A/N: Hello all!

Sorry for the long,awful wait. Life has been crazy as of late. College keeps me busy, and work does, too. Best part? The day before New Years, I was in a car accident. I'm totally fine, but my poor car was totaled so I have a new (older,) one. If anyone wants to donate a couple bucks so I can get a better one I would not oppose. (Just kidding!)

So yeah, that's how my life has been. But thankfully I got a chapter out for both this AND my Fear the Walking Dead story. Woop woop! Progress! Hope you all enjoy the beginning of season six! :)

As if the night could get any crazier, a quiet voice calls through the crowd. "Rick?"

No. Way.

Morgan stands in between Aaron and Daryl, clad in a large cream colored jacket and sporting a wooden staff. You stabbed me that one time! You were out of control! Now, he seems completely calm, albeit confused with the currently messy status of our friendly neighborhood constable Rick Grimes.

"... Morgan?" Rick chirps out, his face contorting in confusion.

The man in question waits a beat before answering. "In the flesh." He gazes around the state of the group; of the crying Deanna and the terrified men and women crowding around their lawn chairs. "It seems we have... Much to talk about."

Rick does his signature head-tilt, an unamused smirk playing on his lips. "Yes, yes we do."

And just like that, the meeting's over. The Alexandrian crowd quietly disperses, leaving the grieving Deanna on the ground. They give sad frowns and say their goodbyes as they pass. I don't think Deanna hears them. She brings a shaking hand to Reg's face, bloodied and wet. Whispers and sobs of, "my love," rack through her as she plants a kiss to his forehead. My heart aches for her.

Morgan takes a few tentative steps into the fire light as Spencer runs back to the scene, and it's painful to watch as the emotions cross his face once he realizes his father is dead. It's even more painful as he drops to his knees, completely silent, eyes filled with tears.

"Go, kids." Mom shoves me and Carl away from the scene. "You don't need to see this."

And I agree. It's a private moment for the family. The second loss in two days. I understand the pain.

So quietly, Carl and I head back in the direction of our houses, to the front gates and the small pavilion by the water. He hasn't said a word since before we got to the meeting. That's probably not good.

"You okay?" I ask tentatively, my hand still holding onto his.

He shrugs. "I... I guess."

I stop my movements and stand, letting go of his hand as I stare up at him. "Then you're better off than me. I'm pissed. That whole time, them talking about Rick like he's some monster that needs to be taken care of, father Gabriel's little confession about our team..." I spit out his name like venom. What an asshole. "I couldn't believe them."

"I think I'm in more shock than anything." He confesses. And our feet begin a slow trek down the street. "I'm still latching onto the idea that these guys haven't seen life outside the gates. What my dad does is basic survival. They treat it like he's torturing innocent people."

I nod at the words, completely understanding. "Well, I think we get to stay now." One damn positive from this night.

"Yeah..." He trails off. His eyes head to the dark platform toward the front of the walls, just left of the gates' opening. "Who's that?"

Two looking figures accompany the top of the platform. One has their arms wrapped around a knee with the other leg dangling from the edge. The second leans backs on the platform, their elbows bent as they stare up at the sky. Both are quiet as they rest.

"Enid? Sam?" I question, and as we walk closer to them my suspicions are correct. They must've left the meeting before anyone else to be situated on the other side of town so quickly. I hiss out to them a quiet, "Hey!" before we trek all the way over.

"Howdy." Sam responds softly. His hand pats the spot to his left, offering me and Carl a spot on the grey square. The both of us hop up, thankful for the invitation.

It's silent as the four of us sit, just staring up at the stars. I try to pick out constellations I know of, though truth be told I only know Big Dipper and Little Dipper. But I'm okay with just resting beside the three others. The silence is a comfort after all we've seen tonight.

Though it seems Sam has other thoughts. He's the one to speak first, his voice quiet as he asks, "So, what happens next?"

"I don't know." Carl responds truthfully. "Alexandria's going through changes now. They have a taste of what it's like living on the outside. Hopefully it's enough to shock them."

"And if it's not?"

"If it's not, we still have each other." I pip up. "We know. That'll have to be enough."

"It might not be." Enid mutters out. I look over to her, listening but not agreeing.

"It has to be." I reason. "It will be."

I lean over the edge of the platform to look at Enid and Sam beside me, then to Carl on my other side. "Promise me." I start earnestly. "Promise me that we'll all make it through whatever happens next. The four of us. We need to."

"We might not-" Sam starts, but I interrupt him.

"I'm not listening to this bullshit negativity. We need to survive, no matter what. I'm not losing anyone else."

"We won't." Carl nods earnestly. His hand grips at my own tightly, proving to me that he believes, too.

I jerk my head over to look at Sam and Enid. While they don't believe as strongly as I do, they give soft nods in my direction. And that's enough for me. Good.

And I turn my eyes back up to the stars. With a deep, slow breath through my nostrils, I let my mind rest.

This is all we need tonight. Reassurance. Air. Friends. Nothing more.

TWO DAYS LATER

A meeting has been called again, bringing us inside the Monroe house. Specifically, the library area where Deanna holds her interviews. I wonder how many meetings Alexandria has. Do they hold these frequently, or are two meetings two days apart an anomaly?

These mundane thoughts wander my mind as I rest silently against a wall, the tension in the air between Alexandrians and my group almost tangible in the air. They stare at us quietly, judging us. They have been since Rick and Pete's fight. Now, with Pete's death- his very public insanity episode and execution via Rick- we haven't exactly been loved by all.

I tap the end of my gun in its holster by my waist, generating a soft PAT PAT beat in the silence of the room. Thankfully, Deanna has agreed to let everyone be armed inside the walls. Of course, Team Family immediately grabbed our shit from the armory and suited up. My knife is proudly sheathed on my other hip. I feel so much safer with them. Some Alexandrians have taken up a knife or two as well. I know that not many wanted guns, seeing as they aren't trained in the use of it. Because of their lack of knowledge on anything murder-y, Rosita decided to start a class on weaponry at daybreak each morning. Yesterday, three people showed up. Today, it's gone up to four.

Some want to learn. I'm surprised. It's a step in the right direction for the community. Sadly, that doesn't mean that they all trust us yet. Yet.

My eyes find mom's across the room. "Where's Rick?" I mouth out to her. It was him and Morgan who called for this emergency meeting. Her quick response is, "I don't know."

Ah, dammit. Carl doesn't know, either. Of course they don't; he's been MIA since leaving Alexandria to drop Pete's body off somewhere. Everyone in the room seems to be getting restless, my team included. Maggie and Glenn sit on the couch, directly in the middle of the room. They whisper to each other, quiet, but the look in Glenn's face shows me that whatever they're talking about, he's not enjoying.

Maybe they're talking about the, "walker fight," he and Nicholas had outside the gates.

The night of Reg's death, Glenn and Nicholas were apparently a couple miles outside the community, fighting off a small herd of walkers. Glenn got nicked by a ricochet bullet in his shoulder.

At least, that's what he's telling us. I don't believe it so much. Nicholas was the reason Noah died, and Glenn hadn't hesitated to say that to Deanna and us. Maybe Nicholas just wanted to keep him quiet.

But for some godforsaken reason, Glenn didn't kill the bastard. I don't know why. Glenn's just more humane than me. I wouldn't have hesitated to stab the guy and be done with it.

Maggie's eyes reach mine, and she gives me a soft smile. It's a contrast to the worry in her face just a moment ago. I respond and wave to her in silent greeting.

The door finally opens, and Rick saunters through, Morgan in tow. Took your sweet time, sheriff.

"There's a herd. Maybe three hundred of them. They're close to the town."

Oh, shit.

"My team," Heath starts. He's from Alexandria, too. Turns out he and a couple more people have been on a run for the past month. He seems decent enough; I don't hate him yet. "We saw it early on. Back when we were on one of them first scouts, finding out what was around here. There was a camp at the bottom. The people, they must have blocked the exits with one a those trucks, back when everything started to go bad. They didn't make it; they were all roamers, maybe a dozen of them."

"No one's been back since?" Maggie asks softly.

Heath shakes his head. "DC. Every town worth scavenging are all in the other direction. And I never really felt like having a picnic next to the camp that ate itself."

"So all the while the walkers have been drawn by the sound, making more sound and drawing more in." Mom hypothesizes.

Rick nods in agreement. "And here we are." He looks around the group as a whole, the worry in our faces growing. "Now what I'm proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slippin' through the exits. One of the trucks keepin' the walkers in could go off the edge any day now. Maybe after one more hard rain. Then that exit sends them east. All of them, right at us."

Quiet murmurs break out around the room, Alexandrians and Team Family members alike. He's right; his plan is risky, but it might be the only way. Some of them turn to Deanna, who stares out the large wall to ceiling windows, contemplating.

Rick speaks up again, trying to convince all of us to go along. "This isn't about if it gives, it's when. It's gonna happen, that's why we have to do this soon."

"Oh, god, this is-I don't even have another word for it, this is terrifying." Carol speaks up, her arms delicately folded around her form. Her eyes give off an air of fright, so I know she speaks truthfully. She still wears a horrible flower sweater and collared shirt combo; she still is playing the part of weak housewife. She glances around the room and adds, "All of it. But it doesn't sound like there's any other way."

An Alexandrian in plaid looks to her, thinking quickly as he says, "Maybe there is."

He's most definitely against Rick's plan. At every explanation Rick tried to give, he added a complaint of how we would move the walkers from point A to point B. My brain tries to think of his name. Cartman? Cardin? Carter? One of those, anyways.

"Couldn't we just build up the weak spots?" Plaid-C-Name Guy offers. "I could draw up plans. I worked on the wall with Reg. Construction crew. We could try and make it safe! We could-"

"Even if we could," Rick interrupts, "The sound is what's drawing more and more walkers every day. Building up the exits won't change that."

Very true, I agree. I side-eye at Carl, gauging his reaction on the prospect of over three hundred walkers being only a few miles away. He's about as happy as I am.

"We do what Rick says." Deanna finally speaks from the window. I think it's the first time she's talked all day. "The plan he's laid out."

Rick looks to the back of her head, waiting for her to turn around and face the group. She doesn't. He turns back to the group, shrugging before talking again. "I told you all. We're gonna have Daryl leading them away."

"Me too." Sasha pips up from the couch, beside Maggie. She's gotten better since losing Tyreese. "I'll take a car, ride next to him. It can't just be him. I'll keep 'em coming, Daryl keeps 'em from getting sloppy."

"I'll go with her." Abraham raises his hand from the armrest of his chair, two fingers outstretched as he volunteers. "It's a long way to white-knuckle it solo."

Rick nods to the pair. "We'll have two teams. One on each side of the forest to help manage this thing." As the room as a whole nods to him, he adds, "We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer, and Holly. So they're out. Who's in?"

Mom, with her arms crossed in from of her, raises a hand by her side. "Me."

Of course. I was expecting that. "Should we even bother volunteering?" I jerk my head over to Carl, showing that I was speaking for the both of us.

Rick softly shakes his head no at the same time Spencer vehemently raises his voice, "No way! We're not having kids on this mission. It's too risky; you guys could screw things up."

I twist my head over to look at him, my eyes squinting at his form in anger. My arms cross over my chest as I tap my foot. "You think we'd screw this up?" My words drip in sarcasm.

Rick looks to Spencer, obviously angry as well. "They'd probably be more help than you out there." Ha ha. Thank you! Spencer opens his mouth to speak, but Rick shushes him as he takes a generous step forward. "I can trust those two to deliver out there. You know how many walkers they've killed?"

He waits a beat before Spencer quickly answers. "No."

"Neither do I." Rick answer simply. "More than I can count. How many have you?"

Spencer thinks a moment, turning to look at his mother's back. He waits, hopeful that his mother would turn and help him out from the third degree he's getting from Rick. When she doesn't, he frowns in defeat. "Three."

"Three." Rick repeats as he looks down to Spencer's embarrassed form, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he cracks a smirk. "They stay home because I need people competent enough to keep this place safe." He jerks his head around to look at me and Carl. "You two think you got that?"

Carl nods silently as I answer with, "Definitely."

Mentally I stick my tongue out at Spencer. Don't fuck around with Rick's kids. Not that I'm his kid, I quickly fix my wording. But I'm dating one, and that pretty much makes me family.

"They stay. Daryl, Michonne, Sasha, Abraham." Rick lists those for the mission. "I need more. Who else?"

"I'll go." Glenn answers from the couch. I look expectantly to Maggie beside him, and I'm shocked when I don't hear her volunteer.

"I'd like to help as well." Father Gabriel offers, holding a hand up as he looks to Rick.

"No." Rick immediately responds. He doesn't even look to Gabriel before shooting him down. Serves him right. "Who else? We need more."

"There's gotta be another play." Plaid-C-Name Guy says. "We can't just control that many."

"I've said it before." Rick disagrees, and he slowly explains. "Walkers. Herd. Up. They'll follow a path if something's drawing them. That's how we can get 'em all at once."

"So what?" Plaid guy scoffs. "We're just-just supposed to take your word for it? We're all supposed to just fall in line behind you after..."

Rick cocks his head to the side, waiting for the other to finish. "After WHAT?"

Carl's back straightens up, as does mine and mom's as we wait expectantly for his answer.

Plaid guy seems to realize he's fallen into a trap as he gazes around our team. But it doesn't stop him; he goes off just as expected. "After you wave a gun around. Screaming, pointing it at people. After you shoot a man in the face. After you-"

"Enough, Carter!" Deanna barks at him, finally turning around and surveying him. He backs off, closing his mouth tightly in anger. I see the way he grinds his teeth down to stop himself from adding more to his little, "after," speech.

He stares at Rick silently, venomously, but Rick turns away from him. Good. We don't need another fistfight.

"I'll do it." Heath volunteers. I'm glad; he seems to know a lot about being outside, and using weapons. He's smart. Useful.

"Me too." A small woman with a pixie cut pips up beside him.

"Whatever you need, I'm in." Tobin nods to Rick.

"Now who else?" Deanna asks. Her tone is harsher than I expected. Not that I blame her. She's been through hell.

Nicholas, after eyeing Glenn and debating his options, raises his hand. "I'll go."

Oh, sure. That'll end well.

He looks to Glenn solely and adds, "We need to do this. I need to help." Quietly I give him a once-over. He almost seems sincere. Even with that, though, I still don't trust him.

Nor does Rick seem to. "You sure you can handle it?"

Nicholas shrugs. "You need people."

With that thought, Rick nods and allows it before addressing the whole group. "We'll make this work. We'll keep this place safe, keep our families safe. We will."

"About your plan," Carter says, "Go through it again."

"Man, he just said it." Daryl's rough voice spits out.

Carter glares at the two men. "Every detail. Every part. Again. The exact plan."

Looks like we're gonna be here a while.

FOUR DAYS LATER

"Heading out?"

My voice is quiet and groggy. It's barely six in the morning. The sun shines through the windows of the kitchen while Carl and I quietly munch on some oatmeal. It's gross, but it's food.

"Yeah." Mom answers softly by the front door. Rick is just behind her as she glides into the kitchen. "We figured out a route for the herd. Rick and I and a couple others are gonna start setting up the trucks and sheet metal." She makes her way between me and Carl, a hand on our shoulders. Just the small touch is comforting from her.

"But it's so early." Carl says. "Can't you guys wait a little while longer?"

"I wish." Rick replies. "Carter wants the plan in tip-top shape. Whether he likes it or not, it's happening. And he's not gonna let his friends die because he's petty."

I nod at the response, and mom adds, "The others will be joining us in a few, too." She gently brings both arms around me, holding me as she plants a sweet kiss on the top of my head. "But we need to start packing up the sheet metal and grab a couple balloons to set up the color stations."

"Okay." I say, my hand rubbing up and down one of her arms. "Anything on the list for us today?"

"Just make sure everyone inside is safe." Rick tells me and Carl. "There's a couple more people joining Rosita's class, so just watch out for the ones that aren't."

"Maybe check on Ron?" Mom gazes over to Carl. "See how he's doing?"

Carl gives a slow half-nod at the suggestion. "He hasn't wanted to see me. Not since..."

'Pete's death' hangs heavy in the air. Sadly, it's true. Ron hasn't wanted to hang out with either of us. I want to say it's understandable, considering his father's murderer is Carl's dad, and I'm pretty close to him, but at the same time Pete was an abusive, drunk asshole.

"I'm sure you two will find something to keep yourselves busy." Rick breaks the silence. Carl and I both nod. He looks over to mom. "Ready to go?"

She gives a soft, "yes," in response. Her hand grazes my back as she pulls away from me, and it lands on Carl's shoulder as she walks by him. She plants a quick kiss atop his head like she did with me before heading to Rick. Rick looks to both of us, his blue eyes gleaming at us as he waves goodbye.

"Stay safe out there." I tell the both of them.

"Always." Rick answers.

The two give us one last look before they head out the front door. My eyes connect with Carl's, and I can't help the sinking feeling in my stomach.

They'll be fine, I tell myself.

But I can't help it. I just don't think that it's true.

FIVE DAYS LATER

It's early again, though this time it's seven in the morning. The adults got to, "sleep in," the day before the storm.

All of us are in the kitchen; Carol had cooked a large breakfast for those going out on the mission. She gets to stay home and hold down the fort. She can't break the soft, weak character that she's created.

There's not much small talk filling the air. The sounds of spoons swirling liquid in a cup, knives clinking against plates, but not much chatter. It's tense.

Everyone's worried, I reason. It makes sense. We haven't done something this big since trying to get out of Terminus.

I still haven't shaken off the sinking feeling in my stomach. It's gotten worse since yesterday. What felt like two butterflies in my stomach has now turned into five or six.

"Today is a dry run." Rick tells the group. He grabs a backpack from the living room, a hand shuffling around through it. "Everything should be fine. But, in case it doesn't, we have an extra walkie talkie." He pulls one out of his bag; a large, black rectangle with a decently long antenna at the top. He bends down at his knees to reach our short height from the dining room chairs.

The others going on the run head out the front door quietly, Maggie included. She gets to stay behind and work with Deanna, hopefully helping the leader out of her depressive state. Carol runs off to the pantry, grabbing some more food to make another casserole for Deanna. The emptiness of the room hits me almost immediately. Something's wrong. I don't know what, but I can feel it in the air.

"The signal probably won't reach us while we're out there." Rick explains to me and Carl. "You may hear some radio chatter if we break off into our groups, but it's just a dry run so we shouldn't. And when we redirect the herd tomorrow, we're gonna be pretty far out. But for both days, going out, heading back, if anything happens we'll be sure to call on here, okay?"

"Got it." Carl says for the both of us.

"Anything happens out here, you do the same." Rick looks to the both of us, and we nod in understanding.

"Good." He leans to Carl and presses a chaste kiss on his forehead before turning and doing the same to me. "Everything should be fine, but just in case."

Just in case, I repeat. Everything will be fine.

I wonder how many times I need to say it until I truly believe it.

Then he heads to the door, leaving the walkie talkie with us. My eyes look at it in trepidation; this doesn't feel right. I don't know why I feel this way, but something is going to go wrong. I don't know what, but something.

I hope I'm wrong.

"C'mon." Carl says quietly. He grabs our plates and sets them in the sink as I stand from my chair.

The front door opens again and Carol strolls through, a filled basket of food in hand. Her eyes meet mine curiously. She could always tell when something was wrong. Thankfully she doesn't say anything. Silently, I grab the walkie talkie and Carol passes by, setting the spices and other items on the table.

Watching her work pulls me out of my negative thoughts. C'mon, Alyssa. Think positively; there is no reason I should be worried. They're my group. They're talented and strong and they have dealt with more shit than I can count on my fingers and toes combined. They're fine.

So I force myself to make small talk as Carl starts walking to the stairs of the house. "Anything on the agenda for today?"

He shrugs. "Not really. I was just gonna play with Judith. Maybe patrol around town and see how everyone's doing."

We trek up the stairs quickly and head into Rick and mom's room, where Judith's crib is set up. I find it funny how she can sleep through anything, just like Carl. She's just barely awake now, her eyes still squinting in the sunlight through the open window beside her.

"Hey, little munchkin!" I squeal excitedly and head up beside the crib, tossing the walkie talkie on mom and Rick's bed. "How's the best Grimes doing today?"

Her huge eyes watch me in wonder as I lean forward, close to her face and push back her hair in a gentle curl. I hear Carl snort beside me, and I look back to him with a smirk. "What? Something you want to say?"

"Ah, no." He shakes his head, a dazed and playful smile forming. "You're totally right; Judith is the best Grimes out there."

"Damn right." I chuckle, though I bring my head up to him and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Though you're in my top three."

"Oh, how lovely." He rolls his eyes. I laugh at the gesture.

As Judith is now fully awake, I snake my hands around her form and pull her from the crib. She babbles softly as her head lolls forward onto my chest, still groggy. Then the scent hits me.

"Oh, she lost her spot." I scrunch my nose in disgust. Oh, what did she eat last night?! "Yep, maybe not the best Grimes. Oh." I force myself to not vomit as I hand her off to Carl. "She's your sister. You take care of this."

He makes a vague sound of repulsion as I hand her off. "Eww."

"Yup." I pinch my nose to add emphasis. "Where are the diapers? I'll grab some."

"Shit, um…" He looks underneath the crib and the changing table beside it, but only finds new baby clothes and some toys. "Check their bathroom maybe?"

I hurriedly nod and take gracious steps away from Judith and her stinky diaper. Rummaging around the cabinet with a repulsed vigor, I finally find a pile and grab some wipes and baby powder with one in hand. "Bingo!" I call out. I run back to him and set the items on the changing table by Judith's feet.

"Yeah, that's great, but it's on her clothes, too." He points to a newfound brown spot by the flap near her butt. I shiver, grossed out. "We might as well give her a bath. How big's the sink in there?"

I think back to it; it's decently deep, with rounded edges in black marble. "It's good enough." Just clean her, dammit.

"Okay. I'll..." He sighs in defeat, and I hear the sound of Velcro being ripped. "I'll clean as much of the damage as I can first. Wanna get the water running?"

I nod, and after Carl cleans as much off as he can, he manages to hose her down with the shower jet and then the two of us give her a decent bath in the sink. By the time we're done, she is much cleaner. And look, I can smell without wanting to die.

"Much better." I say, and I tug on a new onesie onto her squirming form. "Judith, stop."

Once it's shimmied up her legs the process is much easier, but she still finds joy in yanking at my strands of hair close to her face. "Judith, no." YANK!

A happy babble escapes her, and I sigh in defeat. I look over to Carl as he washes his hands. "I'm gonna shave my head. All of it. Eyebrows too."

"Okay." He smiles at me. "You'll look amazingly crazy, but okay."

"What, you don't think I could rock a bald head?" I raise an eyebrow at him teasingly. Finally I finish fighting with the onesies buttons, and I give Carl a second to dry his hands as I hand over his baby sister. "Judy seems to think so. She wants me to go in that direction."

"Yes, she's very insightful in the fashion department." He swings her gently in his arms as he smiles up to her. The two lead out the door and I follow close behind. "She's starting very young, but we need new fashionistas. She starts the next generation of them."

"I'm so proud." I say dryly.

The two of us make our way down the stairs and to the kitchen, where Carol is cooking up another casserole for the Monroe's.

"Hey, you two." She greets. As she sprinkles some pepper into the mix of food she points to the closet beside the fridge. "There's a stroller in there, if you wanna take her around the town."

I look to Carl, silently questioning it by raising an eyebrow. I'm not sure I wanna leave home base just yet. If anything happens to our group on the dry run, I wanna be near the walkie talkie. Just in case.

But Carl seems up to the idea. "Yeah, that sounds good. I think Judith could use some fresh air."

"Okay." I softly respond. "I'll stay here, clean up the room upstairs, keep an eye on the walkie talkie?"

He just gives a silent nod, and goes to the closet door. The green and blue stroller is wheeled out, and I help with the buttons that lock baby Grimes in place. These goddamn buttons. I hate them, but I'm getting better with them.

"See you when you come back?" I ask him.

"Mmhmm." Carl smiles to me. His hand lightly brushes against mine as he pushes the stroller to the front door. I wave to him as he leaves the room.

Absentmindedly, I look over to Carol and the kitchen table. Goddamn, it's like she's a mad scientist.

Carol has always been a good cook. All those times I slept over Sophia's had proven that, but I almost forgot she could make a mean chicken pot pie. Casseroles, too. I mean, she, Maggie, and a couple others make the main food for our group, but it's not like when she would take her time to make sure it would be delicious. Damn near anything, she could perfect the technique. I have just never seen her in action. Measuring spoons thrown everywhere, ingredients I'm not even sure I know and understand everywhere, and just a general mess takes over everything.

"Baking for fifty?" I ask, half-jokingly and half-apprehensively.

"No." She teases, cutting up a green pepper. "It looks this big now, but trust me, half of this shrinks in the oven."

"Okay." I sing-song to her. I trust her instincts, even if I don't understand them.

"Hand me that onion, will you?" She points to half an onion on my side of the table with a knife before picking up the cutting board in front of her and sliding the pepper into the pan with the blunt edge.

Silently I hand it to her, and she points to another ingredient. "Basil, too."

I grab the shaker of dried basil leaves to her. She mutters a thanks before she haphazardly yanks the top off and shakes a whole bunch of leaves into the mix. I chuckle quietly at the action.

Her gaze lifts up to me as she begins to mix the bowl. "What's so funny?"

"Just..." I shake my head at her before I give my response. "You remind me of Gordon Ramsay, or Iron Chef. You're a whirlwind, Carol."

"I used to love cooking." She confesses, slowing her ministrations a little bit. The smile of nostalgia graces her face as she looks to me. "It was the one thing I really liked back then."

I nod to her, smiling back. "I know."

"Remember those chocolate chip cookies I used to make?"

"You mean the mint chocolate chip cookies? Of course I do!"

"With the green food dye-"

"And the drops of peppermint extract!" Those cookies were the best part of the day when I came over the Peletiers. Softly, I repeat, "I remember."

"Those were really good." Carol says, slowing her movements and reminiscing. "I should make them again."

"You should." I agree. "The team would love them. And I wouldn't mind getting my hand on a dozen or so." I add with a chuckle.

"You'll get a single cookie for that comment." She teases. "Everyone else will get two. I get the rest, remember that."

"Rude." I drawl out, but I'm smiling the whole time. It's refreshing to see her so happy, so much like before. I miss our playful banter.

But of course, all good things must come to an end. I still need to hop upstairs and clean the mess Whirlwind Judith caused. I voice it to Carol, and she nods to let me go.

Thankfully Carl and I had already cleaned out the sink and the shower. The diapers need to be restacked, and I put away the dirty onesie and hand towels into the hamper by the large closet opposite the baby crib. Not one peep comes out of the walkie talkie while I work. No static, no sounds, no nothing. I'm both relieved and still concerned for my team near the quarry.

I shake the thoughts out of my head. I worry too much. The baby powder and wipes go back to their respective spots in the cabinet by the sink in the bathroom. My eyes wander to the sink, and I smile as I see two toothbrushes on the left of the faucet. One blue, the other blue and black. Toothpaste rests beside it, nearly empty and beaten up from use. The right side of the faucet holds aftershave and a beaten up razor. I try to imagine mom and Rick in the morning, both groggy and silently fighting for who gets to go and get ready first. Who has to deal with Judith's dirty diaper when they wake up; how they go about delegating it. If mom ever walks in on Rick shaving his beard and if she cracks a wise ass comment.

The thoughts make me smile. They're so domestic to each other; they don't even realize it.

"CARL! ALYSSA!" The walkie talkie on the bed crackles to life, Rick's voice distorted by the static.

"KIDS! ONE OF YOU PICK UP NOW!"

I immediately run to the bed and jump on it to quickly grab the damn thing. My finger fumbles with the button on the side, pressing it down and hollering, "Rick! What happened? What's wrong?"

"-In the quarry." I barely register. "They broke through. We-with the plan."

"Wait." I repeat the word a good three times before what he says makes sense to me. "They broke through?"

"Yeah." This time his voice is clear as day. "We go through today."

"It's-it's supposed to be a dry run!" I stutter. My heart pumps quickly in my chest, fear skyrocketing for them.

"We have to do it today, short straw." Rick tells me. I can hear the commotion in the background, the moans of the undead behind him. "We're fine, okay? We practiced, we set everything up. We're ready."

"But Rick-"

"We can do this, okay?" He reassures me. The signal cuts in and out again. Stupid, choppy, piece of shit. "Tell Carl and Carol. Stay safe. We'll be back home later."

"Okay, okay." I breathe. "You stay safe too, sheriff."

I bite on my tongue as the line goes dead. Shit, shit!

The walkie talkie is nearly thrown on the bed in frustration. I stand up from my spot, shaking and pacing around the room. I knew something had was going to happen. I knew it.

I close my eyes and force myself to take a deep breath. Rick is right; they'll be fine. They'll come back, we'll all have dinner, and Alexandria will be safe once more.

My hands go to grip the edge of the window in between Judith's crib and changing table. The sun is shining brightly in the sky. Nothing could go wrong on a day like this, right?

I look down to the town underneath me, surveying the houses and people. On my side, I can see Mrs. Neudermeyer in front of her house, a cigarette dangling between her lips. Ah, the crazy lady who wants the pasta maker.

As she pulls the cigarette from her mouth and puffs out a bit of smoke, a man behind approaches her from behind. I furrow my brow, trying to remember him. I can't.

The guy pulls a machete from his long, beaten coat, runs to her, and slashes her stomach open with it.

I watch, silent but terrified, as she drops to the grass and cries out in pain. He wastes no time in slashing her head open to stop her whining. Grinning, the man dips his fingers into the fresh wound on her face, and he draws the letter, "W," on his forehead.

I run down the stairs as fast as I can, yanking my Glock from my hip and turning the safety off. "CAROL!"

She meets me halfway in the living room. "I know."

"How many did you see?" I pant out. The adrenaline spikes through me quickly.

"I don't know. A dozen, maybe." She answers.

Then another wave of fear crashes through me.

"Carl and Judith are still out there."

A/N: And thus ends the season six premiere for Not How We Were! Ta da! Hope you all liked it.

EDIT: After posting this, I realized I did not touch upon an important topic in my author's notes. Silly me. I guess I was just too excited putting this damn thing out that I forgot. Well, here it is:

I have grown up watching The Walking Dead. I've loved it so much as I got to watch my favorite characters grow, see some killed off, and enjoyed the new storylines that I could never have seen coming. It's kept me on my toes, and I enjoyed every minute watching it. Now? Not so much.

Truth be told, I've stopped watching it completely. Seasons 7 and 8 have been its worst yet (in my opinion,) and it hasn't held itself up well. Season 7's premiere killed off one of my favorite characters-Glenn. And season 8's midseason finale-Carl. These are OBVIOUSLY two integral characters of my story. And the show hasn't been the same since without them.

Throughout, "The World We Live In," series, I have not shied away from the deaths we see on screen, even if they hurt me to write. I loved Andrea and Michonne's relationship, but she had to go. It made sense in the story on-screen as much as it did here. It grew Michonne and Alyssa. Same with Beth. I LOVED Beth, but she had to go, and we got some Maggie and Sasha bonding on tv. On here, Alyssa went mute because of her connection to Beth, and her loss of her dear friend. I'm sure some are assuming that I will follow Glenn and Carls' death just like I did with those two.

But here's the kicker: I have decided, this is MY. STORY. I don't need to follow everything the show does. If I did, Alyssa wouldn't exist, we wouldn't have certain characters developing the way they are here, and Michonne would have had to meet Team Family on her own. So I say to those worried about me writing the end of season 6 and beyond: don't be. I am just as mad as you with what the tv show has done to our beloved characters.

Am I completely delving away from the on-screen story? No. We will still have Negan and the Saviors on here. But I will not be following the show completely. You'll notice. For once, I have an end in sight for this series. It's not soon, as I have a couple more seasons to go through, but it's being written out as we speak. I hope you all like where I'm going once we get there. I just don't have it in me to follow the show to a T. Not when they killed off Carl. Not when they've killed off Glenn. They've killed off the big hearts in the show, and it's noticeable. I won't do it here. I can't. I've put so much time and effort into this story to let it end like that.