[ lvii. hilltop ]

october 14th, 2012

➸➸➸

"WHAT'S GOIN' ON, RICK?"

Astrid's eyes fluttered open to the deep, gravelly rumble of her husband's voice, a sharp questioning that cut through the silence of the world around her. Exhaustion clung to her like a woolen cloak as she found herself nestled against Daryl's sturdy frame. His arm was tucked tightly around her, and as she lifted her heavy eyelids, she caught the glint of guarded steel in his eyes. Daryl's attention was fixed on something outside the RV window above their heads, and she could feel the tension radiating from him. With a quick glance downward, now, she saw his hand already reaching for his pistol.

"We've got a crash ahead," Rick answered, piercing through the last fragments of dreams that had clung to Astrid's consciousness. "Looks like it just happened."

Shaking off the grogginess, Astrid pushed herself into an upright sitting position and instinctively reached for Bailey as the RV came to a sudden stop. Turning her attention to the window, she lifted the blinds to reveal a small car lying flipped on its side in a deep ditch. Skid marks scarred the road, and even from a distance, Astrid could discern the freshly turned walkers hanging from the shattered windows.

Jesus eyed the wreckage through the windshield and then leaped to his feet. "That's one of ours!"

He immediately made a break for the unlocked door, forcing Rick, Michonne, and Abraham to spill out after him. Glenn and Maggie quickly followed suit, but as Astrid attempted to rise, Daryl's hand on her shoulder held her in place. "Stay here," He said. "You too, Bailey."

"What if this is a trap?" Astrid challenged. "You want us to be separated?"

"I want you to be safe," Daryl insisted.

"We're safest together," Astrid argued. By now, their group had gathered around the wreckage of the vehicle and its rotting victims. She grabbed Bailey's hand, and pushed around her husband, heading towards the open door. "Come on," She called back to Daryl. "We don't want to get left behind."

Daryl muttered beneath his breath, but Astrid chose to ignore it. She knew her capabilities. Exiting the RV, the overwhelming scent of fresh blood and gasoline assaulted Astrid's nostrils. Bailey clutched her tighter to her hand, and together, they approached the others. A frown creased Astrid's forehead as she took in the sight of Rick currently holding Jesus at gunpoint.

"If this is a trick, it won't end well for you," He warned.

"My people are in trouble!" Jesus pleaded as he attempted to peer around Astrid's leader for any sign of survivors. "We don't have many fighters. I know how it looks, but I'll play it out. Can I borrow a gun?"

"No," Daryl spat, joining Astrid's side. He pointed at the dusty ground. "I've got some tracks right here."

Astrid followed Daryl's narrowed gaze, squinting to detect the footprints he so clearly saw. Yet she struggled to see anything. It had been a while since he had taken her out tracking, her skills were now rusty, and she marveled at her hunter's keen instincts, and the way they always stayed notched. The way he could read the ground like a roadmap while she now struggled to see beyond her own shadow.

And so, Jesus ultimately complied, his shoulders slumping in reluctant submission. Daryl took the lead in the search, his strides purposeful, with Rick and Astrid close behind. The rest of their group formed a protective rear guard in search of attackers, both human and dead.

The tracks shortly led them to a weathered, small wooden building. Perhaps once an office of sorts. Now, with its darkness and decay, it appeared as a trap. Instinctively, Astrid drew her gun from her waistband as she pushed Bailey further behind her. Rick approached the glass doors first and rapped on them with a closed fist. Time stretched into a tensed silence until Jesus let out an exasperated breath. "They have to be in there," He insisted.

Rick's annoyance at Jesus's persistent input was evident, but Astrid saw beyond the irritation. She recognized the genuine concern on the stranger's face. She had seen the very same expression from Rick when they had nearly lost Glenn and Maggie to the Governor a year prior. The scars from that time still echoed.

Breaking the silence, Abraham finally demanded, "Are we moving in or what?"

Daryl, his glare still locked on Jesus, sneered, "How do we know this ain't firecrackers in a trash can again?"

"You don't," Jesus exclaimed. "You have to trust me."

Daryl snarled and stepped forward, but Astrid immediately intervened, placing a hand on his chest to keep him in check. Her husband's rigidity subsided beneath her touch, though the readiness to spring forward still lingered. She turned to Jesus, locking eyes with him. "They'll go in and get your people," She reassured him. "But you'll stay out here with me until they get back, okay?"

Jesus hesitated. "Is that really necessary? I'm not the bad guy here."

"How can we know?" Astrid returned, her words a sharp blade. "We woke up this morning to you rummaging around our house while we slept." Her voice remained stern as she further addressed the man. "My people go in and get yours. You and I both stay out here and wait. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

"And if I leave it?" Jesus countered.

"You won't," Astrid declared. "Not if you want your people alive."

"I'll stay back, too," Maggie volunteered, stepping closer to Astrid. "There's already enough people going inside. We'd be tripping over ourselves. I'll help keep an eye on things out here."

"We appreciate it." Rick nodded.

For a last-ditch added layer of security, Astrid observed as her leader swiftly applied handcuffs to Jesus, each metallic click snapping boldly into place. Jesus then took a step back, closer to the two women who would guard him, lips pressed into a firm line. "Just hurry, please," He urged.

While the others started for the building, Rick turned to address Astrid and Maggie once more. "If you hear me whistle, shoot him," He ordered.

"I will," Maggie promised.

Meanwhile, Astrid nodded her own understanding. She glanced toward Daryl now as he approached. "You sure about this?" He asked.

"I've got this covered," Astrid reassured. Her hunter nodded once, the silent exchange to the trust they shared, before setting off after Rick. Glenn, Michonne, and Abraham trailed behind, disappearing into the shadowy building. In a matter of seconds, silence descended, the only audible sounds being the chirping of birds in the surrounding stillness.

Bailey began to scuff her small boots into the dirt. After a moment, she looked up at Jesus. "How many of your people do you think are in there?" She questioned. Astrid nearly huffed her next breath. Leave it to her to start a conversation beneath the pretense of a hostage situation.

"I don't know," Jesus admitted. "It's been a while since I've last seen them."

"Well, what were they doing?" Bailey pressed. Her steadiness matched that of a seasoned interrogator.

"Likely looking for food," He answered.

"Oh." The little girl faltered. "We need food, too."

Jesus cast a meaningful gaze upon Bailey. "I promise, as soon as we reach Hilltop, I'll ensure you and your people are fed," He assured, his eyes gleaming with sincerity as he sent her a playful wink. "You're a fan of chocolate, right?"

Bailey's eyes sparkled. "It's my absolute favorite treat!" She cried. "My friend Denise made me a small cake this morning, and it was the first taste of chocolate I've had in months. It was so good, but I ate it so quickly, and then I had to share it with Daryl, and—poof, it was gone."

Maggie and Astrid could not help but smile at Bailey's animated response, and the latter reached forward to delicately brush a stray strand of hair from Bailey's face, tucking it behind her ear. Astrid then stole a glance at Jesus, who was still observing them with a warm smile. "She's quite the character," He remarked.

Astrid chuckled. "She keeps Daryl and me on our toes, that's for sure—"

The gentle moment abruptly shattered as a loud thud boomed from within the building, instantly silencing Astrid. Her gun shifted away from Jesus and aimed toward the front doors, where the thuds steadily grew louder. Bailey instinctively stepped behind Astrid once more, yet her grip tightened around her own little gun.

A breath later, the front door of the building swung open, revealing Michonne and Abraham, accompanied by four unnamed figures. Glenn and Daryl followed, and finally, Rick emerged. Astrid rushed to Daryl's side, placing a concerned hand on his side, fingers digging into the leather of his vest. "Are you okay?" She demanded. "What happened?"

"Building's swarmin' with walkers," Daryl answered, his hand finding a place on her lower back, urging her to move. He pulled Bailey into them with his other hand. "We need to get out of here."

As they began to walk, Astrid dared a curious glance back. Three of the strangers, two men and a woman, appeared relatively unscathed, showing only minor bruising and scratches. However, the last stranger, a man, caught Astrid's attention with a deep, oozing cut on his leg. The other two men supported him, trailing behind Rick as he guided the group towards the RV.

If it had been cramped before, the vehicle now felt suffocating with the addition of more people. The injured man cried out as he was gently lowered onto the bed in the back of the RV.

With everyone back on board, the RV returned to motion, as if it had never even stopped in the first place. After ensuring Bailey was safely beside Michonne, Astrid made her way to the opposite end of the vehicle, and pulled the sleeves of her shirt to her elbows. "I'm a doctor," She announced. "I can help."

In the crowded back room, Glenn, Maggie, the injured man, and another survivor were squeezed together. Astrid could also sense Daryl right behind her, likely refusing to let her out of his sight. The injured man let out another cry, and his friend turned towards Astrid in surprise at her offer.

"What do you specialize in?"

Astrid frowned, not accustomed to such a question. "Nothing, exactly," She replied, lowering herself beside the injured man. "I just know symptoms and cures."

The man chuckled. "Well, I guess qualifications don't really matter now, do they?"

Astrid observed carefully as the man skillfully wound a roll of medical tape around the injured man's torn leg, before administering a correct dosage of painkillers. It was a simple procedure, and soon, the injured man fell silent, his eyes closed in peaceful repose. "Wow," Astrid breathed. "You didn't even need my help."

The man nonchalantly shrugged. "I was glad to know you were there just in case," He said. He then extended a hand toward Astrid. "Name's Harlan."

Astrid shook it firmly. "Astrid," She replied, before gesturing to those around her. "This is my husband, Daryl, and these are our friends, Glenn and Maggie."

Harlan nodded kindly and reached a hand out to Daryl, who reluctantly shook it. An awkward silence soon settled in, broken only when Maggie cleared her throat and fixed her gaze on Harlan. "You said you were a qualified doctor," She pointed out. "What did you study?"

"I was an obstetrician before," Harlan revealed.

Astrid, Maggie, and Glenn all perked up in surprise, but Daryl remained unfazed. Glenn motioned to the bag in Harlan's lap. "Do you happen to have any prenatal vitamins in there?" He inquired.

A small smile spread across Harlan's lips as he looked at Maggie, who was practically glowing. "For you?" He assumed.

Maggie grinned and nudged Astrid. "Her too," She added.

This time, the smile was directed towards Astrid and Daryl. The former beamed back at Harlan, but the latter, uncomfortable with the attention, slipped his hands onto Astrid's shoulders and began giving her a small shoulder massage, his thumbs digging affectionately into her skin. "Well, congratulations to you all," Harlan said. "Unfortunately, I don't have any prenatals on me at the moment, but we have more than plenty stocked back at Hilltop. I'd say you four have certainly hit the jackpot."

"Thank you," Maggie murmured. "We really appreciate it."

"Of course." Harlan shifted the conversation. "Who's little girl is that out there?"

"Ours," Astrid answered with pride, slipping her hand into Daryl's. "Her name is Bailey."

"How old is she?" Harlan wondered.

"Twelve."

Harlan reached into his bag and produced a small set of pills. He held them out to Astrid. "Vitamins," He explained. "She should take them regularly. You want to keep her in tip-top shape in a world like this."

"Thank you." Astrid accepted the pills, tucking them into her coat pocket, and nodded her gratitude. "What else do you have back at Hilltop?" She prodded. "Medically speaking?"

Harlan let out a small breath, and his sudden smirk added an air of playful mystery. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see."

Just then, the RV abruptly lurched forward, forcing Astrid to grab onto the edge of the nearby bed for stability. Her eyes widened as she peered out the window, realizing that their drive had come to a standstill. Turning towards the front space, she saw Rick vehemently pressing the gas pedal to the floor, yet the stubborn vehicle refused to budge.

"What's going on?" Astrid called.

"Damn it," Rick grumbled, frustration evident as his palm collided with the wheel. "We're stuck in the mud. A storm must've passed through."

"Don't worry," Jesus interjected calmly. "We're already here."

Astrid furrowed her brow, her narrowed stare shifting to Jesus, who, along with Harlan and his companions, was already disembarking from the immobile RV. Nervous glances were exchanged between Astrid, Daryl, Glenn, and Maggie, before the former slowly began to rise to her feet.

Being the first to emerge from the back room, Astrid followed Rick and Michonne. As she leaped from the bottom step of the RV, she grimaced at the unpleasant sensation of landing in a substantial pile of mud. It clung tenaciously to her boots, requiring Daryl's sturdy arms at her waist to pull her free. "Thanks, honey," She said, maintaining a tight grip on his hand.

In front of them, Jesus extended his arms. "Well, everyone," He spoke softly, his back turned to Astrid and her group as he surveyed the surrounding countryside. "That's us." Astrid turned in accord, where a few hundred yards away, a substantial community lay nestled behind towering, fortified walls.

"That's Hilltop."

➸➸➸

ASTRID TRUDGED THROUGH THE muck, her boots sinking into the wet earth as she followed Daryl and Jesus up the path toward Hilltop. Behind them, their large group pressed forward, with Harlan bringing up the rear as he helped his injured companion along, the latter grumbling about being rudely awakened from his nap.

Astrid eyed the looming, defensive walls. The mystery of what lay beyond those barriers intrigued her.

"Stop right there!"

At the sharp exclamation, all were forced to a sudden stop just before the entrance to the Hilltop Colony. Guns immediately rose, and tension rippled through the group as they scanned the skies above for the source. Daryl sidestepped in front of Astrid and Bailey. "You goin' to make us?" He snarled. Following her husband's glare, Astrid's attention locked onto two figures wielding menacing spears atop the entrance gate.

Jesus quickly intervened, hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Calm down."

"What the hell is this?" Glenn demanded.

Rather than answering, Jesus, however, focused on the gatekeepers. "Open the gates, Cal," He commanded. "Freddie's hurt." Then, he turned back to Rick. "Look, I'm sorry about these guys," He apologized. "They get antsy standing up there all day doing nothing."

Cal, one of the gatekeepers, remained unyielding. "They give up the weapons, and then we'll open the gates."

"Why don't you come down here and come get 'em?" Daryl snapped. Astrid laid a warning hand on his hip, her fingers digging in, anchoring him. He glanced briefly at her, understanding that she would not dissuade his aim—rather, that she would stand by him in any shootout that might unfold.

Just as a boiling point was bound to be reached, Harlan stepped forward, aligning himself beside Jesus. Raising a placating hand, he addressed the figures on the wall with unexpected softness. "Gentlemen," He called. "Look, we vouch for these people, all right? They saved us out there. Lower the spears."

Cal and his fellow man locked eyes. As they did so, Rick also stepped forward, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm not taking any chances," He warned. "Just tell your guy Gregory to come out here."

"No," Jesus argued. "Don't you see what just happened? I'm letting you keep your guns. We ran out of ammo months ago." His gaze swept over Rick's shoulder, taking in Astrid and others. "I like you people. I trust you," He asserted. "Now trust us."

Astrid, her lips pursed, turned to Rick, finding his eyes already seeking hers, silently soliciting her opinion. At her hip, Bailey innocently tightened her grip on Astrid's hand, and with a brief glance upward at the armed figures above, Astrid turned back to Rick, offering a subtle nod. That nod, barely perceptible, was the green light Rick needed. He sighed, and Jesus received the signal of confirmation as well.

Jesus turned to his allies on the wall. "Open the gates," He repeated.

The Hilltop Colony's gates groaned and protested, but they soon yielded. As the gap widened, the group began their advance. Astrid's eyes widened at the unexpected scene inside. Unlike Alexandria's remnants of an actual suburban neighborhood, Hilltop seemed to have risen from the ashes of the world's end entirely. Their walls formed a colossal rectangle, enclosing a vast open space of more rural land. To the left sprawled small workplaces, plantations, and livestock buildings—chicken coops, pig pens, and horse and cattle stalls. On the far right, a cluster of two dozen large trailers stood with people bustling around, engaged in daily chores.

Astrid marveled at the bustling activity but noticed that the general population appeared smaller than their own. Nonetheless, her attention was again captivated by the community's centerpiece—a pristine, three-story mansion in the heart of Hilltop, seemingly untouched by the apocalypse.

Astrid felt a gentle tap on her shoulder, and as she turned, she caught sight of Harlan. "Thanks again," He expressed. He directed his gratitude towards Daryl, Glenn, and Maggie, too. "Come see me whenever. I'll happily give you all checkups and get you those vitamins. I'm just over in that medical trailer, okay?"

He pointed toward a trailer on the far right, and Astrid nodded, offering Harlan a kind smile. "Thank you," She replied.

"We'll be there," Daryl assured.

Astrid watched as Harlan departed, carrying the injured Freddie with him. Soon, others left, too, dwindling down to just her remaining group and Jesus. He led them toward the mansion, unraveling the tale of Hilltop Colony's origins as they walked. "There was a materials yard for a power company nearby. That's how we were able to put up the walls," He explained. "A lot of people came from a FEMA camp, and the trailers came with them."

From her place beside Rick, Michonne questioned, "How did people find out about this place?"

Jesus gestured towards the grand mansion as if it held the answer to Michonne's curiosity. "That's called the Barrington House," He revealed. "The family that owned it gave it to the state in the thirties. The state turned it into a living history museum. Every elementary school for fifty miles used to come here for field trips."

Bailey's mouth fell open. "I remember reading about the House from one of my history books!" She exclaimed. "My fourth-grade teacher, Miss Blake, had a map in the back of her classroom that showed where all historical houses were located. It was pretty cool."

Smiles grew upon the faces of all the adults present. However, the young girl remained oblivious, captivated by the colossal house before her. Astrid noticed Daryl lowering his shotgun, his sole attention now fixated on the little girl, too. It seemed that only Bailey had the unique ability to impart new knowledge to the hunter every other day.

Jesus grinned at Bailey. "See?" He said. "People all over knew about Barrington House. This place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it. I think people came here because they figured it'd keep running after the modern world broke down."

"How do you see?" Astrid wondered. "You've only got one lookout with two guards. How do you manage to keep an eye on everything else?"

"Those windows up there let us see for miles in every direction," Jesus explained, his eyes going to the third floor of the mansion. "It's perfect for security. Now come on. I'll show you inside."

They ascended the dirt path and climbed the porch steps. Astrid meticulously wiped her feet on the mat, a small ritual before entering a world unknown. Daryl, on the other hand, disregarded the mat entirely, leaving his mark in a careless stride.

The interior of the mansion unfolded before Astrid with divine beauty. A glass chandelier hung majestically from the tall ceiling, casting ethereal reflections. Elsewhere, a sweeping curved staircase beckoned, leading to hidden rooms on the second and third floors. Astrid struggled to contain her curiosity, standing still beside Daryl when every fiber of her being suddenly longed to explore.

Drawn to one of the many bookshelves on the bottom floor, Astrid found herself lost in the allure of knowledge. Before she could utter a word, Abraham voiced the awe that likely echoed in the room. "Good gracious, Ignatius," He murmured.

Jesus reveled in their reactions. "Most of the rooms have been converted to living spaces," He noted. "Even the ones that weren't bedrooms."

"People live here—and in the trailers?" Rick inquired.

"We plan to build," Jesus replied. "There are babies being born."

At the mention of babies, Astrid instinctively touched her stomach, her thoughts drifting to what could be. Glancing out the window toward the medical trailer, she noticed Harlan engaged in conversation with a far-along pregnant woman and the expectant father. A pang of longing swept over her—a vision of what could be with Daryl. Yet, they still had their own doctor back home. Denise, a friend who had grown rapidly to earn a special place in Astrid's life. The thought of facing pregnancy without her was unfathomable.

Abruptly, a set of double doors swung open behind them, jolting Astrid and her companions to spin around. Their guarded eyes locked on a man with a mane of grey hair, stepping into the gleaming foyer from a clandestine study. Draped in a baby blue button-up shirt beneath a blazer and slacks, he exuded an air of authority.

"Jesus, you're back," He exclaimed, hands clasped together. "And I see you've brought a couple of guests."

"Everyone, this is Gregory," Jesus introduced. "He keeps the trains running on time around here."

A grin played on the old man's lips. "I'm the boss."

Astrid straightened at the revelation. The presence of the man before her did not quite align with her preconceptions of a leader for this community. There were hulking figures within these walls, men with more overt strength than Gregory. Why, then, was he at the helm?

Rick gestured toward Gregory in kind, attempting to further initiate introductions. "I'm Rick. We have a community—"

The mirth vanished from Gregory's face as he interrupted, "Why don't you all go get cleaned up?" Then, he dismissively waved his hand.

The singular command sparked an immediate aversion in Astrid. Her posture stiffened, spine coiling like a live wire, as her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. Her glare—now sharp as daggers—steeled into the man. Who did he think he was, issuing orders like they were beneath him? The world's current state had long erased the need for suits and ties. Clearly, this moron was the only one still clinging to the vestiges of a bygone era.

Unable to contain herself, Astrid retorted sharply, "Excuse me?"

Her demand hung dangerously between them. No man's land.

Nevertheless, Gregory responded with a forced smile, devoid of sincerity. "Jesus will show you where you can get washed up," He said. "Then come back down here when you're ready."

"We're ready now," Astrid declared, hands planted on her hips.

The weight of numerous eyes on her did not sway her ensuing snarl. Rather, the spotlight seemed to embolden her, prompting a step forward. No longer sheltering behind Daryl or even Rick, Astrid took her place at the forefront. Something within her had shifted, a refusal to tolerate the condescension dished out by this self-appointed leader. She would gladly knock him off his pedestal.

Gregory took a defining step towards Astrid, too. There was visible disdain etched across his face as if her very presence emitted an offensive odor. "It's hard to keep this place clean," He insisted. "I hope you understand."

Venom poised itself on the tip of Astrid's tongue, yet before she could respond, she found herself gently pulled back by a forceful grip on her forearm. Expecting the strength of Daryl, she turned to find Rick instead. "We understand," He reassured over her head. He spoke stiffly. Dangerously. "We'll get cleaned up."

"Excellent. I'll be in my office when you're ready."

As the leader of the Hilltop Colony retreated into his study room, Jesus established the lead and began guiding them up the stairs. Astrid found herself walking beside Rick. "You clean up first," He instructed her. "You talk to him."

Astrid hesitated. "You sure?" She challenged. "Because I can get the man to talk, but I'm not entirely sure you'll want me to."

"I trust you, Astrid," Rick replied. "You've got ten minutes. If you're not out by then, I'll send Maggie in. She's got to start being able to do these things, too."

The Dixon woman exhaled. "All right. But it's his funeral."

Reaching the second floor, Jesus showed them to two separate washrooms. Astrid chose the larger one, holding it open for Daryl, knowing he would follow. As the door clicked shut behind them, she made a beeline for the sink and began washing her hands, slowly, without passion or haste.

Daryl's reflection in the mirror was the only thing she could see as she eventually lifted her head.

"What are you goin' to say?" He questioned her.

Astrid shrugged as she scrubbed the dirt from underneath her fingernails. "We need food. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure we get it."

"You sure about this? I'll go in there with you if you want."

"I'm okay," Astrid dismissed. She grabbed a nearby towel, dipped it into the water, and then began to dab it along the grease that spotted her neck. "Rick's right—I can do this. I have to. And I'm not scared of him. God forbid a man in a button-up shirt tries to tell me what to do."

Daryl chuckled from behind her. "That's my girl."

Astrid reciprocated his smirk with a teasing smile—but then furrowed her brow in confusion. "Why aren't you cleaning up?" She wondered.

Daryl shot her a side glance in the mirror, and she rolled her eyes at his response. "You jus' said you didn't need me," He reminded her. "So, I ain't got any reason to."

"Okay, Mister Tough Guy," Astrid chuckled beneath her breath as she began to dry herself off. She then turned to face her husband. "Be honest. Do I look presentable enough for that prick to actually hold a conversation with me?" She questioned. "Clean enough?"

Daryl's eyes roamed over her, without restraint. Then he approached her, and encircled her waist with his arms, pulling her flush against him. The proximity forced Astrid to look up to maintain eye contact. His heated stare scrutinized her face, and his thumb traced along her chin, her lower lip. For a moment, he appeared to nearly lean in. Yet his mouth never touched her. As their breath mingled, he withdrew his hands and pulled back. He feigned a dissatisfied expression, before nonchalantly shrugging.

"It'll have to do, I guess."

Astrid's jaw dropped, and she lightly knocked him in the chest. He merely grinned, leaning down once more—this time, for a proper kiss. But just as their lips met, she pulled away and headed for the door. As she passed him, Daryl playfully smacked her on the backside, and she whirled around, sending him a fiery glare. He responded with another mischievous grin, and she flipped him a crude gesture before pulling the door open, coming face-to-face with Rick and the others. Seriousness resettled.

"You ready?" Her leader questioned.

Astrid scanned the many onlooking faces of her family, and then confidently nodded. She would not let them starve another day. "As ready as I'll ever be," She replied, before stepping aside to let Maggie take her turn in the washroom.

Michonne squeezed her shoulder. "We'll be here if anything happens."

Astrid acknowledged the support with another swift, steady nod and then made her way toward the staircase. Surprisingly, her heart was not the nervous drum she expected it to be. Alone on the bottom floor, she halted just before Gregory's study.

Glancing back up the curving, sleek stairs, both Daryl and Rick stood as silent sentinels over Astrid, guarding her from a distance. Should she need it, they would come running. But she would not need it.

She could do this.

So, she looked away. Gathering her resolve, her ferocity, her own charm, the Dixon woman took a deep, calming breath, before pushing the study doors open wide. Stepping within, she steeled herself for whatever awaited her on the other side.

~~~~~~~~~~

time for astrid vs. gregory.  place your bets now.