Journey to You

Chapter Eight

Feral Calla vs Human Calla


Here's the next chapter! Things are starting to heat up. I hope you enjoy this because we're about to go for a rollercoaster ride in the next couple of chapters.


"Come on and break me down

I'll let you ruin my day

Flow through my veins

I need a fix

bitter and sick

-Bitter and Sick by One Two

At the end of the first week of working together, Calla opened her door to the sight of Martinez, and Philip, both invited her and Maverick to dinner, congratulations of sorts for her surviving the first week. She hadn't been allowed to say no. Philip had been pushy, leaving little room for her to respond, as he used her weakness against her, speaking directly to Maverick, getting him to want to go, and forcing her to agree, or risk breaking the child's heart.

He had very little in things that made him smile.

Maverick didn't like being alone and holed up inside the apartment, and Philip's offer was easy for the boy to get excited about.

They usually had better-tasting food at Philips.

It burned Calla up inside with anger, one she was barely able to hold back, before following after them.

This quickly turned into a habit, she found, as at the end of every week, one or both of them would appear at her door, and ask her to join them at Philips. It was always with the two of them. She had managed to avoid one, but Philip, the crafty bastard, was quick to work around that, always backing her in a corner, until it became easier to agree with them.

He simply wanted her to open up.

It was better for Maverick to have time out of the apartment.

It was good for her to be around people.

At least this way she wouldn't have to be surrounded by a group of people she barely knew as she entertained them with small talk.

His points made sense.

He had seen the way Calla put up a front for the others that lived in the community. She was kind, and open, with no rude or sarcastic comments, and he had taken notice of the way it heavily impacted how she felt.

She was free, and encouraged, to be as rude as she wanted to be around him. Calla wasn't bothered by Martinez seeing this side of her. If she was being honest those two were the only ones, she felt she could open up to. To show how she truly felt without gaining odd looks of concern, or fear. She couldn't afford to alienate Maverick from the others. He needed, and deserved, contact with other people. She didn't want him growing up emotionally stunted.

All of it was incredibly tiring for her.

By the middle of the second month of her working for Philip, Calla had stopped arguing about joining for the weekly dinners and had truly given in.

Even some of the rudeness had escaped her, a desire for friendship wearing her down, but something about him just dragged it from her, the occasional rude remark, but she couldn't help the ease at which she spoke to him, and Martinez as time went by. He never seemed bothered by her behavior. The walls over her mind, and heart, were still high, but she had begun to let them in a tiny bit.

Every week Philip would have a report to give to her, about how Martinez would go out and search for signs of her husband, but never had anything to give to her in terms of good news. She wanted to believe that he was truly doing this, and there was no reason for her to believe otherwise, but that dark part of her whispered it, nonetheless.

The routine that had snuck up on her, having become normal, came to an uncomfortable, and awkward halt one night when Calla begrudgingly showed up at Philip's apartment for their weekly dinner. It was no longer the worst thing she could be doing. Maverick was bouncing at her side. Loving that his mama had friends now and that it gave him something to look forward to doing. It was better than the life they were living before, and though he missed his daddy, that sensation had slowly begun to dull to the back of his mind the longer he was away from Daryl, and the more people he was surrounded by.

Calla took in the way that only Philip was in the apartment. By now it was just expected for her to show up. If she didn't, usually Philip would show up at her door, and refuse to leave, making himself a nuisance until she agreed to come along. She had grown tired of the dance they had been keeping to and decided it was just easier to come willingly and leave as quickly as possible. Only lingering on days when the loneliness was at its worst, and the dark spiraling thoughts inside her mind wouldn't relent. It helped, she found, when there were others to speak to, to make them disappear. Philip may think of her as a friend, but Calla stood strong in not allowing the same emotions. A battle that she knew she was slowly losing. Philip and Martinez were quickly becoming her only allies.

Today, Martinez's usually rambunctious, and welcoming face, was not ready to greet her from the dining table, as Philip ushered her further inside the apartment. She had grown comfortable with the knowledge that he was always here. He was like a comforting, and safe wall, placed between her, and Philip, who seemed determined to tear down her defenses. Calla was simply waiting him out, knowing that eventually he would grow bored, and decided that getting to know her wasn't worth it. Except he never seemed to pick up on the memo.

It was increasingly frustrating on which side she was leaning more toward. Wanting friends or being far too terrified of the mere idea of letting anyone in.

She instantly went on edge, eyes narrowing on Philip's form, watching as he finished up with dinner. He was the only one that ever cooked. Calla never asked to, not wishing to do anything that might make it seem like she was the one giving in, and Martinez admitted to being a terrible cook.

"Where's Martinez?"

"He sent word that he wouldn't be able to join us tonight," Philip said calmly. He eyed her, taking in the way she was already drawn up tight, put on edge by his sole presence. "Work is running longer than normal, an issue was brought up before he could leave, and he's the best man for the job."

"We should just postpone then," Calla said quickly. The idea of being here, alone with this man, put her on edge, making her uncomfortable. She didn't know what to do when it was just the two of them. Philip almost seemed to have expectations of her. One's that had never been put into words. Nor had he ever shown her what they could possibly be, but there was something there, always on the edge of the words he spoke to her.

He kept his distance.

Even when his words were teasing, and friendly, he never grew physically close to her.

It was the only thing that ever kept her from bolting.

Philip knew that, but it never felt as if he had bad intentions toward her. There was never anything that should put her on edge. Yet she was. He was simply frustratingly nice.

Perhaps Calla had allowed herself to slip into the role of one of the sick for far too long and she no longer knew how to interact with others. She felt awkward, confused, and uncomfortable. Her people skills, which she had always been proud of, were nowhere in sight these days.

The lack of them made her even rougher around the edges.

It's why she tried being so nice to those that lived here, whom she listened to and had to work closely with.

Everyone except Philip, who seemed to have no problems with her attitude, as he continued to place himself directly in her line of annoyance. Almost as if he was drawing all of that negative energy and focusing it solely on himself. It was yet another thing that put her on edge, but it also made her feel grateful to him.

"No need." Philip strode forward, moving carefully around them, as he placed a pot on the table. Inside smelt like some kind of soup, and she wondered if it was just leftovers of the food he had left, and needed to get rid of before they went bad. It smelt good. Begrudgingly Calla had to admit he could cook decently. "He'll just join us next time. He'll swing by after if he can, and I need help clearing out this food."

He motioned for her to sit.

Calla couldn't help the way her eyes turned back toward the door, the desire to retire to their small oasis of freedom, and solitude calling out to her, but she sighed and helped Maverick up onto the chair he normally sat at.

"How was your day, Maverick?" he asked the boy kindly. Calla frowned, the urge to keep him at a distance always drifting away when he kindly included her son in a conversation like this. How could she hate him for that? Was friendship really such a terrible thing? Scooping up a small bowl of soup for her son, she listened to the way he spoke excitedly about the other kids he played with today. It had taken Calla time, a lot of it, to give in, and allow him to stay at the little daycare for the smaller children, while their parents worked during the day.

The place had a daycare.

The woman that ran it was kind, older than her, and she suspected Philip, but held no problems keeping up with the more rambunctious children. After meeting her Calla's worries had eased, and eventually, she had given in, letting Maverick try it out, for small periods of time, that slowly built up to the point that he stayed the entire time she worked.

This community was slowly growing on her, the people within it pulling at her walls, but Calla was far too afraid of letting them all in. Her walls had been built for a reason, but they hadn't seemed to figure that out. Though her mind hadn't figured out that this place seemed safe, and that she could finally rest, it refused her that.

"What about you?"

Startled, Calla glanced up, freezing in the action of bringing the spoon up to her lips, as she blinked, trying to figure out what Philip had been saying to her.

"What?"

"How was your day?"

The question set her on edge. Most things he asked, or said to her did, and there was no real reasoning for it. The question felt far too intimate, which was confusing, as she had been asked that question countlessly by those that lived in Woodbury. It shouldn't have been any different from Philip, but there was always an edge underlying his words when he spoke to her, and it caused Calla to grow defensive as his mouth opened, and before words tumbled out. She thought he found it amusing. He was usually smiling, or chuckling, before she ever even spoke, finding something entertaining about her actions, and the way she held herself.

"It's just a question," he said soothingly when she still hadn't answered him. "Will there ever be a day when you feel comfortable enough around me to drop your guard?"

"No."

"And here I thought we were becoming friends."

That annoying smile was still tugging at his lips. He found enjoyment in this conversation, not bothered by her rudeness, even when others would have been. Calla grew silent, internally debating on what he was to her, friend, or not. He waited, sensing the unease, and uncertainty, but that smile never left, even as the seconds ticked by.

"I don't know if I'd call you a friend or not." Calla decided to be truthful. She wasn't trying to be rude at that moment. He seemed to just know that.

"You call me Philip."

"Simply because I refuse to call you Governor, and you won't tell me your last name. It's not out of closeness." She angrily swallowed the mouthful of food, cursing that it tasted delicious, and wished to focus solely on finishing so they could leave. His line of questioning, what this had turned into, caused her to grow uncomfortable. All etiquette that she once knew had fled her mind, and she found herself anxious at the fact that they were probably actually friends by this point. "You shouldn't get your hopes up on me becoming close to you. It probably won't happen."

"Friends eat dinner with one another regularly." He said this slowly as if explaining it to a small child who found themselves confused on the topic, and even though she wished to be angry about it, Calla knew that's how she was acting.

"You're annoyingly persistent. I'm simply here because if I said no, you'd linger outside my door like a kicked puppy and bring upon more rumors."

Uncalled for, but her anxiety had her lashing out, trying to push him away, to make that smile leave his face, but it never did. He expected this from her. Philip didn't judge her for it. Not like how others would have had in the beginning, when her slip-ups happened more frequently.

Her shoulders tensed at the reminder of what had happened the second time she had told him no. She had made sure Maverick wasn't nearby and couldn't be tempted in agreeing to go eat with them, so Philip had simply leaned against her door, calling out to her, and whining about how he simply wanted to hang out with her. He wanted to be her friend.

It had kicked up an annoyingly high number of rumors the next day, about how he had stayed outside for a good portion of the night, trying to tempt her into agreeing, and by that afternoon everyone was convinced that he was in love with her, and Calla wasn't interested in him trying to win her heart.

Some of the more gossiping older ladies had cornered her, asking why she wouldn't give the man a chance, singing his praises, and how her boy would need a good man around as he grew. Calla had been horrified at the idea that people thought Philip had somehow fallen in love with her, she was certain he hadn't, he merely enjoyed messing with her, and she made sure to tell them as such. By the end she had begun to grow furious, firmly asking them to rid their minds of such things, as her son had a man in his life, and she didn't want anyone trying to take Daryl's place in Maverick's life, nor hers. She may have been a little too harsh in saying this last part, scaring the women, as they hastily apologized, but Calla hadn't cared.

There was no one else that would ever belong in her heart.

Calla believed that firmly.

Even if Daryl had died, and she was to know with certainty that he passed away, Calla would never move on to someone else. She loved him fiercely, with her whole heart, and there simply was no room for someone new. She'd go to her grave with him being the only man who had her heart.

"Are you still worried about those?" he asked her curiously. "I've told you, I've spoken to everyone, and no one believes that ruckus anymore. You're afraid that being here alone with me will start them up again."

"No." She wasn't afraid of that. Calla had long since accepted that there would be rumors flying around like that, as long as Philip continued being an idiot who seemed to enjoy rude women. "It's annoying to hear, but I don't care." As long as no more people came up to her trying to get her to go out on a date with the man.

If he ever even tried something like that Calla knew it wouldn't be long before he stopped.

She dealt with his persistent, sometimes annoying, demands, but she would not entertain the idea of him wishing to date her, or even having a chance at it. She had made her views of him quite clear. Calla was certain that he understood she wasn't interested in him, and that there was no interest in his end. He just seemed to need her close, but Calla suspected it was to make sure she held up her end of the deal of getting better, and not being a danger before she decided to leave or stay. Perhaps he would be the one to kick her out when the time came.

"It's best to simply ignore such claims. Eventually, they will fade away." He shrugged, finishing his bowl, as he leaned back in his seat. Seeing her opening Calla hurried her own movements of eating, nearing the end of her bowl, before her quick getaway was set back. "Mrs. Jenkins gave me a basket of freshly baked cookies. Would you like some Maverick?"

The kids' blue eyes widened in joy. Freshly baked cookies had been a thing of the past. If they had been lucky Calla had found them stale prepackaged cookies. She could see the sparkle in his eyes light up at the idea of something that would surely taste better than the stuff they found out on the road.

"Mama?"

"Sure."

Begrudgingly she sat back in her chair, slowly finishing her soup, knowing that they wouldn't be leaving as quickly as she wished to. He had set her on edge tonight. It wasn't his fault that she was feeling the need to escape. Understanding it mentally, and getting her mind to accept that, were two very different things.

Her eyes followed Philip, carefully eyeing what he was doing, as he went over to the kitchen, and placed his bowl in the sink, before grabbing the cookies he promised. He gave the boy two. It brought a huge smile to Maverick's face as he thanked him before shoving them into his mouth. It was the grossest display of cooking eating that Calla had ever seen, but upon witnessing the wince on Philip's face, she didn't dare try to correct the behavior.

Maybe Philip would think twice before inviting them over for cookies in the future.

He reached out, a cookie in hand, waving it in front of Calla, who not being able to stop herself, snatched it up with a muttered thanks. Manners had been engrained in her since she was young, and the thank you slipped out before she could think about stopping it, as her mother's voice nagged in her ear.

The rest of the night was spent in a somewhat pleasant atmosphere as Calla waited for the exact moment that Maverick had finished his cookie, before thanking Philip for dinner, and then herding her son out the door. All the while Philip watched them, that smile firmly planted on his face, as he waved at them from his doorway. Maverick excitedly waved goodbye back, and Calla felt herself giving into the urge to be human, and decent, as she returned the wave.

The next week went back to being normal, and the week after that, before Martinez ditched them yet again, leaving Calla to try to figure out if this was on purpose, or if it was just another coincidence. Surely, there would be times like this, Martinez was a busy man, and Calla wondered if she could use an excuse like that. The idea of getting out of one of the dinners was highly appealing, and Calla decided to try it the following week. That anxious sensation was always right under her skin, prickling, and digging at her.

A part of her, the paranoid part, the one that Calla was certain she would never get rid of, no matter what happened in the future, nagged at her that maybe something more was going on. Philip was always pleasant at these dinners, stating that he enjoyed the company, but when Martinez was absent, he seemed to grow happier, and more content. Calla wasn't certain if this was the truth, or if was she just seeing this, making it materialize because she still hadn't allowed herself to trust the man. Maybe it was because she had begun to trust him, and that thought kicked a new kind of panic deep inside of her.

The next day, when she ran into Martinez, who had been lazily walking alongside a male that she didn't recognize, Calla decided to stop and ask him. He waved the other man away, a departing joke fell from their lips, a laugh, and then the stranger was gone, and Martinez's entire attention was on her.

"Do you find it funny to leave me alone with him for those dinners?" she asked, falling in line next to him as they both moved toward the daycare. He knew exactly where she had been heading at this time of day.

Curiosity swam in the depths of his eyes before a spark of realization rushed them, drowning out the dark color, and lighting them with amusement. He was another annoying person who found her amusing.

"I didn't do it on purpose," he said with a laugh. "There was work to be done, and we're a little short-handed right now. I'm picking up the slack. Though I do find it amusing about how it bothers you so much."

"He pushes my buttons."

"You let him."

"I don't understand why he feels the intense urge to annoy me so much. You'd think he'd grow tired of being snapped at all of the time."

"I guess you could see it as the equivalent of a boy pulling a girl's pigtails."

Calla froze, her body had stiffened, completely going still, as the blood in her veins froze. Martinez, noticing, stopped, turning to look at her with a tilt of his head, showing his confusion, before a rush of red flooded his face, as he realized what had escaped from his lips.

She hadn't been expecting something like that to be said. Not by Martinez. He had never fed into the rumors. He had been around the two of them often enough that Calla knew if anyone understood what their relationship was like, it would be Martinez. There was no way she could just ignore what the man had let slip.

He had been implying that Philip had a crush on her.

From anyone else, she would have laughed it off, snapped out some kind of rude retort, and fixed their way of thinking. She couldn't with him. Martinez knew Philip better than most. How could she ignore that?

The breath in her lungs had gotten stuck, refusing to rush back out, as her mind and body panicked. Calla was beginning to feel lightheaded.

"Fuck." Rushing forward Martinez lightly gripped her shoulders and shook. "It's really not that bad. Come on, snap out of it." He gave her a stern glance. His eyes had narrowed, and he looked completely done with her shit. "It's a fucking crush, Dixon. Not the end of the world."

"How do you know?"

"It's pretty fucking obvious. The way he pushes at your buttons, always smiling, inviting you to dinner, asking me to be there so you'll have no reason to say no."

"He did that?"

"What? Thought he was having me over before you showed up at our doorstep? Naw. We weren't that close. He saw me as someone you knew, and were comfortable with, and used it to his advantage. I'm not saying it was a bad thing. You needed to get used to being around people. Those dinners with the Governor and I weren't a bad thing."

Calla forcefully shoved the air back through her lungs, breathing in, and then back out, as she tried telling her body that this was not a flight, or fight instance. It vaguely shook, as that sensation flooded her body, the desire to run and hide, and the need to fight, until Philip changed his mind. Neither would be helpful at this exact moment so she tried bottling it up.

"I don't like him like that. Or at all. I don't like people." The words tumbled from her lips in a wave of emotion as she tried halting her frantically racing mind. She curled her fingers, digging them into the meaty part of her palm, as she tried gathering the shock, and fear that had flooded her body.

"Yeah. I caught onto that." His tone of voice was flat, unwavering, as he sent her a deadpan stare. "Look, for what it's worth, there's no way he hasn't caught onto it either. Has he tried to do anything about it? Other than try to befriend you?" Calla didn't like that she automatically wanted to say no. He may have been annoying, and now some of his actions made a little more sense, but he had never come out and told her he liked her and wanted to be with her. There had been the opportunity to do such a thing when the rumors had first started to spread. Instead, he had cleared them up, guiding his people away from the gossip.

"No."

The word felt like acid in her mouth because she knew it was right. That didn't change the fact that she felt entirely out of her depth, knowing that there were such emotions swirling around inside of him, and wondering what kind of fucked up person he was if he decided to fall for the likes of her.

"See. No harm done. Just pretend like you never heard me say that. He's being respectful of your feelings. You should show the same courtesy. Don't go treating him like shit for it. Okay?"

Pretending as if she had never heard of it wouldn't be likely. It rang inside her head, bouncing around, and loudly blaring that there was danger. It was an idiotic reaction. Martinez was right. Philip hadn't tried to make a move on her. He knew that she was in love with her husband, stuck on him, regardless of not knowing if he was alive, or where he was at all.

"You should have kept your mouth shut."

The anger slipped out, falling past her normally carefully crafted control, as it bubbled over. It was pretending as well. She wasn't angry. Calla was frightened.

She was still learning how to be okay with them being friends. This complicated her already irrational thinking.

The thoughts were already beating her up inside. They left gashes, and bruises, as she tried to figure out how she was going to act around him from now on. It made her cringe, the idea that he liked her like that. She wasn't certain she'd be able to act like how they used to. She'd probably be meaner, or just plain rude and not talk to him, that sounded like the course of action she would take, and that brought on a lash of pain. Silence would mean that there was no conversation. There would be no way for him to fall into any kind of deeper liking for her if they just simply stopped interacting.

A part of her shied away from this course of action. The part that had started to accept him as a friend. Calla didn't want to go back into that loneliness, where there was only herself, and Maverick, knowing that was the worst choice she could make for them.

She wanted to be a good mom. To be a good friend. That dark part inside of her refused to let it be easy. The feral part of her raged at the idea, not finding the action safe at all, and not for the first time did Calla think that staying outside the walls, drifting as if she was one of the sick, had been far easier than this.

That awkward, uncomfortable feeling nagged at her, dragging her down, as she felt the heavy sinking sensation of knowing that there would be yet another person she was going to have to actively avoid. In general, she only ever sought out Martinez for any actual conversation, and lately, she had begun to do the same with Philip, growing somewhat at ease with their roles toward one another, but that had been pulled out from underneath her.

Calla knew she shouldn't have allowed anyone to ease their way past her defenses.

It only ever brought trouble.

This could only cause issues for her in the future.

Speeding up, Calla decided to ditch the man she had been walking with, her thoughts a raging mess, as she decided to lock Maverick and herself up in her apartment for the night.

From behind her she thought she had heard Martinez mutter, "I'm screwed."

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

As promised Calla had begun to avoid Philip as much as possible, which was hard to do, as she worked closely with the man. It tugged her in so many different directions emotionally, as she had begun to do the same to Martinez, as well, trying to sort everything out, before confronting them, or herself. Fortunately, he spent most of his day disappearing to do secret matters with that guy Milton, talking with the men who went outside the walls, and occasionally going with them. It meant that they only had a few moments where they would be inside his office, discussing any issues the people were having, or upcoming events.

Every time she felt like her skin would begin to crawl, she was hyper-aware of him and wished to just leave almost immediately. It was probably highly unfair of her. It wasn't like he treated her any differently, and if Martinez hadn't said anything to her, Calla would never have suspected him of feeling anything toward her except curiosity and amusement.

That window of deniability had been utterly ruined.

For the first two days, Calla suspected that he wasn't aware of any change within her. She spoke less, yes, but Calla hardly ever volunteered to speak first. It was only recently that she had begun to speak more freely, and longer, in his presence, and so, at first, he just assumed it was Calla being Calla. She was short, brash, and rude, especially toward anything that made her feel uncomfortable, but he had begun to catch onto her inability to be near him, which wasn't normal.

Not like this.

Calla finished telling him what a few of the families had asked for, things for their children, and necessities that had begun to grow scarce in the inventory that was given out weekly to everyone from the stockpile in a small warehouse. Typically, she wouldn't stick around, but with the speed at which she tried to escape, the way her face pinched, and the way she had spoken to him during their debriefing, Philip knew something was wrong.

Calla was better at hiding her emotions from him. It was eerie and spoke of how startled she was that he could.

"Have I done something to offend you?" he asked before she could leave. "More than usual I mean." That annoyingly charming smile slipped back onto his face. The one that she had now become unhappily aware that was never shared with anyone else. It was a smile that only appeared in her presence, and Calla didn't like that knowledge.

"No."

It was just your emotions that needed to be shoved into a deep dark corner of your mind and forgotten.

The thought was spiteful and rude, and Calla felt herself feeling a little bit of regret over it.

"You've been especially cold these last few days."

"We're not friends. I warned you of that."

"So, I have done something."

Eyes setting into a glare, hands shaking with nerves, and anger, Calla twisted around to pin him with it.

She should stop here. Turn around, and walk away, because in control Calla had fled the building, and emotional Calla was in charge. Emotional Calla had been tarnished by the more feral part of her, twisted, and no longer calling shots that were remotely okay.

"How could you go and have feelings for me? Knowing that I'm emotionally and physically unavailable." She was accusing him as if he sought out these emotions, purposefully, and though she knew logically, that it was wrong of her to feel this way, Calla hadn't been known to be very logical since the end of the world crashed down around her.

Calla was walking a very thin line.

She should leave.

Really, she should.

Except her feet stay planted.

Philip blinked.

Slowly.

Carefully.

His arms uncrossed, deliberately, moving to fall at his side, all in a way that wouldn't startle her, in a way that kept him in control of the emotions that whipped out at the sudden accusation. He was far more in control of himself than Calla was.

Calla watched as he shifted his weight. He blinked again, this time in surprise, and confusion flickered to life in the darkness of his eyes. He licked his lips as the unsteadiness of being caught wracked through his form before Philip suddenly walked toward her, only stopping when she took a step back from him. He hadn't even made it far. Just a step or two, but Calla didn't want him any closer to her, and he sensed that.

Logically Calla would have known he hadn't meant anything by it, but running on instinct Calla took everything as a threat.

"Do you think I did it on purpose?"

A harsh little laugh huffed from his lips. It prickled at her. Setting her on edge as she continued to glare at him.

"Do you like disappointment?" The words spilled from her lips before she could stop them. She should have just turned around, walked out of his office, down to the stairs, and out of the building. Calla should have picked Maverick up early, taken him to that apartment, and hidden themselves away. She still could. If only she could get her mind to work, and her body to follow.

Instead, she felt the urge to hold her ground, to bare her teeth, and make sure this man knew she wasn't available. To forget about her, and finally, leave her alone.

Calla had lived out in the wild for a little too long.

She didn't choose the safe option.

"It's not like I get my kicks going around, and finding women who don't want me," he snarled back at her. Calla had never seen this version of Philip before.

Annoyed.

Yes.

Angry.

No.

She was always the one that got angry as he stood there, smiling, amused by the buttons he could push.

It allowed a peek inside of him, the side of him that he hid from everyone, and Calla wasn't certain it was a side she ever wanted to see again. This was not Philip; he had allowed her to see in the past. This was someone entirely new, different, and her instincts screamed at her that he was more dangerous than she had given him credit.

"You're married, taken, a fact that you've made abundantly clear about, Calla. I had no plans of acting on these emotions. Simply being your friend was enough."

Something flashed in the depths of his eyes.

Lies.

It wasn't enough.

Calla didn't like that look.

He was just fooling himself but letting her know that to let that be known would mean Calla removing herself completely from him. Philip wasn't willing to let that happen. So, these dinners, being her friend, and gaining her trust, would all have to be enough.

Calla could feel something spark inside of herself, that nagging sensation, it burned, and tugged at her, as the dark corners of her mind took control over. Martinez may have been right, before the end of the world, maybe Calla could have given Philip the benefit of the doubt, and believed that he could get over his crush, but it wasn't like the world before. Calla would never have allowed herself to hang around with a man that had feelings for her. It would have been disrespectful to Daryl, and she still felt that way now, even being in the dark on whether he was alive or not, it didn't make a difference to her.

There would be distance put between herself and Philip. Perhaps she shouldn't have snapped at him, and accused him of falling for her on purpose, but it didn't change what she had to do in the end.

He may have never tried anything, or even let his feelings be known, but Calla knew now, and there was no pretending to be ignorant.

She could see the look in his eyes that he knew what she was about to do, there was panic, and something darker, angrier, in the depths of his eyes. He wasn't going to like what she had to say.

It only made her believe in the fact that what she was about to do was right.

A man, with a look like that, would never have been just okay with being friends.

There was nothing left for her to give. Her heart belonged to another, and it always would. It was best to throw away whatever friendship she could have had with Philip before he did something that he wouldn't be able to take back.

Old Calla felt far away, untouchable most days, but right now, in this moment, Calla knew this would have been something she would have done before. Daryl wouldn't have even had to ask her.

They never had problems with friends, most of those they knew were couples anyhow, but there was no doubt in Calla's mind that Daryl would have done the exact same thing.

Pursing her lips, battling for control over her emotions, Calla began to feel confidence tugging at her stomach. Being a normal human was hard, sometimes it was easier to bare your teeth, and snap at people until they backed away, but that never seemed to work with Philip. He didn't respond in kind, but it didn't set him on edge, and he always took it with a smile. Calla would need to take a different approach to him.

She watched his body language regardless.

"Being my friend?" She shook her head. It wouldn't pain her exactly to say this. They hadn't grown that close, but Calla would be wrong if she said it wasn't a slight disappointment in the friendship that could have been formed. He had always been kind to Maverick, making the boy happy, and giving him things to be excited about. He could have been a good friend. "I'm sorry, but I just don't see that being able to happen."

Calla reaffirmed it in her mind, that she had made the right decision when Philip tensed more, his body wound tightly, as something hot, and filled with hatred flashed across his eyes. There was an anger like none Calla had ever witnessed before. It set her on edge. She felt herself instinctively draw back her lips, flashing teeth, as that part of her that lived in the wilderness told her to show no fear, even when it nagged at the back of her mind, and could be seen in the slight shake of her hands.

"You find out my feelings and then you're going to punish me for it?" Philip snapped, his hand striking out, without a single thought, across his desk, knocking a mug that had been on the edge, as it clattered against the floor, and with a sharp sound broke into pieces. Calla barely contained the flinch that had tried to break free. She couldn't show her fear. She wouldn't. "I've been nothing but good to you, and to that boy of yours, you didn't even know how I felt, because I knew you wouldn't like it. It wasn't even on your radar when those harpies started gossipin' about what they could see. Fucking Martinez had to have said something, he's the only one you would have listened to, I know it. Why can't you just keep pretending and go back to the way it was."

The need, a desperate urge, inside her body, told Calla to take a step back, to move for the door, but another part of her told her to stay still, and to not move. The part that told her not to move won out.

She watched the way Philip eyed her. Every movement was immediately latched onto and she was uncertain of what he would try to do in this state he had been worked up in. It would have been better for her to stay quiet, to not talk, and have him tell her to leave, but that part of her that couldn't back down flare up.

"I can't just pretend that I don't see it! I won't do that to Daryl. We can't be friends anymore. No more weekly dinners. No more trying to get me to come over for coffee before work." She had never taken him up on those offers but he had persistently kept them up. "We only talk when my work here makes it that way."

The anger sparked out, drowning the dark colors of his eyes, making them almost black, as a desperation rolled in.

That was just as dangerous as anger.

Calla wanted to leave.

She didn't want to be here anymore.

"Come on, Calla. You can trust me. These feelings will go away. They'll fade, it's just I haven't met someone as interesting as you in a long time, that's all."

Trust was asking a lot from a woman like Calla. She ran on survival. It fueled her. Kept her going. There was no one in this world she trusted outside of Daryl, and he wasn't here right now. Maybe, if she ran into Merle, she would trust him. Trust in the knowledge that as his kin, the woman his brother took as his own, he'd do right by her. Protect her. But this man standing in front of her, going from foaming at the mouth, to meek, docile, still strung up like a wild animal that was about to lash out again, would never have her trust. Perhaps it would tear her apart from the inside out, and cause her to fail Maverick, something she was already afraid of having done, and she knew that you had to trust in people, or you'd lose an important part of oneself, but Calla didn't care. Let the darker side of herself win.

At least she knew she would be alive.

Her son wouldn't be dead.

Calla would never make a mistake when it came to another human being if she never let them in. If she died, or Maverick, then it would have been by her own stupid, and selfish decisions. Not by someone else taking that decision away from her.

She was not weak.

This line would be drawn very clear between them.

Philip would just have to deal.

"If you can't respect my decision then I'm going to have to politely remove myself from this job and go somewhere else."

She thought maybe he would lash out again. His hands had curled into fists but instead of saying, or doing anything more, all Philip did was nod.

Only then did Calla take a step back.

Then another.

And another, before she was suddenly at the door, pushing it open, and disappearing behind it, never having shown him her back the entire time. Whatever trust he had started to gain from her was crumpled, left stomped on the floor after that display from inside.

Calla wanted nothing more than to turn around, and flee, to grab Maverick, and leave Woodbury, but she still wasn't completely okay. She was still weak, less than as the days go by, but until she was certain that there would be no falling back into sickness like before Calla wouldn't risk it.

Not right now.