A/N: Yes finally, the showdown begins. I hope it didn't seem to too long getting here, but since it happened so quickly in canon, I didn't want to rush it.
After vacating the warehouse, the group headed for a creek that Gareth and Alex had recalled from their trip to the area. When they arrived, they stripped off their clothes and took turns bathing in the clear water.
Alex and Theresa took the last turn. The ground dipped low in a secluded area, so they had privacy from the rest while they bathed. Watching Alex scrub himself, Theresa was tempted to make a suggestive remark, but decided to hold back due to the awkwardness between them.
She was hesitant to remove her own clothes beyond her bra and underwear, despite others' promises to stay away. The thought of being naked in front of another man other than Alex frightened her.
She mentally counted off the men in the group: it would be awkward with Albert because she knew he had a crush on her. Martin because he was Martin. Gareth would be innocuous, but he was still male and even the idea made her shudder. Cynthia wouldn't bother her, since they'd shared the female showers at Terminus.
Yet the grime under her remaining clothes bothered her too much, and she decided to undress anyway. "Um," Theresa broke the silence just after Alex had redressed, pulling on his jacket, "I can't stand just washing half of me. Could you stand watch while I take off my clothes? Just in case?"
Alex nodded and stood up without a word.
"I am not going to be Albert's first naked woman," she attempted a joke as he trailed over and stared up the small hill.
Unless you count the women we butchered. She wouldn't. They appeared not as women anymore, but as objects to be dismantled.
Alex didn't respond. Being on the outs with her very best friend, especially now, pained her a great deal. She had to get him talking to her.
Pulling herself to her feet, she unhooked her bra before pulling off her underwear. She then knelt in the creek, splashing the water on her skin, catching the dirt and sending it back down in grey trickles.
Is he not even going to look? she thought of Alex's continued facing away from her.
Rising up on her knees to ensure her body was fully visible, she decided she'd try something salacious regardless of their rift. "Do I look like a siren? Or a mermaid?"
Alex turned around and his eyes skimmed her body up and down. "You look good." His lips curved into a slight smile—the first time since their argument— before turning back as quickly as he looked.
Even under the circumstances, she felt strange being unclothed in the presence of the perpetually horny Alex and getting a weak reaction. She lapped water onto her face, silently pouting.
After she finished washing and reclothed, she wished she still had the socks she used to stuff in Glenn and Maggie's mouths. A drop of satisfaction returned from memory of their inhaling and tasting the dirt and sweat from her soiled garments.
To prevent further blistering on her feet, she took an assortment of fresh green leaves and packed them in the back of her shoes. Even in the dead of "winter," green plants still grew plentiful in Georgia.
She then stood up and made her way to beside her husband to make another attempt at breaking the ice. "Hey, remember when we played that game where we pretended I was a mermaid who just got her legs?"
Alex breathed out a slight laugh and lowered his head. "Oh god, that's right." He turned around and rubbed at his forehead. "And I was the sailor who found you and taught you how to use your newfound holes. From that stupid anime porn I used to like, god. That was so stupid." He chuckled.
Theresa smiled, thankful she at last got more than a sentence out of him. Mentions of sex always got him talking.
He then took a deep breath, his face falling serious, and looked into her eyes. "I know... I know they killed mom. They killed everyone. They fucked everything. And I wanna get 'em too, okay? I really, really do after thinkin' about it, and about mom... I mean, we would've gotten 'em anyway. We'll get anyone we can. It's just, I couldn't stop thinkin' that..."
"They didn't laugh while they did it." She had reflected on Alex's reluctance, trying to get into his mindset when he said taunting them was pointless. What she came to realize was they were not the exact same as the Occupiers. In action, yes. In reason, no. And that was what bothered him.
"We never, ever had anything personal against any of 'em who came through. At least I didn't."
"And you think I do? Or... did?"
"I just know it's always been different for you, and how much you hated it when we first startin' lettin' new ones stay. Like Martin, who I insisted we give a shot. And you know, if I'd have known how much you would've turned out hatin' the guy, I would've never vouched for him."
"Like I said before, you were just being you."
"Cattle."
She took a step forward. "No, no. Hey, listen to me." She took his hands in hers. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that when I said it. I didn't mean you were cattle, I meant don't fall back into that trap. It's not like I'm immune to it either."
Alex scoffed. "Yeah, right."
"Yeah, right. You don't have to like it, or hold grudges like god knows I do. You just have to Gareth-up enough to keep going."
"I know that. That's what I've been doin' this whole damn time. And I'm fucking exhausted."
"I know, I know you are, but you have to keep going. Just enough to where the rest of the time we get to live. Like what you always tell me. For little things, like... like for how good the bath in the creek felt." She stared him in his weary eyes, noticing how beautiful they were even under distress.
He took a deep breath and said nothing for a few moments.
Please, please, please.
A firm squeeze to her hands let her know he agreed, the corners of his mouth twitching up. A smile broke out on her face and she squeezed back. Right before she moved in to hug him, Gareth's whistle cut through her thoughts. The scrawny rabbit Martin caught must be done cooking.
They then made their way back to the quick fire they'd rigged up to cook the animal, and sat beside one another on the ground before it.
The few bites of the meager, gamy flesh they were each given was a far cry from what they'd had the night before. And what they would have later.
"Don't take too much, Theresa," Gareth warned.
It was tough not to, despite its taste. She felt like she did in the early days where it seemed no amount of food could ever satiate her. When there were restrictions and controlled portions. She assumed everyone felt like that at the moment. Except maybe Martin, she didn't think he had ever truly been hungry.
"I'm ready for this game to be over," Martin declared, wiping his hands on his pants. The swelling on his face had begun to go down, but bruises lingered.
"And once we're done with them?" Albert asked, looking to Gareth.
"I told you," Gareth answered, standing up, "we're—" he grimaced in pain, reaching for his right shoulder.
"I knew you were lyin' when you said that was fine," Alex said.
"It is fine. I just...stretched it funny or something when I washed it earlier," he replied. "I told you, Albert, there will always be other places."
"I still think everywhere good's occupied," Cynthia remarked in a small voice.
"Then we'll take it."
Theresa noted Gareth's volatile mood. Even he was shaken by their two failures in a row.
"I don't think I can keep this down," Cynthia then muttered, her face having grown pale.
"What? No, don't throw it up!" Gareth exclaimed.
"Leave her alone, this meat's disgusting. I'm lucky I kept it down," Albert defended and placed his arm around her. Cynthia covered her mouth with her hand.
"Go down to the stream and get a rag wet. You can hold it on your throat," Theresa suggested.
Before anyone could reply, Cynthia bolted up and ran back down the slope side. Loud retching noises echoed up the creek cavity. Albert hopped up and jogged after her.
"Great," Gareth griped.
"Cut her a break. It's probably her nerves," Alex said.
"Mm-hm," Gareth replied, scratching the back of his head.
"We got time for a mini freak out."
Gareth sat back down on the ground. "Yeah, alright."
Albert then trudged back to the camp site. "She wants to be alone." He sat back down in his former spot.
"Fifteen minutes!" Gareth yelled in the direction of the creek.
Theresa then placed her hand over Alex's beside her, slipping her fingers between his and folding them under his palm. He reciprocated and folded his over hers. The pressure from her spouse's fingers reminded her of the weight on her chest, the one she had ignored. The one that crushed her with the fear that he might die later that night. Or she might. Or Gareth. Or Cynthia. Or Albert. Martin she wouldn't miss, of course.
She pondered, if later that night, they got into a situation where Martin were about to be killed and she could stop it or at least assist, then she could just let it happen. That is, if her purposeful lack of action wouldn't be witnessed. Although, that would be an enormous trust-break between her and Gareth, even if he didn't find out. She groaned internally knowing she'd save the infuriating outsider if she had to.
My god, but if Gareth died... what would they do without him? Or what if they all died? Or were taken captive? What would they do to them? She started to feel queasy, and swallowed roughly, not wanting to join Cynthia by the creek.
"Five minutes!" Gareth informed.
What?
How long have I been sitting here? She looked over to see her hand entwined with Alex's and instead saw her clenched fist on the brown leaves. Glancing up, she saw Alex kicking dirt over the fire. He, Albert, and Martin were helping clear the site.
When did he get up? When did he let go of my hand? Have I been sitting here for ten minutes?
"Theresa?" Gareth's voice sounded from beside her.
Her head jerked up. "What?"
"You're clearly not doing anything, go see if you can drag Cynthia back."
She nodded and stood up, then headed down to the creek bed. Cynthia sat at the bottom with her legs crossed, drawing designs in the wet sand with a stick.
Theresa strolled down and stopped next to her. "It's about time," she said.
"I heard," Cynthia replied without looking up.
"You are ready for this, right?"
Cynthia looked up condescendingly. "Does it look like I have a choice? Someone made that very clear."
"Well, that someone is right. Even if he is a dick."
Cynthia dropped the stick and stood up, staring with a dull expression.
Theresa shifted on her feet. "Hey um, while we're down here, I never got a chance to thank you for Alex. For helping him get out."
She shook her head. "I didn't help him, he helped me."
"No. You guys both helped get your asses out of there alive." She shook her head back.
Cynthia conceded, nodding slightly before clasping her hands together in front of her, looking at Theresa imploringly. "So... did you finally forgive me?"
Theresa narrowed her eyes. "For what?"
"Throwin' that vase at Alex," she muttered, ashamed.
She cracked-up. "That? I stopped thinking about that forever ago. You thought I was still mad?"
Cynthia rubbed at her neck. "Well, I still think about it. Does he have a scar?"
"A fading one."
"Oh, good," she sighed. "So... so can I give you a hug then?"
"Um... sure?"
Cynthia then rushed forward and squeezed her with all her being, making a small gasp escape from Theresa's lungs. The brunette lightly hugged the taller woman back, hoping the event would end soon.
"Ooh, when does the kissin' start?" Martin's obnoxious voice pierced Theresa's ears. They immediately separated to see Martin sauntering down the slope.
Would you just fucking die already?
"You're funny," Theresa bit.
"I just came to say get your guns. It's time to end this bullshit," Martin snapped back.
"Great, I'm starving," she declared as she and Cynthia walked past Martin up to the rest of the group.
Back at the campsite, she assisted her group in readying their supplies. Alex watched Gareth a bit more than she thought was usual, making her wonder why.
"Let's get this show on the road," Gareth proclaimed while he brandished the rifle in his hands.
The crickets were back. They chirped every night, no matter what, as if they hadn't noticed the world had turned inside out. Gareth always felt it odd that the sun still rose and set just as it had before the change. The earth never cried over what had happened. The insects still buzzed, the rain still fell from the clouds to the ground, and flowers still bloomed as if the world hadn't ended. Because the world hadn't ended. The rest of the earth went on just as it did before—forward.
Clutching Alex and weeping onto his head was a pause, not one nature experienced. However, Gareth didn't regret it. He felt more centered now that he had gotten the need for a stop out of his system. Now he could keep moving forward.
And move forward, he did.
It had just passed nightfall, and the minor fill he got from the rabbit meat had long gone, like its mediocrity had vaporized in his stomach. He already anticipated the taste of their prey's flesh as he and his group hiked their way to the church, assuming they were still there. Even if they weren't, they could track them to their next destination.
Voices floated from the small, white building as they traveled down the road. Gareth gestured to the woods beside them and they moved to gather in them, hidden. He then tiptoed forward and ducked down, giving him a nice view through the greenery to the front of the building.
He spotted Michonne, Sasha, Glenn, Maggie, Tara, Abraham, and a man he couldn't make out. Sliding a few inches closer, he saw something in the unknown man's belt glint off the moonlight.
Is that?
The machete with the red handle. It was Rick. Of course it was Rick.
He swallowed, his throat dry, and heart picking up speed. Why was he taken aback by this?
Was it the utter certainty the man had had that he would come out on top when less than a minute away from his death? Daryl, Glenn, and Bob had the fear of god in their eyes back on the killing floor, yet Rick didn't. In fact, Gareth could nearly see his own imagined death reflected back at him through Rick's eyes.
Just for a fraction of a second, he saw himself hacked, bloody, and limp from the slice of the blade Rick spoke of. The idea was just so preposterous at the time, like a flea promising a lion of its revenge, that he had to laugh. It was now clear the seriousness of his former captive's promise was true.
But that was okay, Rick could think what he wanted.
The rival group then started moving east.
Perfect.
"Alright, we'll hang a little bit," Gareth whispered, and backed up a step.
He then turned to survey the expressions of his people, beginning with Cynthia. Her alert eyes were paired with a frown, nervousness permeating her features. He stared at her long enough for her to look back, she gave a stern nod.
Theresa looked eager, fingers tapping on the barrel of her gun as she stood on her toes for a better view.
Alex, whom Gareth expected to look terrified, looked focused. Maybe he found that switch again. The one he flipped the night they butchered their captors and stripped one of their torsos.
Albert looked about the same Cynthia. Although, he stood in the back, not seeming to be as interested in watching their prey depart.
Martin looked as eager as Theresa, some of which likely being because he had been promised Tyreese the super nanny. That wasn't to say he entirely trusted the guy, he never had. He could easily see Martin stabbing each of them in the back if it kept him alive, but he had never had a reason to. And Gareth made sure of that.
Many minutes crawled by as they waited for the group to get far enough away. Then, they finally emerged from the woods and began to advance down the road.
The church's windows were dark, but oh, there were people home.
"Alex, don't forget," Gareth whispered, reminding him of his special task—to paint the letter A on the building.
A/N: What do you guys think of the characters? Just general opinions on them themselves, likes, dislikes etc.