Yesterday Carl had opened his eye for the first time since getting shot. He'd barely managed to stay conscious for a minute, but he'd recognised Rick, even tried to speak. Denise said that was a good sign. His brain function seemed intact, and he was fighting.

Michonne had practically forced me out of the infirmary that morning, insisting I help with cleanup duty.

"He's going to be okay," she told me. "You don't need to hover anymore. Leave that to his father."

I knew she was right. I'd felt like I was holding my breath for days, and now, it seemed he would pull through.

The street was full of people already working, dragging Walker's bodies into piles so they could be burnt outside the walls. What got me was the sheer number of Alexandrians helping out. The people who wanted us gone—Rick gone—were now working under his order.

They were working with our group.

Although most of them still looked grossed out by the bodies, having to touch and move them, there were no complaints. They were just doing what needed to be done. Then again, this was something they should have always been doing from the start—

"You're thinking too hard," Isaac cut off my train of thought.

He was behind me, holding two bottles of water. He extended his arm to offer one to me, which I accepted with a smile. I took a sip from the bottle, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I felt embarrassed and thankful that he always knew when I needed pulling from my head.

"Just observing," I tried to play it off, but he knew better than to believe me. Still, I continued, "I just didn't expect to see half the people out here, moving bodies. It's strange."

"They're learning. Had to eventually, right?"

That was what Rick had been trying to drill into their heads for weeks now: they would never survive if they couldn't do the hard jobs. Maybe moving bodies wasn't the best example, but being out there last night, killing the herd, that was a start.

I smirked back at Isaac, my eyes flicking to the blue rubber gloves that encased his hands, "You're one to talk."

A small wave of anxiety surged in my chest, afraid my joke might have been too harsh or offended him. But he laughed, actually laughed, and the tension dissipated. He rolled his eyes, flexing his gloved fingers, "I'm here, aren't I? And I've gotten better."

"True."

Pride swelled to hear him admit that, to hear that he truly believed he was getting better around the dead, because he'd been so crushed when Rick didn't believe in him. The difference was clear as night and day, how bad he used to be around walkers, blood. Now he was out here helping move bodies, without complaint or avoidance. Just . . . with extra protection.

"We're all still learning," Isaac said. "Think we've all got things to work on."

"Yeah. Suppose we do," I admitted, as we walked to get some work done. There was a quietness for a moment before I added, "It all still feels strange though. Like . . ."

"Like waiting for the other walker shoe to drop?"

My head snapped to look at Isaac over my shoulder, "What?"

"You know the saying, waiting for the shoe to drop, like something bad will still happen."

"Yes, I'm aware of the bloody saying," I shook my head, bewildered. "Why did you say it like that? Why did you specify a walker's shoe?"

He grimaced and shrugged sheepishly. "Was trying to keep it relevant."

I just raised a brow at him, we stared at each other in silence before I began laughing, unable to hold it in. It wasn't even funny, I had no idea what I was laughing at. But Isaac joined in, and we stood there laughing for almost a minute.

"Yeah, that was pretty bad," he admitted. "That was dumb."

"Awful," I added, breathing in deep to stop the laughter. "Anyway, you are right. That is it, I think . . . waiting for something to happen."

That was it exactly. Every place before this seemed good at first. The farm, the prison, even Terminus, before we found out what it was. Every time we thought we found somewhere safe, something or someone came along and wrecked it.

We spent a while moving bodies in a way that Isaac had seemingly already planned out to make it more orderly and efficient for him. I let him decide on a plan like that because it didn't matter to me. If putting order into something as disgusting as moving rotting bodies outside of the walls was going to help him, then who was I to say anything?

Isaac wanted us to work at the back of town first, around our own house because then there would be less distance to travel each journey—if we started on the hardest things then moving the rest of the bodies would be easier once we got tired. It made sense, and I agreed to the plan.

Everyone was more scattered than everything, working in little sectors they assigned themselves, which was sort of messing with the plan Isaac had made, but we moved past it and if we got to an area with fewer walkers then we'd just move on.

"Hold on," Isaac said suddenly, crouching next to one of the bodies. "There's something."

I watched him carefully pull something from the walker's jacket pocket. A photograph that somehow made it through everything. The edges were pretty worn but you could still see the picture. I sidestepped next to him to catch a glimpse. It was a family standing in front of one of Alexandria's houses, all smiling at the camera. It was familiar, I knew that house.

"They lived here," I realised.

My head went up and I looked across the street, then around, searching. My eyes finally found it in the other direction. That was it, the same house. I walked by it, saw it all the time. But it had never mattered before that moment, it was just a house. Now, it was different, staring at it, feeling and seeing much more than I should for just a building.

The white paint was covered in blood and gore now, but I could picture it clean. Picture that family standing right where they were, getting their photo taken. No idea what was to come in their future. I wondered how long since the photo was taken, shortly after everything ended. Was it when everyone moved in? Sooner than that?

The houses were for sale before the world ended, I saw the sign on the road with the herd.

Thinking it over, harder and harder, I didn't recognise any of their faces. Not even the body in its walker form. They'd lived here. Or at least, this dead one still had until the herd rolled in. But still, I didn't recognise them. Didn't remember ever seeing or meeting them.

"Do you know who they are?" Isaac asked quietly, and I could hear the same troubled thoughts in his voice that I was having.

"I don't," I admitted. I don't think I've ever even seen them around before."

Isaac studied the photo again. "Me neither. I mean, I know we weren't exactly social when we got here, but . . ."

"Yeah," I knelt beside him, looking at the walker's face. Someone who lived in the same community as us walked the same streets, and we didn't even know their name. "Makes you wonder how many others we didn't know. How many people died during all this that we . . ."

"That we never bothered to meet," Isaac finished. He was quiet for a moment before adding. "Maybe that's part of what Rick meant. About us all having to change."

"Like you said. We've all got things to work on."

He carefully tucked the photo in his pocket. "Someone should remember them. Even if we didn't know them before, maybe we can find someone that did. Someone knew who they were. They might be friends or family, they should know. They could have it, or put it where it belongs."

The idea of keeping memories here, caring about the people who lived in this place. All of them, not just our group. It felt . . . permanent. That wasn't something I let myself think about—anything being permanent in a long time.

Because nothing ever was.

But that didn't mean I didn't want it to be.

"You think this place has a chance?" I asked, not looking at him. "After everything?"

Isaac was quiet for a moment, staring down at the unnamed corpse below us. "Maybe because of everything. But . . . I think . . . I think maybe that's up to us. The people here, they're not like the Governor, or the Claimers, or the people at Terminus. They're just . . . people."

I wondered if after everything we endured, everything we saw, everything we did, that's what we even were.

What I was.

"People who needed help learning how to survive," he continued and gestured at everyone working around us. "And look, they are learning. They're trying."

I watched Rosita showing some Alexandrians how to tie up the body pile right so we could move it. They were listening, faces serious. No complaints about it not being their job or anything. Just people working together to fix their homes.

Their home.

The thought hit me weird, but I didn't hate it like I would've before. Maybe Isaac was right. Maybe this time could be different. Still, part of me wondered if this could be my home . . . I didn't know what I considered up to be my home anymore.

After two hours or so, we had a break from moving the walkers, going to sit on one of the street corners at the crossroads junction to the left when you left our houses. Isaac placed my water bottle beside me as if saying wordlessly that I needed to drink something. I picked up the bottle and did just that.

"You're doing good today," I told him, bumping his shoulder with mine.

He gave me a look, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "With the bodies, you mean?"

"Yeah," I didn't need to explain more. He'd come so far from when I'd first met him when he joined us, really joined us and became a part of the group.

"Having a plan helps, knowing what needs doing, having it organised. Makes it . . . easier to handle," he paused, then added quietly. "Having you here helps too."

I felt my face warm, and it wasn't from the sun. Isaac smiled as we just stared at each other for a little while like everyone else wandering around had vanished from my view. Isaac's eyes flicked downwards before we both leaned in.

Before our lips could meet, Rosita called over to us. "Hey! We're about to start moving the piles outside the walls. Could use some help."

"Be right there!" I was startled, jumping to my feet as I called back. I offered Isaac my hand, which he took, letting me pull him up. But he didn't let go right away. For a moment we just stood there, fingers linked together.

As we walked over to help Rosita, I couldn't help thinking that maybe Isaac was right about Alexandria. Maybe we all just needed to learn. Learn to survive, learn to trust, learn to live again. And maybe, just maybe, we could do it together.

Rosita was working with Martinez to help move some of the bodies, get them outside to pile them up and make a fire. We went to join them, moving the bodies into the back of a truck so they could be taken outside easier, and then it was a short walk to where they were making the piles where the eventual fires would be.

I straightened up with a breath, clapping my hands together.

"Watch it!" Someone yelled.

I turned just in time to see one of the bodies sliding off the top of the pile as the person—another person I didn't know—tried moving it. Isaac yanked me back by my arm as it tumbled down, landing where I had been standing with a wet thud!

"You good?" he asked, not letting go of my arm.

"Yeah. Thanks."

The Alexandrians who'd been moving the pile looked horrified, probably thinking they'd almost gotten someone killed. They stammered out an apology down to me, but Rosita just walked over, showing them how to stack the bodies better, more stable.

"See?" Isaac said under his breath. "Learning."

By the time we stopped for lunch, the sun was at its highest and everything reeked. My clothes were covered in stuff I didn't want to think about, and even Isaac's gloves looked ready to give up. I took a long breath, wiping sweat from my forehead with my sleeve.

"I need to check on Carl."

"Of course," he agreed. "I'll come with you."

Isaac walked with me to the infirmary. It was much cooler than outside—quieter. Denise was in there, checking Carl's bandages when we walked in, and for a second, my heart stopped until I saw her smile back at us.

"He was awake again earlier," she said. "Asked for you, actually."

"He did?" Something in my chest loosened. "What did he say?"

"Wanted to know if you were okay. Rick told him you were helping with cleanup." She finished with the bandages, moving away from him. "He's sleeping now, but he's doing really well. Better than I expected, honestly."

I reached for Isaac's hand, squeezing it tightly.

We left after a few minutes, knowing we needed to get back to work. But everything felt lighter somehow. Carl was healing. Alexandria was getting cleaned up. Maybe we really could—

"Oh gross," Isaac suddenly said, looking down at his shirt. "I think I got walker . . ." He trailed off, face going a little pale. There was blood where the apron didn't cover the top of his sleeve, a line where part of his shirt had been protected.

"Hey," I grabbed his attention. "Deep breath. You've got a clean shirt at home, right? Go change. I'll wait here."

He nodded, still looking queasy. "Sorry, I just—"

"No, stop. It's okay," I told him. "Really. Don't apologise. Go on, I'll wait here for you."

I watched him hurry off toward his house, thinking about how he didn't even hesitate to come to check on Carl with me, even after dealing with bodies all morning. The infirmary couldn't be an easy place for him to be, most of the blood still stained the surfaces inside. I thought again about how far we'd all come.

Isaac came back in a clean shirt, still looking a bit pale but better. We headed back to help the others, knowing there was still plenty of work left—this was not a job that could all be done with an afternoon's work.

The hours dragged on, everyone getting tired but pushing through. We were almost done with the bodies at least, just a few more piles to move. The real cleanup would start tomorrow. Washing down the streets, fixing up houses, trying to make Alexandria look like Alexandria again.

"Hey, love birds!" Glenn called out. "Little help over here?"

I felt my face get hot.

Isaac just grinned, already heading over to help.

I followed, refusing to look at Glenn's smug face. "These bodies are stuck together, need more hands to separate them."

The walkers had fallen on top of each other and then baked in the sun for days. The smell was worse than anything we'd dealt with so far. Isaac pulled his gloves back on and we got to work, trying to untangle the mess of limbs.

"On three," Glenn said, gripping one of the bodies. "One, two—"

We pulled, and something gave way with a wet, ripping sound. The body came free but took half of another walker's torso with it. Gore and rotted organs spilt out, splattering across the pavement. The stench hit like a wall. Glenn and I both flinched and recoiled with sounds of disgust. I put the inside of my elbow to my mouth, trying to stop some of the stench and not gag.

Isaac stumbled back so fast he nearly fell, gagging violently. His gloves were off in seconds, thrown aside as he doubled over. The sound he made was awful, somewhere between choking and retching. His face had gone ghost-white.

"I can't—" he tried to speak but gagged again, harder this time. "Oh God—"

He barely made it to the side of the road before throwing up, his whole body shaking. I could see his legs threatening to give out, his hands braced against his knees. I winced, knowing that it was just going to make him feel worse than seeing the gore of the bodies had done.

"Nice one," I mumbled, finally turning to face Glenn. I didn't expect that he knew that was going to happen, but it was a hard ask for someone like him.

He nodded as if realising his mistake. Then he placed a hand on my shoulder and pushed me forward, "Go help your boyfriend."

I shot back a look as I walked over to Isaac, who was still retching, one hand clutching his stomach. "Hey, can I touch you?" I asked, my hand hovering above his back.

He was nodding, at least I guessed, when he choked out, "Y-yeah."

I lowered my hand to his back, rubbing up and down to comfort him. "It's alright, don't worry about it, yeah?" I winced at my own words. "We'll get all this cleaned up. Do you want to go back and shower? Call it a day?"

He was shaking his head, trying to say no, when I cut him off, "We're almost done for the day, thirty minutes, an hour tops. Go home, take it easy then we can hang out at mine for a while," I tried to convince him.

Isaac was still nodding, now finally able to gasp in a full breath. He straightened up and stepped away from where he'd just thrown up so he didn't have to look at it or be near it. "Okay," he agreed eventually, yeah."

Glenn came over to where we were standing, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Just a little . . ."

I cut in for him, "You want me to take you back?"

"No," he shook his head. "I'll just . . . I'll go clean up."

"You're heading home?" Glenn asked, and Isaac just nodded, not meeting his eye. He understood, and called after him as he walked away, "You did really well today."

"Good job," I said, when Isaac was out of earshot.

"I didn't know. I didn't know it was going to do that."

I took a breath and nodded. "I know."

"Help me finish up and then you can head back," he offered. "The rest of us can deal with the last few piles."

"Yeah," I mumbled, uncrossing my arms. "Okay."

I helped Glenn move the bodies to the pile outside, which we just lazily dropped at the bottom. When we came back in through the gates, I was ready to head back to the house.

I went back to my house. I needed to clean up, not just because I was going to be seeing Isaac again, but because I was just awful after such a long day of work.

I grabbed some shorts and a baggy t-shirt, and headed into the shower, doing an everything shower and haphazardly shaving my legs and arms. Once I was out, my wet hair curling in the heat, there was a knock at the front door. I went to answer, opening it to see Isaac. He also still had damp hair and a change of clothes from where he left earlier, "Hey."

"Hey," I answered,

"I didn't know if you'd be back yet," he said.

"Glenn left me off after . . . you know," I said, nodding for him to come inside. "I just came back to clean up before you came over."

"Yeah, well. I was having a good day."

I winced, "He's sorry."

"He didn't do anything," Isaac waved me off. "I just . . . I didn't want this day to end yet. Really, I didn't want to end this day on that note, but I hoped we could spend some time together after work. Just me and you."

"I'd like that," I smiled.

"What do you want to do?" Isaac said. "I heard something about someone finding some board games in one of these houses, but then we'd have to go searching for them. Or . . ." he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cardboard box, "I found some cards."

"Switch?" I offered.

He raised a brow, "What's that?"

"Remember UNO?"

"Yeah?"

"It's that, but with regular cards," I told him. "Poor man's UNO. It's like, one of the two card games I actually know."

He considered for a second, maybe decided between that or the board games which we'd have to look for if he wanted to play. "You'd have to teach me."

I feigned exasperation. "Haven't I taught you so much already?"

"Actually," Isaac came close, flush against me as he wrapped his arms around my waist, "I think I'm the one that does all the teaching in this relationship. Remember, I showed you how to do this . . ."

To prove his point, he leaned down to kiss me the same as he did back at the barn. God, how could I ever forget something like that? I never wanted him to let me go.

"Must've forgotten," I said breathlessly.

He grinned and leaned down to kiss me again, "Alright, let's play this game."

It took a few minutes and a couple of games to teach Isaac the rules of Crazy Switch: you can put the same suit on top of each other, unless a jack which can change to any suit you want. Twos are pick-up-two, ace changed direction and eight was miss-a-go. You had to put the cards in your hand down in the middle to get rid of all your cards, and when you have one card left you say 'last card'.

Simple enough.

There was a slight argument about whether you could put down two cards if you have one number that is the same suit as the drop pile and the same number in a different suit, which is how me and dad always used to play. I think Isaac was just mad realising he could have been doing that the whole time.

"How are you feeling now?" I asked after the fourth or fifth game . . . I lost count.

Isaac shrugged, straightening the deck of cards. "A little better, I guess."

I tilted my head, "You don't have to push yourself so hard, you know. No one expects—"

"I know," he cut me off, standing alongside me and stretching up. "I want to though, want to be able to—" he took a breath. "I want to be . . . better. For the group. For you." There was a quiet moment before he continued. "Not just for you," he continued, and then winced, realising how that sounded. "For me too. But . . . having you here, it helps. Makes me feel like maybe I can handle it—most of it anyway."

I didn't know what to say—words could easily ruin a moment like this. Instead, I kept quiet and reached for his hand, linking our fingers together. He pulled me closer so there was nothing between us, and for a moment, we just stood there in a nice kind of quiet, breathing each other's air.

"I should probably head back," he said, his voice quiet. "It's getting late."

But he didn't move, or let go of my hand, like he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. It was a strange feeling, to have someone want to be there, to be with you even if nothing needed to be said at that time. To feel so incredibly wanted, and to want just as badly.

The front door opened before I could respond, and I jumped back a little. The noise surprised me, interrupting the moment we were having.

Michonne came through, carrying a few cans from storage. "I thought you might need dinner," she glanced between the two of us, a knowing look crossing her face after initial surprise. Then she continued to the kitchen to leave the tins on the counter and we followed. "There's enough for both of you."

"You're not staying?" I asked.

"Already ate," she answered simply. "Gonna bring some food to Rick, sit with him for a while. He's still with Carl."

"How is he?" Isaac was the one to ask when I couldn't bring myself to face the question.

Michonne looked at me as she answered, "Stable, sleeping again. Get some rest okay? Both of you worked really hard today."

"Yeah."

"Okay," Isaac and I said one after the other.

With that she was gone, leaving us alone once again in the quiet kitchen. Isaac still hadn't let go of my hand. "Guess it's just us."

I pulled away from his hand. It felt oddly cold without his warmth, I recognised immediately, and I wanted nothing more than to stop making food and go back over to him to keep him close to me. Instead, I busied myself with the cans, trying to hide whatever was showing on my face.

When the food was heated up, tinned spaghetti bolognese. I poured some into two bowls for us to eat. The food was going to dwindle and was probably already dwindling. Normally we would have done more runs, but with the utter mayhem in the last few weeks, there was no time. And the crops would take a while to get up and going, especially with all the buildings we had planned. It wasn't a problem I wanted to address.

Isaac grabbed them and brought them into the living room, "Grab some forks?"

"Okay," I opened the draw and pulled them out.

We ate the spaghetti quietly on the sofa, muscles aching from the long day of work. It felt nice just to be able to relax and sit down, to finally have a break, something I usually denied myself when there was so much to do. But today felt different, and I didn't want my time with Isaac to end.

"Remember when we first got here?" Isaac asked suddenly. "How weird it was eating inside at a table, in a house?"

I smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. After so long on the road, and before that living in a prison, normal things had felt strange. It often still did, at least for me. "Yeah. Felt like we were playing pretend or something."

"Now look at us. All domestic."

"Speak for yourself. I'm still feral," I said.

Isaac laughed. "Oh yeah. Very dangerous, very scary. Shaking in my boots."

"You're not wearing boots," I said, nodding to his daps.

"So terrifying," he continued, ignoring my interruption. He turned back to shovel some food into his mouth, "Especially with that sauce dripping down your chin."

"What?" My hand went to my mouth, searching, wiping.

"Kidding" he was grinning, suppressing laughter and ducking when I tried to swat his arm. "You're too easy."

"Jerk," I huffed. "Better watch it, or next chance I get I'm wiping my hands on you."

Isaac straightened up and placed his bowl on the coffee table in front of us, "Okay now I'm scared. That's just cruel."

We fell quiet again, but comfortably, still smiling. The living room had gotten darker with the setting sun, shadows growing longer across the floor. It felt nice and peaceful, sitting in the growing dark together. No noise, no dangers.

Just me and him.

"I should probably go soon," he tried again, his voice just as low as it'd been before we were interrupted.

"Yeah," I agreed, so quiet it was barely audible.

But I didn't move, I didn't want him to move either.

His hand found mine on the sofa, fingers linking together like they had earlier. But it felt different somehow. More. It was like a request and a promise all in one, something that we'd never spoken about, but I could tell we both wanted more than anything.

"Or I could stay," he got out in a whisper.

Nothing else had to be said at that moment, surprisingly enough, it just took a look for me to know where it was going. I took both of his hands and led him backwards to my room as he came down to meet me in a searing kiss. But I wanted it so badly, to be close to him and have nothing left between us—no secrets or arguments. Just me and him. It was like this moment had been building for a long time, but also not at all.

We took our time together, the exploration new for both of us as we got to know every small detail about each other, allowing ourselves to connect in a way that I never could have imagined, saying things that neither of us had dared get out into words.

My hand rubbed absently over his chest, listening to his heartbeat that slowed as we settled into each other's arms. For the first time in a long time, I felt completely and utterly calm I felt, able to just lay there beside him and know that he wasn't going anywhere—not for now, at least.

Isaac had one arm on my back, his thumb brushing back and forth, the other under his head. After the breathless loving whispers, we remained in the nice silence, holding each other close. I had no regrets about giving myself to him completely.

"You're amazing," he whispered after a while, turning his head down to kiss my temple.

I laid my head back down on his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. I kissed his skin a few times before closing my eyes and breathing out a tired sigh. I could fall into a dreamless sleep now, I didn't need one, not even a dream could beat this moment.

"I will have to go soon," he mumbled after almost an hour. "Really, this time. I don't want to be here for Rick to catch me in the morning."

I hummed, hearing what he said but it didn't register.

Isaac tightened his arms to shift me a little, stirring me from my sleep. "Ace?"

I grumbled, turning my face into his chest. "What?"

"I don't want to leave when you're asleep."

"Don't," I mumbled. "You've slept here before."

"Not like this," he said, a hand running down my bare back, the other squeezing my waist as if to show what he meant. There was a moment of silence, before he said, "I have to go, Rick will kill me."

I turned my face into his shoulder, my body pressing into his side, "Not yet."

And that was all the convincing he needed.

I awoke later on, stirring as he went for his clothes, but not fully waking up until he leant one knee on the bed, brushing my hair out of my face with the palm of his hand. God, he was so sweet. The way he was looking at me, barely visible in the darkness of the room, made me want a repeat everything, the whole night. It hurt, I thought, to know the only way I ever met him was because the world went to shit.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning down to kiss my head. "I have to go, okay? I didn't want to go without saying goodbye."

I woke up a little more now, aware of my surroundings in the room. When he put his feet back on the ground, I reached for his hand. There was only so much I could try to put off his leaving, especially in my sleep-ridden state, "Wait for me."

"No, go back to sleep," he put a hand on my shoulder and gently pushed me back down onto the pillow, before coming in for a long kiss, which I lazily reached up to meet. "I'll see you tomorrow, goodnight, Ace."

"Goodnight," I mumbled.

The kitchen was occupied when I came out of my room the next morning. Rick was sitting at the table, coffee in hand, while Michonne leaned against the counter with her cup, watching as I walked in to grab some breakfast.

"Alright," I greeted, trying to act normal like Isaac hadn't snuck out before dawn.

Rick gave a nod, not yet looking up as he said, "Ace, you and Isaac left your bowls—"

But then when he looked up, he just stopped and stared at me with a weird expression for what seemed like a minute, but was probably only a second or two, before he rubbed his chin like he did when something was bothering him.

"What's wrong?" Michonne asked because even she had noticed his silence, his odd shift in behaviour.

Rick didn't answer, just staring at me with a pained, odd expression. He closed his eyes like he didn't want to see whatever he was before he opened them, and they were directly on my own, maybe a little lower.

Michonne followed his gaze, then suddenly let out a loud laugh, trying to hide it behind her mug.

I frowned. "What?"

But neither of them answered. Rick just kept looking at me with his pained expression, troubled, while Michonne was amused. "Well," she pushed herself off the counter, "as entertaining as this is," she gestured between me and Rick, "I should get started on work."

Rick hummed, nodding as he ran a hand over his face, but he didn't move from the table. Eventually, he stood up but seemed to have no plan to go anywhere. "Right, you should probably, uh, find a way to cover that up . . . before anyone sees it."

"Cover what up?"

The question physically pained him, as Rick pointed to his neck as some kind of demonstration. I reached upwards automatically, pressing my fingers against my skin before I froze, and the realisation hit. Oh God.

"I'll leave you two to . . . discuss," Michonne said, heading for the door. She paused beside Rick, leaning in to whisper, "Don't kill him."

The kitchen felt very quiet after she left. But not the same quiet it was last night, between me and Isaac, where it was peaceful, comfortable. No, it was very much the opposite, awkward, heavy. None of us wanted to be here.

"So. . ." he started, then stopped, like he had no idea where to go from there. Maybe if I stood there long enough the floor would open up and swallow me whole. "I, uh—" Rick cleared his throat. "Michonne mentioned that you were with Isaac yesterday when she brought food."

I nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Uh huh."

"I thought he— figured he—" Rick cut himself off, shaking his head. "I thought Isaac went home last night."

"He did," I said, too quickly. "I mean . . . eventually, after we . . ." I stopped myself before I could ramble anymore.

"So, he's not still—"

Here? I finished for him, turning red, "God, no."

Rick nodded; even he knew that Isaac was smarter than that. "And that other week where he stayed over he was . . ."

"Grieving," I finished his sentence as if to say nothing happened then.

He was relieved, almost like this thought had only just considered that to be an option. "Listen," he said finally. "I'm not— I don't—" he stopped, rubbing his face again. "Just . . . be careful."

"Oh my God," I muttered, wanting to die right there. "Can we not?"

"No, we probably should," he sat back down and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "You know, talk about—"

Was he actually trying to have the safe sex talk right now?

"We really don't have to," I cut in desperately. "Really"

"Ace . . ."

"I'm careful," I blurted out, face burning hotter. No, that was worse, that sounded way worse. "We're careful." Oh god, I needed to stop, I thought. Stop talking. "Can we please stop talking now?"

He looked as relieved as I felt to end this conversation. "Yeah, yes. Good."

I breathed out a sigh as the room went quiet, and turned away from him so he couldn't see the mark on my neck anymore. Something told me this wasn't the end of the conversation, that there was so much more awkward we had to wade through before this could be over.

"I know you're . . ." he paused, choosing his words carefully. "I know you can take care of yourself. You've proven that more times than anyone your age should have to. But you're still . . ." He let out a breath like this was harder than fighting walkers. "You're still seventeen. And after everything that's happened, all we've lost, sometimes it's easy to forget that. To expect you to just be grown up already."

"I am grown up," I said quietly, but it sounded weak even to me.

Rick smiled but pushed it down. "You're getting there. But you don't have to rush it, and you shouldn't have to."

"Everything's rushed now," I reminded him. "The whole world's rushed."

"Maybe. But that doesn't mean . . ." He went quiet. "Look, I know I'm not . . ."

He trailed off again, and I knew what he wasn't saying. Not my real dad. Not really my anything, technically. Just . . . Rick.

"You are, though," I said suddenly, surprising us both. "I mean . . . you're . . . you know."

"I know," he said. "Just . . . be careful with your heart too, okay? Not just the . . . other stuff."

"Oh, God," I groaned, the moment thoroughly ruined. "And we're back to awkward."

Rick laughed at that, and somehow it broke the tension. "Yeah, well . . . get used to it. This whole—" he gestured vaguely at my neck again "—situation isn't exactly in my comfort zone."

"You think it's in mine?"

He stood up, and for a second I thought we were done. But then he walked over and put his hands on my shoulders, looking at me seriously. "Just promise me something?"

"If it's about being careful again, I swear—"

"No," he cut me off, then reconsidered. "Well, yes, that too. But . . . promise you'll remember you can talk to me? About anything? Even if it's . . . uncomfortable."

"I know we talked about it, us talking more . . ." I trailed off. "I just didn't think this would be something we should— that you would have wanted to talk about with me." I cringed. "I mean, I know you didn't want to, but . . . I don't really want to do this again either."

"Only one way to guarantee that," Rick shrugged, seemingly happier about his solution, one that probably involved me never seeing Isaac again. "You should find some . . . makeup, or a jacket or something. Before Glenn sees and never lets any of us hear the end of it?"

"Think it's too late to move to another community?" I asked.

"Probably."

Rick stepped back, and went quiet again, as if he was deciding if there was anything else we should get out in the open before we both went our separate ways. God, I hoped not. I wanted nothing more than to just die.

"And Ace? Maybe tell Isaac that if he ever . . ." he stopped like he wasn't sure how to finish that threat.

"Please don't," I begged. "We've done enough mortifying father-daughter bonding for one day, yeah?"

"Fair enough," he opened the door, then added casually. "But I do still have my gun."

"Rick!"

As soon as he was gone, I slumped forward, letting my head thunk against the kitchen counter with a groan. My face felt like it was actually on fire.

"Just kill me now," I muttered into the wooden surface. "Any walker. Anyone will do." I stayed there for a long moment, contemplating if I could die from embarrassment. Or maybe I could just live in the basement forever. Or under the floorboards. Anywhere I wouldn't have to look Rick in the eye ever again.

The thought of facing anyone else made me groan louder. Glenn would never shut up about it. Michonne probably already told Maggie. Everyone would know by lunch.

"Brilliant, Ace," I told myself. "Really stellar morning you're having."

Maybe the walkers would break down the walls again. That would be nice right about now.

Merry Christmas! I got a really bad flu over my birthday and Christmas which is exactly my luck, so cool. Anyway, I know this chapter is a little more mature but it's also really funny. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and lmk what you thought :)