The Defense Rests

Hiding on her porch, Jessie strained her neck to watch Michonne enter her home. The coast now clear, she hurried from her house to the one that held Pete, glancing at the front gate to make sure that Spencer's back was still turned. She bounded up the porch steps and knocked on the door, her stomach in nervous knots.

"Come on, Pete."

The door swung open, and Pete, holding an ice pack to the left side of his face, frowned at her before checking to see if anyone was behind her. "Aren't you violating the restraining order?" he asked humorlessly.

"Just let me in," she said and hurried past him.

Pete closed the door and regarded her. "What?"

"We need to talk."

"Oh, now? Now you wanna talk? After your boyfriend tried to beat my face in?"

He had less bandages on his face than Rick, which Jessie found ironic, considering Rick had knocked him out. "Something serious is happening, Pete," she said tensely. "I don't know if you've heard, but there's a big meeting tonight, and Deanna's gonna decide whether or not Rick gets to stay here."

"Good."

"It won't end there for you. What if Deanna decides he can stay? What if he convinces her? He and his people have a skill, Pete, a valuable one, just like you. Do you think Deanna's just gonna throw that away?"

"She has every reason to," he grumbled as he walked past her to head to the kitchen. "I have a splitting fucking headache, and Deanna won't give me anything for it. No need to waste resources, she said."

"Even if Rick leaves, it still doesn't bode well for you," Jessie pressed as she followed him. "Everyone knows now. Everyone knows what you do, who you are. Do you think things are just gonna go back to normal? You have to change, Pete."

"You have some nerve saying this shit to me. You have some nerve even stepping foot in here."

"I'm not gonna let you anywhere near the kids until you change, until you stop."

"Excuse me?" Pete seethed as he took several slow steps toward her, making Jessie tense in anticipation. Nevertheless, she raised her chin and stood her ground.

"I'm not going anywhere, Jessie. Rick's got you fucked up. In case you've forgotten, there's an unconscious girl lying in the clinic, and I am the only one who can take care of her."

Jessie forced herself to maintain eye contact with Pete despite her skin prickling. He was towering over her. "I don't give a damn what you can do. We're either gonna go through this together or we won't. I need someone who will help me protect our kids."

"And you think that someone's Rick."

"No, I'm thinking that someone might be me and me alone. Rick said he and his people-"

"Oh, Rick said! Rick said!" he yelled in her face.

"Back off!" she screamed in return, her fright making her push him.

Pete dropped the ice pack and shoved her with all his might, making her head snap forward as she stumbled hard but kept her footing.

"This is...you're really pushing it, Jessie," Pete complained. "I didn't mean to do that-"

"The hell you didn't," she countered, tearing up, still feeling the brutal strength of his hands on her chest. "I'm gonna be at that meeting tonight, Pete, you fucking idiot. Will I tell Deanna that yeah, Rick should be kicked out?" she asked, raising her left palm up, "Or will I tell her he deserves another chance, because what he did showed that he cares about the well-being of the people in this community, which is exactly the kind of people we want here?" she asked, raising her right palm up. "Which one will it be, Pete? I came here to talk to you, to get through to you, but as usual you can't see past yourself. I don't know how the fuck I would even begin to protect those kids by myself-"

"Protect them from what?! We're fine! We are fine, and we were fine until they showed up. Until he showed up!"

"But you know what?" she continued as if he hadn't yelled at her again, "I'm now thinking that it's worth finding out. You can be the only surgeon in Alexandria: valuable, praised, and a blessing to everyone else, but you don't have to be that while living in my house. I want you out, and I'm gonna go through every recourse to make sure it happens."

"Jessie," he plead as she began to walk away. "Jessie!"

"Don't touch me!" she yelled as she whirled around. "Do not touch me. Do not ever touch me again," she said, her voice trembling. She walked backward until she found the door and ran out.

The clock ticked toward late afternoon, and apprehension was growing in Alexandria. Most of the residents, whether they were invited to the meeting or not, just wanted to go back to normal. They wanted to go back to before they met Rick Grimes and his crew, before the uncomfortable feeling they got from the Andersons was justified. Many wished Deanna would just make a decision without their input and call it a day. They did not want to be responsible for kicking people out, but they did not want to be responsible for any continuing violence, either. They appreciated Deanna's gesture to be inclusive and transparent, but they would welcome the opportunity to sit out the meeting. After all, they never got a say as to who Deanna and Reg invited into the community. They would just gain new neighbors all of a sudden.

Well this time, a new neighbor had bitten Deanna in the butt. Why did they have to be a part of the consequence?

Michonne approached Rick's bedroom and leaned against the door frame. He was sitting on the bed, his posture terrible, apparently deep in thought.

"Hey," she greeted softly.

He straightened his spine and turned his head to look at her. "Hey."

She walked into the room, dressed in her constable slacks and a white tank top, her hair tied back in a half ponytail.

"I haven't had the chance to tell you that you look great in that uniform," he said.

"Please," she rolled her eyes as she leaned back against the window. "It's ugly."

"It's not, but that could be because every time I see you in it, I picture you taking it off."

She smiled. "That's better than you thinking these clothes are actually sexy. What's up?"

Rick raised his eyebrows and shook his head. Michonne lowered her eyes and folded her lips in thought. "Rick," she began when she heard his deep sigh. She raised her eyes to look at him and then joined him on the bed. She sat close enough for her thigh to touch his, the mattress dipping with her weight. "I realize that I need to make a decision. The same way that you have to decide what you're willing to do to stay here, I have to decide how far I'm willing to follow you. And I've decided that I will go the distance. I trust you to make...the best decision. Like you always do."

"I didn't make the best decision when I didn't wanna come here," he reminded her.

"Unfortunately, I can't tell you that I met another Aaron," she said with a small smile. "I don't have another Alexandria in my back pocket."

"I wish you did."

"Whatever you decide, I'm with you."

Rick stared into her eyes. Pure, lustrous brown. Solid and resolute. Determined. She meant it. Whatever he decided, she was with him. She would take up arms if need be. "It's a lot of pressure," he said softly.

"It always has been-"

"I mean you," he interrupted. "Not that I was lax about it before, but...you bein' with me no matter what means that I have to be worth that. I have to make it so that you don't ever regret that. You supporting me can't ever mean you goin' against your principles."

"Oh, that'll never happen," she panned. "But I guess that's what I'm saying. That's...that's my conclusion: I'm with you no matter what, because I don't believe you could ever do anything that goes against my principles."

"I love you, too," he said softly.

"Did you hear what I-?"

Rick captured her lips in a kiss, lightly sucking her top lip into his, then the bottom, then the top as what he took as her declaration of unyielding love both warmed and fortified him. It didn't take her long to catch up, her hands coming up to gently cup his cheeks. He deepened the kiss, and she followed, matching his passion.

They worked themselves up and then worked themselves down, slowing the kiss, promising themselves to continue this as soon as possible.

"Jesus," Michonne sighed as she covered her tingling lips with her hands.

"We're not gonna get thrown out like yesterday's trash," Rick promised, briefly tilting his head.

Spellbound, Michonne could only nod.

Despite his isolation, Pete's apprehension grew, too. Jessie's visit had put him on edge. He wanted to be at the meeting. He wanted to know what was going to happen. He wanted to have a say. From the way Jessie had spoken, it seemed like he was the only one who could stand up for himself and speak against Rick Grimes.

As he thought about it, he realized that there wasn't anyone he could count on to give his side. No, he didn't have much of a side, other than what happens inside his home isn't anyone's business, but outside of Jessie and the kids, he didn't have anyone in Alexandria.

And now that Rick had Jessie feeling "liberated," he didn't have her either.

He didn't understand it. He didn't understand how one person could turn his life upside down in a matter of days.

Jessie had said that Rick could convince Deanna to let him stay. Was Rick going to be at the meeting, then? Was Deanna actually going to give him a chance to make a case for himself while he remained locked up? The possibility pissed him off, because it seemed that he'd been branded while Rick might be given a chance to redeem himself.

There was a knock on the door.

With a blaspheming curse, he dragged himself off the stool at the kitchen island and went to answer it. If Jessie tattled to Deanna after she'd come to antagonize him, he'd really be through.

Instead of Deanna, he found Carol on the porch with a dish of baked lasagna. He wondered then who the hell was supposed to be watching to make sure he didn't just leave the house.

When Carol barged in uninvited and closed the door behind her, his annoyance spiked. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You need to check on Tara," she stated plainly. "You treated her; you're a surgeon; you need to do that."

"Get out," he griped as he came to face her.

What happened next left him reeling, confused, and at his wit's end. Carol made Rick's team a joke. That was his opinion. A bunch of people with guns, knives, and swords, and then...Carol. Sure, Eugene apparently wasn't worth anything either, but he was smart. Pete was sure that that helped. Somehow. But what did Carol have? She was useless weight on the team. That was what he thought.

When she pulled the knife from her pants, he wondered if she knew how to use it. When she told him she could kill him right at that moment, he wished she would try. He would get in more trouble for fighting her, but he didn't understand what the fuck she was doing in his presence.

She drolled on in a detached tone of voice he'd never heard her use before, asking him who would believe that she killed him simply because she disliked him.

His body tensed when she touched the point of the knife to his chin and applied some pressure. And his blood ran hot when, seconds later, she swiped the knife away and nicked him in the process. He touched the spot that was now stinging and found it wet. Blood.

"Come at me," Carol taunted quietly. "No? Yeah? No."

Pete saw himself rush her then. He rushed her and slammed her against the wall, and he slammed her, and slammed her, and slammed her until the knife fell and the dish fell, and she regretted barging in to see him. To taunt him.

And he would have done it if he understood her place in this whole thing.

"The way this has played out, you have a choice," Carol said, bringing him back to reality. "You're here; your wife's there."

"Do not...talk about my family," he said tightly.

"You're a small weak nothing," Carol said, undaunted. "And with the world how it is, you're even weaker."

"Get out," he seethed.

"Play your cards right, maybe you don't have to die." She shoved the dish at him and headed toward the door. "And I want my dish back clean when you're done."

Carol opened the door and left. She smiled when she heard Pete hurl the dish at the door. "Be predictable, Pete. You can do it," she murmured as she headed back to her house.

Dressed in her Alexandria-issued gray uniform, Michonne walked to the meeting, located at the back of the community, on the front lawn of an unoccupied home. Night hadn't fallen yet, but the temperature had dipped low enough to warrant heavy jackets, and Michonne saw that a bonfire was serving as the centerpiece of the gathering.

She felt for her gun, a sign of her nervousness. What she really wanted was her katana. She'd put it up after the group chose their houses, determined to not need it, but the length of the sword on her back would go a long way towards comforting her right now. She didn't want to talk to these people. She didn't want to convince them or Deanna of anything. She just wanted Rick to come in and do whatever he decided to do. The problem was that he still hadn't figured out how to wrap this irritating situation into a nice package with a bow on top.

As Michonne walked, she thought about how odd it was to not be the big dog. And it wasn't even because the Alexandrians or Deanna were bigger dogs. They'd just found the place first.

Her steps slowed as she neared the location. She reminded herself that Rick would take Carl and Judith to keep Rosita and Tara company in the infirmary. She took a deep, steadying breath. And she released it. Game face on.

Four people were in attendance. Jessie, Tobin, Eric, and a portly white man she's seen but whose name she didn't know. She counted thirteen chairs, but she knew that Deanna expected more people.

"Hi," she greeted the early arrivals, her eyes on Jessie in particular. She knew that Rick hadn't gotten a chance to ask her if she was still on their side. Jessie nodded inconspicuously, but Michonne didn't feel any better.

The portly man nodded uncomfortably, and Tobin muttered a curt hi. Michonne inwardly nodded. She knew how they would vote.

More people dragged themselves in. They definitely did not want to be there, which meant chances were high that they'd go with whatever they felt Deanna wanted, simply because they've known her longer. Michonne almost hated them for it. But, as she watched them amble in, she idly hoped no one asked her if she knew their names since she wanted them to believe that she wanted to be a part of this community. She didn't know most of their names. Although she'd tried to get comfortable in her role as constable, she hadn't walked up to anyone to introduce herself and ask their names. It had seemed too weird at the time, too pleasantville. And she'd spent most of her time outside during the welcome party. She hoped those decisions weren't going to bite her in the ass now.

Familiar faces walked in: Carol, Abraham, Maggie, and Eugene. She again wished Daryl was here. He wasn't verbose by any means. He wasn't even a pithy man, but she believed that his sincerity would have been the selling point.

Eventually, Deanna walked in last with Reg and Spencer, which Michonne found typical. Deanna was the leader. She wasn't going to come early and wait for everyone else.

Michonne felt like whether Rick was allowed to stay or not rested solely on her. She, above everyone else, needed to convince Deanna. She'd brought them all here, given them the promise of stability, and she needed to make sure that they stayed. Alexandria could not fail.

The gray late afternoon turned into orange twilight, which very quickly turned into night, and Michonne tried hard not to look for Rick. He should've arrived by now.

"We're going to start," Deanna announced.

Michonne's heart skipped a beat.

"Can we wait?" Maggie asked. "There's still people coming. Glenn, Rick?"

Michonne wondered how the hell Deanna can start without the man on trial.

"We're going to start," Deanna repeated, her patience thin because she was taking Rick's tardiness as a high form of disrespect. "It's already dark." She'd already conceded one thing to Michonne, letting her group speak on Rick's behalf. They could start without him. Judging from what he'd said about the community yesterday, it was probably better that he didn't speak.

"We're going to talk about what happened," she continued. "Not the fight, not what precipitated it. We're dealing with that. We're going to talk about one of our constables, Rick Grimes. We're going to talk about his erratic behavior. We're going to talk about how he pointed his pistol at a crowd of people. And we're going to talk about what he said. I was hoping he'd be here."

"She said he's coming," Jessie said from her seat, mentally asking Michonne where the hell Rick was. "I'm sure he'll be here."

"And I'm sure we can work this all out," Carol added with a supplicating smile.

"If he comes, depending on when he comes, he can have his say. But I've granted Michonne's request to let Rick's group speak to his character," she announced to the Alexandrians, "And I think we have enough of them here to make a case for him. So please, whenever you're ready."

"I'd like to go first," Carol spoke up as she stood. Giving her attention to her fellow audience members, she said, "Rick Grimes saved my life, over and over. There's terrifying people out there, and he rescued me from them. People like me, people like, like us need people like him. I know what happened yesterday was scary. And I'm sure he's sorry for that. But maybe we should listen to what he was saying."

Michonne looked at Deanna to see if she bought that. Deanna was unmoved. Some in the audience looked like they were thinking, but Michonne knew that was a farce. They were letting Deanna think for them.

Abraham went next. He, of course, was standing. "Simply put: there is a vast ocean of shit that you people don't know shit about. Rick knows every fine grain of said shit. And then some."

Michonne almost smiled. She wasn't sure that Daryl would've said it very differently.

"My father respected Rick Grimes," Maggie began. "Rick is a father, too. He's a man with a good heart. He feels the things he does, the things he has to do. And all of us who were together before this place, no matter when we found each other, we're family now. Rick started that. And you can't stop it. And you don't want to. You want to be a part of this family, too. Trust me."

"Before we hear from anyone else, I would like to share something in the spirit of transparency," Deanna announced. "Father Gabriel came to see me the day before yesterday, and he said our new arrivals can't be trusted, that they were dangerous, that they would put themselves before this community. And not one day later, Rick seemed to demonstrate all the things Father Gabriel said. I had hoped Gabriel would be here tonight."

"I don't see him here, Deanna," Jessie piped up, doing her best to downplay what Deanna just said. "So you're just saying what someone said. Did you tape him?"

"He's not here," Maggie reiterated.

"Neither is Rick," Deanna countered.

A beat passed, and Maggie tersely excused herself and left the meeting.

"It's my turn," Michonne announced curtly. She was boiling. She wasn't sure who's neck she wanted to wring first: Deanna's or Father Gabriel's.

She separated herself from the audience to stand between them and Deanna and Reg to address both groups.

Every step she took reminded her of her past aspiration to transition from civil litigation to criminal law. If she could, she'd move to strike Deanna's last statement from the record based on the fact that that shit was not introduced into evidence beforehand! She'd given Deanna a list of character witnesses, verbally, that is. But Deanna had held tight to her own little character witness. The perks of being prosecutor, judge, and jury. And Deanna was playing all three roles, no matter what the meeting suggested.

So she was going to freely disregard Deanna's guideline for what should and shouldn't be discussed tonight. In the spirit of transparency.

We will now hear closing arguments, beginning with Ms. Elliot and the defense counselors.

Thank you, Your Honor. Members of the jury…

"What happened yesterday was your glance into who Rick is: someone who doesn't stand for injustice. Someone who isn't okay with letting a cancer fester and spread. Pete has been abusing Jessie. That's why we're here. No one's said it yet, but that's why we're here. I'm sorry, but in the spirit of transparency, we cannot address Rick's 'erratic' behavior or him pointing the gun without talking about the fight and what precipitated it. The community's dirty laundry doesn't get shoved to the side while we gather here to judge Rick. Let's lay it all on the table.

Pete has been abusing Jessie, one of your own, and it took an outsider to listen to her and help her. This is what you're here to decide: was Rick wrong to help Jessie? Was he wrong to be frustrated by the perceived fact that no one else was willing to do anything to help her? Does he deserve to be punished for helping her stand up for herself?

Are you here to punish him for forcing you to deal with the ugliness next door? The ugliness that you party and skirt around every Friday night? What happened yesterday wasn't a mistake. Yesterday happened, because Pete Anderson is a violent man who has been getting away with it since he got here, and he did not want to be talked to. And what you saw was Rick driven to frustration, because he realizes, like I realize, that you can't hope to fight against what's out there when you're unwilling to confront what's in here. When you're unwilling to protect each other. Who Rick is...is who you're gonna be. If you're lucky."

Prosecution counselors, your closing argument, please.

While Michonne returned to her spot, Deanna opened her mouth to speak. Whether to continue the meeting or reprimand Michonne for ignoring her guideline, the audience didn't know. And they never found out, because Rick walked into the meeting and dropped a dead body on the lawn, effectively capturing everyone's attention. The ones who'd been sitting jumped out of their seat.

"There wasn't a guard at the gate," he said, tense and breathless, his face and jacket spattered with walker blood. "It was open. Three of 'em got in."

Deanna turned to Spencer for an explanation.

"I asked Gabriel to close it," he offered.

"Go," Deanna instructed, her voice tightened by alarm and anger.

"I didn't bring it in," Rick explained to the audience while pointing at the dead walker. "It got inside on its own. They always will, the dead and the living, because we're in here. The ones out there: they'll hunt us; they'll find us. They'll try to use us. They'll try to kill us. But we'll kill them. We'll survive. I'll show you how.

You know, this whole day I was thinkin'. I was thinkin': how many of you might I have to kill to save your lives? But there's no need for that. You're gonna change. You have to change. Because if it was you that saw this thing at the front gate, would you have been able to stop it? Would you have been able to stop them? Or would you have been the first casualty?

I'm not sorry about what I said yesterday. I'm sorry for not saying it sooner. You're not ready," he said to Deanna. "But you have to be. Right now. You have to be. Luck runs out," he said to her people.

Still shocked by the rank dead body on the lawn and the bloody man in front of them, the audience numbly shifted their attention to the person who appeared behind Rick.

Noticing, Rick turned around and saw Pete ambling into the gathering.

"You're not one of us. You're not one of us!" Pete declared, hatred for Rick and the turmoil he's brought lacing his voice. Hatred for Carol and what his life has become since they arrived to Alexandria. Hatred for Jessie and how easily she'd bought into Rick and his people.

"Pete, please," Jessie said, more annoyed than anything else.

It was Reg who tried to calm him down, leaving Deanna's side to go talk to him. "Pete, you don't wanna do this."

"Get the hell away from me, Reg," he gritted as he continued making his way to Rick.

As the men bickered, joined then by Deanna, Rick's hand moved to the gun Michonne had given him.

"Do it now," Carol whispered beside him, knowing a perfect opportunity when she saw one, relieved that Pete had proved himself perfectly predictable, although she hadn't expected him to show up to the meeting.

Michonne saw her sword at Pete's side right when he raised the hand holding it to push Reg away. The blade sliced through clean, and the air rushed up from Michonne's chest as she watched blood spurt out of the side of Reg's neck. She went numb to Jessie's shocked scream, and the gasps, and whoever tackled Pete.

It was Abraham. Abraham had his knee in the middle of Pete's back and was twisting one of his arms behind him as Deanna panicked at the sight of her husband choking on his own blood. Michonne wasn't sure if Deanna knew it, but Reg was dying. There was no bringing him back from such a wound, so Michonne wished him peace and shifted her attention when she felt Rick move.

Something about his movement, slow, calculating, told her right away that he was going to kill someone. She actually wasn't sure who for a second, the shock from Pete's actions with her sword making her brain run slower, but then she settled on Pete. Pete was the one Rick was going to kill.

"This is him! This is all him!" Pete screamed, and Michonne wasn't sure that he realized what he'd done.

Michonne looked at Reg when he went quiet, and she inwardly cursed.

"It's him!" Pete screamed, and now Michonne wanted him to die. He was too stupid and ignorant to live.

She watched Deanna raise her head to look at Rick, and she couldn't help but ask herself what was going to happen after tonight.

"Rick?" Deanna asked shakily, whispering fresh loss. "Do it."

Michonne's eyes snapped up to Rick. He turned to Pete and fired one shot into his skull, making Abraham jump off of him.

Jessie's scream pierced the tense night.

"Be Quiet," Carol scolded impatiently. Who knew if there were more walkers around the community?

"Rick?"

Michonne turned her attention to the soft uttering of Rick's name, so different from how Deanna had sounded a second ago. For a moment, she wondered who the hell she was looking at. Then she remembered Morgan Jones. Daryl and Aaron on either side of him.

She turned back to Deanna but had a completely separate thought: Carol was happy now.

Jessie ran to Pete, and no one stopped her.

"He's gonna turn," Eugene warned her in a panic.

"He ain't coming back," Rick said, the confidence in his voice at odds with the confusion in his eyes as he stared at Morgan.

Michonne looked at Carol. As if she sensed her gaze, Carol looked at her. And Michonne saw it in her face. Acknowledgment.

Rick's words came back to her. Carol thinks it might be a matter of scarin' 'em….But I think she's thinking of something more….violent.

Yeah. Carol was happy now.