Days

Timestamp: Season 9 Episode 6 - 16

(—Monday—)

Connie wasn't sure when they'd gone from aimlessly wandering alone in the woods to being surrounded by what had to be at least thirty dead, but she stood strong against the backs of her sister and Luke as the three slashed, stabbed, and speared at anything that got close enough to attack. Wielding a rock, she slammed it into the soft skull of the one right in front of her, and as soon as it hit the ground another one was there stumbling its way in her direction.

Jesus. She looked around and saw no pockets to make a run for it, the dead were packed too tight and coming at them from all sides. The realization hit and crushed her, like an anvil free falling and landing right onto her head... this is it.

With her free hand, Connie reached to the side and felt for Kelly's fingers. She supposed this was most fitting, a chaotic end for what had turned into a tumultuous existence. They would make one last stand and it would probably take them both, but Connie needed her sister to know that she was still there, as she'd always been. She found Kelly's once smooth, but now rough as sandpaper hand, and squeezed, before dropping it to raise the rock as the dead closed in.

Just as she was about to bring the rock down onto the head of the one with its eyes on her neck, the thing spasmed and dropped. And like a domino, the ones behind it fell in rapid succession.

Connie felt Kelly's hands on her arms, pulling her to the ground. She hit the wet, cool mud and looked over at Kelly, who was laying across from her. "Stay down. Someone's shooting," she feverishly signed, her eyes bugged out.

Connie ducked her head and splayed her fingers across as much of the surface of her head and neck as they would cover. Her body shook as she waited.

What had to be seconds later, tapping on her shoulder prompted her to look up. "We're good," her sister signed, her tight face now loose. Then Kelly's eyes flicked up, just above Connie's head. "Look."

Connie rolled onto her back and brought her hand up to the place right above her eyes, shielding them from the glare of the sun. And through the sweat droplets dripping from her curls, she saw an eye-patched man in a cowboy hat standing above her, with a rifle in his hands. Her vantage point and where the sun was shining, wouldn't allow a view of his face. He extended his hand. Connie looked behind her and saw two others, a woman and a younger boy, who were helping Kelly and Luke up.

She turned back to the man and took his outstretched hand. As he pulled her up and more of his face came into view she saw his lips moving, but without any context except for the smile on his face, she was unsure of what he was trying to tell her.

Once on her feet, Connie looked over her shoulder at Kelly. "They're asking if we're okay." her sister signed automatically.

"Who are they?" She looked the other two over more thoroughly. The woman was tiny—short and skinny and wore glasses—and the boy was tall and lanky, with a serious face.

Kelly walked over, to stand off to the side and in between Connie and the man. Connie watched Kelly's lips move in sync with her hands. "Thank you. We were in deep shit."

The man smiled and nodded at Kelly, then turned to look at Connie. She focused on his kind eyes and soft features, as his mouth moved, "You alright?"

Connie nodded at him. All three of them looked clean—hair, nails, everything. One thing was for sure, they weren't wanderers. "Who are you?" she signed.

The man pressed his hand to his chest. Then pointed to the boy, who averted his eyes when Connie glanced back at him, and lastly he motioned for the woman who smiled wide flashing her bright white teeth—yeah, they were definitely not wanderers.

Connie's eyes panned over to Kelly and she watched her fingers fly through the letters. "Carl. My brother Andre. Our friend Aoki," Kelly fingerspelled. "I'm Kelly. She's Connie, my sister. And he's Luke, our friend."

"Do you have a camp?" Connie signed.

Carl hesitated and looked from Andre to Aoki, before opening his mouth. Connie's eyes ping-ponged between Kelly's hands and Carl's face. "How many walkers have you–"

When Kelly's fingers halted mid-sign and her face scrunched up in concern, Connie pinged back to Carl. She found him in a heated sidebar with Andre, whose tense shoulders and stuck-high eyebrows gave her an idea of what he might be telling his brother.

"What's going on?"

"Andre doesn't want to take us back. Something about not letting people in while... someone is away."

Carl and Andre's eyes went to Luke and when Connie looked over at her friend, she caught him signing boisterously, his gaze on the man and boy. "I dabbled in the culinary arts… once upon a time ago, and… you know, with a little bit of help." He pointed to the ground at the deer that had been discarded in the midst of the fray. "I can whip this buck into a mighty fine stew..."

Carl and Andre stared at him with a blank face.

Connie walked a few feet to stand in front of Carl, Kelly came with. "Please. We've been traveling for days without any food or water. We won't be a bother. We just need a safe place to lay our heads for a few days."

Carl kept his eyes on her as he listened to Kelly and then he nodded. "I want to help, but…" He blew out a breath. "We'll have to put a bag over your head. And you'll have to stay in holding until our Head of Security and Head of the Council gets back tomorrow. It's protocol. The whole council has to interview you before you can gain admittance into the community. But while you wait we can give you food and water."

Security. Protocol. A council. Food. Water. Her whole entire being was salivating at the prospect of all those things in one place. She looked over at Luke, who shrugged, and Kelly, who nodded.

"Thank you," Connie signed.

"Andre, right?" Luke asked the kid, with a deer slung over his shoulders, who hiked beside him.

Andre glanced over at him, but only briefly, before turning his gaze back to the trees. "Yeah," he replied in a muted voice.

Judging by his frame alone, one might assume the kid was a man. But it was all in the face; that not quite a child but still not quite a grown folk look. "You're kind of young to be out here, aye?"

"I'm fourteen," he said plainly, like it was meant to explain everything. But the question still remained; if these people had walls, why was a fourteen-year-old roaming the woods without his parents? When Carl and Andre had been arguing he'd heard them refer to their Mom and Dad and it had sounded like they might be in charge of the place.

"So this place you're taking us to? Your parents are there?" Luke probed.

Andre nodded and Luke waited for more but the kid remained silent.

Okaaaay, he thought. This is gonna take some teeth-pulling, I see. He'd had students like Andre, before; usually, all it took was a well-placed corny joke to get the shell cracked. "They like the Presidents of this place or something?" he joked. "Or royalty reconstituted? all hail Mr. and Mrs. Andre's parents."

"No." Andre didn't even try to appease him by feigning a laugh; the kid was a vault.

"His dad, Rick, is the leader– well co-leader with his mom, Michonne." He turned his head when he heard the young lady who was on the other side of him. "Rick's also the Head of the Council and Michonne's the Head of Security. They're good people, just cautious."

"Kid's not much of a talker is he?" he whispered to her.

"Nah," She peeked around Luke to look at Andre and shot the kid an affectionate smile. "Andre's pretty quiet until he warms up to you. But he's a really cool kid."

He held his hand out. "We weren't formally introduced. Luke Abrams."

She took it. "Aoki. I don't do last names anymore."

"Respect." He snapped his fingers, his eyes on the sky. "Aoki... Aoki... got it." He pointed at her. "Blue tree, right?"

Her face brightened. "You speak Japanese?"

"Sukoshi dake."

"Well, the little you know is pretty good. Though your pronunciation is a tad off. How'd you learn?"

He opened his mouth to answer but closed it when he realized how lame the story really was. The Japanese teacher at the school he taught music had been a bonafide beauty. He wasn't ashamed to say he'd go home every night, for the better part of a year, and spend hours teaching himself the language. Unfortunately, she'd fallen for the gym teacher, thus adding another tick to the box of ladies he'd lost to a jock.

Hmmm... how to spin it? How to spin it? "Let's just say a pretty woman inspired me to teach myself the beautiful language."

"Nice."

He then asked the question he'd asked more times than he was comfortable with. "So, how many people are in your community?" Every place they'd come across had been promising, but it always ended the same.

Aoki smiled. "You'll see."

They followed Carl when he turned out of the woods and onto the road, where a horse drawn carriage-car thing was waiting. A young gent sat in the back, eating an apple. He hopped out when he saw them. "Hey. You're back... and you brought friends."

"Hey, babe." Aoki walked over and kissed him. "Luke, Kelly, and Connie. Meet my husband, Benjamin."

"Hi," Luke signed, with a salute.

Benjamin waved back, then ran his hand through his hair. "I thought we weren't supposed–"

"It's fine." Carl reached into the back and pulled out black cloth bags. He held them up. "This is how it has to be the rest of the way. I'm sorry."

Luke bowed. "Your community. Your rules."

The ride was bumpy, with most roads cracked to hell by now. Carl and Andre helped them off the cart one by one.

When the mask was pulled up from his head, he looked around for the others and found they were all in a line. He faced forward and saw a massive, bigger than any he'd seen before, black steel and wrought iron gate that towered so high he had to strain his neck to see the intimidating as hell armed guard dressed in black tactical gear, who was standing behind it. It looked like a certified military compound and Luke couldn't put together in his mind how it, and this ragtag team of young people went together.

Carl reached for his walkie and looked up at the straight-faced man standing guard. "Alabaster," he said into the talkie.

The man squinted down at them and brought the walkie to his mouth. "Denied," they heard through the radio.

Carl sighed. "They're going into holding, until they get back," he yelled up at the man. "Just open the damn gate DJ."

The man—DJ?—dithered momentarily, before turning to the side and reaching down. A second later the electric gates rolled to the side and Luke nearly shit his pants at what he saw.

This can't be for real, Kelly thought, from where she stood beside her sister and Luke, just inside the gates of The Alexandria Union. It was like stepping back in time to a city untouched by what the world had become.

On either side of the town, which stretched further than her eyes could see, was a perfect line of narrow and built-high row houses with stairs leading up to their front doors. They reminded her of the Brooklyn neighborhood her grandfather lived most of his life, where she and Connie would spend most summers. She tried to count the homes, but quit when she got to one hundred—and that was just on one side. There had to be at least two hundred homes in this place.

A paved road on either side separated the houses from the strip of buildings that bisected the town—a church, a school, a meeting and a dining hall—all built long and narrow down the entire length of the town. She squinted and saw a park, near the back gates, where the solar panels were.

The streets were packed: parents walking with backpack-clad kids, people jogging, children riding bikes in the road, some guy with a man bun and a goatee teaching a group of kids karate in a grassy spot between the church and school.

And it wasn't until she saw a squad of soldiers dressed in the same black tactical uniform as the guy on guard, running in formation through the street with a red headed-guy leading the pack, that she noticed it wasn't just the soldiers who had a gun and a knife, each, attached to their belts. Every adult that passed by them had a weapon.

This place had everything, except... she didn't see any crop fields, or gardens. "how do you eat?" she signed and asked.

"We have a farm a couple of miles away from here," Carl replied. "We built a wall around it too. The people who work there live there. They deliver food every week. We needed all the space for the homes and other buildings."

"You built all this?"

"Yeah. There was a sustainable community here, before. But we slowly tore a lot down and rebuilt from the ground up, over the years to make it more economical. In fact, this is the first year the town hasn't been under construction. But if we keep growing, I'm sure that will change."

"How many people live here?" Connie signed.

"Six hundred and fifty-nine," he said proudly. "But it's about to be six hundred and sixty in a few months," Carl said.

"Trackers, please?" Andre asked.

Benjamin, Aoki, and Carl reached down to unclip the small red blinking devices attached to their belts and handed them to Andre.

"Hey," Kelly said to Carl. "What are those?"

"Tracking devices."

"The satellites still work?" Connie signed.

"No. Our engineer, Eugene, recently perfected something called the quantum compass... it's uh–" Carl looked to Andre, whose face lit up for the first time since they'd run into the group.

"It's an instrument that measures relative position using atom interferometry. It's a bunch of accelerometers and gyroscopes based on quantum technology to structure an inertial navigation unit..."

Kelly's fingers flew as she tried to keep up with the words Andre was saying, but the translation was shoddy at best because she had no clue what the majority of the words he was speaking meant in English.

But Andre was fully in his element, sounding like a bonafide whiz kid. "It's clouds of atoms frozen using lasers. By measuring the movement of frozen particles over precise periods of time–" he held up a tracker. "The transmitter's motion can be calculated. The tracker gives a tamper-proof accurate position..." he paused scanning the confused faces.

"So..." Luke said, one of his eyebrows curled up. "If I'm reading you right, it's a GPS that doesn't require a satellite signal?"

"Pretty much," Andre replied, looking like he wanted to roll his eyes at the simplicity of the explanation.

Luke stuck his hand in his pockets and nodded, his wavy hair flapping about. "Cool, cool, cool."

"Everyone who steps foot outside the gate wears one," Benjamin explained. "So if anything happens out there we know their last known location– we can go out and find 'em."

"Nice to meet you." Andre gave the newcomers a quick wave before fleeing.

"Dinner's at six, don't be late," Carl yelled after him.

Andre threw up a peace sign as he retreated.

Carl turned back to them. "I gotta go pick my little brother and sister up from school. But Ben and Aoki will take care of you– get you set up and get you some food. I'll come by later to check on you."

"Thank you, Carl." Connie gave him a radiant smile and Carl repaid it in kind.

"Yeah, no problem," he replied, before walking away.

"What does he do around here?" Kelly heard Luke ask Aoki.

"Carl? Officially, he's a Blacksmith. But he pretty much leads this place with his parents. He does everything."

As Carl tucked Taj's princess comforter between the frame and the mattress of her bed and then looked around the painted pink room filled with tiara-wearing Barbies and dolls, he realized how perfectly the theme of his baby sister's bedroom matched her personality.

"Tighter," she demanded, her arms and legs already tucked under so tight that she could barely move.

"That's as tight as it goes."

"Daddy does it tighter."

Carl settled back onto his heels. "This is just gonna have to do for today." He picked the book up off of the floor next to him and groaned. Great, he thought. Little Red Riding Hood for the fiftieth time. "You sure you don't want another book?"

"Please, just read," she replied, with a slight tinge of annoyance in her voice.

"Fine," he acquiesced, unintentionally matching her attitude. He flipped the book open with a sigh, before reading, "Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a village near the forest–"

"Wait. No. You're not doing the voice," she whined.

"I'm not doing the voices tonight."

"There's the Narrator, the Mother, the Grandma, Little Red, and the wolf. You have to do all the voices."

"I'm tired, Taj." Rick and Michonne being gone, inadvertently put their responsibilities on his shoulders. He'd had to deal with his fair share of petty community mishaps and back-and-forths between bickering residents. "Please just give me a break tonight."

"Forget it," Taj huffed, turning in her bed to face the wall. "If you're not gonna do it right, I don't want it. I'll just wait til Daddy comes back."

He shut the book. "Alright. Goodnight." Carl walked toward the door, every step adding another ounce of guilt to his consciousness as he approached. He stopped shy of shutting her light off and his hand paused on the switch, a ticker-tape of his mother's last words scrolling through his mind. Dammit, this is what she'd been talking about. It was easy to do when the day was uncomplicated, but what marked him a good brother was how he dealt with his younger siblings when he was at the end of his straw. Taj didn't deserve to bear the brunt of his irritation and the anxiousness he'd carried with him since he'd woken that morning.

He turned back around and shuffled to her bed, before sitting on the ground again. "How about this," he said softly. "How about I do two of the voices? Little Red and her Grandma."

After a moment, Taj turned her head. "And the wolf one time," she bargained, with a dimpled smile.

He returned it. "Okay."

Carl inched Taj's door closed ever so slightly, so as not to wake her. She'd fallen asleep right before the last page and he couldn't guarantee that she'd hit a deep enough sleep not to wake up at the creaking of the hinges.

The door hit the frame and he tiptoed toward the stairs and onto the third floor. Their new house—which wasn't really new since they'd lived there for three years now—had three levels. The first was the living, dining room, and kitchen. The second floor was where his parents and Taj's rooms were, and on the third was his room and the room Andre and RJ shared.

He knocked once, before opening the door. The other half of his twin siblings didn't much care for bedtime stories anymore. He preferred to spend his time before bed at the drafting table, which Daryl had found at an art store. So, it didn't surprise Carl when he found RJ there that night. "Hey, bud, time for lights out."

"Okay." RJ turned to look at him. "Wanna see what I drew?"

"Sure." Carl moved to stand beside him in front of the table.

He stepped back and whistled when his eyes landed on the stenciled portrait of Michonne that had no business looking so damn realistic. The grayscale illustration looked almost three dimensional. RJ never ceased to amaze him with his natural ability to draw. His baby brother spent the majority of his free time, when not in school or taking one of Jesus' martial arts classes, on the stairs of their house drawing what or whoever walked by.

At only eight years old, community members were already commissioning RJ's artwork, and on the wall of their livingroom were framed portraits of each of their family members with the name Richard Grimes Jr. signed at the bottom.

"You drew this from memory?" Carl asked, staring at the intricate strokes and details of their mom's new cut short on one side locs.

"Yup," Andre replied, admiring his own work. "I just stared at Mom a lot before she left. I want to surprise her with it when she gets back. You think she'll like it?"

He rubbed his head. "It's amazing RJ. She's gonna love it."

"Tomorrow can you take me to the pantry to get a big envelope and some ribbon for it?"

"Yeah, sure. We'll go before school... did you brush your teeth?"

Andre smiled wide and then blew out a breath in Carl's direction. "Yup."

"Alright, come on." Carl guided his brother to the bed and tucked him in, he kissed him on the head before walking to the door. "Night. Love you," he said, flipping the light off.

"Love you too."

Carl's last stop of the night led him to the basement, aka Andre's repair shop. At the center of the space was a utility table where Andre sat now, tinkering with a boombox, its assorted parts laid out in front of him.

"Who's that for?" Carl asked, pulling up a stool to sit on the other side of the table.

Andre, too enthralled in whatever he was doing to the sound system, didn't look up. "Uncle Glenn– for the redirect crew. Blown speaker."

"Got it. Hey, what'd you think about the people we picked up today?"

Andre shrugged. "The guy talks a lot, but they seem alright." He glanced up at Carl and wagged his eyebrows. "Mom's gonna be pissed you didn't follow protocol."

Carl, Andre, Benjamin, and Aoki went out hunting on occasion just to hang out. The four of them, despite their age differences, had formed a unique friendship—the common bond being that they'd all grown up in this world together. But they weren't part of the acquisition crew, who were trained to go out and find people, bring them in, and process them into the community. Everyone else who went outside the walls were to avoid strangers and report them to Daryl and Aaron. And if they happened upon other people, they were to deny they had a camp. It was how they filtered who came into the community. "Yeah, I know. But once she meets them I think she'll understand."

"Good luck with that."

He was twenty-two now, but he still had a healthy respect for both of his parents and revered them as leaders of the community. He could only hope his mom would understand the judgment call he'd made.

Carl stood. "I'm going out. I'll be back in a bit. Listen for Taj? She might wake up wanting mom and dad. Just stay with her until she falls back asleep."

"Yup. I know the drill." Andre smiled up at him. "Good luck."

Carl jogged back up the stairs and took a quick shower, changed into the nicest and cleanest button-down he could find in his closet, and ran some hair gel through the bushy top of his crew cut until it sat just like he wanted it to. He swung by the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine and the rest of the supplies he'd scrounged together. Carl popped back into his room when he remembered he'd forgotten the most important thing, before rushing out of the front door to head out to their spot.

He reached the gazebo and Aoki was waiting for him, pacing. "What the hell, man?"

"I know, I'm sorry," he said, handing her the blanket and bag he held. "I had to get Taj and RJ to sleep. Took longer than I thought."

"We gotta hurry. She'll be here in ten minutes."

They kicked it into high gear: Aoki making quick work out of spreading the blanket on the ground before lighting the tea candles she set on the ledge of the gazebo, while Carl poured two glasses of wine and unwrapped the platter of cheese and crackers that Aoki had brought.

When they were finished, Carl and Aoki stood back and surveyed their handiwork. "Thank you." He put his arm around Aoki's shoulder and pulled her in for a hug.

She returned it, rubbing her hand up and down his back. "Are you nervous?"

"Yeah," he said with a little laugh.

"Don't be. You got this."

Aoki left him and while Carl waited, he dithered about, deciding whether to sit or stand. He decided on standing and held both glasses that were filled halfway with the wine his mom had picked out when he'd told her of his plans.

It wasn't until he saw Priya approaching the gazebo that his hands began to shake.

Her long jet-black hair blew against the wind as she sauntered toward him. She'd just gotten off work and still wore her black uniform, but nevertheless, she looked breathtaking. Her light brown eyes sparkled and her golden skin shined against the moonlight glow.

Her footsteps slowed when she caught sight of him. "Carl Grimes... what is this?" she asked, and even after all her years living in the Southeast, her rich Indian accent still rang through. He loved the sound of her voice, an ever-present reminder that despite how small the world was now, it was still big. "I wish you would have told me we were dressing up tonight."

"You look beautiful."

She stepped up to him and he held the glasses out wide as she ran her hands over the front of his dress shirt, her arms going around his neck. "You're so handsome." She pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Thank you." He handed her a glass. "This is for you."

"Wine?" She sipped. "And the good stuff too. "

He took her hand. "Come on, let's sit."

"Did you do all this?"

"I had help."

"Aoki, huh?"

"Yup."

Priya laughed. "It looks delicious," she said, fixing a stack of cheese and crackers. She handed it to him, before going in to make another, for herself.

"How was work?" he asked, through his bites, buying time.

"We had two recruits drop out today. But better now, than before war games." Priya was second in command of the hundred-man army Abraham had built from the ground up. Every year they recruited twenty-five new soldiers from within the community, taking them through a rigorous three-month boot camp that culminated in a three-day test—War Games—that, if they passed, gave them entry into the infantry. Priya (who'd been a commanding officer in the Indian Army, and was on vacation in the US with her girlfriends at the very start) had been part of Abraham's first class of recruits four years ago. It hadn't taken Abraham long to pull her up the ranks.

"How was your day?" she asked.

"Stressful. Didn't even get to step foot into the Smithy. I feel bad, I know Earl is swamped getting ready for the fair."

"Have you considered talking to him about bringing on a new apprentice? I mean, your parents have been giving you more and more responsibilities around here. I honestly don't know how you've been able to juggle planning the fair with Ezekiel and working in the Smithy... Not to mention your dad looks like he has one foot out the door..."

"Yeah. He never wanted to lead forever. And with Taj and RJ still so young, I think he just wants to enjoy them growing up, ya know? He spent most of my and Andre's childhood finding a safe place for us to be, and then it was all about building this place up."

"He already told you he wants you to take over as Head of the Council, right?"

"Yeah. But I don't know... I've been with Earl for so long... I think he wanted to hand the Smithy over to me."

She ran her hand over the side of his head. "Sounds like you have a decision to make."

"I do... you do too."

She leaned back. "I do?"

Carl nodded, his throat suddenly closing up. He turned to face her and swallowed down his fear. "I love you," he managed to get out.

"I love you, too."

"I– uh... I remember the first time I saw you. The day you walked through that gate with Aaron and Daryl. I didn't know how at the time, but I felt that somehow you were gonna be in my life." He laughed. "It took me two months to work up the courage to say hi to you and two years to ask you out and two more years to ask you this..."

Priya's hand trembled inside of his, her eyes watered as Carl shifted up onto his knee. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. Priya took in a sharp breath. "You got a ring?"

"It was my mom's. Actually, first, it was my Grandmother's. She passed it down to my dad... it was meant to be passed down to me. Even though they didn't work out, I wanted you to have something from her. I think she would have loved you..."

Priya lifted onto her knees and took Carl's face in her hands. "It's beautiful," she whispered, placing her lips on his. "It's perfect."

"I still need to ask, though."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry." Priya pulled away from him, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. She held her shaky hand out to Carl.

"Priya Khan. Will you be my wife?"

"Hell yes!"

"Rick!" Michonne yelped, as they rolled off of the bed. He braced for impact, tightening his arms around her naked body and pressing it into his own as they tumbled to the floor. But when his back hit the carpet, it was only a slight sting of pain that ran up his spine. They were still—her on top of him—and they stared at each other for a split second before exploding into a burst of raucous laughter. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah." Rick gave a laughter-laced groan. "Are you?"

"I am."

They'd clearly gotten a little overzealous in the full-sized bed; their king at home was large enough for them to switch positions to their heart's content.

Michonne moved to climb off of him, but he took her shoulders. "Wait. The carpet's soft..." he drawled, raising a suggestive eyebrow before lifting up to press a kiss on the spot in-between her breasts. "There's more room down here."

Michonne didn't skip a single beat. "Okay." She settled the full weight of her body and her lips back onto him.

Later, propped up on his forearms against the pillows on the bed, Rick stared at Michonne. She stood in front of the dresser across from the bed in her underwear, slipping into her shorts.

His eyes swept over her finely formed figure. He took in her smooth and toned thighs, trailed over her perfect behind—one of his favorite parts of her body—and he paused only momentarily when his gaze dragged over the keloid 'X' branded into the skin of her lower back. The mark was a permanent reminder of a day they all worked diligently to forget about. He moved his attention off of it and his eyes continued their quest up to her hourglass upper half that had his appetite stirring once again. "You know, we could stay for a few more days."

Michonne pulled her tank top over her head and glanced over her shoulder at him, her face set in an amused simper. "A few more days?"

"Yeah. Some more lazy mornings in the water and evenings alone in bed." More nights than not, Taj wandered her way next door into their bedroom when she woke with nightmares of the day that would go down as one of the worst for their family—the day Michonne and Daryl had both been marked. Sometimes he still felt guilty for not being there to rescue his baby girl; he'd been away for days and out of range with Abe doing a materials pickup.

It was that very same guilt that wouldn't allow him to deny his little girl the comfort of having both her parents on either side of her as she slept. And he adored his daughter, he truly did, but he'd been craving some uninterrupted nights with the woman he adored. The two days they'd been alone together so far had been glorious, but it'd only been a taste, he wanted just a little more.

"We've been gone three days already. We told the kids– we told Taj we'd be back tomorrow." She walked to the bed and climbed in, laying on her side.

"Carl's taking great care of them. And it'll be good for her, getting some separation from us. Two more days."

"You know I'd love that, but Glenn and Jada are coming down here in a couple of days– a quick getaway before the baby comes. Remember, they asked us to keep Nari while they were away?"

Rick sighed. "Oh yeah." It wasn't at all that he minded caring for their goddaughter—Taj and RJ loved doting on their godsister and the three-year-old was as mild-mannered as her father—but days alone with his love were so few and far between now.

With their roles in the community and raising kids, it was so rare he got Michonne all to himself. "Carl can't do it? He's already watching Taj and RJ."

"He and Ezekiel are taking a crew down to the stadium to finish building the stage and booths for the fair."

"Right. Day and a half more then– today and tomorrow."

"We should get back."

"Just a little more."

"You know we can always come back. This place isn't going anywhere."

"Yeah, I know. Just a little more, okay?"

She watched him for a moment, realization dawning on her face. She rested her hand on his chest. "Okay," she said softly. "And don't forget we still have the rest of the night." She leaned over and kissed the spot where his neck and jawline met.

"Mmm... hold that thought." Rick reached into the nightstand next to the bed and pulled out four envelopes. "I've been waiting to show you these." He handed them to Michonne and she pushed up to sit against the headboard as Rick shifted onto his side, to face her. "Today is the actual day, so..."

She took them and read what was written on the back of each envelope, respectively; from Carl, from Andre, from RJ, and from Taraji. "Did you put them up to this?"

"No. This was all Carl. He coordinated it."

Michonne peeled the seal of the first envelope that was from their Taji Rose. She unfolded the piece of paper from inside and when her eyes quickly scanned the words, she had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

"What? What does it say?" Rick asked.

"Happy birthday Mommy," she read. "You're forty-one today! Man, that's pretty old, but at least you aren't as old as Daddy yet. He's super old."

Rick shook his head. "Really? How old does she think I am?"

She snorted. "Wait, there's more... hope you have fun at the ocean and don't forget to look for a bike for me while you're out there. I don't like sharing with RJ anymore. A pink one please... sincerely Taraji." Folding up the piece of paper, Michonne was laughing so hard she had to wipe at the water trickling down the corners of her eyes. "I love this letter, but this is a perfect example of why we need to proofread all her personal essays for English class."

"Agreed." Rick took the letter from her and read over it for himself, then studied the picture at the bottom of the piece of paper. His daughter had wittingly drawn a picture of Michonne pushing her as she rode a shiny pink bike.

Lord have mercy, he thought. His Taji Rose was a beautiful soul and sweet as all get out, but out of all their school-aged children, she was the one who came home with reports from her teachers the most. According to them, she was a "Chatty Cathy" and could also sometimes be "hyper". For those two reasons she and her best friend, Coco, who was cut from the same cloth, were no longer allowed to sit beside each other in class. He used to wonder where her temperament came from, both he and Michonne were for the most part pretty laid back. It wasn't until Michonne had informed him of the mischief her high-spirited younger self had gotten up to, that he understood Taj was pretty much a carbon copy of who her mother had been at that exact age.

Rick set Taj's letter on his nightstand and watched Michonne rip open RJ's. "Mom, happy birthday," she read. "Thank you for always taking care of me. You're the best mom in the entire world. I hope you have a good time with Dad. I have a present for you when you come home, so hurry back... Ah! That was so sweet!" Michonne handed the card to him.

Rick took the paper and read through it, a smile on his face. "I love that."

"This one is from Carl... he says, dear Mom, more than ever getting older is a gift and the fact that you've lasted eleven years in this world is a blessing. Unfortunately, we know all too well how fragile this life is, but now that life is starting to look like it did before I think it's easy to forget sometimes. And I want us to go back to being the type of family that tells each other every chance we get how much we mean to one another, because we never know when it could be our last. So here goes. I love you, Mom, more than you know. I don't think it's overstating to say that none of us would be here if it weren't for you. You're everything to all of us and I'm grateful, more than anything, that you and Dad found each other. Happy birthday and I wish you many more. Carl."

After his Mom Lori died, Rick had been apprehensive about what kind of relationship Carl and Michonne would have. He wouldn't have blamed his son, and knew Michonne wouldn't either, if he'd never been able to call her 'mom'. And he still wasn't sure when it had happened, but he was ever so grateful.

Rick heard Michonne sniff. He looked and saw her staring hard at the letter. She had only one left and Rick was aware that in the state she was in, no matter what it said, it would send her over. She loved their children all the same, he knew this without a shadow of a doubt, but there was something about a firstborn—the one who taught you how to be a parent—that hit you right in the center of your heart. "You want me to read Andre's?" he asked.

She nodded, handing over the last envelope.

He unfolded the letter and read, "Mom, you know I'm not good with words. But I'm just gonna do my best. Dad always tells us stories of what the two of you did to get us all here. I remember some of it, but when it was all happening you guys shielded me away from a lot of it. Hearing the stories always reminds me of what I admire about you. How strong you are. But you're also kind and loving and I know I can always talk to you. I guess I'm just trying to say that I really love you, Mom. I know I don't always say it, but I do. Andre Anthony Grimes."

Rick's heart swelled with pride when he read the signature. He looked up at Michonne and saw her wiping at the inner corners of her eyes. He sat up on the bed and pulled her into his arms after pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

She pulled away and took the letter from his hands, staring at the paper. "I can't believe he wrote all of this," she said with a shaky voice.

Their fourteen-year-old was the quietest out of all their children and preferred to spend most of his time, when not working in Eugene's engineering shop or at school, on his lonesome fixing things in the garage. Rick made sure to check in with him often, even if it was just sitting and listening to him explain how to fix whatever project he was working on. "I'm awfully proud of him for that."

"Yeah, me too."

First, he heard it in the sound of her voice, then he looked over and saw it on her face... that homesick mama look.

Dammit, he thought. Rick knew he should have given her the letters right before they were about to leave. He settled back onto his side of the bed and slid down until his head hit the pillow. "You wanna go home tomorrow don't you?"

"I'm sorry, baby." She set Andre's letter on the nightstand with the others before she climbed on top of and straddled him. "I promise I'll make up for it tonight," she whispered.

(—Tuesday—)

If there was one thing Michonne knew about Rick Grimes, it was that the man was persistent. In fact, he was the most tenacious man she'd ever known.

The next morning, she woke spent, from a night full of Rick's not-so-subtle persuasions. And while she missed her babies even more now after reading the birthday letters, she couldn't deny that the night they'd had, left her wanting more.

Even in his sleep, her husband was still mounting his full-court press to keep her to himself for a few more days; pressed up against her back with his arms around her, he hadn't let go of her all night.

She rotated in Rick's arms, until she was facing him, and took in the fullness of his handsome face. Nine years. Rick was now by far the longest relationship she'd had. They'd met at the very apex of things and while their love was the most real she'd ever experienced, there was no discounting the fact that part of their bond had been formed because of the trauma they'd gone through together. And as they'd settled into a life that resembled what was before, she'd been nervous about how they'd handle the familiar normalcy.

Building their life in The Union and raising their children hadn't been without its trials. There were days when Rick and Michonne fell short in regard to their relationship—when they'd prioritize their responsibilities as leaders and parents over their commitment to each other. And more times than not, it was Rick who made them stop and refocus on what he said mattered the most, because if they weren't good then neither was their family. He'd wake her at the crack of dawn and they'd slip out of the bed, which they often shared with Taj, to go for an early morning walk together. Or they'd spend time on the front porch with a glass of wine when the kids were all tucked in. Or her favorite, they'd go out hunting or scavenging together. And not to mention, this getaway had been his idea. He worked hard to keep them connected, the least she could do was give him a little more.

"Rick," she whispered.

He kept his eyes closed, but murmured, "Huh?"

"You still wanna stay another day."

His tired eyes pushed open. "Another day?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah. One more."

"Hmmm. Last night did the trick, huh?"

She laughed and pushed off his chest. "Stop it."

"Just nice to know my hard work paid off." He pressed a kiss on her lips. "We should get in the water early..."

"We need to radio the kids first– let them know we're staying. Oh, and Carl was supposed to propose to Priya last night. I wanna know how it went." She reached back for the walkie-talkie, but before Michonne could hit the transmit button, a knock sounded at the door.

"Hold on," she called before reaching over the edge of the bed to grab her clothes, as Rick did the same.

She walked to the door and waited until Rick was dressed before pulling it open.

Jessie stood on the other side. "Hey. Sorry if I woke you."

"No, it's fine. Everything alright?"

"Can I come in?"

Michonne looked over her shoulder once more, to make sure. When she saw Rick walking toward the door, in his jeans and t-shirt she opened it wider for Jessie to step in.

She heard Rick and Jessie exchange greetings behind her as she shut the door.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I know you guys are relaxing and I'm sorry to bring this to you–"

"Don't worry about it," Rick interrupted.

"Rachel and Jules went missing yesterday– "

"Were they wearing trackers?" Michonne asked.

"No. Eugene just delivered them. We gave the first batch to the fisherman on the Albacore. They just went back out. He said he was gonna get us more– anyways, Jules found her way back here this morning. Thing is, we radioed The Union. Daryl, Aaron, and Jesus were already out, so they went looking before she got back. And Jules just filled us in on what happened, and what she's saying they saw..." She looked between the two of them. "It's best if you hear it for yourselves."

Since Natania had died, four years ago, Oceanside and The Union had reconciled. The smaller community was now where The Union residents went to seek respite—they left two open cabins for anyone who wanted to spend a few days near the ocean. In exchange, The Union provided the seaside community with fresh produce and meat on a weekly basis. Oceanside had also taken a cue from them and formed a council, so no one person had absolute power.

Minutes later, Rick and Michonne stood in the infirmary cabin, with Jessie and three other council members standing around the bed of the well-worn woman—Jules.

"They have no idea what they're dealing with," Jules said through trembling lips, as she stared down at her shaking hands. "We saw the herd coming and we tried to run away, but it followed us, the entire herd... and we hid in the embankment. In the mud. And they were..."

Jessie set a comforting hand on the woman's arm. "Just tell them what you told me."

"It's gonna sound crazy." Jules glanced up at Rick and Michonne, a haunted look in her eyes. "They were– the walkers were whispering."

Yeah, Michonne thought. That sounds crazy as hell. There was no way.

"You were dehydrated," Rick said. "Could it be that you heard–"

"They were talking to each other," Jules affirmed. "I know what I heard. Okay? I'm not crazy. And I'm aware it sounds batshit. But it wasn't in my head. Rachel heard it too." Jules shook her head. "And she's still out there, alone."

Michonne turned to Rick. "Whatever's going on. We need to alert Daryl and the others."

"I tried," Jessie said. "They're already out of range."

"Then we gotta go." Rick lifted their walkie-talkie from his belt. "If they come in contact with that herd you were talking about, they're gonna need help." Into the walkie-talkie, he said, "Eugene come in."

"Copy that, Boss. Eugene here," he replied almost immediately.

"Give me Daryl's current coordinates."

"Rachel!" Michonne yelled the moment she and Rick reached the wrought iron gate of the cemetery and saw the frightened young woman standing back watching as Aaron, Daryl, and Jesus fought off the walkers stumbling toward and circling around them.

"Michonne, thank God!" Rachel, who she'd met when she was only a kid, limped toward the stuck-in-the-mud gate, which Michonne and Rick were both trying to pry open.

"You gotta push," Michonne instructed.

Rachel threw her body against the gate and shoved at it with the weight of her tall frame as they strained, pulling on the poles. But nothing.

Rick broke a thick branch off the tree beside them and dropped down to his knees, digging into the dirt as the women continued pushing and pulling. When the gate began to give, he reached through the divide and took Rachel's arm, hauling her through the opening.

Michonne grabbed hold of her and pulled her the rest of the way through, as Rick held the gate open.

"Daryl! Jesus! Let's go!" he yelled.

"You okay?" Michonne asked, looking her over.

"My leg is fucked, but I'm fine."

Michonne turned back to the gate and saw the men still fighting the walkers.

"Leave 'em!" Rick yelled. "We gotta go!"

"Go," Jesus ordered Daryl and Aaron. "I'll cover you two."

They both hesitated.

"Go!"

They ran for the gate and shimmied through the just wide enough, narrow crack in it.

Jesus was surrounded, fighting them off left and right. "Jesus!" Michonne shouted. "Come on!"

He flung his sword to the right and decapitated two on one side and then heaved it to the left taking out the two on the other. He watched them drop and then turned and strode toward the gate. Out of nowhere, a walker came stumbling toward him, from the side. Unfazed, he pitched his sword toward the walker's neck, and Michonne nearly toppled over from shock when the fucking thing ducked and stabbed Jesus in the back.

And for a second everything and everyone was frozen in time: Jesus was back bent with a sword pierced through him and the others stared at the scene with mouths and eyes wide open.

The moment was broken when Rick yelled, "No!" He slipped through the gate and unhitched his machete when more walkers—or whatever the hell they were—appeared, wielding knives. Rick fought them off as Daryl and Aaron ran back in after him.

"Wait here," Michonne said to Rachel. She unlatched the gun from her thigh holster and handed it to the young woman before unsheathing her katana and charging through the gate.

Together they fought the freaks and cleared the knife-wielding walkers until they were all in a pile on the ground.

The four of them stood around staring at the confusing carnage. As she scanned the scene, her eyes fell on Jesus' body. Michonne dropped her sword and pitched onto her knees, beside his limp frame. She placed a shaky hand on the chest of her friend.

"Michonne," she heard Rick say.

She looked over and saw him and Daryl kneeling on either side of the face-planted body of one of the walkers, and she made her way over.

Daryl parted the hair on the back of its head and cut through its flappy skull, with his knife. He slid the skin off and held it up.

Rick turned the body over, revealing a very recently alive face.

(—Wednesday—)

Andre shuffled into the engineering shop and made a beeline for the man sporting a rattail, who sat at the desk in the center of the gadget-filled room, with his head craned up and his eyes on the oversized monitor mounted on the wall. Eugene looked like a maestro as he flipped nobs and pressed buttons on the switchboard he sat in front of.

"What's up, 'Gene?"

"Hello," Eugene replied, glancing over his shoulder with a quick nod before turning his attention back to the screen that displayed a map of the region.

Andre set his backpack on the ground and slouched into the swivel chair next to his mentor, exhausted from another boring day sitting in a classroom. He wished his parents would let him apprentice with Eugene full-time, instead of working part-time in his shop after school. But they wanted him to be a "well-rounded individual", or at least that's what they told him every time he asked.

His eyes scanned the screen filled with blinking dots of different colors. He searched for the red ones and found the two, moving side by side. "They're almost home," he remarked. His mom and dad had been set to arrive the day before, but they'd radioed while Andre and his siblings were eating breakfast, to let them know they'd be late.

"That would be an affirmative."

"Their batteries should be dead by now, shouldn't they?"

"Your parentals being the astute intuits on everything to do with everything and the only ones who actually listen to me when I give instructions, were smart enough to turn their tracking devices off while they were–" Eugene blushed and coughed. "Spending time together by the ocean." He jerked his head toward the table in the corner of the room. "Check out the sweet ass finds the scavenge crew nabbed for us."

Andre pushed off the table and slid across the room, he reached into the box and pulled out what was inside. "Daaamn," he said, holding the chipboard—one of the missing links he and Eugene needed in order to make a go of getting the internet up and running again. He'd been too young to even get a chance to use the web, but from what Eugene had told him, he could hardly wait. Well, it wouldn't be the same internet they had before, not for a while. But a basic starter web that resembled something from the eighty's—that's what Eugene told him. "Can we get to it today?"

"Homework?"

Andre sighed and rolled back over to him. "I'll do it later."

Point blank, Eugene replied, "No."

"Come on, dude."

"Your parentals made me swear on the little I hold dear that our work here would not interfere in your matriculation and I value my meager life too much to cross the likes of... The Rick and... The Michonne Grimes. So. Go." He shooed him away. "Do your assignments. We resume our noble work tomorrow."

"Fine. But promise you won't start back up without me?"

"Scouts honor. Wouldn't dare do it without you. Your assist has been a boon thus far and I thank you mightily."

"Wanna put in a good word for me with my parents? Think about what we could do if this was an all-day everyday thing."

"Solid try. But the answer remains the same."

Andre stood and threw his backpack over his shoulder. He walked toward the door and on his way, he passed the attic window and saw his parents walking through the gate, escorting a blindfolded and tied-up girl.

As insane as that was, it wasn't what made the bottom fall out of his stomach, but rather the sight of Daryl leading a horse with Jesus's dead body draped over it. "Eugene. Look."

The man hurried to the window and took in a sharp breath at the sight. "Dagnabbit."

They hurried down the stairs of the house and out through the front door. Residents poured out of their homes, flooding the streets.

He watched his dad tell his mom something before she walked away with the girl. His dad looked around at everyone standing there, staring at Jesus' body. "All of you!" he yelled to the onlookers. "Go back to your homes. Wait for further information over comms."

The crowd scattered. His dad found him in the crowd and nudged his head in the direction of their house. Andre nodded and turned to walk home.

Later that night, he sat on the couch next to Taj, who was tucked into Priya's side. RJ and Carl were on the other end. Their mom and dad hadn't been home since they'd walked back through the gate. And now, they listened to the sound of their parent's voices, which came through the intercom, of which each home in the community had one mounted in the corner of their living room. Another one of Eugene's ingenious ideas.

"Jesus fought until the end," his dad said over the speaker. "He died protecting his friends. We apprehended one of the assailants and will question her tonight. Once we know more, so will you all."

There was a momentary pause before his mom's voice came over the speaker. "Until we understand more about what we are dealing with, all activity outside the walls is temporarily on pause."

"Aw man. Does that mean there's no fair?" Taj asked, looking up at Priya.

"I don't know, sweetheart," she replied.

"A candlelight vigil will be held for Jesus tonight after sundown," his mom continued. "And immediately after... shadow protocol will be put in place until we know more."

"What's Shadow Protocol?" RJ asked Carl, a worried expression on his face.

"Means we stay in our houses and we keep lights out and the whole town has a curfew– it means no school or any other activities that require us to leave our homes."

His parents enacting Shadow Protocol meant only one thing... a new enemy.

Michonne's heartache over Jesus intermingled with her exasperation at the thought that, after everything they'd put into this place, people were once again threatening their peace. It was this annoyance that kept her from giving a damn that the girl they'd captured the night before was shivering and crying, hugging herself where she sat on the seat inside the basement cell.

"How many of you are there?" Michonne barked at her.

"I– I already told you," she stammered. "They're all dead. My family is dead." She turned her head away. "Please, just stop."

"Not until you start answering our questions."

Rick stood beside Michonne. He was quiet, but he stared daggers at the girl. "Tell us your name?" he demanded, with a wave of his hand in her direction.

"I told you, I don't have one. None of us do– did. That's not how it worked–"

"No more bullshit!" Michonne stepped in front of her and placed her hands on the armrests on either side of her chair. She leaned down, so their faces were close. "You better start answering our damn questions," she warned. "You're not gonna like what happens if you don't."

The girl stared at her. She opened her mouth to speak but seemed to second guess whatever she was about to say. She looked down at her lap.

"You wear their damn skins," Abraham hissed, from where he stood outside the cell, beside Priya. "Why?"

Michonne stepped away from the girl, who cried quietly. "They were good people. We were good. That's what we did to live. That's all."

"So, are you saying you had to do this?" Priya asked, her tone a close second to Rick's, as the calmest.

"No– but, you wouldn't understand."

"Then make us understand," Priya replied carefully. "Maybe it's unclear, but your time to speak up is running out."

"We– we were just trying to see if they were good people too. But then you attacked us." The girl looked up, directly at Michonne. She noticed that the only clean spot on her face was where the tear streak marks were printed on her skin. "Now they're dead. They're all dead. And I don't have anything."

"What did your people know about us? Do they know about this place?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything! They didn't tell me anything. Please stop asking me," she whimpered. "Just leave me alone. Please. Please just stop just–"

"Mom, stop!" Michonne turned around. Her middle son stood on the stairs watching.

"Andre. What are you–" Michonne stormed out of the cell. "Stay with her," she said to Priya and Abraham, before snatching Andre's arm. "Out."

Michonne heard Rick's footsteps behind them as she herded their son out onto the basement patio.

"What the hell are you doing out of the house?" she asked, trying her damndest not to transfer the full brunt of her anger onto her son.

"I just wanted to see what was going on– she's only a teenager. She can't be much older than me– why are you–"

"You're supposed to be in the house watching your brother and sister."

"Carl's there."

"I didn't ask you where Carl was."

She felt Rick's hand on her arm; his cool touch on her heated skin was like a flip being switched in her. Michonne blew out a breath and took a step back as Rick took one forward. "Look," he said to Andre. "What we're dealing with here– your mom and I can't be worried about you not being where you're supposed to be. You understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go home. We'll talk about this when we get back."

Thoroughly reprimanded by his father, Andre hung his head and walked toward the stairs leading up to the street, but he stopped on the middle step and turned back. "Can I just– can I say something? Please?"

"Go ahead," Rick replied.

"She's not gonna talk to you. I wouldn't. She's scared of you. I mean shit–"

"Watch your mouth," Rick chided.

"I'm just saying, Uncle Abe and Priya are intimidating." He glanced at her, then back at Rick. "Then you two are yelling at her... maybe if we tried a more... subtle approach, maybe she'd talk."

"What are you suggesting?" Michonne asked.

Andre stared at her for a long moment. "Let me talk to her."

"No. You're not getting involved with this."

"I already am. We all are. You brought her here."

Damn, she thought. He has a point. And the realization stung, because hadn't she already learned this lesson? They'd been through this before. After Terminus and the Wolves and Negan and Jocelyn, they didn't hesitate anymore. Bringing her in for questioning was far from protocol. But, how could she justify murdering a surrendering girl? A sinking feeling settled in her gut, though... that maybe they just should have killed her in the woods. But, it was too late for that.

"We won't leave him alone," she heard Rick say to her, but he kept his eyes on Andre.

"You're not serious?"

Rick looked back at her. "We put him on the other side of the bars and we listen. If it starts going a way we don't want it to, we'll intervene..."

Michonne dragged her eyes away from Rick and settled them on Andre, who she wasn't afraid to admit, at only fourteen, was just as astute as she was. Maybe, he could do what she couldn't. "You don't give up anything about this place or our family. "

"Okay."

And for good measure, she let him know, "And we're still gonna talk about this when we get home."

Andre took his time walking down the stairs of the prison. Honestly, he was still shocked that his parents—his mom in particular—agreed to let him talk to the girl. His parents had gone up against many people since the start, but they were consistent in that they kept him and his siblings as far away from the fight as possible. Some things had been unavoidable, like Carl being there when Negan killed his mom or Taj and Jocelyn, but never had they willingly let them close to an enemy.

When he reached the bottom step, he found the girl sitting on the chair with her knees tucked into her chest as she stared at the ground.

"Hey!" he said.

The girl startled and nearly toppled over when she floundered off of the chair and crawled to the corner of the cell.

"Whoa." He held his hands up and then the bottle of water out to her. "Brought you some agua– it's water in Spanish. My Tía Rosita taught me some– Spanish, I mean. Tía– it's... aunt... in Spanish. I know Japanese too. I'm almost fluent," he rambled on like an idiot. "I just started learning Hindi too..." He trailed off. Because why? Why was he going on about this?

He held the bottle up and the plastic-wrapped bread. "It's got strawberry jelly on it."

She didn't move an inch.

Andre set the bottle and sandwich inside the cell and stepped back. She kept her eyes on him.

"I'm Andre– but I guess you already know that," he laughed nervously and wiped his hands on his jeans. Shit, he couldn't get his hands to stop shaking. "Parents, huh? They can be a pain sometimes, right?" He blurted out and immediately remembered his were right outside the window listening. He could only hope that little remark didn't add to whatever punishment was already on the table for him, for sneaking out of the house.

Dang, he thought. Why'd I volunteer to do this? And looking closer at the girl, she was clearly not all there. Earlier he thought he'd seen something familiar in her, it was what had prompted him to intervene, but maybe he'd been wrong. Andre turned to walk back to the stairs and when he reached the top, he heard her faint voice ask, "Those are your parents?"

His steps halted. He turned and walked back down the stairs. "Yeah."

He could see her trying to calculate how that worked. "My dad adopted me when I was little."

"And what about your real dad?"

"Rick is my real dad. The only one I've ever known... but my bio dad... got himself killed at the start."

"How?"

"Walkers," he lied as he did to every newcomer who asked that same question.

"Walkers?"

"Oh. The dead." Andre folded his tall frame onto the ground and sat crisscrossed. "It's what we call them. What do you call them?"

She thought for a moment and seemed to decide that it was a question she could answer. "Guardians."

"Why?"

"They protect us."

"Hmmm... interesting."

"You think I'm insane, don't you?"

"Honestly, yeah. A little."

She sat up straighter against the wall and he thought he saw a twitch of a smile quickly come and go on her lips.

"You said us. The people you were with, are they your people? Your family?"

She was quiet. Staring at a spot on the wall behind him, she subconsciously ran her hand over her arm. When her fingers moved out of the way, Andre saw the marks.

"Just my mom. She's all I have left."

"My little sister, she got taken once. And what my mom did to get her back–"

"She won't come after me," the girl interrupted, hurriedly. "She's not like that. For a long time I thought she was. I thought she did it for me..." Her eyes glazed over as they shifted back to the ground.

"Did what?"

She shook her head.

"You should eat," he said, pointing at the forgotten sandwich.

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Be nice to me."

"I'm not trying to be– not intentionally. You look like you haven't eaten in days."

"Why do you care? Why are you trying to help me?"

Andre shrugged. "I don't know." He contemplated the question though, and in an instant, it dawned on him who this girl reminded him of. "At the start, it was just me and my mom. I don't remember much about it, but my mom was kind of crazy too." He gave a rueful laugh. "I definitely remember that." He used to hear her talk to Mike at night when she thought he was sleeping. And he never told her, but he remembered the days after the camp, he remembered how ruthless she'd been. "But it wasn't who she was, just how she was. I know now, it was because of what she had to do to protect me." Then one day his Dad showed up and everything changed. He hadn't known it then, but his Dad had saved them. "When my dad found us, he could have left us. But, he believes that every life matters. And I guess I do too."

"I'm not crazy?"

"You wear their faces. You walk with things that wanna kill you. How is that a way to live?"

"How is this a way to live? Walls can't protect you."

"You haven't seen our walls," he challenged. "We've fought for this place. Lost it and rebuilt it. We're stronger now. This is a good place. With good people... I think you might be good too."

"You can tell that from... what? The few minutes we've been talking. You don't know if I'm being honest."

"Are you?" he asked.

And she instantly retorted, "Are you?"

He opened his mouth to tell her yes, but he couldn't, because that would have been a lie. He was sure, she'd just been deflecting, throwing his question back in his face. But the fact of the matter was that he hadn't been honest, or not completely so. "No."

She seemed thrown by his response.

"I– I haven't lied to you... but I– my bio dad, Mike, it wasn't walkers who killed him. Not just... when everything happened, he was on drugs. Guess he was tryna cope, I don't know." Memories of Mike were blurry. He remembered him in little glimpses, the same ones every time with new little details reemerging on occasion.

"Where we were," he went on. "The camp got overrun. He was high that night and my mom had to make a choice between him and me. She chose me." The day his mother had told him, he hadn't known how to act. He was thankful for what she'd done, but it felt wrong to say it aloud. And that guilt competed with the guilt of his life being spared for another—no matter the circumstance. But after the night she'd sat him down, and told him of what she'd had to do, they'd never spoken of it again.

"Your mom, she... killed your dad?" the girl asked, scooting away from the wall to sit in front of him.

He stared down at the fingers he played with. "Yeah... she had to do it."

"You saw her do it?"

"No. I was hidden away. The dead were after us and there was only room for one of them."

"She admitted it?"

"Yeah. A couple of years ago, she sat me down and told me. I think it was for herself too. I don't think she's forgiven herself for it–" Andre's words stopped cold when he heard sniffling.

He looked up and saw her trying to clean the mess of fresh tears steadily leaking from her eyes and trickling into her lap, as her body shook uncontrollably. "You're lucky." Her voice trembled. "You didn't have to see that. I wish I hadn't. I wish it didn't play on a loop in my mind every day. She says she did it for me, too. That my dad was weak. That he'd get us killed. That I made him weak. But my dad, he was a good man... she tried to make me forget... I believed it. I fuckin' believed her." She shook her head, as she nursed the marks on her arm, which he could see more clearly now that she was closer. They were fresh and surrounded by others that looked like they'd already healed.

"Did she do that to you? Does she hurt you?"

She shoved her sleeves down, covering her arms.

He scooted closer to the cell. "It doesn't have to be like that. Not if you don't want it to be. This place is safe. There's a whole community here. You don't have to go back to her. We can protect you."

"You don't know my mom."

"But I know mine. If you tell us what you know, they'll help you," he urged.

She wiped at her cheeks with her sleeve and when she looked up, her gaze was penetrating. Like she was trying to read into his thoughts. Their eyes had been dancing around each other the entire time they'd been talking; he would look at her, and she'd look away, and vice versa. But this time, Andre fought the urge to drop his stare; he instinctively felt that she needed to see his eyes to know if he was really someone to trust.

When she finally looked away, Andre felt almost exhausted from the intensity of the moment. But it was worth it when she reached to the side and picked up the sandwich. He watched her unwrap it and take a bite, her eyes slipping shut as she chewed like it was her first food in years. She caught him watching her. "Sorry." She gave him a wavering smile. "The jelly's good."

"Yeah, I know. We can't keep it in our house."

She took another bite and chewed slowly, before saying, "Lydia... my name is Lydia."

Michonne sat on the exam table of the infirmary that night, her eyes bouncing between the face of an unusually silent Aoki, who stood in front of her, and the cut on her arm the woman was bandaging up.

Earlier that night, she'd spent a few hours with Lydia, listening to her talk about what she'd been through with her mother, what she knew about her people, and where they could be found. Michonne had walked away from the conversation thinking only one thing, they had to die. Rick and the Council had agreed.

At the moment, Abraham was preparing the full force of the Union Army to attack the base in the morning, and out of respect, Michonne had let Lydia know what they were planning. She could have sworn she saw regret in the girl's face, there was no way anyone could blame her, though. Her mother—Alpha—was a monster, but she was still all Lydia had left in the world.

It wasn't until Michonne had gotten home and had taken off her denim button-down—the one that used to be Rick's but was now unofficially hers—that she'd noticed the deep cut she figured happened during the fight the night before.

"Done," Aoki said, rolling the sleeve of Michonne's shirt down. She picked up the bandage wrappers from the bed and turned to walk to the trash. "I'll send you home with some gel and extra gauze. Just remember to keep it clean and change it twice a day for at least the next week," she spouted almost robotically.

Doctoring was old hat for Aoki now, after the past eight years of dealing with more complex ailments and injuries than a cut, but her bedside manner was ordinarily more pleasant. "You alright?"

She walked back to Michonne and handed her the wound care items. "I'm okay," she replied, hopping onto the bed across from her.

"You're not. What's on your mind?"

Aoki fell onto her back and exhaled. "I'm pregnant."

"What?!" She was about to give her congratulations, but Aoki's entire demeanor told Michonne that it might not be the right word for the moment. Aoki was a different person from who she'd been when she walked through the gates of Alexandria almost nine years before. But becoming a mother for the first time, Michonne knew from experience, was a terrifying feat. She jumped off the bed and moved to sit on the one next to Aoki. She lowered onto her back, so they were lying side by side. They both were quiet and staring up at the ceiling for a long time, before Michonne settled on saying, "You and Benjamin are gonna be great parents." She looked over at Aoki, whose eyes were shut, and saw a tear break through her closed lids.

Aoki quickly wiped it away. "Thanks. It's just sucky timing."

"How's that?"

Aoki turned her head toward Michonne. "All these years we've been safe here, got me thinking that this is how it would be forever. Those freaks who killed Jesus– it's just a reminder that despite all the good people we've found there are still just as many psychos out there."

"That's pretty damn depressing."

"It's true. How am I supposed to bring a child into this?"

The irony of the question was that not only had Michonne asked it to herself when the twins had been born, but also when Andre had. Being a lawyer, she'd seen some crazy shit; the world had long since been a scary place. "You know, after Jocelyn... I wanted to lock this place down. I mean hell, if I couldn't trust someone I'd known for all those years, someone who was like a sister, who could I trust?" Michonne shifted to her side and propped her head up on her hand. "You know what Rick told me?"

"What?"

"He said the only way we come back. Really come back, is when we let our mercy win over our fear... it took me a while to realize it, but he was right. And it's not about being naive about what the world is, but we can't let it keep us scared to live. Your baby has an entire village. Anyone or anything who tries to get to it has all of us to get through first."

Aoki looked up at the ceiling, before placing her hands over her flat stomach. "Yeah... okay. You ready to be a grandmother, then?"

"You know I think Auntie Michonne has a better ring to it."

She laughed lightly. "Ezekiel said the same thing to Ben. His exact words were, 'I ain't old enough to be a grandpa.'"

"Ditto."

"But for real... Ben and I wanted to ask if you'd be the godmother."

"Are you serious?"

"As soon as we found out, it was the first thing we talked about. If anything happened to us, you and Rick and Ezekial are who we would want to take care of our baby."

"Of course, we will."

"Can she stay with us?" Andre asked Rick and Michonne, from where he stood leaning on the countertop, in front of them, as they washed the dishes from dinner.

Rick rinsed off the plate in his hands and handed it to Michonne, who was drying, before he plunged his hands back into the soapy water for another. "After Abe and his men get back, tomorrow, we'll see."

"So we're gonna leave her in that cell? Can't she sleep here tonight? She can have my room."

Michonne set the dried plate on the stack of others. "I think RJ might have a thing or two to say about that. Be patient. She has a mattress down there. She'll be fine. You understand you can't go near her without us, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And that what you did today was reckless and–"

"We don't get to be reckless. I know. I'm sorry... And I'm sorry for the stuff I told her, about Mike. It just came out." Rick knew listening to the conversation had been tough for Michonne.

Andre had handled the truth of Mike's death with a grace that made Rick proud to call himself his father, but he knew Michonne still had trouble dealing with the idea that Andre had all but disowned Mike. He, too, hated that Mike's worst moment defined who he was in Andre's eyes; after all, he'd been a good father at one point. He just wished the good times hadn't been diluted by the worst.

Michonne took her time drying her hands off with her dishcloth. "You were being honest with her. It's all good. How about tomorrow, when I go deliver her breakfast, you come too."

"For real?"

"Yeah. She likes you."

Andre stood up straight, his face went slack, serious. "You think–" His voice cracked. "You think she likes me?"

Oh, God. Rick knew that look.

"Yeah," Michonne replied, trying to hide her smile.

"Why do you say that– did she say something? Or you just think–"

"Alright. Easy." Michonne threw the dishcloth at his head, but he snatched it before it could hit him. "Go read your sister her bedtime story, before she comes down here."

"Okay." He stepped around the counter and approached his mom—who he was nearly taller than—and wrapped his arms around her. "Love you."

"I love you, sweetheart."

"Night, Dad," Andre said as he passed by. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

(—Thursday—)

"Rick. Michonne. Come in."

Michonne startled awake at the voice coming through the walkie-talkie on her nightstand. Not even bothering to open her eyes, she blindly reached her arm out and knocked it over. "Ugh." She scooted up on her bed and managed to grab hold of it. "Yeah," she groaned into the speaker, then cleared her throat. "Michonne here."

She glanced over at the other side of the bed. Rick lay on his back with his arm around Taj's shoulder, who lay with her head resting on her father's chest and her arm draped over his middle.

Michonne turned the volume down, just before she heard, "It's Laura. You two need to get to the rec hall now. The rest of the council's already on their way."

Michonne looked at the clock. 4:30 AM. She sat up—nothing good came over the walkie-talkies before sunrise. "We're on our way." She set the radio on the nightstand and slipped into her sweatshirt, before walking around the front of the bed to Rick's side. "Rick," she whispered, close to his ear, trying not to wake Taj.

"Huh? What?"

"Shhh... the council's meeting."

He didn't need any more information. She watched him gently lift Taj's arm and slide out from underneath her embrace, settling her on his pillow.

Lydia wasn't sure what to think. One minute Andre's mom was talking to her like she wanted to help and the next, two soldiers were hauling her up from off of the mattress of the prison cell, dragging her up the basement steps, before they blindfolded and threw her into the back of a wagon.

As the wagon bumped over rocky road, she came to the conclusion that she'd been a fool for trusting Andre and his mom. Alpha had been right...

Her knees knocked now, as two hands gripped her cuffed arms tightly, towing her up an incline. Were they on a hill? "What's going on?" she asked, for the tenth time, since she'd been pulled from her sleep. The figures walking beside her said nothing.

She nearly tripped when they came to a full stop.

It was quiet. The darkness paired with the silence had her insides quivering.

"I am Alpha!" A violent shudder ran through her body, from her head to her toes when she heard the distant voice that haunted not only her night but also her day. "And I only want one thing from you. My daughter."

This had to be a hallucination or a dream. The last time Alpha had called her 'daughter' was right before she'd killed her father. She closed her eyes and squeezed and when she opened them again, the blackness was still all she saw.

"We don't want any trouble," A man yelled, from right next to her. She recognized that voice, but she couldn't place it. "We came for our people. You give 'em over, you get her back."

What?! They were giving her up? No. I can't go back.

They'd promised her a new life. Safe away from her mother's wooden whip and emotional assaults. And what Alpha would do to her, for getting herself caught... she didn't know if she could survive that.

"Please," she whispered, to the mystery man next to her. "Don't do this."

"Our people?" he yelled, ignoring her plea. "Where are they?"

She tuned an ear, but all she heard was feet shuffling.

A few moments passed and Alpha said, "We do this at the same time."

The blindfold slid off her face and Lydia's eyes darted all over. She knew this place. Providence Valley, Alpha's base was only two miles away. And there was Alpha, standing at the head of a pack of her people, staring directly at Lydia. It wasn't everyone, not by far. Two men she didn't recognize stood with Alpha and her people with knives to their throats.

Her head whipped to the left. Michonne. And to the right. Andre's dad—she couldn't remember his name. She looked behind them. A line of soldiers standing at attention, each with a bow and arrows slung behind their backs. She recognized the Indian woman and the red-haired man from the interrogation, in the lineup.

"Michonne, please. You can't do this."

Michonne stepped in front of Lydia and stuck the key into the lock of her handcuffs. "Don't say anything," Michonne whispered, so quietly Lydia could barely hear. "When I release you, walk slowly. You hear me yell, you drop to the ground. You understand? Don't answer, just look at me if you do."

Lydia lifted her head and their eyes locked. She had so many questions but fought the urge to ask. And Michonne loosened her wrists and moved away from Lydia too quickly to even get one out if she wanted to.

"Go," Andre's dad said. Lydia looked over at him. He gave her an oh-so-slight nod. The gesture and the look in his eyes seemed to say, "It's gonna be okay." Or maybe she was reading into what she needed from him at that moment.

Lydia took a step toward Alpha and then another, at the same time the two men she didn't recognize walked in the direction of Andre's people.

Her mother maintained eye contact as she walked, a small smirk played on her lips.

When she was nearly halfway there, she looked over her shoulder at Michonne, who stood watching her. What the hell is going on?

Lydia turned back to Alpha. Only a few more steps and she'd be back in her mother's clutches and she was sure Alpha wouldn't let her go again. She contemplated making a run for it, into the woods. On her own was better than back with them. It only took seconds to commit to fleeing, and right as she was about to go, she heard Michonne yell, "Alden. DJ. Down! Now!"

Lydia dropped to the ground and heard arrows whiz by, flying above her head. Then she heard an imposing stampede of feet running, it sounded like a herd of galloping horses. She looked up toward Alpha and her people and saw a scatter of them lying on the ground with arrows in their heads. Holy shit. Her eyes darted around: more soldiers ran in from out of the woods—these ones had guns. Alpha's people fled and some of them stood their ground. But it was a losing battle from the start; guns trumped machetes.

A hand grabbed her arm. "Let's go!" She looked up and saw it was Michonne who was plucking her off the grass.

They fled the chaos of the fight, dashing toward the woods in the opposite direction. Once they reached the edge, where the trees began, Lydia stopped and looked back. The soldiers were ruthlessly taking her people out.

And when she quickly scanned the commotion, she noticed Alpha was nowhere to be found.

"I'm sorry we had to do it that way," Michonne said to Lydia as they walked back through the gates of the community, a few hours later. "We needed it to be believable."

The entire way back, the slain faces of the people she'd walked with for the majority of her life played on a loop in her mind. She felt like a shit person for not feeling an ounce of remorse for their loss. But she'd learned early on that any of Alpha's people could be thrown away at any moment; one small slip-up got your throat slit. In the beginning, she'd had her heart broken too many times, and she learned to stop risking the heartbreak. So, she'd never really felt a connection to any of them, including Alpha. The day her father died, her "mother" had died that day right alongside him.

She wasn't sure this version of the woman she'd called mom even loved her and she couldn't be certain that if she fucked up royally enough, Alpha wouldn't make her a guardian too, as a display of her own strength. "Why didn't you just give me up?" She asked Michonne. "She would have left without a fight."

"We don't take those kinds of chances anymore."

"Then why am I still here?"

"Because you're different. You're not like Alpha." Michonne stopped, at the bottom of the steps of a house. "This is your new home. But we don't force anyone to live in our community. So you need to make a decision right now. Alpha's still out there and I'd understand if you wanted to go back. But we're not letting up, we're gonna find her. And if you're with her when that happens, there's nothing I can do. But if you choose to stay. That's it. You're with us. We'll protect you."

She stared at the house's blue door. No one had ever given her a choice.

"The woman's Houdini. We went to the camp Lydia told us about. All that was left were carcasses and skins," Carl listened to Abraham say, that night. "They're in the wind."

He stood in the recreation hall, Priya beside him, with the other council members standing around the room.

"Lydia said what Alpha brought with her was only half of them," his mom said. "There's also the herd she has stashed somewhere.

Carl sighed. "We're not in the clear. What does that mean for the fair?" For years, Ezekiel had been proposing it to the council, but they'd never been in a place to stop, for even just a day, to put on an event of that magnitude. But this year, the community was in the best place it had ever been in.

They'd steadily grown a hundredfold each year, though, and the streets were built too narrow to house everything they had planned for the fair. He and Ezekiel had spent months scouting locations and a few miles down the road, they'd found a high school football stadium that was the perfect size.

"We can't risk putting our people on the road," Aaron said. "When we don't know where Alpha's hiding."

"I got a squad of my best men out there now," Abraham assured. "Covering every inch of this walker-infested city. They will not return until they have Alpha on a platter. Trust and believe."

"Alright," Glenn chimed in, from where he stood next to his pregnant wife. "So, are we gonna do it?"

The group looked around at one another, each waiting for someone else to speak first. It'd been years since they'd encountered a formidable foe. It was easy to say, in theory, that they were now strong enough to go up against anyone or anything. But Alpha was more unhinged than anyone they'd ever encountered.

"Look," Ezekiel, who'd been standing off to the side listening to the exchange, stepped forward. "We've been preparing for this for months. All we've done to build this place up, and make it what it is, it's time to enjoy the fruits of our labor. Our people need this. We need this. Everything's in place." He looked around at the unconvinced faces and when his eyes reached Carl's, he gave Ezekiel an encouraging nod. "Come on. We can't let this stop us."

"It's not worth the potential lives of our people," Gabriel added.

"Abraham?" His dad asked, from where he stood beside his mom. "Can we get everyone there and back safely?"

Abraham looked at Priya. She thought for a moment, before nodding.

Abraham turned back to his dad. "The stadium's secure. We were already prepared to block off every entrance but one. No one in or out without our say-so. We'll put snipers in the press box. They'll have eyes for miles. The hardest part will be the transport. Six hundred people traveling..." He blew out an exasperated breath. "But I think I can make it work."

"It'll need to be all hands on deck," Priya added. "All one-twenty of us. The ones who were off aren't gonna like it." It was only the newer recruits who had been scheduled to guard the transports and the stadium. Carl had been looking forward to enjoying the day with Priya, but it was a small price to pay.

"They'll get over it," Abraham asserted.

"No one travels without an escort," Michonne said. "And we use the guns for this. Every soldier gets one." Years ago, his parents had come home from a scavenging trip with a truck full of firearms, after coming across a traveling carnival behind a school, with hundreds of rifle-bearing walkers.

"What about ammunition?" his mom asked Abraham.

"Eugene's crew just made a fresh batch. We're good."

"Give them first to the soldiers. Any leftovers go to the people. Everyone gets at least three rounds."

"Then it's settled." Ezekiel spread his arms out wide. "The fair is on!" he boomed.

"Mom!" Carl called after Michonne when the council dispersed. She paused by the door of the recreation hall, which the other Council Members were filing out of, and he made his way over to her.

"Hey! What's up?"

"Connie, Kelly, and Luke are still–"

"Who?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

"We found them out there before you guys came home from Oceanside. They've been in the holding house this whole time. You've been so busy. I never got to tell you."

She tilted her head to the side. "You brought them in?"

Carl straightened his back and nodded. "Yeah. I apologize for not following protocol, but they were in trouble and–"

"What do you think?"

"What?"

"You talked to them, right? Got a feel for who they were?"

"Yeah..."

"And?"

He didn't even have to think about it. "I feel like they're all one of us."

She set her hand on his arm. "Then we'll trust your assessment of them, for now. Put them in the empty house. After the fair, they'll go before the council, but they shouldn't stay in holding any longer."

Rosita balanced a tray of food on her forearm and knocked at the spare bedroom door with her free hand. "Lydia?" she called. Michonne had dropped the girl off earlier that day and she'd stowed away behind the closed door. "I have dinner for you."

Rosita waited. She didn't hear anything, then tried the knob, not expecting it to give. But it opened. When she pushed into the room, she found Lydia sitting by the window, staring out at the burnt orange early evening. "I'm not hungry," Lydia said.

"I doubt that's true. Michonne said you haven't eaten since yesterday." She set the tray on the nightstand and looked over at the untouched bed. "Did you get any rest?"

Lydia kept her eyes on the window.

Rosita dropped down to sit on the bed. "Heard what happened out there... are you having second thoughts?"

"She's my mom," she said absently, still in a world of her own. "She's all I have left– I know, she was hurting me, but she... she's my mom."

"Do you wanna go back?"

"I don't know."

"I get that. I'd give everything to have my mom back. But, if I know anything, it's that family doesn't always have to be blood. And if you'll give it a try, you might find that this place isn't so bad." Rosita stood. "Eat something please," she said, before walking out the door.

All that was left on Lydia's plate were scraps of rib bones and sauce remnants. She fought the urge to lick her plate clean and instead set it down on the nightstand, and stared at the bed for a long moment before making the decision to peel back the fresh covers and slide under.

Lydia sank into the mattress that was softer than anything she'd slept on in years. A definite step up from the hard, cold ground.

She lowered her head onto the pillow and her eye slipped closed almost immediately; her body was utterly exhausted and maybe not just from the events of the past few days. She felt herself fading in and out when she heard a high-pitched tapping on her window.

Lydia shot up, and her ears perked like a dog hearing a whistle.

Another pang against the pane. She scrambled out of the bed and went to the window. She flinched at the pebble hurled toward her, then squinted at the darkness, through the glass. Andre stood below. Lydia pushed the window open and stuck her head out. "What the hell are you doing?" She whispered.

"I wanted to check on you."

"You shouldn't be here, it's late."

"Are you okay? Everyone's treating you alright?"

Was everyone treating her okay– what? What kind of question is that? "Uh... yeah, I guess… I'm fine."

Andre's eyebrows knitted together. He didn't believe her. "Would you tell me if you weren't?"

"No. Probably not."

"You can."

Unsure of how to respond to that, she nodded and moved to slide the window down.

"Wait," Andre said when it was half closed.

She paused, pushing it back up.

Andre's eyes dropped to his feet, for a moment, before he brought them back up to the window. "Will you come to the fair with me tomorrow?"

"The fair?"

"Yeah, you know, candy apples and funnel cakes... games. You wanna come?"

"I don't know..."

"Sleep on it. The caravan leaves at nine. I'll come by tomorrow." He jogged away before she could answer.

(—Friday—)

"Guess what today is?!" Michonne heard Taj's high-pitched voice yelling before she felt the end of her bed dip. She peeled her eyes open and looked back, peering over Rick's shoulder, at Taj and RJ jumping on the end of their bed.

"It's fair day! Woot woot!" RJ, who Michonne was fairly certain had been influenced into this by his sister, shouted. She pictured Taj running up the stairs to recruit her brother for the shenanigans and laughed to herself.

Rick groaned but Michonne felt a smile on his lips when he kissed her neck. "Excuse me..." he said into her ear, but his voice was loud enough for the twins to hear. "While I take care of these little rascals."

"Go get 'em, Daddy." She released his arms from her grasp.

He burst up from under the covers and grabbed each twin's arm. They screamed and giggled as their father yanked them down onto the bed and tickled them until they were crying, "Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!"

"Alright, Daddy. I think they've learned their lesson."

Rick whipped his head in her direction, a mischievous smile on his face. "You think so?"

The twins turned to face her, a faux pleading expression on both of their faces.

Michonne scrunched her nose. "Maybe just one more tickle."

"No!" they screamed as Rick went in again.

He let up and rolled onto the other side of the bed, the twins in between the two of them—Taj next to him and RJ beside her. "Can we go now, Mom?" RJ asked. "I wanna set up my booth."

Most of the vendors for the fair were adults, but Ezekiel—RJ's biggest fan, who'd also commissioned a drawing of a tiger from her son, in honor of Shiva—had extended an invitation to Andre to do caricatures of the fair patrons.

Her son had been practicing for months and even enlisted Michonne as his assistant.

"The vendor caravans leave at seven, baby. Me and you will go. And Taj you'll come with Daddy and Andre."

"Why can't I go with you guys?" Taj whined.

"There's not enough room in the caravan."

"Aw, man. Why does RJ get to do everything just because he can draw stupid pictures."

"Shut your face," RJ quipped back, nudging her away from him.

"Alright. Don't start, you two," Rick chided.

"And don't push your sister," Michonne said. "Both of you go get dressed."

The twins scrambled out of the bed and raced each other toward the door. "Hey!" Michonne called. She propped up onto her forearms.

They stopped in their tracks.

She gave them her most serious expression. "Both of you stay close by Daddy and me, Okay? No exceptions."

"Yes ma'am," they replied in unison, before turning to run out of the room.

Michonne dropped back onto the bed, with a sigh, and rubbed her hands down her face. "Why does this feel like a terrible idea?"

"You wanna cancel?"

"No. That would be saying that everything Abraham put into building up the troops was for nothing. They've been preparing to protect this place, these people."

Rick scooted back to her side of the bed and set his hand on her middle. "We're ready to defend our people. This place. More so than ever before... you did that."

She ran her hand through his hair and rested it on his beard. "We did."

"So let's enjoy it."

"Okay."

Michonne sat in the back of the packed tight, ten-seater horse-drawn carriage—they'd recovered it from an Amish community years ago. Three more of the same carriage followed behind, with soldiers forming a perimeter around them. Her Katana was on her back, her rifle was in her lap, and her eyes were scanning the woods on either side.

"Halt," ordered Priya, from the front of the caravan. She held her hand up and the entire caravan slowed.

Michonne poked her head through the glassless window and watched, her heart pounding as the soldiers walking alongside them hurried to the front, to flank Priya as she moved toward the approaching walkers. "Form up and watch their hands!" Priya yelled.

She watched them take out the dead and held her breath, waiting for one of the walkers to fight back. It wasn't until Priya and the others moved back to the perimeter spots, that Michoone was able to relax her shoulders.

"Let's go," Priya commanded, and the caravan moved again.

They reached the stadium without incident and Michonne held RJ's hand as Ezekiel and Jerry escorted the group onto the bright green turf.

"Woah!" RJ remarked, looking around.

"I know, right?" In one end zone of the field was a stage with a massive projector screen on it. Set in the middle were tables and chairs enough for the entire community and on either sideline were wood-crafted, market stall booths with red and white striped awnings.

"Mom!" Michonne turned and saw Carl running toward her and RJ.

"Hey!" They hugged.

Carl bent down to give his brother a hug. "Hey, RJ! You ready?"

"Yup!" RJ held up his art kit. "I sharpened all my pencils last night."

"This is amazing, Carl. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks." He looked around, with a satisfied expression. "We worked hard on it. Come on. I'll show you guys to your booth."

"Andre. Taj! Let's go!" Rick yelled, standing at the front door, sliding his machete into its holster, before clipping his walkie-talkie onto his belt. He was technically off duty, Carl had left him and Michonne out of the planning for the fair. Their son had been adamant that he and Michonne deserved to sit back and enjoy the day, as opposed to managing things like they always did.

He turned when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Andre came hustling down, two by two, in jeans and a nice white dress shirt that Rick wasn't aware he had in his closet. "Hey! You look nice."

"You think so?" He did a little spin. "It's not too much."

"Not at all. You look great."

"Is it cool if Lydia comes with us?"

Ah, he thought. It all makes sense now. "Yeah. That's fine."

"Good, 'cause I might have already invited her."

"Hurry and go get her. The caravan leaves in a few…"

"Okay." He opened the door.

"And hey."

Andre stopped and turned to face him. "Yes."

Rick placed his hands on his son's shoulder and squeezed. "I'm proud of you. For watching out for her the way you have. You're a good man."

"Thanks, Dad. Does that mean I'm not grounded?"

"No," he laughed. "You are still very much grounded, but after the fair. Enjoy the day."

"Okay. It was worth a try."

Only two hours into the fair and Rick was already begging his daughter to sit for a minute; Taj wasn't hearing it. She'd dragged him to every single booth. His hands and arms were filled; he held a half-eaten candy apple, an oversized stuffed pig she'd won playing some sort of floating duck matching game, and an even larger stuffed bear he'd won for her doing the ring toss.

"Oh, Daddy! I wanna dunk Eugene." Taj pointed toward the end of the football field. Eugene sat propped up on the dunk tank pedestal, dry as the day was long, antagonizing the contestants.

"We better go get in line." There had to be at least a hundred people already waiting for their turn to dunk the man. "Come on, let's go. I wanna try too." He'd had a pretty solid arm back in high school.

"Sweet!"

Rick followed behind Taj to the end of the long line.

His daughter, who'd never met a stranger, chatted with one of her schoolmates as they stood waiting. He took the time to look around at the busy fairgrounds, searching for the rest of his family.

His eyes first found Carl, who was serving food. He'd barely seen his son, who had been running around taking care of things all day. He stared at him for a moment, baffled that the man he now was, had once been Taj and RJ's age. Carl looked so much like Lori it was scary. Every time he looked at his eldest son, it was as if she were staring right back at him. He was grateful, though, because he didn't want to forget her.

Rick easily found RJ and he smiled at the sight of him sitting behind his easel in front of his booth, drawing Coco and Rosita, a long line behind them. He and Taj had already stopped by his booth, it had been their first. Rolled up and stuffed in Rick's back pocket was the drawing RJ had done of himself and Taj.

He took a moment to admire his wife, who stood behind the table of RJ's booth, sharpening his pencils. Sensing his eyes on her, Michonne looked up and caught him staring. She gave him a bright smile and waved.

He returned the smile and winked.

Rick found Andre last, walking with Lydia; the two had ditched them almost as soon as they arrived.

Lydia hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, as her eyes darted around the stadium—she'd never been around so many of the living. She walked beside Andre, who kept asking her if she wanted to do whatever activity was in the booth they'd been passing by; she had yet to say yes.

"You wanna get some food?" He asked as they approached the buffet line.

"No. I'm not hungry," she lied.

Andre deflated.

She hated that she was ruining his day. But, try as she might, she didn't know how to be around normal people. "Hey, you should go hang out with your friends. I think I'm gonna head back on the next caravan home.

"Are you feeling okay?" He looked around the stadium. "Aoki's around here somewhere. She can look at you."

"No. It's not that?"

Andre frowned. "What is it?"

His constant concern made her uncomfortable. It hadn't been since her dad, that someone had been genuinely affected by how she was doing. "This only happens once a year right– you should be enjoying yourself. You don't have to babysit me."

"You think that's what this is?" Emotion crept into his voice. "It's not."

"Then what is it?" She looked up at him.

Andre stared down at her. "I... I like you, Lydia," he admitted. "I'm trying to get to know you."

Looking into his eyes, everything around faded away. She couldn't hear anything but her heart beating. They stayed that way for what could have only been seconds but felt like forever. Her instincts told her to lean forward and give him an invitation to come closer, but her body wouldn't move. She was stuck in her spot and unsure how to break the moment.

"Andre!" They both jumped at the sound of his name.

Andre cleared his throat. "Hey, King Zeke." She watched him shake hands and slap backs with a tall man with dreadlocks.

He turned to her. "I haven't had the pleasure. Andre, introduce me to your friend."

"Lydia. This is King Ezekial. He's a legend. He had a pet Tiger."

"And now I take care of less intimidating animals."

"Yeah. He runs the Union Farm."

He held his hand out. "Most people just call me Zeke nowadays. The king part's ancient history."

Lydia slid her hand into the man's large one. "Hi."

"Lydia's one of us now."

"Glad to have you join us, Miss Lydia. I expect to see you both front and center for the movie."

"You're showing a movie?"

"What do you think that huge screen is for?"

"Have you ever seen one?" Andre asked.

"Yeah, when I was a kid, but..." she trailed off. She and her father had practically lived in the local theater, during the summer series—watching all the old classics. She shook herself out of the memory and wondered what her father would think of this place. She couldn't remember enough about him to know, but she was sure he'd want the best for her. And in this world, all of this—this fair, this community, these people—maybe this was it.

"What movie?" she asked.

Michonne sat on the blanket their family shared, leaning against Rick's side. RJ lounged against Rick's outstretched legs and Taj leaned on hers. Families were dispersed, on their own blankets, all across the lawn in front of the projector screen.

Michonne felt a soft kiss on her neck and then a nip at the tip of her earlobe. She turned her head in, to give Rick the reprimanding look she reserved for the kids. "Our children are right there."

"They're not even paying attention to us." He kissed her.

She pulled away before the kiss could get out of hand.

Rick turned back to the screen, and watched for a minute before asking, "Who chose this movie?"

Michonne laughed. "Carl said it was the only one they could find that was appropriate for the kids." Monsters Inc. did seem like a controversial choice, considering the state of the world, but Taj and RJ's eyes were glued to the screen and the cartoon monsters didn't seem to bother them one bit.

Michonne absently picked pieces of turf out of Taj's hair. She was sure it was from when her daughter, Coco, and Nari had been tumbling and trying out flips on the grass. "It's been a great day."

"Yeah," Rick agreed, looking out at all the families. "Definitely up there in my book."

"Mine too." She looked over at Andre, who sat on a blanket, suspiciously close to Lydia. "Look at him. Can you believe our son is on a date, right now?"

"No. You should have seen him on the way. Haven't heard him talk so much since he was little."

"A beautiful girl will do that to you."

"Mmm-hmm... " He leaned over and pressed another kiss to her lips.

"Ugh... you guys are so gross," Taj said, looking up at them with a smile.

Michonne took her face in her hands and rained kisses down on it.

Most of the town spent the night in tents at the stadium and camping out with his family was the part Rick had been looking forward to the most. He and Michonne shared a tent big enough for all their kids, except for Carl, who was with Priya. Lydia stayed in a tent with Rosita and Coco.

Rick wasn't prepared for how much it reminded him of the early days: the Atlanta Camp and The Greene Farm. Those days felt like another life, just as his life before had in the beginning.

He woke in the middle of the night and looked over his family, who rested soundly. It had been hard to square for the longest; the world had gone to shit, but he'd hit the jackpot.

The next morning, everyone tore down their tents and prepared to head back home. He and Michonne agreed to let Andre stay with Lydia to help with the clean-up efforts.

(—Saturday—)

"Michonne. Rick." Priya's voice woke her that night. She reached out for the walkie-talkie and checked the time. 2:00 AM. Shit.

Minutes later, she and Rick were standing in Eugene's engineering shop in front of the tracker monitor screen, with Eugene, Abraham, and Priya.

"It was the last of the clean-up crew. They were supposed to be here an hour ago," Priya said, in a worried tone Michonne had never heard from the ordinarily unflappable woman. "They were supposed to be right behind us."

She looked at Rick; Carl and Andre were in that wagon.

"We've been radioing them, but nothing," Abraham said.

Michonne looked up at the screen and saw a blinking dot. "Who's tracker is that?"

"It's DJs. He was the only soldier in the wagon."

"The tracker's showing they left the stadium. But took a detour. It looks like they've been in that same spot for the past thirty minutes."

"How many others were on the wagon?" she asked.

"Ten total," Priya replied. "DJ was their escort."

"And none of them have arrived back?"

"Not one."

"Eugene, give us the coordinates," she said. "Abraham, get a squad together. We don't know what we're walking into."

They found the covered wagon capsized on the side of the road. "This way," Daryl said, looking down at the tracks on the ground. He led them into the woods. They walked in a line—Daryl, Abraham, Michonne, Rick, and Priya—with the other soldiers flanking them.

This felt wrong. It had since the moment he'd heard the news, and the wagon in the road cemented in his heart that this was far from a coincidence.

Daryl held his hand up, when they reached a tree, planted just a few yards away from a cliff-hanging. "Rick, look."

He walked past the others to stand next to Daryl, in front of the tree, where one of their walkie-talkies sat next to the blinking tracker. Fuck.

Rick glanced back at Michonne, whose fallen face said she was thinking the same.

He grabbed the walkie-talkie off of the ground and held it to his mouth. "What the hell is this?" He spat into it.

After a few moments of silence, over the radio came Alpha's voice. "You just had to give me my daughter. No one else had to die."

"Where are our people?" He worked hard to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"What's your name?"

"Where are our people?" he repeated in a low growl.

"Do you speak for them?"

"I'm not playing these fucking games with you. You tell us where our people are, or I swear to God–"

"We'll get to that. But first, take a few steps toward the end of that cliff... I'll wait."

Rick looked over at the cliff and hesitated, before walking toward it. As he got closer, he heard the dull droning. He reached the edge and looked down at the thousands of walkers milling about. "What is this?" he asked into the radio.

"The guardians you see down there, my people are among them, steering them. The only reason you and your community are alive is because I let you live. I could have taken out the lot of you while you were sleeping in that stadium. Or followed you back to your community and did it there. Either way, I just want you to know that I spared you."

"Where. Are. Our. People?" he asked once more, his fingers gripping the plastic of the walkie-talkie so tight, it could have broken at any second.

"I tried to make a deal with you. But you attacked us. So that deal is done. Here's a new one. The last I'll offer. We split the land. You don't cross into my territory and we'll do the same. If you decide this is an unfavorable agreement, you can try crossing me again, and I'll unleash my guardians. But I hope I won't have to do that. I believe we can live in harmony. So... the land between the broken interstates and the river to the south is mine. I've marked the border to the north. At the hill's peak. You'll see it as you leave."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You'll see it as you leave. Your friends will be waiting for you in a field due north."

Rick threw the walkie-talkie to the ground and ran. He vaguely heard footsteps chasing after him, but the most imposing sound was his swift footfalls, his legs moving faster than they ever had before.

He sprinted, dodging trees and not even bothering to take care of the walkers he passed. When he broke through the forest at the edge where the mini glade began, he spotted a figure sitting against a tree, to which it was tied. The person turned their head and Rick's chest tightened.

"Carl!" Priya picked up her speed and ran alongside Rick toward his son

When they reached Carl, Priya squatted in front of him, holding his face in her hands. "What happened?" She looked him over. "Are you okay? Are you bit?"

Rick went behind the tree and chopped the rope that kept Carl bound.

"Carl!" Michonne reached them and dropped down beside Priya. "Where's Andre?"

"I– I..." Carl tried standing but fell onto his hands and knees. Priya and Michonne lifted him up. Again, he tried but failed to stutter out a response through his busted and bleeding lips. All he could do was point ahead toward the hill.

Rick looked over and saw the shadow of a line of stakes on the hill peak.

He led the group toward it and squinted, trying to decipher what was hanging off of the poles. He kept walking and as he got closer and it got clearer, Rick made himself believe for a split second that it was a mirage, that there weren't really heads on those spikes.

Reality smacked him in the face when he examined the first head, that was growling at him. DJ.

Rick's knees wobbled and threatened to give out, as his eyes panned down the line. Each one hit him like a blow to his chest. Rodney... Addy... Frankie... Rosita... Nora... Ezekiel... Benjamin… Aoki...

"Andre!" He whipped his head over to the last stake at the sound of Michonne's guttural cry.

When his gaze settled on the head of his son, it took his brain a few seconds to process what his eyes were looking at and what Andre's head on that stake meant. Once his brain sent the message to his heart, he felt his bile rise.

Michonne. Oh no! She can't see this, he thought. This can't be the last thing she remembers of him. The thought snapped Rick out of his haze. He turned and ran to her. "No!" He spun her around and took her face in his hands. "Look at me! Just look at me!" he cried.

Michonne stared at him; thick water droplets steadily flowing down her face. She gasped for air, drowning in her tears.

Michonne melted to the ground and he went with her, holding her against his chest, through the cries that turned into screams.