"Deanna said explore."

He looks real good, all shaved, new clothes, an' he looks at me in such'way that I jus' wanna get up an' go t'him, be close. Take his hand, lead him away somewhere. Be alone wit'him, and yes, explore. Instead, I jus' shake m'head.

"Nah. I'll stay."

He nods, but doesn' move, doesn' look away. His eyes look me all over, until I feel like squirmin'. He does that sometimes, look at you til you feel he knows all ya secrets. I'm almos' ready t'say something else, jus' to make him stop looking, but then he speaks.

"Feeling better?"

I nod. It's true. Once the second lot of antibiotics stayed down I started feelin' better. An' Pete might be a creep but he made m'arm hurt less straight away. It hardly hurts at all, now.

"You slept ok."

Tha's not a question. I look at him more closely, an' again have t'fight the urge to get up an' go t'him. Now all I wan' is take him back inside and put him to bed, though. He looks hardly less tired than he has t'last few weeks, even all cleaned up like. Again, I don' move. But I do try an' let 'im know with a look that I can tell he's not so good yet.

"You didn', did'y?"

He looks away, squints into t'distance. Rubs his eyes in tha' way I've seen a thousand times or more. He's done, exhausted. He needs t'rest. I wonder if he'll ever get t' tho. His position is so difficult, no matter here or out there.

"No, I didn't. Too… I don't know, weird? Too quiet…"

"Yeah, I know wha' y'mean."

I wasn't really in any state t'notice it las' night but I've been thinkin' it ever since I woke up. It's spooky quiet. And the people I've seen… they look totally oblivious to what's goin' on out there. To wha' we've seen, done.

I don't like it. It's not jus' that I can' let another bunch o'people get close, just to lose them again after a minute, though that thought makes me feel proper sick again right away. 's also t'thought tha' this is a trap. It's too easy t'become like them, forget what it was like ou' there. And then, when this ends, which I'm sure it will cos nothing good ever lasts now, we'll have forgotten how t'survive. The thought scares the crap outta me.

And there's another thing. I just can' figure out how I'll fit in here. What will they need me for? Why keep me around if we don' need t'hunt t'eat, and don' need t'kill walkers every few seconds? And t'thought that scares me t'most and that's been on m'mind since I work up: He won' need me around now. What'll keep him from just walkin' away, find someone else, someone easier t'be round, when we haven' even had a chance t'be somethin' yet?

He's moving towards the veranda steps now. I don' know what makes me speak, maybe the fear tha's coursing through me, tha's making m'feel sick again.

"Rick…"

"Hmm?"

He looks back at me, really looks, and I'm glad now that he does. He's not distracted. Maybe he's not as keen to "explore" this place as he makes out? Suddenly I feel a bi' more hopeful.

"We gotta remember. What it's like out there… This place, 't'll slow us down…"

I know 'm not so good at saying these things, but he usually gets me, when it counts. He takes a few steps towards me, an' for a moment I think he'll come all the way. But then he stops. He still looks at me, though, with that look that doesn' let go.

"We won't, Daryl. Nothing will change. We are still who we are, and nothing comes before that, all right?"

I force a nod. He looks satisfied, and with a small wave finally descends the steps down t'the pavement. I watch him go, an' wish I was as certain as he.