7.

It seemed like hours slipped past Ana as she was enveloped in a dream about Lucille. Her child's arms were playfully pushing on her mother's lower back, leading her towards the ducks that swam freely in a pond.

"Mommy look at the duck!" Lucille yelled. Once Ana's feet were touching the banks of the water, she kindly asked for Lucille to stop pushing. She obliged and stood next to Ana, a huge smile plastered ear to ear. The duck was swimming gently through the water, only stopping once to inspect Ana and Lucille. The little girl started to place her bare feet in the water, gently wading towards the creature.

"Be careful!" Ana called. Lucille didn't respond and continued creeping along towards the duck. Of course the duck swam away, and in anger Lucille ran from the water towards her mom, throwing her arms around her and screaming about how unwanted she was.

Ana was pulled from the memory all too soon as she opened her eyes to an annoyed looking Daryl.

"We're back," he said, reaching down an arm to help her up. Ana grabbed it, slightly surprised that Rick was no longer next to her. The small disappointment didn't last long; Ana was back in Alexandria and safe again. She left the RV with Daryl hopping out beside her, pulling down the shorts that rode up between her legs. Daryl watched with a funny expression as Ana's cheeks became red. She looked at the ground, crossing her arms in mild embarrassment. It seemed as if members of Alexandria had come from their homes to welcome them back. However, they crowded towards the driver's side of the window and paid no attention to Ana or Daryl. They followed the small crowd, listening as Rick spoke from the driver's seat.

"I need everybody in the church in an hour," Rick stated.

"What is it?" Sasha asked.

"We'll talk about it." Rick put the camper in ignition, but before he could drive away, he was interrupted by Carol. Ana watched the interaction but decided to walk away before seeing it through. She happily glided from the RV to her house, throwing open the door and kicking off her shoes. She had one hour to get a shower and clean her sweaty body before going to the church, and she decided to use her time wisely.

After showering for ten minutes, Ana dressed in a small sun dress that had lace sides. Small blue flowers lined the lace as well as the hem. Underneath she wore a tank top so that the lace sides only showed black fabric instead of her skin. She brushed her hair, her teeth and then walked downstairs. Her eyes saw the duffel bag as soon as her foot hit the hardwood floor, beckoning her to come and cry at pictures of her lost family. Instead of walking towards it, she headed for the kitchen to grab a few crackers. She popped them into her mouth and reached for the book lying on the counter next to the sink. Ana flipped to her current page and took the seat at the kitchen table that face away from the duffel bag. Mere moments later, Rick knocked on her door.

Something flickered inside of her when she made out his face through the frosted door window. Was it excitement?

She easily opened the door, saying a quick hello as she allowed him to walk inside. His shirt and face were both sweaty. He joined her inside, his eyes instantly meeting the mess on the coffee table, and then on a gun left carelessly on a kitchen counter.

"Need to take inventory of what you got," was all he said as he walked to the coffee table with a small notepad in his hand. "Five cans of food, couple packs of band aids and gauze, some clothes," Ana listed off the top of her head. Rick insisted on looking for himself and started digging through the bag as Ana watched. He pulled out a long flannel t-shirt, a pair of shorts and a bra. He didn't stop to look at it and placed it on the coffee in a neat pile with the other clothes.

"What were you before all this?" he asked as he got to the pile of picture frames, looking at each one. Ana watched, trying not to cry as pictures of her daughter were placed in front of her.

"I was a freelance photographer," Ana said, hoping her voice wouldn't crack.

"And your family?"

"My husband was a coach at the school. Lucille was…they were all killed during a fire." There it was, the crack in her voice.

Rick turned to her, noticing her eyes starting to turn red. He walked towards her, his brow furrowed. Ana tried to turn her head away. Rick's calloused hand reached up and touched her cheek. His hand was warm against her skin. She leaned into it, oddly comfortable with his gesture.

"You told me you didn't have a kid," Rick said. Ana didn't reply, realizing that she wasn't in the mood to discuss why she lied. Rick noticed this and ignored the white lie.

"A house fire?" Rick asked, using a finger to brush at Ana's tears. She was staring at the ground, trying to ignore the knot rising in her throat. "Negan was upstairs…Lucille was in the kitchen when…" her voice was choked, she had trouble speaking any more words. With her head facing down she couldn't tell how Rick's face had gone from caring, to horrified. He stepped away from her. The lack of warmth was instantly retracted, Ana felt herself wanting it back.

"What?" she asked, using her hand to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"Church in fifteen minutes," Rick reminded Ana, and showed himself the way out the door without another word. Ana quietly cried but after a minute, decided she was tired of crying and wiped away the hot tears that stung her cheeks. She felt embarrassed for crying in front of Rick, even more so since he touched her and then flew the scene. She sat on her couch, elbows resting on her knees and head resting in her palms. She stayed in that position for longer than she anticipated, just thinking. Thinking about Lucille's burnt body, imagining her husband waking up in flames. It was almost her fault, allowing Lucille to run towards the light switch. Almost her fault.

At one point, her eyes fell on a gun sitting on the island in the kitchen, the one Rick was eyeing earlier. For some reason, she always forgot to bring it with her. It was a heavy black pistol that fit her palm. Rick gave it to her a week ago, after she proved that she wasn't going to kill anyone. Ana stood up and walked towards it. Her eyelids were once again heavy, her mouth slightly parted because her nose was stuffy. Her brain was a lead ball, filled with the memory of her child and her husband, their deaths.

Her hands felt shaky, but remained steady as she picked up the gun and headed for the front door.

Ana stood just outside Alexandria, with her feet plastered on the road. Her eyes were slow as she glanced from side to side. There was a walker still impaled on the stake, but she figured there was no use shooting it. Instead, she moved off to the right. She wouldn't go too far, only far enough to take out her frustrations on something. She made sure to keep the wall to her back, the sun over her shoulder as she walked away from the compound.

There was a small creek half a mile from the camp. It was a few feet wide and the banks were surrounded by a series of rocks. Ana stopped here, making sure there were no walkers around. She spotted a couple through the trees across the creek and figured she would take care of them if they got too close. For now, she sat down on a sturdy rock and threw her legs off of it, letting them rest an inch above the stream. She looked into the clear water, seeing small minnows and water spiders scrambling about, amazed at how they were still alive. Her eyes fell on the gun once again. It was in her hand, loosely hanging by a few fingers. She lazily twirled it while her mind drifted.

She zoned out staring at a rock before coming to her senses. She shook her head and brought the gun to her face. It's coal exterior was lightened with a few streaks of silver on the grip. She brushed her fingers over it. With ease, she flipped off the safety and dared look down the barrel. Still looking, Ana used one of her hands to pull back the hammer. A fresh bullet was in her sight, waiting for her to pull the trigger.

A slight sigh and Ana lowered the gun, closing her eyes and rubbing her head with a free hand. She was confused in the least, stuck in the middle of not wanting to live, but not wanting to die either. She raised the gun to her temple, pushing against it with force.

It was a coping mechanism, an odd one at that. She threatened herself with the pretense of dying, only to show her how much she wanted to continue opening her eyes. Maybe her inability to pull the trigger was just a survival instinct, but it worked whenever she felt close to running out into a herd of walkers.

Rick finished his sermon in the church, annoyed by Ana's absence. His speech went well; although it warranted a small argument with Morgan, people who attended did show support. He left the church after everyone else, debating how to tell Ana her husband was alive and kicking, as well as killing. He wasn't sure he should tell her, but he figured it was best it come from him. He hoped she would have attended the meeting so that she would understand why they had to do what they had to do, but now he had to seek her out and have a discussion with her.

He checked her house first, finding her door unlocked and the gun once on her kitchen counter gone. Slight worry coursed through his veins when he realized there was no scheduled run for today, and Ana never brought her gun on any trip. So, he left the house and bounded for the gate. The watchman looked dumbfounded when Rick asked if he opened it for anyone lately.

"Did anyone leave through here?" he asked harshly.

The watchman stared for a moment, trying to remember. "Um," he paused. "Yes."

"Who?" Rick said.

"Some woman."

"Black hair?"

"Yes."

"Open it."

The watchman obliged, pulling aside the gate as Rick rushed out. He wasn't sure which way Ana would run, but took his chances running to the right.

The gun was pressed to her temple, but Ana's finger never came close to the trigger. People died here everyday, so if she wasn't living for herself then she shouldn't be living at all. Ana just wanted the pain to go away, but understood that dying meant no more hope, she wouldn't get to see the world taken back by humans. Dying meant that she could no longer enjoy food or books. One of the walkers from across the creek took notice of her presence, and started staggering in her direction. She didn't mind. When the walker got close enough, she would stab it.

Large hands landed on Ana's wrist, forcefully grabbing the gun from her hands and knocking her off of the rock. She stared up at Rick in surprise, wondering how he found her.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Rick asked, shoving the gun into the back of his waistband and grabbing her arm. He hauled her from the dirt, dragging her by the arm back towards Alexandria.

"You could've gotten killed out here," Rick scolded as his speed increased. Ana's legs felt like Jell-o. She wanted to tell him that she wouldn't dare shoot herself, not that close to Alexandria. She merely stared at the ground in embarrassment and tried to keep up.

Rick said no more words until they were at Ana's house and the door was locked behind him. He led her to the couch, his hand still clasped on her arm, and sat her down. He continued standing, pacing with his hand on his forehead.

"You could've drawn walkers for miles! We had enough of a problem when they knocked down our walls!" he yelled quietly. He didn't want the neighbors to hear. Ana looked down at her hands and he immediately regretted his words. They came across as calling Ana stupid for how she was about to off herself.

"I'm sorry," he immediately said, sitting next to Ana. She refused to look up at him. "Hey," Rick said, pivoting his head so that she was forced to look at him. "I'm sorry."

Ana's words were very quiet when she spoke. "I wasn't going to."

Rick leaned back against the couch, his eyes watching as Ana brought her hair to one side of her neck. She twirled it in her hand, her eyes facing down the entire time.

"When I was younger, I jumped in front of traffic, got hit," she said, "I woke up in the hospital and was happy to be alive. I didn't know how much I wanted to live. But now-" her voice got caught in the back of her throat. "Now whenever I feel that way I threaten myself with death. I don't think I want to die, I just feel like I need to. I feel like shit, my family is gone-" She was trailing, talking too much about herself. So, she stopped talking.

Rick parted his lips, ready to tell her about Negan when her head turned towards him. Her eyes looked down at his hands, following his arms slowly until they reached his lips. She wanted comfort, Rick realized. He wasn't sure how to react. Pushing her away and telling her that she needed to think this through could leave her feeling unwanted, but advancing could prove that he was incapable of stopping himself. His thoughts trailed as he stared at her features, remembering seeing Lori for the first time, Jessie for the first time, Michonne for the first time. He remembered how he felt something immediately. He clicked with them, instantly able to start a conversation and figure them out after a few weeks.

Ana was different. She stayed silent, never accepting a penny for her thoughts until someone sat down and truly listened to her. She preferred to be quiet and unnoticed because the attention scared her. Her ability to withstand silence was amazing, especially since her mind was all over the place. Rick knew little to nothing about her, but was intrigued to know as much as possible about this woman. He didn't feel a click with her at first. He didn't feel anything but anger when his eyes first landed upon her soft face. Now, he wanted to make sure she was safe on her own, make sure that she would stay alive through this hell. He still felt anger now, but for a different reason.

She looked serene, her eyes slightly damp, her lips parted, her neck exposed. The same compulsion that drew him to kiss Jessie's cheek the day after meeting her drew him towards Ana. He placed a finger under her chin, lifting it so that his eyes could look into hers. A small smile flashed across his face as he leaned in, connecting his lips to hers.

Ana needed this. She needed the comfort, the warmth his body offered. She moved her lips against his, tasting the sweat on them, and feeling the hunger in him. For a moment, she figured he needed this too.

Rick took control, pushing Ana onto her back, his hands trapping her underneath him. She moved her legs between his as his lips trailed from her lips to her cheek and her neck. She softly moaned, reaching her hands around his neck to pull him in closer.

A grin stretched across Rick's lips as she did so. He felt her hands reach for the buckle on his pants before he stopped.

"Negan's alive." The words were murmured into her neck unintentionally, but she still heard them.

A/N: For those of you who are curious, Negan will be making his appearance in chapter 11...which should be coming out in the upcoming days. I'm really excited to finally get to the end of season 6 in terms of this story, and thus I'll upload the chapters more often (if I have the time.)

Welcome new followers I hope you enjoy my story. Don't forget to review- I like replying to you guys.

Replies:

Karen Wood: aaa I'm really excited for everyone to see Negan as well, hence the reason I'm updating much faster than I have been

I'm a Nerd and Proud: I'm hoping that some of Rick's craziness rubs off on Ana, since I think that would make for some reallllly interesting character development. But don't worry, Negan will be making his appearance soon!