"𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞„

thirty three, love you to death

"I just have a weird feeling, that's all. I'm sure it's nothing." She said, jerking her fingers through a loose dandelion's stem. A gust of wind came, blowing all the seeds from the plant and wishing them away into nothing.

"Come here," he whispered, holding his arms out for her. Waiting for her. No. Something was wrong. Incredibly wrong.

Yet, she slid into his arms with no hesitation, laying her head on his chest as it rose and fell in the brisk air.

"I don't know if my dad's plan is going to work. But, I trust him with my life. I know you do, too. I mean, how much shit has he got us through?" He said, lacing his lean fingers through her loose braid.

"A whole lot." She said confidently, though, still unsure on something.
"I'm not sure it's him I don't trust. I think it's that....i don't trust myself. I don't know. It's hard to explain."

"I trust you. Maybe even more than I trust my dad." He said, looking down at her though she couldn't see it.

"Really?" She asked, a supple amount of disbelief evident in her voice.

"My dad definitely trusts you too. That's why you're upfront today and not cooped up inside watching Judith like Enid or Ellie would be. No offence to them."
He added, shifting upwards a little. He reached up, placing his hat on his face like he was sleeping.

"I'll tell them you said that," she said, laughing.

"No, but seriously. You're not weak, Jane. You never have been."

But am I too strong?

They packed up their things around twenty minutes later, though they never really wanted to leave. The meadow stayed quiet as they left, and likely would remain that way forever as they fought for their lives. They got back over the wall before anyone was even up, but didn't feel the need to go back to bed.

Carl sat at the kitchen table for awhile, dismantling and fixing up his gun with wrenches and Allan keys. Jane washed all the dishes for Rick - trying to keep her mind off of anything to do with violence. Inevitably, she just ended up sitting next to Carl, helping him with his reconstruction.

The two had learned of Rosita and Sasha's departure last night, when Michonne and Rick had been talking loudly downstairs. Honestly, Jane admired the girls for their departure. She wasn't worried about either of them, as they could hold their own, but rumour was spreading that Rosita had come back alone.

Alone was never good.

That was when the door burst open, and in stormed Jesus, Rick, Dwight, Rosita and Daryl. Clearly they'd been out doing something, because ground seemed to tear up and follow them into the space - as anger tore at their faces. Something (or someone) was in disagreement.

"They have Sasha, if she's even alive." Rick spat, swinging his hips like he always did.

"Why didn't you say something?" Jesus said, whispering in closer to Rick as to not alarm the others. Jane and Carl exchanged knowing glances as the others argued in the distance. Rick's eyes seemed to widen as Jesus kept talking, and when his pupil's darted right to his son's, both knew something was up. The next sound that ensued was Carl's chair screeching beneath him, as he stood up straight.

Jane felt one arm grasp to his wrist, again - like it always did. She wasn't sure why this time.

"He could be our only chance to get her back." Jesus suddenly said, pointing at Dwight. Jane felt the hairs on her arm rise as she met his eyes. She remembered the way he appeared all those months ago. Scared. Scared of her.