Author's Note: Prepare for some aggressive drama! R&R! xoxo
"He is a man of courage who does not run away, but remains at his post and fights against the enemy." ― Socrates
In the five days since the party at Deanna's, everyone seemed to finally be assimilating smoothly into the community. They had fallen into daily routines akin to life before, and started their new jobs and gotten to know the others a lot more. Georgie had even met with Reg one afternoon to help him weld one of the inside panels of the wall that looked iffy and they discussed, over lunch in his kitchen, the possibility of adding a second layer of wall around the community's perimeter, just to be better safe than sorry.
That same afternoon, after his morning lessons, Tristan had asked to paint at the art easel in the living room, so Georgie told him to either take his shirt off so he didn't get paint all over it or to go up into his father's closet to find an old T-shirt to put over his own clothes like an art smock.
George had set up the paints and poured water into a cup and laid some paper towels down near the easel so it would be easy for Tristan to clean his brushes as he went and then she just sat there waiting for him to come back downstairs.
She was waiting at the front window, holding a cup of coffee in her hands, watching Carl taking Judith for a walk in her stroller and when the young teen happened to look up at her house and see her, he smiled and waved. Georgie waved back as well and then turned back toward the kitchen, wondering what was taking Tristan so long.
"Tris!" she called up. "Did you find a shirt? You can just take off what you're wearing if you can't find anything.
Worried that he wasn't answering, she had gone upstairs and peered into Jake's room but found it empty, so she went into Tristan's room where she found him lying on his bed, crying into his pillow.
"Honey, what's wrong?" she asked as she sat down on the edge of his bed, rubbing soothing circles into his back.
"I don't want to paint anymore," he mumbled.
"Alright, that's fine. You don't have to. But please tell me what's got you so upset."
"I miss my friends."
"From before?"
Tristan nodded his head and turned his face to the side. "My friends from the big house that were in Cub Scouts with me," he replied with tears staining his face. "They were killed by those bad men, weren't they?"
Georgie knew her son had been there and heard the gunshots, but had gotten away from that house in Greensboro with the aid of some woman named Melissa that had been part of the group he'd been traveling with. She had also been sure he had not been actual witness to the murders that happened there. But Tristan wasn't dumb. He knew what a dark place the world had become. He had seen walkers and what they were capable of, and apparently he was just as aware of what regular men could do to each other. So, there was no sense in lying to him about what really happened.
"Yes, honey," she nodded. "I'm sorry. Those men that were shooting in that house killed your friends, and I'm so sorry. They were very bad men and I'm just glad you got away when you did."
Tristan was shaking suddenly in fear and Georgie leaned down over him to pull him up into her arms and hold him close.
"Tristan, is something else bothering you about that? Did you see what those bad men did?"
Tristan shook his head. "I didn't see them kill anyone. I just heard it," he replied. "But I saw what one of them was wearing."
"What was he wearing?"
"A red, Atlanta Braves baseball cap," he said, burying his face into his mother's chest. "I didn't see his face, though. It was too dark. But I heard him yelling at the others. They asked what to do about the people sleeping in the beds, and he said to just shoot 'em all."
"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry." She wrapped her arms tighter around him and kissed the top of his head. "You don't have to worry about that now. You're safe with me here. And there are plenty of people who will help keep you safe."
Tristan was silent for a few moments before looking up at his mother. "Mom?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I go ride my bike?"
Georgie smiled comfortingly. "Yeah, you can."
Climbing off his bed, he slowly walked out of his room and left Georgie rather perplexed about his sudden burst of fear and worry. She wondered why it hit him out of the blue. What had reminded him of it? Was it something that was always on his mind that he was trying to deal with and had been good at hiding?
In the days that had followed, her son seemed the same; nervous and quiet. For the most part, during the day, he was generally in a happy mood, but it faded when Jake returned home from the Infirmary. Tristan would go up to his room and spend most of the evenings playing up there instead of watching a movie downstairs or wanting to put together a puzzle again.
Jake seemed oblivious to the change in their son, but not to her. He kept making eyes at her, and finding excuses to keep her close to home instead of going off to help out at the Pantry or visit with her friends. He would run his hands along her arms, give her ass a playful squeeze or place kisses on her shoulder or face in general. She just barely suppressed the urge to gag each time. He had been rather pleasant with her, with no real hint of the man he'd shown himself to truly be in her first days in the house, but she could still sense that man was there, waiting to jump out from under the surface at any moment. So, Georgie was always on edge, although she somehow maintained the appearance of a loving, attentive wife.
That fifth day after the party, in the morning before Jake walked off toward the Infirmary, he had pinned Georgie against the fridge and began kissing her neck and running his hands up under her shirt in an attempt to fondle her breasts.
"Jake, not now," she whined. "I'm not ready."
"And I'm tired of waiting."
"And I'm not ready," she stressed, shoving him off her a little rougher than she had intended.
He wasn't happy with the gesture and retaliated by slapping her face so hard it brought tears to her eyes. Georgie would have launched herself at him then but she turned when she noticed Tristan standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking nervously between his parents.
"Hey, buddy," Jake began to smile, turning on the charm as he stepped toward their son.
Tristan backed away and hurried out of the room. The sound of the door to the garage opening and shutting echoed throughout the house and Jake turned back at Georgie with hate in his eyes.
"This is your fault. You're not doing your job," he growled, stepping up to her. "If you would just do what's expected of you, our son wouldn't have to see me get angry. I can't have my son see me that way."
"It's not my fault you've become an asshole."
Jake responded by grabbing her neck with his fingers and holding tightly. Just as she thought she was going to start suffocating, he released his grip and stepped away. Grabbing his satchel off the kitchen island, he glared back at her.
"We'll continue this when I get home later. Don't think of trying anything in the meantime."
With that, he stormed out of the house and Georgie was left in stunned silence.
On the downside, her act had slipped and he had clearly seen right through to her defiance and disgust for him. But, on the upside, he was revealing himself to their son and it would be very easy to coax her son out of the house without upsetting the stability she wanted him to have just as much as Jake claimed to also want. But, before she could make that final move, she needed to know that Tristan was okay with other things, like what he'd experienced in Greensboro. She knew there was something more to it that he wasn't telling her and she didn't want whatever it was to eat away at him.
The sudden cacophony of metal and other heavy objects clattering in the garage grabbed her attention.
Georgie ran into the garage and found her tools all over the place and Tristan's bike chain was ripped back off and thrown out into the driveway. But, more importantly, Tristan had run off somewhere. Looking around, she sighed, unable to see where he went, but she took comfort in that he couldn't be far and he couldn't have gone outside the walls. Someone would run into and keep an eye on him. Whatever his issue was, she figured he was trying to handle it in his own way. She remembered what it was like to be a kid, and she wanted to let him get out whatever it was that was bothering him without pressuring him to say it.
While she was attempting to clean up the mess, footsteps along the road behind her house and the other two houses belonging to the group echoed on the pavement. A moment later, Rick appeared, once more in his constable's uniform.
"Hey," he greeted and then noticed the destruction.
"Hey," Georgie replied with half a smirk.
"What happened?"
"Someone got angry and took it out on my tools and my son's bike."
"Who?"
Georgie didn't want to say Tristan. She didn't want to make her son feel bad if word got back to him that Rick or his dad knew what he'd done. There was clearly enough on the boy's mind than being worried about being yelled at for being destructive.
"I don't know," she lied. "It's okay though. Aside from the bike chain, nothing's actually broken."
Rick stepped inside the garage and crouched down at the mess of tools scattered all over the floor. "Did you do this?" he asked with a curious eye.
"No, sadly, this isn't my handiwork."
"So, someone just came in here and did this?"
"Yep," she nodded, avoiding his eye, but she could tell he wasn't completely buying what she was selling.
"Was it Jake?"
Georgie laughed. "Ha, no. He never comes in here."
"Well, I doubt you have any enemies here," Rick commented. Standing up, he added, with a smile, "Too bad there isn't somebody who could look into this kind of thing." When Georgie grinned back at him, he took a few steps closer to her and placed his hands on her elbows. "I'll ask around."
"No, you don't have to."
"Yeah, I know."
Georgie rolled her eyes. "Okay, so you find the person who did this and then what?" she asked playfully.
Rick shrugged. "Some kind of consequences. You ever heard about the broken window theory?" Georgie shook her head. "Boils down to this—you keep the windows intact, you keep society intact."
"This is just tools thrown around and a broken bike chain, Rick."
"Yeah. Yeah. I got to do something today."
Stepping closer to him, Georgie reached out a hand and grabbed onto his belt. "You gotta do something or…"
Rick grinned, catching her drift. "Hmm, well, it has been four and a half very long days since I last did something," he replied, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing his lips hungrily to hers.
She threw her arms around his shoulder and sighed into his mouth and every bad thought or worry about Jake and Tristan, respectively, momentarily slipped her mind. Moving a hand to the side of his face, she leaned her head back to stare at him.
"Where's Tristan?"
"It makes me sound like a terrible mother, but I don't know," she shrugged.
Rick nodded. "You're not a terrible mother," he insisted. Leaning back in, he nuzzled her cheek and placed a kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
That simple gesture set her skin on fire.
"Can you spare some time to investigate, officer?" she asked with a giggle, while slowly leading him to the door to the house.
Rick nodded. "Yeah, I think I can."
Looking over his shoulder, he then let her take his hand and drag him inside the house.
Carol heard a noise come from downstairs. Aside from Judith, who she had just put down for a nap, she was the only one in the house at the moment, so her curiosity was considerably peaked. Coming down the stairs, she noticed the storage closet under the stairs was slightly ajar. Reaching the bottom step, she whipped the door open and found Tristan standing inside, rifling through some food supplies.
Furrowing her brow, she grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him out. "What are you doing here?"
She didn't mean to be harsh with the boy. She knew he had been through his own horrors in his young life, but she wasn't keen on him snooping around, even though he was Georgie's son.
"Do you have any more cookies?" he wondered. "The ones you made for the party?"
Carol frowned. "They're gone. Now you should go home."
"My house doesn't have power. I can't watch a movie and my bike is broken so I can't ride it and I hate the puzzles my dad has us put together. I hate doing them. I hate my stuff. It's stupid stuff." Tristan kicked the door and pouted.
Looking as if he was going to cry, Carol shut the storage room door and led him toward the kitchen. "Tristan, does you mom and dad know you're here?"
Tristan shook his head. "Dad's at the Infirmary. Mom's at home but I kinda got mad and ran away to be here because you make good cookies and cookies always make me feel happy. Can you make more cookies?"
"You're nine years old. What made you so mad you ran away from home?"
Tristan clammed up and evaded the question. "Maybe if you showed me how to make them, I could do it myself."
Carol saw there was something there in the boy that he really didn't want to talk about and was deflecting. "You want cookies?" she asked. When he nodded, she led him to the front door. "Alright. You're gonna have to steal the chocolate from Olivia. And then you're gonna get an extra bar for me. And if you get caught or you say anything, you're not gonna like what happens to you. Now hurry up. Daylight's a-wasting."
Shooing Tristan out the front door, Carol closed it behind her and then moved around to the living room to watch as he slouched his shoulders and hurried down the stairs. Narrowing her eyes, she wondered what the hell was going on in that boy's head. When he mentioned his father and the puzzle he seemed so nervous and angry.
What did that boy have to be so angry about?
In Georgie's bedroom, Rick was lying on the bed, wearing only a bedsheet draped over his lower half as he watched Georgie standing up and reaching for her underwear. He watched the way her curls bounced around her shoulders with the slightest movement, but mostly his eyes were just transfixed on the curve of her ass and the being able to glimpse her overall naked form in daylight.
To him, she was a thing of beauty to behold, and being with her made him feel whole again. He didn't feel broken or angry or scared. He felt love and hope. For a little while, his negative thoughts stopped screaming at him, and he owed that to her.
"You're like a goddess," he muttered.
Georgie looked over her shoulder at him and rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Don't get cheesy on me." Smiling she climbed back onto bed, wearing only her panties, as she sat down on his bedsheet-covered lap.
"You shouldn't sit there. You'll get me going again."
"What a travesty that would be," she quipped.
In response, he pinched her ass and sat up to muffled her delighted squeal by kissing her senseless. He bent his head down to press his face into the crook of her neck and suckle softly at her skin. She cooed at the gestured and brought her hands up to his hair, wanting nothing more than to go another round with him.
"I would like to stay here longer, but I should probably continue my rounds and then go check on Carl and Judith," he informed, kissing her lips once more before she climbed off his lap.
"Yeah, I should stop being such a delinquent mother and go look for where Tristan's gotten off to and then make him some lunch."
"Is everything alright with him?" Rick asked as he reached down for his boxers and slid them on. He turned and looked at Georgie. "He's the one that made the mess in the garage, isn't he?"
"Well, he did go into the garage and then I heard the clatter, but I never actually saw him do it. But if I'm being honest—"
"—Please do—"
"—Then I'd say, yes, it was Tristan."
"Why would he throw your tools around and why would he ruin his bike? Is he mad at you?"
Georgie shook her head. "No, not at me," she replied, getting off the bed to put the rest of her clothes back on. "A few days ago he was feeling sad about his friends that were killed in Greensboro and I think there was something else that was bothering him then, but he wouldn't say. And, then today—"
"What about today?" Rick was standing, too, now, pulling on his white T-shirt. Throwing a concerned glance over at her, he picked up his dress shirt and tie that was part of his uniform.
"He might've seen the tail end of Jake and me arguing."
"Arguing about what? Arguing how?" Rick walked around to her side of the bed as he slipped into his dress shirt. His face became serious as he stood in front of her.
Georgie took his tie from him as he began buttoning up his shirt, and wrapped it around his neck to tie it for him. "I told you I can handle myself and I can handle Jake," she said, while he tucked his shirt into his pants. "You have to trust that I know what I'm doing."
"Do you?"
She took a moment to look up from his tie and up at his face instead. "Okay, I am eighty to ninety percent positive I know what I'm doing."
"I don't like those percentages."
"I also told you that you would be the first to know if anything happens, and I promise you can still hold me to that." Patting his chest, she gestured to the floor. "Don't forget your belt."
"I really don't care for this situation, Georgie. I want you where I can see you in case something bad happens. I want to be able to protect you."
She smiled, as she finished pulling on the rest of her clothes. Stepping back up to him, she cupped his stubbly face in her hands and kissed him. "You can't be the knight in shining armor twenty-four seven, Rick."
"I can if you let me."
"Well, maybe I don't want to be some damsel in distress who needs rescuing from the monsters twenty-four seven."
Rick stared at her and shook his head. "Are you trying to frustrate me, 'cause it's working?" Despite his seriousness, he smiled.
"Just put your belt on, Officer Grimes." Giving him a peck on the lips, Georgie pulled her hair into a ponytail. "I'll meet you downstairs."
As soon as she was in the kitchen, she grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter and waited a few moments until Rick descended the stairs, wearing his constable's jacket as well now. She felt the butterflies in her stomach dance around again at the mere sight of him. He was so beautiful and ruggedly handsome that it took her breath away.
"You're probably gonna skip lunch and you just built up an appetite, so take this with you and promise you'll eat it," Georgie said, handing him the apple.
Taking the fruit, he nodded at her. "Let me at least help you clean up the garage before I head out."
Georgie nodded. "Alright."
The pair headed into the garage and went about picking up the scattered tools. When Rick passed the broken bike chain over to her, their hands grazed each other and both smiled.
But the smiles faded when the sound of her front door slamming echoed all the way into the garage.
"Georgie!"
It was Jake.
"In the garage! With Rick!"
There was silence, followed by, "Oh. Hey Rick!"
A moment later, Jake appeared in the doorway and looked between the pair.
"You're home early," Georgie commented.
"Yeah, uh, what's going on in here?" Jake gestured to all the tools.
"I was just walking by and accidentally spooked Georgie while she was cleaning some of her tools. I made her drop them on accident and I was just helping her clean up," Rick lied with a smile on his face.
"Oh, okay. Well, it was nice seeing you, Rick."
"You, too, Jake." Both men nodded at each other and when Jake was out of sight, Rick stepped forward up to Georgie. "Do you need me to stay? Because I will."
"I know you will, but you can go. I'll be fine," she assured. Leaning in, they kissed. "I'll see you later, alligator."
Rick snickered and shook his head as he backed out of the garage. "In a while, crocodile."
Georgie smiled and chuckled slightly as he disappeared from her sight. When she set the broken bike chain on the work bench, she then sighed and looked up toward the door into the house. Once she was in the kitchen, she saw that Jake was nursing a beer he had removed from the fridge.
"If you're looking to argue with me, don't bother."
Jake glared at her. "What did I tell you about being alone with him?"
"Um…I don't care what you told me and I'm tired of pretending I care at all about you anymore. It truly is exhausting."
Chugging the rest of his beer in practically one gulp, Jake shook his head. "Wrong," he muttered. He pulled open the fridge door and frowned. "Why is it warm in this fridge?"
"Because the power grid's down right now," she replied. "Why are you drinking midday anyway? Why are you home?"
"This is my home. I don't need an excuse to come and go as I please. I don't need your permission."
Georgie narrowed her eyes. "Are you drunk? You only had one beer."
"I might've spiked my coffee thermos this morning with some whiskey."
"Classy, Jake. Really classy."
Abruptly, Jake threw the empty beer bottle at Georgie. It missed her by a few inches and smashed into the cupboards behind her head. She jumped and realized that if he weren't drunk, his aim would've been spot on and she would've probably been knocked out cold by that bottle.
"Clean that up," he demanded.
"You're the one that threw it like a petulant child and broke it. You clean it up."
Stalking up to her, Jake grabbed her ponytail and dragged her out of the room and up the stairs. She retaliated by kicking at him and trying to scratch him, but his hold on her hair hurt like hell, causing her to cry out in pain. He led her upstairs to his bedroom and shoved her forward, shutting the door behind them and locking it.
"Time for you to earn you keep, my love."
As she ran for the door, he grabbed her arm and spun her back toward the bed. She flopped backward onto it and kicked him in the stomach when he neared.
"That was very rude," he remarked.
And then he punched her in the face so hard that everything went black.
A short while later, Rick was back at home, out of his uniform; wearing only the white T-shirt. He had been standing at the sink, finishing the apple Georgie had given him and was smiling back to himself. His mind was thinking about earlier in the day, holding her in his arms in her bed and the way she was able to move so well he nearly got a Charlie horse.
A knocked at the front door snapped him out of his reverie and he set the apple core in the sink. When he neared the door, he was able to see that it was Jake standing on the other side before he even opened it.
"Hey, Rick, just having a beer. Thought I'd bring you one," Jake announced once the door was open, "for helping my wife today."
"Um, I'm good, but thanks."
"Come on," he insisted. "Don't tell me you're still on duty."
"Kind of always am, you know?"
"Not at Deanna's party." Jake walked right in and leaned against one of the pillars, after peering at the inside of the house. He smiled, holding up his beer and the extra he brought. "I saw you. You had some, right?"
"You know, I wish I could have helped out more today. The garage was still in a bit of disarray when I left, but I had to get going and Georgie…she, uh…she said she had a handle of things."
"Yeah, she's got a handle on a lot of things. She always was a multitasker."
Rick just stared at Jake. "Yeah."
"I'm sorry. Heard you lost your wife." When Rick's jaw clenched and he nodded, Jake actually seemed sympathetic. "Georgie and I — we've lost things. Did she tell your our daughter was killed? She won't tell me how it happened, but I was an idiot and walked out. I know that. Other things we're just fighting like hell to hold on to. Everything you people have been through — I don't know if you see that."
"We do," Rick nodded.
Jake smiled and took a swig of his beer. "Bring your kids in for a checkup. I know I offered you one, but they really should come in. They were out there a while, right?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Jake."
Taking a step forward, Jake stood with his face mere inches from Rick's. "Let's be friends, man. We kind of have to be, right?"
"Yeah, we do."
"So we will." Jake offered Rick his hand and when both men shook, he added, "I'll see you, Rick."
After roughly patting Rick on the shoulder, Jake walked out of the house. Turning, Rick grabbed the door and shut it slowly; his jaw momentarily clenching and unclenching. Just underneath the surface he was actually shaking slightly. He couldn't stand Jake and having the man approach him like he had got under his skin.
Looking down at his left hand, his mind began to reel, as he twirled his wedding ring around his finger.
Slightly later, there was another knock at the front door. However, this time it was Carol in the kitchen and it was Tristan at the door. The kid was standing there, proudly holding up a baggie with two small chocolate bars in it. Peering outside, to make sure no one had seen, Carol took the baggie and carted the boy inside the house with her.
She proceeded in showing Tristan how she made the cookies. She did all the work and he just watched, possibly committing the directions to memory. Once they were ready to bake, Carol put them into the oven and turned around to look at him.
"After these are done, that's it. No more cookies. You got it?"
"Yeah," Tristan nodded.
"I hope you're not expecting to leave with more than half of these. You barely did half the work," Carol commented as she began to put the mixing bowls and utensils into the sink under the window.
"Were you always a good cook?"
Carol ignored the question and ran the water onto a dishcloth, and then handed it to him. "Wipe the counter."
Tristan sighed. "Did you like it? Cooking? You know, before."
"I was good at it," she replied. "It distracted me. It made me forget when I was sad."
"Sometimes when I get sad, I break stuff."
"What kind of stuff?" she asked and Tristan shrugged. "The puzzles you put together with your dad? Your bike chain, maybe?" Rick had mentioned in passing, when he returned home earlier, that he had just helped Georgie tidy up her garage because 'someone' had thrown tools around and broken the chain off Tristan's bike. "Did you break it?" The boy seemed sad as he nodded. Frowning, Carol pressed further. "Why? Why are you here?"
"I saw you leaving at the party. I snuck out, too, for a while and watched you climb into the window and steal those guns," he evaded. "Why did you steal the guns?" When he saw Carol tensed and seemed mad, he looked at her with his big blue eyes and shook his head. "You don't have to worry. I didn't tell anyone you stole them. I just wanna know why you took them."
Carol sighed and stared at him for a moment, considering her options. "I took them because sometimes you need to protect yourself."
Tristan accepted her answer and nodded. "Can I have a gun?" he asked, looking up at her.
"Why do you want one?" she wondered, becoming a little concerned.
"It's not for me."
"Who's it for?" When he went still and clammed up, Carol repeated herself. "Tristan, who's it for?"
Instead of answering, Tristan ran out of the house with Carol calling after him.
She was fully concerned now. If the gun wasn't for him, it had to be for Georgie, his mother. And why else would Georgie need a gun but to protect herself? And why did Georgie need to protect herself? And why was Tristan worried that his mother needed to protect herself?
Not content to leave these questions go unanswered, and her mind going crazy with the negative thoughts popping into her head, Carol sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island, tapping her fingers along the granite countertop.
Georgie was a strong woman. She could protect herself if she needed to. Carol had seen it plenty of times. She never really even needed a gun on the outside. She always preferred her hunting knife anyway, and Georgie still had that with her if a situation arose where she needed to defend herself.
Right?
Swiveling around, Carol looked out the double doors, out at the porch and clamped her hands together between her thighs.
After about twenty minutes of just sitting there, lost in thought and letting her worries mount, Carol couldn't sit back anymore. She got to her feet and she walked out the front door, allowing her feet to lead her to Georgie's home. Ascending the stairs, to the porch, she took momentary pause before knocking on the door.
After a second knock, the door opened a crack and revealed Jake standing there. Carol was able to see that the shades were drawn on all the windows and inside the house was dark.
"Hi. Carol, right?"
Carol nodded. "That's right."
"Do you need something? Not feeling well?"
"I was with Tristan earlier. Is he okay?"
Jake frowned, leaning closer in an almost threatening way. "Why wouldn't he be?"
Carol forced a smile. "Can I talk to Georgie?" she pressed, feeling anxious.
"Not a good time. She's sleeping."
"Jake, don't," she said as he closed the door in her face.
Carol walked back home, slowly. Her head was pounding, but not from a headache. It was from her heart beating so loudly, it reverberated all through her body echoed the loudest in her head. She was very worried for Georgie and no longer wanted her friend in that house. She could just sense something was amiss, but she needed to talk it over with Rick first. He deserved to know her fears.
Walking back into the house, she shut the door behind her and found Rick downstairs in the dining room.
"I think Jake's hitting Georgie. And maybe Tristan, too."
Rick went still. He could feel his nerve endings come alive with anger. His face twitched and he slowly closed the gap in the distance between him and Carol.
"You know this how? Did Tristan tell you?"
"He didn't have to."
Rick shook his head. "No. Georgie told me she would come to me first if something like this happened."
"We don't know the extent of her relationship with Jake before the outbreak. She says it was good, happy. But I said the same things to people when they asked how Ed and I were doing. This could be something that's been going on for years with them, or maybe it's a recent development. I don't know, Rick. But I do know something is wrong and something needs to be done."
Rick's nostrils flared and he balled his fists at his sides.
Georgie was two doors down and here he was, just standing around. He should be running up the street and bursting through into that house. But he had to do this right. He needed to trust that whatever Georgie was dealing with, she was okay and she was holding her own. He said he had to trust that she knew what she was doing, but he wasn't sure that she did. Rick was fairly certain now that whatever was going on, Georgie had gotten in over her head and he just needed her to tell him. He needed her to give him the word.
"Rick. I know how this is gonna go with Jake," Carol continued as he looked out the window near the front door that looked in the direction of Georgie's house. "There's only one way it can go."
Rick turned around and looked at her.
"You're gonna have to kill him."
He was prepared to do just that, right then and there, when they both heard the screams for help.
At first, Rick's initial thought was Georgie, but then he recognized Glenn's voice on wafting through the air, loud enough to wake the dead. Grabbing his constable jacket, Rick ran outside; down the porch and up the road, following where the shouting was coming from. As he reached the Infirmary, he saw Tara being brought there and Eugene saying something about them needing "the doctor". Maggie had run up and seen what was going on and offered to go get Jake, who wasn't in the Infirmary already.
Suddenly there was chaos. Rick was trying to piece together what was going on. Everyone was talking at him all at once but eventually he gathered that both Aiden and Noah were dead. Before he heard from Glenn what happened, Rick went into the Infirmary to check on Tara with his own eyes, just as Maggie returned with Jake lagging behind her. When both men saw each other, it took everything in Rick's power not to attack him.
But, right now, as much as Rick hated to admit it, they needed Jake to help take care of Tara.
Rick then went round to the Monroe family, to express his condolences for their son and would look into what happened. When he returned to the Infirmary, Glenn was sitting on the front porch, in a daze, when Rick asked for an account of what went down.
Apparently, there had been an explosion. Aiden accidentally shot at a walker with a grenade attached to it, and he had been impaled. Glenn and Nicholas tried to help free him, but there was no saving him. They were forced to leave him behind to get eaten by walkers. Tara was injured from the blast and knocked unconscious. Then, in an attempt to get safely away, Glenn and Noah had found themselves stuck in one side of a revolving door while Nicholas was in another side. Nicholas didn't wait and ran off, and the door opened enough for the walkers to get Noah. They pulled him out and ate him right in front of Glenn.
Sitting there, practically catatonic, Rick had to assure Glenn everything was alright, that he did the best he could, but also that these people in Alexandria weren't prepared and they didn't need to abide by their rules. They needed to take matters into their own hands, basically. Glenn, however, insisted that they were the people in Alexandria now, that Noah believed in this place and they had to make it work.
Rick, unconvinced, and with his mind wandering back to Georgie, stood up and wandered back home.
At that same moment, Georgie was stirring awake.
When her eyes opened, there was a pounding in her head. She looked around for her window and found it not where it was supposed to be. When she did find a window, she saw it was dark out and then she realized she wasn't in her bedroom.
Slowly, and achingly, she sat up.
Placing a hand to the side of her head, Georgie winced. There was a considerable goose egg between her left eye and her temple. Her cheekbone was sore as well, and then she remembered where she was.
She was in Jake's bedroom.
As she tried standing up off the bed, she saw she wasn't wearing pants anymore. They were a few feet away on the ground and a sob escaped her lips from out of nowhere.
"Time for you to earn you keep, my love."
Jake had spoken those words and they were ringing in her head.
"Oh, God," she muttered, putting two and two together about what had happened while she was unconscious.
Wandering to the bedroom door, she reached for the knob and turned it, but it didn't budge. It wasn't locked, but something on the other side was barricading her in, so she banged on the door. "Hey! Let me out!"
When no answer came, Georgie turned around and looked toward the closet and for some reason felt compelled to search in there for something that could help her plight. Pulling open the closet door, she stepped inside and turned on the light. There was nothing on the floor, except for a few pairs of shoes. On the hangers were Jake's clothes. That was nothing out of the ordinary. But, there was a shelf up top with a few boxes.
Standing on tiptoe, her legs buckled and she hunched forward from pain in her pelvic region.
"You motherfucker," she grumbled, referring to Jake.
Once more, she stood on tiptoe, and reached up, ignoring her soreness. She dragged her hands along the shelf, reaching for anything when a ray of hope appeared. She knew what she was touching was her hunting knife. Scrambling for it with her fingers, she tried pulling it back toward her. In the process, though, she knocked her hand into one of the boxes and it came down on her head and fell to the ground.
It didn't hurt, though. It was just a shoebox that felt as if only paper or something equally as lightweight was inside. Her knife fell to the ground as well, so she crouched down to pick it up.
But as she did that, she noticed something sticking out of the fallen box.
Something red.
Pulling off the lid, Georgie narrowed her gaze and found herself looking at a red, Atlanta Braves baseball cap.
Georgie paled.
She remembered something her son had said a couple of days ago.
"I didn't see them kill anyone. I just heard it. But I saw what one of them was wearing."
"What was he wearing?"
"A red, Atlanta Braves baseball cap."
"Fucking Christ," Georgie gasped.
Suddenly panting, Georgie clamored to her feet, gripping both her knife and the hat. Sauntering back into the bedroom, she set both items down on the bed and then picked up her pants and slipped them on. She was sore but she was desperate to get out of Jake's bedroom so, after picking the knife and hat back up, she ran at the door and slammed the side of her body against it.
Whatever was barricading her in budged slightly. Taking a few steps back, and wincing all the way, she repeated the process one more time and reveled when the barrier gave.
She practically tumbled out into the upstairs hall.
All the lights seemed to still be out in the house, though she knew the power was back up because she was able to turn on that closet light. Taking the stairs gingerly one at a time, she made her way to the first floor.
"Tristan?" she called out. "Tristan, honey, where are you?"
No answer.
Ducking out into the garage, she felt dizzy, but kept her eyes on the prize, and that prize was finding her son and getting the hell out of the house.
The garage door was open, so she stepped out into the night air and turned left; walking up the road behind her house and the group's two, where all the garages backed out onto. Stumbling over her own two she eventually reached Rick's house and slipped inside the back door and into the back hallway.
"Rick?" she called out weakly.
Christ, her head was pounding.
She stepped out into the kitchen and saw through the windowpanes of the double doors that Rick was standing out on the porch with Carol.
Overcome with happiness to see them there, Georgie shouted, "Rick!"
Both Rick and Carol turned. From upstairs she could hear Judith suddenly cry and footsteps coming from upstairs as well.
"Georgie?" she heard Carl call out to her from behind her on the stairs.
Before she could turn around to look at the young teen, the front door opened up and in rushed Rick, rushing up to her side as her legs gave out from underneath her. She had no idea what she looked like, but judging from the looks on his and Carol's face, she was probably not going to win a beauty pageant anytime soon.
She felt tired suddenly as Rick sank to the ground with her. She noticed Carol out the corner of her eye running over to the sink and returning with a damp cloth which was soon pressed to the left side of her head where the goose egg was.
"What happened?" Carl was questioned, worry in his voice.
"Carl, just go upstairs please," Carol insisted. "Please."
Rick was pulling Georgie into his lap, cradling her as Carol cleaned her head wound.
"Did Jake do this to you?" he demanded, fear and rage in his bright blue eyes.
Georgie closed her eyes. "Yeah," she mumbled. "But don't—don't do anything yet."
"I'm gonna kill him," Rick sneered. "I'm gonna kill him."
"Don't. Not yet," she breathed, feeling so very tired. "I gotta tell you about the hat."
Georgie held the baseball cap up, but that's when she surrendered to unconsciousness a second time.