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We Can Change

Dangerous

Author's Note: This chapter is officially the largest chapter of anything I've ever written, at over 15k words/30 pages in Word document. Like, holy shit? Hah, there was just so much to tell and no good place to end it except where I finally did, and even then it was actually supposed to be longer in my head. I just really liked this chapter a lot, and I hope all of you do too! As always, please R&R!
- Holly, xoxo


“The danger is I'm dangerous
And I might just tear you apart”
— Gin Wigmore

“I was stabbed.”

Rick shifted around in bed, lying on his stomach with an arm draped across Jo’s chest and his face buried in his pillow. Hearing her voice in his ear, he lifted his head and cast a glance at her with sleep in his eyes as he knitted his brow at her.

“What?” he questioned.

“During that storm at the farmhouse, I was talking to Daryl about all the shit I’d physically been through up until now and how—somehow— I haven’t miscarried. I don’t know how it is I overlooked it, but I was stabbed, by Clara, in the woods.” Jo turned was lying on her back; her left hand resting upon Rick’s arm and the fingers of her right hand grazing along the scar on her left shoulder. “I don’t know how it is that I could forget something like that.”

“Momnesia,” Rick mumbled. “Pregnancy brain.”

Jo chuckled. “I never had to really deal with ‘momnesia’ when I was pregnant with Hope. There wasn’t much to forget about when all I did all hours of the day for the bulk of the pregnancy was lie or sit around in the dark. I slept a lot, daydreamed, too.”

Pushing himself up to lie on his side with left hand propping up his head, Rick studied her face and how she seemed to disappear into her memories for a moment or two. She didn’t seem too terrified or upset by them as much anymore; just more…detached. It was like a past life she was privy to the memories of; as if it hadn’t actually happened to her, but a former version of herself which, in a way, was more or less true.

Shifting around again, Rick hovered diagonally over Jo’s body and lowered his lips upon her scar, which mirrored the scar he had in the same place from Morgan. Although, his was much more faded now as compared to hers since she had received that particular wound only a month or so ago.

Changing the subject, he lifted his head up and kissed her jaw and then her lips. “How come you’re already up?” he questioned, leaning back from her face to get a better look at her. “The whole point in resting here until at least tomorrow morning was so we could catch up on rest and sleep in. You, especially, should be taking advantage of it. You and Karen I expect to take it as easy as possible while we have this opportunity.”

Jo shrugged. “I dunno. I just woke up. Couldn’t sleep anymore.” Turning to look at him she offered a small smile. “Not tired.”

“Yeah, well, I think I’m hungover.” Pushing away from her and dropping back onto the mattress, Rick stared up at the ceiling and ran and hand down his face. “We shared that bottle of bourbon whiskey at that house after the prison, and that hangover was okay, but I’m pretty sure I drank an entire bottle of wine by myself last night.”

“You did,” Jo confirmed with a giggle. “But it was nice to see you relax and just…let your hair down, so to speak. You needed this just as much as the rest of us.”

“I hope we didn’t make too much noise downstairs last night, with the music and everything,” Rick remarked, as a groan followed due to the ache in his head. “Last thing we need is a herd of walkers or any unfriendly types descending on us because we slipped up.”

“The music wasn’t that loud.”

“I remember being able to hear it from in here.”

“But it was muffled; like, really muffled. And it’s not like the music was pumping from some expensive stereo equipment with an obnoxious bass. It was a dinky, little CD player,” Jo assured. “Plus, Daryl went out to take watch. I’m sure that if he thought the music was too loud and would draw anything unwanted toward this house he would’ve come back in and told us to shut it off or turn it down.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am. I’m the wife,” she teased. “That’s how it works, isn’t it?”

Grabbing one of the decorative pillows that was somehow still on the bed and hadn’t been knocked off during their sexcapades the night before, Rick smacked Jo gently in the face with it. With a sputtering sound escaping her lips, she pushed the pillow away and practically launched herself at him. Settling upon his hips, Jo grabbed hold of his wrists and pinned his hands up over his head, just as he had done to her the night before. Purposely, she gave a swivel of her own hips and he instinctively inhaled sharply from the friction she caused between their bodies. Looking down at him with a victorious grin, Jo lowered her chest upon his and brought her lips to his ear.

“Best be careful, Mr. Grimes,” she whispered, and then gently pulled at his earlobe with her teeth. “I bite.”

“Is that a promise?”



After another hour of further intimacy and just general laziness, Rick and Jo decided it was time to get out of bed and greet the day and the others. Taking their time to redress, they smiled and smirked at each other while letting their minds start to wrap around the tasks they planned on undertaking for the day. Walking up to Rick with his gun belt, Jo stood there in front of him while waiting for him to pull his regular belt through the loops of his black jeans. When he was finished, he glimpsed her patient stance and raised an eyebrow at her; prepared to take his gun belt from her but took pause when she reached her arms around his waist and pulled it on for him. Rick just stood there, watching her and smiling down at her; his lip so close to her forehead. As soon as the gun belt was fastened and in place, Rick lowered his face and brushed the tip of his nose against the tip of hers and then kissed her properly.

Shortly thereafter, the couple made their way downstairs and found almost everyone already convened in either the living room or the kitchen. Breakfast consisted of leftover venison and blackberries, as well as little to no conversation. Too many heads were throbbing from hangovers.

Karen and Jo, sitting directly across the kitchen table from each other could only snicker at those miserable faces around them; not used to drinking alcohol to that extent these days, thus becoming considerable lightweights where handling their liquor was concerned.

After having something to eat and drinking plenty of water, as well as popping a few pills for their wine-induced headaches, the group came more together to discuss the plans for the day, which consisted of scavenging the other homes in the virtually new neighborhood. It was also decided that everyone would go on these runs except Jen, who wasn’t making any great improvement, and the three girls: Sophia, Mika and Piper. Those heading out would split up into small groups to cover more ground and Rick jumped to the assumption that Jo would come with him. However, she ended up suggesting she’d tag along with her brother and Tara instead, which Rick subtly frowned at.

Granted, he understood it was her brother and that was a different bond unto itself he couldn’t get between, so there wasn’t anything to be jealous over. Rick just wasn’t keen on being apart from her, even if it was only for a couple hours. Sometimes fifteen minutes away from her felt like an eternity.

The groupings were settled on in no time at all, though. Jo would be going off together with her brother and Tara, Nicole was joining Tyreese and Karen, Merle was tagging along with Morgan and Michonne, while Milo had invited himself to join Rick and Daryl.

Before leaving the yellow house, the four groups had gathered up their backpacks and emptied out anything that was no longer deemed a necessity to make room for anything of better use that they might find.

Kissing Sophia and Mika on the head, both Rick and Jo were the last to exit the house and make their way down the steps. Jo was going without either of her crutches; insisting her ankle was feeling considerably better, and Milo teasingly commenting about how Rick must’ve really help her “elevate it” the night before garnered him a swift smack to the back of the head by Finn.

Shaking his own head with a roll of his eyes, Rick turned and looked at his wife with nothing but love. Reaching a hand out, he rested it down upon her waist and closed the gap between their bodies as he gave her a soft kiss.

“Be careful,” he advised, primarily to her. “If something goes wrong, holler. These houses around here aren’t too far apart. The sound will carry and I’ll hear you.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Jo insisted, stealing one last kiss. “But I promise we’ll holler, just in case.”

“You better.” Rick narrowed his eyes at her and then lowered his voice as two of the other groups already began walking away. “You come back to me.”

Jo leaned her face a tad closer to his. “I always do,” she replied with a wink.

Letting her hand linger on his forearm for a few seconds, she then let it slip as she turned from him and walked over to join her brother and Tara with the faintest limp in her step, which was somewhat comforting to Rick. He was glad she was on the mend. Watching her head down one of the road that branched off from the road the yellow house sat on, Rick forced his gaze away to look back at their temporary abode before forcing himself onward with Daryl and Milo.



“Watch out for that—”

Before Daryl could finish his sentence, Milo tripped over a long-forgotten lawn sprinkler in the grass of one of the homes they’d all passed the day before just before turning onto the yellow house’s street.

“The fuck,” Milo grumbled.

“I told you to watch out.”

“You didn’t say what to watch out for or give me enough warning.”

“Not my fault you ain’t paying attention to what’s directly in front of ya. I ain’t your mother.”

Rick rolled his eyes as he lifted his Colt up while walking up to the front porch. Daryl followed quickly behind, his crossbow at the ready, while Rick tried for the knob on the white home’s bright red door. Lagging behind, Milo took particular care to look out for anything else that might get in the way of his feet. Eyeing each other on the silent count of three, Rick turned the knob and pushed the door open; thankful it was unlocked.

Then again, most homes nowadays seemed to be left unlocked.

Most people that lived in the homes didn’t bother with locking them up when they fled. Or if they’d been scavenged by anyone else previously, homes were never relocked afterward. It wasn’t something that mattered anymore.

After securing the first floor, Rick turned toward both Daryl and Milo with a nod. “Food, water, medical supplies, toiletries and clean clothes are the necessities we’re after.”

“If I find an iPod, I’m keeping that shit,” Milo remarked, holstering his gun.

Rick took note of that gesture and pointed at the younger man with his own gun. “Don’t put that away. There could still be lurkers in here.”

Milo made a face. “Pfft, we made enough noise trudging around down here. If there was anyone or anything else, they’d have popped their ugly head out by now.”

The bearded blonde’s comment reminded Rick of what Jo had said to him when they’d taken up shelter in that house after the prison. He thought back to how angry they had been after their recent losses and how Jo had responded with anger; pounding on the walls and shouting for anyone or anything that might be in that house to come on out and show itself. “Something could be locked in a room upstairs,” he warned, regardless.

“Well, when I decide to open a door up there, I’ll remove my gun first,” Milo retorted, stepping back into one of the downstairs rooms they’d already inspected and secured.

Casting a glance over at Daryl, Rick sighed heavily but quietly while shaking his head.

“Is it just me or is he getting really annoying?” Daryl questioned in a low voice as he stepped around Rick and ducked into kitchen.

Watching his friend start to open a few of the cupboards, Rick shrugged. “I think I liked him better last night when I was drunk.”

“You liked a lot of things better last night when you were drunk,” the archer threw back with a smirk when he eyed Rick. “The acoustics in that master bedroom, for example.”

Rick immediately grimaced, understanding at once what Daryl was alluding to. “You could hear us? Even from downstairs with the music playing?”

Daryl smacked his lips and emitted a slight chuckle. “The bedroom window was open. I was walking the perimeter and happened to be passing by right underneath at the same moment you saw God.”

“Fuck me,” Rick grumbled somewhat in embarrassment.

“S’alright. Ain’t like it’s the first time I ever heard the two of you going at it,” Daryl added, pulling down two cans of what looked to be tomato soup. “Ya’ll were always as quiet as you thought you were back at the prison in that little cell of yours. Could hear that damned mattress squeaking every time.”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Slipping past the other man, Rick hung his head and began pulling open drawers. “So we aren’t as subtle as we thought.”

“I’m not bashing ya. Just saying.” Daryl shrugged. “Get it when and where ya can, right?”

With a sigh, Rick nodded. “Yeah, I suppose.”

An amused chuckle escaped Daryl’s lips then as some sort of afterthought entered his head. “And you sure got it last night.”

Without warning, Rick tossed a lime green spatula at Daryl and snickered despite the conversation aimed at his expense. “Fuck off,” he muttered with a laugh of his own.

“Only if you cuddle me afterward.”

“Did either of you see the family photos of the people who used to live here?” Milo asked as he suddenly appeared in the kitchen with a framed picture in either hand, holding them up. “They look like they fell down the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down…and then the tree fell on them. Look—the mother has a biggest, fucking snaggletooth I’ve ever seen. Like, how do you afford to live in a nice house like this but not have a dentist to fix shit like that?”

Rick and Daryl looked at each other again and just shook their heads with a smile.



Nearly half a mile’s distance away from the white house Rick was in with Daryl and Milo, Finn was leading the way into a single story, tan brick home with woods covering it on all sides except, obviously the front. Jo and Tara followed after him with their respective weapons, keeping a wary eye out.

The part of the neighborhood they were in seemed much more closed off and secluded, like a hidden gem that could prove to be a goldmine where necessary supplies were concerned. They were also fortunate in not having come across a single walker to have to contend with. That, however, did not mean they let their guards down. There was always the possibility of a walker still inside the house, unintentionally hiding where they least expected it.

They were barely in the front entranceway to the house when Finn opted to go right and secure the main living space while he suggested Jo and Tara go left toward the directions they could easily assume the bedrooms and bathrooms were in. Smirking at her little brother taking a more authoritative stance with her, Jo shook her head but obliged him, leading the brunette female down the hall on their left.

“It’s kind of funny, isn’t it?” Tara muttered, holding her gun at eye level.

“What is?” Jo asked without looking over her shoulder.

“How far we’ve come.”

Jo shrugged. “Well, it’s really not that big of a distance. I mean, in an ideal world, all of us could’ve gotten here from Atlanta in under eight hours by car.”

“No, I mean personally.”

Pausing, Jo turned and looked behind her at Tara. “Since the very beginning?”

Tara shook her head as she pushed open the door to a darkened bathroom. “No, I mean…you and me,” she replied, removing a small flashlight from her pocket, turning it on and shining it into the room. “The first time we spoke or just interacted was at the prison when I cut your hands free and you told me to get the fuck away.”

Looking down at the ground and recalling the memory from nearly a month before, Jo smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t think I ever actually apologized.”

“Oh god, no. You don’t have to,” Tara commented adamantly. “I realized Brian—The Governor was in the wrong. None of that felt right, and that’s why I was trying to leave. If there was at least one good thing I would be able do that day, helping you was gonna be it.”

“Well, I appreciate it. I really do,” Jo insisted. The two of them just stood there, looking at each other and not bothering to look around the bathroom at the moment; instead just continuing with their heart to heart. “If you hadn’t helped me, it might’ve taken me longer to free my own hands and I might not have been able to get to Rick and help him in time and kill The Governor. Plus, you did do more good that day. You helped Morgan get Mika safely away from the prison. That alone trumps everything bad you might’ve done for blindly following a man you thought to be the good guy.”

“I think I always had a feeling there was something not good about him, though. He didn’t talk much about himself, but when he did he spun it to make him sound like this terrible victim and he was out for justice.”

“Yeah,” Jo scowled, unable to prevent her initial memories of The Governor from popping up in her mind. “He had that way about him. He could charm the spots of a leopard, and smile so brightly, but the smile never reached his eyes. That was my first clue there was something off. I mean, if you’re genuinely happy about something, a smile will reach your eyes. He just seemed…”

“Dead on the inside.”

Jo nodded, stepping over to the medicine cabinet and pulling it open. “Something like that.”

“I’m sorry what he did to you,” Tara added, shining the flashlight into the cabinet. “He told my sister and me that the two of you had been in serious relationship, but that you ran off with another man—I assume he meant Rick—and when he confronted you about it, you attacked him and took his eye all before Hope was born. I mean, I know the truth now. Sophia filled me in on the details just after Terminus.”

Grabbing a packet of some generic Ibuprofen from the cabinet’s shelf, Jo frowned. “I’m sorry, too. I know you lost your family, too, that day,” she commented, shoving the packet into her back pocket.

“I saw my sister carrying my niece Meghan’s body, so I know she died. I just don’t know what happened to my sister after that.” Tara shrugged sadly. “I assume she died, too.”

“Well,” Jo muttered sadly. “I hope it was quick.”

“Yeah. Same.”

Not half a second later, Tara’s foot slipped on the small area rug on the bathroom floor and nearly went falling back against the tub, but Jo reached her hand out in time. She latched onto Tara’s wrist and pulled the brunette back upright, both letting out an amused laugh.

“Don’t tell your brother I did that. He and Milo and I have taken to busting each other’s balls, and I really don’t wanna give him any ammo to use against me.”

Jo shook her head. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with—”

An abrupt shout and a heavy thud from the other side of the house drew their attentions immediately away from each other as both females darted out of the bathroom, up the hallway and rounded their way into the kitchen where Jo spotted Finn lying face down on the floor. His pack was missing as was his gun and Jo nearly began to hyperventilate when she couldn’t tell right away whether or not he was still breathing.

Dropping down to her knees, Jo ran her hand along the back of Finn’s head, her fingers through his sandy blonde hair before pushing him over onto his back to get a better look from him. Placing two fingers to his neck, she sank back onto her feet in relief when she felt a pulse.

“He’s alive. Thank god.”

“Jo,” came Tara’s nervous voice from behind her.

Turning around, Jo found herself looking up at the brunette and an incredibly dirty man in his late twenties or early thirties and a W carved into his forehead holding a knife to Tara’s neck. Tara, while still holding her gun in one hand, had both her hands raised up and looked rather terrified as the blade hovered dangerously close to her skin of her throat.

“What the—” Jo began to mutter and instinctively reached for her sword, but was stopped by the tutting of someone appearing around the corner from the other end of the kitchen. Slowly and cautiously, she turned and looked up at another man, who appeared to be slightly older than her with a W on his forehead as well, and who was aiming Finn’s shotgun at her head. “Listen, you can take our supplies. You can keep our weapons. Just…just let us go.”

The man with Finn’s shotgun smirked. “The supplies and weapons are an added benefit for us, but not what we’re here for.”

“And what would that be?” Keeping her focus on him, she avoided making any sudden movements that would see her or her own maimed or killed. It was hard to keep a steady breath, though; her nerves suddenly fraying.

“We need numbers.”

With grin full of yellowed teeth and a nod of his head, the man with Finn’s shotgun gave some sort of signal to his buddy. Jo turned over to glance over her shoulder as the younger of the two men snatched Tara’s gun away from her and began to pat her down for other weapons; finding a pocket knife and slipping into his own pocket. He then shoved Tara forward, forcing her to take a seat at the kitchen table as he approached Jo while the man with the shotgun kept the weapon trained on both women in case of any sudden movements.

“Drop it, Buffy,” the man with the shotgun advised when Jo had yet to take her hand off the hilt of her sword.

With cautious reluctance, Jo did as advised and held her hands up in a sort of surrender, watching with furious eyes as she held the older man’s gaze while the younger one began patting her down. When her own gun and her own pocket knife were removed from her, he then took her sword and slipped off her scabbard.

Stepping forward, the younger man handed the sword he sheathed into its scabbard over to his friend, who lowered the shotgun long enough to slip the scabbard over his left shoulder.

“Get the ties,” the older man advised.

Opening up the satchel on his hip, the younger man removed to men’s neckties and stepped over toward Tara. Grabbing her roughly by the arm, he jerked her hands behind her back and began to bind her wrists together. Jo took her gaze away from the man with the shotgun to look nervously over at her friend, to give her some silent assurance that they’d be okay and somehow they’d get out of this.

Once her hands were bound good and tight, Tara was shoved back down into the kitchen chair and the younger man stalked up behind Jo and grabbed both of her arms and pulled her up to her feet. As she stood there, Jo didn’t fight as her hands were pulled behind her back and tied together the same as Tara’s. She simply brought her attention and a deathly stare back at the older of the two men with promise that she would find a way to destroy them. And if she didn’t have the opportunity, she sure as hell knew Rick would find them and their asses would belong to him. Of that Jo was certain.

And, because of that certainty, she allowed the tiniest of smug smiles to toy at the corners of her lips and it was not lost on the man with Finn’s shotgun.

“What’s so funny, princess?”

“Just thinking about the different ways I’d like to kill you right now.”

“You flatter me.”

As he pressed the barrel of the shotgun against her chest, Tara cried out. “No, don’t! Please. She’s pregnant.”

The older man glanced at Tara, taking in what she’d said, and then back to Jo and an amused grin. “That is definitely useful information.” Gesturing toward the doorway to the kitchen where Jo and Tara had initially come in from, the older man with the W on his forehead commented to his friend. “These two will do.”



Rick walked along the road with that damned bowlegged gait of his and a content smile upon his face. With his Colt holstered, his carried his backpack over his left shoulder while leading Daryl and Milo onto the next house on the street he felt worth scavenging. Milo brought up the rear, lagging as usual as he messed around with an iPod he had indeed found while Daryl maintained his position between both men, with his crossbow lowered at his side and his blue eyes squinting more than normal from the sunlight shining directly into their faces.

“Don’t even think of listening to whatever shit’s on there until we’re back at the house,” Daryl muttered, throwing a brief look over his shoulder at the bearded blonde.

“I’m not gonna,” Milo assured. “I’m just trying to untangle the headphones. You’d think someone in the last decade would’ve mastered inventing non-tangling headphone cords.”

Rick smirked and cast an eye over his own shoulder to Daryl. “Anything trivial you’d like to find for yourself in the next house?” he asked his friend.

Daryl shrugged. “Nah.”

“Not your very own iPod? Listen to some Boston or Foreigner?”

With a snicker, the archer shook his head. “Fuck that shit. AC/DC, man. Some ‘Back In Black’ or ‘Highway to Hell’ is what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

“I would think you’d had enough highway to hell with how this world is,” Rick quipped.

Daryl shrugged. “The world’s more quiet now. I’m okay with that part.”

Rick looked back forward and nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“How d’you think the others are faring right now?”

“Well,” Rick looked around in the direction of the other homes and tilting his head to the side, “I haven’t heard any shouts for help. I suppose that’s a good sign.”

“What if they aren’t close enough for us to hear them if they shout?” Milo questioned. “Four groups, spreading out. Seems unlikely we’d know if shit goes down.”

Rick paused and looked back at Milo with a frown. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

Off Daryl’s grunt of amusement, Rick caught his eye, gave a shake of his head and continued onward.



“Keep walking.”

Jo and Tara had been traipsing begrudgingly through the woods for about fifteen minutes since leaving the tan brick home where Finn had been left unconscious on the kitchen floor. The only comfort Jo took was that her brother was alive and when he came to, she knew that when he couldn’t find her or Tara that he would go straight for Rick and the others and a search party would be thrown together. She knew her group had enough muscle and fire power between them; she just didn’t know if the two men behind her were by themselves or, if not, how many people they did have.

She’d survived being taken prisoner by The Governor enough times and each time somehow ending with people she cared about getting hurt. She could only wish this time would be different.

“What exactly do you need numbers for?” Jo asked, wincing when a rather sharp branch scratched at her bare arm.

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over,” the younger man replied.

“What’s with the W’s on your forehead? Some sort of gang symbol?”

The older man snickered. “You could say that.”

“What does it mean?” Tara braved her own question.

“Wolves.”

Jo hesitated for a moment. When one of the men gave her a rough push forward, she picked up the pace again. Briefly, she cast a glance over at Tara. “Wait—all that graffiti. Wolves Not Far. That was you?”

“We’re just one cog in the wheel.”

“Two lone wolves part of a larger pack?” Jo mused.

Placing his hand on the back of her head, the older Wolf gave Jo a brief shake and snickered. “Exactly.” Casting a look at his friend, he added, “See, I knew that thing about blondes being dumb was a myth.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Where are you taking us? Are you taking us to your pack?”

“You ask too many questions. It’s kind of annoying. Chris, get another tie out.”

Instinctively, Jo’s senses went on alert as the older Wolf grabbed hold of her shoulder to stop her from walking. Tara stopped as well, turning to see the younger Wolf reaching into his satchel for a third necktie which he proceeded with wrapping around Jo’s mouth; so, if she tried to speak any further, her words would come out garbled.

Practically snarling at the gesture, Jo’s green eyes darkened with anger as the tie was tightened around the back of her head. As soon as she felt the older Wolf’s arm hand leave her shoulder, the barrel of Finn’s shot gun took its place to urge her onward again.

Soon enough, the woods came to an end and the four of them exited out onto a quiet road that was lined with houses on the other side. Dead leaves scattered the pavement and the grass, there were a few abandoned cars and most of the homes seemed to have been either ransacked or torched. Each car or truck, though, mirrored the other vehicles and buildings Team Family had spotted on their way through town the day before. They shared the same message.

Wolves Not Far.

They certainly weren’t anymore.

A few yards up ahead, they reached an intersecting road, which Jo paid attention to the name of for later in case she and Tara had to find their way back to the others.

Raleigh Avenue.

Squirreling that name away for later, Jo let herself be led along the road beside Tara in utter silence, aside from the two men occasionally chattering about random shit, like making sure they found some more water for later and to go back to some house they’d checked the day before and get some magazines they’d apparently forgotten.

Judging by their immature laughter in regard to that latter piece of information, Jo could easily wager a guess those magazines were of the pornographic variety.

Twenty minutes along that same road, it came to an end and Jo glimpsed the street sign for the new road they were approaching: West Atlantic. Slowing her pace down, Jo waited to see which direction the wolves led them.

“Turn right,” the younger Wolf ordered, and both females obliged.

Continuing on, they made their way past a few houses on either side of the road. The pavement was surprising clean, considering most roads Jo and the others had found themselves traveling in the last few weeks. The only exception was the school bus they meandered past with had the same graffiti on it in white spray paint.

That wasn’t what caught Jo and Tara’s attention, though.

Not the graffiti.

Not the Wolves Not Far message.

It was that the bus was filled with dead children, slumped in their seats or against the windows, horribly decayed and unmoving. Not one moved as the four walked past, meaning each child had most likely received that final death blow to the head before or after they died and turned. Either which way it happened was traumatizing; especially to Jo and Tara, what with Jo being a mother and Tara having lost her niece.

Closing their eyes tight to try and erase the image of the bus out of their minds, both women inhaled and exhaled a steadying breath.

After another ten minutes up the road, they approached a rundown Quik Stop gas station with several abandoned vehicles at the pumps and otherwise encircling the property, possibly put there for strategic reasons. Unlike the road, the lot was covered in debris and decaying bodies of regular people and walkers alike, both inside and outside the vehicles. The awning over the three pumps, as well as the three pumps, to the left of the gas station’s convenience store were toppled over and charred. It seemed that the lifted Chevy Silverado 4x4 pickup truck lodged atop one of the pumps had caused an explosion at some point in the past after the initial outbreak. The pavement in the immediate vicinity had dark marks caused from a fire long since extinguished. The left side of the building was also somewhat blackened and the structure cracked with blown out windows from the obvious blast. The two individual pumps to the front and other vehicles seemed untouched, aside from the signs tacked on informing there was no more gas available.

“And here we are,” Chris, the younger Wolf announced, stepping around in front of both women with his arms held out wide at his sides.

“This is where you live?” Tara wondered.

“No, we don’t live anywhere,” the older Wolf, whose name still went unknown, replied as he nudged them along to follow Chris forward toward the building. “We are just sleeping here for a while.”

“Why here, though, when there are a ton of homes around here?”

“People don’t belong in homes like that anymore.”

“Why not?”

With a sigh of aggravation, the older Wolf stopped walking and lowered the shotgun to snapped his fingers from his free hand at Chris. “Will you gag her, too? I’m done with the twenty questions.”

Tara seemed to reveal a mix of nervousness and defiance on her face when Chris removed yet another necktie from his satchel and cover her mouth with it the same as he did to Jo. She and Jo were then led inside the building and forced down onto their knees near the cashier’s counter as a sense of fight or flight entered their minds.

“Stay put,” the older Wolf commanded, stepping down an aisle of virtually bare shelves toward a door near the back of the building.

Jo watched after his retreating form; how he still held onto the shotgun and how her sheathed sword was strapped to his back.

Chris, meanwhile, smirked down at both women and hoisted himself up to sit on the counter with his legs dangling over the edge. As the older Wolf slipped into the back room and shut the door behind him, both Jo and Tara glanced up at Chris.

Jo took that moment to mutter something to him as best as she could figuring that Chris was the weaker link of the two men. Unable to understand what she was saying due to her necktie gag, he just rolled his eyes at her while picking at his fingernails with the tip of the blade from Tara’s pocket knife. When Jo attempted to get back up to her feet, Chris immediately jumped down to the ground and shoved the small blade toward her face in a silent warning to get back down to her knees. When she relented and sank down to the dirty tiled floor, Jo attempted to communicate with him for a second time.

With a sigh, he kept the knife aimed at her face but pulled the gag out of her mouth to rest on her chin for a moment. “What?”

“I just want to know what you’re planning on doing with us,” she finally spoke. “We have a lot of people that will be looking for us, and when they find you, you’re dead. So why don’t you just let us go and we can let bygones be bygones.”

“Nope,” Chris shook his head and replaced the gag in her mouth without a second thought. “Like we said, we need the numbers.

“Feh wuh?” Jo mumbled.

“For what?” Off her nod, Chris smirked and ruffled a few strands of her blonde hair with the small blade. “It never troubles the wolf how many the sheep may be. Virgil.”

“Ah we seep?” she continued to try and speak as clearly as possible.

Baaa.”

Off Jo’s scowl, Chris drew a W mid-air in front of her forward and then stepped backward toward the counter to lean against.

A wave of anxiety quickly began to build up within Jo as she cast a wary glance over at Tara.



Not much time had passed for Jo and Tara when Rick and Daryl were leading the way out of the second house they’d scavenged that afternoon. Milo was rushing out right after them, adjusting the belt on his pants and frowning at the older men ahead of him on the road.

“You couldn’t wait two minutes? I was almost done.”

Rick couldn’t help himself but flash a shit-eating grin over his shoulder at Daryl while Milo fumbled with getting the prongs into the holes of his belt. “Time and tide waits for no man.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were on a tight schedule considering we ain’t heading back out onto the road until tomorrow,” Milo retorted sourly.

Smacking his lips, Daryl shook his head. “Should’ve gone before we left the house, then you wouldn’t have to worry about us leaving ya.”

“Well, I didn’t have to go before, now did I?”

Rick knitted his brow together and threw Milo a look. “You know we weren’t actually leaving you, right? And even if we did, we’re only staying down that road right there,” Rick remarked, gesturing in the direction of the yellow house which was quite visible from where they were. “You got a gun and a knife on you. If we’d left you to make it back all by your lonesome, I’m sure you’d manage with flying colors.”

Ignoring Milo’s indignant huff, Daryl reached over and nudged Rick’s elbow with his own. “I think we’re pretty good with supplies, unless you wanna hit up a third house. Like Milo said earlier, we got four groups spread out. We’ll have enough, I think.”

Rick looked at his friend and nodded. “Yeah, I think we’re good, too,” he agreed. “We gotta be able to carry all this shit with us tomorrow anyway. Might as well quit while we’re ahead.” Throwing a half-smirk over at Milo, he asked, “You good with that, princess?”

“Oh shut up,” the bearded blonde snapped back with a chuckle, clearly showing no signs of ill will. “I should’ve gone off with Finn and Jo. You could’ve taken Tara instead.”

“Probably would’ve cleared both those houses quicker, too, with Tara,” Daryl teased, just plain ol’ instigating now.

Ducking down, Milo grabbed up a handful of small stones and tossed them at the back of Daryl’s legs. When the archer spun around with an aggravated grunt, Milo simply laughed.

“You best watch it, boy. I’ll lodge one of my bolts into your head faster than you can whine about it.”

Milo skirted off to the other side of Rick as if attempting to put a safe distance between him and Daryl. “See, if you do that, though, Finn would get pissed off at you, and then Jo would get pissed off to see her brother so sad over the loss, and then Rick would get mad to see his beautiful wife sad that her brother’s sad.”

“You don’t know my wife very well,” Rick quipped. “And we could always just tell Finn it was an accidental shooting; friendly fire. I think Finn would get over it.”

“Aww,” Milo mock pouted. “That’s not fair.”

Muted chuckles went between Rick and Daryl as the three of them made their way back down the road they were staying on when they spotted Michonne, Morgan and Merle heading back, cutting across some tall grass that between several properties to the north of the house they were staying in. Rick gave a wave, which Morgan saw and nodded back while holding up his pack which looked to be almost bursting at the seams. The smile on the other man’s face suggesting his group’s scavenging trip had gone as well as Rick’s group.

As all six of them came together in front of the yellow house, Rick shifted his own pack on his shoulder while Milo ascended the stairs to duck inside the house while the remainder caught up with each other.

“Everything go okay? No issues?” Rick inquired.

Michonne gave a shake of her katana, flinging off some excess blood as if to denote there might’ve been a minor hiccup. “Just a few walkers,” she replied. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Rick looked at her and then to Morgan, who he noticed was letting his gaze linger on the woman a moment longer than necessary. Not reading too far into it, Rick shifted his weight and focused his gaze on Merle, although he addressed all three when he asked, “You see if any of the others got back yet?”

Michonne nodded. “Karen got sick in one of the houses. Dead bodies sealed up in some room she looked into. Started throwing up, so Nicole headed back with. Tyreese went with them and we passed him on our way out of the first house we checked. He said that since he knew Karen was okay to leave behind here that was going to go find—”

“Finn!” Rick shouted, suddenly spotting something concerning over everyone’s shoulders.

Michonne let her words fall away as she whipped around along with the other three men standing there. Up the road perpendicular to the yellow house, Tyreese was helping Finn walk while the younger man held a hand to the side of his head. Rick dropped his pack and was beating pavement instantly.

Finn was his family now, is brother-in-law, and his well-being was therefore elevated in his eyes. If he was injured or something was wrong with him he was thoroughly concerned.

“Hey, hey, hey, what happened?” Rick demanded, eyeing Tyreese and then looking around for Jo and Tara. “Where are the girls?”

“I’m sorry,” Finn muttered pitifully, which did nothing to sate Rick’s nerves which were starting to skyrocket.

“What happened?”

“I found him in some house, face down on the kitchen floor, out cold,” Tyreese explained. “The girls weren’t there.”

“I was checking the kitchen cupboards, had one of the doors open. I never even saw him walk up from the other room,” Finn began saying, looking up at Rick with pained eyes. “As soon as I closed the cupboard door, I saw him standing there. I didn’t even get to ask him who he was or what he wanted. He hit me with a fucking frying pan. I blacked out instantly. I don’t even remember falling to the ground or if I even shouted in pain. And I don’t know what happened to my sister and Tara. I woke up to Tyreese hovering over me, shaking me.”

“Once I got him up, we checked the house and the one across the street, but the girls weren’t there,” Tyreese continued, eyeing Rick who felt sick to his stomach.

“Okay,” was all Rick muttered as he began walking away from them all toward the direction Tyreese and Finn had just come from.

“Rick, wait!” Daryl called out.

“I gotta go find Jo.” He paused and turned around, locking eyes with the archer for a moment and then looking over to Tyreese. “Get Finn into the house. Have Nicole look at him; make sure he ain’t concussed.”

Just as Rick turned to keep walking, Daryl hurried up and caught up to him, grabbing his arm. “Hey, if you’re going to look for them, I’m coming with you,” he insisted. “You’re a damn fine leader, but you sure as hell ain’t a tracker.”

“I’ll come, too,” Merle offered. “Two trackers are better than one.”

“So will I.”

Rick and the Dixon brothers turned their attention toward Michonne who was just as rearing to go as they were.

“I’ll stay back here in case the girls come back and want to know where you are,” Morgan commented.

Rick nodded back at him. “Thank you.”

As Rick, Michonne and the Dixons began to head up the road, Finn called out to them before they were out of sight.

“Rick!”

The former sheriff’s deputy spun around mid-step. “Yeah?”

“First house on the right after the bend in that road,” he informed, referring to the road Rick and the others were about to turn onto. “Tan brick house. That’s the house we were in. There were other houses at further down, and also a lot of woods.”

Rick took the hint as the brothers-in-law held each other’s eye for a moment.

If Jo and Tara had been taken by the man who knocked Finn out, they could be anywhere.



The older Wolf returned back into the storefront after a few minutes, eyeing his partner in crime with a mischievous smile before turning his full attention on both females. He let his fingers drag slowly along the bare shelves, staring between Jo and Tara with a look of contemplation on his face.

“Eeny, meeny, miny, mo. Catch a tiger by the toe,” he murmured in a sing song voice. “If he hollers, let him go. Eeny…meeny…miny…” Settling his gaze upon Tara, he grinned. “Mo.”

Jo and Tara both began to breathe a little quicker, worried about what he had up his sleeve for them.

“Wuh ah yuh gon’ do?” Jo questioned as audibly as she could muster despite the necktie impeding her speech.

“Well, we have no plans to kill you so don’t worry your pretty little head just yet,” he answered, seeming to understand what she was asking. “I mean, that decision isn’t up to us anyway. That’s up to our alpha who we’ll be taking you. Either you’ll become one of us or you’ll become part of our army.”

Jo knitted her brow in both fear and confusion.

Off her look, the older Wolf smirked. “For now, the only thing we have to kill is time.”

Stalking up to Tara, he crouched down and cupped his hands over her ample breasts, giving them a quick massage that caused her to squirm uncomfortably. It was like a lightbulb going on for both women then; understanding exactly what the older Wolf meant by killing time.

“I’ve always been a breast man, too,” Chris chuckled, giving his nameless friend an agreeing look.

“You’ll do just fine,” the older Wolf spoke directly to Tara as he grabbed her arms and pulled her up to her feet. As he began to lead her toward the backroom, with her petrified whimpers filling the air, the older Wolf turned and pointed at Jo. “When I’m finished you can take a turn or have blondie there.”

“Pfft,” Chris shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had your sloppy seconds.”

Before the older Wolf could reach the backroom door, Jo was able to use her tongue to successfully push the necktie out of her mouth to rest more upon her bottom lip instead.

“No!” she bellowed; shaking as she saw red.

The older Wolf stopped and he turned to look directly at her. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” she repeated with a suddenly calm and collected voice. She was swallowing back her rage, knowing it wouldn’t help her think straight. She need a clear head and to gain as much control over the situation as she could. “You cannot have her.”

“Oh, I can’t, can I?” The older Wolf snickered and lifted his gaze to Chris, who was now holding Jo’s gun to the back of her head. “And why’s that?”

“She’s a lesbian. She’s never been with a man,” Jo admitted.

“Even better,” Chris chortled. “We’ll boldly go where no man has gone before.”

“She won’t be able to give you the satisfaction you need because she’s naïve to a man’s touch,” Jo pressed on.

“Oh?” the older Wolf raised an eyebrow at her.

Before she spoke, Jo saw Tara shaking her head at her, as if the brunette was willing to resign herself to being raped for the sake of Jo’s and her baby’s wellbeing. “I, on the other hand, have the experience. I know all the moves. Take me instead. I will go willingly with you. I will not put up a fight. You can both have me, as many times as you want. Just leave her alone.”

Tara was staring at her with horror now and whimpering through the necktie hindering her words as she fought to convince Jo to not sacrifice herself in such a way. She knew what Jo had suffered at the hands of The Governor and she shouldn’t have to be subjected to a similar fate again. Tara would take one for the team if that’s what it took.

The older Wolf and Chris exchanged looks, considering this new option set before them.

“What say you to this, brother?” The older Wolf questioned.

“I dunno, Kev. I was really hoping to see those tits of hers,” the younger Wolf admitted, gesturing toward Tara.

Jo pursed her lips. “Kev? That short for Kevin?”

The older Wolf nodded. “Yeah.”

“Funny. That’s what my first boyfriend’s name was. Kevin Pataski. Real good kisser.”

Kevin, the older Wolf, looked back at her with an impish grin and hesitated for a few moments, letting the wheels in his head turn. “You would be the better choice, now that I think of it,” he remarked. “If we keep you around, we don’t have to worry about impregnating you because apparently you’re already knocked up. However…” He shoved Tara aside so roughly that she fell into a half empty rack of road maps.

Tara’s yelp could be heard clear as day despite the necktie gag as she tumbled unceremoniously to the ground and out of Jo’s immediate line of sight. The older female glanced from Kevin, toward the direction Tara had fallen and back to Kevin as he glared at her; withdrawing his own knife and pointing it toward her.

“However,” he continued, “you did tell me earlier that you were thinking about a bunch of ways to kill me.”

“How can I kill you with my hands tied behind my back?” she questioned him as if he were a small, idiot child. “I’m offering myself up to you as a real live sex toy and you’re hesitating? Are you not man enough to know a good thing when it’s offered? Are you really going to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Biting back on his pride, Kevin huffed and shook his head. “Okay, then. I’ll take you instead,” he agreed, “if only to shut that smartass mouth of yours.”

“If you promise to be gentle, I’ll promise that my mouth will make you see God.”

Licking his lips, Kevin nodded and smirked. “Alright. I accept your…challenge.” Without another word, he stalked up to her and pulled her up to her feet. Looking down at her, his breath was hot on her face and he watched the way her gaze never wavered as she stared back at him; unknowing that she was fighting back the gag reflex in her throat due to the putrid smell of his breath. “C’mon.”

As he began to drag her toward the backroom, Chris walked over to Tara and brought her back over toward the cashier counter where he sat her down on the floor. Jo was able to toss a look over her shoulder back at Tara, and see how terrified to younger woman looked, just before being pushed forward into the dark room where one stout pillar candle rested upon a small table.

Once the door was shut behind them, Kevin locked it and led Jo toward the other end of the room where two sleeping bags were spread out. Jo looked around at the way the minimal light from the tiny flame jumped along the walls nearest it. Although, since they were at the opposite side of the room, which had been a storage room before but was not virtually wiped clean of supplies, the two of them were still mostly bathed in darkness.

Slowly, Kevin forced her to sit down upon one of the sleeping bags and she watched as he removed whatever weapons he still had upon him. She could see, over by the table with the candle, that her sword and its scabbard were propped against the wall, along with Finn’s shotgun. When he turned back to her, Jo sank within herself for a moment, the memories of The Governor popping into her head without invitation. Closing her eyes briefly, she tried her best to tune the images out but the sounds of Kevin unfastening his belt jogged her back to the present.

Staring up at him, Jo clenched her jaw and watched with anxiety coursing through her veins as if her blood was on fire. She tensed up on instinct at the way he grabbed her legs and forced her to lie down, which was awkward with her hands still bound behind her back. She also flinched when he reached for her face, but was able to calm herself slightly when she realized he was removing the necktie that had been used as he mouth gag. When he tossed that aside, though, that was when she began to tense right back up, despite how willing she had presented herself to be in the storefront.

It had all been a show, of course; to spare Tara and find a way to separate both men that would be beneficial to Jo in order to do whatever she could to save her and Tara’s asses if no one from their group could get to them in time.

The feel of Kevin’s rough hands unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down her waist, along with her underwear made her want to cry out and thrash around, but her body went rigid. She held her breath as she watched him removed her boots, and then her jeans and underwear completely; tossing them aside and then spreading her legs so he could kneel between them. As he shoved his own pants down off his hips, Jo could just barely make out his stupid, grinning face and, suddenly, everything went calm for her.

There were no memories of The Governor assaulting her senses. There was no anxiety over how she was about to allow herself to become raped for the sake of protecting Tara. There wasn’t even fear anymore.

There was only pure, undulated rage and it was like a drug.

Jo welcomed it.

She breathed it in like a fragrant rose.

And suddenly everything felt peaceful, and what she had to do make perfect sense.

As Kevin lowered himself down upon her body and went about positioning himself at her entrance, Jo caught his eye and smiled.

“What?” he asked out of curiosity before he made a single advance.

“Can I just ask one favor and then you can do whatever you want?” she asked.

“I suppose, since you’re being such a good sport.”

Never letting her smile fade, she craned her neck to the side. “Can you come closer? I don’t want my friend to hear me. It’s kind of embarrassing and I want to be able to leave this room with whatever dignity I can manage.”

Obliging her, Kevin leaned forward so that her lips were closer to the side of his face.

“I want you to do just one thing,” she whispered, wrapping her legs around his waist to hold him in place.

“What’s that?”

Hesitating for a moment, Jo could practically hear him smiling into her hair from how close she’d forced his body against hers. However, for Jo, her smile faded and her expression turned murderous.

“Die slowly.”

Without warning, Jo opened her mouth wide, turned her face toward his neck and bite down as deeply as she could manage. As soon as her teeth tore into his flesh, blood began to spill out. He gasped instantly in both pain and shock, and she wouldn’t let go. When she began to gag on his blood which was spilling into her mouth, she pulled her face back; ripping a chunk away the same as Rick had done to that Claimer just before Terminus.

Kevin rolled off her and she released her legs from around him as he began to bleed out from the gaping wound in his neck. Spitting the chunk of flesh from between her teeth down upon him, Jo rolled away from him and struggled to pull herself up to her knees without the help of her bound hands. Hunched forward slightly, she was able to force herself upright and stand on both feet as she turned to look around the room briefly before glancing back down at him struggling to suppress his hands to his wound.

“The more you thrash, the faster you’ll die,” she whispered, looking away from him as he still attempted so somehow prevent his impending death. “Just let it happen naturally, princess.”

Spitting excess blood from her mouth, Jo darted across the room as quiet as a mouse, thankful Kevin was dying quietly on the floor from not being able to shout for help, let alone gasp for air. All he could do was choke on his own blood and wait for death.

Jo, meanwhile, had no time to waste as she turned her back to the table and reached for one of the knives Kevin had set down. Gripping the handle with one hand, she tipped the blade upward and pressed it against the necktie binding her hands together and struggled with cutting at the silken material as she watched Kevin’s body begin to tremor and the last sounds of his death rattle filtered into the air of the backroom.

The moment his body stilled was the moment the necktie loosened and began to unravel. Dropping the knife back down onto the tap, Jo wrestled her hands free and gave her wrists a brief rub as soon as she could pull them around to her front. Her next move was to put her underwear and pants back on, and then slip into her boots; the latter two she nimbly zipped up.

Completely redressed and still sputtering Kevin’s blood from her mouth, Jo grabbed up her sword and reached for the door handle. Turning the lock, she pulled the door open a crack.

“Chris!” Jo called out. “Kevin wants me to tell you it’s your turn.”

A moment of quiet was soon broken by the sound of the younger Wolf muttering to Tara, “You make a run for it, and your friend dies, understand?”

Jo couldn’t hear if Tara responded. She simply stood behind the door, waiting with bated breath.

As Chris’ footsteps became closer and the moment she knew he was at the door, Jo opened it a bit wider and when she knew he was about to step inside and then smacked it hard into his face. In his moment of disorientation from the pain the door caused, Jo threw the door all the way open and stalked out.

In a flurry of motion, he went to raise the gun in his hand at her but Jo was quicker as she shoved the large blade straight through his chest, essentially impaling him. His finger pulled the trigger, but his aim was off and he merely struck the wall off to the side, behind Jo. Slipping the blade of out his chest as he began to teeter on his feet, Jo hauled off and brought the sword’s edge swiftly against his neck, decapitating him in one fell swoop.

His head tumbled off his neck and hit the ground and Jo was sure she saw him manage to blink once before the rest of him slumped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Dropping her arms down at her sides, Jo looked at the front of her shirt and saw how covered in blood she was. Part of it was from Kevin and the blood that had sprayed from his neck when she tore the chunk out as well as what had spilled from her mouth. The other part was now the splatter caused from lobbing off Chris’ head as easily as a child swinging his or her bat during a game of baseball.

Looking up briefly as a justifiably stunned Tara, Jo turned back toward the backroom and retreated into it. Setting her sword down for a moment, she grabbed up Finn’s shotgun and stepped over toward Kevin’s dead body, aimed the end of the barrel at his face and pulled the trigger. She refused to pay attention to destruction of his head the blast caused and instead focused on lowering the barrel down toward his dick before pulling the trigger a second time.

The sudden blast from the weapon splattered a bit more blood and chunks of him in a few directions and the sound ricocheted off the walls, which caused a slight ringing in Jo’s ears from it being in such a contained space. Turning around, she set the shotgun down for the moment to pull her scabbard onto her back, pocket her handgun, and the smaller knives, and then she grabbed the shotgun in one hand and lifted her sword up and over to sheath it behind her.

Heading back out into the storefront, Jo stepped over Chris’ body and over to Tara. Crouching down, she gently helped the younger woman up to her feet and removed the gag from her mouth before stepping behind her to untie her wrists.

“Holy fucking shit, Jo,” Tara blurted when she could finally speak freely again. “That was fucking hardcore.”

Jo stepped back around to face Tara and wasn’t sure if the brunette was impressed, terrified or both. As she Tara walked around her and headed over to the backroom, Jo watched without much thought while Tara stuck her head into the room, with her arms bracing the door frame, and then whipped back around to stare openmouthed.

“Whoa.” Dropping her hands down at her sides, it was more obvious not to Jo that Tara was shaken by the violence. “What did you do?”

Catching Tara’s eye, Jo shrugged nonchalantly. “What I had to.” With the end of Finn’s shotgun, she pointed toward Chris’ body. “Get your weapons he took from you; the gun, the pocket knife.”

Timidly, Tara obliged. She crouched down and reached for the gun still clamped into Chris’ hand. She then felt around his pockets for where he’d tucked away her pocket knife with such an uneasy expression on her face. Once she stood back up, she hurried back over toward Jo.

“Did he—?” she began to ask, watching how Jo was looking down at the shotgun in her hand. “Did the other one…?”

“No,” was Jo’s curt response, her eyes lingering toward the dirty tile floor as several thoughts ran through her mind. “He didn’t get the chance.”

Chewing on her the inside of her bottom lip, Jo’s nostrils flared as the gravity of what she’d had to do began to sink in. But, she refused to let it cloud her thoughts just yet. Not when they needed to get back to their family. Not when she needed to get back to Rick.

With a nod of her head, she gestured for Tara to lead the way back outside the building. Hovering in the doorway once she reached it, Jo cast a look back inside. “They called themselves the Wolves, right?”

Tara looked back at Jo and nodded. “Yeah.”

“If those two inside don’t make it back to the group they were going to take us to, the other Wolves will probably come looking for them.”

“Maybe, probably,” Tara shrugged and nodded at the same time; feeling like nothing more than a bundle of nerves. “So, we shouldn’t linger around and wait for them to find us. We need to get back to our own people.”

“We will,” Jo agreed. She hesitated some more, though. “Those messages we saw yesterday and today…they were warnings.” Focusing her gaze on Tara, she steeled her expression. “We should give the rest of them a warning of our own.”

“What—no. Let’s just get out of here.”

“We will,” Jo repeated.

Without another word, she slipped back inside the building, leaving Tara outside, looking around anxiously in case any walkers or maybe even more Wolves happened by. Moments later, Jo returned, holding Chris’ head. Sauntering over toward a white, Ford Bronco that was no more than ten years old, Jo set her brother’s shotgun down across the hood. She then placed the palm of her right hand against the bloody underside of Chris’ severed head and began to spell out a message with his blood along the side of the car, which raised Tara’s curiosity, despite wanting to just get the hell out of Dodge.

“Wolves beware. The Survivors are near,” Tara read once Jo had finished.

Turning to look at the younger woman, Jo nodded and set Chris’ head on the hood and grabbed the shotgun back up.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Not waiting for Tara, Jo began walking away toward the road to head back the way she remembered them coming from not even an hour earlier.

And what a fucking crazy hour it had been, was Tara’s thought process.

xxXXxxxxXXxx

“The footprints lead toward that road right there,” Daryl commented, after they had been meandering through the woods on what felt like a wild goose chase.

Rick looked down at the four different pairs of footprints they had been following and then looked up toward the gap in the trees and the pavement beyond them. Leading the way, Rick stepped out from amidst the coverage of nature and looked to his left and to his right. He was drenched in sweat by now, partially from heat and overexertion, and partially from his nerves getting the better of him.

“How the hell do we know which way they went?” Rick asked; his nerves all but shot. He blinked away the few tears that began forming along his lids and threatened to fall, and then turned to look to his right with his hands on his narrow hips.

“We could split up. Merle and I will go left, you and Daryl go right,” Michonne suggested.

As she and the Dixon brothers waited for a response, Rick let out a sigh and turned his gaze down toward the pavement. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Th-that’s good. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Or we could just stand here and wait for Jo and Tara to make their way back to us,” Merle quipped, which garnered the dirtiest scowl from Rick.

“You know I can’t just stand her and—”

“Shut up and turn the fuck around, Rick,” Merle cut him off.

Letting out a huff of frustration, Rick tore his eyes away from the older Dixon and turned to look up the left side of the road to see two fingers rounding a corner and heading in their direction. Due to the late afternoon sun beating down on him, Rick had to shield his eyes as well as squint, but dropped his hand immediately and felt as if his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

Jo!” he shouted, tearing off up the road and passing those vehicles spray painted with the Wolves Not Far messages. As he neared her, he saw how much blood she was covered in, as if she’d taken a bath in it and his eyes widened in horror. Reaching for her, he manhandled her as gently as possible to inspect her for bite marks or scratches. “Oh God, Jo—what happened? Are you bit?”

“She’s not bit,” Tara spoke for her.

Not caring about the blood transferring onto him, Rick snaked his arms around Jo’s waist and pulled her into a loving embrace. “I was so scared,” he muttered against her ear. “I didn’t know what happened to you, if you were okay or not.”

When he pulled back to look her in the face, he could see she wasn’t really reacting to anything he’d said and that her body was starting to tense under his touch. The frown lines from worry didn’t leave his forehead as he brought his hands to either side of her face.

“Jo? What happened?”

“Two men,” Tara answered. “They called themselves Wolves. It’s their messages we were seeing. They took us, bound our hands, gagged our mouths, and brought us to an old gas station. They wanted to take us back to wherever the rest of their people are.”

Rick cast his eyes over toward the brunette. “What happened there? Why is Jo covered in all this blood?”

Exhaling a nervous breath, Tara refused to go into the details, mostly for Jo’s sake. While she had been shocked and scared over everything that had happened and what Jo had taken upon herself to do, Tara knew that Jo had put her life and virtue at risk for Tara, and in doing so it had saved both their lives. A strong sense of solidarity kept Tara from admitting the details. She would leave it for Jo to go into when she chose to.

If she chose to.

“She did what she had to do,” Tara replied. Reaching out a hand, she gave Jo’s a squeeze, and then walked off to join Michonne and the Dixons.

“Jo, what happened?” he pressed.

When she finally looked him in the eye, he felt a sense of relief, but it quite short-lived.

“The gas station had plenty of vehicles. I know the signs said no gas, but those Wolves got here from somewhere, and I doubt by walking. One of the vehicles there they might’ve been using. There could be gas. There was van. We could fit plenty of us in there along with our supplies,” she began to ramble. “We can’t keep walking. It’s already taking us longer than it should to get to DC and find Hope.”

His gaze darting back and forth between each of her eyes, Rick’s nerves were still jumpy. He wasn’t used to seeing Jo this clinical and nearly catatonic. “What’s important is you’re okay and getting you back to base,” he insisted. “We can live without vehicles. They’re not really the necessity here. You’re alive, I’m alive, everyone else is alive. We got food, water, clothes on our backs and we can fight shelter in a heartbeat. That’s what’s important.”

Focusing her gaze on Rick, she almost nearly glared up at him. “There were vehicles,” she repeated. “I’ll show you.”

Just staring at her, confused with how to handle this sudden change in her, Rick looked over his shoulder at the others. “Merle, c’mere a second.” As the one-handed older Dixon approached, Rick leaned in to continue quietly, “Stay here with Jo while I talk to your brother, okay?” Off the man’s nod, he walked at a quickened pace over to Daryl, Michonne and Tara. First, he eyed Tara with a stern gaze. “Will you please tell me what happened to her?”

Tara frowned. “They…” She shrugged, not wanting to reveal what went down unless Jo chose to say anything about it but seeing torn up Rick seemed about not knowing felt almost worse, and in turn made her feel guilty. “They were gonna rape me,” she admitted in a low voice, which caused the three standing around her to stare back with mild shock and horror. “Jo stopped them by offering herself instead. One of them took her into a backroom and they were gone only a few minutes. Five tops. Then the door open and Jo called for the other guy, said it was his turn, but just as he got to the door she smacked it in his face and came out of the room covered in blood and she ran the other guy through with her sword and then cut off his head. Then she went back inside and shot the other guy who was already dead.”

“She did that all by herself?” Daryl questioned. “What were you doing?”

“I was tied up.”

Rick got in her face, but in a kind manner. “Was that all that happened?”

“She left a message for anymore Wolves.” Tara looked back at him and then down. “We were talking about The Governor earlier today. And then what just happened with those Wolves, I think it took her back to that place when he kept her locked up. I think her doing what she did today was a way of…I dunno. Closure? But I don’t think she realized how far she would be able to go. I think it scared her. I think that’s why she’s acting the way she is.”

Rick blinked a few times, letting the information wrap around his mind as he stood up straighter and placed his hands on his hips. “Thank you…for telling me.” Looking to Daryl, he nodded. “Head back to the house, keep an eye on things for me. Don’t go into detail with the others about what Jo did, just what they need to know.”

“What are you gonna do?” Michonne asked.

“Jo says that gas station had plenty of vehicles and she’s adamant about us getting some. Right now, I just want to appease her by checking it out, and frankly I think I need to see what went down with my own eyes to better understand why she’s…”

Rick turned and gestured toward Jo who was gripping Finn’s shotgun tightly in her right hand and looking off toward the trees on their right.

“Michonne can take Tara back. I’ll come with,” Daryl offered.

“No, I need you back at the house. I’ll take Merle,” Rick insisted. “If more of those Wolves come by, we need as many of our people there for protection. And if something should happen to me, Jo or Merle, I need you to lead the others. You made me a promise in Atlanta that if anything ever happened to me you’d take care of our people as I would and I need you to hold to that right now.”

“I do.”

“Good, then head back. Jo knows the way to this gas station, so she can show us how to get there.”

“I can go. She shouldn’t have to go back to that,” Tara remarked.

Rick shook his head. “No, I want her near me,” he replied. “I need to keep an eye on her, and if she gets upset about anything I know I can calm her down. She used to wake up with terrible nightmares about The Governor. I’ve seen her flustered and beside herself with that kind of fear that’s hard to shake off right away. And, she’s my wife. It’s my place to take care of her, no matter what.”

Without saying anything else and simply giving a solemn nod to Daryl, Rick walked off back toward Merle and Jo, informing Merle where they were going and then taking Finn’s shotgun from her. Initially, she tightened her grip at the gesture, but then released and let Rick take it from her. As he used the weapon’s strap to throw it over his shoulder, Rick took her bloody right hand in his left and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Alright, honey, show us to these vehicles.”



A half hour later, Rick found himself looking up at the gas station in question and how utterly destroyed most of the outside of it looked. The closer he got toward the building with Jo and Merle, the tenser he got and the more he could feel Jo tensing beside him. Off to the right of the building, he spotted the message Tara had mentioned Jo leaving.

He hadn’t been expecting it to be written in blood on the side of a white, Ford Bronco and for there to be a reanimated severed head with a W on its forehead on the hood. However, he was content in knowing it was the head of a man who would’ve violated her if given the chance and it was something he could live with. With a nod over at Merle, the older man took the hint and walked up to the head, and shoved his bladed prosthetic through to the brain.

Turning his attention to Jo, he saw her looking away, wandering over toward a white, 12-passenger van that was parked near the side of the building, close to the toppled and charred gas pump awning. She peered inside the driver’s side window and unsheathed her sword. Since the all the side windows were tinted, it wasn’t until Jo pulled the door open to reveal a walker in the driver’s seat that Rick understood why she’d removed her weapon. As the walker turned and began to reach for her, Jo just stood there. Rick began to approach, withdrawing his Colt, but then slowed his pace when he realized the walker was still strapped in by its seatbelt and could only attempt to reach for Jo and not actually attack her. Watching his wife return her sword to its scabbard, though, was confusing.

But then he saw the way she pulled out a small knife from one of her pockets and sank it into the walker’s eye socket with a quick jab. Once it was dead for good, Jo reached across its lap and unfastened the seatbelt and began to yank the corpse out of the driver’s seat and let it fall pitifully onto the paved ground below.

Kicking the walker further away from her with her the toe of her boot, Jo then pulled herself up into the driver’s seat. Making a face from the smell that had lingered for a long while due to the dead body and leaned forward to inspect something on the dashboard, just in front of the steering wheel.

“Jo,” Rick called out.

“It’s got three quarters of a full tank. Key’s in the ignition still,” she announced, turning to look back at him.

Slowly, Rick nodded. “Okay. We’ll see if there’s some extra gas in any of these other vehicles that we can top the van off with. How big’s it inside?”

Jo turned around and did a mental count of all the seats including the front two. Glancing back at him, she replied, “Twelve.”

“So then we find a car with enough gas and that’ll fit all of us,” Merle commented. He then gestured to the van. “Can’t be much storage in the back of that beast. We can load up our supplies in the trunk of whatever car we pick.”

Rick looked at the older man and nodded. “Let’s aim for a newer model; something that won’t break down more easily.”

“On it,” Merle insisted, walking off to take a gander at the other cars and trucks abandoned around the gas station.

Stepping over to the opened driver’s side door of the passenger van, Rick returned his Colt to its holster and placed his hand on the side of the vehicle, up closer toward the roof as he peered inside at Jo. “You okay here for a couple minutes?”

Turning to look him in the eye, Jo nodded. “I’m not going anywhere,” she assured. Then, almost as if she was suddenly a bit nervous, asked, “Where are you going?”

“There’s something I need to see,” he replied with a knowing look. Not moving away from her right away, though, Rick held her gaze as he watched how she appeared almost embarrassed. Off her slow, understanding nod, he brought his hand down upon her shoulder and gave it a loving squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”

Moving away from the van, Rick walked back toward the front of the building; throwing a brief look back over toward Jo to make sure she was staying put, only to see that she was leaning forward on the steering wheel with her forehead pressed against it.

Frowning, Rick pulled the glass doors open and stepped almost soundlessly into the building. He saw nothing out of the ordinary at first until he spotted the opened backroom door. Moving toward the back aisle, he immediately spotted a decapitated body lying on the ground in a pool of blood and a puncture wound in its chest. It wasn’t rocket science to determine the body belonged to the head outside on the Bronco’s hood. Lifting his gaze toward the interior of the backroom, he could barely make out a flickering of light from what he could easily assume was some candle that was still lit, and stepping warily into the room, he would find he was correct in his assumption.

On the left was a small table with a single pillar candle upon it, so nothing too exciting there, but on the right was another story.

Lying across two sleeping bags was the other Wolf, naked from the waist down and whose groin area had been destroyed by a shotgun blast. Rick, out of instinct, winced. However, he held no remorse for the man. Letting his eyes wander higher, he saw a gaping wound in the side of the man’s neck and that there was a pretty decent hole in the center of his face.

“Fuck,” Rick muttered, taking in the carnage administered by his beautiful bride.

Letting the police officer in him take over as he inspected the crime scene at hand, he figured there was no way the Wolf would’ve allowed her near the shotgun. It would’ve been kept far away from her reach. He would’ve had her on the ground and if his pants were already off, Jo’s might’ve been as well, and the pit of Rick’s stomach fell at the thought that she might’ve actually been raped again by the sorry excuse of a human being lying at his feet. Tara said Jo and the Wolf hadn’t been in the room for long, but she didn’t tell him whether or not the Wolf had managed to rape Jo. He could’ve been quick about it.

Rick felt sick to his stomach just considering the notion.

If she had been raped again, he could picture how the Wolf might’ve rolled off Jo and then she launched herself at him, caught him unaware and ripped out his throat. Judging by that wound and the dried blood around Jo’s mouth and down her chin, Rick knew she had done to the Wolf what he’d done to the Claimer. If her hands were bound as Tara said they’d been, Jo’s teeth would’ve been her only weapon. And then, as the Wolf bled out, she somehow got hold of the gun. But she would’ve had to free her hands first.

Closing his eyes, Rick brought his hands up to his face and fought back his tears. He stepped back into the doorway and leaned against the frame. Sinking down the length of it, Rick took a minute to just sit there with his knees bent up toward his chest as he ran his hands over his face and then rested his arms over his knees. Inhaling and exhaling a few steadying breaths, Rick cast his gaze back and forth from inside the backroom at the half naked Wolf and outside in the storefront at the headless Wolf.

As he funneled his rage over whatever may or may not have been done to Jo and how he wished he could’ve been the one to fight off the Wolves instead of her, Rick looked up when he heard glass doors opening. He couldn’t see who was walking inside from where he sat on the floor, but the heavy footsteps alerted him to the fact that it was Merle.

Once the older Dixon turned down the aisle closest with a view toward the backroom, he stopped and frowned when he spotted the headless body a couple of feet from Rick.

“Shit,” Merle commented, walking forward toward the man seething with anger over his wife’s bad luck. “Jo can hold her own, there’s no doubt about that.”

“She shouldn’t have to,” Rick retorted, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand.

“No, she shouldn’t, but she can.” Peering his head into the backroom, Merle let out a hiss upon seeing the other Wolf’s decimated crotch, neck and face. “Dayum. The missus don’t play games when she’s fighting back, does she? Remind me to never get on her bad side.”

“It’s not funny, Merle.”

Frowning, Merle took a step back. “Sorry. Just trying to make light of a terrible situation.” After a moment, he added, “I found a car. Looks like it’ll run just fine. Has a half tank of gas in it. A few others have a quarter or less here and there. We can syphon from those and top off the half full car along with the van.”

“Is Jo still in the van?”

“Yeah, she’s just sitting there.”

“I’m scared that whatever happened in this room might’ve…” Rick lingered. “I don’t even know.”

“She ain’t broken.”

Looking down at his hands, Rick shrugged. “I hope not.”

“Believe me when I say what The Governor did to her was worse than whatever happened or almost happened here, and she bounced back from that,” Merle remarked. “And you know why?”

Letting out a sigh, Rick looked upward at Merle. “Why?”

“Because she had you. And we can all be so lucky to have what you two got.” Stepping away from Rick and heading back for the doors, the one-armed Redneck called over his shoulder, “She’ll bounce back from this, too.”



After syphoning the gas from several cars and filling up the tanks of the passenger van and a cherry red Toyota Yaris that Merle had chosen, it took just over five minutes to drive away from the gas station and reach the yellow house the group had been staying in. Merle led the way in the van, with the windows rolled down to air out the interior as best as he could, while Rick drove him and Jo back.

Despite the sour mood in the car, it felt wonderful to Rick to be able to travel behind the wheel again and was looking forward to how much quicker they would be able to reach DC now.

Pulling the Yaris into the driveway behind the van, Rick put it into park and then turned off the ignition. He made no move to get out of the car and just looked over at Jo, reaching his right hand out to place it down upon her leg. Part of him was half expecting her to jump at the gesture, but was fully comforted in how she just looked back at him with a sad smile and slipped her hand palm side up under his so that their fingers could entwine.

Offering her a loving gaze, Rick gave her hand a squeeze and pulled it up toward his lips so he could kiss her knuckles.

“I love you,” he spoke quietly.

Her sad smile gave way to a slightly happier one as she gazed at their hands. “I love you more,” she replied.

Rick snickered. “I love you the most.”

Waiting a few moments, he was pleased to see the way her smile became gradually brighter. “I love you the mostest.”

“That’s not even a word.” He kissed her knuckles again. “I’ll let it slide, though,” he added in a teasing tone.

Lowering their hands down across the center console, Rick used his left hand to reach for his door handle. Before he could even open it up, though, Jo gripped tightly onto his hand. Turning to look back at her, he saw the way she immediately began to tense up, so he sat back into his seat.

“Not yet,” she muttered. “I don’t wanna get out just yet.” Looking down at her clothes, she frowned. “I don’t want the others to see me like this or know what I had to do.”

“We’ll stay in hear as long as you need to.”

“I don’t need to stay in here that long, just…a few more minutes.”

Rick nodded. “Okay,” he replied, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “If you want, you can wait in here and I’ll go inside and find you some new clothes. We’ll go back to that pool across the street so you can clean up.”

“Yeah,” Jo agreed. “Okay.”

“Alright.” After a few moments of silence and watching as a few of their group stepped outside to see what was going on, Rick looked over at Jo and released his grip on her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

Jo simply nodded in return and remained inside the car as Rick exited it.

Walking quietly across the lawn, Rick moved to the front steps and headed up to the porch, stepping past Daryl and Karen who were both asking him if everything was okay. He avoided details and muttered a simple reply about Jo having been through a bit of hell and he was going to take her to get cleaned up. He left it at that and headed upstairs without another word. As he went through the dressers and the closets, he couldn’t find any new pants or underwear, but there was a men’s black shirt that seemed like it was something that would fit easily enough on Jo. Plus, if she had to hold onto the shirt for a while, with her pregnancy, it was something she could grow into.

Taking the shirt, he ducked into the master bedroom where he knew he had seen an extra bottle of shampoo and a bottle of body wash. Throwing a clean towel over his shoulder as well, and grabbing a washcloth, Rick exited the bathroom and then the master bedroom; heading down the stairs without saying anything to anyone. Rick made a beeline for the Yaris and walked around to Jo’s side of the car, opening the door while juggling the bottles and washcloth in his free hand.

Once she climbed out, he shut the door for her and placed a hand on the small of her back, leading her down the rest of the driveway and across the street while he knew a few of their group was watching with concern and curiosity.

Quietly they slipped into the backyard to the red brick Georgian-style home, pushing open the gate to the patio and then edging close to the in-ground pool. When Jo turned to face him, she watched as he set the towel on the patio chair and then the bottles and the washcloth on the concrete edge of the pool so it would be easier to reach once they were in the water.

“You don’t have anything else to change into,” she remarked lamely.

“I’m fine.”

Reaching his hands out, he helped her lift her shirt off and then pulled her over toward another patio chair to sit down in as he crouched down so that he could slip her boots off. Looking up at her, Rick watched the way she began to frown when he set her boots aside. She pushed his hands away when he went to help her back up and he just took a step back to give her space.

“I can do the rest. I’m not injured or incapable.”

Her tone was bitter, but he knew that bitterness was not meant for him. It was just the day having gone in a direction she hadn’t wished and was doing her best to get through.

As she began to unzip her jeans and slide them down along with her underwear, Rick began to undress as well. Stepping over to the pool ladder, he waited for her to join him before climbing down first and then pushing aside to give her room to climb down after.

Once they were both submerged in the water, Rick made his way over toward the edge and grabbed for the bottle of body wash. He wasn’t surprised when he turned back toward Jo and saw she had ducked under the surface. He just popped the cap open and squeeze a dollop of the thick liquid into the wash cloth and waited for her to come back up for air. When she did, he offered the cloth to her, which she took and began rubbing at her face and arms with to remove the dried blood from her body.

After a minute or two, Jo tossed the wash cloth out of the pool and stared back at Rick. He could see the way she was suddenly clenching her jaw and pursing her lips, and how the water lining her eyes was not from the pool water but from her tears, that she was ready to break down.

Before the first tear could fall, Rick closed the distance between their bodies, encircling his arms around her back and wrapping her tightly in his embrace. He leaned his face against her and listened as the first sob escaped her lips just as she let her face drop down against his shoulder. Snaking his right hand upward, he cradled the back of her head and just continued to hold her there with him.

As the tears fell and her body shook from sobbing, Rick couldn’t seem to avoid shedding his own tears; of sadness for what she’d gone through today and of happiness that she was alive and made it back to him.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured. Then, mirroring Merle’s earlier statement to him, he added, “You are not broken.”

“No, I’m not broken,” she whispered against his shoulder in agreement.

Notes

Comments

I absolutely love this story. I love how you re wrote the whole story but still kept the basics and changed who dies and when. I absolutely love that you kept Sophia alive because I really wished they had left her alive in the tv show. I love what you did with Negan. Absolutely perfect.

AliKook AliKook
4/23/19

@Grimesgirl63 @Loul461

Thank you :)

The ending is perfect

Loul461 Loul461
7/7/17

Thank you so much for this wonderful story. I'm very excited to hear that you are planning a sequel, and will be working on "The World We Live In".

Grimesgirl63 Grimesgirl63
7/7/17

I know we are getting to the end but I just do not want this story to be over. This chapter was great as usual and I can't wait for the next update. Glad that your ankle is better and you are settling in with your grandmother. Now, if you could just get that "e" key to work again!

Grimesgirl63 Grimesgirl63
6/30/17