A/N: sorry my lovelies, I meant to have this out sooner but MANY things got in the way including getting sick and my laptop breaking but I'm here now!! I just wanted to let you know that, unlike my other books, I don't think there will be any explicit smut scenes in this one, as it makes me feel a little bit uncomfortable knowing it's Judith, even if she's aged up. All my other books will have smut  (come on, it's ME), but I don't think it's important to include it in this story! I just wanted to let you all know in case you would be disappointed :)

Also, this chapter starts with a few flashbacks and for the first one, I decided to do third person for it for (many) reasons, so hopefully that's not too jarring! Thank you all so much for the love in the last chapter and your patience!! ILY <3

─── ⋆⋅☾☼⋅⋆ ───

Fourteen years ago

The sun streams through the leaves, casting dappled light onto the forest floor as the nine-year-old boy races through the woods, his feet slamming against the leaf-strewn ground. Twigs and leaves lash at his bare arms, but he doesn't slow down, the small whips of pain only encouraging him further.

His breaths come in quick, shallow gasps as he finds sudden refuge behind a tree, leaning against the rough bark, his chest heaving as a small smile hesitantly tugs at his lips.

He did it.

He ran away.

Looking around the forest, the young boy savors the sensation of his burning lungs searing with every gulp of the deliciously fresh air.

It's all so... open.

No walls to confine him, no windows to peer longingly through, no stuffy rooms where they shut him away with only boring picture books and dull craft supplies because they didn't know what else to do with him. This is freedom.

The boy's chest feels light with an unfamiliar joy as he starts to wander through the forest, each step deliberate and curious. He absorbs everything around him: the squawking of birds diving from tree to tree, the dry crunch of leaves under his small footsteps, and the earthy, musky scent of the forest floor that is both foreign and refreshing.

Derek quickly decides that this is his favorite place ever to exist.

As he continues to explore, his fingers absently fiddle with the charm necklace he made out of sheer boredom yesterday, his fingers running along the edges of the clay shapes. His blonde head swivels, wide hazel eyes soaking in every detail as he goes, amazement warming his chest, adjusting his oversized glasses on his small face.

He wonders what it must be like to be able to come out where whenever he wants, to not be shut away anymore, and how exhilarating it would be to just be free.

As Derek walks, the trees begin to thin, revealing a large clearing bathed in sunlight. In the center stands a gently sloping hill and at the bottom, a gnarled oak tree with several boulders nestled around its base. A broad smile spreads across Derek's face as he approaches, his heart pounding with excitement. The hill is perfect for rolling with its gentle angle and soft, inviting grass. He's seen children rolling down hills in his picture books, and he's always wanted to try it himself.

As he walks around the oak tree, about to start the climb up the hill, his heart nearly gives out at a sudden metal flash, jumping back with a squeak as he realizes he's now staring down the barrel of a gun.

Derek's eyes, already magnified behind his thick glasses, widen in shock as he throws his hands up in surrender, his small heart thudding against his ribcage.

On the other end of the gun, a slightly younger girl emerges, her brown eyes squinted with distrust as she glares at him over the barrel. Derek blinks with surprise at the girl, with her cowboy hat warped with age and long brown hair with a braid on the left side of her face. If it weren't for her eyes, blazing with suspicion, her little face would be adorable, with her small nose and freckled cheeks.

"Who are you?" Judith asks Derek, keeping her voice low and intimidating, which isn't exactly possible with her age and high-pitched voice. Even her mom struggles to take her seriously when she tries to argue, often breaking into a grin and telling her how adorable she is, much to Judith's frustration.

Derek gulps, his eyes darting between the barrel of the gun and the eyes of the feisty girl in front of him. "I-I'm just walking, I don't want any trouble," Derek says quickly, his ego slightly bruised that this younger girl is holding him at gunpoint and she could decide to shoot him if she wanted.

Judith squints at him, clearly distrusting. "I've never seen you around Alexandria and I'd remember those bug eyes. Are you from the Kingdom?" Judith interrogates, her high-pitched voice hardened with suspicion, readjusting her well-trained grip on her dad's old gun.

Derek blinks, deciding to ignore her 'bug eyes' comment. "The what?" he asks with slight surprise, thinking the young girl must read too many books about princesses and kingdoms. He does too, but that's neither here nor there.

Judith frowns, studying him for a moment before abruptly withdrawing her gun and slotting it into her belt with a sigh. Derek's posture slumps slightly in relief, a small smile forming on his lips at the realization that this girl decided not to kill him only an hour into his newfound freedom.

"Name's Judith. Judith Grimes," the young girl says with a toothy grin, spitting on her palm and holding it out for Derek to shake.

Disgust pulls at Derek's face as he shrinks back, shaking his head at her spit-covered hand. "Ew," he mutters, which only makes the girl smile wider. Her aunt and uncle had instructed her that if she ever met a boy, she needed to do this to assert dominance.

She was just a girl doing what she was told, after all.

Judith grins at the boy's disgusted reaction before skipping off to roll down the hill, unbothered. Derek blinks after her, bewildered by the strange girl. He hadn't really ever spent time with other kids ever really, but they surely aren't all like that, are they?

The young boy doesn't dwell on it for long. Instead, he shrugs before following Judith, headed to do what he wanted to do originally- roll down the hill.

And so they do just that. For the next thirty minutes, Judith and Derek screech with joy as they roll down the grassy hill, accumulating grass stains and small bruises on their bodies. They both feel a warm glow of joy in their chests as they play, forming a bond only young children can as they share in the pure delight of the moment, without bothering with conversation.

That is, until a crack of thunder booms across the clearing, and Derek watches as Judith goes completely still. She was mid-climb up the hill, ready for another roll, but now she's frozen, her eyes wide and hands clenched.

Derek, who had just gotten up from his last roll, brushes off the grass from his shirt and adjusts his askew glasses, glancing up at Judith's horrified expression. Concern darts through him as his eyes quickly scan the area for any sign of danger, a dead one or some other threat that could have this girl so scared.

Another boom of thunder echoes, and Judith lets out a slight squeak before darting toward the tree, her little feet moving fast as she scampers for shelter. Stumbling through the grass and slight rocks in her way, she scrambles under the cover of the tree, her heart racing with panic.

Watching her for a moment, Derek tilts his head in slight confusion before the skies open up and rain explodes from the clouds, hammering down on them. Sighing, Derek hurries under the tree as well, hoping that the leaves will shield him from getting completely soaked to the bone. As he finds shelter, his chest heaving and rain splattered across his glasses, he looks down at Judith.

The seven-year-old girl is curled up in a ball, pressing her back against the trunk, her chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes flared wide. He can't help but think she looks like one of the mice that sometimes snuck into the Savior compound- small and trembling in a corner, terrified he'll hurt them.

He never did. He usually appreciated the company.

"Are you okay?" Derek asks the younger girl softly. Judith flinches as a lightning flash illuminates the sky, pressing her body firmer against the rough trunk. Her head shakes back and forth vehemently, trying to remember how her mom calms her down.

How can she calm down without her mama?

"Just breathe and find me. I'll always be there to help you, Judie girl." Her mother's soothing words echo through her mind, doing absolutely nothing to soothe Judith now because she had been bad and ran away. Self-hatred mixes with the engulfing fear taking over her small body, making her tremble uncontrollably, skin peppered with goosebumps.

Her eyes clench shut as if she can shut it all away, pretend it doesn't exist. But behind her closed lids, she gets flashbacks of that barn roof—the flashes of bright light, roaring wind, and deafening thunder.

She's screaming, why isn't anyone helping her?

Above the sounds of the storm, she hears her family grunting with effort, the barn doors creaking, and the faint growl of walkers encroaching. The noises are too loud, too frightening, and no matter how much she screams or how much she thrashes, no one is coming to help her.

In the present, Judith's chest heaves as she struggles to take in air through her shallow gasps, her limbs tingling as her eyes flare wide. She's alone again. She can scream all she wants, but her family won't find her.

Derek watches her, his concern deepening. He kneels beside her, unsure of how to help but feeling an urgent need to do something. "Judith," he says softly, remembering the name she gave earlier, tentatively reaching out to gently touch her shoulder. "I-It's okay."

Judith's brown eyes snap open, wild and unfocused, blinking rapidly before she focuses on the rain-drenched boy beside her, watching her. "I... I can't..." she whispers, her voice trembling, skin tingling with terror.

Derek's hand remains on her shoulder, firm but gentle. "You can," he insists kindly, his voice steady, his eyes barely visible thanks to the raindrops blurring his thick glasses.

Judith shakes her head, beginning to hyperventilate. It's all her fault. She shouldn't have run away. She's bad. She's bad.

Before she can spiral further into her dark cloud of self-hatred and terror, his voice breaks through.

"Here," Derek says, reaching into his pocket and fishing out a small collection of clay charms, strung together with one black string. He opens her palm and places them in her small hand, making the girl blink in surprise.

Her breathing already seems to calm slightly as she looks at the colorful clay charms. There are seven of them: a sun, a square, a circle, a triangle, a star, a heart, and a crescent moon. She blinks, raindrops dripping from the rim of the hat that was once her dad's and then her brother's.

"They're magic. It helps if you count them, one by one and out loud," Derek informs her slowly, pointing at the sun first.

"One."

"O-One," Judith repeats, blinking as she touches the clay, her trembling fingertip grazing the rough texture. She's not sure if she believes him that it's magic, but as they go, she swears she feels herself calming down.

"Two," they say, together now. The square.

"Three." The circle.

Her chest is rising and falling slower now as she counts with the boy. "Four." The triangle.

"Five."The star.

Judith's heart rate has begun to slow down to a normal pace.

"Six." The heart.

It's like Judith can feel the nonexistent magic flowing from the clay, through her fingers, and into her body, sending comfort and relaxation through her body.

"Seven."The moon.

Judith lets out a shuddering breath of relief, amazed at how the magic beads have helped her, looking up at the boy excitedly. "I-It works!" she breathes with excitement, watching as Derek smiles widely and nods.

"I told you, magic," he grins, a dimple forming on his cheek as he smiles down at the terrified girl. "You keep it," he says with a nod, removing his hands from hers and leaving the small charm necklace in her hands as he sits against the tree.

Judith's eyes flare wide, and she shakes her head, thrusting the necklace back toward him. "No! I can't take this!" she argues, her voice loud with refusal, seemingly forgetting the violent storm around them.

"I have a hundred of them. I don't need it," the boy lies to the seven-year-old girl with a smile, knowing she needs it far more than he ever will.

Judith blinks at him, a tentative smile pulling at her lips. "Thank you," she says softly, and the boy grins, feeling his heart warm. She's the first kid he's ever known, and he's glad he's doing this friendship thing right.

Judith looks down at the faded rainbow charms in her palm, smiling.

While the charms have calmed down the young girl, they don't contain magic, so when there's a new, earth-shaking boom of thunder, Judith cries out, before returning to the tree. She clutches the charms tightly as she presses herself against the nearest source of comfort, which happens to be Derek sitting beside her.

Derek looks over in surprise as the younger girl curls into a ball beside him, her shoulder digging unpleasantly into his side. He winces slightly but pats her back gingerly, not exactly sure how one comforts someone.

He recalls a faint memory of a warm and kind lady back at the Sanctuary who had helped him once.

He remembers being five years old, sitting on his bed in pajamas he had just wet out of terror, crying uncontrollably as explosions shook the building. His nanny had been crushed by a large chunk of shrapnel falling from the ceiling, leaving him all alone. Every explosion made him more terrified, frozen in place, staring at Nanny's unmoving and bleeding face.

He thought he was going to be alone forever until his door burst open and that nice lady rushed in, in the same black dress all Daddy's wives wore. Her dirt and blood-smeared chest was heaving, her copper hair wild, and her determined green eyes scanning the room until she saw him.

Derek recalls her face crumpling with compassion before she scooped him up without hesitation, soothing him as she carried him to safety.

He remembers how she pressed his face against her collarbone and rubbed his back as they hid, waiting for an explosion to be over, whispering that it would be okay in his ear. How it was the first feeling of genuine comfort he had felt in a while, despite the chaos and debris swirling around them.

Now, looking down at Judith, terrified just as he had been, he rubs her back, trying to emulate that same comforting touch. "Remember, count them," he says softly, trying to mimic the soothing tone of that woman from his past. Judith nods quickly, fishing out the charms.

With a trembling voice, she begins to count them again and again, letting the waves of comfort wash over her. "One... two... three..." Her voice steadies with each number, the charms' familiar shapes grounding her.

Derek watches her, feeling a mix of pride and relief as she calms down. The storm's fury slowly recedes, the thunder becoming a distant rumble. Judith's breathing evens out, and she looks up at Derek, her eyes no longer filled with panic but with gratitude.

And then, in the distance, Judith hears her name being called. She untangles herself from Derek and jumps up with a gasp of hope, her heart racing with excitement.

In her blinding excitement and childish selfishness, she grins and waves goodbye at Derek before taking off in the direction of the calls, calling out for her mom.

As she runs, Derek's necklace bounces in her pocket, a reminder of the comfort she found during the storm. But amidst her urgency to reunite with her mother and tell her about her magic necklace, Judith realizes with dismay that she never asked the boy for his name.

Meanwhile, Derek sat, watching the woods Judith disappeared in, smiling slightly to himself, happy she could go home. Though he couldn't help the tug at his own heart that he didn't have one of those for himself. That he didn't have an... Alexandria or whatever that means.

Not long after Judith's departure, the Saviors find Derek, chastising him for his stupidity as they drag him from the clearing. He goes with a sense of resignation, listening to their talk of increasing security measures. As they lead him away, Derek casts one last glance over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on the tree until it's out of sight.

In the days that follow the incident at The Tree, Derek finds himself thinking often of Judith Grimes and her home in Alexandria. He daydreams about what life would be like there, imagining a sense of safety and belonging that he's never known. As the years pass, he makes a silent vow to himself, that he will escape again.

And when he does, he's going to find Alexandria and he's going to live that happy life too.

─── ⋆⋅☾☼⋅⋆ ───

Six Years ago
Derek's POV (age seventeen)

"You fucking idiot." Rick snarls, his grip like iron as he slams me against the rough, weathered walls of Alexandria. I can't help but let out a defiant chuckle, even as I wince from the force of the push, the rusted metal scraping against my already wounded face, sending sharp pain stinging through me.

Through my haze of discomfort, I look over my shoulder to see Rick shaking his head disapprovingly, and beyond him, the silent judgment of the community members watching me get arrested. Again.

"Gotta admit it, it was kind of funny- ah!" My sentence is cut off as Rick shoves me against the wall again, seething, making me cringe slightly in pain.

"Shut it, kid," Rick huffs out with irritation, making me sigh, knowing he's really pissed off with me this time. I wonder how long he's gonna keep me shut away behind bars for this.

"Rick!" the familiar voice of Cassandra Grimes calls out, making me glance over to see the woman herself quickly approaching me and her husband, her expression creased with concern. Her gaze hardens as she sees the crowd of Alexandrians watching my arrest and muttering to each other.

"Alright, everyone, show's over!" Cass's authoritative tone commands and the onlookers reluctantly disperse, grumbling to themselves and eyeing me down one more time before leaving

"Cass, please, for once, stay out of it," Rick breathes with exhaustion, his grasp tightening around my wrists as he secures handcuffs on me, eliciting an eye roll from me. He's so dramatic.

"He gave our eleven-year-old son a beer, vandalized the wall, and then tried to pick a fight with that behemoth of a kid, Eddie. Now look at him," Rick rants, his voice dripping with disdain, causing me to click my tongue in annoyance, my cheeks burning slightly with anxiety at Cass knowing what I did.

Cass steps closer, her worry evident as she takes in the state of my beaten and bleeding face, her eyes widening in alarm. "Rick, I need to help him," she asserts with worry, turning to confront her obstinate husband, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"No," Rick responds firmly, his grip on me tightening as he begins to haul me away, ripping me from the wall. But before he can drag me down the street to the cells, Cass plants herself firmly in our path, her fiery gaze unwavering as she stops her husband.

"Rick," she repeats sternly, her tone low with warning and one eyebrow raised in silent challenge. Her expression is deadly serious and unyielding as steel, even making my skin crawl. I glance over to see Rick looking back at his wife, slightly exasperated before he tilts his head with a sigh of surrender.

A slight smirk pulls at my mouth, watching the cold man crack with just one look. Cass has got him whipped.

"Lead the way," Rick relents with a resigned sigh, his head tilted, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at his victorious wife. Cass nods, a satisfied grin spreading across her face as she takes the lead back to her infirmary, Rick's hands still firmly gripping my wrists as he yanks me with him.

"I'll be outside," Rick asserts with a huff when we get there, his irritation palpable as he leaves me in the infirmary, still handcuffed, shooting me one last venomous glare before going to exit the room.

I can't resist sending him a smug smirk at his wife protecting me, earning a clenched jaw and eye narrow from Rick in response. Before he can make his escape, Cass stops him in the doorway, her hand resting gently on his chest.

"Thank you, Rick. Remember, he's just a kid," Cass breathes softly, her eyes tender as she gazes up at her husband, her brows knitting together in the middle. Rick's tense demeanor softens slightly at her expression, leaning forward to press a kiss against her cheek, his hand coming up to momentarily rest on the curve of her waist.

Rick mumbles something to Cass in reply, a private exchange between them before finally tearing himself away and leaving without another glance in my direction.

I swallow hard as I observe their interaction, a strange sensation tugging at my heart, stirring emotions I can't exactly pinpoint. For all of Rick's flaws, and as much of an asshole he is, the love he has for his wife is undeniable. Their bond is something special and... sweet.

"Alright, let's see what trouble you've gotten yourself into this time," Cass sighs, turning her attention to me and walking over from the door, her brows knitted with concern. Her touch is gentle as she holds my face to inspect my injuries but I flinch nonetheless at the tenderness of her touch, her worry evident in the crease of her brows as she assesses the deep gash on my forehead.

With a heavy sigh, Cass turns and reaches for her supplies. "You know, I'm getting tired of seeing you like this, kid," she mumbles softly, casting me a concerned look as she pulls on a pair of latex gloves.

I huff with irritation, forcing myself to look away so I don't tell her the full truth. "He deserved it," I grit through my teeth, remembering what the giant freak said about Cass's fourteen-year-old daughter.

Cass shakes her head as she comes back to me with a fond smile tugging at her lips. "Yet you're the one in here, beat to shit," she points out dryly, her touch gentle as she tends to my wounds. I wince slightly at the stinging pain but push through it, clenching my fists until I feel my nails biting into my palm.

Cass sighs, studying my face. "You know, if you were so determined to fight all the time, it would make my life a lot easier if you could hold your own," Cass murmurs, a hint of teasing in her voice as she works. Despite the discomfort, I can't help but fight a smile at her words.

I can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the thought of being able to stand my ground, of no longer being a damn string bean so I finally teach those bullies a lesson instead of being left sprawled on the ground as they beat me.

"Rick wants you out," Cass mumbles suddenly, making me freeze, my stomach twisting nauseatingly at the idea. Of being alone out there again. It took me so long to find this place, I don't want to give it up.

I tried for so long to finally be here.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts as Cass grabs my cheeks on either side of my face firmly, forcing me to meet her unwavering gaze. "I am not letting that happen," she asserts confidently, her green eyes ablaze with determination. "But I need you to work with me. I'm trying to defend you, kid, but you're not exactly helping your case by starting fights!" she exclaims with exasperation, searching my gaze before letting go of my face and rubbing her forearm against her forehead with a sigh.

"And neither is giving my eleven-year-old son a beer," Cass adds lowly, her brows raised as she looks at me pointedly, prompting a wave of guilt.

"He asked," I shrug innocently, amusement fluttering through me at the memory of Andy asking me for a beer and me giving him a sip, making Cass send me a look, fighting a smile.

"Seriously," Cass presses, her tone firm yet tinged with concern, causing me to sigh and nod, feeling the weight of her disappointment settle heavily on my shoulders.

I hate it when she looks at me like that, pleading for me to make better choices.

"You should join the Force," Cass suggests suddenly, catching me off guard as I turn to her incredulously, my eyes wide.

"Yeah, no, I'm not becoming one of those dorks," I snort dismissively, rolling my eyes in defiance as Cass lets out an exasperated huff.

"I don't care. You're doing it." Cass declares, her voice carrying a note of determination that leaves no room for argument. I furrow my brow, taken aback by her sudden insistence. She reaches for her needle and thread, her movements deliberate as she prepares to stitch up my eyebrow.

"You're doing it because once you become one of Daryl's soldiers, my stubborn and overprotective husband can't get you kicked out," Cass tells me, making me pause, studying her expression. There's a flicker of worry in her eyes, a pang of guilt stabbing at my chest as I realize I'm the one causing her distress. I don't understand why she cares so much.

"And," Cass continues, her voice softening as she meets my gaze with a slight smile, "you will learn how to fight. So I won't have to piece you back together every other day," she adds with a snort, making a wry smile tug at my lips despite the discomfort.

The idea of actually standing my ground, of being able to defend myself instead of always ending up here, on the brink of collapse, is appealing.

"I know you're just a kid. You're only seventeen, and no one really gave you a chance when they realized who your dad was," Cass's tone softens as she begins to stitch my cut, causing me to wince at the sharp pain and grip the exam table tightly. "But that doesn't mean you have to fulfill their expectations. Maybe you could surprise them," she muses, sending me a meaningful look before resuming her task.

As I mull over her words, my gaze drifts out the window to the community I had once longed to be a part of, the same community that now seems to despise me.

That familiar deep longing pulls at my chest, a boulder that weighs on me, anchoring me here.

"You... really think I could change their minds?" I ask tentatively, my voice betraying a hint of vulnerability, still staring out the window.

I can feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I avoid meeting Cass's gaze, opting instead to focus on the world outside. I don't know what it is about her that makes me open up to her like this.

There's a moment of silence before Cass lets out a soft breath. "I do, sweetheart," she murmurs gently, the tenderness in her voice catching me off guard, a lump lodging itself in my throat. It's unfamiliar territory, having an older woman offer comfort like this, using terms of endearment that are so foreign but strangely comforting.

I'm just not used to anyone comforting me really.

Mulling over her words and deciding I don't have a choice, I take a deep breath before mustering the courage to meet her concerned gaze. I drag my eyes reluctantly from the window and meet those familiar green eyes studying me.

"Okay. I'll do it. I'll become the best damn solider in the Force, and then they'll have to like me," I mumble, injecting a hint of sarcasm into my words as I manage a faint smile.

I catch Cass blinking away another emotion before her face breaks into a broad grin, seeming relieved by my agreement.

"Yeah, you will," she affirms, her smile infectious as she redirects her attention to the task at hand. "Now sit still so I can make sure you still have a goddamn eyebrow tomorrow."

─── ⋆⋅☾☼⋅⋆ ───

Present, the morning of Chapter One
Derek's POV (age twenty-four)

"Say it again," I grit out through my clenched jaw, anger thrashing within me as I press this coward's face into the unforgiving tile of the locker room, eliciting a pitiful whimper from his trembling lips. It echoes in the large tiled space, one of the showers still going, thickening the air with condensation.

The cadet pants like a panicked animal, cringing at his face being pushed against the blue porcelain tile, blinking rapidly. A trail of blood trails down his nose and presumably into his mouth as his expression contorts with disgust and discomfort.

"No?" I question tauntingly, a sneer of disdain curling my lip as I tighten my grip on his pallid ginger locks, forcing his gaze to meet mine with a savage twist of his head. "Not feeling so damn talkative anymore?" I interrogate him lowly, punctuating my words with a swift knee to the back of his thigh, driving him further into the wall as another whimper escapes his trembling form.

"I-I'm sorry! Okay? Please! I didn't mean it!" The cadet blubbers desperately, prompting me to wrench his head to the side, locking my gaze with his terrified, celery-green eyes. He blinks back at me, panic etched across his features, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips.

"You don't so much as glance at her or her mother. You don't utter a single word to them. Ever. Again. That privilege is revoked. Do you understand?" I snarl evenly, the intensity of my gaze boring into his as I narrow my eyes, compelling the younger man to nod frantically.

His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he gulps nervously, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple under the weight of my stern stare."Y-Yes sir!" he stutters desperately, his bottom lip trembling.

A surprised smirk pulls at my mouth, my brows raised dryly. "Sir? Jesus Christ." I curse with disgust, releasing him and giving him a rough shove, causing the half-naked kid to stumble into the empty locker room, nearly slipping on the tiled floor. His little friends wisely fled the locker room earlier when they realized I was on the other side of the wall and had every word of their conversation.

"Remember what I said, ginger," I snap intimidatingly, making the cadet nod aggressively, his eyes flared wide, panting. Usually, I do worse, but compared to what I've heard before, what he said was mild.

The coward just stands there, staring at me, his chest heaving and legs bowed in the middle.

"What are you doing? Get the fuck out," I bark, my tone sharp with irritation, a glint of amusement flickering in my eyes as he scrambles away, his bare feet slapping against the tile floor. He doesn't bother retrieving his shirt or shoes, fleeing the locker room like a bat out of hell.

As the echo of his slapping footsteps fades into the distance, I snort to myself, a slight shake of my head betraying my disbelief. But my amusement is short-lived as I glance down at my knuckles, bringing them up to eye level, cursing softly under my breath. The stitches from Cass, painstakingly done just days ago, are now torn open. Damn it.

Clicking my tongue in irritation, I push aside the inconvenience for the moment and make my way toward the showers. The hot water provides little solace for the lingering anger that coils up my spine, a relentless reminder of what those fuckers were saying. With each searing drop of shower water that cascades down my skin, I scrub away the physical grime of my morning training, hissing under my breath as the soapy water stings deeply into my open knuckles.

After drying off, I change into my usual black t-shirt and Force-regulated pants, the familiar uniform clinging to my still-damp skin. With my short hair hastily dried, I navigate the echoing halls of the training center, my steps purposeful yet laden with a weight I can't shake.

The thought of facing Cass, knowing full well the exasperated look and inevitable scolding I'm going to receive for splitting open my stitches, elicits a wince that mirrors the dull ache in my knuckles. But it's not just her disappointment that weighs on me. It's also the news that, since I heard it last night, has twisted my gut into a painful knot.

Judith Grimes is going to be in my squad this year. The mere thought of it sets my jaw in a tense line, my mind racing to find a solution to this unwelcome... problem.

Ignoring the other cadets and grunt recruits who scamper out of my way as I walk calmly through the halls, I chew on my bottom lip, trying to figure out what the hell I'm going to do. How I'm going to survive her.

I was hoping Judith's lack of hand-to-hand combat skill would inhibit her from getting into my squad, but her walker kill count is the highest of the cadets, and the Force couldn't ignore that when making assignments.

Damn it.

As I tread through the corridors, my mind swirling with excuses to tell Cass, a distant sound piques my curiosity. It's a rhythmic thudding, out of place in the otherwise quiet building, especially on Assignment Day. The gym, usually bustling with activity during training hours, should be empty now. Despite the urgency to meet Cass, I find myself drawn to investigate.

Approaching the gym door, I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I should interrupt whatever is happening inside. Yet, the relentless thumping urges me on, and I push the door open, just a crack, to peer inside.

Instantly, a chill runs down my spine as I realize the source of the sound- a lone figure in the dimly-lit gym, assaulting a punching bag with fervor. It's Judith, her face a mask of determination and pent-up anger as she relentlessly pummels the punching bag.

The intensity of her focus is palpable, as if she's battling demons with every blow, her brows drawn together with a feralness that makes my stomach clench. Sweat glistens on her brow, her muscles flexing with each punch, her breaths ragged and labored. It's a raw display of strength and vulnerability intertwined, drawing me in despite my better judgment.

Just seeing her face, contorted with determination, as she attacks the punching bag sends my heart rate skyrocketing, thudding wildly in my chest.

Her eyes, pools of darkness blazing with emotion, never leave the target, conveying silent defiance against whoever or whatever she pretending that punching bag is. There's a mesmerizing ferocity in her demeanor, in her fierce brown eyes, a primal energy driving her relentless assault on the bag.

Swallowing becomes difficult as I watch, transfixed, her expression hardened with a feral rage that seems to always be hidden beneath the surface. I can't help but notice the subtle nuances in her expression- a fleeting glimpse of pain, a flicker of desperation.

My breathing quickens as my eyes, with a mind of their own, drag over her fit figure as she throws punch after punch at the leather bag. A bead of sweat trickles down her neck, tracing the curve of her spine as she pours herself into the attack. While her form is slightly off and in need of correction, my mouth dries seeing her so fiercely punch the innocent punching bag, not being able to help the searing attraction that flares through me at the sight.

There's a lingering concern nagging in the back of my mind that it's me she's picturing while punching the bag given that she must've found out about her assignment an hour ago, but I doubt I matter that much to her.

With a final, resounding thump, Judith staggers back from the punching bag, her hand trembling as she cradles it against her chest, her eyes widening slightly. There's a hint of surprise in her gaze as if she's startled by the force of her strength. A fond smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it, my heart fluttering with longing, wishing I could help her realize her strength more.

I know I shouldn't be here, watching her without her knowledge, but there's something undeniably captivating about witnessing her in this raw, unguarded form. It's a rare glimpse into the real Judith, a privilege I can't help but hold onto, even as guilt gnaws at the edges of my conscience.

And it's a refreshing change, a contrast to the hate-filled glares she usually sends my way.

Judith closes her eyes for a moment, seeming to need to catch her breath, her skin still glistening with sweat, her chest heaving, her skin flushed... I let out a shuddering exhale, trying to cool off the rising heat of my thoughts.

Judith nods to herself before my heart stutters as she suddenly recoils, her eyes flaring open and wide. Panic shoots through me for a moment, thinking she may have spotted me, but she doesn't look in my direction as she gasps, her brows knitted as she vehemently shakes her head, an unfamiliar vulnerability crossing her beautiful face as she gulps air desperately.

I'm one more second away from watching her distressed state before I barge in, ignoring our strained relationship, just to make sure she's okay. But then, Finn's irritating voice echoes through the gym, calling out to her, making Judith shake out of whatever she was going through.

I watch for only a bit longer to see Judith quickly rearrange her expression, turning and smiling at her friends as Finn and Maliah rush in to check on her. My brows twitch together in deep thought, wondering what could've happened to her in that moment, what could've shaken Judith like that.

With a final lingering glance at the trio talking, I shake my head to myself, walking away, closing the door softly behind me.

The conversation with Cass weighs on my mind as I make my way to the infirmary. I know I can't lie to her and her opinion matters too much to me. The thought of jeopardizing our... friendship with my ridiculous feelings is a burden I'm not willing to bear.

Pushing open the infirmary door, I'm immediately met with the other Dr. Grimes's unwelcoming glare. He's engrossed in conversation with Whitney, one of the former wives from the Sanctuary. Whitney offers me a warm smile, which I reciprocate with a nod, while Carl sighs in irritation.

"She's in her office," Carl states curtly, the thirty-year-old's disdain for me palpable as he refuses to meet my gaze, his one eye trained on his patient.

I nod. "Thanks for the hospitality, doc," I retort with a smirk and I head towards Cass's office, ignoring Carl's evident irritation as he redirects his attention to Whitney.

With my back to them, my facade drops, my smirk replaced with a wince. Pushing through it, I knock three times on Cass's door, cringing at the dull ache of my wounded knuckles hitting the wood.

"Come in!" Cass's familiar voice calls, and I enter cautiously, the memory of a previous encounter haunting my thoughts. I've learned the hard way the importance of knocking on her office door, especially after one horrifying night when she and Rick were in here together. It took a while to even look in Rick's direction without wanting to throw up.

Offering a nervous smile, I hold up my bleeding knuckles as I enter, anticipating Cass's inevitable scolding. Sure enough, she clicks her tongue in disapproval, her expression a mix of exasperation and concern as she rises from her desk, a small smile on her face despite her irritation.

"Let me guess- they deserved it," Cass quips, her tone betraying a hint of amusement, her brows raised knowingly.

Taking my usual seat, I chuckle softly, though it's tinged with nervousness.

"Ding ding ding. Sorry I know you just stitched me up a few days ago, Dr. Grimes," I mumble sheepishly, a smile playing on my lips, though it does little to calm Cass's annoyance. She shoots me a pointed look, her eyes crinkling with fondness despite her faux irritation.

"I've been telling you for seven years that it's Cass," she corrects me, pulling up a chair and fetching her small first aid kit, a routine familiarity settling between us that brings a sense of comfort over me, easing my discomfort about tonight.

As she gently takes my hand, inspecting the wound, I can't help but offer a teasing remark. "And I've been calling you Dr. Grimes for seven years. You'd think you'd give up by now," I murmur jokingly, earning another amused glance from Cass.

"I'm stubborn," she retorts with a snort, causing me to chuckle in agreement, though beneath the lighthearted banter, a pang of guilt gnaws at me. I steal a glance at her warm, compassionate face—the face that has offered me kindness and support time and time again.

God, I'm such an asshole.

Clearing my throat, I shift uneasily in my seat, the weight of guilt pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. It's not just a feeling; it's a tangible thing, like some gnarled, living parasite coiled around my spine, its lecherous tendrils constricting my stomach nauseatingly. Each heartbeat drums a frantic rhythm in my chest, amplifying the sense of unease that courses through me.

"Does that hurt?" Cass asks, confusion evident in her tone as she tends to my split knuckles, noticing my strained expression. She knows full well I'm used to the pain of being stitched up, after all these years. I shake my head, my gaze still averted, my brows furrowed as I fixate on the titles lining her bookshelf, anything to avoid meeting her intelligent gaze.

I can't tell her that I'm terrified for this afternoon because I'm going to begin a year of torture, becoming her daughter's commander. Her strong, beautiful, and brilliant daughter who hates everything about me. The daughter that, for a few years now, has completely invaded my mind like a damn sickness, turning me into a complete idiot.

Cass's sharp snap jolts me from my thoughts, causing me to flinch as I turn to face her, my eyes wide. "What's wrong with you?" she questions, her gaze piercing my facade and delving right into my soul.

I open my mouth to respond, but the words falter on my tongue, my mind reeling under the weight of her gaze. "I just... uh-" I stammer, a lump forming in my throat as I struggle to articulate the turmoil swirling within me as Cass raises her eyebrows.

Mentally cursing my inability to speak, I know Cass won't relent until she figures out what's bothering me. "I found out which squad Judith got assigned to," I finally manage to blurt out, my voice barely above a whisper, eliciting a spark of excitement in Cass's eyes.

"She got assigned to First," I confirm, a wave of pride swelling within me at the grin that spreads across Cass's face.

"That's great!! T-Thats the best one, right?" Cass exclaims, her proud parental smile lighting up the room, prompting a nod from me. Cass sighs with delight, looking away, her smile pulling broader across her face. I study her expression for a moment, wondering what it would be like to have parents who would be that proud of my accomplishments like that.

Judith doesn't know how lucky she is.

Cass blinks before she looks back at me thoughtfully. "Aren't you the commander or whatever they call it for that one?" she asks, making me look at her for a moment before nodding and clearing my throat. My heart lurches with panic but I attempt to mask my expression the best I can.

The older woman studies my expression before nodding slowly, her lips pressed together, a hint of an unfamiliar expression flickering across her features. She looks down, seemingly lost in thought for a moment.

I watch her anxiously, half-expecting her to demand that I be reassigned or worse- that she somehow knows the depth of my feelings for her daughter.

"You'll look out for her, for me, right?" Cass asks suddenly, her question catching me off guard. I blink in surprise, having braced myself for worse as Cass watches me expectantly.

I swallow hard, feeling a lump form in my throat. "O-Of course," I stammer, the words emerging with difficulty. "But I won't go easy on her. First squad training is tough for a reason," I add gruffly, attempting to conceal the storm of emotions brewing within me.

Cass nods in understanding, her expression softening as she turns her attention back to tending to my knuckles, meticulously fixing the stitches I inadvertently tore earlier.

As Cass focuses on her task, a wave of resignation washes over me. I know that Judith will only grow to resent me more with each passing day because of my brutal training. All of my cadets end up hating me, despite me turning them into better soldiers, and they've never hated me as much as Judith already does.

The nagging thought that has haunted me since I was nine years old resurfaces, pulling at the recesses of my memory, regret swirling painfully with the guilt:

What if I had chased after her when the storm passed? What if I followed her to Alexandria, becoming the boy who stood by her side as her best friend? What if from there, we became more?

What if I was the friend she gazed at lovingly, not Finn Hawes?

My brows knit together in deep thought as I stare at the hardwood floor, a dull ache gnawing at my heart. I know I made my bed, and I have to lie in it. The people of Alexandria, especially the Grimes, are not going to love me, no matter what I do, so I guess I'll have to be okay with them fearing me. It's easier that way.

But...

"Alright, you're all set," Cass's voice interrupts my thoughts, and I draw in a sharp breath, offering her a nod of gratitude as I clench my fist, inspecting my newly stitched knuckles.

"Thanks, Dr. Grimes," I murmur with a faint smile, meeting her gaze and nearly flinching at the tenderness reflected in her eyes as she studies me.

A subtle smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, different from her usual expressions. For some reason, this new smile unsettles me, constricting that parasite of guilt clutching my gut.

"So, with Judith no longer being a grunt recruit, she can come home and see me, right?" Cass inquires, tilting her head to the side. I blink in surprise before nodding in affirmation.

"Technically, yes. But I usually keep my cadets training hard enough they don't have time for that," I brush off, glancing back at my hand. It's a common complaint from my cadets, but it just seems like a waste of time they could be used for training. I never had the need for it, and look at me now.

"Well, that's a shame," Cass muses, a note of disappointment creeping into her voice, prompting me to glance up at her. Her expression is tinged with longing as she looks into space for a moment, smiling wistfully. "I miss her," she murmurs softly, before busying herself with gathering the used gauze and tools and getting up, leaving a pang of sympathy in her wake.

I hesitate, the words caught in my throat. "But-" I start abruptly, causing Cass to pause, her back turned to me. I release a resigned sigh. "I might change the rules. Honestly, I'm tired of the damn complaints from the cadets," I admit gruffly, making Cass slowly turn to face me.

A broad smile brightens her features as she registers my words. "That would mean a lot to me, sweetheart," Cass smiles, placing her hand gently on my shoulder. I offer a nod in response, feeling an unexpected warmth creeping into my cheeks, a mixture of gratitude and discomfort swirling within me.

"Right. Yeah," I mutter, quickly averting my gaze, internally chastising myself for my weakness. Like her obstinent husband, Cass could probably get me to do anything.

I swear I hear Cass chuckling softly under her breath, but when I glance up, her expression is sincere. "Thank you, for watching Judith for me," she tells me genuinely, her words hitting me like a punch to the gut, flooding me with a surge of guilt.

I find myself watching her daughter way more than I would like to admit, and having Cass, her mother, thank me for it makes me feel like the biggest piece of shit to exist.

Clearing my throat, I offer a stiff nod before swiftly rising from my seat, eager to escape the weight of my own emotions. Cass steps back slightly as I tower over her, and for a fleeting moment, I swear I catch a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Same time next week?" Cass quips with a playful tone, a hint of a joke lacing her words, causing me to chuckle softly as I make my way towards the door.

As I grasp the handle and cast a fleeting glance over my shoulder, I offer a small smile to the one person I trust more than anyone else, hating the fact that I've tainted it by having impossible feelings for her daughter.

"Probably."

─── ⋆⋅☾☼⋅⋆ ───

Anthony Dawson is the first of my new cadets to walk through the front door, his presence unmistakable. His broad shoulders strain against the fabric of his uniform, his imposing and heavily-musculed physique immediately recognizable by the scars littered across his ebony skin.

As he momentarily fills the doorway, Anthony's eyes dart up to meet mine with a familiarity that makes my chest warm. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, nodding to me once, a silent acknowledgment passing between us before he settles into a seat in the living room, the poor chair groaning under him.

Returning his nod with a grin of my own, memories of our shared past flood my thoughts. We had fought together a couple of years ago against the Whisperers and at one point were held captive together. Anthony's the reason I'm alive today, though he'll tell anyone the same thing about me. If they can get him to speak, that is.

Even though he had been a recruit at the time, he was pulled into the altercation between the Whisperers simply because of his raw strength, great scores, and insane build. Standing shoulder to shoulder, he mirrors my above-average height but nearly doubles me in width, his physique a testament to his relentless dedication.

Following him is a much smaller blonde who must be Maeve Sloan, with sharp blue eyes which meet mine with a nervous look before she walks over quickly to sit to the side of Anthony, her wavy hair swaying and momentarily covering her face. I never heard much about her because she tends to keep to herself, but her stats are promising, especially when it comes to her speed.

With each cadet, my heart quickens its pace, the dwindling numbers heightening the anticipation of the arrival of her.

My attention shifts from Maeve's sharp features to the doorway, where Judith's friend Maliah strides in with an air of quiet confidence. Without so much as a glance in my direction, she settles onto the center couch, lacing her fingers together calmly, her posture straight as she looks forward. One of the best sharpshooters in their year, very respectful, but with unwavering loyalty to Judith.

I like her already.

Amidst the flurry of activity and the distinct thud of the front door sealing shut, my attention snaps to the source of the commotion. Despite the persistent thumping of my heart and the relentless surge of panic coursing through my veins, I maintain a facade of practiced composure, my expression a mask of stoicism.

And there she is, bathed in the soft glow of sunlight streaming through nearby windows, her features illuminated with an infuriating appeal that captures my attention instantly. The light dances across her slight freckles, accentuating the honeyed hue of her eyes as she looks around the foyer of the house curiously.

Then he places his hand on her lower back, guiding her into the living room, and I can't help the way my jaw tightens with irritation in response.

I catch the subtle pink flush on her freckled cheeks as Judith walks over, no doubt because of Finn's hand on her lower back. I try not to feel nauseous at the thought.

As Judith crosses the threshold into the living room, her gaze finds mine, and time seems to come to a stop, similar to my heart. My breath catches in my throat as her deep brown eyes lock with mine, igniting a surge of electricity that courses through my veins.

Though I internally fight to maintain my composure, my facade of indifference doesn't waver, my gaze momentarily dropping to her lower back before I look away with a dry roll of my eyes.

I don't even give Hawes the respect of my gaze, my loathing for him simmering under my skin.

"Come in Cadets, sit down. I don't bite," I drawl tiredly, my voice steady despite the war thrashing inside me, constricting my chest. My eyes are trained on Judith as she sits down on a side chair, her jaw clenched.

"Yet," I add, not being able to help myself, a smirk pulling across my face as I see Judith stiffen, her eyes darting to mine.

Though my smirk remains firmly in place, it masks the pure fear that floods my veins- a fear that any semblance of redemption in Judith's eyes will be forever beyond my grasp, thanks to her damn assignment.

─── ⋆⋅☾☼⋅⋆ ───