When Daryl found her, Joan was sitting on the steps of the back deck, sipping from the newly brewed coffee. Everyone else had gone inside the houses, lights turned off. Mostly. The house that stood just next to theirs that was only separated by a narrow pathway of cobblestone with a short evergreen fence was already darkened, but above her on the second floor, a lone faded orange hue was still visible. Joan knew whose room it belonged to.
Absentmindedly, Joan wondered if Amanda was there. Before she'd left the house, Joan had heard soft baby cries. Something told her that her officer friend wouldn't ignore them now. Amanda Shepherd had turned into a mother hen. It was almost a snarky thought, and Joan felt bitter, too, though she knew it was falsely directed. Mostly. Her gaze drifted down, and she stared at her mug.
She brought it up after a second and took another sip. Coffee, it'd been a while since the last time she had coffee. Gorman—
Joan stopped that thought even before she started. Frowning in the dark, she looked ahead, towards the great wall.
"Hey—" the familiar rough drawl rasped beside her, and startled, Joan jerked on the steps a little.
She twisted aside and saw Daryl as he swung his arms over the railing. "Whaddaya doin' here?" the hunter asked lowly, slanting a look over to her. "Why ain't ya inside?"
"Didn't feel like sleeping," she replied stiffly. "You—back from watch?"
Daryl gave a half bob of his head. "Yeah, I was heading to the garage. Saw you—" His eyes returned to her, assessing her as Joan sipped from the mug again. "Ya okay?"
Joan shrugged, a similar gesture she'd picked up from him. Daryl gave her another glance as Joan's eyes darted over to him, checking his unkempt appearance.
Daryl was the only one who hadn't showered yet, still looking like always did, a creature of the woods. The smell of earth and the woods on him was stronger here more than out there. The leather scent was still poignant, too, along with the smell of sweat and wild animals. It was a scent Joan had grown accustomed to. Somehow it was soothing, too, something that made her feel…better. Safer?
Her eyes flicked up and caught his, and Joan realized once more what clear blue eyes he had. "I don't want to stay in—" Words left her, bitter and curt, her hands gripping the mug tighter while she felt the heat through the porcelain.
Joan didn't move them away.
She didn't want to stay inside the walls. Didn't want to be a pretty puppet again that played at the end of their strings. The memory of a backhand landing on her cheek almost made her scream, or cry, another string of ungrateful bitches clanking loudly in her mind as she tumbled on the bed on her back—
"Then don't—" Daryl replied, leaning over the railing. "I'm gonna go out tomorrow to put up snares. Come with me."
Lifting her head up to look at the man, Joan eyed him carefully for a few seconds before she asked, "You still go out to set snares?"
The hunter shrugged. Why not? Joan laughed lowly raising the mug to her lips again. "Old habits die hard, huh?"
Daryl shrugged again. Joan stood up, lowering her hand with the mug at her side. "Deanna won't like it, you know."
Another absent, indifferent shrug was her answer. "See ya tomorrow then—" Joan said, smiling an inch. She paused, almost going back inside, but something stopped her feet. She—she wanted to add something. Do something. Show him how much it meant to her…
She—she wasn't an ungrateful bitch.
Still holding the half empty mug, Joan leaned in and kissed him on the cheek lightly. "Thank you," she murmured to his ear, her lips hovering over his stubble as Daryl stood motionless. Joan didn't move, either. The rugged sensation against her chapped lips felt odd, but Joan liked it. Gorman always kept himself clean shaven, smooth…
She drew back, the thought disturbing her again as her expression tightened. She felt tainted, like all of her memories, her sensations were tainted with him, all of her felt tainted with him.
Her eyes pricked. "Hey—" Daryl called out, leaning over her further from the railings. He was startled when she did it, but now Joan heard clear worry in his tone when he asked, his burrows furrowing, "Ya okay?"
"Yeah—" Joan dismissed it quickly with an absent jerk of her head before she turned and scurried away. "See ya in the morning."
As she did, she could feel his eyes still staring at her back.
# # #
When Beth heard soft footsteps outside, she shifted in the bed laying awkwardly in the dimly lit room and straightened up a little. Being alone in the room felt awful, and she was debating with herself if she should lay down on the floor once more. It still would feel awful, but at least it would feel less awful. But Beth also was half expecting Amanda to return to the room after chickening out. Despite all of her courageous and determined spirit, Amanda Shepherd could be such a coward sometimes.
Beth almost scoffed, but halted as footsteps padded away from their door. Understanding who they belonged to, she quickly jumped off the bed and rushed to the door.
"Hey—" She cracked the door and poked her head out. Just as she surmised, Carl was lurking on the landing, heading downstairs. "Where are you going?" Beth whispered.
All of a sudden, fear gripped her. She tried to suppress the panic she felt at remembering the last time Carl had snuck out, and what had happened then—her palm itched.
"Downstairs—" her friend answered, slowly turning to her. "I'm not going to sleep in the same room with them. They—" He stopped in the middle of his sentence, his eyes narrowing at her in the dark corridor, turning to slits as he gave her a startled look. "What's that on your face?"
Beth pursed her metallic blue lips. "It's rave makeup. Amanda did it," she informed him, before she added on the topic, "I don't think she will sleep over there."
Carl shrugged. "Not gonna sit down with them, either."
She stepped aside, opening the door a bit further in an invitation. Carl gazed at her suspiciously. "C'mere, Carl—" she called out. "I don't want to sleep. And I'm bored."
And it really felt awful staying alone in the room, but Beth didn't say that part. She was wearing a robe like Amanda over her own lingerie, dark navy like its matching counterpart. Carl tossed her another look, more cautious now, before he walked in.
"Amanda and I did a makeover—" Beth explained, closing the door after him. "Found these in the closet." She gave her friend a small smile. She wanted to do something silly, like she was fifteen and stupid again.
Like—like that girl. Clarice.
Beth had never hated someone before. No. She'd hated those men in the woods, their cruelty, their monstrous atrocity, their careless evilness. But it wasn't like that. Sweet, fifteen, and stupid, Clarice was all Beth had dreamed to be once.
Once upon a time… There was a girl, and she died…
Beth went to the vanity table, Carl still looking at her cautiously. Her friend was always looking at her cautiously these days. Leaning over the vanity, she opened the first drawer and took out the photo frame. The girl in the photo was around Amanda's age, having thick blond curls that were falling over her shoulders like sunshine. She looked so beautiful, so happy in the frame that Beth felt that pinch in her chest again. Her shorter hair was a matte dirty blonde now, even after the showers she'd taken, a dull color, not sparking like sunshine as it used to before. Not like the girl in the photo, not like Clarice. Clarice's sunshine hair was still so lush, so lavish, so silky.
Her lips flattened at the thought, Beth turned and started walking towards Carl and saw him looking around doubtfully as he tried to decide where to settle.
There was one very comfy armchair in the room, a sofa at the foot of the bed, and the vanity table's stool. Carl seemed like he didn't want to sit on the bed or on the sofa, so Beth strutted towards the armchair.
She thought she did. Beth never strutted before, but just walking didn't sound good enough to describe the way the silken gown brushed over her legs with each step. No, with a dressing gown like this, a woman would only strut.
So, Beth strutted and slid into the armchair. She folded her legs under her, covering herself as the slit of the skirts exposed her legs before Carl came and sat on the floor on the rugs just beside her seat, resting his back against the armchair.
Leaning in, Beth showed the frame to Carl. Twisting aside, looking up at her, he took the photo from her. "I think they belong to her. Found it in the room."
Carl nodded. "I saw some frames, too."
"She's beautiful—" Beth remarked, running a finger along the edge of the silk. Once upon a time, there was a girl, and she died. It was still the same old story. The girl must have died, too. And Beth was wearing her clothes now. Just like how Carl was carrying Michonne's sword. Carl hadn't handed it in to the armory like the rest of the guns, instead put it on the mantelpiece over the fireplace in the living room.
Beth wouldn't have guessed, but they had let him. Carl still had his memento from his friend. Beth had nothing.
She flicked her eyes down to Carl again. "My music box—" she remarked. "You still haven't given it back to me." She wanted it back. Carl had put it in his bag while they were packing in the barn, and when she asked later, he told her he was going to fix it, but it was still with him.
"I haven't fixed it yet," Carl replied. "I was going to ask dad again—"
Beth cut him off. "Don't bother. I don't mind it being broken." She paused. Beth didn't mind broken things anymore. In fact, sometimes…sometimes she wanted to break things. Everything was in ruins now. Why would they care?
Why not? Amanda's answer echoed in her, but Beth silenced it down. "I just want it back," she declared with a low but stern voice.
She wanted it. Carl shrugged.
They sat in silence for a while before Carl raised his arm up with the photo towards her. "My mother's photo was lost in the prison—" he said in a small voice, handing her the frame back. "Judith will never know how she looks like now."
The thought saddened Beth. She had accepted it was how their life was now, leaving things behind, but it was still sad. Beth remembered the prison, what his father had told her when he'd found her still unpacked after weeks there, telling her what the point was of living if you didn't have hope.
It was a question Beth feared to ask herself anymore. She knew she didn't want to…die. She at least couldn't do it to people who still cared about her, but everything else… Beth just didn't know. She wished she could have her journal at least, read what she'd written before, her words, her memories…not everything was lost. But her journal was still there in the prison, along with the bracelets Maggie had made for her and her father's Bible. Like Carl family photo.
They all had stayed back there. Had they lost them too? Like everything else?
Sadness dissipating into a hot anger, Beth shook her head. "We should turn back—" she whispered heatedly.
Carl looked up at her. "We should return to the prison and take them back," she clarified in the same heated tones, leaning forward. "We have to go back."
"Dad would never let us—" Carl interjected, shaking his head.
"Maybe they would." The prison still had supplies, meds they'd brought from Grady, weapons. Beth wasn't an idiot. Even with all the supplies here, she still knew meds and guns were a priority.
"We talk with Amanda and Rick. The guns and meds are still there, right?" she asked, mulling over the idea.
"They would want to get them back," she continued. It would work. It should work. Carl, though, was still suspicious. "The others would want to come, too." They all had left something behind. Her hand moving away from the fringes of silk, her thumb caressed her palm, feeling the scar tissue running under her fingertip.
"I don't know—" Carl answered after a pause. "It's a long way from here. And the prison is swarmed by walkers."
Well, there was that, too. Beth paused. "I think walkers would just wander away without anything living when the fences are down. Perhaps they already did. We know they herd up then immigrate if they're not trapped." She paused again, remembering something else. "Before Governor attacked, Maggie was talking about a supply run with Glenn to go back to the farm to check it."
Carl was silent again for a while, then slowly stated, "I don't think Dad would risk it."
Beth scowled. "Every breath we take is a risk—" she intoned her father's words. They could only decide now how to take their own risks. His eyes lifting up at her again, Carl gave her a long look, the fringes of his dark brown hair brushing his eyebrows.
Carl had let his hair grow longer after Lori died. Beth didn't understand it first, but now she did. She used to see Lori cutting Carl's hair all the time before. After she died, Carl stopped cutting his hair, too.
Beth flicked her hand through her own hair, brushing over her shoulders. After Maggie died, Beth just cut it instead, feeling it was too long. Too long for such a world.
"Do you really want it?" Carl asked, still looking at her. "To go back there?"
"My father's Bible, Maggie's bracelets—" Beth replied lowly. "I want them back."
With a word, Carl only nodded before he twisted aside and rested his back against the armchair again. Beth knew he understood. Her friend was only a few people she had left who still understood her. They stayed like that for a while, both not talking any further, listening to the silence.
Time passed—and Amanda didn't return.
Her eyes darting below, Beth spied as Carl gave covert glances to the door. The silence almost became oppressive as they just sat there, the whole house in a deep slumber. Everyone was sleeping.
Everyone?
Well, Beth started wondering. She perked up her ears and tried to catch something, anything—nothing. There was no sound. Not even soft baby wheezing. Judith must be sleeping.
And Amanda still hadn't returned.
The implication of it became heavier in the silence. Amanda was staying with Rick and Judith. Her curiosity grew more and more as Carl's expression got sourer.
Beth flicked another look over to her friend. "Do you think they're doing it?" The words suddenly popped out of her mouth, and Beth was as surprised as Carl when she heard them aloud.
His head whipped up at her, Carl stared at her. Tugging a lock of hair behind her ear, feeling a sudden unease, Beth tried to shrug. "Uh, well, she hasn't returned yet."
Resting his hands on his pulled up bent knees, turning away from her, Carl bowed his head. "Yeah."
They passed another moment like that silently before Beth couldn't help herself but ask, too. "Carl—have you—have you ever—"
Realizing what she was asking, Carl cut her off, raising his head. "No." His eyes found hers. "Did—did you?"
Beth shook her head slowly. "I—I got to the second base with Zach," she replied truthfully.
Carl bobbed his head. "I kissed Alice," he confessed after a pause. "It was a dare."
Beth smiled a little and tried to remember the girl. She'd come a few months after they'd started taking people in, but Beth couldn't remember who had found them. It didn't matter anyway. She was possibly dead, too.
Once upon a time, there was a girl, and she died… It felt like the words had slipped in every curve of her brain, and Beth almost told him what she'd thought in the woods before.
They—they were friends. Weren't they?
If something happened, and they died tonight or tomorrow… Beth remembered smokes. The things I need to do before I die—her voice echoed in her mind before Amanda's warning followed: it's crossing a line.
Shaking her head, Beth pulled up to her feet. She was getting bored. With herself. Perhaps one day, but not tonight. Tonight, they would just—
She waggled a hand at Carl. "Come on, it's getting late. Let's sleep."
Looking up at her cautiously again where he still sat, Carl hesitated.
Beth sighed. "She's staying with him, Carl," she told him slowly. Her eyes turned down on him, and she asked openly, "Can you stay with me?" She paused before she confessed, because friends never lied. "I—I don't want to be alone. It feels awful."
Without a word, Carl stood up.
Lifting the covers, Beth slipped into the bed still with the robe on. Carl walked to the other side and got into bed. He was wearing a pajama bottom, something he possibly found in his own room. Twisting aside and reaching up, Beth turned off the lamp on the bedstand before she fell back on the pillows.
Her first night in a real room after almost two years. She wondered if she should wipe off the makeup, but she didn't bother. Even Amanda hadn't made a fuss over it, just came to bed before she left. Such trivialities didn't belong to their lives anymore.
Carl's breaths were rhythmic in the silence, and Beth listened to him, trying to remember a forgotten song's lyrics. She needed to complete her song, too. It was on her list.
"Goodnight, Carl—" Beth whispered in the dark, closing her eyes, the tip of her thumb caressing her scarred palm before his answer came within a heartbeat.
"Goodnight, Beth."
# # #
As Amanda woke up, the first thing she felt was the warmth. It was engulfing her, enwrapping her in a sweet heat, and wetness. Perspiration. She was sweaty with skin contact, and in a weird way it was so satisfying that she still didn't want to move.
She blinked her eyes sleepily against the sunlight that seeped through drapes over the windows. She was still half on her stomach over Rick in the same way under the covers; her leg tucked between his, her head nested against the crook of his neck, her arm across his middle. And her hand, well, it had found its back way under his shirt once again as she held him at his side.
Rick wasn't very different, either. His hand was still gently cupping her ass. Her lips curved up into a lazy smile. Go figure, they turned into the cuddling type. Amanda always hated any more skin contact more than necessary, and she was really wondering why it changed now. It was so good, so warm, his breath tickling over her skin—
Cracking his eyes open, Rick tilted his head down and smiled at her. "Mornin'." The word rolled around his tongue throatily, his voice thick with sleepy roughness, and it was damn sexy.
It sent a tender jolt of pleasure through her core. Amanda stirred more as she mouthed the word back at him, raising her head up from its nest. Their lips met for a slow, lazy kiss. Their morning breath wasn't fresh, but Amanda didn't care. It felt like she had stopped caring about everything.
They kissed like they had nothing in the world to do in the moment. Tightening his arms around her back, Rick hauled her up further over himself, strategically positioning her groin over his morning hardness.
Her arm sliding down, she smoothed her hand over his stomach gently, wanting to sense his warm skin again. Rick had a lightly hairy chest, something Amanda had always wondered how it would feel to kiss. She wanted to find out, wanted to run her tongue over the silky hairy texture.
Her hand tugged at the hem of his shirt. Understanding her desire, Rick raised up from the pillows as Amanda pulled back an inch, too, easing off her weight of him, and with a swift move, he pulled off his shirt and threw it away before he lay back down.
She slid downward over his body, tugging both of her legs inside his as she followed his treasure trail. Her tongue flicked around his belly button framed by the tiny silky dark hair she so wanted to taste as Rick hitched out his breath, his hands reaching down to grip her shoulders.
Amanda looked up at him and saw his head was tossed back on the pillows, revealing his Adam's apple again. Returning to her discovery with a slow smirk, Amanda trailed her tongue up to his chest, more eager than ever to find out what would make him make that hitched breath deeper. He tasted like he smelled, too; that distinctive scent of him, now mixed with fresh soap. It filled her nostrils as much as her taste buds, turning her on more, a gentle tug pulsing in her depths.
She made her way upward slowly, taking her sweet time with lazy drawled kisses before she found his peaked nipples. She lingered there, played with his right nipple, her smirking smile still on her lips as Rick sucked in another breath. She couldn't help herself. She grazed the sensitive skin with the tip of her teeth, glancing up at him.
Rick rewarded her with a sharp hiss out of his nose, his head tilted backward further. It was one of the sexiest sounds Amanda had ever heard—
And just then she heard another sound...a soft puff beside her.
Amanda froze, stilling over him and twisting her head aside to look at Judith as the baby girl let out another puff in sleep. Amada blinked a few times, lying motionlessly over him.
S-s-she was making out beside a baby.
She rolled off him and lay on her back.
What was wrong with her?
Was she that horny?
Scooting over to her, Rick rolled on his side, drawing up on his elbow as he half spooned her. His other hand gently brushed back her hair over her shoulder. He was silent for a while, just looking at her as Amanda gazed at the ceiling. In the end, he leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss with a soft smile.
"Let's take a shower—" he whispered to her hoarsely. "You're sweaty."
She gave him a look before she glanced at Judith again over on his other side. "She's still sleeping—" Rick whispered again, his eyes still on hers.
Feeling torn, Amanda turned to him as he trailed another chaste kiss over her jawline. She knew she was being seduced, and she was about to tell him to stop, but before she could, Rick murmured over her ear, "Listen."
He stayed silent for a few seconds, then went on in the same throaty whisper, "All the house is silent. Everyone is still sleeping. We can hear her if she wakes up—" The tip of his tongue flicked under her earlobe. He knew well how it made her shiver.
As the shiver passed along her body, images assaulted her. Taking a shower with Rick, all wet and naked… Her eyes darted at him. "I promise I'll behave—"
Amanda knew she was done when she realized, perhaps, she wouldn't mind him misbehaving. She still felt torn, but well—
Rick took her hand and straightened up.
They climbed out of the bed as silently as possible, Rick dragging her to the bathroom, her hand in his.
Inside, he left the door open. Amanda felt a shyness come to her again when his glinting eyes roamed all over her as she stood on the cold tiles only in her chemise.
She knew her nipples perked up under the silk cloth with anticipation and morning chill, and she wasn't surprised his eyes lingered there before he closed the distance between them. His hands gently rubbed her bare shoulders as he gave her a warm, reassuring smile. Something— a twisted cord uncoiled in her stomach with his smile.
Rick then slipped the thin straps over her shoulders, making the silk chemise pool around her feet on the tiles.
Swallowing lowly, Amanda took a step closer and slowly reached for his pajama pants. She wanted to do this. Dropping his arms at his sides, Rick let her undo the tiny knot of his pajama bottom before she eased it off him. His fingers looped around the tiny edges of her thong, sliding it over her bare legs. Amanda tucked her fingers inside his boxers waistline and eased them down to the tiles, too. Their eyes stayed glued on each other the whole time as they slowly undressed each other.
With another small smile, naked, Rick took her hand again, and they stepped into the shower. Amanda was still wearing make up from the night, but she still didn't care. She hadn't wanted to wipe it off last night after Beth applied it, and she didn't want to break their moment now. The mascara she wore claimed to be waterproof, so she supposed they were going to see about it.
Rick adjusted the temperature, and like a cascade, warm water started pouring above their heads. Reaching out a hand, Rick angled the shower head, so they stood under the half of the spray of the waterfall. His dark curls plastered along the nape of his neck and the sides of his face, getting wet from the spray and hers along her shoulders.
More of the waterdrops slid over his five o'clock shadow, and he looked so handsome—so gorgeous… His hands held her at her waist, dipping his head for a kiss, so slow, so tender, Amanda felt she was melting under the downpour.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, their wet skin sliding over each other smoothly as they kissed, kissed, kissed—
Rick spun her in his arms suddenly, breaking the kiss, his arm holding her against his chest as the other reached out to take the sponge from the little shelf in the wall. He poured a gentle amount of honey milk body wash on the sponge and started washing her.
It was the first time someone had ever washed her. He was so gentle, so kind, and she was melting even further as the air inside the shower became dense with vapors of hot water—so hot, so warm… Amanda closed her eyes and felt herself sinking against his chest.
But Rick spun her around again, stepping an inch back, the foamy sponge gently brushing over her stomach this time, then he knelt in front of her. He trailed it over her legs, parting them a little as his hand slid between her thighs.
He raised his eyes to look up at her, and even before he did, Amanda realized what he was aiming to do. She shivered with anticipation as they stared at each other, his eyes now glinting like sapphire again.
Standing up, Rick quickly moved her back under the spray, bubbles washing off her body. Her back hit the the ceramic wall as he reached out and turned the shower head completely away from them.
Amanda shivered again with the sudden chill on her back and once more with anticipation as Rick knelt back between her legs and his head dipped, he kissed her down there, a soft, gentle kiss.
She trembled so violently at the brief contact, Rick looked up at her, tilting his head a little, and smiled. His smile though wasn't gentle, not at all. It was wicked, almost dirty—and God.
Amanda couldn't even remember the last time someone went down on her—and Rick—Rick doing it—even the thought itself sent another surge through her body just as Rick grabbed her hips to steady her before he started working on her.
Amanda closed her eyes, her moans becoming louder and louder as his tongue started accompanying his lips, tracing through her folds as Rick grabbed her right leg and draped it over his shoulder. Her head hit at the wall tiles, her eyes still shut closed, and god, it felt so good, so amazing. Then he found her clit, spreading her leg wider on his shoulder, and Amanda simply went to another world as his tongue started making quick flickers over it.
Her hand shot up, and blindly, she grabbed the shower stall to stay upright on her trembling leg, her hips bucking forcefully when Rick started sucking her, too. His hands were holding her so tightly now she felt his nails digging into her skin.
Her head bowing, Amanda half cracked her eyes open and looked at him. His head was moving with his motions in a studious, steady rhythm between her legs, one still swung over his shoulder as he tried to discover what made her buck against his face the most, what made her groan louder.
The sight of him was already enough, but when Amanda picked up her juices dripping over his already wet stubble, his hands like clamps on her widespread thighs… They were going to leave their marks, she knew.
I guess I'm just gonna suck you in the places no one but me can see…
Rick Grimes, always true to his word.
His mouth moved an inch away, and she almost protested, she was closing on the edge, so close—so close. She wanted her release. She wanted to come, god, she so wanted it, wanted him to make her come just like this! But her protests died in her throat when he licked over her folds before he started fucking her with his tongue as his thumb replaced his tongue over her clit. He moved it over her most sensitive spot with quick slides as his tongue fucked her.
God, it was so much, so fucking much, and so fucking good, she caught his shoulder with her hand in the last moment before she lost her balance. Still doing his thing, his eyes jerked up from between her legs to watch her intently. The way he looked—the way he looked at her—
Her legs finally failing her, Amanda started tumbling downward, couldn't support herself anymore, but Rick caught her before she hit the shower base.
Sill holding her thighs, Rick gently eased her down then swung her other leg over his shoulder, too, as he rose on his knees, never breaking their contact nor stopping what he was doing to her.
Amanda arched up, her legs swinging over his shoulders against his back as the angle made his tongue dive deeper into her, his hand finding her clit again.
She was bucking, grinding against his face so needily, clenching his head between her thighs so wantonly, she was almost ashamed.
When you fucked people you didn't care about, you also didn't care how you looked, how they saw you—but but—Rick—how much she wanted him, how much she needed him… the way he made her feel… It was all swelling in her, in her chest, in her core, wanting to burst out, but she couldn't concentrate on it, not when he was doing this to her, not when he was eating her out like this.
Yes, he was eating her out—eating her out like she was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.
Amanda felt glad of the downpour, not only because it still sent sprays of water over them, but it also muffled her moans and groans as she came violently, clenching her thighs even tighter as that thing inside her burst out, the world blacking out.
Slumping back on the shower base, Amanda blindly drew up and rested her back against the tiles in the corner, her eyes still closed, her wet body still trembling. She felt shut down in a weird way, the euphoric release of her powerful climax leaving her almost in a limbo state with shivers. She felt limp, listless...wet, like a little puppy that had stayed in a downpour too long.
Forcing her eyes half open, she glanced at Rick. The shyness came over her again with an urge to pull her legs up to her chest to cover herself a bit. On the supply run, she hadn't cared how she came undone with him, but now she didn't know. It felt like something had shifted between them…changed. She tried to give him a smile as Rick gazed at her, his slitted eyes looking speculative.
Amanda turned her eyes away, rising to her feet, shutting down the thoughts. She reached for the shower head, and grabbing it, pulled it off. Directing the jet of water over his chin, she started rubbing his chin with her other hand.
She gave him a sheepish look seeing her juices still running over his stubble. "Sorry—" she mumbled. "Made a mess of you—"
His expression eased as he smiled at her again warmly in that way, getting closer. "Good that we're already in shower."
"Hmm hmm—" She tossed him a look. "And you said you were going to behave—"
He chuckled and Amanda relaxed further hearing the sound. He took another step, his hands taking a hold of her waist again as Amanda jetted the water over his body and glanced down.
His cock was still erect, hard in his arousal, but his lips were holding a playful smirk as he dipped his head, reaching out to her. "I'm behaving very well right now—"
His playfulness chased away all of the remnants of her odd unease and vulnerability after her orgasm, and Amanda giggled, rising the shower head at his face. "Liar—"
He caught her wrist and turned it at her. She shook her head at the sudden watery assault, the jet hitting her face as she retreated. Rick laughed at her reaction, still holding her wrist, walking in on her. "Rick!" she protested, holding his wrist back.
He let out a laugh. "Don't start something you can't finish, Mandy—"
The words were light, and he was still laughing, but she wondered a split second if there was a hidden meaning in it. She slanted a look to him, then soft wheezing sounds started coming them from the bedroom.
Judith woke up. Their heads whipped toward the door as Rick quickly turned off the faucet. Amanda shot an accusing, playful glance at him, too. "And you woke her up—"
"Me?" Rick asked innocently.
She blushed. She hadn't moaned that loud this time, had she? And the shower, it should muffle the sounds. If anyone were above them, they could hear them clearly, but this en-suite bathroom was tucked at the far corner securely away from the other rooms. Yet, she still glanced at Rick again as they hopped out of the shower.
He took the body towels from a cabinet as Amanda checked the mirror. Her under eyes were faintly smeared black with waterproof mascara, but it wasn't so bad. They dripped water in a pool over the tiles beneath their feet as Rick wrapped a towel around her body after covering himself with another around his waist while Amanda dealt with the remains of the makeup.
Between her legs felt chaffed, almost aching after the intense attention Rick and his stubble gave to her. The feeling though was…oddly satisfying.
She turned to Rick as he started patting her with the towel. "Rick," she called out. "I—I wasn't too loud, right?" Carl and Beth were just sleeping in the next room beside them. If they heard her. If Carl heard her again as they had sex…
Rick shook his head, his hands rubbing along her sides over the towel. "No, don't worry. They wouldn't hear you." His eyes raised up to hers, getting heated again. "Otherwise, I would've kept you silent."
They exchanged a look, Amanda feeling heat emitting out of her even further.
She was saved by the bell, or rather, the baby crying. Judith's wheezing turned to soft cries as the baby girl realized she was alone in the bed. Quickly taking another towel to wrap around her hair, Amanda dashed out.
Securing the knot that Rick made under her arm, she scurried to the bed. Judith raised her arms as soon as she saw them, Rick following behind her. The baby was trying to crawl over the pillows that Rick had tucked between the mini crib and her.
Amanda smiled, shooting him a look over her shoulder. "She's misbehaving like her daddy."
Rick shook his head, cupping her ass again with one hand. "Her daddy was a very good boy this morning."
"Uh huh."
Over her shoulder, Rick leaned in and gave her cheek a quick kiss, pinching her ass lightly before he passed her, and leaning down, scooped up Judith.
"Good morning, baby gorgeous—" Raising his arms, he bounced her in the air, smiling a big smile, as Judith gave out happy giggles.
Amanda felt her core melt again, looking at them together, laughing with them. She reached out, trying to keep the baby stable. "Hey, you're getting her wet—" she warned, still laughing.
He still had the towel wrapped around his hips, but the water drops were dripping over his chest, his chest hair plastered on his skin as more drops slipped from the end of his locks. He looked gorgeous. So much that Amanda played with the idea taking off his towel and sliding on her knees in front of him, too.
Outside she heard the doors open, and footsteps walked away in front of the master bedroom. Beth and Carl had woken up. A new day had started.
Amanda turned to the door, and the reality came back to her. She'd spent the whole night with Rick, and both Carl and Beth knew it. And Carl and Beth had spent the night in the same bed, too, and Amanda didn't truly know how she felt about it.
Rick started drying his hair with a smaller towel he'd brought from the bathroom after he placed Judith into the crib. The play pen was still in the living room. Absently, Amanda thought of moving it upstairs in the room before she turned to Rick again.
"Rick—" she called out. "D-do you think something happened last night?" she asked slowly. "I mean—between Beth and Carl—"
His hand that was drying his hair stopped as Rick looked at her. "As in?"
Amanda nodded. Rick looked lost for a few seconds before lowering his hand with the towel at his side. "I—I think I'm not ready to think on that yet."
"He's fifteen, Rick—" she reminded him. "I saw boys younger than him that got girls pregnant."
Rick gave her a look. "You're not making it easier for me, Amanda."
"I know. I'm the same. But Beth, well, you know how she is nowadays." She sat down on the bed's edge as Rick stayed up on his feet. She paused for a second before she confessed. "After Maggie's death, she asked me for condoms."
His eyebrows furrowed as Rick gave her another heavy look. "She said she didn't want to die a virgin," Amanda went on in a small voice. "Those bastards messed with her head. All that talk about being a virgin and dying,—and I—I once told her life is too short. She shot back at me with that, too."
Rick heaved a sigh.
"I talked her out of it, saying she should wait until we find a place before she decides truly," she continued. "Told her she wouldn't want her first time being like that, with someone she doesn't even know just to get it over with—" She darted her eyes away as Rick narrowed his, gazing at her. "She said then she would ask Carl."
"What?" Rick muttered, his eyes widening.
"Yeah—" Amanda heaved a sigh, too, playing with a wrinkle over the sheet, bowing her head. "She said I was right. She couldn't have it so casual, but Carl and she are friends." She paused, clearing her throat as she raised her eyes up at him. "She said other stuff, too. You know, actually made a bit of sense, too…like how they endure this world together, be there for each other…"
"Yeah—" Rick bobbed his head slowly, walking to sit on the bed beside her.
Amanda scooted to make room him. "Maybe I—I should give her one…" she murmured. "If she decides or something. Never hurt to be prepared."
Though, she herself wasn't. The condoms she had found on the supply run were still inside her backpack. Amanda didn't carry one herself now.
She wondered briefly what would've happened if they weren't interrupted by Judith this morning, or she didn't chicken out again in the shower but carried on. They would do it without condoms? Was she really ready for it? Hell, it didn't even feel like she was ready for sex, let alone fucking him again without condoms like their first time. She couldn't even imagine how that would make her feel now.
As she was dazzled off in her own musings, Rick was shaking his head. "No. Wait. I'll talk to Carl first." He put his hand over her knee lightly. "Learn what it was about last night."
Gazing at his light touch on her knee, Amanda swallowed, bowing her head. "She possibly saw him going downstairs and asked to come in." She paused again as Rick started rubbing her shoulder gently, moving his hand away from her knee.
Amanda twisted to him. "Carl. Do you think he's mad because I stayed with you last night?" she asked in a small voice, her eyes staring at him as she felt her defenses crumbling again. It was the same vulnerability she'd felt after her orgasm, for different reasons.
She turned away, shaking her head. She was getting better with Carl! She shot to her feet. First, her admission that she couldn't take him out, couldn't take that responsibility, and now this. She should've never stayed. Just should have gone back to her room as quickly as possible, so she couldn't have the damn morning jitters.
Because it felt damn like one. Amanda had been always very careful how to deal with her casual affairs, always making sure she lined up a good way to bail out without a fuss. She hated bringing her flings into her home, taking almost strangers into her bed. It was her home, her own bed and sneaking out of the others' houses was much easier than trying to send them out of yours.
And Amanda really hated dealing with the morning after.
She'd stopped one night stands because of the safety and health issues, understanding it wasn't really her style, too much of a hassle just to get laid, too damn risky as well, but fuckbuddies had to remain in carefully arranged boundaries to make it work. Even the problems with Michael and their friends with benefits relationship started when Amanda didn't let him stay overnight in her house, which ended up them having that talk about commitment, which made him finally call it quits when she said no.
Judith made a soft sound as if to whine at them for leaving her in the crib as they sat there silently, both lost in their own thoughts.
"Hey—" Rick called out, turning her to him, holding her at her upper arms. "Why don't you go out to the track and run a bit?" he offered, dipping his head a little, giving her a small smile, his hands slowly moving over her arms. Amanda wondered if he felt her distress. "I'll talk with Carl first, then find you, okay?" he went on, his gaze still on her. "We'll make a round before I go to see Deanna."
"Like old times?" she asked, looking up at him. "Making a patrol after my morning run?"
He pecked her on the lips. "Told you I missed our morning rounds," he murmured to her, smiling as Judith stared at them intently.
They both drew back under the baby's curiosity with seeing them snogging.
Amanda laughed lightly, feeling a bit better. "Someone is curious—" she remarked before she stood up and went to the bathroom to retrieve her chemise and thong. She couldn't stand there naked and put them on in front of Rick while Judith was awake.
Though, she'd forgotten her robe on the foot of the bed. With a sigh, she slipped on the garments, noticing his fingermarks on her thighs. She knew the way he held her was going to leave its trace behind, but he was also right. Only he could see it.
Rick had already put on his jeans and his denim blue shirt and was cinching his belt when she walked out of the bathroom in the silk chemise. His eyes trailed after her wordlessly as Amanda trekked in front of him looking ahead. Judith was in the crib once again, playing with her stuffed giraffe. Amanda put on the robe, too, and started walking over to the door.
Rick followed her. He took her in his arms again beside the door, angling his head downward for a goodbye kiss. Suddenly, it was so hard to leave him again while they slowly kissed, to leave his warmth, the way his arms cocooned around her—so hard. She should move, but her feet weren't listening to her will.
It was Rick who drew back a few minutes later, with that warm, kind smile. "Go now—" he told her, holding the door's handle. "Blow your hair dry, too. It's getting cold outside."
She smiled at the way he sounded, making sure she didn't get sick, her stomach making a flipflop on hearing the concern. She touched the side of his face as Rick half closed his eyes at the contact.
Amanda watched him again. Ricked liked these little affectionate gestures more than she realized, his light hand on her knee, her hand at his side under his shirt, gently stroking him. Amanda liked it, too, more than she would think, brushing her fingertips, enjoying the rugged sensation of his stubble as much as the silky texture of his hairy chest.
"Don't shave—" she whispered, running her fingers along the end of his jawline. "I like your stubble."
"As you wish," Rick said with a small smile, opening the door for her like a true gentleman.
Shaking her head at him, her lips curving in a small smile, Amanda poked her head out to make sure no one was outside in the corridor. She couldn't take any encounter right now, not even with Joan or Carol. She started moving, but Rick stopped her, gripping her elbow lightly. "Don't forget, you have a date tonight."
Her stomach making another flipflop, her smile enlarging, Amanda nodded before she slipped out.
# # #
Watching her slip out of his grip, Rick closed the door with a sigh. He guessed that the morning had gone well. He'd done what he always wanted, too, tasted her truly, sucking her in the places no one but him could see. When she came back in her chemise, Rick had noticed the marks his fingers had left on her, and the sight of them made him feel that possessive streak once more as much as her wet, wasted look in the shower after her orgasm.
The way she came was one of the most beautiful sights Rick had ever seen, the way she ground against his face with need, her thighs tightening on his head like clamps to get him further in her depths, directing his head to her secret places just like Rick wanted.
He wanted her like this, letting herself go completely with him, lowering her guard. He always wanted to see her naked, out of her armor, trusting him enough to be open. It hurt him when she drew away. Rick was opening up to her, letting her see him with his guard down, without his own armor. He might be bumping along the way, but he wanted them to be like this, sleeping in each other's arms like this. Make love and sleep in each other's arms the whole night. Each night. Each morning.
The need was there. Perhaps he was moving too quickly again, but Rick wanted it. After last night, that need wasn't something he could ignore anymore. Though, Amanda wasn't ready. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he was ready, either. Feeling a need, a craving, was different than being ready for it. And there was Carl, there was Judith, Beth—
Rick stopped for himself and repeated what she kept saying. What they kept saying. Time. They needed time. She'd opened up herself last night, too, and this morning, let him have her like this. Afterward, Rick became worried for a few minutes that they were going to have another episode, but she got out of it.
Perhaps they could finally get over it tonight. Amanda was truly like a spoiled kitten, having her claws retracted when she was well taken care of and soothed down. She wanted to be with him as strongly as Rick wanted her. She would have never slept with him like last night if she didn't. Tonight, Rick would pamper her, cook her dinner, and bring her flowers, a whole bouquet again. He would even find a few candles and light them, perhaps even cushions and blankets? They could sit on the ground like a picnic.
He could find a place somewhere inside, somewhere warm and cozy enough, flirt with her, pat her down, then ease her on her back… She would give in then. This morning they almost did it.
If Judith hadn't been in the bed with them, they were going to do it. Rick felt it. He remembered the feel of her lips on his skin, how her fingers traced across his chest and his stomach. God, he wanted her hands there, slipping under his shirt unconsciously, caressing him absently. It'd been too long—too long.
Yeah. Tonight, they would do it. Amanda would bring her condoms, too. She must feel like him, feel the anticipation. Tonight was going to be their night. He buckled his duty belt, looping the machete at his left hip. Even though his holster at his right hip was empty, Rick still liked feeling it. He approached the crib and picked up Judy while his baby girl was playing with the giraffe.
"Like the little giraffe?" he asked, tucking her at his side, looping his left arm.
He'd already checked her bottom before he started putting on his clothes, so they were good to go. He played with Judy for a little while, tossing her in the air to make her sputter into giggles before he started heading out of the room. "Let's go find something to eat, honey bun—"
The nickname reminded him of Amanda. Made of honey and cinnamon, it was how Amanda tasted, how she smelled. His smile quirked up further, thinking of that, perhaps, perhaps instead of pancakes, she could make him honey buns.
Or Rick could make her honey buns.
He could feed her honey buns with his own fingers after the dinner, and then Rick could get his own dessert. Taste her honey bun. His thoughts were starting to sprawl a bit too dirty for a man who was carrying his baby girl in his arms, so he cut them off and stepped out.
He climbed down the steps and headed into the kitchen. Carol was inside, preparing breakfast, and Rick picked up the cinnamon scent again. Looking around, Rick saw the oatmeal with cinnamon and honey left on the counter. Amanda had already left the house, but left him and Judith breakfast as Rick got ready.
The notion made him smile as Rick sat Judith in the highchair they'd found at the daycare. Drawing back, Rick turned to Carol. "Carol, do you have any program you need to attend after midday? Late afternoon?"
Turning to him, Carol gave him a look, almost mocking. "Well, I haven't started socializing yet, but yeah, that has been my thought, too—" she said casually.
Rick stared at her. Carol sighed. "You know go around, chatter. Be the kind, gentle lady everyone wouldn't mind talking to—" Looking all motherly and affectionate as she prepared another bowl of porridge, Carol smiled at him kindly before the smile dropped off her face a second later, and her face became stoic once more. "Someone needs to dig around here. And I'm the best viable option."
Curtly nodding, Rick accepted. "Yeah."
"Why do you ask?"
Suddenly Rick felt like he was fifteen or something and was asking something of his mother. The notion was ludicrous, but it tensed him. He cleared his throat. "Uh—I want to cook dinner for Amanda tonight. But I'd like some help if you're available."
A kinder look returned to Carol's eyes, but this time it wasn't fake. She smiled at him with a small, genuine smile. "What are you going to do?"
"I was thinking of a casserole—" Rick replied. "And honey buns for dessert. Can we make it?" he asked, gesturing at the supplies on the counter with his head.
Carol arched an eyebrow as Carl's voice suddenly remarked behind him. "Honey buns—" Rick heard his son's astonishment in his baffled tone. "You wanna make honey buns, dad?"
Rick turned around. "Uh, I'm gonna cook for Amanda tonight, son."
How Carl felt about that was clear in the way he clenched his jaw even without a word. Silently, his son walked to the island. Rick brought the oatmeal from the side of the stove to him, adding a spoon and setting it on in front of him. Carol silently slipped out of the kitchen, leaving them alone.
"She's gonna stay with you now?" Carl asked, his head bowed, taking the spoon. "I'm gonna sleep on the couch in the living room?"
"Don't be absurd—" Rick almost snapped, even though that was actually what he wanted, her staying with him, without Carl sleeping on the couch part, of course. They could arrange something.
"She came because of Judith and left after she went to sleep—" he told his son truthfully, his eyes finding his. "But she saw you bunking with Beth, so she came back."
To his credit, Carl's cheeks blushed. "Uh—she—she saw me going downstairs. Said she was bored. We talked," he explained. "I was going to leave, but she said she didn't want to be alone—" He paused, giving Rick an accusing look. "And Amanda still hadn't returned yet. It'd had been almost an hour." His voice turned colder. "Took you long to calm down Judith."
"Carl—"
"I'm just trying to understand if I'll really get kicked out of the room, dad."
Rick fixated the teenager a cool look. "You're as good as fifteen, already started sleeping with girls in the same bed. Perhaps you really should move out."
As the words left him, Rick also realized how true they were. Carl was turning fifteen the next month, a proper teenager now. Sharing his personal space with a baby and with his dad didn't sound to him like the best idea. His son needed some privacy. He took a step towards him and placed his hand on his boy's shoulder. "Son, if you need some privacy—"
"Oh, you really want to get me out from under your feet!" Carl shook his hand off his shoulder with a scoff, pushing the bowl in front of him away.
"Carl!"
His son's cool blue eyes found Rick. "Our photo—" he remarked with a voice as cool as his eyes. "It stayed in the prison. I want it back."
For a second or so, Rick couldn't understand what Carl was talking about before the penny dropped. Their family photo, the only photo Carl had remaining of Lori. "Son—" Rick started, softening his voice. "The prison is five hundred miles away and overrun. We can't go back."
"We can—" Carl insisted, his eyes never wavering. "It's risky, but we have to take the chance. Others would want to do it, too. Beth wants her father's Bible—" Again, for a second, Rick wondered to whom this crazy-ass plan actually belonged to for real. "We have to get them back."
"Carl—" Rick tried to reason with the teenager once more, keeping his voice placid. "It took us weeks to get here. Weeks. We can't go back—" he repeated, putting an emphasis in his words. "We can't."
If there was a way, any way, to get that photo back for Carl and Judith, Rick would bring down the mountains and boil the oceans to make it possible, but there wasn't. They simply couldn't look back anymore.
"Carl—" Rick tried again to make Carl understand, but glaring at him angrily, Carl pushed to his feet, dragging the stool over the kitchen's tile floor, scraping to make how he felt clearer, not that Rick would need any more indication for that.
"It was mom's only photo—" his son hissed. "Her only photo. Judy's never gonna know her now, dad." Carl's stark blue eyes found his again before he turned around. "But I guess you don't care about that much anymore."
# # #
The bedroom was empty like Amanda had already expected. Empty and tidy. Even the bed was made again, and no sign of Beth and Carl. After changing into the yoga pants and a crop top sweater she'd seen in one of the drawers, Amanda stepped out of the room and headed to the bathroom to dry her hair a bit before she went to the kitchen.
Rick was right. It was getting colder, best not to leave the house with wet hair. It almost brought a smile to her lips—Rick fretting over her. It was cute and was making her feel those flipflops again. Between her legs still felt sore, especially her hidden spot Rick had played a bit more roughly, nibbling at her sensitive flesh as he drove her mad. Even the thought of it made her feel strange again. Getting down to business, Amanda chased away the memory and quickly stirred oatmeal, mixing dried fruits with honey and cinnamon. She left it by the stove for Rick and Judith after taking herself a bowl.
Carol came in to fix the breakfast for Mika as Amanda started to leave the kitchen, but there were no signs of the others. The living room was deserted. "Did you see Beth?" she asked Carol.
The older woman nodded absently, pouring water into a glass. "Yeah, she's with Glenn."
Amanda gave a nod herself, quickly downing a few spoonfuls of porridge.
"You going running?" Carol asked.
She bobbed her head, remembering Carol had never seen her running at the prison, because the woman wasn't there. "Yeah—" Taking another spoonful, she swallowed the warm mash. "Mika—" she began, "How is she?"
Carol sent her a terse look, sipping from her water. "How do you expect?" she retorted. "She's managing."
"I wish I could do more for her after—after—" She swallowed again even though she wasn't gulping anything. "After Lizzie," she went on, straightening her back a little. "She—she witnessed something terrible."
Mika had never looked like she'd been very bothered, but things had been hard for a long time. Perhaps she should see that psychologist. The notion irked her, but they were still out of their depths regarding such a trauma. Perhaps even Beth should see the therapist. A shiver almost passed through her, imaging to open up that to Beth.
"Do you think she should see the psychologist of the town?" Amanda slowly asked for Carol's opinion.
The older woman gave her a long look, before smiling that way of hers, a bit kind, a bit cool, a bit stern. "I think we all should see a shrink—" she commented, "But no. Best wait to see how she'll settle. We should tread carefully before spilling the beans."
Amanda nodded. She knew it wasn't a good idea. Things between the townspeople and them were strained since the beginning. Aside from the Reese sisters and people Deanna had appointed them, no one had come yet. They were watching them warily from afar. Amanda could share the sentiment. Perhaps they were still waiting for their probation time to be over to mingle with them. She recalled the talk they had last night on the porch before she got sidetracked with Rick. Either we find a common ground, or else we take it.
God, they'd been here what—three days and already started planning a mutiny. Then Joan walked into the kitchen, her expression as cold as ice. She looked like she didn't sleep a wink last night. Amanda felt the pressure weigh heavier, suppressing a sigh.
She wanted to leave the house and cool off. The need was rising strong in her, everything becoming too much again. If she saw Carl now too—nope.
She jerked her head at Joan as a greeting and ushered herself out. Outside, the chilly morning air of late October hit her, and Amanda really felt better. She pulled her hair up in half-ponytail, feeling the still wet roots. She hoped she wouldn't get sick, but she didn't care. She wanted to run now. She felt her feet almost itching.
She eyed the red tarmac, and of course, the ditzy blonde was on the tracks just like always.
Ignoring her as she vanished at the other side of the track, Amanda stepped out, too. She kept a slow pace first, a simple trotting for warming up. She felt the wind cracking at her face more as she circled the track. Ahead of her, Beatrice was running with a steadier pace, but Amanda dutifully kept their distance. The chatty woman was all for the chatter, and Amanda wasn't in the mood.
But it felt good, being on the track, feeling the wind at her face as she ran, the town slowly stirring up from its slumber. Her feelings were still in turmoil, but this was simple. She just ran. She picked up a pace a bit faster as she warmed up more, still not tiring herself on the first day, letting her muscles get accustomed again. She needed time before she could reach to her utmost agility again.
Time—
She cursed inwardly. She was beginning to hate that word, too! Speeding up, Amanda tried to push away the thoughts, only letting herself focus on the next step, even though she still felt that aching soreness between her legs.
On her next lap, Beatrice fell in beside her, slowing her pace. Amanda almost groaned, but kept it inside at the last moment.
"Hey, you're a runner, too?" the girl asked, breathing laboriously, her lavish ponytail at the top of her head swinging with each step. Amanda's own half up ponytail must be swinging in the same way, just less pretentiously. Everything Beatrice Reese did had that pretentious dramatic artistry. Last night, Amanda had felt so womanly, so feminine in the silk lingerie and robe, but now beside Beatrice, there was none of it. She felt as blunt and curt as ever.
She never ran like Beatrice. Beatrice had an idle, languorous rhythm as she ran, whereas Amanda ran like she was preparing for war.
The idea bugged her, and she shot a look over to the blonde. "Yeah—" she said curtly and wondered if it would be terribly rude of her if she just passed her by, hastening her pace. As tempting as the idea sounded, Amanda kept her pace with Beatrice's.
"Do you work out?" Beatrice asked, taking her silence for an interest in small talk. "I do. Pilates. Sometimes yoga, too," she chattered on, jumping on her feet lightly as they halted.
"We have a yoga studio and a reformer machine in the gym, but no one other than me really utilizes them." The way Beatrice said that felt like she thought of it like one of the seven sins. "Clarice dances ballet, but I think she hates it," she went on, her brows pinching. "Aiden and his gang usually just hit the boxing ring. Sometimes Pete joins them, too. Men—" she breathed out with a scoff, completely stilling. "Getting all sweaty and testosterony."
"You have a boxing gym, too?" she said, her head whipping at the younger woman.
Amanda hadn't still seen the gym completely, but the idea of a boxing gym intrigued her more than yoga and Pilates at the moment. They were good to get in shape and build muscle strength, endurance, and elasticity when she started her training class, but boxing…
She needed to get better. Train harder. She'd sat down on her ass long enough. What had happened in the woods could not happen again. Never. Never again.
She couldn't have fought, couldn't have held her ground against two people at the same time! Amanda was going to learn how to stand against three. She'd become a bit better in the woods for tracking and hunting during the weeks after the church, but she was going to get better.
She should start looking for her training field, start preparing. They had to be prepared. Always. Rick was right on that. They couldn't lose this place, this security, but they had to be prepared.
With a curt nod, she left the girl, not caring if she was rude or anything, then went on circling the track. Less than half of an hour later, Rick found her. His expression was nothing like in the morning, his jaw was set, his expression stern. Amanda realized their realities had really kicked back in.
He must've had another spat with Carl. Not that Amanda was surprised. She knew the teenager wasn't going to like this.
She almost heaved a sigh as Beatrice passed them by, halting in her steps on seeing Rick, too. "Good morning, Sheriff—" she cooed flirtingly and wriggled an eyebrow at him. "Found any skeletons in the closets?"
Amanda turned her head aside, a clear dismissive gesture if anyone would care to read. She wondered if Beatrice was…reading. Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda picked up Rick's look as it was directed at the heiress, but there was no humor in his expression.
"No, not yet—" Rick answered stiffly.
Not taken back with his cold answer as she moved backward, Beatrice threw a cocky smile at him. "Not surprising," she laughed out, her voice almost melodical. "We're a bunch of very boring people." With a little wink, she turned and started running off again.
Amanda turned and stared at Rick. He shrugged; his expression still tense. "You talked with Carl?" Amanda asked, moving her attention completely away from the ditzy heiress.
Rick bobbed his head a little. "Yeah."
"I assume it didn't go well—"
"Not only that—" he replied. "He said he wants to go back to the prison."
To her credit, Amanda managed to swallow down a curse. "Wh—what?"
Rick nodded again, looking over to her. "Beth, too—" he went on. "I think it even might be her idea." And why wasn't Amanda surprised? "Carl said she wanted to retrieve her father's Bible, and Carl wants to find Lori's photo." Rick slanted her a look to see her reaction. A twinge in her chest tugged, but Amanda schooled her expression not to let it show.
"There was a photo of all of us he brought from home when we returned to my county looking for guns before," Rick explained. "Carl wants it for Judith. He became angry when I said we can't return. He—he said—" Rick continued quietly, "he doesn't have anything else to show Judy how her mother looked like."
Her jealousy fading, it left in its place a sadness. Amanda looked at him, sudden tears threatening to break over. "I'm sorry—" she muttered, not knowing what else to say.
Bowing his head, Rick gave her another half nod. "We can't. We can't go back," he whispered, his hoarse voice not laden with lust like last night, but full of weariness. She moved in on him and brushed her fingers over the side of his face, not caring who would see them.
Rick looked up at her, his head still bowed as Amanda stroked him gently, knowing that affectionate gesture would distract him from his weary, dark thoughts. She could at least do that much for him.
"Amanda—" Rick whispered, almost closing his eyes at her touch, moving his head slightly over her fingers, his voice so heavy with things they had left unsaid between them.
She opened her mouth. She didn't know what to say—what she could say—but she still felt she had to do something—do something…
Loud clamors rang in the air. Their heads whipped around at the sounds as they realized it was coming from the main gate.
The next second, they started running to the gate.
Some things never really changed; Amanda thought to herself with a snicker as they ran at top speed just before his name started echoing too—
"RICK!"
This time it was Sasha and Bob, coming down from the bell tower. Amanda had heard the woman saying this morning she was going to check it. "What happened?" Rick asked. "Walkers?"
Sasha shook her head. "I saw from up there—" she waved her head at the bell tower. "It's Daryl and Joan!"
Then Amanda understood. She swallowed down a curse. They—they just couldn't wait! Rick said he was going to talk to Deanna!
When they arrived, Daryl was already upon a man Amanda hadn't met yet. He must be one of the guards, as he had a gun. Inside the walls, no one was allowed to be armed, but on duty, the guards were to carry firearms. The man looked angry and foolishly was about to get a fight with Daryl.
"She's comin' with me—" Daryl roughed out, hitting the man's chest with his own. "Another word from you, I knock your teeth out."
Amanda arched an eyebrow as Daryl really looked like he was about to carry on with the threat, too. It was curious. Much like herself, under his surly roughness, Daryl had that simmering violent part he kept well repressed, but Amanda had seen the way the hunter lost his cool a couple of times in the woods and beat the shit out of the rotters.
It was as wild and savage as Rick's beastly side, but Amanda had never seen Daryl getting that confrontational with anyone before. Usually, he would just send a seething glare and bark some surly, sassy comment with his heavy accent, and usually, it was enough.
But not this time. The guard shook his head. "I told—"
Daryl's arm raised— "Daryl!" Amanda screamed just as at the same time Rick lunged forward.
Rick grabbed the rising arm, fingers already fisted, before it collided into the man in front of him, towing Daryl into a hold. "Easy, man—" Rick hollered, trying to drag him away.
"You can't keep her inside!" Daryl shouted as Rick still tried to drag him by force.
"Deanna's word!"
"I don't care!" Daryl broke Rick's grip and charged at the man again, but grabbing him at his neck once more, Rick pulled him back and threw him aside.
"Both of you—" Rick yelled as Amanda moved to Joan. "Stop!"
"Joan! What are you doing here?" she asked with a rough whisper, tossing the nurse a terse glance.
Three days! Three fucking days! They just couldn't last three days before things became complicated again at all fronts!
"I'm not going to stay in!" Joan spat with the same ire as Rick wrestled with Daryl to keep him contained as more people from the town joined to watch the scene they were making. "I will NOT!"
"We won't—" Amanda started, but she was cut off again, this time by Aiden Monroe as he arrived with the newcomers.
"What the hell is happening here?"
The guard turned to his leader. "The nurse wants to go to the woods—" he spat. "They said they're going to set up snares."
"Snares?" Turning to Rick and Daryl, Aiden sounded surprised. "For god sake, why do you want to set up snares?" he asked, shaking his head. "We have food."
Rick let Daryl got and the hunter walked up on Aiden. "Because I damn well want to."
"You go—" Aiden replied, looking back at Daryl coldly before he jerked his head at Joan. "She stays. Mother's orders."
Daryl took a step forward, and Aiden flicked a look at Rick. "You get a grip on your people, Grimes."
This time it was Rick who started stalking the younger man, pushing Daryl back. "And you, too, Monroe—" Rick rasped, his eyes glinting with that sharp edge as he glared at Aiden.
Amanda decided that it was high time to cut off all the testosterone leaking out of them. She walked between them just at the moment Deanna's voice came from behind her.
"That's ENOUGH!" They all turned to face the town's leader. "Everyone. Move out." She fixed a look at all three men. "No one leaves today. Aiden—" She looked at his son. "I told you I want your report on my desk this morning." Her eyes shifted to the guard. "You—get back to your post."
She turned to the crowd after that. "All of you, go back to your houses. Rick—come with me. It appears we need to have another talk."
With that, the old woman spun on her heel and walked away. One by one, everyone listened to the orders, started leaving, even Daryl.
Rick's eyes moved to her, and they shared a glance before he started following Deanna.