- Cass's POV -

Aaron bangs on the gate four times as the rest of us stand behind him waiting restlessly, tension building with every hollow blow of his knuckles on metal.

My gut wrenches at the loud rusting in the bushes to the left of us, making the group quickly draw our weapons, all immediately turning at the possible threat. My grip on my rifle is iron-tight as I aim in the general direction of the noise, my chest rising and falling quickly with panic, my gaze darting around quickly, searching for the source. Daryl, whose closest, fires his crossbow with near to no hesitation.

Lowering my rifle, I lean forward to peer across Rick's figure to watch as Daryl snatches up a now-dead possum by its tail, making a slight smile quirk at my mouth. Just Daryl being Daryl.

The gate gets pulled open loudly, drawing my attention back to the front of Alexandria, my chest constricting with anxiety. When I look back, Aaron is standing beside a clean stranger looking at us suspiciously, adjusting his automatic rifle on his shoulder. He must be their gate guard or something.

The guard has short brown hair, dark beady eyes, and a sour look on his face as he spots Daryl holding the possum carcass, clear distaste in his gaze.

"We brought dinner." Daryl grunts roughly. I have to duck my head to hide my smirk of amusement when I catch the revolted expression on the guard's face.

Aaron assures the guard that we're okay, before walking past the threshold into the community, waving us to follow him. After sparing a nervous glance at my family members as they walk in, I follow.

The nineteen of us cautiously venture past the open gate into the wide and spotless road that goes off in three directions, lined with trees, greenbelts, and homes. I'm taken aback by the high-quality houses lining the streets, the well-manicured lawns, and in the distance, what seems to be brick townhomes.

"Sasha." Rick mutters, making me look over to see our sharpshooter turn and aim her rifle through the gaps of the just-closing gate. She takes down a walker fifteen feet away with a single headshot, making pride flow through me. Especially when I see the look of surprise on the guard's face.

"It's a good thing we're here," Rick mutters under his breath, making me nod in agreement as I examine their 'guard'. He looks like he's never killed a damn walker yet he's looking at us like we're the abnormal ones.

Feeling too much irritation looking at his dopey face, I focus back on the new community we've entered into. I'm amazed at how everything is so put together and pleasant while strangely seeming lived in. Unlike Woodbury, which felt like a set for a t.v show- a cheery and perfect facade for the dark reality hiding behind it.

This place, on the other hand, feels weirdly comforting. It's impressive too when I notice the rows of solar panels on a nearby greenbelt. I wonder if they have electricity.

"Before we take this any further, I need you all to turn over your weapons." The guard with the sour face orders us, blinking nervously as the group shifts to glare at him with distrust.

... What?

"Wanna stay? You hand them over." He repeats in a slightly wavering voice, squinting at us in the bright sunlight, sweat gleaming on his tall forehead.

"We don't know if we want to stay." Rick states roughly, stepping forward intimidatingly, his revolver at the ready in his hand, the metal barrel glinting in the spotty sun.

"It's fine, Nicholas," Aaron assures the guard, stepping in and glancing between us and Nicholas worryingly.

"If we were going to use them? We would've already." I inform Nicholas simply, my voice low as my hands rest on the rifle strapped across my chest. My hardened gaze watches as the man looks over at me, blinking in bewilderment.

"Let them talk to Deanna first." Aaron tells Nicholas calmly, clearly trying to keep the peace between our somewhat feral group and this doofus. After spending some time with us, Aaron seems to understand that we need our weapons with us and won't use them against his people unless necessary.

"Who's Deanna?" Abraham snaps impatiently from the back.

"She knows everything you'd want to know about this place," Aaron assures us, glancing around at the gathered group watching him with concern. "Rick, why don't you start?" Aaron suggests, turning to him.

Rick speaks with Deanna inside her fancy white house while the rest of us wait outside. We're gathered in a courtyard beside her house with brick walls enclosing the small area, shaded pleasantly by a tall oak tree. Perched on a half wall beside my family, I bounce Judith on my knee absentmindedly as my eyes skim our new surroundings.

The fancy landscaping, the cleared streets, the sounds of distant laughter in nearby homes. It's like we've been transported back in time. Back when life was safe and simple.

I hate it.

It's jarring and uncomfortable to experience. After everything that happened to us. Even at the prison, when we were at our best, it was nothing like this. We were still aware of what was going on outside.

My examination of the community comes to a halt as I notice Aaron helping Eric into a small house down the street, laughing as they try to get the injured man up the stairs. They must be going to the infirmary Eric mentioned. The one Noah said had a surgeon that could help his leg. The door shuts behind the laughing couple, making me look away once again.

Smiling to myself slightly, I feel a little more at ease. Knowing that Aaron and Eric are the type of people who live here, makes me feel less worried.

Then a small part of me fears that's the whole point. To make us feel at ease and relax before the trap snaps into place and were fucked.

"How are you feelin'?" Maggie asks me softly, turning to face me. I spare a look at my concerned friend to the left of me, gathering my thoughts to attempt to answer the question.

"Less conflicted now, but... still a bit on edge," I tell her honestly, glancing past her familiar face at our unfamiliar surroundings. Searching again, for any sign of danger. Maggie nods understandingly to my words, the strands of hair not collected in her small ponytail blowing across her face in the breeze.

"That's fair. Me and Michonne talked and we both have good feelings about this place," She assures me, making me nod with a slight smile, glancing at Michonne across the courtyard, sitting in the shade beside Tara as they speak quietly. I hope Michonne and Maggie are right. I really do.

Before I can answer her, the door opens loudly behind us, and I stand up quickly to see Rick coming towards us, a strange expression on his face.

"How'd it go?" I question him worryingly, searching his face as he walks down the white steps of the house.

Rick pauses, his blue eyes darting to the side, clearly thinking deeply. Just seeing this, knowing he isn't instantly telling us we need to get the hell out of here, is giving me immediate relief.

He's okay with it. For now.

"Good. She wanted your next." Rick tells me and I nod with slightly widened eyes, my chest tightening with anxiety. What's so special about me?

Rick reaches out to grab Judith for me but I shake my head with a sheepish smile, keeping the baby girl tight in my arms.

"I need the moral support," I admit lowly, making Rick smile slightly before nodding with approval. He holds the door open for me and I thank him with a grin before walking into the house.

Intimidation floods my senses as I take in the extremely nice room around me, the grin dropping from my face.

It's simply beautiful. Not a trace of dust or blood on the floors or walls or anything for that matter. There's a slight scent of lemon cleaner, the lingering smell of some sort of chicken that must have been cooked recently, and a manufactured vanilla aroma. Like there's a candle lit somewhere to hide the smell of the cooked food that made my stomach twist slightly with hunger.

The impressive home has dark hardwood floors that are definitely real wood, tall ceilings with crown molding adorning them, and large bright windows in almost every corner, brightening up the place.

I round the corner into what must be the main living space to see a small woman with a surprisingly stern-looking face, a brown bob, and a work-friendly cardigan. Deanna. She stands up with a wide smile, her hands clasped in front of her, much shorter than I expected.

The room she's situated in has a back wall consisting completely of built-in bookshelves stocked full of worn and new books alike, shoved in all directions to fit. Just the presence of them weirdly soothes me.

"Welcome, please make yourself comfortable," Deanna tells me warmly, gesturing to the armchair across from the dark leather couch she was previously waiting on.

"I'm Deanna Monroe" She introduces herself over the sound of my footsteps echoing in the room as I walk over to the designated interview spot.

Glancing suspiciously at the camcorder on a tripod facing the chair, I gingerly sit down, placing Judith back on my lap. I perch her on my thigh, facing me, keeping my hands securely on her as her wide brown eyes curiously look around the new surroundings.

Copying the baby in front of me, I take in the open-concept room. The cream and white marble kitchen in the back, the patio beyond the windows overlooking some more bright green trees, and the stereo nearby with a considerable stack of CDs beside it.

"So, Cass- Can I call you Cass?" Deanna asks politely, tilting her head to the side, making her well-trimmed bob sway slightly as I focus my attention on her.

"No. Cassandra." I correct her shortly, holding Judith tighter as I try to relax in this beautiful, spotless room. I feel like a sewer rat, dirtying everything I touch, standing out like an unclean sore thumb against the nice furniture and white walls.

"Fair enough, Cassandra," Deanna repeats purposefully, not seeming remotely offended as her intense gaze studies me for a moment, adjusting the clipboard on her lap.

"I'm recording our conversation, is that alright?" She questions me, glancing at the camcorder and the blinking red light. My eyes dart over to the reflective lens, a strange feeling fluttering through me seeing technology again. I don't think I've been on camera since before the turn.

"If that's important to you." I respond after a beat of silence, dragging my eyes from the glass lens and back to Deanna's thoughtful expression as she watches me.

She has an intense gaze but it doesn't make me feel uncomfortable. Not like Dawn's did. Maybe it's the unwavering confidence, dignity, and strange sense that she already knows me that makes me feel more at ease.

"It is important. To keep a record, for all the people in Alexandria's future to experience. I believe in full transparency." Deanna answers me with a sense of pride, making my eyebrows raise slightly. It's hard to comprehend thinking that far into the future. After simply hoping for tomorrow to come, thinking about a distant future down the line seems laughable.

"A little about me. I was a congressperson. Ohio. 15th District." Deanna tells me in her slightly deep and raspy voice, the corners of her mouth lifting with pride. The way she presents herself suddenly makes a lot of sense.

"That must have been difficult," I comment, making something flash across her expression.

"I'm a great campaigner." Deanna counters, tilting her head with an amused smile that makes the wrinkles deepen beside her eyes.

"But you're still a woman. It's never easy for us." I point out simply. Deanna lifts her chin, squinting her eyes as if trying to read me, approval evident in her expression.

"I knew I would like you. A leading woman, just like me. You understand." Deanna insists, leaning forward passionately. Before I have a second to ask what she means, she speaks again.

"What was your occupation, before?" She asks me, looking so normal and pre-turn in her cardigan and clean hair it's hard to take her seriously.

I scoff slightly, tilting my head as I assess her with distrust. "Does it matter?" I question, honestly wanting to know why. In my case, my medical experience does matter despite the fact that my MD should be revoked for the things I've done. But if I worked in sales how in the world would it benefit this community?

Things changed too much since then.

An amused smile quirks across Deanna's sharp face. "Funny. Your husband said the same thing," She comments, the corners of her mouth turned down as she hides her smile of amusement, a twinkle in her eye.

Her words make me go rigid.

"My... husband?" I ask her, eyebrows raised with slight astonishment. Didn't realize I had one of those.

"Yes- Rick." Deanna confirms, furrowing her brows. "Are you not married? I thought-"

"-You thought wrong." I interrupt Deanna sternly, making her mouth close quickly, shock flashing across her expression. "Rick and I aren't even together," I inform her, hating that this stranger thinks she knows me or my relationships.

Deanna looks visibly and genuinely stunned. "Oh. Well, Aaron informed us of what he and Eric observed from the group. The couples they reported included Glenn and Maggie, Abraham and Rosita, and finally, you and Rick. They assumed that it was a marriage because of Rick's wedding ring and your two children." Deanna explains herself, nudging her head to Judith in my lap.

I look down with a sigh, fighting the anger brewing in my chest and the conflicting butterflies swirling deep in my belly at Aaron and Eric assuming Rick and I are married.

Are my feelings for him that obvious?

"Just because you have your sneaky men out there listening to our private conversations doesn't mean you know anything about us." I snap, holding Judith closer to me, bouncing my leg slightly in the hopes my anger doesn't affect her.

A twinge of guilt goes through me from saying that about Eric and Aaron since I'm beginning to like them. But still- they don't really know us. And they were wrong.

All they need to do is ask one person in our group and they will quickly be informed that Rick was happily married and I was just committed to someone. He may have been a fucking spy and liar so I guess it wasn't really a relationship but still-

Judith's hand comes up to grab the strands of my hair closest to her, shaking me out of my racing thoughts. "Ma-ma," She giggles happily, her voice soft and sweet. I smile down at her gratefully, not having the strength to keep it off my face. She's just so precious sometimes that she immediately relaxes me.

Feeling another pair of eyes on me, I glance back over at Deanna, my smile fading when I see her expectant expression watching the two of us.

I sigh heavily.

"It's a long story, alright? One that's none of your business. All you need to know is that I care about Judith like I would if she were my own daughter. And if anyone tries to separate us or hurt her- I will kill them." I assure her, steadfast in my dedication to the baby in my arms. I've done it before.

Deanna's eyebrows raise. "Noted." She voices simply with a nod, clear respect behind her blue eyes.

With a deep sigh, I look out the window to the right of me, watching Noah limp down the road with Beth to look at the nearby man-made lake. Sophia and Carl trail behind them, looking around curiously.

"Aaron told Noah there's a surgeon here. One who could perform surgery on his leg." I comment, turning to look at the woman in front of me. Deena smiles and nods proudly.

"We do." She confirms.

"How is that possible? Do you have a sterile OR? How in the world can you do elective procedures here?" I demand with astonishment, searching her eyes for answers. We could do surgeries at the prison if need be, but it was always only for emergencies. It was way too much of a risk otherwise.

Deanna's calculated gaze takes me in, sitting back against her leather couch as she purses her thin lips. "You know medicine." She determines, making a slight sense of defeat flutter through me.

Damnit.

After talking with Carol for a moment in the courtyard, she convinced me under her breath that not letting them know all our skills is smart. And I don't intend for them to know I'm a surgeon. Not yet.

I nod. "Some." I respond shortly, looking down at Judith's overalls to hide my lie.

"We have an infirmary converted from one of the smaller homes. There, our surgeon Pete conducts a wide variety of healthcare. I'm sure he could use assistance from you. There's also Denise, who went to medical school, but she's not too fond of practicing. Were you a nurse?" Deanna questions me, tilting her head to the side with curiosity as my eyes slide up to meet hers.

Funny how things never change.

Despite fighting against the patriarchy to become a congresswoman, she still assumes I'm a nurse instead of a surgeon. Still stuck in the way things used to be.

"Something like that," I confirm simply, squinting my eyes ever so slightly as I lie surprisingly well considering my poor ability. They don't need to know what we know, just as Carol said.

And it's better to be underestimated than taken advantage of.

"Well, that's good. One of our most crucial characteristics here is our walls. Of course; this sustainable community didn't have them to begin with. We found out there was a large mall being built nearby. So my husband, who used to be a professor of architecture, designed and built the walls with the help of our community. And they've kept us safe every day since." Deanna explains to me, making me glance out past the numerous green trees outside the nearest window, only seeing a sliver of the rusted metal wall above the roofs.

"So, what you did before is meaningful. And with Pete," She sighs heavily, making me look over at her with curiosity. Blinking, she shakes her head and clears her throat. "He can get... overwhelmed with his workload. Having someone with experience to help out would be invaluable." Deanna explains with emphasis, crossing her legs and resting her clasped hands on her knee.

I let out a steady exhale and nod, wondering if this surgeon will be one of those pain-in-the-ass doctors who refuse to accept help all the while looking down upon nurses. I saw more than enough of those assholes in my career. Whether he will respect me because I'm another surgeon or respect me as a person would be good to know from the get-go.

"I respect that," I tell Deanna simply, understanding that she wants to keep her community running strong. Through my peripheral vision, I see her smile.

"Perfect. Mutual respect is essential. Can I ask if you believe the rest of your family will feel the same?" Deanna asks me curiously, and this time I make direct eye contact with her.

"With us? Respect is earned." I inform her strongly, leaning forward to stress my point.

"We aren't going to respect you just because everyone else here does. We've seen terrible leaders be respected by their people- it doesn't mean shit." I tell her frankly, making her eyebrows raise as she nods once.

"We have to know we can trust you first," I inform her simply, staring at her from under my eyebrows. "We've trusted before and been burned for it. So it will take time. I just ask that you be patient. If it's our respect and trust that you want." I clarify, glancing down at the sweet girl in my lap to distract myself. Judith blinks up at me, swaying in that baby-like way, her mouth wordlessly opening and closing adorably.

"Of course." Deanna assures me before standing up, holding her hand out for me to shake.

"Well, Cassandra. Welcome to Alexandria."

I look up at her before standing, towering over her slightly at my 5'7 while she must be 5 feet. Readjusting Judith so she sits on my hip, I shake Deanna's hand, making the older woman smile.

"Hey, Mom? I was just- oh." A male voice travels from the other side of the room, making me look over to see a good-looking man around my age walk into the room by the kitchen. He blinks at me and his mother, seeming slightly shocked that I'm here.

"Spencer, I told you. They need their space today." Deanna reminds her son sternly, dropping my hand and turning to him with exasperation. My stomach flinches hearing his name, fighting sudden nausea at the reminder of the last Spencer.

"Sorry, I didn't realize." The man says to his mother, and I look up to see his gaze darting from his mother to me. "I'm Spencer. You are...?" He trails off, looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to give him my name.

Clearing my throat, I push past the memory of my aggravating ex to answer him. "Cassandra." I fill in for him, making him grin, a dimple growing on his right cheek as he does.

"Nice to meet you, Cassandra," he says smoothly, glancing at his mother once before disappearing around the corner.

Following my interview and strange introduction to Deanna's son, I stand outside with Rick, Aaron, and Carl as the rest of our family continues their interviews.

I stare up at the two houses in front of me with shock, having been just told by Aaron that they're for us.

The one to the left is a light grey two-story with white windows and trim. It has a covered porch that wraps around the right corner of the house with trees shading it on either side and a yellow front door.

The one next door, only about five feet away, has one large porch spanning the entire front of the house with a red front door and beige paneling. It seems bigger, from the look of the side.

"They're both... ours?" I ask quietly, blinking in shock before I glance over at Aaron.

"Yep." He grins before leaning closer to me. "If I were you, I would claim the one on the left. Better curb appeal," He jokes lowly. This time, in stark contrast to back at the barn yesterday, I smile at his joke.

"Well, if you guys need anything, just call me," Aaron tells us kindly as he begins to walk away. He pauses before turning back, an awkward smile on his face. "I- we don't have phones. I live four doors down, the one with the flower beds outside. Don't mind the state of the roses, there was a storm, and- you don't care, never mind. Enjoy!" He calls out before turning and leaving us for real this time.

After exchanging looks, the three of us decide to check them out.

Rick clicks open the yellow front door of the house on the left cautiously. Carl is right behind him with Judith bouncing along in his arms, his head swiveling as he looks around the house. Apprehension grips my gut as I walk in behind them gingerly, concerned that it's all a trap.

I'm taken aback by the cool conditioned air hitting me as I walk in and the pleasant clean smell circulating the house. It's miles different from the stuffy mildew smell of the prison.

The windows are crystal clear like someone just wiped them with that one blue cleaner that I used to swear by. There's not a trace of that familiar filth layered on everything else in the world. It's like this community is living under a little bubble, completely shielded from the death and decay outside its walls.

The first level is an open floorplan, adorned with the same hardwood floors that Deanna's place has. It's fully furnished with empty frames stacked on a bench beside the front door. As if we just carry all our family photos with us.

Rick and Carl slowly walk in with wonder as we take in the spacious house. Closing the door behind me, I gulp as I examine the high-quality design. The tall ceilings, the large windows, the nice decor, and the shiny new hardware.

The furniture seems to be right out of a catalog. It all looks so expensive yet comfortable. The walls are painted a calming grey beige, all clean and shiny. The recessed lighting is on, shining brightly down on us. I stop, blinking up at the light bulb shining steadily above me.

Is this real?

My attention is shifted to the white kitchen around the corner, lit up by a large square window with bright sunlight streaming through onto the marble countertops and stainless steel appliances. Carl pulls the lever of the sink on the island, making water thunder out of the tap, splattering onto the basin beneath it.

A slight gasp leaves my lips seeing it. The horrific feeling of extreme thirst I felt only two days ago is clear in my mind as I watch Carl shut off the tap. And they've just had free access to water like this? The whole time?

Carl grins like a kid again, looking at us with excitement behind those suddenly child-like eyes of his.

So, if there's water-

"I call the first shower." Carl grins with wide and eager eyes.

"Once we've cleared it." Rick tells his son sternly, who nods, looking aside with slight disappointment as he remembers what our reality is.

So we clear it.

We finish investigating the bottom floor before venturing up the stairs. After trekking up the hardwood stairs, looking around with wonder the whole time, we reach the second-floor landing.

The landing is simply a hallway connecting the two halves of the upper floor. On the left half, is a bedroom with two sport-themed twin beds with a jack-and-jill bathroom connected to the secondary room.

The secondary room is painted a soft yellow with a crib placed against the far wall. Seeing this, Rick and I glance at each other with surprise. There is also a coat closet nearby stocked with towels, blankets, and a few winter coats.

On the right half of the landing, which you have to cross to get to, are two bedrooms. One is a guest room presumably, with a double bed and simple furniture. Across from it is the master.

It's slightly bigger than the guest bedroom, with what I assume must be a lavishly large bathroom attached and a his-and-hers closet.

"I'm guessing that's yours," I say lowly to Rick, nudging my head to the master with a grin as Carl explores the kid's rooms with interest.

Rick shakes his head, adjusting his daughter, passed onto him from his son, in his well-built arms. "I don't care what room I have. Either way, we should all stay here downstairs tonight. Together." Rick decides, letting out a slight sigh, his lingering stress evident on his features.

I nod, worry twisting my stomach as I remember we can't relax just yet. We need to stay alert. As a precaution.

"Just in case," I agree, nodding, chewing my bottom lip absentmindedly.

"But- if this place works out, we can figure out who can stay where. I think the other place has more rooms." Rick says thoughtfully, glancing at the window that faces the side of the second house.

"Can I ask to stay wherever Judith is?" I request softly, poking Judith's little belly as she smiles lazily, too nervous to look up at her father. I'd also like to stay near him, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Of course you can stay," Rick assures me gently, making my eyes fly to meet his soft and earnest gaze. "There's plenty of room. And Judith would probably be a nightmare without you around," Rick adds, amusement behind his crinkled eyes, sending a wave of reassurance through me as I beam back at him.

"I'm showering!" Carl calls, before slamming his bathroom door. At the sound of a noisy shower getting turned on, I snort in amusement. God, a shower sounds incredible.

"You go first," Rick says abruptly, making me turn to him, indignant.

"I-"

"We're not doing what we did at the hospital. I'll go after you. Just shower." Rick tells me warily, making me sigh seeing the exhaustion behind his gaze.

Some part of me deep down points out that I would very much like this to end just as the hospital did. Of course, instead of sharing a bed, we would share a shower... I take a sharp inhale.

But that's a ridiculous thought. A thought that, despite me being fully aware of its absurdity, suddenly sends a rush of intense desire through my veins.

"O-okay. I'll be right back then." I breathe, making relief flutter across Rick's expression as he nods with approval. Clearly, he's relieved that for once I'm not being stubborn.

I send him a sheepish smile before walking into the master bedroom and closing the door behind me. After hearing him walk away and down the stairs all the while talking softly to Judith, I sigh, leaning my forehead against the door.

I attempt to reel back my inappropriate feelings for a moment, clenching my eyes shut. Then I turn and walk through the master to get to the bathroom in the back.

As I walk in and look up, I falter with surprise. It's huge- probably the size of the first studio apartment I rented out of med school. It has a double vanity that matches the kitchen, with the same cabinets and marble countertops. On the other side of the room are a white clawfoot bathtub and an oversized walk-in shower nestled in the corner.

My eyebrows raise as I walk into the spotless room, realizing just how big that shower is- it could easily fit four people inside, with a little bench to sit on on the side just in case showering gets a little too tiring. Inside are a few unlabeled containers of shampoo and conditioner, a handful of disposable razors, and a few bars of soap.

Gulping as I suddenly feel daunted by the extremely nice and clean room surrounding me, my gaze finds the sparkling silver showerhead. Recognizing it, I realize it was one I had seen in a home magazine before the turn that advertised a new technology that made it feel like showering in the rain.

My stomach twists remembering that the last time I "showered' was in the rain. And that rain was the only reason me and my family didn't die.

Shaking my head, I remind myself that Rick is waiting downstairs waiting for his shower so I reach in and fiddle with the handle, attempting to figure out how to work it. You would think, I made it through eight years of schooling, completed complicated surgeries on a day-to-day basis, and became somewhat proficient at killing people resurrected from the dead- you would think this could be simple for me.

I jump back in shock as I must do something right, water suddenly erupting out of the showerhead before pounding against the tile and glass.

Feeling like a caveman discovering new technology, I adjust the temp for it to be hot and step back to give it time to heat up.

Kicking off my muddy and blood-splattered boots first, I then unbutton my faded and torn jeans, tugging them down my legs. I cringe as I pull off my ratty t-shirt, especially when it snags against some of my unwashed hair.

I haven't changed my clothes in over three weeks. On the road, it doesn't matter. My appearance was the last thing on my mind. But here? Compared to these people, I feel like a troll.

After removing my underwear, I wince at the sweat stains tainting all of my clothes, and the dirt and blood that has stuck to them. Compared to the white tile they're sitting on, they look incredibly dirty.

Ugh.

Suddenly completely repulsed, I kick the pile of clothes away from me, before stepping quickly into the shower, which has just begun to heat up.

The sensation of the powerful water streaming on my scalp first then gushing down the rest of my body, cannot be described as anything but orgasmic. It's incredible to experience the sensation of the strong water pressure washing away the layer of dirt that has accumulated over the last three months.

I turn, allowing the water to pound against my face and letting out a sigh of contentment. God, that feels so good. I spin again to rinse my hair, attempting to run my hands through it. Feeling how tangled and dirty it feels, I cringe and immediately begin shampooing.

I end up having to shampoo my hair four times, not realizing how much it has grown since the prison. I apply conditioner to my ends and as it soaks in, I wash my body, finding immense pleasure in seeing the visible dirt wash off me and flow down the drain.

Once clean, I grab the green disposable razor and get the satisfaction of being able to remove the body hair that has been accumulating for months.

Before the turn, I meticulously waxed, primped, and primed every time I showered. I had multiple different types of scrubs and lotions, each of which gave me a different type of flowery or fruity scent.

And I don't need that again. Nothing has made me realize how ridiculous it was until now. But simply being able to drag the razor across my legs, removing the prickly hair that had amassed with that familiar crackling sound- makes me feel normal again.

I can remove my under-arm hair, leaving it smooth and easy to apply the much-needed deodorant later. Glancing down, I tilt my head, questioning if I should shave everywhere. Biting my lip, I decide on doing my bikini line, just to feel a bit more put together.

And who knows, I could be possibly making myself more presentable for... someone.

My stomach flutters, desire burning between my legs imagining a scenario in which that could be true. Usually, I would chastise myself for even thinking something so unreasonable.

It could be the scalding water running down my body or the fact that I feel like a person again- but I decide to let myself imagine. I allow myself to indulge. For the first time in months.

My eyes flutter closed, leaning my head back as I imagine Rick walking up behind me. Imagining his comforting presence surrounding me, his warm hands caressing my bare torso before pulling me backward, flush into him. Like the hospital, but this time, no clothes or boundaries. Just us.

I Imagine the sensation of his strong profile pressed against my neck as his rough hands travel across my wet skin, trailing lower and lower. Pleased sighs escape my lips as I drag my hands exactly where I want his, lust coursing through my veins. I can almost feel the sensation of his scratchy beard on my skin as his fingers ease that growing need pulsing desperately between my legs.

How quickly I would fold in his arms, falling against him in pleasure, my wet skin pressed against his. God, he has no idea the power he has over me- how deeply I want him.

A gasp escapes my mouth at how close I am already as my fingers work quickly. After so long of nothing, I'm not surprised it's happening so fast. And Rick tends to have that effect on me.

Simply imagining Rick's rumbling voice in my ear as he murmurs sweet nothings while his fingers work deftly, his hard body pressed firmly against mine, sends surges of desire between my legs.

His soothing voice calls me beautiful, telling me I'm the only woman he's ever wanted.

I muffle a cry, biting my lip roughly as my orgasm shudders through me, pleasure exploding through my core. My legs tremble underneath me as I ride it out, my hand planted on the glass wall beside me for support.

Panting slightly, I remove my hands from between my legs and off the glass, feeling a new sense of relaxation and slight guilt as I step back under the water.

I really should stop imagining him. Wanting him. It's just so damn hard not to, especially when it makes me feel so damn good. After all this time, I don't think I will ever be able to stop. I tried before- I tried fully to stop thinking about him and focus on Spencer, but it was still only thoughts of Rick that me orgasm.

Only him.

Shaking my head at myself, I wash off my conditioner and complete a final full-body rinse. I'm pathetic. Once I am satisfied with my level of cleanliness, feeling like I've lost a pound of dead skin, hair, and dirt, I shut off the water.

Stepping out of the shower, dripping onto the floor, I dry myself off with a fluffy white towel hung on a rack beside me. I tsk with annoyance as the fabric reveals little red spots where I nicked the skin on my legs.

Damnit. Every time.

I towel dry and then wrap the fluffy rectangle around my body, padding across the humid room to get to the vanity, where there is a little box of toiletries ready for me to rifle through.

While I wait for the steam to dissipate, I brush my teeth about five times, apply a thick layer of deodorant, and put on some non-scented lotion on my legs and arms so they don't dry out. When I stand back up and glance at the mirror, finally free of the condensation, I jump out of my skin at the woman in the reflection.

Because she looks like me. She has the same bone structure, the same murky green eyes, the same flushed cheeks, nose, face shape, and mouth. But her hair is now a light copper color, her skin deeply tanned, and body more toned than I have ever seen it.

Gulping with slight dread, I drop the towel to the ground to reveal my body completely. My stomach twists seeing the weight I've lost and the amount of muscle I've developed. The muscle is slightly nice, seeing how my hard work has paid off. How it made it possible for me to fight back, to save my family.

The weight loss is what makes me sick to my stomach. I would have loved this before the turn. Loved that I now have slight abs, noticeable toned arms, and my stomach is now nearly flat.

But I know how I got here.

The endless days of living off scraps to survive. Remembering the painful cramps I felt every night as I ensured the kids had enough to eat first. Being so desperate for a meal I devoured a plate of wild dog meat before almost throwing up because my shrunken stomach wasn't prepared for that much food after nothing.

I almost wasted away. That doesn't make me happy to see the end result. Far from it.

Sighing heavily and closing my eyes, I try to reel back the intense emotions surging through me. Because if it hadn't been for this place, we would all probably have starved to death. It was becoming inevitable.

But we didn't.

And now, we are in beautiful homes with unlimited access to water, food, electricity, walls we can be safe behind, and a community that might just be okay.

Shaking myself out of my deep thoughts, I remember that Rick is probably still waiting to shower himself.

Finishing up in the bathroom, I wander into the master, towel still wrapped around me, noticing an organized heap of fresh clothes sitting on the dresser. I scour through the female pile, finding the few items that are my size. After changing into fresh underwear, I pull on a pair of dark jeans that fit snugly across my now built-up legs but flare out slightly around my feet.

Then, I select a light blue tank top from the small collection of shirts they gave us, smiling slightly to myself because the color reminds me of the soothing blue of Rick's eyes.

Jesus Christ. I sound like a damn schoolgirl fawning over her crush. I'm honestly surprised that I haven't engraved C+R into a tree yet. This is what that man does to me. It's ridiculous.

After dressing, I evaluate my reflection in the bathroom mirror one last time, finding myself smiling at the woman in the reflection this time. It seems ridiculous after everything I've been through that simply wearing new clothes makes this much of a difference to me.

But after wearing ratty, dirty, and stained clothes for months, having a clean and pretty top is refreshing. Not only do I feel like a person again, I now feel like a woman too.

Gathering up my old and gross clothes, I drop them in a laundry basket they had placed out in the hallway closet and turn to descend the stairs, still using the same towel to continue to scrunch and dry my hair.

As my feet hit the hardwood of the first floor, I look up, searching the open layout until I spot Rick. He's alone in the living room, Judith perched on his lap as he smiles gently at her, murmuring incoherently under his breath.

I near them, not hiding my wide grin, my heart warming seeing once again how good of a dad he is. Hearing my footsteps, Rick glances up, his smile falling as he takes me in.

My own smile falters, suddenly embarrassed as his eyes widen slightly, his eyebrows lifting. He's probably forgotten that under all that dirt, grime, and nasty clothes, I am actually not too bad to look at underneath.

"You've got to try that shower, it's amazing," I breathe softly, aching to shift the attention from me to the shower, my skin feeling like it's on fire.

As if shaken awake, Rick's expression flickers and he shakes his head slightly before clearing his throat. "R-right, yeah." He mutters, getting up from the couch.

I stride forward to take Judith from his grasp, smiling as I notice she's cleaner than before. Rick must have given her a bath in the sink.

Rick makes brief eye contact as he passes the baby girl into my arms, making my skin grow warmer, suddenly concerned that he can see right through me. That he knows exactly what I thought about, exactly what I did, in that shower.

Clearing my throat, I look down at Judith to distract myself, my stomach twisting nervously.

"Is there hot water?" Rick asks, drawing my attention from the beautiful baby back to her father.

"Yes. And it feels amazing. Sorry I took so long but a hot shower after all this time, Jesus - it was orgasmic," I tell him honestly, my voice dipping slightly, eager to showcase how amazing it was.

Rick's expression twitches with an unreadable look and he nods, averting his gaze. "G-good, I'll uh- be right back then," He mutters, his tone short and tense, making my brow furrow slightly in confusion.

"Okay, enjoy!" I call out, turning to watch him leave, not being able to help admiring his strong figure as he strides away from me.

"Mama, Dada," Judith babbles, making me look down at her with a grin.

"Yeah, Dad went to go take a shower. We were pretty stinky huh?" I ask her gently, bouncing her as she giggles delightfully.

As Rick showers, I explore the bottom floor with Judith in my arms, examining all the catalog furniture, upgraded appliances, and excessive storage. I still can't get over how strange this all is.

I spent some time in the kitchen admiring the view of the street and park through the large window, indulging in a bit of people-watching. After, I begin to make my way to a different room that caught my attention earlier, which seemed to be some sort of study.

I want to find out if the bookshelves are filled with real books or those fake ones they always put in model homes. If there are actual books for me to read, this may be the perfect place.

Not paying attention to where I'm walking, or the fact that the shower has long ceased upstairs, I blindly turn the corner and bump right into a warm, solid, mass. I stumble back in surprise, immediately relaxing when I feel two familiar hands on my shoulders steadying me, knowing instantly it's Rick.

Why is he always doing that? Am I really that clumsy?

Looking up at him, my mouth parts to apologize, but I freeze, my words dying in my throat and my heart fluttering at the sight of him.

As Rick stands before me, freshly showered and without a beard, I abruptly notice that he is not wearing a shirt either, making my heart lurch. His hands drop from my shoulders, suddenly making my skin feel empty. Gulping once, I blink dumbly at him for a second, not being able to comprehend the transformed man in front of me. Not to mention his exposed, fit body right there.

I quickly avert my gaze from his tanned and muscular torso and instead focus on his face, warmth seeping into my cheeks. Rick's long, wet, curls frame his freshly shaven face, making my heart ache with that same yearning just seeing him. He's had a beard so long, I almost forgot what he looked like underneath.

Almost forgot his strong jaw, kissable mouth, and slight dimples. I finally see after far too long how the corner of his mouth twitches with a smile, without a beard blocking my view.

A delighted grin steadily pulls across my face, my stomach erupting in wild butterflies at his lowered eyes gazing unflinchingly into mine.

"Wow," Is all I can manage through my shit-eating grin, making Rick look away, fighting his own smile, rolling his tongue on the inside of his cheek. "You shaved!" I enthuse, my eyebrows raised, fighting the sudden urge to reach out and touch his now beard-free skin.

"I did," Rick responds simply, those damn eyes looking right back at me, the sun streaming through the window nearby igniting the blue of his irises.

"-And missed a spot," I point out, nodding to a patch on his right cheek, where he still has a smudge of shaving cream. He furrows his eyebrows, reaching up to touch it.

"Here. I'll help," I decide, making him crease his brows in confusion as I grab his forearm, leading him into the kitchen. I guide him onto one of the barstools by the island and he sits down wordlessly.

I place Judith on his lap and he immediately supports her, smiling down at his daughter while I busy myself in the spare bathroom. I finally find a straight razor, pausing when I hear Judith crying.

With the razor in one hand and a towel in another, I come back into the kitchen with worry to see Judith crying on Rick's lap.

"What's wrong?" I ask with concern, knowing she's been fed and changed while Rick was in the shower.

"I don't think she recognizes me," Rick comments, slight amusement tinted in his voice. As I approach them, I remember that I've seen this same thing happen many times before. Babies getting used to their dads with beards and not recognizing them when they're clean-shaven.

"Aw honey, it's okay, he's still your dad," I assure Judith softly, bending down to try to see her face and comfort her, ignoring the fluttery sensation of being in such close proximity with her father. I flinch in concern as Rick suddenly jerks back, causing me to turn to him with a questioning look.

"Your hair." Rick says with a gulp, and I look down, realizing the long dry waves had probably been tickling his skin, making me crack a smile of apology as I step back.

A mirroring smile quirks at Rick's mouth as he looks back at me, the expression on his face making my butterflies flutter more intensely. The way he's looking up at me, part of his eyes shaded is making me feel... things.

"Dada!" Judith babbles excitedly, making me turn to her with a wide smile, happy she finally recognizes him.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Rick murmurs to her lowly, his voice filled with fondness, making me smile as I back up to grab the straight razor, trying to settle the fluttering nerves in my chest.

Once Rick is ready, I wet his skin before grabbing his face gently, my forefinger and thumb pressing up against either side of his sharp jaw, maneuvering it gently so I can access the unshaven bit. I suppress the strong emotions of attraction and desire swirling in my chest being this close to him, touching him this intimately, feeling his warm skin under the thin pads of my fingers.

Clearing my throat, I carefully slide the blade across his skin, steadily shaving off the leftover patch of beard. While I can't see Rick's expression from where I'm positioned, I notice his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps.

[ A/N: imagine making RICK nervous- ]

"Don't worry, I won't cut you," I murmur lowly, a slight smirk pulling at my lips, my skin tingling being so close to him. He simply grunts in acknowledgment, sending a wave of amusement through me.

"You should have more faith in my blade-wielding ability, Rick. I am a surgeon if you remember." I say, my voice low, my smirk only growing as I tease him. "Steady hands" I add simply near his ear, my cheeks burning red hot as I suddenly realize the flirtiness laced in my voice.

Rick just hums sarcastically in response, making me shake my head, my smirk so prominent now it's beginning to hurt.

After finishing removing the hair from his cheek, I lean back to check his face for any more. Still holding him by the jaw, I inspect his features carefully, maybe being a bit more thorough than I need to be. Just so I can have one excuse to really look at him.

Rick stares back at me unflinchingly as I examine his features. My heartbeat is steadily increasing as my eyes scan his perfect face. He looks so similar to when I first met him, with that same handsome bone structure and striking eyes, just slightly older now. He's become more distinguished and toughened from the world since then. The faded scars and slight wrinkles across his forehead are clear indications. I noticed the same in myself.

My gaze slowly drops down from his hairline to his captivating eyes that are still fixed on me. My gaze continues over his strong nose, chiseled bone structure, and finally lands on his lips...

That old, familiar, and strong urge to press my mouth to his screams at me, making my nerves tingle with a sudden craving to find out exactly how it feels.

I could be imagining it, but it seems like Rick is leaning forward, his eyes trained on my mouth as well.

Time slows and it suddenly becomes difficult to take a breath as our faces steadily inch closer.

And closer...

Air doesn't seem to exist anymore. My lungs don't need oxygen to function now, all that matters, all that I seem to be able to think about, is this moment. On the mind-blowing possibility that I may be about to kiss Rick Grimes.

A sudden and seemingly deafening knock startles both of us, making me drop the razor in surprise. Luckily, it just clatters on the tile, narrowly avoiding Judith. Both of our heads swing to the kitchen side door, where through the glass, a pretty blonde lady is standing, holding a large box of items with a friendly smile.

My heartbeat is racing aggressively, jolting against the vein in my neck. I can't tell if it's a lingering effect from the startling knock or the moment it interrupted. Turning to Rick with surprise, my eyes find his face, hardened with suspicion.

At the sight of a bright red spot of blood on his cheek, I furrow my brows, realizing that I must have nicked his skin when I jumped at the knock. Rick clenches his jaw and hands me Judith before getting up and pulling the door open, his shirtless figure tensed. Good Lord, he has the best back muscles I think I've ever seen.

Possessiveness sparks through me as I watch the woman's eyes drop down to Rick's bare chest before darting back up to his face as she plasters on a friendly smile. My grip tightens slightly on Judith, seeing how beautiful this stranger is and hating the way she's smiling up at Rick. I can see it in her eyes- that she has the exact feeling I felt when I first saw him.

"Hey, I'm Jessie. I work in the pantry and was sent to give you guys some supplies," She breathes good-naturedly, handing Rick the large box of items, which he takes gingerly, glancing back at me with a look of skepticism.

"Oh- looks like you're bleeding there," Jessie says, pointing to where I just cut him. Yeah, no thanks to you. I think bitterly, clenching my jaw with frustration.

"I used to be a stylist, among twelve other things, I could give you a haircut? You too, if you want," Jessie offers, her eyes darting to mine.

I exchange a look with Rick. Despite my new distaste for this stranger based fully on my frivolous jealousy, it couldn't hurt.

Right?

- Rick's POV -

The stranger, Jessie, begins with my haircut first. As she snips at my hair, Cass begins to unpack the box of goods in the kitchen, Judith perched on her hip.

My traitorous eyes observe closely as she bends her body over the counter, trying to see into a deep corner cabinet, making that familiar desire build slightly in me.

I don't know how she does it.

How she constantly keeps me obsessed with her in every damn way. How nearly everything she does, like simply touching my jaw as she helps me shave, makes me crave her desperately.

Forcing my eyes away from Cass in her new form-fitting clothes and focusing on the floor tile instead, I try to contain myself.

Clearly, my mind has been consumed with her too much today. From having Deanna mention her offhandedly as my wife too quick to correct, to enduring her practically moaning about how 'orgasmic' the shower was for her. Then because of that, picturing her far too vividly when it was my turn to shower...

I exhale sharply, closing my eyes. I need to get my shit together.

I was getting good at reeling back my feelings for her, being so consumed with keeping us alive. While the night at the hospital was pure agony, in the weeks following, I was too concerned about making sure she and the rest of my family were alive. But being here, with no outlet for this tension, is... difficult to say the least.

It's like the prison all over again, trying to focus on important tasks all the while she's constantly there, in the back of my mind, consuming me.

I'm trying to stay normal. I'm trying to keep that boundary up, but it's like at every turn she's there, being incredibly magnetic, constantly drawing me closer to her.

Those expressive and gorgeous eyes of hers, her breathtaking smile and perfect lilted laugh, and her irresistible body- are killing me.

And it's not just her stunning appearance. It's how warm she is, how kind, all the while being brillaint. It's the way she loves and cares for our family relentlessly. How she's killed for them, just as I have. And I know damn well she would do it again in a heartbeat.

She's just... incredible. I find myself in awe most of the time I spend in her presence.

"I have two boys, Ron and Sam," Jessie informs me from behind my head, suddenly reminding me that she's there. I had forgotten- far too lost in thoughts of Cass. No surprise there.

"Ron's around your son's age. I could introduce them if that's okay with his parents?" Jessie asks, her suggestive words making my stomach lurch as I stiffen in the chair.

She thinks-

Cass glances over with curiosity, her green eyes widening after a beat once she digests Jessie's words.

"Oh! I'm not-" Her eyes dart to mine and my stomach flips.

"I'm not Carl's mom. He's- um Rick's son," Cass explains simply, looking down and absentmindedly adjusting Judith's overalls, her cheeks slightly flushed.

My heart aches. You could be. If only you wanted to.

"I'm sorry- I just assumed," Jessie stutters nervously from behind me, her voice taught with embarrassment.

"Don't apologize, it's fine." Cass breathes with a reassuring and kind smile, still not meeting my gaze, shifting uneasily on her feet.

My chest pangs seeing how uncomfortable Cass is at the prospect of being with me. If only she knew how well I would treat her. Unlike her previous relationships, I would give her the love she deserves.

But, none of that matters. She doesn't feel the same.

"Ma-ma," Judith babbles softly, making Cass look down at our daughter with that beautiful fond smile of hers. It seems to be a smile only reserved for Judith.

"I know, Jude," Cass murmurs softly, placing a kiss on Judith's head. My chest warms with adoration at the sight. I'm endlessly grateful Cass took on this role for Judith. After Lori, I didn't think she would have someone to call Mama.

"Oof. Diaper duty calls, I'll be right back," Cass tells me and Jessie with an effortlessly beautiful smile, finally glancing in my direction, those green eyes meeting mine.

"I can do it-" I offer, but she shakes her head, stopping me as I almost get up.

"Finish your... haircut," Cass breathes, something behind her eyes as she looks at me. It's just as weird hearing her say it. That we're now in a place where we get haircuts. It seems so ridiculous after being out there. Surviving by the day.

With a final smile, Cass disappears around the corner, her muffled voice still talking to Judith as she goes.

"I hope I'm not intruding but- she isn't Carl's mom but is Judith's?" Jessie asks from behind me, still gathering and snipping my hair.

I honestly don't know how to respond to that. In pre-turn and conventional ways, Cass is not Judith's mother. But since birth, she has been the sole person consistently watching out for her. She survived with her alone after the prison- for a whole month. She killed to protect her time and time again. She in all terms but biological, is Judith's mother.

But that's not what Jessie is asking.

"It's complicated. But yes. She's Judith's mom." I say, clearing my throat.

"By marriage?" Jessie quips, pausing her snipping.

My heart lurches at the idea. If only.

"No. Cass and I aren't together." I mutter, staring blankly at the cabinets in front of me, my stomach twisting. Why is everyone assuming we're together? It makes it hurt that much more when I have to tell them we're not.

It reminds me each time that she's far from being mine.

"Okay! You're all set." Jessie says from behind me, placing her hand on my shoulder, shaking me out of my daze.

She holds out a handheld mirror for me to look at my haircut. It is strange, to see myself again, first without the beard and now with shorter hair. As I shift my head to glance to the side, I notice my head feels lighter after being freed from the extra weight.

"Thank you." I tell Jessie with a nod before I stand up and turn around, facing the new neighbor. She sends me a warm close-lipped smile in return.

She seems nice.

If we do in fact stay, she'll be a member of our new community. If this place really is as good as it seems.

It is difficult to picture this good-looking woman secretly harboring a plot to murder my family. She seems harmless.

Just then Cass walks back in, pausing at the doorframe, making me look over at her to see her expression slightly hardened. Her intelligent gaze darts between me and Jessie, her eyebrows knitted together.

"Are you ready for your haircut?" Jessie asks in a friendly tone, making Cass's expression flicker and then soften as she nods with a somewhat forced smile.

I walk forward to take Judith from Cass's arms, making the baby protest in her little voice. Cass chuckles at this, the incredible sound reverberating through my body. God, I love her laugh.

"I think she needs a nap," Cass informs me knowingly and I nod, glancing at the stairs, knowing there's a crib up there we can use. Judith babbles angrily in my arms, clearly not too fond of the idea.

"On it," I assure Cass making her nod with amusement before she sits down on the same barstool, adjusting on the leather as Jessie washes the scissors.

She'll be okay. I remind myself as I turn and leave, hearing Jessie begin to ask Cass what she wants for her haircut.

- Cass's POV - 
that night

Letting out a steady breath, I stare up at the white-paneled ceiling, listening to my family's even breathing as they sleep. Abraham snores loudly, making a smile of amusement quirk at my lips. The usual.

They're all exhausted after our first day. We had a discussion tonight before bed, making sure we're all still on the same page. Michonne made a point to remind us that she and Maggie could be right considering nothing bad has happened.

Yet.

Apart from my lingering distrust, I genuinely hope they're right.

Despite the fact that I should be exhausted, I don't feel remotely tired. My mind is racing too fast. So I gingerly get to my feet, careful not to nudge Carl sleeping soundly beside me, drool dribbling from his mouth.

Once standing, I look around the room, making sure my family is all here, smiling in relief when I count them all. Sophia curled up on the checkered armchair in the corner, Rick on the other side of Carl, and Judith asleep in her traveling crib, visible through the black mesh. Daryl sleeping soundly beside the crib, making me smile fondly.

Carefully, I turn and step over the sleeping bodies. I tiptoe across the hardwood floors and gingerly open the front door, closing it as silently as I can behind me. My footsteps pad across the painted porch floor as I breathe in the refreshing night air, letting the cool oxygen fill my lungs and calm my nerves.

I rest my forearms against the white banister railing and lean against it, looking out at the sleepy neighborhood, allowing the peaceful surroundings to relax me.

Glancing at the scratched gold watch with a worn leather band I was given today, I notice it's 1:16 am. Makes sense that everyone else is asleep by now.

Closing my eyes, I lean my head back slightly, enjoying the slight breeze. It's nice to have a moment to just think.

Opening my eyes once again, I look up at the starry sky and the nearly full moon shining down on us. It should be full in a couple of days. Working in the hospital, the idea would fill me with dread. Full-moon nights were the worst. When we were on the road, it would give me relief knowing the night would be brighter, therefore easier to see if a threat was coming.

Now, it's just a full moon.

My eyes scan the community in front of me, searching for any danger. For any sign that they are going to hurt us.

And I see nothing.

Just houses with the lights turned off.

"Are you okay?" A gentle voice suddenly asks right behind me, making me jump, my heartbeat lurching as I gasp, my hand flying to my chest.

I turn to Rick, who looks at me with widened eyes.

"You scared me!" I whisper with wide eyes, taking a deep breath as my heartbeat returns to normal.

A slight grin cracks at the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry," He whispers, not looking all that sorry as he steps right beside me, leaning against the banister himself.

"Can't sleep?" I ask him softly, turning to examine his face, enjoying re-memorizing his features in the soft moonlight. Even though it's been an hour or two since I first saw his freshly shaven face, I'm still not adjusted to it.

His sharp profile turns to face me, nodding to my question as his eyes rake over my face. Rick's lack of sleep is nothing new. It was the same thing on the road. Before and after the Prison. Maybe during as well, but I never saw it then.

"Me too," I murmur, my chest tightening as I continue to look at him. As soon as I realize I'm gazing at him with longing, I clear my throat and swiftly turn away, causing my freshly cut hair to brush against my exposed shoulders.

Get a damn grip, Cass. Come on now.

"Your hair looks nice- I didn't get a chance to tell you before," Rick murmurs lowly, making my heart lurch at the compliment. I turn to look at him but he doesn't do the same, still facing out at the community in front of us.

He notices stuff like that? Smiling slightly to myself, I face forward, just as he is.

"Thank you. I hadn't realized how long it had gotten until after my shower. And I'm so tan!" I enthuse with slight amazement, making Rick turn to me with an amused smile.

"Yeah, I barely recognized myself, before and after shaving." He mutters, his hand grazing his jaw. Longing pulls at my chest and I look down. Either way, he's always going to look completely and utterly attractive to me.

With the beard, he is intimidatingly hot and rugged. When he was angry, he looked terrifying. Without it, he's softened a bit. And he's now showing off those strong and attractive features of his that I first fell for years ago.

While I like both, stubble has to be my favorite.

"It's strange. Being this tan- I'm not used to it." I admit sheepishly, trying to divert my thoughts away from Rick and his damn facial hair.

Rick tilts his head as he watches me, silently waiting me to explain.

"I loved my job." I start simply, smiling wistfully, looking down at the painted banister, seeming bright white in comparison to my tan fingers curled around it.

"Because I loved it so much, I was there most of the time- only leaving here and there to sleep and shower at my apartment before going right back. So I was extremely pale," I explain with a nostalgic smile, stealing a quick glance at Rick, who continues to watch me patiently.

"Soph would tease me relentlessly about it." I inform him with a subtle grin. "She was the friend who never lets you get away with anything." I remember fondly.

"She was your best friend, right? Michonne's girlfriend?" Rick clarifies curiously and I nod.

"Yeah. God, I miss her." I mumble, fighting the sudden tightness in the back of my throat thinking about her, averting my gaze. Looking back, I would not have thought out of the two of us that I would be the one to survive this thing. Sophie was badass and cutthroat in more ways than one. She would have been a walker-killing machine.

"Can I ask what happened?" Rick asks softly, making me look at him, jolted out of my thoughts of her.

"It was the day it all fell apart. It was normal at first, until everything just descended into chaos. Out of nowhere, these soldiers came storming in, shooting all the patients. My patients- the children." I reveal, my voice lowering with disgust, my gut twisting painfully remembering the deafening screams and gunshots. Remembering the absolute horror of watching my innocent young patients, who had no way of being infected, get gunned down brutally.

"They began turning on the staff as well, but luckily Soph had come and got me before that and we escaped through the emergency stairwells. When we got to the bottom floor, we paused at one point to catch our breath and figure out a game plan." I explain, taking a deep breath, feeling slightly nervous having not told anyone this story before.

"Sophie was to the left of me, nearest to the wall, and out of nowhere, a walker just lurched out of a bodybag labeled 'Cadaver'. It must have been going to the lab to be processed- I don't know. But it bit her, right under her ribs." I explain gingerly, my voice hoarse, glancing over at Rick for the first time since I started to see him watching me, his gaze soft.

"And- with that kind of bite? There's nothing-" I stop, letting out a breath to stop myself from bursting out into tears. "So, I put her down. It must have been an earlier strain or something because it went through her fast. Within a minute she had the fever."

"Do you remember right before we left the hospital, when I froze in that hallway?" I ask, and Rick nods, his brows crinkled in the middle.

"I had wondered what was going on," he murmurs, his gaze searching mine.

"Well, I froze because I saw Soph's body. In the pile of walker corpses. Because she was there right after I put her down, those walkers got to her first. And that gave me the chance to escape. It's the reason I'm here today." I tell Rick as I pick at the peeling paint of the banister, making his face crinkle deeper with emotion before he reaches out to grab my restless hand.

I smile slightly at the kind gesture, his warmth grounding me.

"I'm sorry." He tells me sincerely, his gaze searching mine, his voice low and tender. Nodding, I blink away the tears, using my hand not clasped in his to wipe my eyes.

"Thank you," I tell him, sniffing. "You know better than anyone else how hard it is. To kill your best friend. Even if it wasn't them anymore." I sniffle and Rick nods understandingly, looking down for a moment.

Then I smile fondly.

"Sophie would've liked you." I inform him through my wet smile, making surprise flicker across his expression.

"Really?" he asks, raising his eyebrows, and I nod, smiling warmly. She would. I know that for sure.

"Oh, definitely." I assure him, making him grin back at me.

"Did she like Phillip?" Rick asks me, making me bark out a laugh before clamping my hand over my mouth as Rick widens his eyes at me. I glance at the dark windows of the house, hoping no one woke up.

"Sorry," I whisper, fighting a smile at the ridiculous notion of Soph liking Phillip. "No, she hated him, even in the beginning- before he hurt me. She told me I deserved someone better." I say with a shrug, remembering the exact conversation when she told me that.

"She was right." Rick assures me without a moment of hesitation, making me look at him, my chest warming with adoration.

"I wish you could have met-" I stop myself, thinking. Emotion flickers through me and I suddenly have to fight against the lump in my throat and the goosebumps rising on my arms.

"Sophie did meet you, actually." I correct myself, smiling fondly as I picture the memory of her standing in front of his patient room the first time I saw him.

"You were her coma patient, after your gunshot," I tell Rick, my eyes welling with tears. His expression softens. "She actually didn't like you, at least in that moment, because your case wasn't surgical," I reveal fondly with a smirk, making Rick grin.

He nods. "I see," he says lowly with clear amusmment, making my smirk grow.

I duck my head, warmth spreading in my chest knowing that my best friend did in fact meet the most important man in my life. Even if she didn't know it.

"So that's where you recognized me- back at the farm." Rick confirms and I nod, wiping my eyes.

"It's strange thinking that we crossed paths briefly, having no idea what we would mean to each other two years later," I say to Rick thoughtfully. I found myself being drawn to him then, but I would have never thought this could have happened. Never thought he would become family. That I would take on his newborn daughter as my own.

"None of us could have known what we would mean to one another. What would happen to us. And now we're here. Back in the old world." Rick breathes, looking out onto the community again, a thoughtful expression on his face.

I nod, knowing exactly what he means. It's so strange, suddenly being immersed in a place where they live like it's before.

"Do you think Michonne and Maggie are right?" I ask softly, staring blankly at the trees across the street.

"Despite my reluctance, I'm beginning to think they just might be." He responds gingerly as if he's too nervous to accept the possibility of something so incredible.

"Me too." I breathe, feeling the exact same thing.