So the Idea of the lab comes from the show. Crédit is given to Eugene.

Season 6, "JSS"

Eugene shared his opinions on the expansion of Alexandria, when he explained to Tara how he felt about the plan to make the largest new building in the town a church. "It hams my biscuits is all," he said. "Going by cubic feet, the biggest building in the expansion, and we're gonna waste it on a church. Take out the benches, that could be a lab, a machine shop, very least a sweet-ass game room. Walled-in real estate is at a premium here. Thumpers just shouldn't get dibs."

anywhoo, enjoy!

You're fighting me off like a firefighter
So tell me why you still get burned
You say you're not, but you're still a liar
'Cause I'm the one that you run to first

Every time, yeah
Why do you try to deny it
When you show up every night
And tell me that you want me but it's complicated
So complicated

When it hurts but it hurts so good

Hurt So Good by Astrid S

Chapter 48 - Whirlwind

You sit on the cold cement ground, with a motorcycle anchored on a U-shaped lift in front of you. The air hangs heavy with the distinct scents of metal and oil, while across from you, Daryl meticulously tinkers with the bike, his fingers skillfully navigating its inner workings. Your once-empty garage is now teeming with an array of bike parts that Daryl had relocated from Aaron's garage.

It has been two days since Daryl landed a job. After he left the party, somehow, he ended up having dinner at Aaron's house, where Aaron asked him to be one of Alexandria's recruiters. Although your gut is tightly coiled at the idea, you can tell he is genuinely happy about it.

Your gaze lingers on his furrowed brows, observing the concentration etched upon his face as he works with the intricate wires. A soft smile graces your lips, concealing the inner turmoil of emotions swirling within you. Sometimes, you forget what kind of man Daryl is, his ability to inspire you, and then he goes and does something that takes your breath away.

Earlier this morning, you ventured out for a shooting "practice" session with Carol, Daryl, and Rick beyond the confines of Alexandria's walls. As you all huddled deep within the woods, Carol discreetly produces the handguns that were previously stolen, intending to hand them over to Rick and Daryl. In the midst of your plotting and strategizing, Daryl surprisingly declined the weapon, opting to "try" instead. The intense love you felt at that moment was an eye-opener because you knew he meant it too.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted as you catch a movement in your peripheral vision, accompanied by a bang of noise. You turn to see Jamie, hastily putting on his shoes in front of the open garage. At the same time, he slips on his black shirt and hurries across the street towards a parked truck. You tilt your head to catch a glimpse of Rosita, who peeks her head out of the open hood to greet him. You shake your head, knowing she had been out there long before you even woke up.

"Hey, did ya hear what I just said?" Daryl interjects, snapping his fingers to capture your attention.

"Hmm?" you respond with a soft hum, turning your gaze towards him.

"Damn, you're sleepin' on the job," he remarks, feigning annoyance. "I asked ya to pass me the 32mm wrench."

"Um, don't even try to act like you're paying me for this, okay? It's, like, totally hard work!" you retort, matching his scoffs as you glance over at the open toolbox beside you.

"Ain't it you who volunteered for this, instead of Merle," he adds, raising an eyebrow. "Or did ya forget that part?"

"Hmph, Merle wishes he could handle this job as well as I do," you assert confidently, handing him the wrench. Before he has a chance to look down, you playfully tug your shirt lower, teasing him with a glimpse of your cleavage. "Now, that's what I call high-quality service," you taunt, giving your bosom an extra lift, a mischievous laughter barely contained on your lips.

You can't help but laugh at the expression as his gaze briefly lingers on your cleavage. Deep down, you know you don't have it in you even if he were to take you up on your playful offer, as your inner thighs still ache from last night's activities. The power had gone out last night, something related to the solar grid, as you were informed earlier by one of the ladies this morning. But you didn't mind. In fact, it was an exhilarating experience, making love in complete darkness, relying solely on his voice and touch to navigate the depths of intimacy.

Daryl chuckles, muttering "goofy" under his breath, before diverting his attention back to the motorcycle. The atmosphere in the garage settles into a comfortable silence again as you continue to watch him, your legs tucked neatly beneath you.

"So, you gonna tell me why ya been lookin' constipated all mornin'?" Daryl inquires, his attention still focused on his task without looking up.

You playfully gasp, placing a hand over your heart, "Constipated? Is this how you treat your wife?" You tease, attempting to lighten the mood, unwilling to face what he is truly asking you. When you notice he's not taking the bait, you let out a sigh. "Okay, fine... I'm worried," you confess, the tightness in your stomach returning with full force. "We promised each other we won't separate. I go where you go, remember? Now this job takes you out there alone."

"I ain't alone," he responds, pulling back to look at you directly. "Aaron's there with me, and we ain't separatin'. I know where you are," he says reassuringly, but you look away. You have no confidence in Aaron's ability to keep Daryl safe. In fact, you worry the other way around. After all, you remember how Aaron walked into that barn when he first introduced himself to the group, all big smiles, putting himself at total risk.

"Hey, there ain't nothin' in this world that can keep me away from comin' back to you, ya hear? Nothin' at all." Daryl asks, reaching over to grasp your chin and gently turn your face to meet his gaze.

"I know, but what if something happens to you out there, Daryl? What if you need me? How would I even know where you are? What if you don't make it back?" You pour out your anxieties, fear, and worry all in one breath.

"Hey, hey, don't go thinkin' like that. I'll be just fine, sweetheart," Daryl consoles, setting aside his tools to fully focus on you. "Ya know, this here's a chance for me to do somethin' worthwhile. All them houses and folks in this place, it's messin' with my head… Feels like I'm trapped, all caged in," he adds, his voice soft as he pleads with you to understand.

But the "what ifs" continue to consume your mind, overshadowing his words. "Daryl," you whisper, your eyes welling up with tears. He may be skilled out there, but he's not invincible.

"Look, I didn't wanna get your hopes up, but I spotted some radios in the storage room. Was gonna tell ya sooner, but I wanna make sure they're in workin' order, so I'll double-check with Eugene first," he reveals, tilting his head to catch your downcast gaze. "I'll keep you in the loop every step of the journey. You won't have to wonder where I am 'cause you'll know for sure."

"Hmmm, okay," you respond with a sigh, attempting to hold onto the conviction in his voice.

"Aw, come on now, sweetheart, don't do this to me," he pleads as he notices the tears hanging on your lashes. As if on cue, your tears begin to fall. He lets out a deep sigh, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you close to him. Your nails dig into his back as you anchor yourself to this moment, placing your trust in his skills. "Don't cry over things that ain't even happened. I'll be alright, you'll see," he whispers as you pull back.

You know that crying won't help, and the last thing you want is to break down right before he has to leave. He needs you to be strong. "Alright, alright, let's get back to work," you say, bringing the back of your hand to wipe away your tears, mustering a smile for him. "You know, the last time I rode a bike was with you," you reminisce, thinking back to over fifteen years ago. "Maybe you'll take me on a ride as a reward for my services," you suggest, trying to inject some lightheartedness into the conversation.

Daryl's expression softens, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Deal," he says, his voice filled with genuine affection. "Now we just gotta get this piece of shit to work," Daryl mutters, diverting his attention back to the vehicle next to him. "Let me get the Dog bone," he says, extending his hand, and you glance down at the toolbox, momentarily perplexed.

"That one, with the weird head," he clarifies when he notices your hand hovering uncertainly. You pick up a tool that indeed resembles the outline of a dog bone.

As you lift your gaze to hand it to him, he lets out a chuckle. "How in the hell did ya manage to get grease on your face?" he asks, bringing his thumb to wipe your chin. "You ain't done a damn thing except hand me tools."

"You know what? All I've heard since we've been out here is criticism, and more criticism," you retort, raising your finger in an irritated manner. "Have some respect, okay? Being the hot assistant is a very challenging job—hey, don't put your saliva on my face!" you swat his fingers away when he attempts to wet his thumb to clean your face.

"Really, goofy? We're talkin' 'bout saliva now?" he scoffs, pushing his slightly moistened finger to wipe your face anyway. "You, who give me a damn shower every mornin' with your drool."

You gasp, playfully taken aback. "Oh, we're going there, hah, digging deep," you respond with a hint of mischief in your voice, as you let out a chuckle.

"Hey, Chica," Jamie calls out as he jogs towards Rosita, hastily forcing his arm through his shirt. He had planned to wake up earlier, keeping the promise he made to her, but he accidentally ended up oversleeping. Rosita, standing next to a truck parked between their two houses, looks up from under the open hood as Jamie approaches. "You started without me? I thought I told you I was going to help you," he says, shooting her a bright smile once he reaches her side, his gaze shifting down towards the open hood.

She looks up at his towering form, catching sight of his infectious smile, and returns it with a small one of her own. Jamie always has a way of making her smile, even when he ends up acting like a fool around her.

"I couldn't sleep, so I figured I might as well get started," she explains, watching him poke around the truck. "I'm almost done, and I even checked on the radiator too."

The truck they are working on is an old vehicle with impressive mileage that they use for scavenging, but in the past few weeks, it has been giving them trouble. So, Rosita offered her mechanical skills to help get it back on track.

"What happened to your hand?" Jamie questions, snapping back to the present moment as he gently grasps her small hand in his, his eyes focused on the white gauze wrapped around her palm, now smudged with oil and grease. His own hand, much larger than hers, moves with care as he slowly unties and peels back the cover. "Oh, damn, that looks painful as hell," he remarks, observing the blister surrounded by a reddened mark.

"I accidentally burned myself on the radiator while trying to pull the hose," Rosita explains, her gaze shifting downwards, noticing the built-up fluid that has seeped onto the cover.

"And no one gave you a hand with it? Where the fuck is Abe?" Jamie hisses, scanning the surroundings for the absent ginger-haired soldier. Not spotting him, he brings her hand closer to his face, his thumb gently gliding over the red mark without touching the angry center.

"It's fine, I've dealt with this before. I don't need his help," Rosita replies, looking at his concerned face and furrowed brows. Her own brows arch slightly as she notices the flex of muscles in his forearm, as if he is struggling to restrain himself.

"Of course, you've got it handled. It's just..." he trails off, letting out a sigh and releasing her hand. She can sense the sudden shift in his mood and the tension that seems to engulf his body. He turns towards the car, leaning against the open hood, attempting to redirect his attention back to the vehicle.

"Hey," she says, lightly tapping his side and offering him a small smile. "I'm good, it's just a burn."

He glances at her, his smile returning, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Can I get a bit personal with you for a sec?" he questions, his voice softening as he turns his body fully towards her again. She hums in acknowledgment and nods.

"What do you see in Abe? I mean, he's a cool dude and all, but he doesn't really seem to appreciate what he's got with you."

"Well, it's complicated," she starts, leaning against the truck beside him. "He's just a little distant sometimes because he's been through a lot," she explains, offering an excuse she has often repeated to herself. "He had a wife and two kids, you know... he lost them to this messed up world."

"Nah, I don't know. Everyone's been through some serious stuff, and everyone's had their fair share of losin' someone," Jamie responds, taking a step closer to her. His voice grows firmer, his face serious. "He's damn lucky to have found someone like you in a world like this, and he ain't doin' everything he can to be the man you need."

Rosita huffs, rolling her eyes in response. "Pfft, and what? You'll be that man for me?" she retorts, her defense mechanism triggered. "Is that where you're heading with all this constant flirting, carrying my bags, making jokes… following me around like a lost puppy?" Her tone carries a heavy attitude as she steps right into his personal space. "Let me tell you somethin', James Carter, I don't need a man. I've never needed one."

Instead of backing down as she expects, Jamie does something that completely catches her off guard. "Hey, come on, don't take it like that. You know I don't mean it that way, and I know you don't mean that shit either, alright?" he says, taking hold of her unburned hand and pressing her small fingers gently against his chest. She can feel the softness in his voice and the rapid thumping of his heartbeat.

In that tender tone, he continues, "I know you don't need a man, and that's what I dig about you. You're so strong, one of the fiercest girls I've ever met—total badass. But you ain't just tough, you're also mad smart, funny, kind, and a total knockout inside and out." There is a pause, as if he is mustering up the courage to continue.

"I'm a man enough to admit, I'm kinda jealous of Abe 'cause he's got you, and it feels like he ain't even puttin' in the effort. 'Cause if you were my girl, you know I would be your ride or die, no doubt about it." Men have always told her she is beautiful or that she has a nice body, but no one has ever looked at her quite like this, with Jamie's big brown eyes filled with such sincerity and his heart beating so palpably in her palm.

Feeling a sudden surge of emotions, she yanks her hand back as if she has been burned again. "I don't know who you think you are, but you don't get to question my relationship, alright?" she exclaims, stepping back. "You don't know anything about us, and the things we've been through, the things we survived in this world side by side." Her voice carries a hint of bitterness. "Besides, there's no such thing as 'ride or die.' That's not real. It's just some shit people say." She is a realist, and she has experienced the hollowness of words spoken by the men she has dated—none of them have truly meant what they said when it mattered.

"Nah, that ain't the truth. I've seen it with my own eyes," Jamie counters, stepping forward as she backs up. "Come, check it out for yourself if you like," he says, nudging his head past the truck's bed. Rosita's body tenses, but she follows as he gently guides her a few steps, his large warm hand on her back leading the way. He points across the street to an open garage.

There, she sees their female doctor sitting on the floor, her legs folded across her husband, a motorcycle between them as Daryl tinkers with it. She hands him tools from his toolbox with a laugh, and Daryl says something, reaching over to wipe grease off her face. "You see the way he looks at her," Jamie speaks softly, standing right behind Rosita, his head low as he speaks close to her ear. "He'd rather burn alive than let anything happen to her."

She tilts her head, trying to catch a glimpse of Jamie's face. "Don't you want that?" he continues. "Someone who's down to ride like that for you? Someone who's got your back, no matter what comes their way? A person who's all in, committed, devoted, and loyal to you?" Rosita doesn't say anything but glances back at the couple across the street.

She had always thought they were such an odd couple, and even though they rarely displayed physical affection in front of others, she could see it in the way they looked at each other—always freakishly intense.

"Can you imagine putting all your trust in someone, showin' 'em the real, raw side of you – even the ugly parts – yet they love you unconditionally?" Jamie's voice cuts through her thoughts, his breath brushing against her neck. "That shit is real, and I want that. You just gotta find the right person, and it'll all click, ya know?" he says, backing away from her.

She turns to see his bright smile back on his face. "I'm sorry, I ain't tryin' to disrespect or doubt your relationship," he says with a shrug. "I just had to say my piece," he adds, looking at her warmly. With that, he turns and walks away, leaving her flabbergasted.

But he only takes a few steps before he turns, walking backward. "Mark my words, Rosita Espinosa. One of these days, I'm gonna come through and sweep you off your feet. Just you wait and see!" he calls out with a laugh and a wink. She rolls her eyes, biting her bottom lip to keep back the smile, watching him skip back to his home.

As you walk alongside Eugene, his excited rambling fades into the background as your instincts kick into high alert. Your attention is elsewhere, and your gaze wanders absentmindedly, your senses on haywire. Perhaps the anxiety of Daryl leaving has put you on edge, but you can't shake it off.

"I must confess, I find it rather surprising that nobody else seemed to consider it," Eugene continues his monologue, but his words barely register in your mind. "I mean, truth be told, it was right there, right in front of our very noses the entire time. It's a classic case of missing the forest for the trees, if you ask me."

You offer a noncommittal hum, your thoughts consumed by a nagging feeling that you are being followed—a faint prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the same feeling you had when you were hunted by the Claimer.

It happened not long after you left your house. Eugene had urgently banged on your door, demanding that you follow him to show you the potential lab he had discovered. Perhaps it's the trauma that lingers within you, but you can't help but feel a wave of impending danger wash over you, as if your body is recalling the absolute terror of leading the Claimer into that abandoned house. Your hand instinctively moves to the wrist blade, shivers running down your spine.

"It was no easy feat, mind you," Eugene's monotone voice persists, "but I put my noggin to work, scoured the land, and voila! Now, I don't know if you've taken a gander at the floor plan for this grand expansion, but let me tell ya, based on the sheer cubic feet we're dealing with, dedicating all that space to a church might just end up being a squandered opportunity."

Once again, you respond with a quiet hum, your focus shifting to the approaching turn. Your heart thumps rapidly in your chest as you prepare yourself. The moment you turn between the houses onto the main driveway, you abruptly stop, yanking Eugene along with you.

"Take out the benches, and that could be a lab, a machine shop, or at the very least, a sweet-ass game room—" The sudden motion startles him, and he nearly loses his balance, his sentence cut short. Swiftly, you pull him back against the cold brick wall, pressing a finger against your lips to signal silence, preventing any protests from escaping his mouth.

You motion for him to stay put, and he watches you, with gaping mouth and wide eyes. For a moment, you forget that you are within the safety of Alexandria's walls as you wait, tension coursing through your body. Time seems to stretch, your senses heightened.

A few seconds pass, and then you hear it—a faint rustle of footsteps echoing through the narrow passage. You tense, your body poised, ready for the pursuer to reveal themselves, prepared to defend yourself and Eugene if necessary.

Just as the figure emerges from around the corner, their steps faltering, your instincts kick in, and you react without hesitation. Months of training with Charles flood your mind, and with practiced movement, you surge forward, slamming the person against the wall. Their breath catches in surprise, followed by a piercing feminine scream. In the same instant, you smack your wrist to your thigh holster, causing your wrist blade to extend out with a sharp screech.

Before you stands a young woman, her round cheeks and innocent eyes now wide with a mix of surprise and fear. It becomes evident that she had believed herself to be discreet, judging by the sheer terror etched across her face.

"Who the hell are you, and why are you following me?" you demand firmly, your voice laced with authority, your knife pressed against her neck. Your grip tightens on her shirt as you lean your forearm into her, applying pressure.

The woman gasps for breath, her voice trembling as she stammers out an explanation. "I'm-oh god-I-I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean-I'm Denise- Denise Cloyd. I didn't mean to follow you. I was just- oh god, please don't hurt me-I-I..." Her breath becomes increasingly labored, gasping for air as her eyes dart to the blade positioned just beneath her chin.

"Spit it out, or I'm going to fucking gouge your eyes out," you hiss, pushing forward with an intense pressure.

"I-I-I-oh my god-I-please don't-I can't b-breathe…I-I c-can't… I-I oh," Denise stammers, her body trembling uncontrollably. Panic etches deep lines on her face as she struggles to speak through her labored breaths. It dawns on you that she is having a panic attack, as her dilated eyes meet yours.

In that moment, your own fears momentarily recede, taken aback by the sheer distress on her face. Without hesitation, you release your grip and take a step back, giving the young woman in front of you some space to collect herself. Eugene, still stunned, watches the scene unfold with wide-eyed concern.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," you say gently, your voice soft and reassuring, your blade sliding back into its sheet. "Take a deep breath. I'm not going to hurt you, alright? You're safe now."

The young woman's round cheeks flush with color, her eyes welling up with tears. She begins to tap her thighs, utilizing a breathing technique you recognize. As you watch, it becomes evident that this is not her first experience with a panic attack.

"I'm s-sorry... I didn't mean to follow you. I was just... c-curious. I heard about the cure... and I saw you two walking..." she stammers, her breathing gradually returning to a more steady rhythm.

"It's alright, Denise," you assure her, your own heartbeat returning to a normal rate. "I understand your curiosity. But sneaking up on people like that can be dangerous, especially in these times."

She nods, her gaze to the ground. "I know, I'm sorry. I d-didn't think it through," she says, sniffling and wiping away a tear from her cheek. "I'm a d-doctor too...well, sort of… and I... I k-kinda wanted to prove myself. I wanted to be useful, to contribute."

Your eyebrows raise in genuine interest. "You're a doctor?" you inquire, intrigued by the possibilities her skills could offer.

Denise hesitates, slowly looking up at you through her lashes. "Yes… no… kinda... I never started my residency...but I've finished medical school…" Her voice trails off, and she appears to be gathering the courage to share more. "Um… If you need help... I could... you know... help. If you'd like... I don't have much to offer, but, you know," she adds, dropping her gaze again and fidgeting with the dirt beneath her feet.

Eugene, who had been observing the exchange, chimes in with his usual peculiar manner of speaking. "Dos is always better than uno, if I may say so myself."

You give Eugene a sidelong glance before turning your attention back to Denise. A small sigh escapes your lips as you observe her blushing cheeks, her fingers twiddling her shirt in nervous anticipation, waiting to hear your response. You've seen this look on another young lady before, and you can't help but your mind conjures up a scene, a moment in the prison—Beth standing before you, twiddling her fingers. She had acted just like this around you, nervous and shy, as she looked up at you under her lashes. Knowing what you know now and seeing it again, it's easy to recognize the signs. Beth wanted you to mentor her because she admired you from afar.

"Alright," you say, your eyes softening as you take in Denise's sincere offer. Perhaps for Denise, who you've seen exhibit serious anxiety, this might be similar. "If you want to help, then come on."

Denise looks up at you in surprise, her eyes widening. "Right now?" she asks, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

You nod with a small smile. "Yes, right now. Come on, Eugene, lead the way."

Eugene, catching the shift in momentum, steps forward. "Lead the way I shall. New recruit Denise, don't fall behind," he commands, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing as he starts to march, his long strides matched with an unmistakable spring in his step.

As you walk, Denise trailing behind you, Eugene fills the air with his characteristic ramblings, discussing the potential modifications he has in mind for the church. His words are a mix of scientific jargon and wild imagination, but you can see the genuine passion radiating from him.

The church. That's Eugene's idea—to transform the newly built church into a lab. "It truly hammers my biscuit to the core when I see those thumpers getting dibs before science," he remarks.

You hum in agreement as you stand on the steps of the white building situated at the heart of the community. You definitely agree with Eugene's idea. This could definitely work.

Just then, you notice Reg and Noah making their way toward you. "I went ahead and set up the meeting," Eugene says, as he raises his hand to return Reg's friendly wave. Despite his bad leg, Noah does his best to keep up with the architect's enthusiastic steps, clutching a notebook in his hand while Reg appears to be engaged in conversation with him.

"I suppose it's only fair that you extend me the same gesture as you did to our fresh-faced recruit," Eugene continues, nudging his head toward Denise, his tone earnest. "I recognize full well that I'm alive and standing here today because of the sacrifices made by countless brave souls, while all I did was unravel a top-shelf lie. Now, I may not hold a medical degree, but as a chemistry teacher, I sure know my way around a laboratory. I've got a solid grasp on the ins and outs of scientific experimentation, and I reckon that counts for something."

'What a weird day,' you think as you listen, first Denise, and now Eugene volunteering, literally seeing the hope for the cure seeded in people's thoughts. But you understand what he is asking, wanting to be a part of what you're building because his lie about the cure led to the deaths of eight people who believed in him. The weight of that knowledge must linger in his mind, and perhaps he must think, if he assists in your cure, then their deaths won't be in vain. "Eugene…"

Eugene turns fully towards you, his posture rigid, and you can see the seriousness etched on his face. "My old man was an engineer, a real whiz in his field," he begins, his voice filled with conviction. "He passed down every bit of knowledge he had to me, teaching me the ropes from the ground up. And let me tell you, I'm more than ready and willing to lend a hand in putting this lab together, or anywhere else you might require my expertise and know-how. I say, it's a no-brainer to have me on board."

You know that Eugene is knowledgeable and clever enough to figure out what he doesn't know. Besides, who are you to stand in someone else's personal growth?

So, you just smile and nod.

"Hello, everyone!" Reg greets cheerfully as he comes to a stop in front of you. "This is so exciting, hah," he says with a laugh.

"Is your Walkie fully charged?" you ask for what feels like the hundredth time, automatically reaching for the one strapped to your hip.

Daryl hums from his seat on the motorcycle, his hands busy slipping on fingerless gloves as he waits in front of Aaron's house, ready for their first trip together.

"I'll keep my Walkie on at all times," you continue. "You just need to check in with me once in the morning and once at night," you tell him.

"Yep, got it. Once in the mornin', once at night.," Daryl says, glancing at your furrowed brow as you hover nearby. You can't help the anxiety that grips you. While Daryl has been on runs before, this is a new area, and it will be the first time you're separating after finally finding each other again.

"Oh, and don't tell me your location unless you need me to come and get you," you add, a sudden concern for potential danger crossing your mind. "Just in case someone else is listening."

Daryl hums again, acknowledging your request. You step closer and press your hand to his cheek, turning his face toward you. Him sitting on the bike puts you at eye level with each other.

"I won't be able to call you in case you're near walkers or whatever, so you have to make sure to call me," you insist, your eyes stern. "If you don't, then I'm going to assume you're in danger, and we'll come out with backup."

"Sweetheart, I got it," he reassures you, his hand squeezing your wrist. "Don'tcha worry, everything's gonna be just fine. We'll be back before ya even realize we're gone. "

"I doubt it," you sigh. "Three days is a long time." Daryl opens his mouth to say something, but you are interrupted by Aaron's voice as his garage door opens and he steps out.

"Hey Alice," Aaron greets with a big smile. "You're here to see us off?"

"Hey Aaron, how are you doing?" you greet him as he walks closer to you.

"I should be asking you that," he says with a shake of his head, his smile turning bashful. "I've been meaning to come check on you, see how you're settling, but I thought I would give you some breathing space, considering how everyone is flocking to you."

As if remembering something, his face brightens up. "Oh, I should probably warn you that Eric is really hoping to invite you over for dinner. I just thought I'd give you a heads up in advance."

You force yourself to laugh as you glance at Daryl, who is looking at you with a raised eyebrow, likely reading your body language better than Aaron. "Are ya ready, man?" Daryl asks Aaron, but before he can answer, it's your turn to intervene.

"Umm, listen," you begin, stepping closer to Aaron. "Do you mind if I have a moment of your time in private?" You ask, your mind already set on the conversation you'll need to have with him.

"Yeah, sure," Aaron says, glancing from you to Daryl. With a smile, you press your hand on his back and guide him back into the garage. As you walk, Aaron awkwardly glances back at Daryl again, and although you don't, you can feel your husband's curious eyes on you both.

"Is everything alright? Do you need anything?" Aaron asks the moment you're inside his garage, where you see a small sedan parked, likely the car he'll be taking on the trip.

"Nah, everything is fine," you say, your eyes wandering around his garage space. "I just thought I'd give you some parting words."

There is a pause as he waits, his eyes watching you glide around.

"Lupo travestito da pecora," you say as you come to a stop, your eyes gliding across countless license plates from all over the states hanging on a wall. "It's Italian, and it means 'a wolf in sheep's clothing,' but my father used to swap the words and say 'leone vestito da pecora,' which means 'a lion in sheep's clothing.'" Your voice is casual as it echoes around you.

"Pardon me?" Aaron asks, confused.

"Growing up, chess and puzzles were a big thing in our household," you say, turning from the wall to face him. "So when I got to college, I became really good at mapping the human nervous system because it was like a complex puzzle."

Your steps are slow and predatory as you walk toward him. "For example, the sciatic nerve is the largest nerve in the body and runs from the lower back down to the legs." Your voice drops as you stand before him, looking up into his green eyes. "Science says the perception of pain can vary from person to person, but I beg to differ."

"What are you—" he begins, but there is a huff of air as you shove your hand into his side. He steps back in surprise, but you step with him, your hand moving deeper until it touches his spine.

"It's located right here," you whisper, your faces so close that your chest almost touches his. "Do not let my sheep's clothes confuse you, Aaron. I am not Rick. I will not hesitate, and I will not blink." Your face drops all expression, and you gaze up at him with that soulless look you've learned from your father. "You chose to take my husband with you because you want to keep yours safe, but just so you know, if something happens to Daryl out there, then I'm going to sever Eric's sciatic nerve."

Aaron's optimistic, carefree expression vanishes as he stares down at you with a startled look. You don't move from his personal space, but you retract your hand from his jacket. Instead, you bring up the same wrist to his eyesight, and pull back the sleeve of your sweater, revealing the mechanism strapped to your wrist. When you press the button, the sharp sound of the blade sliding out fills the space, causing Aaron to step back. "I will shove my 12-inch blade so far up your husband's back, you're going to wish you never walked into that barn that day."

Aaron's face transforms into something entirely different, unlike anything you've seen from him before. "Are you threatening me?" his voice is low, his body tense.

"You're not listening, Aaron," you say softly, a small smirk crossing your face, almost daring him as you look up at him through your lashes. "Do you even understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

You shake your head as you move forward, but instead of invading his personal space, you walk around him. You stop when you reach the garage door. "Move very carefully, cause even though Eric isn't out there physically, I want you to know that his life is on the line. And that, is a fact," you say, looking at Daryl across the street, who is waiting patiently. "Don't say I didn't warn you. Have a safe trip."

With that, you leave Aaron alone in his home, allowing him to digest your words.

"What the hell were y'all talking about?" Daryl asks when you take a few steps to reach him.

"You know me," you say with a shrug. "Just giving him the spiel about the walkie." You can tell Daryl doesn't believe you, but you just smile sweetly at him.

Behind you, there is the sound of rumbling as Aaron pulls out of his garage on his old beat-up Honda.

"I love you. Stay safe," you tell Daryl, stepping back.