𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 | Daryl Dixon

63 | PURPLE GRASS

For on the odd occasion she did, and the barrier happened to crack, the agony on the other side would be too much. Like staring into a furnace, the flames roasting her alive.

Tori placed her mug down and shuffled across the couch, hugging Jake's side like she used to as a child. Well, not exactly like that. Back then, she'd hug his leg as she hid behind him, or hold his hand whilst she stayed glued to his side. She remembered how annoying she used to feel for being afraid to let go. After all, what ten-year-old boy wants a five-year-old girl following him around like a lost puppy? But even if it did annoy him, Jake never complained. He never told her to get off, never pushed her away.

"I missed you," her words tumbled from her lips in a soft, whispery mumble.

Kissing the top of her head, he smiled to himself. "I'm sure you did."

Tori scoffed, smacking his chest as she sat up straight. "Dickweed."

"And proud," Jake grinned, nudging her shoulder. When she laughed, his smile softened, and he ran his palm over his brown stubble. "I missed you too," he said quietly.

Footsteps descended the staircase in the hallway, cutting through the short moment of silence between the two on the couch. Deanna entered the room with a smile, the expression growing when she spotted Tori.

"Good morning," the older lady greeted, clasping her hands in front of her. Tori smiled politely as Deanna looked at her son. "Jake, don't you have work?"

He pressed his lips into a tight smile, his eyebrows raising when he glanced at the face of his watch. "Lost track of time, sorry. I'll head out now."

Being the only teacher in the town was a responsibility he always took seriously, never missing a day. It gave him a sense of purpose, a reason to get up in the morning. Everyone had their roles in this community, and he knew that he was lucky with his – working with the kids, giving them a piece of a normal childhood.

"Go on, get outta here," Deanna hurried him out, causing him to chuckle as he lifted his hands in surrender. "Victoria and I have work to do too."

Tori hid her amused smile behind her coffee mug as she stood up, hearing Jake mumble under his breath about being a grown adult, and not needing his mother telling him what to do – ironically, an incredibly childish rant to be having with himself. 

He shrugged on his leather jacket, pushing the sleeves up to his elbows before opening the front door just as Maggie Rhee had stepped up to it from the outside, her fist raised, about to knock.

"Oop, sorry," she chuckled nervously, her hand dropping.

"It's all good, come on in," Jake smiled, stepping out of her way, nodding his head down as she walked past him – ever the gentleman. He waved to Deanna and Tori over his shoulder as he jogged down the porch steps.

Maggie was always one to stand her ground, putting on a brave face in the most uncertain of situations. But anyone could see that her shoulders relaxed, a shallow breath of relief escaping her lips when she noticed Tori was already standing in the unfamiliar home. The older brunette visibly relaxed too, standing a little taller. Deanna ushered them both to the kitchen before rushing back to answer a knock at the front door.

As they entered the house, Rick and Michonne wore their new uniforms, old police jackets with faded emblems on the sleeves, button-up shirts, and dark grey ties. Michonne took a seat across from Maggie at the island whilst Rick stayed standing, his boot incessantly tapping against the floorboards. His eyes darted around the room as if looking for danger, like an animal watching out for predators.

The sight of Rick reminded Tori of when she first met him, how he kept his Sheriff's uniform for those first few weeks until he shed them one day, leaving that part of him behind. His hands were tucked into his pockets, the materiel being pulled taut. Obvious dents protruded where his knuckles were digging into the navy. He looked uncomfortable in the clothes, as if the uniform were restricting him, forcing him to be something he simply wasn't anymore.