I woke up in the small hours just before the sun rose. The light on his face changing from the pale blue of night into dawn. Shallow though it was, Rick was still breathing. I kept on watching him like that, curled up on the couch, the dim morning light inching closer to his still working eye. When it finally fell on him, he began to shift. I couldn't bring myself to move. He let out a gruff breath and ran a hand over his face as he opened his eyes. Not missing a single beat, he noticed my unfamiliar presence in the room, and was making for his Colt before realizing that it was gone, and that I was no threat to him. And his face changed, looking surprised, and... relieved.

"Tess?"

It was lower, grating, a little strained, perfect.

"Morning, sunshine." My lips curved. He tried to push his weight forward to sit up but his ribs checked him and made him groan.

"No, don't. Just relax."

He sank back onto the cushions. The bright blue fell on his still sleeping boy, and then right back on me.

"You made it out? How'd you find us?"

"I didn't. Carl found me, actually. Y'know, I gotta say, he's a pretty amazing kid."

"He is."

I stood up with one hand and plopped back down on the edge of the couch. The sunlight let me survey his face a bit better. The swelling had gone down a lot since last night. That or the moonlight had me fooled. I pushed a strand of his curly, sweaty hair back to take a look at another scar that was beginning to form. I knew the bright blue was fixed on me. I didn't mind.

"What's the diagnosis, Doc?"

My eyes rolled instinctively.

"Well, you look about as good as anybody who's recently been beat up by a pirate, but you'll live. Ribs are bruised, but they're healing right from what I can see. I do wanna get some peroxide on that leg, though."

"Fair enough."

We let Carl rustling in his sheets distract us if only for a second. I bit the inside of my lip. I still hadn't answered his first question. I considered lying. Make up some brave excuse. Something along the lines of 'I fought tooth and nail 'till I couldn't and had to retreat'. Maybe it was the groggy air of the morning that dissuaded me. Maybe it was something else.

"I left." I admitted. Silence.

"I heard the first shots, went through D block. It was stupid, cowardly. I shouldn't have. If you want me to go I'd understand."

The brush of fingers against mine snapped my eyes left.

"Do you want to go?" The bright blue pleaded. My fingers twitched against his.

"No."

"Then stay."

I dared not look at him. I wouldn't be able to stop myself if I did. I covered his hand before standing and picking up an empty canvas bag by the kitchen archway.

"I'm gonna go on a run real quick."

"Didn't we just agree that you were staying?"

"Does that mean you don't want me to get you some ibuprofen?"

He smiled and nodded.

"It wouldn't hurt."

My axe sang as I lifted if from the floor. Headed for the back door where I came in earlier that evening in order to draw less attention. Shufflers probably multiplied over night.

"Hey," he whispered and I turned.

"Be safe."

I felt the corners of my lips upturn as I opened the door.

"When have I not?"

A can of pudding pointed me towards my destination. A similar house, white, wrap-around porch, door already open. Cabinets in the kitchen were already cleared, no medicine cabinet in the downstairs bathroom. Thudding drifted down the hallway, but never left its place from right above me. Shuffler was probably trapped upstairs.

Sure enough, first door at the top of the stairs shook and rattled with each knock. A message in uneven chalky print clued me in.

"Walker inside. Got my shoe, didn't get me."

I opened the door. It growled and lunged. The neck was the easiest target, so I went for it. The body went limp as the axe blade sunk in, sputtering around flecks of cold, wet, brown blood. The head still snapped as it rolled over towards the staircase. Another quick swipe and the bald head was cloven, the house finally at peace. I picked up small, brown hiking boot among the books littering the floor. Looked like a dog (or walker in this case) had made it its chew toy, but it was still intact. Could've been Carl's size, and wasn't his left foot bare last night? I couldn't remember. If it wasn't his we could just toss it later.

I went for the nightstand near the jarred window at the far end of the room. The contents were all jumbled. Walker must have bumped into it a few times. Lo and behold, the bottle rattled against the force of the drawer. I bagged it, and the shoe, and began for the door again.

My foot kicked a book and it went skidding across the room, shoving other ones in its way until it came to a full stop. The lettering glinted on the cover as it went past in the morning light. I followed its trail to the corner where it had stopped and picked it up, brushing it of the dust.

He spoke in silent gestures. Four shufflers up ahead. No match for us of course, but the alert was appreciated. He gripped his knife and the handle of the tomahawk twisted under my thumb. He went first. What a gentleman

Not a sound. A squelching from blood and brain and then the fall. I could handle the second. Caught it between the wide head and the wall. I pulled back. He'd killed the third but the fourth was coming and he hadn't gotten his knife out yet. One more righteous jerk and it was free. He probably wasn't expecting to see my axe quarter-tilt right in its forehead. The bright blue fell on me at the follow-through. We heard the thud. His adam's apple bobbed.

"Thanks"

"Hey, what are friends for?"

The hall still gurgled, mixing with worn soles scuffing on concrete. Sounded like more than we could handle. Guess we were being a little too loud for them. The door to my right was just begging to be hidden behind as we rested before the fray inevitably came back to us. I tilted my head toward it and he agreed, grabbing the handle of my axe and pulling it out with a swift tug followed in behind me.

The scent hit me first. Worn pages, grime, and that hint of death that seemed to seep into everything. We blocked the door with a temporary chair and allowed ourselves the well-earned catching of our breaths.

It was small. Looked like it had been well kept and stocked before. Not even a laminate wrap out of place. Then again this probably wouldn't be the most efficient place to hold up when the dead came knocking. Still, it was a treasure, a forgotten heirloom tucked away where you wouldn't think to find it, and I treated it like anyone would when finding such a rare, unmarred gem.

"So this is what my taxes were going to."

I ran my fingers over the bindings, leaving a trail free of dust behind them. He followed, footsteps gently chanting behind me.

Then I saw it. A chuckle and a quick shake of my head, and I pulled it off the shelf.

"What is it?" he asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.

I showed him the cover over my shoulder.

"Irony."

That's when I heard it. Not quite a breath, not quite a laugh. A gigglish presence, barely there, as though resurrected along with the bodies that walked in the halls outside. But it was still there, and I'll never forget that sound.

"Wow." I sighed, "I think that's the first time I've ever heard you laugh."

"Yeah, well... don't go around telling everyone. I have a reputation to uphold."

I smiled back.

"Don't worry."

The book flopped back down heavily into my left hand. The dead finally got to the door and started knocking. No doubt the rest of our team would be here soon to clear them out a bit.

"It feels so... weird." I blurted. And it did. It felt so foreign. The weight of it. I was used to the weight of my axe. The weight as I swung it in the way I needed it. But this was... alien, now.

"I- I never thought I'd be saying that."

"Not much time for reading anymore." he reasoned, "For anyone."

I nodded.

"No. There isn't."

Finally, I parted the sea of books, sliding the paperback in between.

"Where were you?" he asked. I turned.

"When it started." he clarified.

I remembered the ballroom. The music was loud. Twangy, songs I'd never listen to on my own and most I'd never heard. But it was alive. It was what an event like it should be. And there I sat alone at my table, ever the cynic, drowning myself in free champagne as life skipped and jumped, laughing around me. Just like always.

I smiled, half-heartedly, looking back to the bright blue.

"I was at a wedding."

His shoulders slacked, waiting for the story to continue..

"Friend of mine had a sister who was getting married in Louisiana. She didn't want to go all the way down to 'the backwoods' alone. So I agreed to be her 'plus one'. Just my luck, world goes to hell and I get to go through it with total strangers."

"You were in a group?"

I nodded.

"Yeah. For a while."

"Are they-"

"Dead." I interrupted. His face became grave, as he formulated consoling words.

"I'm so sorry. Losing your people, that can't have been easy."

I shrugged.

"I didn't know them very long. And some of them..."

I remembered the man with the knife.

"Some of them, I didn't really know."

"Still," he said, shifting his weight a little closer "our group here, it's as good as family. Loosing any one of them, whether they're blood, or not..."

His voice broke a little, and he looked at the ground to re-gain himself.

"It's hard."

"Yeah," I agreed,"it is."

My voice suddenly felt cold, remembering the silence.

"But there's no time for sentiment. Not in this world. My tears aren't going to make them forget about wanting to eat me."

"All I'm saying is-"

"I know," I nodded, "and thank you. But that's in the past. There's no going back."

"I don't believe that." he stated flatly.

"It's not a matter of believing." I replied in turn, my own gaze drifting to the floor. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You found us."

It lingered there and I couldn't divert myself from the bright blue any longer. They gleamed with hope. A fools hope, but it bore into me. I couldn't ignore it.

"You found this family. And now, you're one of us. That sounds an awful lot like coming back to me."

The door slammed open.

"Hey, Bonnie and Clyde!"

The bright blue snapped away just as mine did. Our saviors had finally arrived. The kid with the swat gear took out another one of the shufflers crowding the hall, and aiding him was his wife, as well as the tall dark and handsome guy with a Hammer and the one wielding the katana. The archer was holding the door open. He looked like a kid catching his parents making out, rolling his eyes and(maybe not quite) about to puke.

"We could use a little help."

He joined the others, giving the door another little kick to keep it open. I couldn't help but notice Rick's face had reddened a few shades.

"Duty calls."

And then there was only one color left in all the world...

Red. And it was quiet.

The man with knife was quiet. They were all quiet. I didn't want to know why. But I did. So I ended the silence. It ended in a gush an a gurgle and a grip and it was loud. Enough to draw shufflers. But did I really end it? It was his fault after all.

He was the reason for the red and the silence. Nothing left but red and bones and silence. It was his fault. He did it. I didn't-

My tears fell on the cover. I couldn't move. But I needed to move. I would be no use if I couldn't move. So I came back. Piece by piece. The first step was to breathe.

I inhaled.

"You can't lie forever, Tess."

I exhaled.

"I never lied to him."

I opened my eyes.

"You keep telling yourself that."

The binding was so frail in the crook of my palm. I could've left it. I probably should've left it. But I wanted to leave that place more. So I bagged the book, and left the room, picking up a bit of unused chalk on my way out and answered the message on the door.

"Got the shoe. Returning to owner."