Author's note: Thank you to those of you who are reading this story. I'm considering writing a sequel with the other members of TF. I've started a few (this story is finished. I'm cleaning it up before I post), but I'm not sure.

Him and 'Chonne fell into a routine at the castle. They planned a run from a list Tom gave them, go out, stay a day or two, come back and switch out with Seth and Adrian for the next run. In between runs they'd do watch, help with the farm, help take down a few more trees, help split firewood and stack it. This was the first time since Rand said she wanted animals they'd decided to concentrate on them. The animal place had been a bust. All of them were gone or dead. Now they were goin' to farms 'Chonne found in the phone book.

It was better with her. She'd stopped actin' like she did when they'd first gone out lookin' for the Governor. She talked to him more. Smiled a little more. It wasn't easy, but Daryl knew it'd take a while.

"Hope this place works out," he muttered from the passenger seat.

"I hope so, too."

Him, Waya and Tsula had gone out huntin' a few times and brought back some rabbits and squirrel. Still better than eatin' dog. The castle was almost like the prison, 'cept Rand never went crazy. Rooms were nicer than the cells. Sure as hell better than Alexandria. The people knew what they were doin'. The runs were nice. They used the map to find where they needed to go, they'd get what they needed and get outta there. They should have done it this way from the start.

"Turn right here," he directed when they reached Springhill Road. She did. When they saw the farmhouse, it reminded him of Hershel's place, they slowed down and idled on the road near the driveway. She shut the car off and they stared at the house.

"Don't hear nothin'."

She opened the door. "Let's check it out anyway."

They walked quietly up to the house. The ad for Springhill Farms they'd found in the phone book indicated sales to the public. It had listed farmer's markets and the local county fair as places to buy their fresh, free range eggs and goat milk. It looked big. The house looked in good shape. It was a stereotypical farm house, white with black shutters and intact windows. The porch looked weather beaten, but seemed sound. The farm that time forgot.

Every day since she left Alexandria, Michonne was glad she had and this had been a good move. She'd found a better place with better people. Her and Daryl were settling in and getting to know everyone. She almost laughed. She didn't know if it was because they'd both gotten used being around other people or Rand was a better leader than Rick could ever hope to be. The people they had were smart, skilled and knew they needed to cooperate to survive.

They cooperated well. Food was starting to grow, Daryl and Waya kept some meat coming in and Tom managed the castle. Daryl took to Waya fast. Faster than she'd ever seen him interact with anyone. She walked up the steps at Daryl's nod. She didn't see anything when she looked in the windows. Daryl walked up and stood on the other side of the door. She knocked and tilted her head at a small noise.

"You hear that?" he whispered.

"Yes," she whispered back.

"Rats?"

Michonne shrugged her shoulders, tightened her grip on her katana and opened the door. She stopped when it squeaked. Looking through the space it provided she didn't see anything. Opening it more, enough they could both squeeze through, Daryl shut it behind them.

Michonne frowned, looked at Daryl and saw he was, too. It looked clean. There wasn't a thick layer of dust on the floor and the multicolored rugs looked washed. She walked to the bookcase, seeing books for animal husbandry, romance novels, mysteries, biographies of Lincoln, Kennedy and a few other big name politicians, as she ran a finger over the shelves.

"Someone's here," she held up her clean finger.

"Know. It's clean," he hissed. "Shit. We need to go."

"We might be able to trade, Daryl."

"Are you shittin' me, 'Chonne?"

She ignored him. "Is anyone here?" she raised her voice. "We're not here to hurt you," she said again after a little while of silence. The door crashed open behind them and they both turned, weapons up.

"Good," a white man stood there holding a shotgun on them. Michonne turned at the sounds behind her and saw another white man and a Hispanic woman, both of them holding guns, too. "I don't know if I can believe you or not. You did break in my house. Drop 'em," he ordered and gestured with his shotgun.

"Fuck," Daryl growled and dropped his crossbow on the floor.

Rand raised her eyebrows at what she was hearing from Daryl and Michonne. "You think they're okay? You are the interviewing committee."

Michonne nodded. "The house was clean. Bradford Whitman, the man that ran Springhill, managed to save some of his stock. A few cows, a bull, chickens, a few pigs and goats. No turkeys," she smirked.

Rand laughed. "Forget it. If Dr. Doolittle doesn't have turkey, the deal is off." She sat back in the chair of the office. "How many people?"

"Seven. They seem alright," Daryl sat down and Rand pushed bottles of water toward them.

"Why didn't they kill you?" She cleared her throat. "I'm glad the man didn't kill you, but why?"

Michonne took the seat next to Daryl and sipped her water. "He was going to. His wife pointed out we didn't start ransacking the place when we walked in. They've had a few run-ins with people."

"Hm," she nodded her head. "Not interested in trading?"

"Need the people, Rand," Daryl pointed out.

She sighed. "I know. They know how to kill walkers, obviously. Live people weren't their only problem." She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling. "We do need the people. And the animals. Did you offer?"

"Trade, sure. Then he asked if we had place." Daryl slunk down in his chair. "Told 'em we did. He offered to trade everythin' they had to stay. Told 'em we had to come back and talk to you."

"They let you leave?"

"They're desperate, Rand. They're out there by themselves and the farm is open. We're the first people they've seen in months let alone ones that didn't start shooting or taking from them. I don't think they'll make it much longer."

"I bet." She sighed. "Alright. It's not like we don't have the room."

"Need gas."

"Take what you need and who you need. You know better than I do."

Michonne nodded. "We will. We'll take the truck and all of you, but Tom, Tsula and Mark."

"Okay. When do we leave?"

"Told 'em we'd be back tonight."

Daryl hadn't had much to laugh at in his life, but watchin' them four try and chase chickens had him laughing his ass off. The rooster was a bastard, he thought, as he wiped his bloody fingers on his pants. Damn thing kept peckin' him.

Bradford, his wife Helen, Graciela, the Hispanic woman, Ray, a black guy, Jacob, Bradford and Helen's son and two little kids, Ray's nephew, Demarcus, and Graciela's daughter, Lupe, helped load the cows and the bull into his trucks, after him and Michonne filled them up.

All they needed were the chickens and the goats. The pigs had been easy. He took the rope around two of the goat's necks and led them to Seth and Adrian's truck before lifting one, and gettin' bit, before he turned the damn thing over to Lupe. After he put all them damn things in the back he went and found Michonne, standing with Bradford and his people. Those four were still chasin' some of the chickens.

"Should we go help?" he asked Michonne.

"Let them be, son," Bradford advised.

He heard Michonne cough.

"Dad?" Jacob was tryin' not to laugh.

"We haven't had any TV," Bradford looked at him and Michonne. "Haven't had much to laugh at."

"Just a little longer," Helen requested.

It was gettin' dark out before all the chickens were in the truck with the goats and pigs. Daryl saw Seth roll his eyes at them, standing around and watching.

"You couldn't help?" Rand yelled as she wiped her hands down her shirt and pants.

"Haven't had much to laugh at," Bradford repeated with a small smile.

"You were…good," Helen whispered.

"Shall we?" Adrian shook his head and pointed to the waiting trucks.

"You guys are assholes," Rand yelled when Michonne got in the driver's seat. Daryl was in the passenger seat with Rand and Waya in the back. Bradford and his group were driving their three trucks, following Seth and Adrian.

"It was funny," she said quietly.

"It was. Funny," Waya finally admitted.

"Fuck this," Rand put her head against the seat. "I didn't think this out very well." Michonne saw her hold up her hands. "Fuckers. Then," she screeched, "we have to get them off the truck. Fuckers."

"Was funny," Daryl started laughing again. Michonne had never seen him really laugh in the time she'd known him. She found out a lot about Daryl when they were looking for the Governor. He'd never told her anything, but his reaction to the house with the moonshine told her enough. She'd watched him, early on, until she found she could trust him. She did trust him. He'd never go behind her back again. Rand was very transparent. Or maybe she was fooling herself, because she needed to trust another person she followed. Rand glared at her in the rearview mirror. No, she was transparent. She didn't want to lead. If anything, the woman would tell her she was leaving and offer suggestions before doing so.

This was a good life. As good as she was going to get with walkers and dicks.

Rand eyed the new people sitting down at the next table and eating some of the soup they had. And they had a lot of soup. They were quiet. She looked at her pecked hands and scowled. Daryl, the ass, just laughed. She saw Michonne studiously ignoring Daryl. She bet Michonne wanted to laugh, too. When they were done, Seth and Waya took dishes to the kitchen, followed by Tom, another one who'd laughed as they got the damn things off the truck, Mark, Adrian and Tsula, leaving her, Michonne and Daryl. She stood up, walked over to their table and sat down.

"Finished?"

"Yes," Bradford nodded.

"Thank you, dear," Helen smiled with tears in her eyes. She was an older white lady, Rand pegged her in her fifties, blond gray hair, around five six, with brown eyes. Her husband, Bradford, looked to be the same age, with black hair, threaded with gray and brown eyes. He had a few inches on his wife. Their son, Jacob, was about his dad's height, blond hair and brown eyes and looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. Ray had close cropped brown hair, brown eyes and was lighter than Michonne. He stood at least six feet, early to mid-thirties. His nephew, Demarcus, the kid couldn't have been older than Mark, was almost as tall as Helen, brown hair and brown eyes. Graciela had a tan complexion, long brown hair, brown eyes and about Helen's height. She looked late twenties. Her daughter, Lupe, was the same but shorter and around Tsula's age. She almost kicked them out, she was used to her group. It'd take some time getting used to seeing more faces around here.

Daryl and Michonne stood behind Jacob and Ray, facing her.

She cleared her throat. "I'm sure Michonne and Daryl went over the few rules we have here."

"They did. No guns inside. They didn't say you had walls. This was that castle place, wasn't it?" Bradford asked.

"It was," she narrowed her eyes. "How did you know?"

"It was in all the papers," Helen responded. "It was a big to do."

"Huh. Yes, this is the castle place. Watch for anyone over sixteen. You need to know how to use guns, you can't carry them inside the walls."

"We know how to use guns," Jacob sneered.

"We've had to kill people," Graciela growled.

"I bet. Most of us here have killed people. Some of us before, some of us after. It'll take a while for all of us to settle down. We've been here a few months with just us, like you and your group, Bradford. Tom's the seneschal."

"The seneschal?" Helen questioned.

"He manages the castle, except for weapons and defense. If you need anything let him know and he'll help you. Do any of you have any special skills?"

"I was an EMT in Roanoke," Ray offered.

"Good. You've now been promoted to doctor. This place had a clinic. You might want to look it over. Tell Tom if we need anything you can think of. We have some medicine," she ignored Daryl as he scoffed, "and it's all in the clinic. Rearrange how you like."

"I was a school teacher," Helen volunteered. "I don't know if you count that as a special skill."

"The kids have been out of school for, you know. Tsula and Mark know some French, Spanish, Russian, German, Cherokee, Swedish, Japanese and Farsi. Enough to get by if they were to ever meet someone that spoke them. Tsula's fluent in Cherokee."

"She's Native American?" Bradford raised his eyebrows.

"She is, as is Waya. If you'd like to teach them some of the basics, I'm sure we have things around here you can use. Tomorrow, you'll get a tour. Stay in the rooms you're in or move, just tell Tom if you do. Anything else?"

"Are you the liege?" Jacob challenged.

Rand cleared her throat again. "After a fashion, I suppose I am. Will it be a problem?"

"Will we have to bow down to you?"

She raised her eyebrows. "You watched too many movies. If you're bowing down to me it means I've punched you so hard in the stomach you can't stand up. I make the decisions and so far no one's had a problem," she narrowed her eyes at Michonne and Daryl. "We haven't had any problems and I don't want any. We save that shit for outside."

"Jake," Helen chided.

"We also haven't had any dick issues. We're relatively sheltered here, but how long will it last? I hope for a good long time. But I'm realistic. Daryl and Michonne said you were out in the middle of nowhere and you had dick issues. We'll have some. One more thing. Horses?"

"We didn't raise any. We haven't seen any. A few of our neighbors had some, but after a few times of trying to check on them, I stopped. I couldn't tell you," Bradford said.

"Thank you. Gas will run out and I don't want us to walk everywhere trying to haul shit back. We do ask you stay inside the castle when it gets dark outside. We normally keep the drawbridge up, unless someone's leaving. It's not mandatory, but we're sleeping. If you go out at night? Plan on staying where you are until morning. I think that's it. Michonne? Daryl? Anything to add?"

They shook their heads.

"Meals?"

"Like I said earlier, it's been us for the past couple of months. We took turns. We have a KP schedule. Tom's in charge of running that portion of the castle. He'll get with you. If you want to eat separate from us? I don't see the problem as long as you clean up after yourselves. We do have alcohol but we frown on being drunk. If some dick rolls up with a tank? I'm not carrying your drunk ass anywhere. No one here will. I think we've covered everything for right now. If you have other questions ask Tom." Rand stood. "We'll see you in the morning."

Daryl headed out to the bailey with a cigarette. He saw one of the stone benches they had around the place, they'd been painted he could tell, and sat down. They'd been here a few months. It didn't seem that long. Hell, at the prison they was just starting to get their shit together. After Woodbury and the Governor. Merle. They had most of this at the prison, not growing food and shit, but walls and fences. Seemed like it didn't take as long this time.

"You alright?" Michonne took a seat on the bench.

"Yeah," he nodded. "A few months?"

"Three plus according to Tom. We were here before him, so maybe four?"

"Don't seem that long."

He saw her shake her head no. "It doesn't."

He huffed out a breath. "Hell, at the prison it took us a few months to get it runnin' kinda smooth. That was before the garden and the pigs."

"We know what to do now, Daryl," she noted.

He shrugged. "I guess. We were lucky."

"We are lucky."

He took a drag of his cigarette. "Rick said the Alexandrians were lucky. And they got luckier with us showin' up."

"Right," she scoffed.

"Maybe Rick's right, 'Chonne," he argued.

"Maybe, Daryl, but how he's doing things? It's not my way. The offer's open. I can ask Rand go talk to Rick."

"Nah. I like it here," he admitted after a few minutes.

"Stone walls and a moat?"

"Yeah. Green Beret. Lots of guns, more than Alexandria. No stupid ass parties." He paused. "I thought about askin' Rand to go with back with me so she could run the place."

Michonne scathingly laughed. "Right. She would have left. I think we should stop thinking about them and that place, Daryl. We're not there. I'm not. I'll miss Carl and Judith, but Rick will take care of them. He loves his kids. It's why he wanted to take over, I'm sure."

"Yeah. Us."

'Chonne nodded. "I don't particularly care for Carol. Sasha? We were all having problems when we got there. Me, too. My head's on straight now. Glenn and Maggie are good people. I'm not sure about Tara, Abraham, Rosita or Eugene. Father Gabriel?" She shrugged. "Maybe he'll turn out to be useful. I left that place of my own free will. You? You were forced out. I feel for you, Daryl. Rick and his group were a part of your life. An important part. Mine, too. Rick? I understood, and told him I understood, why he would've handed me over to the Governor. What he wanted to do? Reminded me of the Governor. Rick might be right. The Alexandrians may have gotten lucky someone took the time, or will take the time, to make them see what it's really like out there. It could have been handled a different way. Right now we're here. We only have sixteen people. Four of them kids. Dicks will find us sooner or later. There's no getting around it. If you're here, you need to be here. With us." She stood up. "I want you to think about something. Even Merle didn't agree with Rick."

Michonne laid in bed that night wondering if using Merle was a cheap shot. Daryl needed to make a decision. She'd rather he stay here with them. He was a good man.

"Shit," she turned on her back. Maybe she should ask Rand to go talk to Rick about Daryl. After she got done beating his ass, he might listen. She wasn't with them that long. Long enough to start forming some ties to Carl and a few of the others, but not as long as Daryl. Rick probably saved Daryl's life and vice versa. She and Rick had done the same. Joe and the assholes. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Daryl was kinda pissed at 'Chonne, talkin' how Merle didn't agree with Rick. Hell, he didn't agree with Rick. Rick was the leader. He had some fucked up moments. Everyone did. Him. Carol. Glenn. Rand had her share. He huffed out a laugh. 'I didn't think this out well' seemed to be something she said every time somethin' didn't go how she thought. She admitted it. Rick did. After a while.

He went inside and slowed down near Michonne's room. He stood outside her door and debated. "Fuck this," he whispered and went to his room where he stripped and laid down. It was easy for Rick to turn on him. Like he'd turned on 'Chonne. Fuck.

He got up the next mornin' to see Helen servin' real eggs. He nodded at her and started eatin'. When Michonne came in he looked her in the eye. "I'm here."

"Thank you," she smiled at him.

Adrian listened to Daryl and Michonne with some unease. Whatever they talked about, it seemed to be settled. He was…glad. He liked Daryl and Michonne. He liked everyone in this group. Tom had a wicked sense of humor. Tsula was a scrappy little girl, much like her uncle. He smiled to himself as he recalled the water duty debate between her and Mark. He'd have put money on her.

Funny how the illusion of safety changed people and dynamics. It was dangerous now. It was dangerous before. People still died. People still killed other people. People still lost homes. People still raped or were raped. People still stole things. The dangers were more…dangerous. Walkers threw a relatively large spanner in the works. He and Seth had been lucky compared to other places they'd seen after they left the base.

Surreptitiously, he looked at the other occupants of the table. He decided he was happy with this illusion.