"Michonne."

She walked towards the walker as Rick called out her name, and I watched as she reached over her shoulder to unholster her imaginary sword. When she realised that she didn't have it anymore, she laughed, shaking her head, before she swung the butt of her gun straight into its head.

Everyone continued and Michonne meshed back into the group. Abraham said something behind me that I missed, and I glanced back his way but he was not looking at me. It was like he was watching us or something.

Just in front of me, Martinez slowed his walking a little to keep in line with Tara. After helping us, he said a quick hello to Sasha and Tyreese who knew him back from when they joined Woodbury. None of them looked too impressed, but they weren't giving him the same glares that came from Glenn or Maggie when he said something out of line. They had much different experiences with him, I could tell.

"Nice to see you again," Martinez greeted.

Tara looked up, and I could see her trying to find Maggie in the crowd, when she saw that Maggie was far ahead, she answered in a quiet voice. "He told us you were dead."

"He tried hard to make that reality," Martinez promised.

Tara was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if this conversation with her would be just as short as the one with Sasha and Tyreese. "Why didn't you tell us what he was like?"

Martinez shook his head. "He had a kid with him, and then you guys showed up. I thought maybe he'd changed. I was wrong."

"Why didn't you come back and stop him," was her next question.

He let out a loud breath through his nose and met her eyes. "I should have."

Hearing him admit that for the first time was new. I looked away, trying to focus on something else so I could stop eavesdropping, but they continued to talk within earshot of me and I couldn't help but overhear what they were saying.

"Could you keep this between us, for now?" Tara questioned after a beat. Martinez glanced her way but eventually gave a nod. "It's just . . . Maggie doesn't know that I was there, yet. I'm going to tell her, soon, but I don't want to get this out there right now. Not after everything. Now isn't the time to hit the road if she doesn't want me here."

I saw where Tara was coming from because she was a part of the group that was responsible for the death of Hershel, but Maggie couldn't get mad at Tara for that. She agreed that Martinez could stay, or that she would at least be civil with him, and he had done far worse to her personally.

After a while, he spoke up. "You won't have to worry about it. She'll realise that you didn't do anything aside from being there."

"You don't know that."

"I do," he told her. "If there's anyone around here they aren't going to get used to, it's going to be me."

Tara glanced at him. "You did some bad shit for him, huh?"

"Yes I did," he gave a nod.

It wasn't strange that Martinez was telling Tara so much about who he was now when they knew each other beforehand. Maybe something to do with the Governor stopped him from bringing it up with her because he seemed so open about the mistakes he made and how much he regretted them. Martinez was forward, and he wasn't going to lie about what he'd done. I just wondered why Tara didn't know more already.

"If they don't accept you here," Tara started with uncertainty in her voice. "I won't let you leave on your own."

He looked her way and met her eyes, before shaking his head. "Thanks, but you shouldn't leave these people for me."

"It's too late," she told him with a smile. "It's been decided."

To seal the deal, she raised her fist to him and he looked at her for a moment. Instead, he shook his head, let out a breathy chuckle and fist-bumped her. I had to wonder whether she offered to join him because she didn't want him to be alone, or because she felt guilty about joining us.

I understood the feeling and spent the better half of the day trying not to think about what I did. Keeping my eyes forward, I continued walking in turn and tried forcing my mind to empty itself, quiet until we found somewhere that I could process it. It didn't work, though.

I remembered talking to Rick at the prison, what he said to me before my first kills. This is never going to get normal, not for you. I believed him for a little while, but I was ignoring what he said afterwards. It can't. He tried convincing himself that I wouldn't end up like that, that my getting used to the feeling of killing would be so absurd that the action would always be fictitious. I believed him because I could see how much it hurt him.

It wasn't like that anymore.

Rick was used to the idea of killing to protect his family—as he put it, that's who he was. All I could wonder was if it was becoming who I was. I killed to protect my family, same as him, but the action was becoming more and more prevalent.

It still hurt, and I was grateful for that. At the prison, I never really had a chance to focus on my dismay for the event until after the war, because I was so busy that what I was feeling didn't matter. Maybe it didn't matter now, everyone was still going through their problems, but it was very hard to ignore what I had done today. It was different to shooting people, I could feel what was happening to him as I did it. My stomach did a flip, and I cringed at the memory.

"Keep up," Glenn placed a hand on my shoulder, bringing me to walk at his speed.

I looked up at the people ahead of me and saw that I couldn't have been last in line. Looking behind me I saw Abraham and Rosita, sort of watching the group from their place at the back. I met eyes with Rosita for a second and looked ahead.

"I am."

Part of me wondered if they knew what I did, or had some semblance of it at least. Abraham did eventually thank Rick for saving them. It seemed like there was something more to it, but Abraham left it at that and tagged along with us as we walked through the woods.

"Are you okay?" Glenn asked.

I gave a nod. "Just thinking."

"About today?"

The question made me look away and hide behind my hair because it meant that he thought about it too. I could face up to the things I'd done, claim them as my own actions because they were mine. But when it came to Glenn, I wished I could be more like him. He hasn't killed anyone to my knowledge, and he didn't deserve to go through it. He was too good—unlike me.

"I know you don't like it," I got out, my voice quiet.

Glenn looked my way, concerned. "Like what?"

"Me—what I've done, today especially" I swallowed hard, shaking my head. "That I wanted to go back."

Glenn listened in a silence that extended long after I finished talking, and I hoped he would just ignore what I said and get back to walking.

"It's hard," he said finally. "It's hard seeing you do those things because you shouldn't have to. It shouldn't be your job to do any of that, but we keep getting forced into situations where you have no choice. I hate that. But it could never make me upset with you."

Glenn was too good for me. I swallowed back the lump in my throat and tried to think of something else to say that didn't consist of me thanking him for the next hour. "I just don't want to lose anyone again."

"Come here." Glenn placed an arm over my shoulder and pulled me into his side as we carried on walking. "You're not going to lose any of us. I'm not going anywhere, okay."

"Okay," I agreed quietly.

We stopped after a while, somewhere close to a stream so we could collect some water and eat. Rick took a second to speak to Martinez and Tara separately, letting them know that they could stay with us, from what I heard. After that he announced to the group that we would be leaving at sunrise, and that we could get some rest.

I didn't do anything when we settled down, and just took a seat a little away from the fire to give everyone room to warm up and cook. I was waiting for the water to boil because I needed to clean up, but Rosita beat me to it.

"Here," Rosita held out a rag, and I just looked at her. "Take it, you should wash that blood off."

I accepted the rag without a word and started wiping the already-soaked material across my forehead. It had been a few hours since Terminus that the blood had dried on my skin, and getting it off was more trouble than I expected. I pressed the rag firmly against the bridge of my nose, wincing when I remembered all the bruises in that area.

"I'm Rosita," she said, sitting on the ground beside me.

"Ace," I gave a nod.

"I know," she said. "Glenn spoke about you when we were on the road."

My mind went over responses that I could have said, but I already knew that Glenn had told them about me. Abraham knew my name the second words left my mouth, and it was already more than I knew about any of them. It made me feel weird—exposed.

"What did he say?" I asked, gauging the information they had on me.

Rosita shrugged. "Nothing bad, just who you were, that he missed you. He said you were a mechanic, I just didn't expect you to be so young. You're smart."

"My dad taught mechanics the second I could hold a wrench," I said. "Everything else I taught myself."

"Everything else?" Rosita raised a brow.

Something Glenn hadn't told them—my crafts. It didn't matter if they knew because for the time being these people were in our group. Whether we followed them to Washington DC or not was dependent on whether Rick agreed to do it. Abraham hadn't even asked, which could've meant that he didn't want us around.

My mouth opened and I stammered out a few words before finding a sentence. "I make stuff. I found survival and military guides a little while ago."

"What kind of stuff?"

"I made a smoke bomb once, when we were—" I stopped, not wanting to go into all the details. At war seemed a little straightforward; there were only so many circumstances that required me to make a smoke bomb, so Rosita knew what I meant.

Still, she ignored the unfinished story and asked, "You made it?"

"Sugar reacts with potassium nitrate to make smoke," I explained simply, ensuring that she knew I wasn't lying. "You can take the sugar out and just make a bomb instead, I guess."

Rosita nodded.

"I'm good with those things, too," she said finally. "I'm not make-a-bomb level, but I know what I'm doing. It's good that you're using these things to your advantage. And it's good that you aren't being treated like you don't know you're shit . . ." her eyebrows drew together at her wording, but she shook her head and glanced at me. "You know what I mean?"

People treated her the same way they treated me, I imagined. Working in the garage was hard with all the sexist groups that would come in and see me, demanding that I not be allowed to touch their cars; sometimes they just left. Some locals knew what I could do and let me work on their car of the books with my dad, but it still hurt not to be trusted by some of the people who came in.

"I worked in my dad's garage before all this. People don't normally want a teenage girl fixing their cars," I said simply. "I know what you mean."

"That happened to me a lot after everything started," she said. "Once I learned these things, I wanted to use them to help people but most guys always say that they'll handle it."

"Is it like that now?" I questioned.

"With Abraham?" She asked, and I nodded. "No. Abraham knows I can handle my shit."

That was strange for me to hear because after almost everything I said or did in the train car, he was contradicting me. Abraham didn't know me well enough to trust my skill, which I understood completely, but it was still annoying. How did Rosita get to the point with him where he knew what she was capable of if he wouldn't let me try anything?

I ignored it, glancing down at the rag.

"Did I get all of it?" I asked.

"Here," she said and held her hand out to take the rag, before scrubbing close to my hairline for a second. After a few seconds, she pulled away and her arms fell into her lap. "That should be it apart from your clothes."

I looked down, seeing only a few drops of blood on my clothes. The riot gear had covered most of it, and I wiped that down when I took it off for the night. We had no spare clothes, so I had to just live with what was left.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Fine," was my answer.

Leaning forward, I dried my face with the skin of my palms. It was good just feeling clean, enough to make me forget that I was sitting on the ground in the middle of the woods. The fire was doing a good job at keeping us warm, but I knew with darkness coming in it would have to be put out so we didn't draw any attention to ourselves.

I breathed out a sigh, and leaned forward, my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. It was late, I was getting tired and I hurt all over. I dreaded having to sleep on the ground, but I needed the sleep. Staying awake would keep me in pain, so I was waiting until I felt so tired that putting my head down would get me to sleep.

"Do you think you could show me how to do some of those things?" Rosita asked out of nowhere.

I twisted my neck and looked at her. "Which ones?"

"Whatever you know."

That didn't narrow it down one bit. I knew a lot of things, but the issue was if Rosita would be around for me to teach her anything she wanted to know. Abraham wanted to leave for DC, and my people were just glad that we found each other again.

"I know a bit," I said with a shrug.

Rosita gave a nod, placing her hands on the ground behind her and leaning back. "I think we could collaborate on some things. You know how to make a bomb, I think there's a chance I could find a way to trigger them remotely, trap them, whatever," she said. "Then again, you could probably work a lot of that out for yourself."

"Do you need a lot of those?" I questioned.

"You never know," she said. "Even just knowing how to make them could be good for something."

It made sense; I read the military guides as preparation and knew how to make bombs without knowing when I'd need to use one. It was a coincidence that we were in a war so quickly after that, but the point was that I knew what I was doing.

"I was thinking about something," I said. "Maybe making a putty and triggering it with a radio that had been modified; haven't worked out how yet, but could be a way of opening doors or defending yourself, taking out walkers in a choke point."

Rosita smiled wide. "That sounds awesome."

"I thought so," I smiled back. "I haven't thought of anything else though."

Making bombs was typically something I did under a lot of pressure because I hadn't done it since that night in Woodbury. I knew what I was doing, but I never practised it before I needed it. Part of me assumed that I never would.

A lot of these things were hard to test beforehand because you never knew if there was a herd close enough to hear you, and bombs were loud. There were more things I wanted to test at the prison, but when the fences started piling up, I changed my focus on experimentation and went straight into the building.

"I think we can make it work," she said and sat forward again. "You don't have to teach me mechanics, either. Abraham knows a lot about cars, I'm sure he could show me anything else I need to know on that front."

"My ears are burning."

Speak of the devil.

Abraham walked over from where he had been over the fire and handed a metal tin to Rosita as he joined us. He took a seat against a tree opposite where I was with his knees up and began pouring the contents of his tin into his mouth.

"What are you ladies talking about?" He grinned. "Other than me."

Rosita rolled her eyes but smiled at his behaviour. "Just asking Ace to teach me some stuff, is all."

"Oh, yeah," Abraham gestured to me with a few shakes of his hand. "Glenn said you were handy with a wrench and all that."

"Not that," Rosita scoffed, shaking her head as she picked through her food. "She can make bombs."

Abraham's brows shot up. "Bombs?"

"You could sound less shocked," she said, moving herself to sit next to him. "Glenn said she was smart."

"I'm impressed," he waved her off. "I never expected you to do the shit I now know you've done. Today was a toughie, I'll give it to you."

"Don't get into it," Rosita whispered to him.

"It's hard," he said and gave me a nod of approval. "That's why I'm impressed."

I gave a nod, but looked down, avoiding his gaze. For some reason, his approval didn't mean all that much to me, but the knowing tone that told me how hard this was made me feel better. Abraham was brash, but he was also a sergeant; he had more than enough experience doing what I had done and the effects it had afterwards.

"And it's good," Abraham's tone shifted as he threw the tin away. "Rosita here does like herself a good bomb."

"That I do," she agreed with a smile, nodding as she looked down at her food.

"Ace," Glenn sat on the ground beside me, holding a tin in my direction. "Here, eat something."

The tin was so hot that I had to use my sleeve to hold it, but I savoured the first few mouthfuls of beans. Part of me worried about the amount of food we were going through, but Martinez had gathered more than enough food over the past few days to support all of us; it would only be for a day or two, but it gave us more time to salvage. He split some between the blue bag and himself, which meant we didn't lose anything to Terminus.

"What did you use them for?" Abraham asked after a beat.

I looked up and blinked a few times. "What?"

"The bombs," he clarified.

This was the alternative to the quiz that guys would ask girls if they said they were interested in something: Do you like sports? List every champion from every category (I clearly knew nothing about sports). Cars? Every model. It didn't seem so much like a test this time though, and he was genuinely curious about what I used the bombs for.

The strange thing was that it didn't take a genius to work out what I needed bombs for. Using them on walkers was too loud, which meant that they were used against people. He wasn't going to accept that as an answer, so I tried to brush the topic off.

"I only made one," I said.

"And I'm sure there's a story behind it," Abraham said.

My eyes went to Glenn for a second, but I didn't even think he knew about this. I could've told the story, but it happened in Woodbury and I didn't want to repeat information that would remind Glenn of that night and upset him. I assumed with everyone sitting down with food, it meant that Maggie would probably be joining us soon too.

I sucked in a sharp breath and stammered for a moment when Isaac sat down in the space between Glenn and Abraham. "I, uh. I got trapped, and there were, um, people outside the door that were going to break in. And it was a cupboard, so I could only really find a tin can and sugar—"

"You telling the one about being trapped in Woodbury?" Martinez asked, sitting down closer to the fire but still within earshot. Some of the others followed him, and I heard rustling as Maggie came around behind us and sat next to Glenn.

Abraham leant forward. "Heard it?"

"Heard it? I was one of the people on the other side of the door."

Martinez's head fell to the side in regret at giving away that information, but he decided to stick with his answer either way. Glenn was looking at him, but Maggie rubbed his arm and he looked down at his food.

"Surprised you're even still here with the trigger finger on these people," Abraham told him. "From what I can see, they don't give two shits for anyone who crosses them."

"She tried shooting me after I saved her," Martinez said. "I had the sense to take her bullets. But after some of the stuff I did, they're still letting me stay. They're good people."

A breath came out of Glenn's nose beside me, and I could tell he was struggling with the complement. He didn't want Martinez here, but the fact that he was being so civil after the things Martinez was involved with was the most impressive thing to me.

"What happened?" Tara asked.

Martinez glanced her way and took over. "We'd separated her from Rick and some of the others, chased her through a building to take her out and she trapped herself in a cupboard, made a smoke bomb and threw it out at us to get away."

"You did?" Maggie asked.

I just nodded.

"That's so fucking cool," Tara said at the same time.

"Wait, wait," Rosita said, stopping the cheers and questions that followed. She shook her head and frowned. "You said you only had a tin can and sugar. So . . . where'd the potassium nitrate come from?"

There was a silence amongst the crowd as they waited for an answer, but Abraham clapped his hands together and laughed. "You did not!"

"What?" Sasha asked.

Abraham was still shaking his head as he asked, "You used gunpowder for the saltpetre, didn't you?"

I looked down sheepishly. "It was all I had."

It was dangerous, what I did, but I was desperate. Just remembering what it felt like now, being sure that I was going to die, made this story a lot less fun than the others were making it seem. Glenn must've noticed because one of his hands came behind me and rubbed my back.

"Jesus Christ." Abraham looked at Martinez, "Aren't you lucky you weren't standing next to it? You'd be six feet in the ground."

"It was a close one," Martinez agreed. "The shrapnel from the tin could've cut an artery or something."

"Can we switch topics," Tyreese muttered. "Trying to eat here."

Some of the others started explaining who they were before this, and what happened since. Even Rick joined us for a second, answering Abraham's questions that he was a sheriff's deputy.

Sometime in the night, I excused myself to take watch, with most people around the fire and eating, I was sure they weren't thinking about it. There was more talking as Daryl and Carol returned, and Daryl pulled Rick away from the group to talk to him privately.

Something was wrong.

The darkness seemed to grow around me as I stared into the distance. If it wasn't for the shadow cast by the fire, I wouldn't have seen the trees a few metres away from me. Letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, there was nothing; it was eerily quiet and I half expected a walker to sneak up on me. But I'd hear a walker if it was coming, they weren't what I needed to look out for.

Crunches in the dirt behind me drew my attention back as Rick took a seat beside me. His face was blank, and he leaned back against the tree. I turned my attention back to the woods, following his gaze that reminded me I was on watch.

"I can take watch tonight," I said.

He shook his head, resting his arms on top of his knees. "It's not that."

"What is it?"

Rick looked back at the others, and I turned my head, waiting for him to say what he wanted. "I just spoke to Daryl. He thinks he heard something in the woods."

"What?"

Not people, I thought desperately. Not now.

Rick shrugged. "We're not sure, it couldn't have been a walker. Daryl said it felt like someone was watching them, but he couldn't find any tracks in the dark.

"Do you think it's them?" I asked.

Everyone had been playing under the assumption that the people at Terminus were dead, but in my mind, if we managed to fight our way through the herd with barely any weapons, then they could have gotten through with just some guns.

"It could be," Rick said quietly. "There's no way of knowing for now. I just want you to keep your guard up."

"I will."

Even after receiving the information, Rick stayed beside me. I half expected him to return to the others and get some rest, and I even played with the idea of reminding him that I had it covered. After everything, I just really wanted the company.

I pulled my knees up and buried my hands under the opposite arms to keep warm, but I was vigilant. My eyes scanned the area as my vision adjusted to the darkness once again. After a while, I brought my hands up to my mouth and blew into them, before rubbing them together.

"Cold?" Rick asked.

I nodded. "A little."

"Here," he leaned forward, pulling his arms out of his sleeves. "You can wear this for the night. We'll find everyone some more clothes soon."

The jacket was so much warmer than I expected, heated by Rick. I closed my eyes and sighed, leaning my head back against the tree. The air was getting crisp, and I could see my breath in the backlight from the fire.

Rick stayed next to me, keeping me company. Looking through the woods was much more daunting on my own.

"Thank you."

He looked at me. "For what?"

"Just, being here," I said. "You've done so much for me, I don't think I'd have made it this far without you."

In the dim light, I could see him nod, eyes on the ground as a small smile worked onto his face. "You're my girl, I love you like you're my daughter. And I hate being responsible for some of the things you've done. But I know you—I know you're strong enough to handle anything this world throws at you. I don't think you need me as much as you think you do."

"I do," I told him. "I really do."

Rick had always been like a dad to me, going out of his way to make me feel safe and comfortable. When he found out that my dad was missing, he left him a note in Atlanta. He always tried talking to me about things that made me nervous or upset. I loved him like he was my own dad, which brought up a feeling of guilt I had to shove away.

"C'mere," he said, his arm coming over my shoulder and pulling me into his side. He placed a kiss on my temple, before resting his head on my own. I leaned into him, finding warmth in the crook of his neck as my eyes went back to the woods. I missed this. Feeling like this—like I belonged somewhere.

Before it had always been protecting my people so they could live out their lives with their families. Everyone had someone, and I had to stand by and watch. Now, with Rick's hand rubbing up and down my arm to keep me warm and safe, I realised that I did have a family. And I was not going to lose this again.

"Dad?" Carl's voice made me look up, still leaning against Rick. He was standing there with Judith in his arms who leaned tiredly against him. "Can one of you take her? I'm getting a little tired."

Rick pulled his arm from over my shoulder and leaned up to grab his daughter. "Of course," he said. "Get some sleep."

When Rick sat back against the tree, I leaned into his arm and rested my head on his shoulder. It didn't take long for Judith to become more active, not tired at all as she moved around in his grip, babbling at anything she thought was listening, which included trees and a stick on the ground.

She then started grabbing at anything she could get her hands on, and I had to push myself away from Rick when she started grabbing at my hair, getting it tangled between her little fingers. When I took away her new toy, she moved on to the next interesting thing and pulled at the neck of Rick's shirt. He chuckled and moved her hand away with a finger, but then she tried leaning over to get my hair again.

"Judith," I complained jokingly and leaned further away from her.

Rick smiled, but held her in place for a second. He gave a nod back towards the group as he looked at me. "Go on, you should get some rest too."

"I can take watch," I reminded him.

"I know," he agreed with a nod. "But it's been a long day, and we don't know what Daryl saw earlier. Just try to get some sleep; we don't know how far we'll have to walk tomorrow and you'll want as much rest before you walk on that leg."

Part of me had forgotten about the pain in my leg, being able to avoid it by sitting down for so long. Even as I shifted, I felt it again. That's when I realised Rick was probably right, and I needed to sleep it off. I got on my knees to kiss Judith on the head and stood up before her next attempt at grabbing my hair.

I smiled. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

You guys are going to hate me for the next few chapters, so here's a cute Rick moment like I know you all love.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and lmk what you think :)