Rick made basically everyone help to build the fence on a junction of the road.

Aaron and Eric, Jessie, Deanna, Morgan . . . We needed all the help we could get. Carl worked with some of the other kids his age, and while I worried about bringing them along, Rick reminded me they all had to learn to survive out here. All of them, as he had.

Isaac was helping me, not wearing his blue surgical gloves, but thicker working gloves. His jaw set as he took a knee opposite me to grab one of the metal sheets. I could sense that he would rather be anywhere else, the stains on his shirt receiving the occasional glance in disdain.

"I could get tetanus from this," he grumbled.

His statement made me wonder. I didn't have to worry about tetanus for another seven years or so (and I doubted I'd ever worry about it as much as Isaac had been) but I considered what would have happened if someone cut themselves.

I ignored his statement as we took the piece of metal to the work in progress of a wall. A shambles, more like. Tipping it up, Isaac followed my lead as we propped it up against the log, the bottom touching the ground. I reached for a screw and screwdriver that I had in my pocket.

"My mom once dated someone who really liked fishing," Isaac said out of nowhere.

I laughed a part scoff, "Yeah?"

"Bored her out of her mind," he finished with a smile. "Not to say that she didn't know how to fish when she needed to, though."

"Is there a point to this?" I raised a brow.

"Just seeing a pattern is all," he shrugged. As I reached for a nail and a hammer, he asked, "So this is what you liked to do for fun?"

"Building, you mean?"

"I suppose."

"This is actually a lot less fun than it used to be," I admitted. "But it has to be done."

"I am well aware of that fact." Leading the herd West was probably one of the only reasons he was even here today. "The point I was making was," he began again, "after this herd thing is dealt with, I'd like a real date."

"And how exactly do we do that?" I cocked a brow.

"I have some ideas," was all he said.

And my curiosities had peaked, and I needed answers. "What ideas?"

"You'll see."

It was then I realised that Isaac had put much more thought into our relationship than I, not to say that I hadn't been busy during all of this. My mind was occupied on taking Alexandria, and then Pete, and now the herd that would almost definitely tear us apart if left unattended, so I had my excuses.

But excuses would not last me forever, and I wanted the time to be able to take it more seriously, our relationship. Us. Whatever that meant right now. Being his girlfriend would have been easier if we'd known each other before—but we never would have known each other before.

As quickly as that thought entered my head, I shoved it back out and decided to change the subject from us just for that moment.

"Was he nice?" I asked. "Your mother's boyfriend, I mean."

Isaac lifted his palm from the sheet to check if it was stable, as it fell a centimetre, he pushed it back up and started screwing again. "He was, actually. I was older when she started seeing him, so he didn't have to try to be nice to me, but he did. And he never tried forcing me to do things I didn't want to, not like—" he stopped shrugging his shoulders before finishing, "my dad."

I wasn't sure Isaac had spoken about his dad before that moment, and I never asked because I didn't want to bring up any unwanted memories—something that seemed all the more likely as I saw the way his eyes drifted to the ground.

"What happened to him?"

I hadn't realised how vague my question was until Isaac asked, "Which one."

The boyfriend or his dad, my curiosity peaked for both of them. "Anyone."

"Mom broke up with the guy. He tried, he really wanted it to work, but they didn't have anything in common. That's what she said anyway." I raised a brow, wondering if he thought something different, and Isaac answered, "I think she got scared when things started to get serious, maybe in case it started becoming a problem for me."

I wanted to tell him he was likely not the reason his mother ended their relationship, but that wasn't my place. "If that is the case, then that would have been because of her own problems, not you."

He glanced up for a second and moved on to screw in the next screw.

I assumed that would have been the end of his stories because he looked hard as steel after just talking about someone who his mother once dated. What shocked me was when he blew out a sigh and started speaking again.

"My dad—" he narrowed his brown eyes. "My dad probably wishes I had never been born."

"Isaac," I breathed.

He only smiled my way for a second and continued his task. "It's true. I wasn't the son he could play catch with or work on the house. And with all the medicine and psychiatrists I saw . . ." he trailed off. "I cost him a lot. Mom took up a job to work for what I needed to stop him from complaining."

Anger simmered beneath my surface as I stared at him, and the joints of my fingers pressed hard against the metal. Isaac only ever spoke of his mother, how loving and supportive of him she was, never treating him any differently than she would have if he wasn't diagnosed with OCD.

"After a while, it got so much listening to him that they divorced, and he just gave mom full custody and left," he said. "She didn't even want his money after, she just wanted him gone. I never saw him again after we moved out."

"I'm sorry," I offered quietly.

Isaac shrugged, pulling his hand back again as he finished screwing the sheet of metal into place. "It was better that way. Mom didn't let me work, she wanted me to focus on school and therapy. And she had to take up more jobs just to keep us going."

We had never spoken about these kinds of things. Likely, we assumed the same as each other, that our parents were gone and it was better to leave the topic alone. I'd never told Isaac of my mother or what happened to her. It was hard enough having that confession recorded in Deanna's home.

But I never assumed something so terrible of his own father. More so, I just assumed that either he died at the beginning or his mother was a solo parent, now I knew why the latter was true. And it killed me that his own dad would treat him that way, make him feel like he was costing too much. That he wasn't worth it.

"I don't know what happened to him after the fall," he said. "I just hope I never see him again."

But I could see what he really meant. I hope he died. I did too, I hope this world swallowed his father whole. Tears stung at my eyes that I managed to keep down, and I reached for his gloved hand and squeezed.

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

"Whatever," Isaac said with a shrug, pushing himself to his knees on the sheet of metal that was now sturdily attached to the logs. Even under his weight, it didn't seem to falter. That was a good sign. "I'm going to get some water."

And step away, forget the conversation they just had, and take a break from the sweat inducing work, he forgot to add.

"Isaac?" I called after him.

He hummed, turning on the foot that had taken a step away, his legs in line before he stepped back.

"What should I wear on our date?"

Isaac only grinned, shaking his head as he returned to his task, getting his water from in the car.

I doubted he would be back any time soon, so I went to grab the next sheet to move myself. Some of the other builders would have to come back over the metal and use stronger bolts, but the screws and nails were enough for now to get the base of the wall done before strengthening it.

Kneeling down, I grabbed each end of the metal, but as I went to lift it out, Morgan from across the road called out to me. "Let me help you with that!"

I waited for him as he placed the stick on the ground, before grabbing the other end of the sheet I was going to lift myself. We stood in synchronicity, and moved back to where I had been originally working with Isaac.

"Morgan," he introduced.

"I know who you are, I was there when Rick left that note for you on the car." 2009 Dodge Challenger to be specific. "I'm Ace."

"Then I know who you are," he said. I tilted my head to ask how? "If you are the same Ace in the note left to your father. Owen was his name, I believe."

I had honestly forgotten Rick had left that note for my dad on the car, the same as he left one for Morgan. He told me about it afterward, when we were already on the road. I thought about the trail we left him, my dad. If he returned to the house where Shane left the first message, he would have found the camp where Rick left the second. And then what? He would have found the C.D.C. in ruins and had nothing else to follow.

"I assume he isn't here." There was no malice in his voice, only a calming disappointment. This man was different to the one Rick had told me about in Kings County. Morgan helped me level the corrugated metal, planting his palm against it to hold it in place.

I shook my head and reached for the screwdriver Isaac left on the ground. "No, we never found him."

"I'm sorry," his brows curved downward. "I truly am."

I shrugged, pushing the screw hard into the metal to create a dent I could screw into.

Part of me thought talking to Morgan about this would have been more awkward, but really I was just battered with memories from Atlanta. Everything seemed so distant from that time, like I was a completely different person from the one who lived through that.

"You remember all the notes you come across?" I wondered aloud.

"I trusted Rick," he said. "If those names were important to him, then I remembered them. One day, I could have come across Owen, and if I did, I'd have been able to pass the message along to him myself." I thought about that for a second, before he said. "I would have remembered the name on that map I found if they had written one. Though, they were big enough to call themself an asshole."

"That was Abraham," I told him. "He's the asshole."

"You bet," Abraham clapped a hand on my shoulder and gave it a shake as he passed.

Morgan grinned, watching Abraham leave as I finally managed to pierce the metal with the screw. I wished I had a drill or something, but Carter or one of the other builders had taken it to work on their side of the wall.

"Then I assume you didn't meet him," I said after a pause. "My dad."

He shook his head. "I did not. Never met anyone called Owen to my knowledge, nor have I met anyone with an accent."

That was probably a point he considered now he met me, and heard what I sounded like, not that it mattered. I holstered my screwdriver and pulled back my hand, "He was American, so you probably would have been looking for a long time."

"I guess I would have," he smiled.

"Hey," Isaac called, getting my attention, his eyes careful on Morgan. What shocked me was when he extended a hand. "I'm Isaac."

"Morgan," he said, shaking his hand before stepping back. "How long have you been with them?"

"Couple months," Isaac said. "Since the prison."

"Our old home before this," I cut in, unsure of what Morgan had filled Rick in on.

Morgan nodded, glancing around. "Okay, I'll leave you two to get back to work. Nice meeting you both."

"You too," I said.

As he started leaving, I could see the look Isaac gave me, asking about the conversation I just had with Morgan. All I could think to say was, "He knew me."

Isaac frowned. "How?"

"Rick used to leave notes around for Morgan," I explained. "When he met me he left one for my dad, too. Morgan found them, recognised my name."

"Real name?"

"Ace," I told him.

He whispered out a damn.

I smiled.

We went back to work after that, and continued on for the rest of the day, only really stopping when Isaac would step away for a break. It happened more often than I needed, because his anxiety would bubble over every so often, but I took the time to sit down and wait for him.

When we did our portion for that day, I followed Isaac to one of the cars to grab some water, looking around as I took a few gulps. It would take another day or two of work, but we would be finished soon, moving on to the stage of leading the herd away.

"Did you decide if you were coming to help with the herd?" I asked.

Rick told him to think about it, and I wondered if Isaac had. Isaac went silent for a while. "I don't think I will. It's going to be a lot, and—and if I panic or something then I'm going to get everyone killed."

"Why did you offer to go?" I asked.

"I knew you were going, and I know I can't change your mind. Not if Rick—" he shook his head. "I wanted to make sure nothing happened while you were out there."

"Nothing will," I assured. "We have a plan."

"I know," he said. "And if I were there, I'd ruin it."

I understood his motivation when offering, my question was only meant to confirm. Isaac was willing and prepared to face a herd, if only to ensure my own survival. But that risk wasn't necessary for the particular situation.

Over recent months, Isaac's growth had been apparent, he'd gotten stronger in more ways than one. His continued training under Michonne's wing and her methods was clearly evident—particularly in his shoulders and arms. After arriving in Alexandria, he hadn't been covering himself as much. It surprised me to see that change in his muscle definition. Not that I needed to see it to proof his increased strength. Isaac had proven himself many times: confronting the herd at Terminus, fighting the walkers on the bridge, and aiding in barricading the barn doors during the storm.

I shook my head. "I don't think you would, you know."

He smiled at me.

"Carter, heads up," I heard Rick call out.

Everyone else must have as well, because we all came to help take out the walkers. As I neared the workers, I was halted as Rick threw up a hand to stop us from getting any closer. Isaac stopped just a step behind me.

Rick was doing this now, giving the Alexandrians a chance to learn how to kill walkers. I would have recommended a more controlled approach, the way I learnt with one at a time in the woods. But the herd would be released soon and anyone who chose to join would need to be prepared to deal with multiple.

Daryl had his bow up either way.

"Use your shovels," Rick instructed. "The guns will draw more."

"Help us," Carter said as he looked at him, dropping the log he'd been carrying.

"You can do this. You need to, all of you," he ignored the plea.

A walker reached for the closest person in the line, who pushed it away with his hands. When it tried to grab him again, the man kicked him away before falling on the ground. It still shocked me how little these people had dealt with walkers in so long.

Morgan was the first to run in.

"Morgan, don't!" Rick tried calling him back, but he didn't listen.

I took off after him, as did the rest of my group. When Morgan took down the first walker, Daryl sent off a bolt into the one that got past him. My axe was in my hand as I rushed forward, kicking out the leg and swinging the axe down.

The swish of the sword sounded before I saw Michonne behind me, and she lowered the weapon to her side once she had her kill. Rick ran in on my left, taking out his knife and pushing the walker back against a tree before he plunged the blade in through its eye. Rick threw the walker to the ground.

He turned around, looking at Morgan, panting.

"You said you don't take chances anymore," was what Morgan told him.

Rick glared at him—no, not Morgan. His gaze trailed over his shoulder to the man behind him, Carter, with disappointment in his frown.

Rick, Morgan and Daryl were outside when I emerged from the house, talking. I heard the wall thrown around a few times, and I was just about to head to the armoury and the gate where Abraham was probably getting the construction supplies ready.

I didn't realise these three were waiting too.

I nodded my head as I stepped down from the porch. "We going?"

"Need some supplies from storage first," Daryl said.

I knew that much, but I nodded and followed behind Daryl anyway.

When we made it to the armoury, something was amiss. There were shadows in the window, four or five people talking inside. No—not talking, they were all facing the same way, looking at something. I held up a hand, stopping them behind me as I glanced in the window. Whoever they were, they hadn't noticed us coming.

"He heard," it sounded like someone said.

I whispered, "Something's happening in there."

"Carter, don't," a woman's voice said. "You can't."

Rick heard enough, shoving the door open to reveal Carter standing over Eugene with a gun pointed at him while he cowered on the ground. Damn. I didn't realise that I'd end up on the side of defending Eugene.

"What the hell is going on?" Rick asked, his voice low and menacing. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking this place back from you," Carter said.

I twisted to look at the armoury, where stood Olivia, Francine, Tobin and Spencer. Rick seemed to think the same thing as me as he asked, "That's what you were talking about in here?"

"That's what he was talking about," Spencer said.

A sound came from my mouth as I sent a cool smile their way. "Convenient."

Rick didn't look back at Carter as he said, "See, I would have—I would have set up some lookouts. That would have been the smart thing. You know, if I happened to—"

He jumped for his gun, taking it from his hand and throwing his foot back to kick Carter in the shin. He keeled over, and Rick cocked the gun before aiming it at the back of his head. I didn't have to reach for a weapon, no one else in the room made a move, not that I didn't glare at them out the side of my eye.

"You really think you're gonna take this community from us? From Glenn? From Michonne? From Daryl? From Ace? From me?" Rick snarled, tilting his head as he asked. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

"It was just me," Carter whispered.

"What?"

"It was—it was just me." His breath came out in short, sharp bursts as he realised what was going to happen. "Just . . . just kill me."

Whether or not he was telling the truth made no difference to me, because it had been days since Rick took charge and people were already resisting what his plans were even if it was the only thing keeping them alive. If they weren't involved, why stay around long enough to hear what

"Rick," Daryl said, flicking his hand.

My eyes trailed back to him, and then Rick.

Rick's head bobbed from side to side, and he lifted the hammer back up. "I'm good . . . I'm good."

This was probably for the best, I hated to admit. Carter was weak, and it looked like any ounce of defiance he had against Rick was gone the second he had a gun to his head. Carter was not Pete, and he was not going to kill anyone or lose it in the same way.

"You can try to work with us, you can try to survive," Rick said. "Would you do that?"

Carter agreed.

We headed back out that day to work on the wall until it was finished, with some tests pushing against it to pray that three people could simulate what would happen on a scale that was a thousand times larger than us. I put it in blind faith that it would hold.

Before the day's end, I helped the other group that had moved onto lining the sides of the road with cars. Every car park, every vehicle on the side of the road and even the RV in Alexandria we used to fortify the walls and make a path for the walkers to follow.

Carter never actually looked at me in all this time. Neither did Francine or Tobin, not that they had anything to feel sorry about, if Spencer was to be believed. I couldn't let myself pretend I could believe him, knowing what his brother was like. Still, I worked with them. I had to work with them.

The following day, Rick took us on a walk of the setup we'd built to fully explain the plan, what we needed to do. A dry run, just to ensure that the others knew what they were in for, what was expected of them.

"Alright, this is the finish line," Rick said, his hand waving up to the balloons. "When we make it to green, we fall back. The ditches and ridges will keep them on the road. We head home, but Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham take them the rest of the way, 20 miles more."

Rick began walking away without another word, and me, and the rest of them followed.

I headed for the walker that started coming off the road. It would have been better to let one of the Alexandrians do it, to practise, but I had no patience to watch them attempt it again. Rick had gotten them to make some kills the day the walls were finished, and it made my own practice look like a walk in the park.

Rick had been silent when we walked in step, today more relaxed than it would be when we next walked this path, I was sure. Though, I did not feel one bit relaxed, like my body was getting itself ready for the next day.

Finally, Rick spoke. "Isaac didn't come."

It wasn't a question.

"No, he changed his mind," I said matter-of-factly.

I tried to use a tone that would tell him he made a mistake in the way he spoke to Isaac at the meeting, a voice that reminisced of a parent trying to stop their teenager from making what they thought was a mistake. Are you sure? Maybe you should think about it.

"It's better this way," Rick told me.

I shot a glare his way, before making myself look forward. "I don't know."

"Ace, you know I like Isaac—and I trust him. I've seen him kill walkers, and if this were more like it was back on the bridge then I would have been confident that he could handle himself. But something on this scale—" Rick shook his head. "I don't know what makes him go over the edge, and I don't know how easy it is to bring him back."

"You could ask him."

"He might not tell me," Rick said. "After the flu, Hershel told me how bad he got at the prison. Glenn found him with his hands cut up, and he kept hurting himself because he kept bleeding," Ace only needed to give him a look to show him she already knew that story. "And after, when Isaac had to save his life, it was like he wasn't even there anymore."

Again, another look.

Rick was getting it.

"I know it isn't his fault, but that's just the thing—he can't control it. When it happens, how bad it gets," Rick shook his head. "What happens if he's out there and he loses himself, he can't move, won't let anyone touch him. He could die. He shouldn't be out there, not this time."

I blew a breath out of my nose. "I think that's something he should have decided once he saw the herd."

"He could have come today."

"He couldn't, you know he couldn't," I argued.

And he did, I could tell from the look on his face, the regret that was soon swamped by determination. "It's safer from him. He knows himself better than any of us, if he disagrees then he can tell me."

"You wanted them to learn," I waved a hand back to a group of the people from Alexandria, one's he'd wanted to train because they were inept at killing walkers. There was no ounce of me that compared Isaac to them, as I said, "He already knows how."

"It's different for him," Rick waved a hand in a downward motion. Then he arched his brow. "You're arguing to have him face thousands of walkers."

"I'm arguing so he can make his own decisions and not feel worthless in front of a room full of people," I corrected.

"I don't want his death over my head."

"And the rest of them?" I gave him a steely glance.

Rick gave me a look that said to hell with the rest of them. That shouldn't have been the case, but I agreed with him. We didn't know them yet, but if Rick wanted to hold control of Alexandria then he'd have to start pretending that these people mattered to him.

"I've taken too much from Isaac to have the next thing be his life," Rick said. I knew he meant his mother, that he didn't convince the others to let him take a car to get her back. "Could you imagine needing to hesitate for every walker, to question if the risk of leaving it alive is worth it?"

"No."

"Well he does, I've seen him," I would have asked when Rick had the time to watch my boyfriend hesitate his every walker kill if he hadn't started talking again (and if I ever had the confidence to outright say that word in front of Rick.) "If he comes, he'll be distracted and I will, making sure that hesitation doesn't get him killed."

I looked at him. "For your own peace of mind?"

Rick did not answer.

The next stop was a shop of some sorts. There was a sign where the roofs came up into a steady slope. RENDON EQUIPMENT SALES. The door was around the other side, the sign just to face out to the road for passers by.

"We're gonna take 'em right past here," he continued with his plan, turning to face the others again. "All that noise could distract them. We'll clear it on our way back tonight. We don't want any surprises tomorrow."

I glanced down at a walker that reached out, trapped under a tractor. Nobody made a move to kill it before we were walking again. There were no words between me and Rick as he began leading us to the quarry, the place where this all started.

It only occurred to me as I looked out over the walkers just how fucked we could have been. I had not seen it before, only going off what I had been told by Morgan and Heath and Rick. None of them should be writers, because none of what they said could have prepared me for what I had looked out across.

Rick gave us all a chance to marvel at the sight, to take in the sheer magnitude of what we were up against the next day, and in that moment I could feel the Alexandrians deciding whether or not they wanted to be a part of this anymore.

I hadn't noticed when Rick climbed on the back of one of the trucks. "I know this sounds insane, but this is an insane world. We have to come for them before they come for us, it's that simple."

"This is where it all starts tomorrow," he shouted over the sound of the walkers. Tobin gets in the truck, opens the exit and we're off, He hops out, and catches up with his team at red staying on the west side of the road." He put more emphasis on the words red and west, just to ensure that Tobin didn't get lost the next day. "Daryl gets on his bike—"

Rick couldn't finish the sentence before a bang rang out across the quarry.

"You see that?"