need a bit of help." He looked back at his mother. "Can I take Officer Shepherd, Mother? She could help us prepare."
Rick's jaw throbbed. "I need Amanda to train people—" Rick said before she could answer. "Daryl and I will help you."
Her jaw setting as she frowned, Amanda slanted a look at him. "Aaron said there are people who haven't seen outside yet. They need to learn how to fight. We can't have them like that."
Ford moved in, too. "Rosita and I can help," he remarked. "Until the other supply team arrives."
Rick nodded. Amanda's expression soured even more. "I can help you, too, Aiden, when I'm available," she said, and Rick wondered if she just did it to make him…rattled.
His clenched jaw moved, and Rick almost opened his mouth to tell her they should talk about it later, but Deanna beat it to him. "We shall talk about division of labor and fighting classes later in detail," she said, putting a stop to the discussion. "Come—" The old woman waved at him and started walking towards the dining room. "There's something I want you to see."
On the table, Rick saw plans again. Deanna rolled out the biggest one over the table, the one with that Latin script. "This's the Alexandria we envision—" she announced, and Rick heard a hopeful, proud devotion in her tone.
Bowing his head as the other joined them, Rick studied the plan. The town was detailed in scale, down to the walls, but more—much more than now was added. The grounds were enlarging towards the east—to the woods.
Expansion.
Deanna and her husband were planning an expansion. "This is gonna need a lot of work, hard labor—" Deanna remarked with that devoted tone. "But this is what we could build. For our children."
Rick looked at the plans. There were two lines of walls, like the fences in the prison, and a protected field for crops between them in rows. For the expanded grounds towards the woods, they were going to need to prep the soil to make it suitable for planting, cutting out the trees and roots. A lot of hard labor, indeed. There was a much bigger school complex at the east side, with gardens and playgrounds circling it, a church, a hospital, and a windmill.
Pointing at the sketch, Deanna smiled. "Reg thinks we can manage it. He's studying the engineering of it now."
Rick nodded again. A mill. Where they could make their own flour, grind their crops. In the prison, he'd started thinking about it, but had never come that far. He'd thought of going old school, finding grinding stones to make flour from crops, but this was even better.
They could even manage to generate power from it if they managed it. Solar panels were good, but the maintenance to keep them up was going to be hard in their situation.
Sustainability. Longevity.
The future.
Though for today, there was still something they could do. "Flower beds, lawns—" Rick intoned, lifting his head. "This is gonna take time, and winter is coming. The front and back yards are good for planting. We need to plant a few winter plants, even create a greenhouse if we can before the brunt of winter arrives."
Deanna's expression sobered as she craned her neck up to meet Rick's gaze. "We like flowers—"
"You're gonna like food more," he replied, indifferent, cutting her off.
He had nothing against the flowers. He liked them fine enough too, even had them for his family, made bouquets for Amanda to give her something pretty, but necessities came before luxuries.
"We're gonna talk later—" Deanna countered with no further regard, rolling up the plans. Rick understood the meeting had come to an end. For today.
There was a lot of discussion they were going to make: about their arsenal, the supplies, the maintenance, even how they were dealing with the sick. That was something else Rick couldn't let happen. But all those were discussions for another day, too.
Rick nodded curtly and started walking out. The rest of them followed him.
# # #
When they were out of Deanna's house, Amanda realized something, clear as sky.
Rick needed to lay down. Now.
The way he'd been yesterday morning came to her, the way he took her in his arms, telling her he just wanted to sleep a bit, his tone almost imploring. Amanda really wondered when was the last time he'd really slept, not just a quick nap with two eyes open before dawn, but a real sleep. It must've been weeks.
He nudged her as they walked down the street. The others were on their heels, and the streets were still deserted. Alexandria wasn't an early wake upper. "Let's go check out that school—" Rick said, wandering his eyes around. "I still haven't seen the community center properly."
Amanda shook her head. "No," she declined. "There's something else we need to do at the house."
He gave her a suspicious look. "What?" He paused a second. "Was there a problem?"
"No—" Amanda answered with another head shake, entering the driveway. There was a problem indeed, but nothing they couldn't fix. "We're gonna fix it," she murmured, eyeing the flowers, marigolds, pansies, and a few other species Amanda didn't know much about other than they would endure the upcoming winter. Alexandria must have a sort of greenhouse to keep up with the gardening with colorful flowers on the grounds.
Rick wanted them gone. The thought made her sad, even though she could see the reason. Food was more important, but they still needed beauty. They still needed flowers, pretty things. They should keep a bit of it, come out on the porch in the morning, and look at the flowers in the first light of the day…
She stopped him on the steps of the porch. "We're gonna keep a part of the flowers," she remarked with all seriousness she could muster up. "We still need beauty."
His eyes found hers again with that searching look, keen blue eyes fixated on hers. Then he nodded. "Okay."
"Good—" she said, opening the screen door. "Now, come."
"Amanda—" Rick called out to her as she walked in. "Wh-what are you doing?"
"We're taking a break—" she replied firmly over her shoulder, then behind his back, she spotted Carol. "Carol, can you look after Judith?" she asked, cooling her voice further. "Rick and I are gonna rest for a while."
Halting in the corridor, Rick stared at her. Carol brushed by him, continuing on her way to the living room. "Sure—" the older woman said as Amanda snagged his wrist and started dragging him along in the corridor, towards the den.
She stopped in front of the door. "Daryl—" She called out as the hunter moved in the kitchen. "Rick's taking a break—" she repeated, her hand moving behind her back to hold the door's handle. "Unless it's like a herd of thousands banging at the walls, don't call us."
Daryl shot her an almost wry grin. "Got it."
She smiled back, cracking the door behind her, pushing it back in the room, and making way for Rick. Daryl vanished into the kitchen as Amanda jerked her head inside. "Get in."
"Am—"
"Not a word, Rick—" she cut him off. "Get in."
With a curious arch of his brow, Rick passed her at the threshold and walked into the room. Amanda closed the door behind them. He stood beside the door, still looking at her. Amanda knelt in front of him. When she raised her head up to look at him, she saw his brows got lost behind his hairline.
"Carl and Beth are in that school—" she explained, grabbing one of his cowboy boots. She tugged at it and started yanking it off. "Judith is with Carol. Daryl is taking the watch. The others can deal with the rest. We're gonna sleep a bit."
She craned her neck again, wondering if he recognized his own words. When she saw his eyes light up, Amanda knew he had. "We need to start moving upstairs, too," he stated a second later, his eyes still on her, his chin tilted as Amanda began with the other boot.
The statement made her hands halt momentarily, but pulling herself together, Amanda nodded. "Yes. Tomorrow." They were just going to do it. It was time to start coming back. We've been on the edge too long. We have to come back. They weren't the walking dead.
Amanda stood up. His gaze never left hers as Amanda reached to his shoulders and began removing his suede jacket, rolling it off over his shoulders. He was silent now, letting her strip him, his eyes glued on hers turning heavy with another thing.
This wasn't it. They weren't going to have sex. They were going to sleep. Yet a tug throbbed inside her core, too, as Rick kept staring at her intently. She reached out to his duty belt and unbuckled it, bowing her head. She dropped the heavy belt with a thud on the rug covered floor beside the door.
Raising her head, Amanda took his hand. She led him to the couch and made him sit. Perching beside him on the edge of the couch, she took out her boot knife first, then started unlacing her boots. She kicked them off as Rick leaned over her from behind. She twisted aside as his arm circled her waist. "Amanda—"
She stopped him, pressing two fingers on his mouth. Her touch was gentle, but it shut him up. "No more talking—" she warned. "We're gonna sleep."
Rick chuckled faintly behind her fingers. "Yes, ma'am." He lay on his side on the cushion at the corner, bringing her down in the meantime with his arm still coiled around her waist.
Amanda fussed with her empty holster and took it off too as Rick settled them on the couch, spooning behind her, freeing her hair in the meanwhile. Soon enough, they became a tangled mess of limbs. He slung his leg over hers, setting his foot between her feet. Using his own foot, he tugged their socks off, and in a few moments, their tangled bare feet kept each other warm as his hand slipped over to her pants. He didn't unzip them, just unbuckled her first button and tucked his hand inside her waistline.
Somehow Rick also must've felt this wasn't for sex. They were just taking a break, laying down a bit, sleeping in each other's arms. They weren't the walking dead. The knowledge and his consent unwound her further as she relaxed in his embrace. His other arm, looped over her, drew her closer before his hand slipped under her shirt and cupped her left breast gently inside her spare lacework bra. Like the hand above her pelvis, he just kept it there, his palm curled around her breast. Instantly, her nipples stood to attention under his calloused skin.
Amanda really liked the sensation. Being touched like this. Liked it a lot. Especially when he started softly rubbing his fingertips across the soft swell of her breast.
She half spun her head on the cushion they shared and looked at him. His eyes were already closed as he continued his soft motions, his expression already easing off. He was breathing steadily with each stroke. The sight reminded her of Judith playing with her hair as she fell asleep. Rick's jaw lost the tension, too, the deep lines etched on his skin with his habitual frowns and scowls disappearing a bit. With a small, subsided sigh, Amanda turned as she felt his semi-hardness poking at her back.
She didn't react, just ignored it, careful not to wriggle to make it worse for him. Rick still stayed in the same state. She wanted to comfort him, not give him another set of blue balls. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to sleep. They both needed sleep. Her hand crawled over her waistline, and Amanda lay it over his that was still tucked inside her unbuttoned pants as his other hand kept massaging her breast gently.
Rick murmured something drowsily. "Cinnamon…" Amanda heard the second time. "You smell cinnamon."
She smiled. "Like it?"
"Hmmm—" Rick drew her closer, against his hardness, his hand cupping her breast a bit tighter. "Pancakes…" he muttered the next second over her neck, "make it with cinnamon."
She let out a low giggle. "With cinnamon. Honey?" she asked further.
"Hmm mm—" Rick murmured in answer.
A few minutes later, Amanda heard deep, heavy steady breaths as Rick fell asleep.
Amanda closed her eyes again and followed him.