The more she thought about it, the more Liv wanted to smack herself for turning down coffee; especially if the coffee beans were fresh. Or...well, as fresh as you can get them when the world stops moving. She couldn't deny that she'd been craving a good cup of coffee for a while now; she hadn't had a good cup since she'd stumbled across the prison, but even then it hadn't been as good as it used to be. Whether that was the coffee itself or the memories that were tied to ninety percent of them, she didn't know; but there was a part of her that missed it. That missed everything. But for some reason she couldn't bring herself to trust him fully. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something or at least not being genuine about something.
But he was here. Something she'd never admit she'd wanted before now, but she couldn't deny there was a small part of her - deep down - that was relieved he was in Alexandria with them. Safe. That's what mattered the most. Things weren't the same as they had been before, but she knew that it was going to be almost impossible for them to fall back into their old patterns from before everything went to hell. Early mornings spent just enjoying each other's company; whether it be relaxing in the same room, reading a book beside him while he lost himself in some video game or some project he'd started or mornings passed with her perched on the counter with a giant cup of coffee in her hands while she watched him cook or even sometimes cooking for the both of them and trying her damndest (and usually failing) not to let the food burn while he distracted her. Sliding up behind her, his lips pressed to her ear and murmuring something about what she was wearing. The way she smelled. The way she looked in his shirt.
No, that was a reality that she genuinely didn't think they would ever get back to. Things were too different now. But he was here, and he was trying. He was abiding by her wishes and not trying to force himself into their daughter's life. He was keeping his distance and letting her get used to his presence again. Honestly, while she would never admit it to his face, his presence had been fairly easy to get used to; he wasn't trying to invade her space or involve himself in her work duties or daily life. They rarely interacted (though that was also heavily due to her doing everything she can to avoid him) so seeing him around every so often wasn't hard to adjust to. It was adjusting her mindset that had been the tough part. Adjusting the way she thought about him. Letting go of the anger she'd clung to the last few years thinking he'd abandoned them. Adjusting to the reality that everything she'd thought was wrong and the guilt that came with that.
Pulling herself from her thoughts, she nodded with a laugh at the comment about Eugene's genius. The man really was a genius in her opinion, even if it hadn't been the way they'd thought when they first met him. "He's...yeah, he's something alright. Genius is one of many terms I'd use to describe him," she commented with a slight shake of her head. She'd caught the brief flash of jealousy in his eyes at the mention of Daryl, but she acted like she hadn't. There was no need to bring up the extent of her relationship with Daryl, especially not when they were trying to rebuild a semblance of their old friendship. "Daryl...takes some getting used to, but he's a good guy. He's rough around the edges, obviously, but he's also just not used to being around this many people. In a community this...fancy," she remarked with a slight shrug. "He didn't grow up too different from us," she added. "Pretty similar to how you did, actually. Just more...redneck," she laughed a bit to herself before shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "At least you didn't have to grow up with Merle. God damn," she commented, more to herself than to him; she felt bad for how Merle had died, but she couldn't say she missed the man either. Daryl had always had an inferiority complex when it came to his brother, but he was twenty times the man his older brother had been. "But yeah," she remarked, shaking his head a little and getting back to the topic at hand. "Just give him a chance, I'm sure you two have more in common than you think. He doesn't trust easy, either," she commented with a knowing look.
She couldn't help but laugh at the idea that whoever was supplying him with his coffee bean hookup might stop delivering if he gave them up. That wasn't necessarily true, but depending on who it was it definitely could have been true. Coffee was a rare commodity in this new world; she was a little surprised anyone had actually revealed they had it. Understanding his (albeit teasing) decision to keep the coffee smuggler to himself didn't stop the not-knowing from gnawing at her a little, though, and she knew he knew her well enough to know that.
The tension eventually came back into play, though, as the subject of living arrangements was brought back up. She knew that he wasn't used to this sort of environment or housing, but that didn't mean he had to just instantly give it up either. Especially not for her or Anya. They were doing good in Alexandria; honestly, better than they probably ever would have done back in the old world. He deserved good things in his life, too; even if he didn't think or believe it. Even if said good things only came after the world went to shit. "I do like it," she clarified with a shake of her head. "For you. An and I are perfectly fine where we are," she added, nodding a little. She paused for a second before adding a brief 'But I appreciate the offer' so she wouldn't look like as much of an asshole as she felt when she saw his smile fall.
At his question about making something for Anya, she froze for a brief moment. She honestly didn't know what to say. Her gut reaction was 'absolutely not', but she knew better. She knew he wasn't trying to pull anything; he just wanted to do something for their daughter, even if it was something as small as making her something. After a few moments of silence, she nodded a little and gave him a small smile. "Yeah, I would. If not her bedroom, then probably the playroom depending on what it is." She paused for a moment before sighing quietly. "Whatever it is, I'm sure she'd love it. And I don't have a problem telling her it's from you. So...so long as it's from her new friend Shep and not her father," she remarked, giving him a look that told him that was the best she could do. For now, at least.
Liv shrugged a little in response to his comment about her landing on her feet. "For now, I guess." He wasn't entirely wrong, but it was still hard to stomach. It was hard to think that she'd finally landed somewhere safe. That she'd finally managed to have both feet on solid ground. Things had been great at the prison; she'd let herself think things were finally falling into place, and then the Governor happened. Then life literally exploded around them. They were lucky that they found Alexandria, but it had been rough roads for a long time. Especially with everything that'd happened at Terminus. Looking up at the mention of wanting to talk to Deanna, she couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her face at the idea of him wanting to help shore up their defenses; it only enforced the idea that he was really staying. That he wasn't going anywhere. "I think that's a good idea," she said with a nod. "I don't think Reg has been able to work on them as much as he wanted. I know there was a group that was going out at one point getting panels when Reg first started getting the walls up, but they stopped. They think it's too dangerous. That the walls will hold up as-is. They're not necessarily wrong, they've held up for years now, but that doesn't mean they won't need replaced soon. Especially if there's a hoard nearby or someone else decides they want what we have," she commented with a shake of her head; she knew how dangerous it could get when someone else wanted what you had.
She nodded at the question. "Most of them, actually," she said with a disbelieving sigh. "Not all of them; there are maybe half a dozen or so aside from our group from the prison that were recruited by Aaron or Daryl or myself. But a majority of them were put here when the world went to hell. Deanna was a senator...I think? Or maybe that was Aaron. I don't fully remember. But they were a bunch of important people and their families. The military put them here as a temporary thing, and then they never came back," she shrugged. "It's far enough away from the damage that somehow they've been able to avoid everything. The raiders, most of the walkers, the hoards...almost everything." She honestly didn't know how long that would last. There had to be other groups nearby - other people who knew the security of what they had and wanted it for themselves. Honestly, not a whole hell of a lot would have surprised her anymore when it came to this new world. She took a long swig from her beer when he asked if she thought someone would attack them, before ultimately shrugging and shaking her head.
"I genuinely don't know. And I don't know how to get them ready. I don't think any of them would last a day out there. Not really. And it wouldn't surprise me in the latest if someone decided they wanted this place for themselves, but...I don't know." She paused for a moment, setting her beer down moving to jump up onto the island. She couldn't help it; she had a thing about sitting on an island - it just felt right in some sense. Especially with Shep nearby, though she refused to let herself get distracted again. "That's what I hate the most about it," she started again. "I can't...I can't let my guard down. I can't feel like we're actually safe here. Not knowing the area or anything like that. Knowing that someone could attack at any time, but not knowing when or if they even will. If I let my guard down..." She trailed off for a second before sighing. "That's how you lose people. That's how Carol lost her daughter. That's how Rick and Maggie lost their families. I won't feel safe or secure until I know this place isn't at risk." She sighed heavily. "Until I know that she's not at risk."
It was stupid, really, the way something so small could hit him like a punch to the gut. But as he stood there, watching Liv wrestle with whatever thoughts had her lost in the past, he couldn't help but wonder if she ever thought about those memories the way he did. If she ever missed them. Missed him. For a long while after their forced separation, it had been difficult for Shep to imagine anything without an image of her blurring his thoughts, their daughter too. He'd battled more than demons than he could count and he'd fallen victim to them too. Sleepless nights, early mornings of shooting up from wherever he'd laid his head to search for her distant voice, only to realize he'd been dreaming. Again. He'd thought the unknown was torture, but having stumbled into the same gated community as her, some questions answered, others left untouched... now he knew real torture.
He wanted to say something—anything—to bridge the quiet stretching between them. But what was there to say? That he remembered every single moment before the world went to complete and utter shit? That he could still hear her laugh in his head when he closed his eyes? That even now, after everything, there was a part of him that wanted to pull her back into the world they'd lost? And even though he couldn't, that he still wanted to pull her close? That he wanted to make new memories in a kitchen much nicer than anything they'd ever known? That he wanted to fill every room in his place with the sounds of her sweet amusement?
But things weren’t the same. They couldn’t be.
So instead, he exhaled sharply and forced a smirk. “You know, if you’re having second thoughts on that coffee, I might be feeling generous enough to offer again.” His voice was light, teasing—but his eyes searched hers, as if hoping for something she wasn’t ready to give.
"What's his deal? What'd he do before the fall?" Anyone could have a head on their shoulders built for survival. Hell, he'd found himself doing and learning things he never would have if the world hadn't been turned upside down. Some things couldn't be self-taught though, and from what he knew of Eugene, that kind of intelligence didn't stem from resilience.
He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, trust isn’t exactly something that comes easy these days." Shep shifted on his feet, his gaze trained on hers as she rambled on about the other man. It stung, the way her mouth curved towards the ceiling above as she spoke so freely about the leather vest cladded man he'd come to know as Daryl. The raven haired male had heard her speak about him in the same light before, her confidence in the man level and firm. He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair before nodding. "I’ll give him a chance. No promises, but…" A small smirk tugged at his lips, one that did little to show the sting beneath. "I’ll try not to hold the redneck thing against him." And he would, given that the man gave him no reason to.
His eyes flicked to her, searching for something—reassurance, maybe. Or just some indication that this uneasy truce between them wasn’t as fragile as it felt. That all the distance, all the years, weren’t an insurmountable wall between them. He wasn’t blind. He knew she was still working through it all, still adjusting to the fact that he was here, that everything she’d believed had been turned upside down. And honestly? He couldn’t blame her. If the roles had been reversed, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let go of that kind of anger either.
But she was talking to him. She'd gone out of her way to check-in with him at his place, even if it had been orchestrated by someone else. That had to count for something, right?
He caught the hesitation in her voice, the way her expression shifted ever so slightly before she answered. It wasn’t an easy thing for either of them—this strange, careful balancing act they were trying to pull off—but the fact that she didn’t immediately shut him down was something. A small crack in the wall she’d built between them. Shep nodded, absorbing her words with the kind of patience he was still learning to practice. "That’s fair," he said, voice even, though there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. "I’ll make sure it’s something she’ll like. No expectations, no pressure."
His lips twitched in something close to a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wanted to ask if that line—not her father—would ever change, if there would ever come a day when he wouldn’t have to be just Shep, the new friend, but he held his tongue. This wasn’t about what he wanted.
Shepley nodded, his gaze steady, but his thoughts lingered on her response. He could see it in her eyes—the way she still held onto that guarded, wary hope. The both of them knew how easily everything could shift in the matter of an instant. "I get it. I can't imagine keeping a place like this going is easy." As her voice tapered off, his stomach turned over, threatening to empty the beer that had only just settled there. He knew for a fact that someone wanted this place for themself, and he also knew for a fact that Negan had the means to push past every board and metal sheet still standing. "Doesn't mean that won't fail one day. A hoard... or someone wanting in this place... I think we both know what happens when a desperate person wants something." And Negan was the right amount of desperate, careless, and reckless to take it.
With or without Shep's help.
Shepley listened carefully, taking in the weight of her words. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice, the weariness of someone who’d seen too many close calls and too many good people lost. His eyes softened, his brow furrowed slightly as he looked at her—he understood that kind of fear, that kind of responsibility. "Sounds like a lot of them don't have a clue what they're really up against," he said quietly, a little frustration creeping into his voice. While they'd been left to fight for themselves with no clue how to navigate the new world, there were people living as if nothing at all had changed. "Crazy how some of us were left in the dark and then you have a place like this..." he trailed off, silencing himself with a long pull from his beer. Little did she know, the safe haven wasn't so tucked away after all. The reminder had him taking yet another drink, leaving nothing more than another sip or two in the bottle.
He gave a small sigh, the kind that felt heavy with everything he didn’t know how to say. "I don't think you have to let your guard down, Liv. But maybe… maybe you can start trusting that we’ll help shoulder some of it. Not just you. Not just your group. We’re all in this together now. We can get them ready, give them what they need to hold their own. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that when you put your mind something... it gets done." He paused, watching her shift onto the island, the restless energy in her movements matching what he’d seen in her since they’d met.
The mention of their daughter, the one who knew him as nothing more than a familiar, had the vertically gifted man taking a slow step towards her, his gaze filled with battling emotions—anger, sadness, regret, guilt, defeat, fear, understanding. His daughter might've been oblivious to the parental tie, but his devotion to protecting her and the woman atop the island was unwavering. "You won't lose her." He was as certain about that as he was about anything. Regardless of what it cost him, even if it were his life, he'd protect them, he'd protect her.
