Maggie had the group on a strict schedule, worried about another attack.

It made sense.

His voice rang through my head, repeating the same thing through my head: 'I am Negan.'But it was wrong, so wrong. It didn't make any sense. Why would he say that if it wasn't true? It didn't seem like he wanted to throw us off, we already killed everyone else. Unless I was right before and Negan was just some kind of beloved cult figure among the Saviours, that him saying that was just normal.

But Jesus said he was a real person, didn't he? It was so hard to remember what anybody said over the past couple of days. 'Negan's the head of a group of people he calls the Saviours.' Maybe we killed him at the Satellite station, maybe there were more.

That's what Maggie was so worried about.

Since Rick had given her the chance at leadership in the Hilltop, Maggie had taken the chance to plan the reinforcements here. She even had Isaac with her a lot of the time figuring out how they could make traps that he found from old war textbooks.

She didn't have a job for me until they decided what kind of reinforcements they wanted done. I had been given the morning watch and after that, we put some spiked cars outside the fence to stop walkers—a downgrade from the spikes I built at the prison. The old design I couldn't recreate without a jackhammer.

Then I returned to the house, hoping to rest. Instead, I found Olivia waiting on the porch to hand Judith back to me so she could take inventory of the things we had brought back from the satellite station.

And that's what I was doing now.

I was lying on the ground, staring at the ceiling with my knees up, as Judith was beside me, building a tower of blocks on my stomach. I was no longer allowed to breathe because of the stern look I got when I sighed out of boredom, I was content to just relax.

That was until she got fed up with that game, and it turned into 'How long can I abuse Ace before she decides not to babysit me anymore?' The answer was shorter than expected, but nobody was around to whom I could hand the baby.

"Judith fach," I complained. "Stop it."

I tried moving her hand away, over and over again until she waved it around in frustration. She slammed the wooden block down onto my already bruised knuckles, and my hand snapped back, as I tried to shake the sharp pain out.

"Ow! That hurts you know!" She stared at me with the same blank expression she gave the bear in the corner of her crib. "Of course, you don't know, because the most pain you've ever been in was when you rolled backwards onto the ground of your own accord and hit your head on the ground."

Judith stopped swinging the block and continued staring at me. I sighed, and my head rolled back so it was straight on with the ceiling.

"And I'm victim-blaming a baby," I said to myself before my eyes met hers. "Don't tell your dad by the way. Not that you talk yet, but they think that's coming soon and I don't want your first words to be 'Ace let me hit my head on the ground and we're waiting on the bruise'. Though, you probably won't be Welsh when you say it."

Nobody will ever speak like me again.

The thought hit me like a ton of bricks, but it was the truth. When I was a kid, talking differently than everyone else was most of the charm that made people notice me, and I liked the attention—then. Now it felt like I was losing something bigger than myself.

My language, my culture, those horrid traditional red dresses and frilly top hats they used to make little kids wear on Saint David's Day. But I'd give anything to have those pictures of anyone where her eyes turn red in the glare of the camera making a stupid pose in one of those dresses.

Then again, I'd give anything to have a picture like that for any holiday.

"I wish you'd pick up my accent, so I'm not the only one," I continued. "But something tells me we're not going to see enough of each other for you to start speaking like me. I don't like that, but I'm always busy you know? And sometimes I go back to moments . . . things that I'm glad you won't remember and I don't want you around if that happens."

Or Rick if he ever loses it again . . . she didn't have to see that.

"It happens, you know? At least I don't have scary reactions to them or anything, I just get myself worked up," I stopped, thinking it over. "But that's a me problem."

A case could be made that it affected the others, that they didn't want to see me in a panic attack or something, but I doubt I'd actively work to stop it. I didn't know how, I don't think anybody did. I spoke about it with Rick in the cell, I recalled, but after that, the focus was on Carl's recovery.

And now, there was the whole threat of the Saviours. We still considered them a threat, because we didn't know anything about them. If we were so sure we killed them at the satellite station, then everyone wouldn't be out right now making more fortifications.

"I'm glad you don't remember what war is like," I said, ignoring her babbles as she plucked at the carpet with her fingers. "I'm kind of glad you're too young to be a part of these things. I promise you, I am going to be around enough to stop you from becoming like me. I want you to have a life, an actual life, where you can do something that doesn't put weight on your shoulders and you can be happy. Like, making jewellery or something . . . unless this stuff is what you want, but it weighs down on you in the end."

My chest rose as I took a steadying breath, seeing the flashes of runs gone wrong, fights I never should have been involved in. The people I killed, the Governor's men, Terminus, so many bad people. And then Zach . . .

That led me down another rabbit hole.

"There are things I wish you'd remember—people. Your mum, Beth . . ." I sighed, my throat closing up for a second. "I'll tell you about her when you can remember what I'm saying, both of them. But that's just it, isn't it? You're only going to have stories, from everyone, not just me. And I don't know about you, but I'd get sick of it."

I missed Beth so much. I rarely got the chance to think of her, and I regretted not being able to spend more time with her at the prison. Beth and I always got pushed together when we were on the road, both squished into the single beds or on armchairs when there was just no furniture.

The way she died . . . it was horrible.

Part of me wished I knew what she and Daryl went through on the road, what she said that affected him so much when he died.

"They'd only tell you the good stuff, too," I continued. "That's how you know you don't know them, what makes them seem not real. And I don't want to be the dick that drops those kinds of details—"

I glanced at her just as she reacted coincidentally to my curse word. "Don't tell your dad that either. I have got to get a handle on swearing before you start repeating people. Maybe I should start swearing in Welsh . . . do I know Welsh swear words?"

Maybe if I thought about it enough . . . wait, what was I saying?

When I got back to my train of thought, I sighed. "My dad never spoke badly about my mam after she passed, but I was older. I remember what it was like when she was in the hospital, seeing her that pale, trying to keep a smile on her face when she just wanted to lay there and cry. When I just wanted to lay there and cry . . ."

Those were some of the worst days of my life, saying goodbye to her over and over because you were never truly sure when it would happen. I swallowed the pain in my throat, a hand coming up to wipe the tears from my eyes."

"I think that's why she did it," I concluded. "Because I had the rest of my life to be sad about it, but she didn't have as long to be happy anymore."

I laid my head back on the ground, ignoring Judith pulling at my sleeve.

"And now I'm sad . . ."

I don't know why it surprised me, I always got this way remembering what it was like visiting my mother in the hospital. I didn't even get to see her as much as I wanted, because she was in a hospital in Wales so we could afford it.

"I should act happier around you too, because I've been feeling down a lot more than I've been happy lately and I don't see that changing in the future." Judith scooched closer when I grabbed her to sit her on my stomach. "We already discussed how you're not going to talk like me because of how busy I am, I don't want your only memories of me to be how sad and depressed I was, like some 1920s rich dad who works a lot and is really pissed off when they get home."

My eyes widened in realisation.

"Shit—! Fuck—! Sorry."

Judith giggled, probably more at my panicked tone rather than the swearing.

"Maybe I should talk to Denise rather than using a baby as my therapist," I said in fake revelation. "I wasn't trying to use you to get my feelings out, really I was just trying to branch out to you so you know I'm here because I might just completely repress when you're old enough to want to talk. I don't do well with the important conversations."

Like this one, this one would have been awkward if she understood the work I said.

I sighed. "I wish I was more of a baby person because you do cute stuff like that and I get all warm and fuzzy. And then you cry and I don't even want to be in the same room as you. I held you shockingly late into your life as a newborn."

More babbling, more cuteness.

"Exactly," I finished.

There was a noise in the front of the room that made me realise I hadn't noticed someone entering the house. I rolled my head back to look at Carl as he entered the living room, staring down at me with furrowed brows.

"Who are you talking to?"

I met eyes with Judith, before looking back at Carl. "Myself."

Did that make it weirder?

"Okay . . ." He hung his jacket up on the bannister. "I can take her if you want, didn't stay out for as long as I thought."

"Where have you been?" I ignored his offer mainly because it meant I'd have to stand up.

"Hanging out with Enid," he said.

"Oh, cool."

I gave Judith a look to prove how little I knew because while I'd heard the names Enid and Carl tossed around, I'd never actually seen them together. Honestly, since we got to Alexandria, I had seen less of Carl than ever before, which often worried me, especially with the new issues that arrived since he lost his eye. Even when I looked for him, he was just gone.

"Is she—?" I started on a dead end, quickly realising I knew nothing about her. "How is she?"

"Okay." He leaned down and picked Judith up with both hands under her arms. "We stay in a lot more now, there isn't much to do with everyone always working on things."

"In?" I raised a brow.

"In her house," he corrected.

I didn't know if that made me feel better or worse. Is that why they'd been MIA? "Does your dad know about her?"

"About her what?" Carl asked, but I didn't miss how he rolled his eyes as he turned away. Good, he at least looked a little annoyed, it made up for the fact that he did the same thing when me and Isaac started dating.

"About her being your girlfriend," I teased, sitting up.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he said. "Enid's just a friend."

"Oh." Did I know enough about this to be able to tell if he was lying? "But you like her?"

Again, his cheeks turned a twinge of pink and he gave me an annoyed look. "Ace."

"I can't help it, you're doing the same terrified thing talking about Enid that you did when you had that crush on—" I stopped, watching as he stared at me with narrowed eyes. He knew what I was going to say without me even having to say it. "Sorry."

I pushed myself up onto the sofa.

"I just know she was a big part of your life because she was a big part of Judith's life, and I never spoke to you about it because let's be honest, I'm terrible with these kinds of things," I said.

He was completely silent as he looked at Judith, shifting his grip so he could hold her more easily. I didn't think he was going to say anything after my rambling, the reminder of his first crush probably did not make him thrilled to be talking to me.

"I do the same thing?" He asked, sitting down beside me. "So I make it obvious, huh?"

"A little," I said and winced. "To me, at least. And Beth knew, but you were younger at the prison so I doubted that you knew what you were doing."

"Yeah, probably," he agreed quietly.

I knew how embarrassing these first stages could be, at least for me because I never really dated in school. And Carl, I mean he never got to that stage, he was still in primary school or elementary I supposed. Middle school? I never got to learn the system properly, Dad always called it primary school and comp with me.

God, he was growing up so fast.

"You think Enid knows?" I asked.

Carl nodded, his face scrunching up, but he looked happy. "Yeah. Yeah, she probably knows."

Vague. "Does Enid like you?"

"I don't know, I think so," There was a pause before he answered this time. "She's really . . . great."

I knew he was going to say something else, go more into it until he gave a sideways glance and realised who he was talking to. I winced, "I'm sorry, I know I'm not the best person to talk about these things with. I'm still working a lot of it out for myself."

"I don't think I need to talk about any of it," Carl said, sitting Judith on his lip as she tried to stand. "I like not knowing things right now. I mean, it isn't always the happiest time of my life and we don't agree on everything, but . . . it's nice. I like it."

"Oh."

"Is that not what you wanted?" He raised a brow.

"I just don't think we have a lot to talk about," I admitted.

Carl seemed offended. "We talk."

"Not so much anymore," I shook my head.

There was no time for anything. Carl and I played darts sometimes, a lot more before he started training his vision with Isaac, as they put it. That was the most shocking pair I'd ever seen because I wasn't sure either of them liked the other's company. And beyond that, Carl spent the rest of his spare time with Enid, wherever the hell that way. And I was always busy on runs or working. Carl and I just kept missing each other.

"It's not shocking, though. I'm not really good for much outside of cars or killing people . . ." I said after a while, because what good advice could I have even lent Carl if we had the chance to talk before now?

"Yes you are," he scolded. "And I don't think you're a murderer, not in a bad way, anyway."

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. "You don't?"

"I think you just end up in bad situations, a lot. But you don't actively seek them out. And every time you kill someone you get sad and guilty that you had to do it."

Had to do it. Carl believed all of my kills were necessary—he clearly had a different opinion on what we did at the satellite station. My chest both fluttered and tightened at the same time because I wanted to agree with him, I just couldn't.

"I also think you're strong," he said, completely out of the blue. "I feel safe around you because if we're in the middle of something really bad, I know you won't break down or fall apart until you know everyone else is safe. Even if you should."

And I probably should have a lot more than I gave myself an opportunity to. Carl actually thought I was strong? Was he aware of the instability within my mind when I remembered the fights we had, how panicked I got? Maybe not.

"If I wanted you to teach me anything it wouldn't be about girlfriends or anything, it would be how you can be in the scariest situations and still manage to keep a level head, at least enough to think, to keep planning and preparing for anything that could go wrong," he said.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Carl said, as if he were shocked I'd even ask. "I think you're good at it."

I gave a lopsided smile as I stared at him. For the first time in a while, I saw the same little boy that I played frustration or tag with back on the camp in Atlanta, the same child that I had to convince to do his homework even once the world had ended.

"That better?" He asked, bringing me back to the grown teenager in front of me, done with the conversation as he referred to the fact that we talked, actually talked like I wanted.

"Yeah, that should hold me for a while," I grinned.

"Cool."

"Want to play a game or something?" I asked.

Carl nodded and smiled, and for once, I felt respected.

"There's more Saviours out there."

That was the headline from Daryl when he and Rosita came back with Abraham and Eugene, now paired together from the previously separate runs. The three of them carried Eugene in through the gates with a bullet wound, a graze.

And they killed Denise.

I forward, plopping my head in my hands as I listened to Abraham describe what happened out there. It was the same person who had taken Daryl's bike, Dwight, they learnt his name today. But this time they mentioned a burn on one side of his face.

None of them knew how it happened.

"So we didn't get them all," I offered uselessly from my hunched-over position.

"No."

There was a hand on my back, Michonne, rubbing up and down as if to try and make me feel better.

"That is why we're working on the reinforcements, preparations," Maggie said from the altar. "We were ready for something like this. Now we have to keep working, "

"They were mad about the attack on the satellite station." Carol was quiet as she spoke a few rows back beside Tobin. It wasn't like her, but she had been like this since we found them in the warehouse after they killed the Saviours that had kidnapped them.

"This is so stupid," I finally lifted my head. "It's just revenge for the sake of revenge."

"They wanted our community, our things," Abraham said.

"They do that to everyone," I said. "They didn't have to kill Denise because they wanted you to let them into our community, they needed a hostage to do something like that. They killed Denise because we killed their people at the satellite station."

Daryl bristled at my statement. "We did that because they attacked us on the road."

"We did that because we needed food. You got back at them on the road when you blew up an entire group of people," I reminded him. "They were pissed, and they retaliated. If we attack them again, it's just going to be that over and over again, endless fucking killing. What's the point?"

"The point is to stop them from taking our supplies like they do with the Hilltop," Maggie said. "And we have to plan another attack to take them out to keep up our deal with Gregory."

I ran my hands over my face. "I don't know, I think we'd all fare better if we just left each other alone."

"You want to give them free rein of the Hilltop? A chance to attack this place?"

"Both sides are just losing people," I said. "If we had the means of finding out about them, how many people they have left, then I'd say we attack them. But we don't even know where they are anymore. We don't know how many weapons they still have. We don't know how many people they have—actually, it must be enough that they can still spare people to attack us."

"So what are ya sayin'?" Daryl seemed mad at my rant.

"I'm saying we hunker down for a while, send out small run groups that can get around without being seen. Get our farms up and running," I listed. "The best case scenario at this point is that they have another outpost worth of people, worst case, multiple. We need time, a plan, information."

"We can ask Jesus to scout them out," I continued, because the more I spoke the more sense it made in my head to keep talking. "If they're still taking the Hilltop supplies then he can follow them back to their base, like he did with us. Jesus can get places without being seen, get us locations, layouts, numbers—information. We don't have to rush something like this."

"She's got a point," Rick said the other side of Michonne. "We have the resources to last us a while now, we don't have to rush. And Jesus would be good at something like this."

Morgan had been oddly silent in this debate, I had to glance over my shoulder to see if he was still there. Not killing people was something he cared so desperately about that it surprised me to see him sitting in silence, leant back in the pew with his arms crossed.

Last I heard, he reinforced the cell where me and Rick were locked away with cinder blocks and a metal door he welded together. He did that to give us another chance, so we didn't have to kill the next group of people, I think. In all honesty, it came a little out of the blue for me.

"This is stupid," Daryl waved a hand dismissively. "We don't need his help."

"And that depends on if we can Gregory on board," Maggie argued.

"Please," I scoffed. "We could sneak Jesus out on a parade float and Gregory wouldn't know the fucking difference. He's too far up his own arse, we could keep Jesus away for fucking weeks before he'd start to notice that maybe something is different."

"It could be worth asking him," Abraham agreed with me. "Making sure they're on our side even with some Saviours still alive."

There was a silence in the room as Maggie mulled over the idea . . . it was weird that it came down to Maggie to make this decision, but since she'd been working with Deanna Rick had trusted her more to lead. I knew how to convince Rick, knew what to say to make him see what I was saying and if he didn't agree with me then he'd do what he wanted anyway.

But Maggie pushed back more than Rick, more arguing and it seemed like she wasn't considering what I said as much as Rick. I guess this is what it was like being on the other side; she already talked about these things with Daryl or Isaac and they already had a plan in mind that nobody truly knew yet.

Is this what me and Rick had been doing? And why wasn't I being consulted about these things? Did I have to go to her personally? It felt like I was being pushed aside and I didn't understand whether I should have been doing more to make myself heard.

"We can ask," she finally agreed. "But we still have work to here. Isaac and I have been working on some ideas and we're trying to find some materials we can use to get them working. We've also been talking about using the top of the apartment buildings as a watch lookout, it's high up and faces the front of the community, but it's interior so we won't have to be worried about someone running a van into it or something."

"Road spikes?" I asked.

"What?"

"Another way to stop trucks hitting us," I clarified.

"We've got them planned," Isaac said, looking over from the other bench. "We're working on it."

I nodded, clasping my hands together with my fingers interlocked as my eyes found the ground again. Right . . . they'd already planned it.

"I'm also having Isaac make a map of this place so we can mark down important locations for an attack, traps, choke points we make, spikes," Maggie addressed the crowd. "We need these precautions, especially since we know there are still threats out there, the Saviours, the people that attacked Ace."

I swallowed, breathing out a sigh.

"Any questions?" There was silence in response; everyone seemed pretty confident. "Good, we're done for the rest of the day. Everyone knows what they should be doing tomorrow."

There was chatter as the meeting was dismissed, and the group began to file out of the church. I stood, my shirt rising as I tried to stretch out the cricks in my back. As I did so, I turned to Rick and Michonne who sounded like they were planning something.

Rick seemed to notice my interest because he filled me in. "We're cooking a dinner and all eating together tonight," Rick said. "None of us are working, so I thought it would be a good time to get in a family dinner before we start planning for another fight."

It made sense, a little. I assumed he just meant everyone in our house, because "Yeah, that sounds good. Is Daryl coming?"

"We asked him," he said, glancing back over his shoulder, "but after today, I don't think so. Glenn and Maggie said they were going to have a meal themselves tonight too. Even if it's just us, Carl and Judith, it should still be nice. I was thinking that maybe you'd want to ask Isaac if he wanted to join."

My eyebrows shot up. "You want him there?"

"I was thinking you would," he clarified. "But, yeah. It would be nice if he came too. It's up to the two of you."

"We want him there," Michonne said over the top of him, giving Rick a scolding look out of the corner of her eye.

"I can ask," I said, turning away from Rick and Michonne.

I walked over to Isaac who stood up when he saw me coming. He placed a gentle hand on my forearm when I was close enough, leaning down for a kiss on the cheek, "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah," I smiled, trying to kiss him back before he straightened up. "Rick wants to know if you want to come over for dinner," I said. "They're doing a big mean, uh, a bigger meal, I mean, for me, Michonne, Carl, Judith. He just wanted to know if you wanted to come over for dinner."

"I can. But me and Maggie were going to go over some plans while we eat," he said.

"Go," Maggie said as she was passing, and stopped to pat Isaac on the back encouragingly. "Glenn wanted a night to ourselves, so this would be a good time to do it, rather than just kicking you out. We can pick up where we were tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," he told Maggie as she left, and turned to me. "I can come for dinner."

"Okay."

Isaac grabbed my wrist before I could turn away. "But first, are you okay? You just seemed a little panicked just now, I was a little worried about you."

"I don't know, just feeling a little out of the loop," I said. "But hey, you're all big and important with the drawing the maps, huh?"

"Yeah, it's been good. Then again, trying to keep up with the architecture studies and researching for traps with Maggie is a lot of work," he said. "That's why I haven't been around for a little while."

"I bet," I agreed.

"We could talk about plans," he offered. "If you wanted to feel more included, that is. Or you can join me and Maggie and help us come up with some ideas. I told her about how you controlled the bomb at the Satellite Station. You did that, didn't you? Because you knew exactly when it was going to go off."

I nodded, swallowing the guilt that came up with the memory. "Yeah, I used a car lock and key."

"Maggie was wondering if there was a way you could make them motion activated maybe, like mines," he said.

"I don't know, that'd waste a lot of supplies on walkers, potentially. And it'd be kind of dangerous if people patrol around the area," I said. Knowing my luck I'd forget where my own bomb was and step on it. "I mean, we could make them more obvious, but if we wanted it for the enemies then they might see them too."

"We can work it out," he promised, "at least for attacks."

He stopped talking as Rick and Michonne walked over, Rick being the one to greet him, "Hey, Isaac. You coming over for dinner."

"Yeah, I'm free," he agreed.

"Good," Michonne clapped a hand on his shoulder, before giving him a look and squeezing. "Hey, that's pretty firm. Still training, huh?"

"A little," Isaac pushed her hand off.

"It's good," she checked his muscle again. "Good progress."

Isaac shook his head with a chuckle. "Yeah, I'm starting to regret it."

Michonne continued to poke and prod at his shoulders and arms, teasing him as we walked back to the house together. I couldn't help the smile as Isaac picked up the pace and Michonne chased after him, ruffling his hair as he tried to get away.

I walked beside Rick. "Thanks for inviting him."

"Yeah," Rick smirked and met my eyes. "He isn't staying the night."

I groaned, my head rolling back.

Carl was still babysitting when we returned home.

Rick and Michonne set the three of us up with a card game while they began making dinner for the six of us. The rest of the night we played board games, ate a family dinner and talked. It was nice, something I hadn't anticipated, but which we had done more.