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Back at the farm, you were blunt, strict, and had that air of mystery around you. 

When Sophia was chased by walkers, Rick had been the first one to run off to the woods to go after the little girl. He went looking for her as long as he could, but sunlight can only offer a couple more hours before retiring down to the horizon. 

Rick and Daryl came back with no Sophia, earning them agonizing cries from the mother. 

The sheriff had kicked himself over and over for that, unable to stomach those anguished cries of a hurt and anxious woman. He accepted the verbal assault Carol threw his way. He didn't say anything to rebut and just accepted his fate. There was no way in hell that he would be able to soothe the gaping hole in Carol's heart, so he let the woman hiss at him, glare at him— anything. 

When it comes to offering comfort to a grieving mother, no one expects that someone like you would be the first one to do so. Ever since Sophia went missing, you have never left Carol's side. You took care of her. You brought her water, let her lean her head on your shoulder, gave her your share of food and even forced it down her throat when she refused to take a bite. 

It was unexpected, but no one bathed an eye. Why would they? You made the grieving mother grounded for a while. 

You’re fat, small, and warm. You believe that you have nothing to offer to the group except your presence, knowledge regarding mental health, and how to solve a crime. Being a former FBI special agent doesn't do much in the apocalypse, but you have experience with guns, horrors of human minds, gore of crime scenes— you were a person with a profession that requires strong mental capabilities. 

You don't break down like the group did. You're calm, collected, and know how to regulate your emotions. Sure, you got mad at Rick and others for leaving Merle on the roof, but you understood that it was their fear for their safety that took control of their body. 

Their flight and fight response activated, and it was just a coincidence that Rick had to be the one handcuffing the intoxicated Dixon. 

Rick Grimes. You never knew the guy on a deeper level. He had always been the deputy in a small quaint town in southern Atlanta— a married man who couldn't keep his head off his ass while he's chasing down an aggressive rapist slash murderer. You judged him for his poor work conduct, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel that way for days on end, because in the end, he's just a human. 

All of you are just humans. 

All of you make mistakes, because humans have emotions. They make decisions using their head, but more often than not, humans let their heart lead them through decision making. Unfortunately, Rick Grimes was one of them. 

When Shane started showing signs or erratic behavior around the people in the group, along with Andrea's constant desire to prove others that she's different from the other women in the group— you knew that the group would eventually lead down a horrible path, so you warned Rick. 

Carl was shot by a man named Otis, who soon helped Shane get the equipment they needed for Carl's surgeries. 

Rick gave his son his blood so he wasn't allowed to wander too far from the farmhouse. You took this chance to warn him, to tell him that the man he considers as his best friend will soon turn his back against him for the woman they both loved. 

You looked up at him straight in the eyes then, trying your best to look as serious as possible. 

“As I have stated before, marriage isn't easy. Between making a marriage work and trying to lead people when the world is ending, it's brutal. Life is stressful enough, but honestly, the hardest pill to swallow is knowing that even the guy you trust with your life is going to let you down sooner or later. He'll look out for himself and betray you in the end, especially when he's in desperate times.” 

Rick didn't know why you're talking to him like this. Shane would do what to him? Betray him? Shane Walsh? The man who got his back and would carry him on his back even if they're walking in the hottest desert known to man? 

Rick snorted. He wouldn't. Shane wouldn't. 

However, the look on your face immediately wiped the small smile on his face. He froze, eyes widening a friction. 

“How can you be certain?” Rick forced the question out of his tongue, because there's no way that the agent he used to look up to is now giving him advice about his marriage and warning him about his best friend. 

“I’m in no way the person, nor do I have the right to say these words to you, Deputy Grimes; however, I do not wish to see the person leading this group fall apart, because of a man who would offer pleasure as comfort to a grieving woman.” You huffed, chest puffed out as you turned away from him to look at the fields in front of the house. 

You look like you were trying to distract yourself more than him. Your cryptic words made his nerves go cold. What the fuck do you mean by those statement of yours? 

“Shane and Lori had sex numerous times after the government bombed Atlanta.” You forced out, eyes trained on the people of your group as they moved about under a shade of the large tree where the RV and other vehicles are parked, “At first, I knew that it was to comfort themselves in the loss of you, but as days went by, Officer Walsh had started looking at your wife with different intentions.” 

Rick felt his heart plummeting to his stomach the more words you utter out, and as if it wasn't enough, you told him more. 

“Shane is in love with Lori, and he sees you as an obstacle between their love.” You dropped the bomb on the sheriff, eyes flickering to look at him straight in the eyes, “Now, once again, it's not my place to say this, but the way she suddenly hauled herself away while T-Dog was cooking meat the other evening, the sudden disappearances early in the morning, the uncharacteristic exhaustion, and the intense emotional spikes.. Those aren't typical behavioral stress indicators.” 

“What are you trying to say?” Rick gruffed out, his head swimming with incomprehensible thoughts as he continued to listen to you. 

“Looking at the pattern these past couple of weeks, all the signs pointed to one thing, Grimes.” You sighed, facing your body to him to show the utmost sincerity you could muster without coming off as insensitive, “That's not just stress talking, and if I have to look at this pattern clinically, I would say she's looking at a high probability of early pregnancy.” 

The sheriff's world went still and the air got knocked out of his lungs upon hearing the news. Pregnancy? Lori and Shane? His best friend’s baby..?

“I owe you an apology for how painful this must be, but we've worked side by side in the past. I cannot let you walk into a blindspot. I simply couldn't. I told you this as an acquaintance who cares about your well-being.” You murmured, eyes softening as you took a step closer to him, “Do not react impulsively.” 

Rick doesn't know what to say. He could just stand there and stare back at you. You, a person who showed no emotions when you were doing your job, is showing sympathy. You're showing that you care about him, even if it was just as an acquaintance. 

It hurts to know that he found out the news of his wife's pregnancy from someone else, but the thought of finding out about it through you eased his nerves a little. 

He inhaled sharply, eyes stinging with tears. “What am I going to do about this information? How am I supposed to look at them without thinking about what they did behind my back? No, this must have happened while I was back at the hospital, right? Back when all of us are still at the Quarry?” 

“Affirmative.” You mumbled, eyebrows furrowing as understanding seeped through Rick's face. 

“It's fine.” He exhaled softly, but the tears that spilled from his eyes told you otherwise, “Yeah.. It's fine. It happened back then, because they presumed I was dead. It happened because Lori thought her husband was dead in that hospital. They didn't know.” 

Understanding. It's one of the most selfless things a human could do even though they were hurting. Rick is showing signs of understanding the circumstances of his wife and best friend. You have witnessed victims react differently at the news of their partner's infidelity, and more often than not, the reaction they would show is relatively known as anger. 

Anger is the easiest emotion to feel when a person is confused, hurt, or going through something traumatizing. Anger.. Anger is there to protect sadness. 

Rick is going through a lot, and his stress level must be high up in the sky, but he showed no signs of breaking apart. Instead, he understood why Lori and Shane did what they had done. He chose to be understanding and open-minded of their circumstances. He’s upset, that much is obvious, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mad. 

From that alone, you knew that he’s a selfless being. 

“You're truly kind.” You uttered, hand reaching out to tug him on the arm and pulled him down to your height. 

You wrapped your arms around the sheriff and hugged him tightly. He didn't fight back the comfort you're offering and slowly circled his own arms around your waist. He buried his face on your hair. It's a temporary reprieve from the pain and betrayal he's feeling at the moment, but he couldn't be more thankful for you for being by his side. 

Rick never let his admiration of you die down after that little moment you had with him. He had seen you walk around the farm and watched you linger around the camp. 

For some odd reason, you had grown closer to Hershel and Dale. Both old men seemed fond of you despite the lack of expressions and commentary from you most of the time. More often than not, they are seen talking softly and animatedly while you nod your head along to what they were saying. 

It's a comical sight, one that had the Greene family and the group turning your way whenever the old men came seeking your presence. 

When Daryl came back all muddled up from his search for Sophia, then a second after got shot in the head, it was you who convinced Hershel to let the archer stay in the house for a couple of days. Daryl had cussed you out and told you to mind your business, which you did, but not without expressing to him that the group is incredibly grateful for what he did. 

You had passed by Carol that night, and the woman pressed a kiss on your cheek to show how thankful she was for what you're doing. You had grown tense, but didn't push her away. 

You had always had the air of mystery around you. You were not the type to speak unless something is deeply bothering you, but all of them could tell that you have opened up, albeit a little, to Dale and Hershel. Heck, they have seen you engaging in a conversation with both old men. 

So, when Dale died after trying to convince everyone that Randall shouldn't be killed like some rabid animal, you have become more closed off than you already were. 

You had always carried an air of indifference around you, and you carried it from the Quarry until all of you were forced to be on the road after the farm burned down to the ground. You submit yourself under Rick, letting him lead all of you in circles throughout winter. 

He could tell that you weren't fond of his decisions, of how he does things, of how he was becoming irrational and erratic— he was well aware. You never called him out for it though. 

One evening in winter, when things were a little more peaceful than the others, when you, Rick, and Daryl are about to change shifts for the night, Rick couldn't help himself and asked about your opinion, about your say in how he runs things. 

He could remember you turning in your heels and staring at him. You looked at him from head to toe, the same scrutinizing gaze flickering in your eyes. 

“You're doing your best, Grimes.” You voiced out, a puff of smoke curling in front of your chapped lips, “You're always doing your best. My input in how you do things.. It's highly insignificant. If I was truly put off with your decisions thus far, I would have stepped in and said my sentiments.” 

“But ya haven't.” Daryl grunted, cocking the string of his crossbow into the nook. 

“Precisely. I haven't.” You seconded the archer's statement, the corner of your eyes crinkling as you flashed him a cold, tight-lipped smile. “Didn’t you say democracy is not a thing for this group three months ago? Why bother asking for my opinion now?” 

“Just wondering.” Rick muttered, gaze darting away from your observant eyes. 

You had always been observant and always quiet. Since Dale died, you had stopped speaking to anyone, never got close to anyone, never let anyone know what you're thinking unless prodded out of you. Hershel could ask you simple questions, not caring if your response came out curt and short, but it was just mostly him who could bring out something from you.

Carol, Maggie, and Beth, on the other hand, tried. They talked to you, gave you food, curled into the corner where you always stationed yourself in every camp the group had stopped at for a few days. They tried everything. 

The people in the group have told them a thing or two about themselves after they went from house to house— mostly about things before dead had walked with the living among the surface. They revealed what they were doing before the apocalypse. They told everyone their jobs, their hobbies, what they wanted to be before the shit hit the fan. 

They had peeled a part of themselves and bare it to everyone, but you.. You never did. 

You never told them that you were previously working as an FBI agent. You never told anyone what you have done, what you have seen, where you went to work, where you came from— you revealed none to all of them. 

Only Rick knows what your occupation was, but just like others, he doesn’t know anything other than that. 

It's unfair. 

You have never smiled at them like that— eyes crinkled, corner of lips quirked up, and cheeks all puffed up because you're smiling so wide. 

You have never let out those heartfelt and boisterous laughs, the kind that would turn into a high-pitch squeal at how much you're laughing, the kind of laugh that would make your shoulders shake and force a hand down to your stomach to hold it. 

You have been with them for months, years even. Yet, they have never seen those gestures pointed at them as easily as you do so with that alexandria man. 

All of you arrived just a couple of weeks ago, and that man was someone that Aaron had introduced to them as one of the people that goes out on runs. He was friendly and polite at best, making them figure out that he wasn't all that aboard on letting rugged people like them into the community, however, the moment you stepped out from the back of the group, the man's expression changed drastically. 

The others could remember how your face brightened up upon seeing him. You ran up to him and he did the same. The two of you met in the middle, with him catching you in his arms. The two of you laughed, cried, and whispered words to each other that no one else could hear. 

You were crying and laughing so much that the words that somehow stumbled out of your mouth were incomprehensible. They didn't know what happened after that, and just remembered that all of a sudden, the man whisked you away from them— telling Deanna that he will bring you to be interrogated later on. 

Daryl and Michonne tried to fight back, to lash out to come get you back, but Aaron assured them that the man, whose name they didn't bother to remember, will take care of you. 

Rick and the others barely fit in, even after a week, but here you are, already humming and laughing along with the man living across the street— the same man whom you laughed and hugged like he was somebody important. 

You woke up early in the morning for what? To walk across and flirt with them openly? To giggle and flutter those beautiful eyelashes towards his way? 

“Look at her.” Michonne huffed, eyes squinted under the scorching sun, “All smiles and laughs.” 

The alexandria man said something that made you lean forward and pinch his cheek, making him jut his bottom lip out in a dramatic manner. It earned a roll of eyes from you, which was quickly accompanied by the same loving smile they have been seeing on your lips ever since all of you arrived in the community. 

“And she's smilin’ like he hung the moon.” Came a gruff hiss from the archer sitting on the porch's step. 

“I can't believe she became comfortable real fast.” Rick muttered, eyes flickering away from you and the man across the street in hopes of wiping the image off from his mind, “Didn't even tell me clearly where she was going this morning.” 

“She told me.” Maggie quipped, making everyone on the porch turn to look at her, but she was looking directly at Rick, a knowing grin plastered on her face, “She tried to tell you, too, by the way, but you seemed to be focused more on what she was wearing rather than to what she was saying.”

Daryl and Michonne raised an eyebrow at the sheriff, both of them looking unimpressed. 

“She didn't tell me nothing.” Rick insisted, shooting the archer and the samurai a pointed look, “If she did, I would have known, and I wasn't looking at her dress—”

“It's a sundress.” Maggie pointed out, jutting a finger towards your way, “It's the dress that makes men drool.” 

“I’m not a man.” Michonne uttered, earning a giggle from Maggie, which she took as something offensive, “What? I really am no man.” 

“Yes, but you like her.” Maggie sang softly, grinning. 

It was no secret that Rick, Daryl, and Michonne harbor some kind of romantic feelings towards you. You have always been their anchor in everything. The three of them weren't slick with their feelings, but somehow, you still managed to miss the signs of them liking you. 

Carol and Maggie pointed it out on some occasions— at how obvious they were regarding their feelings, but they always denied it. 

Why would they listen to the teasing anyway? It's not like you have any interest in entering a relationship with any of them. You never showed that you care about things like that. You never did. 

You're always bound and about on your feet when someone tries to flirt with you back at the prison. You always try to slither away from any kind of conversation pertaining to relations. You always try to look busy when someone tries to ask you questions about what kind of person you want as your partner. You never let yourself linger around anyone longer than necessary. 

Rick and others tried to get you to open up, but damn, it was hard. They spent months with you on the road. They spent through thick and thin with you. Hell, all of you even almost got yourselves cut open by cannibals! Aren't those situations enough to have you open up to them? 

Daryl, Rick, and Michonne brooded over their thoughts. The three of them rested themselves on the porch, all the while shooting glares towards the man you're talking to. 

“Come on, y'all.” Carol cooed, stepping out of the door, “Brooding in jealousy won't make the woman drop her necklace! You have to do something to woo her! If not, why not just tell her how you feel?” 

“As if.” Michonne sighed, dropping her weight down beside Daryl who agreed with her statement by letting out a scoff. 

“Oh, come on, what gives?” Maggie groaned, walking over to the railing to lean her weight against it, her eyes flickering over to you and the man who is now wrapping his arms around you, “Look, he got himself another hug from her. Keep this up and someone else will get y'all woman.” 

“Ain't mine.” Daryl grunted, cleaning his fingers with his dirty rug. “Ain't nobody else's.” 

“Right..” Maggie trailed off, rolling her eyes. 

“Seriously, keep this up and she'll be taken away.” Carol huffed out, placing both of her hands on her hips to send all three people a disappointed look, “I'd rather watch her be loved by the people I know and love than have to watch her hand get taken away by someone we barely know.” 

Rick pursed his lips and stared at Carol. The woman is right. You may never be type to show interest in that kind of thing, but there's no telling that you might not be wooed by any of them if they were to try. 

“Alright, so may the best man win?” Rick forced out, earning him looks from Michonne and Daryl. 

“The hell does that mean?” The archer gruffed out, glaring. 

“It means, it's time for us to grow two balls and sweep her off her feet. Like some kind of prince charming.” Rick mumbled, doing wild gestures with his hands as he pointed at you and the man who are now waving you goodbye as you cross the street. 

“Act natural.” Carol tutted to everyone, plastering the same old loving smile on her lips as she watch you approach. 

Daryl's head snapped forward, his eyes flickering to your form as you ran across, a hand over your forehead to shield your eyes from the sunlight. The hem of your sundress fluttered against the soft breeze, the (color) cotton complementing your features well. 

You look stunning. Incredibly so. 

The three of them were busy glaring at the man that they completely failed to acknowledge how much of a beauty you are at the moment. God, one look at you and you knocked the air out of their lungs. 

“What are you all doing out here?” You asked, dropping your hand down that you were using to shield your eyes to your side before raising an eyebrow at them. 

“Observing.” Michonne answered a little too quickly. 

“Inspecting.” Rick backed her up just as quickly, his hand falling to the leather belt on his pants. 

Daryl grunted, not offering any kind of excuse. 

Carol and Maggie shared a glance, both of them looking amused and entertained at what's happening. They are kind though, so they snatched your attention away from the three fools in love. 

“I made bread.” Carol informed you, smiling, “Come on up and eat with us, honey.” 

You nodded your head as a response to her invitation, but kept your eyes glued to Rick, silently asking him what's up with everyone, but he gave you no answer and simply shrugged his shoulders. Your confusion showed up in your face, pulling a couple of smiles from them. 

If you're not smiling at them, which is rare for you to smile at any of them, then you would either show confusion, irritation, and boredom. Most of the time, it's the latter. 

When they showed no signs of answering your questions, you proceeded to walk past Michonne and Daryl, the hem of your sundress brushing past their shoulders and ears. The sensation of the fabric against their skin caused a shiver run down Michonne's and Daryl's spine, their body going taut with surprise. 

Damn, not only did you look stunning, but you also smelled extremely good. Just how much of this community brought the domesticity out of you? 

“What did you make?” You asked Carol, eyes darting past her as she led you back inside the house all of you have been staying at for now. 

“Brownies.” Carol hummed, sliding behind the kitchen counter to bring out the said treats. 

“Seriously?” You croaked, disbelief lacing your voice. 

“Seriously.” Glenn commented from his spot on the couch, holding one brownie in his hand with his mouth full of brownie bite, “This is so good, Carol. I didn't know that you could make something as amazing as this.” 

“Agreed.” Maggie giggled, slotting herself beside her husband. 

“Where’d you get the ingredients?” You croaked, snatching one brownie from Carol's platter as you settled yourself by the armrest beside Maggie, “By the way, our lovely neighbor told me that some of us can crash into his house. He has three vacant bedrooms that we can use if ever.” 

You took a bite from the brownie, and almost immediately, a moan escaped your lips. 

“Oh, shit, this is amazing.” You praised the baker, shaking slightly at how good the brownie was, “You're the best, Carol. Hold on though, I'll have to make him taste this and ask about his opinion.” 

Glenn, Maggie, and Carol blinked when you sprung up in your seat, your legs carrying you out of the house and across the street. 

“Where are ya goin’?” Daryl croaked as you ran past them, but didn't receive an answer. 

The three of them, along with Glenn, Maggie, and Carol, watched you rush to the front door. You knocked on the door three times, the sound reaching their ears even though they're literally across the street. 

The door swung open and the man greeted you, but it looked like he barely forced a word out because you shoved the brownie in his mouth. 

“Oh, god.” Carol snorted, shaking her head, “She didn't give him a chance.” 

“Just who's that dude?” Glenn voiced out, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched you laugh at the man, who's now choking on the brownie and hunched over the doorway, through the house’s window, “Why is she laughing like that? She never laughs with us like that. Did she laugh like that with us? I can't remember her laughing that loud with us—” 

“We get it, Glenn.” Michonne grumbled, shooting him a glare from her spot on the porch. 

“Yeah, they're already suffering enough as is.” Carol teased, her own lips pulled into a smile, “I mean, look at her. She's glowing and she's laughing. She laughed with us before, but never that loud and boisterous. Can you imagine? Someone else made her laugh like that.” 

“Can you not?” Rick huffed, glancing at the teasing woman over his shoulder. 

“Oh, I certainly can.” Carol sang, giggling. 

All of them turned to Carol, their eyes squinted into glares. Carol couldn't stop herself from laughing loudly at the sight, turning in her heels and walking further inside the house. 

The reason why she's extremely delighted upon seeing their suffering? It's because she knows who that man is to you. He's your cousin, one that you have grown up with and got separated from when the shit hit the fan, but they don't have to know that. 

You have opened up to her about it back at the prison. You told her about the people you had in your life before you stumbled on their group at the Quarry. 

You told her a lot of things about yourself, and she felt so damn proud to be the only one to know such things about you, because of all the people to open up to, you chose her. You have opened up to her like how Daryl did, or maybe more open than Daryl did. 

When she saw you running up to that man, at how relieved you were, she knew right then and there who he was. You confirmed her suspicion of the man when you ran down the street just now, just to shove the brownie in his mouth. 

One of the things that you told her about the said cousin is that he absolutely goes crazy for chocolates, and guess what? The brownie has a few chocolate chips in them. 

She grinned, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. It's such a relief that you haven't told the others that the man across the street is your cousin. She has to use him to her advantage, because if the three people who are pining for you don't plan to do anything soon, someone will actually take you away.  

She can't have that, can she? 

So, all she could do right now is to make them as jealous as possible. She refuses to miss the chance to make them pull moves to make you theirs after all. 

“Are all the sheriffs in this town off to yeehaw their way into solving these goddamn cases of murders?”

The tone was laced with venom, lips pulled taut into a scowl. 

Those words were the first thing you had uttered at Rick's main direction when you and your team first barged into their little station. 

Your unit flew from Florida all the way to King County in Georgia to help them solve the crimes that had been committed by an aggressive murderer who sexually assaulted his victims. 

It was a terrifying case, one that couldn't be stomachened by the sheriffs in King County. They were left with no choice, but to ask the FBI for help. They needed people who could actually give them a hand to arrest the murderer that played with their minds for days. 

They waited for merely two hours before a response came, and a unit was sent as an aid. 

Rick was in charge of picking your unit up from the international airport in Atlanta, then he drove all five of you— him, you and your team— back to King County. It was a long ride, almost half a day, but no one really spoke to him. He tried to be as friendly as he could, but you were focused more on the files in your lap to pay him any mind. 

You weren't on clock, but you were doing work. While in the car with him and your team, you were communicating with them about the ongoing investigation.  

“They call him the tommy killer.” One of the unit member stated, flicking a page off his lap as he read the next page, “6 women raped and murdered in their homes in the last 3 weeks. In and out. With no camera footage in any of the crime scenes.” 

“6 in 3 weeks?” Another member muttered, his own hands tapping away on his laptop. 

“That's a short fuse.” You hummed, eyes flickering from words to words, reading the whole paragraph of report regarding King County's geographical features, “Seems like our little tommy is becoming erratic.” 

“And the timeframe is getting shorter.” The man sitting on the left car door huffed out, fingers tightening around the folder's flap, “The first 2 women were 8 days apart, then the next 4 in just 2 weeks.” 

“Mmn, rapid escalation.” You murmured, flipping a page off to go to the other paper containing crucial information, “Do you think he's regressing to a psychopathic frenzy?” 

“Nah, he's too controlled for that.” The man tapping away on the laptop countered. 

He had remembered a whole lot of you saying a lot of terms that he doesn't usually hear from other people in his quaint little town. Back then, it was obvious that you were too smart for your own good— too good, too witty, too snarky. You were the definition of a beast in disguise. 

You have beauty and brains, shorter than average women and maybe on a meatier side, but beautiful nonetheless. 

He remembered those days when you led him and Shane Walsh, his best friend, who were in charge of lending your unit a hand through the crime scene. You had stopped them right outside of the house to make them wear gloves. Those fucking medical gloves. 

“Can't have you contaminating the crime scene. Wear that or get the fuck out.” You growled, shooting both of them a glare. 

Those were the words that stuck with him even after all of you caught the tommy killer. Turns out, it was a psychopath who relished on his victims incapability to fight back after he caught them by surprise. He was blending in with the town's mechanics. He was one of the people in charge of replacing dead cameras and wirings. 

He had watched you work. You were meticulous, seamless, and merciless in your hunt. All of you barely stayed at the station for a week and yet, your unit solved the case and arrested the murderer. 

It was exhilarating to work alongside you. You showed him no mercy and kept barking out orders, telling him what to do and to not what to do. He remembered how much of a demanding woman you were, but thinking back, that characteristic of yours is what deemed you worthy of a woman your caliber.

You didn't stay long at King County after solving the case. When the murderer was arrested, you and your team immediately drove back to Atlanta. 

Before you left, you had stopped beside him and waited for your team to walk inside the airport. He was confused at first, but then, you said something to him that made him realize he wasn't doing a good job concealing his marriage problems during work hours. 

“In law enforcement, just like in physics, failing to control your variables leads to a catastrophic breakdown, and marriage is no exception. It is a tough dynamic to balance.” 

He had made a mistake out there.

You had that look in your face that told him that you had seen through him. You were looking at him the same way that you used to look for signs left by the murderer back at the crime scenes. You were judging him, gaze locked onto his face, but it looked like that you were still understanding of his circumstances. 

The morning they were about to pin down the suspect, he had an argument with Lori again. He didn't know what it was about, but he was extremely tired and on edge. There was a killer on the loose and is still looking for more women to be his next victim. 

He was scared that his wife might be next. He tried to make Lori understand— or maybe he didn't, he couldn't remember, but he went to work that morning with his head down on the water. 

His head was clouded with a lot of thoughts about what's happening in his own home that he failed to follow your orders. You specifically told him to block out the exit, to guard it, to make sure no one comes out. Unfortunately, he was lost in his thoughts. 

If it weren't for Shane, the murderer would have got away from their noses. 

“Out here, allowing domestic noise to bleed into active duty compromises the whole perimeter and operation. You are sharp, Deputy Grimes, I'll give you that.” You stated bluntly, face blank of emotion as you turned to stare up at him, “But your people need you to focus. Process what you've done wrong in this case, lock it down in your mind, make it the main reason why you need to focus on your objective, and keep your head up.” 

Not only did you give him a warning, you also uttered praise. To receive such praise from an FBI special agent is a feat in itself. He was honored to hear such words from you. 

He has admired you since. He had looked out for the cases that you have solved with your team— every case that consisted of violent murders, aggressive arsonists, young psychopaths, down to the cases that took you weeks to close because you genuinely didn't have any clues about the suspect’s identities. 

Shane had joked about his new interest in an FBI agent that will never come down to their quaint town ever again.  

“You need to get over your little crush, man.” Shane teased him, a boyish grin plastered on his face, “That chick's off limits. She won't fly up here again, y'know? She's too well off in Paris or something—” 

“Florida.” Rick grumbled, cutting Shane off, “Her team's stationed in Florida.”

He could remember the sarcastic roll of his best friend's eyes when he corrected him. The words that Shane uttered that day were the words that echoed in the back of his head when he got shot. Those were the words that resurfaced when he was rescued by an asian man back in Atlanta. 

Those exact words were what screamed at him when he saw you on the roof of the department store, pressing a foot down on a redneck's throat. 

“Stay still, Dixon. You're high, you've got a gun, and you're twice my size, but my body weight is exactly where it needs to be. You're completely out of your head right now, and I am not letting you fire a loaded piece any longer and potentially get us all killed. All I need from you now is to let go of the weapon, then I'll let you breathe.” 

You have this distinct way of speaking that sticks to anyone's mind longer than intended. 

You were direct, never beating around the bush, and quite blunt. You deliver your words with no ounce of lies in them, and it doesn't matter if you're coaxing someone out of their delirium, or calming someone's temper down, because whatever it is, it will stick with them in the long run. 

Heck, your words stuck with him for longer than he would like to admit. 

Unfortunately, after Merle Dixon had let go of the gun, you released him. All of them believed that you managed to calm him down, but the moment he stood up, he pushed you off him and lunged for Theodore Douglas. Rick had to rush forward and handcuff him to the roof, making you finally look at him. 

You were shocked, to say the least, because you weren't expecting him to be alive. The reunion was cut off short, however, when you turned away from him to start formulating a plan to get out of the city. 

The plan was successful, but when all of you left the department store, you were kicking and screaming for them to let go of you— to leave you there with Merle if need be. You were hissing and growling at them to go back. You were struggling against them so much that Morales and T-Dog had to tie you up just to make you stop. 

“Dixon's still there, morons!” 

You continued to yell at them, because apparently, Merle Dixon wasn't that much of a dick towards you. He's still the same asshole, always running his mouth off, but he wasn't that harsh on you. He would curse you out, sure, but he never went below the belt. 

The redneck was nice, a word that doesn't describe him, but can be used if it's related to you, when it comes to you. 

You were mad at Rick and T-Dog for leaving the older Dixon on the roof, and you even went as far as organizing a run to go back for him the very next day. 

You and Shane got into an argument because of that, saying that Merle Dixon is someone who would leave you out in the wild and wouldn't give you a glass of water if you're dying of thirst, but Rick quickly broke off the fight and backed you up, because he was partially at fault for leaving the man cuffed on the rooftop. 

He could tell that leaving Merle Dixon took a hit on you. You didn't talk to him for a long while after all of you found a cut off hand on the roof. You didn't look at him when tried to reason with you. You two aren't close in the first place, but he felt like he needed to make it up with you. 

Still, you ignored him, even when all of you traveled down the road to go to CDC, where you made it clear to everyone that you were acquainted with Dr. Jenner— the only scientist left in the compound. 

He remembered vividly the look of recognition Jenner had sent your way when all of you arrived. You must have sensed it, too, because after the doctor took blood samples from everyone, you have asked him to talk in private. He led you out of the cafeteria where the group had their shares of stories about each other, and drank themselves into drunken mess. 

The two of you shared a good amount of time away from the group, talking about something neither of you revealed. Jenner told Rick that everyone is infected— that whatever's causing people to turn, it's inside them. When he revealed this to you later on, you didn't look surprised.  

You weren't still talking to him. You made sure to keep your distance from him. You went as far as riding with Daryl on Merle's bike, because staying in the RV where T-Dog is something you can't stomach. 

He wondered why— not just him, but everyone else, too—  the abandonment of Merle Dixon would ignite such passionate anger from you. You were never a fan of human interactions as much as they could tell. Hell, you couldn't even be bothered by starting a conversation with the younger Dixon, whom you've been riding with for the past couple of days. 

They wondered how someone like you could be so stuck up on someone like Merle Dixon. 

“You think she's hooking up with Merle?” Andrea asked one time after they stopped beside the road to camp out for the night, earning her scoffs and looks of disagreement from others. 

You were inside the RV, doing god knows what, but Daryl strayed closed to the fire. He heard the question, and was about to blow a fuse, when Dale responded. 

“Maybe she's got more humanity in her than it is with all of us combined.” 

Next.