[ lvi. carried away with the mix ]

october 14th, 2012

➸➸➸

ASTRID AWOKE TO A caress of fingertips tracing a delicate path along her spine. A thrill shivered through her as she opened her eyes to slits, revealing the dawning sun against a gray sky through her bedroom window. Emitting a soft groan, she buried her face back into her pillow, only to be met with a soft, soothing chuckle from behind her.

"Mornin'," Daryl said, his lips brushing her ear.

Astrid turned slowly in his arms, their bodies pressed together, bare legs still entwined. She gazed into his blue eyes, still clouded with sleep. "What time is it?"

"Almost six," He replied.

Another quiet moan escaped Astrid as she wiped her eyes. "We only got two hours of sleep."

Daryl rested his head against hers. "I didn't say we had to get up yet."

"Good," Astrid grumbled. She ducked her chin and nestled her head against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. It was her favorite sound in the world and would be capable of lulling her back to sleep in seconds. "Because Baby and Momma aren't ready for that commitment yet. Let's just wait until he's out to start those early morning wake-up calls."

She felt her hunter grin mischievously against her hair. "So you think it's a boy, too?"

"I never said that," Astrid hummed. She remained smug as she rolled and turned away from him once more. "Now go back to bed . . . But keep rubbing my back. It feels good."

Daryl growled under his breath, unleashing words that sent Astrid's toes curling. Yet moments later, his hands, warm against her cool skin, began to obediently scratch her back. Eventually, his fingers curled to her front and ventured lower, and as he pulled the blankets up to her chin, he wrapped his arm entirely around Astrid's waist, securing her to his chest. His lips found the curve of her neck, tracing gentle patterns along her throat with his teeth.

But just as she was on the brink of succumbing to sleep—and bliss—the sound of a gun being cocked reverberated through the wall.

"What the hell are you doing in our house?"

A sudden rush of pounding feet outside their bedroom made Daryl leap out of bed first. With one hand, he swiftly put on his shoes and shirt, while the other reached for his gun. Astrid quickly followed, slipping combat boots over her jeans and pulling her pistol from the bedside table. Checking the ammo on the move, she darted towards the door just as Daryl flung it open, revealing Carl holding a gun to a grown man's head.

The stranger sported a long leather trench coat, and his shoulder-length brunette hair was hidden beneath a woolen beanie. A full beard prickled along the lower half of his narrow face, but it was his mesmerizing aqua eyes that captivated Astrid. The stranger smiled widely at her. "Hi. I'm Jesus."

Astrid's eyes widened. She was astonished still that someone willingly chose to go by the nickname 'Jesus'. Though looking at him now, she supposed she recognized a resemblance. So, she offered a respectful nod in return.

Jesus's gaze shifted to Daryl next, his gesture accompanied by a small smirk. "Nice seeing you again."

Daryl opened his mouth to retort, to snap, but before he could, two doors at the end of the hallway swung open. Bailey entered first, frowning while wiping sleep from her eyes. Rick and Michonne followed, and Astrid had to suppress a fresh snort of surprise.

Rick was shirtless. Michonne's hair was disheveled from its usual style. And all the while both were struggling to button up their jeans.

It was evident how they had spent their night.

"Is everyone okay?" A sudden voice echoed from below, pulling Astrid's attention. She peered over the edge of the banister to see Glenn, Maggie, and Abraham, guns drawn, positioned at the start of the stairs.

"It's okay," Michonne confirmed breathlessly.

Holy shit, Astrid started. Had they been in the middle—

Rick swallowed audibly, awkwardly avoiding his teenage son's probing stare. "You said we should talk," He addressed, eyes fixed solely on Jesus. "So, let's talk."

Michonne disappeared back into the bedroom she and Rick appeared to be sharing now, returning moments later with a button-up shirt for him. Rick hastily pulled it on, before seizing Jesus by the back of his jacket and ripping him to his feet. Without a word, they descended the stairs, closely followed by Daryl and Michonne, leaving Astrid alone in the upper hallway with Carl and Bailey.

Astrid huffed at the children, rolling her eyes. "Well, come on, you two," She said. "It's not like you both wouldn't eavesdrop anyway."

The snickers of both children filled Astrid's ears as she hurried down the staircase and into the kitchen, where all had begun to gather around the long dining room table. Astrid took a seat beside Rick, with Daryl standing behind her, hands automatically resting on the back of her chair. Bailey hopped into her lap, and Astrid secured her with loose arms. Maggie and Glenn soon settled on Astrid's opposite side. Meanwhile, from the corner of her eye, Astrid noticed Carl now eyeing Michonne, who squirmed under his watchful gaze. The young boy smirked, and Astrid coughed loudly to suppress another snort of her own.

At least they were receiving his blessing.

Moments later, however, the lighthearted atmosphere all but dissipated as Rick placed his revolver on the table, its barrel pointed at Jesus. "How'd you get out?" He demanded.

Jesus folded his hands on the tabletop beside the weapon. "One guard can't cover two exits or third-floor windows," He explained. "Knots untie, locks get picked. Entropy comes from order, right?"

"Right," Daryl clipped, his grip on the back of Astrid's chair tightening, knuckles pressing into her shoulders.

Jesus faced the hunter's death glare head-on. He leaned back in his own chair, unflinching, and confessed with a sigh, "I checked out your arsenal. I haven't seen anything like that in a long time. You're well-equipped, but your provisions are low. Very low for the amount of people you have. Fifty-four heads, right?"

"More than that," Astrid corrected. All eyes turned to the Dixon woman, and Maggie, in turn, stiffened beside her. Two expectant mothers. Glenn instinctively leaned closer to his wife, as if to shield her, while Bailey slipped her small hands into Astrid's and squeezed them tightly.

Jesus's intense stare shifted toward Astrid, assessing her fully. And even though Bailey covered her front, Astrid sensed Jesus's focus was primarily on her stomach. Then, his gaze returned to her guarded face, and he smiled again. Openly. And promptly changed the subject. "Well," He said, his eyes wandering towards the kitchen. "I appreciate the cookie. My compliments to the chef."

Astrid distastefully eyed the crumbs in Jesus' beard at the same time her husband snarled, "She's not here." She shuddered, inwardly aware of just how fortunate Jesus truly was to avoid encountering the fierce Peletier woman.

"Look, we got off to a bad start," Jesus admitted softly, directing his words to Daryl. "But we're on the same side—the living side. You and Rick had every reason to leave me out there, but you didn't." After a cautious breath, he continued, "I'm from a place much like this one. Part of my job is searching out other settlements to trade with. I took your truck because my community needs things, and both of you looked like trouble. I was wrong. You're good people, and this is a good place. I believe our communities may be in a position to help each other."

Glenn, with a hint of skepticism, inquired, "Do you have food?"

"We've started raising livestock," Jesus explained. "We scavenge, we grow. Everything from tomatoes to sorghum."

Rick, still studying the stranger, tilted his head. "Tell us why we should believe you."

"I'll show you. If we take a car, I can take you back home in a day, and you can see for yourselves who we are and what we have to offer."

"Wait." Maggie leaned forward in her seat, both elbows firmly planted on the table. Her eyes narrowed with interest. "You said you were looking for more settlements. Does that mean you're already trading with other groups?"

Astrid's eyes widened. Then they narrowed as she still struggled to comprehend the enormity of the implications. Other communities like the Alexandria Safe Zone? How many were out there? How far did their reach extend? Was the world truly not as small as they had believed?

Daryl placed his hands heavily on Astrid's shoulders, and Bailey continued squeezing her hands tightly in anticipation. The group—that tiny group from Georgia, from the start—remained silent, holding their breath as if a mere stranger's answer held the power to reshape their world forever.

And perhaps, it did.

Jesus reclined in his chair once more, a maniacal grin spreading across his lips. "Your world's about to get a whole lot bigger."

➸➸➸

IN THE WAKE OF Jesus's compelling oratory on the uncharted territories of the new world, a momentous decision was made. A select few would follow Jesus to his community—the Hilltop Colony. With the prospect of meeting its leader, Gregory, and the ambition to negotiate a trade that could replenish the Alexandria Safe Zone with much-needed supplies, Rick quickly set this expedition in motion.

Naturally, Astrid was one of the first to volunteer. As the late morning sun cast its golden glow, she now stood in the yard outside her home, clad in a snug jacket, leather combat boots nearly up to her knees, and her chestnut locks intricately braided down her back.

The mode of transport to Hilltop would be the RV salvaged from beyond Alexandria's walls. The windshield, shattered by Astrid's once desperate bullet when she believed Rick and she were cornered, had been skillfully restored by Abraham.

"Are you sure she should be going?"

Astrid nearly groaned.

Her husband, the perpetual skeptic, voiced his concerns loudly. Too loudly, if he was trying to avoid his wife's wrath. Because as Astrid stepped off the grass to lean against the side of the RV, she overheard his repeated doubts easily from where he currently conversed with Denise.

"Well," the young doctor-in-training started, "technically, she shouldn't. But we both know that she's either going to sneak onto that RV—or walk onto it willingly. I'd just stick with the latter if I were you. Pick your battles."

"You're supposed to be her doctor. You have a say in whether she stays or not."

"She's actually her own doctor."

Astrid became fed up quickly. She blamed it on the hormones. Drumming her palm against the RV's hood, she huffed, "Could you both not talk about me like I'm not here?"

Denise halted the conversation immediately. Then, she hastily retreated, leaving Daryl alone on the sidewalk to roll his eyes dismissively. Bold move, Astrid nearly snarled. "I don't think you should be goin'," He reiterated.

"Maggie's going. Glenn has no problem with it."

"Well, you ain't Maggie. And I sure as hell ain't Glenn."

Astrid's expression soured. "Jesus promised we wouldn't be in danger, and I believe him, despite the many reasons not to. This is our chance to find food and connect with another community like ours. I can't stay behind these walls forever. I can't forget what the world's like." She took a deep breath. "And I don't want to be separated from you again."

Daryl crossed over to her, but rather than invade Astrid's space, he copied her stance, leaning beside her. "If you stay here, then I know you're safe."

Shaking her head, Astrid whispered, "You don't know that. This place will never be entirely safe. We've seen it with the walkers, and the Wolves. Daryl, the only place I'll ever feel safe is when I'm with you."

"What about Bailey?" He deflected. Leave it to him to sidestep any hint of her sap.

Astrid licked her lips, her fingertips absently tracing the zipper of her jacket. She shifted her gaze toward the porch, where the young girl in question sat on the railing, her eyes fixed on them. Even from a distance, Astrid was convinced that she sensed they were discussing her.

"Bailey's coming, too," She informed him.

"What?" Daryl demanded. Anger rippled across his unshaven features. "No. That's not happening."

"She wants to come."

"Doesn't mean you have to say yes. She's twelve, for God's sake. We could be drivin' into a trap. You want to risk puttin' her in danger like that?"

Astrid met his glare evenly, her stern voice lowering to avoid the ears of onlookers. "She doesn't want to lose us again," She explained. "She's spent too many nights alone, wondering why we keep leaving her. I won't put her through that anymore. If she's staying, then you tell her because I won't do it."

Daryl's expression softened, the harsh lines on his face easing into a moment of understanding. He glanced toward the porch where Bailey still sat, and a small sigh escaped him. "If we let her come—put her in a situation like this when she doesn't have to be—jus' so that we aren't hurtin' her . . . what the hell does that make us?" He asked.

Astrid could see the conflict in his eyes. Placing her hand on Daryl's forearm, she squeezed it tightly. "It makes us parents," She murmured.

Daryl pinched the bridge of his nose. "This shit's hard," He grumbled.

"No one ever said it was easy," She reminded him.

After a heavy pause, Daryl reluctantly nodded his agreement. He looked carefully at her again. "You sure about this?"

"No," Astrid admitted. "But I know we're safest when we're together—regardless of where we physically find ourselves in the end."

Surprisingly, Daryl cracked a small smile and reached up to brush away a stray hair that had escaped her braid. His hand fell to rest on her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, pressing her lips softly against his palm. A distant light appeared to spark within his bright blue eyes again, and he slowly smirked. "Remember when I told you I didn't sign up for your stubborn shit back at Deanna's?"

Cocking her head slyly, she nodded, recalling the conversation from months before. "What about it?"

"I still haven't signed up."

Astrid scoffed and rolled her eyes. "For better or for worse, right?"

Without waiting for a response, she turned to leave, but Daryl caught her waist, instantly pulling her back into him.

"I do love you," He whispered in her ear. "For better or for worse."

A quick, almost playful kiss to the side of her face followed, and Astrid grinned cheekily as she pulled free. "You better," She called as she began to walk again, not bothering to look back at the expression on his face. "I'm stuck carrying your child for the next five freaking months."

Daryl's laughter grew louder, and Astrid smiled deeply at the rare sound. Her second favorite in the world.

Soon, thereafter, Rick stepped from the house and cleared his throat, announcing that it was time to leave. Bailey, hidden in their leader's shadow, slung a backpack over her shoulder and bounced over to Astrid's side. One by one, they climbed onto the RV—Rick, Michonne, Abraham, Glenn, Maggie, Daryl, Bailey, Astrid, and none other than Jesus himself.

Rick and Michonne naturally claimed the front seats, while Jesus sat alone at the small kitchen table behind them. Daryl, Bailey, and Astrid squeezed onto one of the narrow couches, with Glenn, Maggie, and Abraham across from them on another. The air slowly grew warm amongst so many bodies, creating a tight but bearable space.

The RV roared to life and was soon leaving the safety of Alexandria behind. At each turn, Jesus continuously gave directions, but Rick chose alternate paths, in search of supposedly safer routes leading to the same destination. Astrid understood the precaution—but also wondered if he ever pushed his worries, his extremes too far. Still, she remained silent.

Seated between Daryl and Bailey, Astrid rested her head on the former's shoulder. He instinctively leaned in, his temple touching hers, and his hand tightly gripped her thigh. Meanwhile, on her other side, Bailey reached into her jacket pocket and revealed a small pastry of sorts.

"What's that?" Astrid wondered.

Bailey unwrapped the foil. "Cake," She answered. "Denise gave it to me before we left."

"That was nice of her."

Daryl leaned forward, eyeing the small sweet. "Looks like dog shit," He remarked.

Bailey rolled her eyes, took a small bite, and retorted, "Tastes good." Breaking off a piece, she offered it to Astrid, "Do you want some? I'm sure the baby would like the taste of chocolate, too."

"Most definitely." Astrid grinned, accepting her small piece. "Thank you."

Daryl frowned. "Don't I get a bite?"

"You said it looks like dog shit," Bailey pointed out, and Astrid burst into laughter at her choice of words. "I'm sure you'd think it tastes the same, too."

Across the way, Glenn and Abraham chuckled at the dispute, too, while Maggie slept peacefully between them. As Bailey and Daryl continued their banter, Astrid's gaze drifted toward the front of the RV. Rick had reached across his seat to place his hand on Michonne's knee—a sweet gesture that brought a smile to the Dixon woman's face. Rick and Michonne's unexpected relationship surprised her, but she could not be happier for them.

Minutes passed before the bickering between father and daughter eventually subsided. It finished with a compromise: the small pastry split in two. After the first bite, even Daryl admitted the food tasted better than it looked, leaving the twelve-year-old with the triumphant final say.

After finishing the cake, Bailey crumpled the empty tin foil into a ball and shoved it back into her pocket. Casting a quick survey of the RV, the young girl's stare eventually settled on Jesus, prompting her to tap Astrid's arm and clear her throat.

"Astrid?" She began softly. "Can I go talk to that man?"

Upon gesturing toward Jesus, Astrid frowned wearily. "Why do you want to talk to him?"

Bailey nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. "He seems lonely," She explained.

Astrid's expression softened at the paradox of such a gentle heart, one that could still so easily turn as cold as stone when needed. Brushing a hand over the young girl's hair, Astrid nodded. "Go on."

Eagerly, Bailey jumped up and walked down the narrow aisle toward the kitchen table where Jesus sat. Sliding into the seat across from him, she beamed at the man. It was impossible for him to ignore such an innocent gesture. Within minutes, Astrid observed that they were engaged in a conversation she was eager to hear yet wise enough to avoid eavesdropping on.

Looking away, Astrid's focus wandered across the RV. Her stare landed on Abraham, whose own stare was locked intensely at Maggie and Glenn. Unnoticed, Maggie still slept soundly, and Glenn stared out the window in a daze, his hand resting lightly atop her baby bump—slightly smaller than Astrid's own.

Abraham seemed to be wrestling with his thoughts. Unable to contain himself any longer, he leaned toward Glenn with a gruff calling. "Hey. Can I ask you a question?"

Glenn turned his attention toward the redheaded former marine. "What is it?"

Daryl and Astrid remained entirely silent, watching the confrontation carefully. The tension of the impending question was too captivating to ignore.

Abraham licked his lips several times, and Astrid noted a hint of red forming on his cheeks. "When you were . . . uh . . . pouring the Bisquick . . . were you trying to make pancakes?"

Upon the realization of where this conversation was heading, a light scoff escaped Daryl beside Astrid, and she leaned into his side, hiding her own amusement in his shoulder. The audacious boundaries Abraham was willing to push always left her astounded, making her question if the man truly had any limits with the things he blurted out into the world.

"Uh . . ." Glenn swallowed. "Yes?"

Astrid was genuinely taken aback by the answer. Yet after a moment's reflection, she figured that if anyone were willing to embark on the journey of parenthood in an apocalypse, it was Glenn and Maggie. The couple would undoubtedly make exceptional parents.

"Really?" Abraham pressed, undeterred by the awkwardness.

Glenn exhaled a cautious breath. "Well, it was something that we've talked about. For a long time," He explained. "Why are you asking?"

"Well, it's just . . . Given the precarious state of affairs on any given Sunday, I am damn near floored that you or anyone else would have the cojones to make a call like that," Abraham remarked. He then turned his attention to both Daryl and Astrid, who both surely now appeared like deer caught in headlights. "What about yourselves?" He prodded, motioning towards her stomach. "Was that pancake a plan, or did you just get a little carried away with the mix?"

Astrid's jaw fell open at his boldness, and Daryl's cheeks reddened as his grip on her thigh tightened involuntarily. Glenn seized the opportunity to smirk, and Astrid had to look at the floor to conceal her embarrassed expression. Nonetheless, despite the unexpected spotlight, Daryl swallowed stiffly and maintained his composure. "No, it wasn't a plan," He finally admitted. "Jus' happened."

Abraham's eyes flickered towards the ring on Astrid's finger. "Got a little carried away on your honeymoon?" He joked.

"You could say that," Astrid said. In the memory of that specific night, it was the closest they would get to a honeymoon.

Abraham acknowledged her honesty with a decisive nod. His weathered finger then shifted back at Glenn, emphasizing his point. "See," He said. "Only you two would intentionally take a risk like that."

Astrid's brow furrowed at the accusatory tone directed towards one of her closest friends, igniting a spark of protective loyalty. Swiftly, she interjected with a stern correction. "It isn't a risk," She said. "It's a chance—a chance at creating a family in a world where that's the only thing that truly matters. Daryl and I don't regret what happened, even if it was unexpected. I'm sure Glenn and Maggie feel the same about the choices they've made."

Glenn, in agreement, offered a firm nod to Astrid. A soft smile played on his lips as he gazed lovingly down at his wife. "We're trying to build something here. Me and her."

Caught in the crossfire of convictions, Abraham now shifted awkwardly between the two couples. "Well." A slow swallow preceded his tentative conclusion. "For the record," He added, leaning back in his seat as his arms crossed tightly across his muscular chest. "I see rain coming, I'm wearing galoshes." Eyeing their faces, he sighed and clarified, "I double up."

Daryl's lip curled into a knowing, sidelong smirk, and Glenn turned away once more, his attention to the open window, likely seeking an escape from the peculiar conversation. Meanwhile, Astrid held her bold stare on the even bolder redheaded man and responded with an amused grin, "That's good to hear, Abraham," She chuckled. She returned her head to the comfort of Daryl's chest as he rested his own atop hers.

"Good to hear."

~~~~~~~~~~