The cabin was deserted with no walkers in sight. Its front door was slightly ajar, which slightly worried Ana. It was wooden, although the wood was damp with mold and moss growing on the inside. It harbored a total of three windows, two in the front and one in the back. Ana had wanted to move from the cabin because she had a hard time deeming whether or not it was safe to leave by looking out the windows.

There was no second floor, and the cement basement was flooded because of broken pipes. The bed in the only bedroom was rickety, so Ana preferred to sleep on the couch that sagged to the ground underneath her weight. She had made a small fire pit where a stove once stood, so that smoke could gently rise into the chimney instead of into the house. Every time she cooked, Ana made sure that the smoke didn't turn black.

Now, she looked up at the house, almost disgusted that she lived here when she was a few miles away from Alexandria the entire time. Rick said no words, only grabbed his knife and prepared to kill some walkers.

Ana walked to the front door. There was no porch, yet the cabin was lifted slightly off the ground. She stepped up and pushed the door open, knife at the ready in case anything was about to jump out at her. When she didn't hear any sounds, she walked further in, the floorboards creaking underneath her sneakers.

The cabin looked just as it had last time she was there, and nothing was out of place. Her couch still had a blanket strewn across it, the fire pit still had a crusty pan on top of it. With a small grin, Ana happily walked towards the floorboard where she kept her bag. It was to the right of the couch, the floorboard next to the pink tiles that decorated the kitchen floor. While she did so, Rick scoped out the rest of the cabin, assuring that no walkers would be sneaking up on the two. When he was finished, he walked into the living room to find Ana digging through the floor. He advanced towards the couch, and noticed pictures on top of the coffee table. A few of them were of Ana and another man. The man was taller than she was, had black hair and a long face. They were both smiling at each other. Rick let loose a sad smile, remember how he found his house emptied of all the pictures. He also wondered who the man was, surprised that Ana never told him or anything that she had a family.

Ana grabbed the black duffel bag from underneath the floor, heaved it onto her shoulders and turned around to see Rick staring at her pictures. His posture was relaxed now. She walked towards him and grabbed the pictures, shoving them into a free pocket in the bag.

"I can carry that," Rick offered. Ana shook her head.

"You have the gun," she reminded him. Without a response, she headed towards the front door. She knew that Rick would have an idea of where the highway was, so she let him lead.

Ana walked at a brisk pace behind Rick, constantly shoving the strap of the duffel bag towards her neck. The heavy contents weighed her down, so Rick maintained at least a two-yard lead. Ana curiously watched as Rick led her back to the highway, confused on how he knew which way was which. He seemed to be a walking compass. As they had on their way to the cabin, they walked in complete silence. Every so often, Ana heard a small sigh or a sharp intake of breath from the man but he said nothing other than that. She figured he was the same as her, only saying what needs to be said without much small talk. Or maybe he wasn't comfortable around her yet. Then again, she wasn't exactly cozying up to his personality either.

The fact that he walked ahead of her had some merit, though. It proved he trusted her not to ambush him, even if he didn't trust her enough to discuss future plans with her.

Her feet crunched down on the leaves and twigs beneath her sneakers. Besides this, Ana heard nothing but the soft sound of wind blowing through dense branches, and Rick's breaths. In front of her, she saw a clearing in the woods, where she assumed the road was. She internally thanked Rick because a few minutes ago she started to assume they were lost. Her feet continued forward as she looked up at the sky, trying to find the sun shining through a mass of green leaves. Rick stopped abruptly, but with her head up she hadn't noticed. As she continued walking forward, she felt herself collide with the man.

He turned around and stared at her for a minute. Lowering her head, her eyes met his.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, and took a few steps backwards. Rick remained indifferent to the situation, and reached towards his belt. He loosened his walkie-talkie and spoke directly into it.

"Daryl?" he asked.

No response. Rick muttered something under his breath and tried again.

"Daryl?" His voice was more stern, almost agitated.

When there was still no response he said, "shit."

"Maybe he found a place," Ana said.

"What?" Rick asked.

Ana wasn't sure whether Rick didn't understand the sentence or didn't hear her, so she sheepishly repeated it. He continued looking at her for a moment, before nodding and bringing his hand up to his chin to think.

"Yeah," he said, "yeah he might've found some supplies." He continued thinking as Ana watched the gears in his head turn. "We're a dozen miles from Alexandria."

"Should we walk back?"

"You think you can carry it that far?" Rick asked, pointing to the back. Ana said yes, despite the fact that the strap on her shoulder was starting to create a mark. She quickly switched shoulders, and advanced towards the highway. Rick strode beside her at a calm pace and soon enough, their feet hit solid asphalt. Before she could ask which way they came, Rick picked a direction and lead her forwards again. She didn't mind dragging behind him, but was also curious as to why he wouldn't walk next to her.

The sun was already starting to set above Ana, so she figured it was about four or five. Time had passed rather quickly. Once again, the bright sun started to hurt her head. She realized she had no water on her after her saliva production decreased. She spotted a bottle in Rick's pocket, but was conflicted as to what he would say should she ask for it. Eventually, she became thirsty enough to confront him. His head turned down at her as she eyed the water bottle.

"Can I have some?" she asked. Surprisingly, Rick answered by pausing, removing the water bottle from his pocket and tossing it at her. She grabbed it with both hands and anxiously screwed off the lid, pouring a small amount into her mouth and swishing it around. After a few swishes, she felt satisfied and handed the water bottle back to Rick. He put it in its original place when the walkie-talkie gave off a series of static sounds before a voice came through.

"Rick," came Daryl's southern voice. Rick closed his eyes in relief before replying.

"Daryl, where the hell have you been?" he said, a hint of anger in his tone.

"Ran into this sonofa bitch. Got him tied in th' back of a truck. Dude calls himself Jesus."

"We're on the main road, bout eleven miles from Alexandria," Rick informed him.

"Be there soon," Daryl said. Then there was quiet. Ana assumed Rick would continue walking, but when he didn't she sat down on the edge of the road and listened for walkers or the sound of a truck. The ground was hot, so she scooted until her butt rested in the cooler grass. She crossed her legs, placing her dainty hands in her lap. Rick glanced down at her, observing the way she sat with her shoulders hunched forward, her feet neatly tucked under each knee. He noticed the few scars she bore on the meaty part of her calf, and felt like asking where they came from. Her black hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, although a few strands hung down past her ears. She used her fingers to place them behind her ears again. She knew that Rick was watching her and forbid herself from looking back at him. Instead, she focused her attention down. Her eyes found a few ants crawling along the road, along with a couple of pill bugs. She reached her hand out, allowing the pill bug to crawl onto her fingers, then onto her hand. Occasionally it ventured up her arm, yet always returned to her palm. Rick decided to sit down next to her, stretching his legs out in front of him as he took a sip of water.

"You play with bugs often?" he joked. Ana turned her head towards him to show that she was smiling at his small joke, but didn't speak.

"When I was a kid," Rick started, "I used to trap spiders in small jars with my father. We would find them on the walls or on the ceilings in the house. Used to pretend they were in spider jail for trespassing. I let them go eventually. My father told me if I kept them in the jars long enough they would die. I took them outback by the trees and released them."

"Did any of them die?" she asked quietly.

Rick laughed. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "One of them died. I was devastated that I killed another creature. He suffocated in front of me, I thought he was just dancing. My father said he couldn't feel pain like we did."

"Lying is good, sometimes."

"I suppose so. Who would've thought that the kid who cried over killing a spider would wind up being me? I've killed so many people I've lost count," he said in disbelief.

"We do what we need to survive."

"Guess you're right."

Ana continued playing with the bug as Rick watched. She wasn't sure whether she should say something to him. He told her a piece of his story, should she open up to him? She didn't get the chance to before a truck sounded in the distance. Ana scraped the bug off her hand into the grass and stood up alongside Rick. He was staring intently into the distance, watching as a white truck neared them. When it pulled in front of them, Daryl stepped out of the driver's seat. Rick slid in as Daryl opened the back door of the truck. Ana figured she would take the passenger seat. Through the window, she saw a second man sitting in the back seat. His hands were tied, his head facing down. He seemed to be sleeping or knocked out. Despite the uneasy feeling this gave Ana, she walked in front of the car, around the side and sat next to Rick. She placed the duffel bag onto her legs. Her eyes drifted back towards the prisoner in the car. He had long brown hair that chiseled out his handsome face. He wore a beanie to cover the top of his head, as well as a nice leather jacket. As soon as the group was settled amongst the new guy, Daryl launched into a story of how the joker that called himself Jesus stole a truck of supplies, launching into motion a cat and mouse game that had one ending - Jesus getting knocked out by said truck rolling as it rolled down a hill and submerged itself in a lake.

"Sounds like he took a pretty hard hit," Rick said, "Denise needs to look him over."

Ana liked Denise. She was kind and understanding. She took an instant liking to Ana, and whenever Ana came in for an injury, Denise would teach her how to treat it. Daryl muttered a small "yeah" in response, and then looked towards the scenery outside his window. Ana did the same, watching as tree branches covered the setting sun for a quick second before it emerged again.

"You wouldn't have left him," Rick continued, although it seemed clear that Daryl did not want to speak about the matter.

"I woulda," Daryl defended himself, "sonofa bitch was more trouble than what he's worth."

"So why did you save him?" Ana asked quietly.

"Figured he got a camp somewhere. Better we know who's near us," Daryl answered.

Ana remained quiet for the rest of the drive home. It took half an hour, although by the time they arrived at Alexandria's gates, the sun was down. They pulled in the gate, and Daryl and Rick began to carry Jesus towards Denise's house. Ana offered help, but was met with silence as they hauled the man away. So, she hiked the bag further onto her shoulder and headed for home to take inventory of her new supplies.

The neighborhood was quiet, a lot of people were in their homes sleeping or reading. She noticed Carl and Michonne outside of Rick's house, having a heart to heart. She ignored them, and opened her unlocked front door. She kicked off her shoes by the door and hurried to the couch. The duffel bag begged to be opened as she placed it on the coffee table, ripping open the zippers. Clothes, band aids, gauze, and a few cans of food spilled from the bag. Ana smiled, reaching for the clothes and neatly folding them. She placed them on the couch beside herself, reaching further into the pack. Her hands ran across a few pocket knives, a handgun, as well as a wallet. Her hand froze on the wallet. Carefully, she picked it from the bag and opened it, inhaling the scent. Tears came to her eyes as she stared at the picture that gently floated from the wallet onto the floor. She reached for it, bringing it to her eyes as she examined the picture of her, her husband, and her two-year old daughter. They were standing on a baseball field, Lucille was wearing a pitcher's helmet and holding a bat they borrowed from Lucille's school. She traced her child's face with her fingers. Her heart felt heavy, yearning to hold her daughter in her arms again. Yearning to hear her cry or yell or laugh again. Ana didn't finish unpacking all of the clothes and items in the pack before she rolled onto the couch, her face buried into the cushions as she silently sobbed.

"Lucille," she moaned quietly.

i guess this could be considered an AU since Negan's wife isn't Lucille...not sure. anyway i already wrote up to chapter 8 and ill be releasing them every so often because by the time i upload the chapter when get to Negan, i wont be able to update until the next season starts...or maybe i'll trail into my own story void of the tv show's plot line. welcome new followers and i hope you all enjoy the chapter!

reviews and critiques always welcomed; the fuel me to write more