A/N Sorry it's been so long since I updated, but here is chapter 12. It's election day!!
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"Today's the day," Michonne said from her spot beneath the covers. She heard Rick rise awhile earlier, leaving their bed and taking his body heat with him as she sprawled into his vacated spot. Now she watched through hooded eyes as he came back from the bathroom, patting his newly shaven face with a towel, another one wrapped around his waist.
"It is," he replied.
"Are you ready?" she asked, her smile indicating her confidence in the outcome of the day.
Rick tossed the hand towel over his bare shoulder, taking a seat on the bed, and scratched the back of his head as he considered his answer. "I hope so," he settled on. "This job is what I've been workin' toward my whole career, but I've been reminded the last few weeks that I haven't always made the right calls." Michonne sat up, pulling the sheet up with her to cover her naked chest, and he turned his body toward her, looking her in the eye. "Do you think I can do this, Michonne? That I'm the right man for this job?"
"Absolutely," she said, as if she were declaring an indisputable doctrine. "We've all made mistakes, Rick, but you keep going. You always have, and today's the day you take what you've earned."
Rick's eyes turned resolute, her affirmation setting his heart right as he awaited the final culmination of year's worth of work, whatever that may be. He leaned in to kiss her, once on the lips, then moving downward. "I love you," he whispered against her skin, his warm breath drawing tiny pimples from her flesh.
She stroked the back of his head softly, wanting to keep his easily provoked curls looking presentable. "We've got an early start," she said, as he pushed away the blanket that kept her covered. He drew a line with his tongue down to her nipple, rolling it between his tongue and his teeth, before looking up at her with a grin.
"We've got time." He shifted his weight to his arms, placing them on either side of her, and pushed her backwards onto the bed with his chest. "Once more for good luck," he chuckled.
"You've got a long day ahead," she said with a mischievous smile. "You think you can handle another round, Sheriff?"
"Don't jinx me. You can call me Sheriff tonight."
"You're awfully superstitious today."
"I've had a run of good luck lately," he said, taking a moment to appreciate her form, splayed out before him. "I'm not ready for it to end."
He adjusted his position, one of his hands disappearing beneath the covers as he prepared to put an end to any doubts about his stamina. He wasn't being indulgent, he needed this, needed her. He never felt as confident or as capable as when he was connected to her, and before she could feign another protest he was buried inside her, leaving only a quiet moan to follow her playful snark. "I can handle it," he said to her parted lips and rolled back eyes.
"Rick," she barely eked out, her breath stolen by his slow strokes. He was being gentle with her now, after wearing her out the night before. His nerves were showing in his insatiable appetite, and though she could have used a little more sleep the night before a twelve hour day of working the polls, she could never turn him down when he sought her. She abandoned her previous inclination to keep his appearance preserved and gripped his hair tightly in her fist, letting him know she could take it if he needed to blow off some steam. He continued to go slow, though, taking his time as he rocked into her, languidly meandering the expanse of her neck with his lips. She wrapped a leg around his waist, guiding his movements with the tightening and releasing of her calf muscle and subsequent audible expressions of her appreciation. She had completely resigned to ignoring the clock in favor of her own gratification when she thought she heard footsteps in the hallway leading to their room.
"Dad?" they heard Carl call suddenly, his face obviously mere inches from their door.
Michonne froze, as Rick's face washed with irritation. He placed a finger over her lips, warning her with his eyes when she began to giggle. "Quiet," he whispered. "He'll think we're still asleep."
"Dad!" Carl yelled with more fervor, rapping his knuckles on the wooden barrier that separated them. "Your cell phone is ringing."
Michonne tried to slip away from Rick, feeling around the bed for her shirt, but he captured her hands, holding her wrists above her head. "Just leave it, Carl," he yelled. "I'll be out in a few minutes."
"What about breakfast?"
Rick dropped his head dejectedly onto Michonne's chest with a sigh and she wiggled her arms free of his loosened grasp. "I'll make you breakfast," she yelled through the door. "Just give me a minute."
"No," Rick pleaded, as she separated from him. "Michonne…"
She kissed him on the forehead before sliding out from under him, and he fell onto the mattress with a groan. "Sorry, baby. We'll finish this later." She grabbed her robe from the back of the chair beside their window, slapping his naked ass with a chuckle as he lay motionless, and she brushed past him to make herself presentable. "Get dressed."
"I think I need another shower," he muttered into the pillow. "A cold one."
Michonne slipped out of the door to greet Carl in the hallway. "Hey, kid," she said with a soft jab to his arm. "What do you want to eat?"
He followed her lead into the kitchen and took a seat at the island while she perused the contents of the fridge. "Whatever."
"You could have made yourself whatever," she joked, pulling out a carton of eggs and what she deemed 'the boys milk', the non organic, full dairy kind.
"That looks good," he shrugged. "Dad's cell phone has been ringing for the past hour."
Michonne set the breakfast items on the counter and frowned, crossing to where Rick had tossed his jacket the night before. "It's probably just well-wishers for election day," she said, fishing his phone out of the pocket. She typed in his pass code and a list of missed calls appeared, one from Maggie, one from Rebeccah and one from a number she didn't recognize. She set it aside, leaving it for Rick to handle when he finally emerged.
He did appear a few moments later, when she had gotten back to her cooking, and she chuckled when she saw his hair was wet again, indicating he had actually gotten back in the shower. "Feel better?" she snickered, as he came up behind her to see what she was making.
"Looks like I'm out of debt at least."
"You missed some calls," she said, gesturing to where she had dropped his cellphone.
Rick retrieved it, pushing a few buttons and holding it up to his ear. She watched as he quickly cut off the first two voicemails with the delete button, then listened intently to the third. He wandered over to the television as the message played, powering it on and changing to the local news station. It was a commercial, so he ended the call and pulled up the station's website on his phone. "Huh," he muttered as he read.
"What is it?" She stopped her meal prep again, to Carl's chagrin, and came to stand in front of Rick.
"Merle," he said, his eyes still on the screen. "Looks like he pulled off of Gregory's campaign last night...publicly."
"How publicly?"
"Called the local news, gave a statement." He looked up then, squinting at Michonne. "The voicemail was from Dale Horvath, though."
Michonne quirked an eyebrow at him.
"He said he had a theory. This thing with Merle got him speculatin' about somethin' he thinks we should look into."
"You should call Shane," she said. "You're not a detective today."
"Alright," he agreed reluctantly, taking off into the other room to dial his friend's number. "I'll hand it off."
It was quarter past eight when Michonne and Rick arrived at the campaign office, after dropping Carl off at school. They were fifteen minutes later than they had promised, but Maggie greeted them cheerfully, regardless.
"Sorry," Michonne said, crossing the room to embrace their friend at her desk.
"Big day!" Maggie drawled, waving off the apology as she stood to hug Rick as well. She had her short hair pulled halfway up and a twenty ounce coffee in her hand. Her usual collection of heels and cowboy boots had been passed over for a pair of sneakers and her small frame almost disappeared under an oversized sweatshirt with Glenn's Alma Mata imprinted on it. "I've got three teams in town right now stationed at the polling places and the town square. Loaded 'em up with signs and coffee and they're ready to go." She handed them each a sheet of paper with a volunteer schedule printed out. "Shift change is at one. Michonne, I'll need you back here to help with that."
Michonne nodded, reaching for Rick's hand as Maggie turned her sights on him. "Your first order of business is to go cast your vote," she said. "I called my friend at the news station and asked him to be on hand to make sure he got a picture. I'd like you to be as visible as possible today, and keep that million dollar smile plastered on your face," she joked, tapping her fingers on his cheek. "I want 'em to see this Rick Grimes, not the one Gregory and Merle are talking about."
"Speaking of that," Michonne interjected. "I assume you heard the news."
"I did!" she exclaimed. "Who woulda guessed Merle had a conscience?"
"Michonne guessed," Rick said, causing Maggie to look back and forth between them questioningly before jumping to the next point on her list.
"Okay," she said. "You two go vote, then make it back here and I'll put you to work."
"So, how many you think in, say...a month's time?" Shane asked, his elbow resting casually on the formica countertop at the back of the empty pharmacy. After Rick had filled him in on Dale's request to meet, he'd picked up Daryl and driven there to follow up on what Dale had claimed was an interesting coincidence. Now they were huddled together, flipping through a printed out list of prescriptions that the man had provided, all of which bore the same surgeon's name.
"Well, it's enough to draw attention!" Dale exclaimed. "Look, let's just say there's either a huge increase in broken bones and torn rotator cuffs in town, or something's not right. I've been in this line of business a long time, and lived in this town a lot longer. I know the trends, and Anderson's field just doesn't do this volume of business in a population like this. Besides, we're taught to look for prescription fraud these days. I can't imagine Pete isn't aware of that. He must have thought he was being more careful than he was."
"So what tipped you off all of a sudden?" Daryl was standing with his arms folded across his chest, reading over Shane's shoulder. "Seems like these go back awhile."
"I woke up this morning," Dale explained, "turned on the news, and there's your brother telling the story about how he's decided to retract his statement about Rick and end his affiliation with Gregory, and I thought: what's it take for a guy like that...no offense…" Daryl shrugged off the inference and nodded for him to continue. "What's it take for a guy like that to go out of his way to endorse a candidate in a local election in the first place?"
"Money," Daryl said. "We already figured that part out."
"Ok, then," Dale said, "a gig's a gig even for your brother, so why all of a sudden do a 360?"
"What're you gettin' at, man?" Shane asked, impatiently.
Daryl, however, watched the man quietly as he worked it out in his head. Dale was about to figure out who was behind Merle and Gregory's friendship. Pete's payment to Merle was already part of their working knowledge on the case, but maybe, once he knew the who, Dale could give them the why.
"I'm saying we all know what Merle's main occupation is and it isn't muffler work. And a guy like Gregory doesn't get involved with a guy like Merle casually, especially fresh off a stint in prison." Dale leaned forward, his hands resting on the opposite side of the counter from where Shane was scowling at him, and continued walking them through his thought process. "Now, I also started noticing a pattern," he said. "Pete is quiet, doesn't say a word about Grimes when it comes up, and you can bet the race came up more than once at our Chamber meetings. These are political guys, guys with big opinions and big wallets, but while everyone else is throwing around the numbers of their latest campaign contributions, Pete's staying rather conspicuously out of the fray. Never says a word, and he's been pretty vocal about Rick before. It was just odd to say the least. Anyway, Gregory's tied to Merle, Merle's tied to drugs and I've got a whole lotta drugs being prescribed by the local surgeon who's suddenly afraid to have an opinion, or so much as show his face at any of these campaign events."
Shane and Daryl shared a glance. It seemed Dale and they had been working two sides of the same problem and had just met in the middle.
"So you think the three of 'em are involved here? Gregory too?" Shane asked, trying to work out a motive for the menage a trois.
"I think there's a connection there, yes." Dale smiled, satisfied with his conclusion.
"So what about the guys filling the scripts?" Daryl asked, realizing they were still missing a link in the chain. "These people you know?"
"Some," Dale answered, "but not most."
"Give us some names," Shane said. "We'll start running 'em."
"I can't do that, gentlemen. That's private medical information. I can't hand it out without seeing a warrant."
"Well then, how the hell you expect us to follow up on this?" Daryl asked, sensing the dam had just been erected and the flow of information was about to stop short.
"Get your warrant," Dale said. "It will be here waiting."
Just as Dale was packing the inventory sheet back into a folder for safe keeping, the bell on the front door rang and two grey haired women wandered into the pharmacy, stealing his attention away. The two deputies nodded a goodbye before showing themselves out with only Dale's story to take along with them.
"Pete and Merle, man. That's an odd couple if I ever seen one," Shane said, when they pushed back out onto the street, away from Dale and his customers.
"Doc's got a side business going, for sure," Daryl said. "But Merle don't play with pharmaceuticals, it's not his style. He's a street drugs guy."
"You think it's a coincidence? We already know they know each other if Pete's paying him."
"I'm just sayin' we're missing something here."
"We already cleaned up the street business," Shane said, scratching the back of his head as they started back to the cruiser. "Put 'em all in jail a few years ago," "Maybe Merle's adapting to the changing climate."
"So Anderson's dealing 'scripts and Merle's organizing them being filled and peddled?" Daryl shook his head. "I'm tellin' ya man, it's too much work. Merle sells weed, occasionally he plays around with hallucinogens, some PCP, he's no bigger than some of the kid's at the local high school. He was running a racket like this, he'd be living a lot better."
"Alright, I'll give you that."
"'Sides, we still ain't figured out where Gregory fits in. We need to know if Pete and Merle are in on this together or Pete's just got him on the line for the campaign. Either way, can't have been too good for their friendship for Merle to bail on Election Day."
Shane shrugged, opening the door to the car and sliding behind the wheel. "Think Merle will give up any more, now that he's burned that bridge?"
"One way to find out," Daryl said, reaching for a pack of cigarettes and tapping them on his palm.
"Rick let you smoke in the car?" Shane asked, eyeing his temporary partner skeptically.
"Nah, but this is your car."
Shane shook his head and turned the key. "Let's go see your brother."
"There's the camera guy Maggie knows," Michonne whispered as they got out of Rick's car and met around the back. She reached for his hand, straightening his collar with the other. The parking lot at the local V.F.W. post was full of early morning commuters trying to get their ballot cast on the way to work, and the spot they chose gave them a bit of a long trek to the door, in the chilly November air.
Rick nodded, resigned to a day of forced showmanship. Gregory was probably in his element, he thought, arriving at his own polling place like he was walking the red carpet. Rick wasn't a limelight guy; he wanted to get this thing done and start making a difference for the community, but as Maggie and Michonne reminded him on a daily basis, this was what was going to afford him that opportunity.
They approached the front door and were greeted by a handful of supporters. Some were there working for candidates in other local races, but they took a moment to shake his hand and extend their well wishes as he passed. Michonne was beaming at him when he glanced in her direction. She was proud and that was enough to keep him trudging through the day.
Maggie's friend greeted them from across the room, offering his hand once they had made their way through the lobby of the building to where the various news media were stationed. "Rick, good to see you," the man said, shaking his hand and then Michonne's. "You have a lot of support out here today."
"Thanks, Cal," Rick replied, nodding at the other reporters. "Good to see you, too."
"Maggie told me you'd be here around this time. Gotta get a picture of all the candidates voting for the afternoon news. May I?"
Rick turned to Michonne offering a forced smile that made her laugh and she joined him as the photogenic counterweight to his stiff pose, reflective of his rank. The cameras flashed in quick succession, the other reporters wanting their own shot and happy to find the opportunity presenting itself.
"This is good," Cal said, checking the tiny screen on his camera to assess his work. "Hey, heard Greg was headed over to the local diner to shake some hands. Any chance of an impromptu run in? Would make a great headline shot." Cal smiled an eagerly opportunistic grin aimed mostly at Michonne, as Maggie had clued him in on who was really in charge.
Unfortunately for Cal, Michonne knew the potential fireworks between the two rivals far outweighed the political optics of the meeting, and she just shook her head sympathetically. "I think we're headed to the other side of town," she said, graciously.
"Alright," the young reporter shrugged. "Good luck in there." He nodded over his shoulder through the double doors at the bank of voting booths, all of them full and with a growing line at the check in.
"Thanks," Rick said, his hand finding the small fo Michonne's back as he led her away from the group. He was already eager to get behind the curtain for the moment of solitude it would afford him to collect some of his thoughts. Despite his own chock full schedule, the mention of his opponent's whereabouts had his mind wandering back to the phone call he had received from Dale. It was interesting and timely, he thought, and he couldn't help that he was itching to get his hands on more details. More than that, the fact that his comrades were out there working a case while he was smiling for photo ops was exactly the part of this that he hated. "Let's get this done," he whispered to her as they walked to the table set up at the entrance. "I wanna check in with Shane."
Shane glanced down at his cell phone in the center console, alerting him to yet another call from Rick, as he pulled into the lot of Merle's shop. His friend was as impatient as it gets, he thought. He felt for Rick, knowing it was killing him to be relegated to the behind the scenes work on this case, but neither of them had the time to keep in constant contact today. He ignored the call as they exited the cruiser, and silenced his phone before shoving it in his pocket for the good of both of them.
"Hey, Merle!" Daryl shouted, as the two deputies entered the empty shop. They scanned the waiting room and front desk with no signs of Daryl's brother. "He's probably out back," Daryl said, leading the way.
They pushed through the door leading to the garage bay and found Merle with his head buried in an engine, his loud music muffling their footsteps. "Hey!" Daryl said again, and Merle popped up from his task like a prairie dog, looking left then right.
He stood slowly when he spotted their uniforms, taking a good look behind them and then at all of the other entrances before he acknowledged his brother. "Sure am getting a lot of visitors around here lately," Merle said, wiping his hands off on his coveralls and coming around to where they stood.
"Be pretty lonely if you didn't," Shane smirked. "Don't see any customers."
"I'm the loner type, Walsh. You know that. Course, I have to say, I preferred Grimes' little woman to your two ugly mugs."
Shane and Daryl shared a glance, each pondering why Michonne would have been here, and then whether or not Rick knew about it.
"Aw, she didn't tell you we're friends now?" Merle laughed. "I'm hurt." He leaned against the side of the car he was just working on and crossed his arms. "What do you two want?"
"Got some more questions for you 'bout your arrangement with Pete Anderson."
"I already told you about that, little brother. Man offered me some cash to talk about my personal experiences with the screws loose in Grimes' head. Just a job, no harm meant."
"So why'd you quit that job this morning?" Shane asked. "Odd timing."
"As you can see, I have a business to run, boys." Merle gestured with an open palm to the deserted shop. "Turns out I didn't have time for moonlighting."
"Bull shit," Daryl said, irritated at the time they were wasting. "You ain't turning down cash, Merle. And you got all the time in the world."
"Look politics ain't my thing," Merle said, defensiveness starting to creep into his voice. "I got bored real quick. Bunch a pompous assholes going on about who's the biggest asshole. Rick, Gregory, what do I care? It wasn't worth it."
"But Anderson cared, right? That's why he paid you?" Shane took a step closer and set his hands on his gun belt as he inspected Merle's visage. "We got reason to believe he's making his way into your territory. Maybe he's cuttin' in on your other business, that's why you didn't want to help him out anymore?"
"Why you guys always worried about my financial interests?" Merle scoffed. "You think Anderson's crossed a line, why don't you go talk to him?"
"Cause we think you're working with him. Or were. Maybe the deal went south?"
Merle laughed again, meandering back to the open hood of the car, and retrieving a wrench. He set about tinkering with the engine block while Shane and Daryl continued to stare at him.
"You're barking up the wrong tree, boys. As usual. Anderson paid me for one job, that's the extent of my dealings with him...but I ain't the only guy in town. You know that too. You locked me up and shit went down just like I told you it was gonna. Ya'll think you cleaned up your mess, but all a boat needs is one little hole, made by one little prick, and it's taking on water again."
"Same water as before?" Daryl asked, deciding to play along with the metaphorical gibberish if it made Merle feel important enough to give them a few more details.
"Same source."
"And that's who Anderson is teaming up with? You hook 'em up?"
"I don't know what Anderson is doing," Merle lied. "But whatever it is, he ain't doing it with me. He asked me to be his go between, but I told him I wasn't interested in doing his dirty work. And seems to me he didn't need no introductions; he had his own connections. Y'all made Anderson a part of your little task force years ago. Gave him a line to the inside intel. You wanna see how he got hooked up, start there." Merle popped his head up again with a self-satisfied grin. "Hey, now," he said, "maybe I should come get a job with ya'll for my next venture."
"Don't count on it," Shane said, turning to Daryl. "Still don't give us Gregory's part in all this; why Pete cares so much about who wins this race."
"Seems like a safer bet to have your buddy in charge of you glorified security guards, than Grimes," Merle offered from inside the hood of the car. "You know, if Anderson's got something going on he don't want looked into."
"Who says Pete and Gregory are buddies?" Daryl said. "The guy don't seem to know nobody in this town, besides his campaign staff."
"I don't know, bro," Merle said. "I heard 'em talking when they were giving me my script for my public appearances. Sounded like those two clowns came from the same circus once upon a time."
Shane furrowed his brow, intrigued by this new piece of information, and he gestured to Daryl to wrap up the conversation.
"A'ight, Merle," Daryl said. "We'll be back if any of this don't check out. I hope for your sake you ain't workin' with that asshole. Hate to have to throw you back on the inside right along with him."
"You carry on, Deputies," Merle said, waving a dismissive hand at them. "You call me if you need any more help doing your jobs."
Shane led the way back out through the office and into the deceptively sunny parking lot, zipping his jacket against the chill as he watched Daryl light another cigarette. "Might be traceable," he said. "How Pete and Gregory hooked up, and when."
Daryl drew in a long hit of tobacco smoke, blowing it out as he answered. "Might be."
"And now that we know Pete's accomplice is one of the same guys as before, we can start looking into them, see if any of them are out of prison yet."
"Same source," Daryl said, repeating Merle's words out loud. "Gareth is the source. We know he's still locked up, and probably most of his guys we busted, but let's just see who's been on his visitor sheet."
"Gotta get a warrant to match a name to the prescriptions Dale is talking about."
"I think I know a judge who might help me out with that."
"Guess we're splitting up, then," Shane said. "Save your next smoke till you get in your own car."
"Deputy Dixon!" Judge King's voice boomed against the marble surfaces of the courthouse lobby. He strode across the shiny, stone floor, clapping a hand on Daryl's back when he reached the desk where he was waiting.
"Your honor," Daryl replied. "This mean you got a minute to chat?"
"Of course," the judge said, extending his hand for the affidavit that Daryl had brought. "Let's walk and talk. I have a session coming up."
Daryl followed the man down a long corridor to the section of the building where the judge's had their chambers, while King scanned the file. "This is interesting," he said, while he read.
"It is," Daryl replied, "and I need the warrant in a rush. Think you can help me out?"
King stopped, folding his arms and offering a jovial grin. "Seems I have become the go to man for the department when any of you need a favor."
"Yeah, well, I just need a signature, nothing more. We got the probable cause."
"That you do."
"Look, I know you wanted to help Rick out with his thing," Daryl said. "I also know why you didn't. This will help him too. Warrant's to look into Dr. Anderson, but there's more to it, and there's a reason I want it done today."
"Alright, Dixon," Judge King said. "Say no more. I can sign it today." He glanced at his wristwatch then back up at Daryl. "Good luck on this."
Michonne plopped down in the rolling chair at her desk and Rick took Maggie's seat, watching her pace the room with her cellphone to her ear. They'd been at every key spot in town twice over and, as the morning turned to afternoon, she felt as if they'd already put in a full day.
Unlike their star organizer, most of Michonne's duties for the day were carried out in public, and her feet were already sore from beating the pavement in her high heels. She kicked them off under the desk and rubbed the soles of her stockinged feet one at a time. They were five hours into a twelve hour day, that was hopefully going to be followed by a victory party that would last well into the night, and she was in desperate need of a caffeine refill.
Rick motioned for her to hand over her task, and she rolled the chair closer to him, setting her feet in his lap. "Feels like a lot of just bein' seen today," he said, rolling the ball of her foot between his fingers. "There's gotta be more to do."
"You're getting antsy?" she asked.
"I don't like sittin' around."
"Most of the works been done," she said, running the foot that he wasn't massaging up and down his thigh. "Now we wait...and bring sandwiches to the volunteers." She gestured to the table of lunch items that she and Maggie had prepared for the shift change of sign holders and hand shakers. "You should eat."
Rick lifted the bottom of her foot to his lips, then released her. "I'll get you a plate," he said, standing to cross the room just as the front door swung open.
"Hey," Daryl grunted as he and Shane sauntered through the door. "Looks like we're just in time."
Rick took a detour from the buffet table to greet his two friends instead. "You sign up for this shift so you could get a free lunch?" Rick joked, standing before the two men with his hands on his hips.
"Nah," Daryl said. "Forgot I was even on the list." He flashed a grin at Maggie and she glared at him from her spot leaning against the wall. "We came for somethin' else."
"That's right," Shane said with a grin. "Got a gift for you for your big day."
"And what might that be," Michonne said, padding over to where they stood.
"Anderson's head on the proverbial plate," Shane said. "Oh, and Gregory's downfall for dessert."
Maggie was keeping an ear on the conversation and she quickly hung up her phone when she heard them mention Gregory. "What do you mean?" she asked, as she joined the circle they had made, mimicking Rick's stance.
"Seems Anderson got a lot more out of that task force assignment few years back than we thought," Daryl said. "Deanna picked the wrong asshole to trust with the details of the case."
Michonne rolled her eyes at Daryl's inability to play nice with her boss, even after Rick had considered it water under the bridge. "What exactly did he get?"
"Names, opportunities...mostly ideas," Shane answered.
"Remember Gareth's last ditch proposition? Right before he shot you?" Daryl asked Rick. "You look the other way, and he cuts you in?"
"I remember."
"Seems Pete was inspired by it. Gave him the idea to cash in his own services, mostly his prescription pad. Gotta hand it to him, it's ballsy."
"Gareth is in jail," Rick said, still not following.
"He's still running the show from his cell to some degree," Daryl explained. "Pete approached one of Gareth's guys just after the names and transcripts made their way to the group debrief."
"Merle tell you that?
"He gave us the basics. Been doing a little digging around at the doctor's patient list and a few familiar names appeared."
"And you can trust what Merle says?" Maggie asked with a raised eyebrow.
"He's got a vested interest as usual. He took the cash to tell his sob story 'bout his run in with Rick, but even before Michonne went and talked to him," Daryl said, cutting her a look that Maggie joined in on, "I think he knew his days at the top were numbered when Pete started asking him to be a go between for him and Gareth in an effort to keep his hands out of the day to day. He ain't Wall Street material, but Merle knows when he's about to get screwed in a business deal. Gareth's guys cut into his business once before, and Pete was giving them a key back in the door and handing them a much bigger product to push."
"How exactly did Pete think he could get away with that?" Rick scoffed. "I've got eyes on all their suppliers?"
Michonne gasped, her hands coming to her mouth. "Gregory! That's why he wants him to win the seat."
"Nah," Shane said, "that's why he got Gregory to run. He didn't just come out of nowhere like we thought; Pete tapped him for the job. The two were classmates back in their undergrad days; frat brothers actually. Far as we can tell, they connected up through some online Alumni networking group. We'll need another warrant to pull the direct messages, but we can track exactly when contact was made just through the open forum part of the site."
"Don't think this was the type of thing they were banking on when the school decided to help their grads keep in touch," Daryl grinned.
"So Anderson set this whole thing up, what? A year ago?" Rick asked, doing the math in his head as to when Gregory appeared on their radar.
"More than that," Shane said. "He started his dealing with Gareth before he was even behind bars. Seems he only thought to bring Gregory in once he saw the writing on the wall that you were gonna replace Dion. Probably knew Gareth's guys wouldn't be too thrilled 'bout doin' business in a place where the head law enforcement official had a personal beef with them. They got plenty of other places to deal in."
"So Pete was afraid his partnership was going to dry up if Rick got elected, so he tried to put his own guy in charge to make sure the coast was clear." Michonne said, as she followed along.
"That's right," Shane said. "Funny thing is, one thing that actually blew his cover was pretending he didn't know Gregory. If he had been out there campaigning on the street with the guy, it woulda looked like one blowhard supporting another, but he went out of his way to avoid supporting him in public, people started to notice."
"What people?" Rick asked.
"Horvath," Daryl said, knowing Shane wasn't giving the proper credit. "Put two and two together between the prescriptions and Pete's odd behavior. Once Merle appeared on Gregory's payroll, he'd almost figured it out himself."
"That's what he wanted us to look into?" Rick asked, sharing a glance with Michonne.
"He gave us the missing piece: Pete's interest. Merle confirmed a few things. Gave us enough to take 'em down."
Rick was quiet as he scratched his fingers along his jaw, everyone's eyes trained on him, waiting for a reaction. After a few minutes, a smile began to creep onto his face. "I guess there's only one question left, then," he said, his eyes giving him away. "Should we arrest him at his campaign office? Or wait to catch him at the polls?"
Daryl and Shane let out a chuckle as Maggie struggled to keep hers intact. Michonne didn't laugh, though. "Rick," she said, coming to stand in front of him and capturing his focus from the rest of the group. "Wait."
"What is it?" he asked, looking down at her with confusion.
"You're gonna win this thing," she said. "Don't let it be with an asterisk next to your name." She placed both her palms on his chest and glanced over her shoulder at Maggie. "The evidence will still be there tomorrow. Win tonight, on your own merits, then make Pete and Gregory your first order of business."
"She's right," Maggie agreed. "You've earned this. People shouldn't think you won by default."
Rick tore his eyes away from Michonne to look at his two fellow officers. Shane had his head hung, but he was peering up at him with a cocky smile. Daryl gave him a single nod. "It'll still be there tomorrow," his partner agreed.
"If I don't win," he started, "this thang gets a whole lot more complicated. Election will be over, we'll probably have to start a whole new campaign."
"You're gonna win," Maggie said.
"Rick," Michonne whispered, tugging on the collar of his shirt to pull his face to hers. "We've got this. This is where you show everyone once and for all."
Rick studied the determination in Michonne's eyes and the convincing smiles on the rest of their faces. "Alright," he agreed with a nod. "Tomorrow then."
The polls closed at seven o'clock and the large group that had been gathered since happy hour, slowly began to turn their attention to the television screens above Morgan's bar, as he flipped each one to a different local news station.
The sudden change from ambient music to political banter stole Rick's attention, and he tilted his head upward from his perch on a stool, to take a look at the first reports. There were quite a few local races going on in the state, and all of them were being covered, but a scrolling banner at the bottom of the screen was keeping them apprised of the the early numbers for everyone.
"You should really be mingling," Michonne said as she snuck up behind him, and pressed against his back. She peered over his shoulder at his short glass of scotch, and he handed it to her.
"You're nervous," he said, noting the way she barely reacted to a gulp of harsh liquid.
"I'm not," she promised. "I'm excited."
Rick nodded, taking his drink back. "Another few hours, our world's gonna change. You ready?" he asked, repeating her question from the morning.
"It won't be the first time my life was changed at this bar," she said quietly, her voice thick with adoration for the man she was eyeing.
He smiled back at her reaching a hand out to her waist to pull her in between his legs. "You and me, Michonne," he said. "Everything I have, I have because of us." He leaned in to kiss her lips as chastly as he could, since they had a large audience.
The very first percentage signs started to appear on the television and when Rick's name came up at three percent to Gregory's zero, the crowd let out an exuberant cheer. Rick chuckled against Michonne's ear. "It's gonna be a long night," he said.
"Hey, Michonne," Carl said, appearing in Rick's line of sight when he pulled away. "You wanna shoot some darts?"
Rick shook his head of all the comments on the tip of his tongue and Michonne eyed him knowingly. "Of course I do," she said, fixing to pull out of Rick's grasp. "But he's not invited."
"Nope," Carl said, smirking at his father before leading her away.
He watched them wander to the otherside of the bar, then spotted Glenn and Abraham headed his way. He lifted his glass to them in greeting.
""Nother round, sir," Abraham called loudly to Morgan, when he reached the bar, and the barman happily complied. "How you feelin' about Gregory's impending ass kicking, Deputy?" He slapped Rick on the back and pulled a trio of cigars from his shirt pocket, passing them around.
"Let's not count any chickens yet," Rick countered with practiced humility, but the truth was he was starting to feel more confident by the minute. Michonne was right, it was beginning to look like a sure thing. As soon as he'd spoke, another cheer echoed through the crowd and he glanced at the newest update; he'd picked up another few percentage points.
"Come on, man," Glenn said, running the tobacco underneath his nose with a long sniff, as if he had been doing it for years. Rick didn't miss the slight crinkle to his face at the bitter scent. "We were out there all day. You got this in the bag."
"That's right," Abe said. "This town belongs to Rick Grimes."
Rick shook his head at his dramatic friend, moving on to the fresh shot Morgan had placed in front of him.
Abe took his as well, holding it up as if he was going to toast, before he paused. "Where're Dixon and Walsh? This is supposed to be a victory party. Let's get it started."
"They'll be along." He knew both men were probably back at the station finishing up the last of the paperwork so that either Pete, or Gregory, or both could be taken in first thing in the morning. Glancing around, he figured that must be where Andrea was as well. Even so, the room was packed and he was a bit overwhelmed at the crowd that had assembled on a Tuesday night to hopefully share in his victory. He saw Sasha and Rosita chatting with Michonne near the dart board where his son was taking his shot. Tara who had seemingly worked her way into the game, was standing beside him. Francine was chatting with Carol who was behind the bar helping keep up with the buzzing crowd. Even his mother, who was approaching her bedtime, was sitting quietly in a booth talking with Maggie and Hershel. Everyone he knew, and a lot of people he didn't, had practically filled the place to capacity.
He felt the rush of cold air on his back when the front door opened, and he turned, expecting to see Shane and Daryl finally appear. Instead, what he saw had him practically leaping off of his bar stool, and heading for the entrance. Shelly was pushing her way through the crowd with Enid behind her and a bundled up baby Judith in her arms. Rick watched the little pom pom on the baby's hat bounce as Shelly carried her past a group of people and met him in the middle of the room. He glanced around for Michonne and caught her rushing toward them too, having spotted the trio as they arrived.
"Shelly," Rick said, reaching out to cup Judith's head with a tender caress. "What are you doing here?"
Michonne and Carl joined them then, wearing matching smiles.
"Hi Michonne. Hi Carl. Have any of you been home at all today?"
"Not since this morning," Michonne said, her smile turning to a worried frown.
"The notice of the hearing came in the mail!" Shelly said, bouncing the baby in her arms and beaming at the two. "It's in two weeks. Looks like she'll be yours by Thanksgiving."
Michonne brought her hands to her mouth, happy tears rushing her eyes. She turned to Carl, embracing him quickly, before diving into Rick's arms. Rick caught her, taking a couple of steps backward to steady himself. His own eyes began to well up and he wiped at them as he laughed and covered the top of her head with kisses. Michonne finally pulled away, turning back to Shelly and Judith. "Thank you so much for coming to tell us," she said, almost out of breath with excitement.
"Of course!" Shelly smiled. "It's a big night for your family. She should be here."
Rick and Michonne shared another look before Rick held his arms out to Judith. "May I?" he asked, and Shelly quickly handed her over.
Rick cradled the little bundle wrapped in white fleece in his arms as another cheer erupted from the crowd behind them. He couldn't take his eyes off of Judith's face to check the update, though, he was lost in her tiny blue eyes and rosy cheeks. Michonne reached over, stroking the baby's arm and watching Rick look the most content he had all day. "What did you say about our world changing?" she chuckled.
He smiled back, placing a kiss on Judith's forehead and then Michonne's. He reached for Carl with his free arm, pulling him into the little circle they had made, and the young man came willingly, settling into Michonne's side. "No matter what happens tonight," Rick said, tossing a nod at the still blaring TV, "no matter what happens tomorrow with Gregory or Pete...right here, right now, we've already won."