53: An Apology.

I think I was in a white room. Or was it grey? I looked down. The floor was pristine white, and it contrasted my skin and the red dress. My red dress. My superhero outfit. It looked brand new now, just like my skin. No bruises or scars or wounds. The bite on my arm was even gone. I could hear the soft tones of a piano nearby. Was it even a room? It felt too open to be a room, but I felt as thought I was wrapped in a warm blanket. A chilly hand grabbed mine, "So, Annie," I was twirled around on the white dance floor, then pulled back in, "How is life going?"

I looked into that empty face. The black-suited man was back. Was he a man? He dressed like one. He sounded like one. His hair was perfectly coiffed like a true gentleman even. But there was something off about him, and not just his lack of a face. He was there, I could feel his cold hands, but there was a vapor-like quality about him. He wasn't so solid as me, but at the same time he felt sturdy. "Things are alright I guess," I sighed as we began to move to the tones.

He led me around the floor, and wherever we went the fog that surrounded us dissipated to let us through, "Don't sugarcoat it on my account, darling. I've heard everything." His voice sounded like that of an old British friend. It was completely pleasant, but I still felt a level of subservience.

My gaze followed the grey that surrounded us, "I guess I'm just a little annoyed." My words were nowhere near as eloquent as his had sounded.

He paused his movement for a second and pointed his vacant face down at me, only it didn't feel vacant. There were no characteristics, nothing at all, but as he looked down I could sense the slightest air of apprehension, "With me?"

"No, no," we resumed, back to our slow dance, "With people."

"But I thought you loved people," I was dipped. It felt strange being held up by someone who I wasn't completely sure had a corporeal form, but there was no give. His hands were solid, "My little medic."

I backtracked, "I do love people, don't get me wrong, it's just a lot of work." My stomach made a sharp turn to emphasize my point, "Hiding it."

"Have you considered telling anyone about it?" The way he said it you'd have thought that it was the simplest thing to do. Tell someone my secret. Tell someone about my strong desire to feast on flesh. It wasn't that easy.

I suddenly became aware of his cold hands. Each was in their proper places, a respectable height on my waist and the other holding my hand. They were a cold winter's morning, but there was true sweetness in it, true beauty, "I can't."

"Why not?" his voice had a hum to it.

"They'll think I'm a monster."

"Are you not?" he laughed, "Don't look at me like that, Ms. Lee. I'm a monster too, after all. And what was it that friend of yours said? Something about how we are all monsters? There has to be another reason, dear."

I spoke softly then, letting my true fear be known, "They'll kick me out."

He pulled me back for a second so he could stare down at me, "It's been weeks, do you really think they'll toss you out with the trash?" he spun me away and left me out there for a moment. A flicker of the fog passed between us.

I looked directly into the abyss; "I wouldn't put it past them."

"Fair enough," his hand brought me back to him. He continued on in the most polite tone I'd ever heard, "Just something to consider. Might even help you sleep."

I gritted my teeth slightly, "I'm sleeping just fine, thanks."

"Really?" He pulled me closer, "Dancing with Death sounds like a good night's sleep to you?"

I shrugged, "At least I can talk to you," I smiled up into the void, "It isn't that bad."

"Well, I am more than a competent dance partner, if I do say myself," he jested. Although still featureless, his face suddenly gave me the impression of concern, "Oh, dear, don't you understand what this all means?"

"No," I copied the worried tone, "What does it mean?"

"It means, quiet simply, that you've been looking for a reason to pull the trigger." He laughed, "You've been dancing with Death. It is a rather crass metaphor, isn't it? Dancing with me isn't such a bad thing, is it?"

"I haven't danced like this in… I don't think I ever have actually. It's nice," I rested my head on the luxurious black fabric. There was more than truth in his words, not his joke but his explanation as to what we were really doing on this dance floor, there was understanding in it all. My voice came out in a whisper, "I can't do that to them. I can't abandon them." He tilted my face up so he could see me, "You know that."

"I do," we resumed our gentle sways, "But you've been thinking about it."

"They are just thoughts."

"Let's keep it that way." The sweetness was back, "Even I don't think you should, you know."

I laughed, "Really?" It was so bizarre to have death stand there and tell me he didn't want me to take the easy way out.

"In all honesty, that's how I prefer these things to work," he dipped me lower this time, his face to my ear, "I come for you, not the other way around."

When I was upright once more I asked him the only question I could think of, "So I should just, just keep going?"

"Of course." We sashayed a bit quicker now, "And hopefully you wont need me anymore."

Did I need him? Did I need that safety net? Did I need the back-up plan? "It's nice to need something."

"You need plenty of things, Annie. Food, oxygen, water, sleep, the protection of your little group." I felt a slight pinch from the hand on my waist, "Don't want to be getting too dependent now, do we? It would just be so out of character for you."

"It would help, though." I tried to explain my reasoning, I tried to explain why it was nice to see past the general requirements to something else, "Soft place to land."

His voice remained light, "You do have a bed, don't you?"

I rolled my eyes, "Oh, stop it. You know what I mean."

He let out an exaggerated sigh, "You're talking about that redneck of yours, aren't you?"

"No," I lied, "And he's not mine. Never was."

"Don't be that way, and don't think you can lie to me," he pulled me closer once more, letting my head rest on his chest, "If you really wanted him you'd stop being so stubborn and say you're sorry."

Me? What did I have to be sorry for? Sorry for surviving? Sorry for finding them? Sorry for not becoming one of those things when I was bitten? Sorry for breathing? I didn't hide the outrage in my voice, and it echoed throughout the fog, "Me? Why should I apologize for being alive?"

"That's what you think that's about? You making it out of there alive?" I could see him shake his head, "Tsk, tsk. I thought you were smart sweetie."

I brushed the soft fabric with my hand, "If that's not it, then what's really the problem?"

"I could tell you," he pulled me back to see his face for a moment. Then he brought me back in with another sway, "But where's the fun in that?"

"Fine." I'd have to try to find out when I got the chance. But how? I rubbed my thumb over the icy hand, "Any advice on what to do, then?"

The music stopped, the fog became thick as he disappeared leaving nothing but his voice, "Live."

-o0o-

When my eyes opened I just stared at the top bunk for a while thinking of anything. Wondering who had this cell before me. Wondering if Riley was doing alright. Wondering if Amanda was out there somewhere, surviving. Wondering why prisons always chose grey. Wondering what Tyler Durden would do if he was me. He would burn the place down. He would burn it down and go to Woodbury and burn that down until nothing was left. I wondered if I'd still be in that house if Daryl had never showed up. I wondered if I'd just be, wait. What would I be doing now? I'd be on the roof, scanning the forest and reading one of those damn textbooks. I'd reread about how to perform a double bypass, or remove an appendix, or some other thing. I'd be listening to something good, not knowing that there was anyone alive out there. It would just be my island and me and I would be fine. Would I be fine? Would I feel alone? Would Joey visit me in my dreams, would he have forgiven me? Would I have gone insane from the lack of human contact? Or would I have found peace? I looked up at the top bunk and I didn't want to move. I didn't want to have to deal with anything today. I wanted to pull the covers over my head and pretend that it had all just been a bad dream, but when the dead walk the lands that isn't really a luxury anyone can afford. No days off during the apocalypse, which seemed more than ironic. I sighed deeply as I sat up and pulled myself out of bed. I did two long sun salutations in an attempt to calm myself, calm my hunger, kill time, get the day started the right way. Once I was properly stretched I slid on my boots and combed through my hair. Maybe I'll take a shower when we get back. That might be nice. For a long moment as I fought the tangles I missed life before all this. I missed lazing around. I missed cereal with milk, toast with butter, basically all dairy. I missed turning on the TV and watching whatever shows were on. I missed picking up my phone, texting Amanda to come over, and bullshitting with her about life. I missed rush hour traffic. I missed having to pinch pennies. I missed having to go to work or school or whatever other thing I was obligated with. I missed complaining about whatever bitch I'd come into contact with that day. I missed it all. Good, bad, it didn't matter. All of that was wonderful when compared to this.

I redressed the bandage on my hand and slid a glove over it to keep it clean out there. Who knows what I'd be getting into today, bears, people, dead people? I stood up and grabbed my bow and slid it so it was slung over my shoulder, the put on a pair of hunting knives. Time to just do this. Just get this done. Quick like a Band Aid, and a hundred times as painful. I debated wrapping Riley's scarf around my neck, but I figured it would be best to keep it here. It was dirty enough, and the more I wore it the less it smelled like her. I'd have to save it for when I really needed her from now. My dress was nowhere near as clean as it was in my dream. My dream. I shook the ideas out of my head and made my way down to get a quick bite to eat.

I didn't get far though.

"You ready?" Daryl was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me. He didn't even look at me when he spoke.

I let out a small sigh; this is going to be a long day. I walked past him, "I just need to eat something first." To my dismay he followed me to the room we'd been keeping the food in. He stood there as I poured a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, and he sat across from me when I took a seat at the table to eat them. Of all the days to be my shadow, today? Really? Could I not get a minute to myself? I shoveled to food into my mouth as quickly as I could. The faster we got out there the faster we would be back. The faster we got back the sooner I could take a shower and just have some time alone.

I was halfway through when he spoke, "I thought you—"

I looked over at him, my eyes narrowed, "What?"

"Don't you like that cereal?" Standoffish already, and it was just a question about cereal. Today was going to be hell.

"What?" I looked down for a second. The cereal. The food. I had forgotten. I had forgotten to hide it. I had forgotten to mask my utter disgust. Time to cover up my tracks, "Oh, yeah. I just miss milk." He seemed satisfied with my answer because he didn't bother me for the rest of my meal. Good. Stay quiet. See how much I care. I'm only letting him go along with me so I don't rock the boat. I'm only going hunting in the first place because Rick asked me to. Me. Annie. Not him. Not the actual hunter. I went back to my meal, making sure to keep myself composed. Once it was all safely into my stomach I had a few swigs of water and put my bowl away. "Alright, let's go."

He didn't say a word while we made our way out of the fence and into the surrounding forest. Maybe this would be okay. Maybe this will be like it was before. No stress, just the hunt. I liked the quiet; I could almost forget he was there with me. It could have been Michonne or Carl or anyone there. As a range of scents came to my attention I calmed myself again. Okay, Annie, you have to hide the whole smelling thing. No more slip ups like with the cereal. Just keep your eyes on the ground, and act like you see something. Act like you're tracking something, and maybe he wont notice. Of course he won't notice; the guy doesn't notice anything I do. I took down a few dead-heads with one of my hunting knives as we walked, trying to keep the path clear and curb my annoyance. He didn't ever attempt to go after any of them, he just looked at the ground, searching for anything to go after. After the fifth walker fell I caught a stronger scent. Maybe a turkey? Maybe a small deer? Maybe a big deer that was a bit farther away. I was about to pick up my pace when he spoke.

"I think I got something," he pointed to the ground and started off in the direction of the tracks. Probably just a coyote by the smell of it, and the paw prints weren't very large.

I pointed in the direction of the smell, "No, this way."

He stepped over and looked at the ground, "The fuck are you looking at? The only tracks are right there."

Crap. How do I explain this? Come on, Annie. Think of a convincing lie. You can totally lie, right? I shook my head, "Those are old."

He started to follow his path, "Look fresh to me."

The group wouldn't want to eat a coyote. They didn't even smell that good to me, and I loved just about everything with a pulse. I wondered for a spilt-second if I should tell him; my dream had gotten to me. But before I could rationalize it the idea was gone. No. Of all the people he'd be the least likely to understand. I took a few steps in my direction, "Then go ahead, but I'm going this way."

I only got a few yards before I heard him, "What's your problem?"

I stopped immediately, but it took me a moment to register what he'd said. I turned slowly and glared at him, "My problem?" Was he serious? He practically breaks my heart, or he would have if I had been a lesser woman, and then gets all disappointed when I'm not dead and he says I am the one with the problem? Me, quite possibly the most well adjusted person out here, which wasn't saying much. Me, the biggest asset anyone could have out here. Me, the girl who had once even told him she loved him. I tilted my head, "My problem?"

"Yeah, your problem." What right did he have to stand so aggressively? Who the hell did he think he was? "You've been a total bitch ever since you got here."

Did we really have to do this now? Couldn't we just keep ignoring it like we'd been doing for weeks? Fine. If we're going to do this, then we're going to do this. I rolled my eyes as blatantly as I could, "Yeah, only because you don't want me here." When his face showed confusion it just made me angrier. Do I really need to explain this? I shook my head slightly, no longer even attempting to hide my annoyance, "The day I got here, after all I'd been through to get to you guys, after all of the towns I cleared just trying to find any sign of you, and Carl was the only one who wanted me to stay. Not only that, but you pointed your fucking crossbow at me. Or did you forget that? Probably did since you sure seemed to forget everything that has to do with me even slightly."

There. I could see it. I hit a nerve. He huffed and turned back to his tracks, "Aren't we supposed to be hunting?"

I wanted to say something childish; he's the one that started it. I wanted to just leave him out there like he did me. But I didn't. I did the next best thing. "Fine, you want to hunt?" I turned and took off in the direction of the smell at a run, only stopping to take care of the occasional zombie and even then I was still at a run. I didn't need to look to see if he was still behind me, I could smell him. I could smell it all and I was so damn hungry, but I couldn't eat. When the smell of the animal got more intense I sheathed my knife mid-stride before sliding the bow over my head and readying it. I just had to get this done. I just had to prove my point, prove that I didn't need him. Prove that I was better than him. Prove that our time apart had only improved me. The very second the buck was in view I pulled back on the shooting string and released. Plop. The animal fell. Another shot right in the eye. Another perfect shot. Another reason why I was valuable. Another reason the group would have to keep me around. Another reason why I should be second in command. More proof that I was superior. When the body fell I didn't look back to Daryl, I just slid the bow back to its resting place across my chest and said, "There." He didn't say anything. Good. It was about time he kept his mouth shut. I walked over to the beast, breathing heavily, and retrieved my arrow. When I'd wiped it off on some nearby leaves I slid it back in the quiver. Then I reached down to the body, not even looking at him when I spoke, "If you aren't going to help then why did you even come?"

"Move," he stepped up to the deer and I moved to the side. He picked up the carcass and we made our way back to the prison in silence. I didn't even think; I didn't have to. I'd just kill any zombies that strolled to near, and he lugged the body close behind. I never looked back at him. I didn't need to see his face to know that I'd gotten to him.

When the gate came into view I decided maybe Death had been right. It might have been a dream, but he did have a point. I did owe him an apology, "Sorry I didn't die."

He didn't respond, and I couldn't care less. When we arrived Axel helped carry the buck to the table and I took my leave. After that run, after that day I needed a long shower. When I got inside I greeted Carl and Michonne and made a pit stop at my cell. I grabbed my comfortable clothes and made my way to the showers, ready to cool down.

Woo Hoo! How about dem apples? First, thank you for reading. :) I can't stress that enough. I hope you like this one (I know I do), but I'd love to hear your thoughts. Seriously, any old thought you have I'd be more than happy to hear. HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!