The Kingdom was something that I wasn't expecting. Well, I wouldn't have known what to expect, but this- This wasn't what I would have imagined. There was a corral for the horses. The brick buildings had white trim. There was a gazebo where people sat and chatted. A garden, a clothes line, and people glancing up as the men who found me rode with me through the community. Picnic tables dotted the area they took me through.

"What was this place before?" I whispered, feeling awed by the simplicity of the life here contrasting against the opulence of the buildings.

"School." One of my companions grunted.

I nodded, thinking it must have been a boarding school for diplomats' children or politicians and the rich. I felt a flash of curiosity about Deanna's boys, and whether they attended school here. I was still taking in my surroundings when the horses halted. We were in front of a building with the words "Post Theater" engraved into the white wood trim. I was helped down and pushed forward, toward the steps of the building.

"Go on," the man who'd rode behind me said, coming up behind me. "You have to be presented to King Ezekiel. He'll decide what to do with you."

King Ezekiel? What did you expect, my mind screamed, it's called the fucking Kingdom after all? I walked up the steps, wondering if I looked as certain as Negan had said I had when I left the tree line that first night. And then inside, I was directed toward the actual theater, and seated on a throne with a tiger at his side was a man I had to assume was the king himself.

I bowed. What else could I do? Clearly this was some type of cosplay kingdom, yet they all seemed to be taking their roles pretty damn seriously. And if I wanted to find a place here, then I'd play along.

"Rise up, young maiden." Dear Lord, are you serious? "I am King Ezekiel. Who are you?"

I truly hoped that this theatrical man, with his graying dreads and regal attempts didn't expect me to go 'Shakespeare in the park'. "Jessica Grimes, your majesty." I answered, rising and looking him straight in the eye.

"Grimes?" Ugh, there it was again, recognition. "Are you related to Rick Grimes?" I closed my eyes and prayed for composure.

"Yes, I'm his oldest daughter, sir." I answered, breathing through my nose, hoping that he wouldn't send me away.

He gestured for the men who were clearly still crowding me to move, or leave. "I thought you were-"

I wondered if I was supposed to be dead? Or a traitor? Or something truly offensive? "I offered myself as a trade for Glenn Rhee's life, sir. I had no idea that I wouldn't die for it. I-" I glanced down, collecting myself. "I left the Sanctuary. I feel I won't be welcome in Alexandria, and even if I am, I'd rather not return."

I could see the questions in his eyes when I raised my head. Questions that bubbled and churned. I was surprised he fought them off. "We have two of your people here, Jessica." Shit. Who? He nodded at the men who hadn't left, but had pulled back. "Have a seat, please. I'd like to see what they have to say."

Great. More people who would assume I was a turncoat. Or that I was dead. Or who knew what else I'd have to face. More expectations. More crap that I was trying to avoid.

I was surprised when 'my' two people arrived. Carol? Morgan? What the hell? Carol took one look at me and rushed forward, pulling me from my seat and hugging me to her. I felt myself lean into the comfort she was giving me. And Morgan met my eyes over her shoulder. I didn't see it. The judgement. The disappointment.

"Jessi," Carol breathed, pulling back and brushing my hair from my face. "I thought you were-" She pulled me back into another hug. "I thought you gave up, sweetheart. I thought you gave up."

I felt the burning in my eyes warning of tears and fought them. I shook my head and she released me. "I did too." I lost the fight, tears brimmed over and were running down my cheeks. "I can't go back, Carol." It was a whisper, but she heard me and nodded. She moved away from me and I heard her approach the king.

"Jessi," Morgan was staring at me, at whatever expression had taken over my face. He shook his head, his eyes tight. "I worried," he started, moving closer, but not touching me. "I thought that you might have-"

I brushed the wetness from my face. "That I'd traded sides?" I asked, shaking my head at the horrified look he shot me. "No? That seems to be the popular opinion in Alexandria." I fought to regain my control. "No one understood, I guess." Feigning a lack of concern was harder when your face was challenging it. "I just can't-" I shook my head again. Not able to continue my sentence as the feeling of pain took over.

"Jessica Grimes," King Ezekiel's voice sounded powerful, but gentle at the same time, a rare talent if I'd ever heard one. "Carol has vouched for you, and so, I welcome you to The Kingdom."

Carol insisted I come to her house. That I stay with her. And Morgan followed us, letting the two of us walk side by side, letting us have some privacy. It was unnecessary since I was silent during the walk. And Carol, knowing far better than most what I was dealing with, let me have the quiet.

Her house was quaint, on the fringes of the Kingdom, surrounded by the same type of walker warning system I knew from my time at Daryl's side. Seeing the ring of noise making paraphernalia made my heart clench painfully at the mere thought of him, and I thought I hid it, but Carol's hand found mine and gave it a squeeze. I'd never escape them, any of them, I realized no matter where I went. Memories would torment me until the day I finally died.

Inside was just as cozy as the exterior, and I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room that was clearly meant to be a living room, unsure of what to do. "Sit, Jessi," Carol offered, gesturing toward her couch.

I sat, hands clasped in my lap, waiting for it. The interrogation. The questions. The curiosity that was no doubt flowing through her and Morgan. Nothing came. I heard a bit of rattling in another room, and looked up to find that I was alone in the room. No Morgan. No Carol.

I sighed and let myself sink into the sofa. I hadn't rested since leaving the Sanctuary. I didn't trust that I wouldn't be ambushed by walkers or worse humans. I let my eyes shut, for a moment, and when I opened them again, it was dark outside. It took a moment for me to remember where I was, but when I did, I wondered where Carol was.

"I'm right here, Jessi." Her voice came from my right, and I saw that she was sitting on the other side of the couch. I'd fallen asleep sitting up. "You look exhausted."

I couldn't even find the energy to snort. I was exhausted. Completely and totally. "It's been a long couple of-" I stopped. It seemed like it had been a long couple of years. My entire life was just a long series of pushing forward when I should have been sitting it out, it seemed. I sighed. "Thank you." I offered.

"Hey," I turned to look at her. "You don't have to thank me, Jessi." She smiled, and I could see the guilt in her eyes. "We really didn't take care of you, did we?" She asked, studying me far too closely for my comfort.

"I don't know what you mean, Carol." I deflected. I ran my hand down my face and nearly laughed. Dear God, had I picked up Negan's habit? "I'm tired, but I'm fine."

She shook her head, I saw it from the corner of my eye. "You're tired, but you're not fine, Jessi." I started to speak, but she stopped me. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter." I heard her give a bit of a chuckle, but didn't know what she found funny.

"Everyone seems to think they know me, Carol. What do you see when you look at me?" I asked, wondering if she saw a martyr, a broken woman, or a suicidal mess?

She moved over, close enough to offer comfort if necessary, but still leaving me space. "I see a woman who shouldered every single thing that life and her people threw her way without a single complaint. I see a woman who loved so deeply that people took it for granted. I see a woman who would have taken on everyone else's loss or sorrow or pain, just to keep them from feeling it. And I see a woman who offered her own damn life in the place of someone else's because she gave up HOPE and wanted someone who still had it to live." She took my hand in hers, and squeezed it. "Am I close?"

My tears were falling again, even as I shook my head, trying to deny how right she was. "You all did the best you could." I was absolving her of any type of guilt she might have had, that they might have had.

"There it is." She said, drawing my attention to her face. Her smile was sad. "You're doing it again. You're trying to make ME feel better about failing YOU." She shook her head and she brushed my hair out of my face again. "Jessi, we were a family, we ALL should have seen it. We should have seen that you were breaking, but we didn't. Not a single one of us." Another shake of her head. "I can't believe I made you come to defend Rick. I should have seen it." She meant when all hell broke loose in Alexandria, the day Dad saw a glimpse of it. "So worried about those three questions, but never worried about the real cost."

I pulled my hand from hers to swipe my tears away. "No one needed to fix me, Carol. Not when we're constantly fighting everything this world keeps tossing at us." I stared at a framed print on her wall. "Everyone had their own burdens. No one needed to take on mine."

"You took on ours." She reminded me, voice as quiet as mine. "Jesus, Daryl-" She stopped, seeing me flinch at the mention of his name. The thought that she would dare question his motives or his love for me, that the mention of his name would now be forever linked to Negan. To his insistence that I give up Daryl and his memory. "Jessi? Have you seen him?"

My eyes stayed on the painting. "I've been back to Alexandria twice since-" I didn't have to say since when I knew she'd fill in the blanks. "He stared a hole in me the first time. I doubt he noticed me the second." I was proud of how I sounded like I didn't care.

"I've seen him. And your dad." She offered, but my eyes were following the lines of the painting. "He misses you, Jessi. He, they love you so much, honey."

I nodded. I didn't doubt either assumption. I'm sure they did, or they told themselves they did. That they SHOULD miss me, that they SHOULD still love me. "You aren't going to try to talk me into going back are you?" I had to know, because if that was something she wanted, then I would leave. I would venture into the unknown. I would become completely isolated before I was forced back.

"No." She was firm. "I can understand you needing space." And then it came, a question I should have anticipated, but didn't. "Negan? Did he force you to-"

"NO." My tone startled her, I felt her body tense. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" I closed my eyes and turned to face her again. "He isn't like that." With me, I added in my head, since I wasn't sure his wives would tell the same story. "He-" how do I explain it without giving anything too intimate away? "He helped me break free from-"

"You wanted to die." She said it so matter-of-fact that I knew she understood. "He helped you through that?" I nodded, praying she wouldn't pry further. "That's one good thing he's done." She sniffed, and I could tell it pained her to even give him that much credit. "I made some stew, would you like some?" A change of topics was welcome, and I nodded again.

Days in the Kingdom were different. I offered to do any job that needed done, bar planning for what was to come between the Saviors and Ezekiel's people. I had a feeling they wouldn't have agreed to allow me to join even if I was amiable. There wasn't the same distrust I'd seen in Alexandria here, but I knew that my last name, and my disinterest in returning to Dad's side was enough to make some question my purpose in their community.

Laundry duty. I nearly laughed at the irony of being given laundry duty. Once upon a time, I'd become a hunter and tracker just to escape laundry duty.

I didn't complain or talk much at all while working. Getting lost in the physical aspect of the job, letting muscle memory be retaught to do this rather menial task was a form of escape too. I spent my day washing clothes for the community. Bedding, linens, clothing I washed and hung. I folded the dried batches, and I helped sort with the other workers, who showed me their system.

When I was dismissed, I'd walk back to Carol's. Usually she was waiting for me, but if she wasn't, I'd sit on the top step of her porch and look out over the grass. I'd watch it bend in the slight wind. I'd let my mind pretend for a while that I wasn't hiding and waiting.

Carol would make us dinner. We'd sit in her living room, and she'd try to get me to open up more. Not as antagonistic as Negan, she usually managed to get me to talk a bit before I'd feel she pushed too hard and I'd close down again. ANY criticism toward Dad, Daryl, or anyone I considered family or, in the case of Negan that I felt anything for, was off limits.

And then it happened. I had just come back, with our clean laundry in tow, when Carol told me to sit down. I knew, from her tone, from the way she could hardly look into my eyes, that it was time. That they were going to be heading to the first round of a war that I wanted no part in. And for once, the only time I truly remembered feeling this way, I didn't want anyone to say goodbye to me before leaving. I didn't want to see her go. I didn't want to see Morgan walk away.

I also knew that I'd sit behind in the relative safety of The Kingdom, waiting, and feeling like I was hovering in limbo. And I wondered, whomever came back, what would they find in my place?