The mood was grim in the Infirmary, unnecessary chatter kept to a minimum as they each tried to avoid acknowledging the elephant in the room - although this particular elephant was currently bitching and moaning as Glenn and Abraham washed the mace out of his eyes with baby shampoo. Tolerating the painful sting as Denise dabbed at the cuts on his face with disinfectant, Rick looked towards the hallway where Michonne was standing as an extra guard, backing up Abraham and Glenn. There was little doubt that Pete was going no where, not with his hands cuffed behind his back and his eye balls feeling like they were on fire, but they were determined to be cautious. He'd already proven himself extremely violent with the right provocation, and none of them needed a reenactment of what he had tried to do to Rick…or to Jessie.
While Denise applied small strips of medical tape to the cuts on his face, Maggie and Rosita were tending to the cuts on his scalp, shoulders and back. Going as gently as they could, they were pulling shards of glass from his skin, dabbing at the wounds with disinfectant and then taping the larger ones up. It was a slow but necessary process, and as he resisted the urge to rub his own sore eyes, which must have caught a little of the mace too, he looked up at Denise's request. With a steady hand she applied fine strips of tape across the cuts on his cheek and nose, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Each strip of tape that held the cuts together brought relief from the sting, and as per her instructions he tried to keep his facial features as still as possible, giving the tape time to properly adhere to his skin.
"Unless you're willing to let Pete stitch you up," Denise began apologetically. "These cuts on your face are probably going to scar."
Rick smiled in amusement, though he hastily relaxed his features as he felt the tape pulling. "He'd sooner take out my eye with the needle."
"Well," she started awkwardly, adding a little more tape to the cut that curved around his eyebrow. "Yeah…right now that's probably true. These ones on your jaw you can hide with some stubble…as for the rest? I hope you're happy with being runner up in a beauty contest."
Grateful for her attempt to inject some humour into the tense moment, Rick thanked her quietly. He would quietly admit to himself that he was feeling shaken by what had just happened, by the sudden way his plans had spun completely out of his control. His haste to retrieve the gun Pete had threatened Jessie with meant their timeline for Pete's removal was brought forward far too quickly, the resultant situation leaving Jessie an absolute mess. On one hand Rick felt badly for forcing her into this situation by going to get the gun and being caught in the process, while on the other hand he knew he had no choice. There was no way he could let Pete come home and have access to a gun. No matter how calm things seemed, a man like Pete could turn in an instant, and with access to a gun and the right provocation, he could have killed someone in seconds, far too quickly for anyone on watch to intervene. Rick knew he had made the right choice in going to get the gun straight away, though he still cursed the construction crew's awful timing. They'd arrived back less than five minutes after the fight concluded. Had they been ten minutes earlier, things could have gone very differently.
Jessie would be alright for the time being. She had Carrie and Carol by her side, helping her pack some things for Pete to take, while also trying to manage Ron and Sam's handling of the situation. Thinking of Ron, of the way he had tried to defend his father, Rick knew he couldn't hold his behaviour against him. Ron was fifteen, he was a child. He shouldn't be held accountable to the way he reacted to a very dire situation, particularly when Pete's violence and manipulation had controlled his life for so many years. Ron loved his father no matter what, and Rick needed to acknowledge that going forward. He was just another aspect of this situation that needed to be properly managed.
With a long sigh he got to thinking about Carl. During the fight Carl had darted forward in a panic, fearfully yelling for him, and in the moment that Rick turned around to push his son out of harm's way his distraction had allowed Pete to gain possession of the confiscated gun. That was what had shaken him most, the feeling of the hard metal tip pressed against his lower stomach as he turned back around with horrifying realisation. He'd reacted too slowly, mentally paralysed by the fear for his life that he felt, for in that moment he didn't recall emptying the chamber of the gun. In that moment, he was facing the possible end of his life, and the fear had been genuine.
Kicking himself mentally, Rick hated to think about his reaction, or his lack thereof. Pete had pulled the trigger before Rick disarmed him. If that gun had indeed been loaded, Rick's slow reaction would have been his death sentence. Dwelling on it, he tried to figure out what it was that had stalled his normally swift reactions…Carl had been close by, and he'd also been dimly aware of Carrie screaming. Was that it? Was the combination of two people he loved being nearby Pete with a loaded gun enough to distract him from his own safety?
"Hey," he flinched, feeling a rather sharp pain on his upper arm where Rosita was working.
"Sorry," she apologised softly, though her eyes widened in triumph a moment later. "I win," she declared, using her tweezers to show them the piece of glass she'd removed from his arm. Half an inch in length, it was thankfully the largest piece so far. "Beat that."
Getting more and more frustrated with how long this was taking, he watched as Denise carefully dabbed away the blood on his hands, determining the sources of it and then investigating the cuts for more shards of glass. They'd been at this for twenty minutes now, twenty minutes in which Rick should have been attending to other things. He hated sitting stationary like this, for he continually got the feeling that there was something he had missed, something he had forgotten to do. Replaying the events of that afternoon, he tried to pinpoint exactly what it was that was bothering him. He knew he'd need to speak to Deanna, to debrief with her, and then he'd need to speak to Pete too…but there was something else too.
A low whistle from Michonne distracted him from his thoughts, and he looked up at her. She jerked her head down the hallway, and the sound of voices growing louder indicated that Pete was coming out. Watching on in interest, he hid the smile that wanted to cross his face upon seeing Pete emerge from the hallway. Like him, Pete had suffered from the shattered glass, his face, hair and shoulders covered in smears and droplets, but it was his eyes that really warmed Rick's heart. Still suffering from the mace, Pete's eyes were watery and bloodshot, his eyelids puffy and red. As he came out escorted by Abraham, his hands cuffed behind his back, the look he gave Rick was one of pure loathing.
"We're ready for some first aid," Abraham said, leading Pete into the room at the front of the infirmary.
At this, Denise gave a reluctant sigh, her expression glum as she looked at Rosita. "Scissors, Paper, Rock?"
"He's going to need stitches. You don't want the pleasure of sticking a needle through his skin before the local anaesthetic takes effect?" she questioned wryly.
Denise shook her head. "Knowing Pete, he'd suck all the fun out of it."
Understanding the root of Denise's reluctance, for Pete was nothing short of a bully to her, Rosita nodded in agreement and then pulled off her gloves. With the parting warning that Denise owed her, she collected some supplies and then followed Pete into the front room. While Denise took up her position at the back of his shoulder, Rick picked up the spare tweezers and occupied himself with his hands and forearms, pulling a few more shards out. The three of them fell into silence as they worked, Rick in deep thought about what he was going to do next. He would confer with Deanna about the longer term arrangements, but for now at least they would accommodate Pete in the Infirmary over night. He could sleep on the hospital bed with one hand cuffed to the frame and a guard to watch over him…given the violence he had displayed that afternoon, and the prior planning required to steal a gun from Rick he knew better than to underestimate Pete's determination.
"Shit," he swore under his breath, coming to a startling realisation. He sat up a little straighter, his mind racing as his eyes widened in horror. The gun Pete had…he had stolen it from him.
"What is it?" Maggie asked, looking at him in alarm when he stood up.
"I have to go," he said shortly, not wanting to explain until he was sure of what he was thinking.
"Wait," Denise immediately protested. "You need to let us finish."
"I'll come back," he assured her, looking around for his shirt. Finding it in tatters on the floor, he picked it up and shook out the remaining glass before slipping it over his shoulders. Securing a few buttons, he glanced towards the front room where Pete was, briefly considering the idea of confronting him about it.
Ignoring Denise's protests, Rick swiftly departed the infirmary and headed for home, flinching as his shirt brushed against open cuts. Hearing footsteps, he was unsurprised to find Maggie hastily catching up with him, and he knew he'd have to fill her in. The way her hand rested on her swollen belly, twenty six weeks pregnant now, served to remind him exactly why he was taking such risks with the way he handled Pete. He couldn't kill him, no matter how justified it would have felt. She was developing preeclampsia, her high blood pressure worsened by the spectre of family history for the condition. The health of both Maggie and her baby were of great concern, and it would be neglectful to deny that they needed Pete for that.
"Rick? Would you please tell me what's going on?" she asked bluntly, her southern accent making her sound all the more stern.
As they walked past Jessie's house he glanced up at the broken window, hearing the sound of an argument between Jessie and Ron. This was not going to be an easy transition for the family, not now anyway. Seeing her sweeping glass on the front porch he avoided catching Carrie's eye when she looked up, not wanting to worry her or stop her from what she was doing.
"The gun Pete had? The one I went to get? I think it's mine."
"How could he get one of your guns?" Maggie tried to reason with him. "You open your safe twenty times a day, you would have noticed it missing."
"I have another safe too," he explained, knowing she was referring to the safe they kept by the front door. "I kept a gun after the supply run, just in case. It's in a safe in my room, but he must have known about it."
"That's unlikely, especially if it was in your room."
"I'm telling you," he insisted, lowering his voice as he came home. "It's my gun, I know it."
As he crossed the ground floor he took note that Sam was sitting on their couch next to Carl, his face red and tear stained as he hid from the upheaval that was going on at home. Rick felt terribly, for he had assured Sam that telling him about Pete's gun wouldn't cause him any trouble. There was no way Sam would come to him again with a problem, not after what his honesty had resulted in today. Giving Carl a nod of approval, glad to see him comforting Sam, he and Maggie raced up stairs to the master bedroom where the safe was kept. Wasting no time trying to be neat about it, he yanked down the empty packs he and Carl had taken on the supply run and then brushed aside an array of clothing and blankets that found their way up onto the top shelf. Placing his foot on one of the lower shelves, he pulled himself up and reached for the heavy safe.
The moment he pulled it down Rick could tell that he was on the right track, for absent from the top was a layer of dust. This safe ought not have been touched since the last time they had accessed it, the day he sent Carl to store the simulation gun that had been confiscated from Ron almost a month ago. Setting the safe onto one of the lower shelves,he entered the four digit combination and then turned the handle, already knowing what he was going to find. Just as he expected, only the black simulation glock and magazine remained.
"That son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath, showing Maggie the contents. "There should have been a Colt Detective Special in here. Pete knew about this."
"What was the combination?" she asked, looking worried.
"L-o-r-i. Not exactly Fort Knox, I know," he admitted. "But it should have shut down after three wrong attempts. He can't have guessed Lori that…" Trailing off wearily, he touched his fingers to the bridge of his noise out of habit, feeling the cut that stung almost as much as his realisation. He knew how Pete had done it, how he had gained access.
Filled with frustration, for he had truly underestimated Pete, he headed into his bathroom and opened the third drawer of the vanity. He crouched down and looked at the underside of the third drawer. Over two months ago he had taped one of the spare keys to the safe here and then hadn't used it since, and ought to still be there. Though it was exactly where he had left it, a quick inspection was all he needed to see that the tape had been pulled back and replaced…but the recovered revolver was the least of his concerns now. The key to his personal safe was not the only key he kept on the underside of the bathroom drawer, there was also two keys to the large gun safes he kept in the garage. The tape securing one of those keys had also been pulled back and replaced.
Furious now, Rick flew to his feet and raced downstairs, not having time to answer Maggie's questions. As he reached the ground floor he went into the living room first, grabbing Carl's attention and gesturing for him to get up. As Maggie reached the halfway landing and started voicing her concerns, Rick went straight into the garage that only an hour ago he and Carrie had been cleaning and organising. Going straight to the first gun safes he entered the code and turned the heavy handle, his heart falling into the pit of his stomach at what he saw.
"Fuck!" he swore loudly, taking a second look. But no matter how thoroughly he looked through the safe, the top shelf was short two hand guns.
"Dad? What's going on?" Carl asked in worry, already on knife's edge from the brutal fight he had been witness to.
Gritting his teeth, Rick made sure to keep himself level headed as he spoke to his son. He took a deep breath, needing to keep his tone even. "Carl, I don't care if you've done something, but I need the know the truth, okay? The absolute truth."
Carl looked at him startled, but he slowly nodded in understanding.
"Have you told anyone about the gun we have in our closet?" he asked plainly, keeping his temper. "Anyone at all?"
"No," he answered immediately, emphasising this. "No way, I haven't told anyone."
"Not even your friends? I won't be mad, Carl, I just need the truth."
"I haven't told anyone," he insisted, following Maggie further into the garage and looking into the safe. "Oh, crap…"
"What about Ron?" Rick forced himself to ask, lowering his voice when he saw Sam hovering in the living room, his face red with tear stains. "Did you show him? Or might he have seen it when you guys were hanging out upstairs?"
Carl looked uncertain for a few moments. "I didn't show him, I swear. But maybe…I mean maybe he saw the safe…he might have seen it when I was getting my old pack down to show him."
Taking a deep breath, Rick looked at Maggie. "Maggie," he started, needing some indication as to what she was thinking. "The day Pete is discovered with a gun he had to have stolen from my safe, two other guns go missing from my safe?"
She seemed to give this thorough consideration, and when she looked up at him her resolve was certain. "That's no coincidence…we need to find those guns. Now."
How the hell did they end up here?
It was now approaching midnight, but there was no light at the end of the tunnel that indicated any of them were going to get sleep that night. Her head weary and her body aching, Carrie rubbed her eyes as she took a break from her work, rolling her shoulders back as she looked around the bedroom she was currently searching. She had been helping to search Jessie's house since the discovery that Pete had stolen two more guns from the first house, Rick determined that none of them rest until they were recovered. While ever Pete had access to two armed guns, he posed a threat to them all, not just his immediate family.
"I don't know how you knew about my gun," Rick began darkly, his entire group surrounding him as he confronted Pete in the infirmary. "Or how you knew where to find the key…but I'm going to do you a favour and make this simple for you."
Pete just looked up at him blankly, his eyes still red and puffy from Michonne's mace. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do." Pulling the revolver from the back of his jeans, Rick showed it to him. "This gun? The one you threatened your family with, the one you tried to shoot me with? This is mine. You stole it from my personal safe, and then you stole two more hand guns from my safe in the garage. Are you denying that?"
Pete shrugged, his voice full of condescension. "I don't suppose you have any…evidence?"
Not taking his bait, Rick simply continued, sharing a glance with Deanna as he laid out what was going to happen next. "Like I said, I'm going to make this simple for you. Tell me where you've put those two other guns, or I'm going to make your life hell until they're found."
Scoffing, Pete seemed unconcerned. "Go ahead."
"Pete," Deanna snapped, starting forward and unfolding her arms. Until now she had been a silent observer on the scene, but she stepped up now. "I don't think you are aware of how thin the ice you skate is. You've been abusing your family, you attacked our constable, and then you tried to kill him. Now he tells me you've stolen two more guns from him? That is unacceptable. I demand that you turn over those guns immediately."
Pete looked at her incredulously, his lips curling into a snarl as he suddenly stood up. "You're siding with him?" he questioned loudly. "He's got nothing on me. Nothing!"
Raising his hand for silence, Rick stepped forward. "Sit down, Pete…sit down!" he shouted, his tone leaving no room for argument, even from Pete. When he sat back down on the bed Rick continued. "Is this how you want to play it? Is it?"
"Yes," Pete smiled, his response a clear challenge.
There was a short pause as Rick looked down at him, considering his next move. "Carrie. Pick yourself a team, and take them to Jessie's house to start searching. Turn it upside down. I mean every room, every cupboard, drawer, air vent, pillow, cushion. Search every inch until you find something. Rosita, pick your team and do the same here in the Infirmary. Abraham. Your team should get the metal detectors. Search every square inch of dirt inside these walls, including the compost, gardens and cemetery. Michonne, your team can start talking to residents. Find out every place they've ever seen Pete in the last month, and then follow up." Never taking his eyes off Pete, Rick paused and let this sink in. "Is that a good start, Pete?"
Shrugging, Pete looked away and ignored the question.
"If we don't find those guns by tomorrow morning, we'll start searching the residents' houses…if anyone has a problem with us upheaving their homes, I'll send them to discuss the matter with you. Until these guns are found, this is the community's only priority. No school, no book club, no construction, no pantry duty…only this."
"I agree," Deanna stated supportively. "Pete? Are you prepared for us to upheave your family even more? Are you prepared for us to upheave every single resident?"
"You're making a mistake…I didn't steal your guns."
"That's probably true," Rick admitted, much to everyone's surprise. "No, what's more likely is that you manipulated Ron into doing it. You make him do a lot of things, don't you? You make him lie, you make him ignore what you do to his mother, what you do to him. It's no stretch to think you could make him do this."
Yet again, Pete had no response for this, only further supporting what it was Rick had said. Satisfied with the plan, Rick turned and looked at those he had named. "Get started."
That was how Carrie found herself standing in Ron Anderson's bedroom at close to midnight, exhauster as she looked around and wondered if this was all just a wild goose chase. After hours of searching Jessie's entire house it was indeed beginning to feel that way, for there had been no sign of the other two stolen guns. Exhausted, she sank down onto the bed and rubbed her face wearily, flinching when she aggravated the bruise under her right eye. She didn't know what to do next…she'd looked everywhere in this bedroom, but something told her to stay and keep looking.
Opening her eyes, she looked around for anything she might have missed, listening as Sasha rummaged around in Sam's bedroom next door. Ron's bedroom was exactly what one would expect from a fifteen year old boy, and with the exception of half a mouldy sandwich and a Playboy magazine hidden in the back of his closet, so far there had been no surprises. He was predictably untidy, his bedroom an assortment of candy wrappers, clothing, half hearted school work and video games, the cords of which Carrie had tripped over twice before she neatly packed it all away in the TV unit.
She hated to be doing this to Jessie, to be the one turning her house inside out in search of something her husband had stolen, but when she thought about it, she knew she was the right person to coordinate the task. It would be better for Jessie's friend to search her house rather than someone like Abraham, someone who she didn't know and trust to the extent she did Carrie. When the search had begun, Jessie had stopped packing Pete's belongings and started on her own, unable to spend the first night without her husband in her own home. She and Sam were spending the night in Carrie's bedroom, Carol having looked after them well and made them feel as at home as possible, but it had to be a difficult way to start the new phase in her life. Unsurprisingly, Ron had been less than enthusiastic about the arrangements, opting instead to spend the night with his father in the Infirmary, submitting himself to be under full guard along side him.
Leaning forward, Carrie put her head in her hands with a long sigh, wondering when things were ever going to settle down for more than a few days at a time. It seemed like there was always something…there was always a problem to be addressed, an issue to be resolved, and the complications never seemed to cease. First the Wolf sighting, then Aidan and Noah's deaths, keeping things secret from Carl, Jessie's safety, Rick's fight with Pete…now two stolen guns. It felt like a long list of never ending problems, and Carrie resigned herself to the knowledge that life was unlikely to be simple, no matter how much she longed for it.
Hearing footsteps and a familiar voice, she raised her head and looked towards the hallway, seeing shadows moving. She listened as Rick interrupted Sasha from her search of Sam's bedroom, the two of them talking quietly for a few minutes. Their voices were indistinguishable, and she hoped that when he was finished with Sasha he would come and see her. Waiting for him, she crossed her fingers in the hopes that the guns had been found, that they could all go home and rest easily. She was more than physically exhausted…she was mentally and emotionally exhausted after bearing witness to the awful fight between Rick and Pete. Dwelling on that again, she felt her heart clench as she remembered the moment Pete pointed the gun at Rick's lower stomach and pulled the trigger, the gut wrenching fear that he was about to die.
It was a relief to hear him coming down the hall, distracting her from the awful memory of that afternoon. She looked up and watched as he came to the end of the hallway, the light falling across his face as he leant against the door frame in the threshold of Ron's room. Like she, Rick was exhausted from that afternoon and evening, but for him it showed a little more. His face was a testament to the brutal fight he had endured. Small strips of medical tape dotted his face, the stark white colour emphasising the bruise beginning to form on his forehead. Despite his injuries, he hadn't stopped for long that afternoon. Submitting to Denise's insistence that she finish patching him up, he'd let her finish and then joined Abraham's group, using metal detectors to search every part of Alexandria possible.
"Did you find anything outside?" she enquired, speaking first when he didn't.
He shook his head slowly. "Some shell casings…a couple of bucks in change. No guns. You?"
"Oh, just something that resembled a mouldy sandwich, and a Playboy magazine."
To her surprise Rick cracked a smile at this, shaking his head wearily. "Christ," he muttered to himself, likely wondering if Carl had seen the latter. "How do kids even find that shit these days?"
"Well I don't know…how did you find dirty magazines when you were their age?" she asked, trying to lift both of their moods. As she had hoped, Rick smiled again.
"I did what every other teenage boy did. I stole them from my dad."
Chuckling at the thought of a fifteen year old Rick stealing dirty magazines, Carrie smiled up at him, glad to see his face and body language relaxing. Despite everything that had happened that afternoon they took a moment in which they could enjoy one another's company, Carrie thinking back on their day together. It felt like days since they had cleaned and organised the garage together, not mere hours. She'd been pleasantly surprised when he'd asked for her help, and she hadn't needed much convincing. If there was an opportunity to spend time alone with Rick, regardless of whether or not they were working, she'd take it willingly. They'd worked well together, frequently stealing kisses or quick gropes throughout the day. But like every other time they were able to spend time with each other, it simply wasn't meant to last.
"You okay?" Rick enquired, picking up on her mood.
She nodded quickly, but there was no point denying that she was disheartened by the turn of events. With everything that had happened today, and Ron's difficult reaction to what Rick had done, would be they be able to tell Carl about their relationship when they planned to? Surely things would settle down over the weekend, and their anticipated schedule of Tuesday would go ahead as planned…unless Rick found reason to stall. Carrie rid herself of this thought as soon as it occurred. Rick hadn't stalled their plans to tell Carl because he didn't want to, or because it meant less to him than it did to her…he was doing what was right for Carl, and she no right to hold that against him.
"Why do you think Pete stole these guns?" she asked, trying to fill the silence. "I understand stealing one, but three?"
Sighing, Rick shifted his weight between his feet. "The first one was for him. For power, to intimidate his family. The other two? They were for me. Stealing my guns right out of my home? This is personal for him."
The latter remark brought about something she had been thinking about all week. She knew Rick harboured a preference to exile or kill Pete rather than deal with him in the way he was now, a notion she could not support."Rick," she started. "You know we can't kill him."
"I know."
"We need him too much. He-"
"I know!" he snapped angrily.
His sudden frustration startled her, as did the dark expression on his face, but this faded quickly. As he apologised under his breath, so too did Carrie. She didn't know why she had brought that up, especially now. Rick knew what he was doing, he knew that they couldn't kill Pete…but the uncertainty she could sense from him left her feeling apprehensive about what he might do. There was an awkward silence for a few moments, neither of them quite knowing how to fill it.
"Problem is, Carrie…Pete could do a lot of harm, and not just to Jessie," he began to explain. "He could tell Carl about you and I, he could t-"
"That's why we should tell Carl ourselves."
"We talked about this," he said sharply, his tone getting away from him again. "Today, in fact."
Not liking the tone he was taking with her, Carrie subtly cleared her throat, making her point clear. Getting the hint, Rick apologised under his breath again.
"What happens if we don't find these guns?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Then he stays under armed guard twenty four seven until we do."
She resisted the urge to ask if he was absolutely sure the guns were missing, that there was no chance Daryl might have taken them with him recruiting, or someone else might have checked them out. Knowing Rick like she did, she trusted that he had already considered this possibility, that he wouldn't have dozens of people searching the community until they were found.
"I've sent everyone home for the night," he said quietly. "We should go too. We can start again in the morning."
Glad to be relieved of her duty, she gave a long sigh of relief as she slowly got to her feet. The idea of going home and sinking into bed was very welcome, regardless of the fact she'd be sleeping in Daryl's attic bedroom. However before she was ready to leave she paused and took one last look around the room, remembering the next place she had intended to search.
"Could you help me lift the mattress?" she requested, gesturing to her arm. "I tried, but I couldn't do it one my own."
Coming into the bedroom, Rick brushed his hand over her waist and kissed her cheek as he passed by. She relished the moment, the feeling of his touch and his lips against her cheek, and she reminded herself that one day soon a gesture like that would be normal. They wouldn't have to hide much longer. Helping him with the mattress as best she could, they each took a corner and then lifted it up, and what they were looking for was immediately apparent. A cut about half a foot in length had been made in the underside of the mattress, and they both knew what it was for before they even investigated.
"I got this," Rick began, holding the mattress up. "You check it…be careful."
Aware of the fact that if a gun was indeed hidden there it could be loaded, Carrie knelt on the bed frame and leant over to the slit in the mattress, gently sliding her fingers inside. Barely an inch into the padding she felt cold, hard metal, and she ran her fingers over the length of it until she was certain of what she could feel. Confident that she had the top of the slide, she gripped the sides and then wriggled the gun out. Setting it aside, she plunged her hand back into the slit and felt around, making absolutely sure that it was just the one.
Taking the gun and getting out of the way, she let Rick put the mattress back down and then took a proper look. "A SIG," she said softly, ejecting the magazine and then pulling back the slide. Upon finding the chamber empty, she locked the slide in place before passing it to Rick.
Dejectedly taking the gun, he looked it over before slipping the magazine and gun into the pocket of his jacket. "At least we know we're on the right track," he said softly, looking around Ron's bedroom.
Smoothing out the duvet, Carrie shared Rick's low spirit, not feeling triumphant despite what they had found. One gun had been recovered, and the other wouldn't be missing for much longer, of that she was sure…but she felt rather underwhelmed by the whole situation. She understood the root of this feeling, that it had been a very difficult couple of weeks.
"Do you think Ron knew the gun was there?" she asked, following Rick downstairs and turning off the lights as they went. It was strange to be alone in Jessie's house, the normally welcoming home feeling eerie as they left it empty. "Do you really think he stole them for Pete?"
"Yes, to both. He's fifteen, he's lived in domestic violence for a long time. He'd be easy for Pete to manipulate." As they left he slipped his hand into hers and entwined their fingers, and they fell into step with one another. "We can't hold it against him."
"What about the way he's treating Carl?" Raising their hands, she gently kissed the back of his bandaged hand, able to smell the disinfectant Denise had used to clean the cuts. "Do we hold that against him?"
Rick paused before he answered, thinking about this. "No. Ron's behaviour is immature, but to expected. He loves Pete, and Carl's part of the group trying to break his family apart."
"So, does Carl have to keep being his friend?" she enquired next, knowing that Rick had asked him to do that, to be a support for Ron during this time.
Sighing, Rick seemed to falter as he started to answer. "Not if doesn't want to," he decided, opening the front door and letting her inside the house first. He lowered his voice when he continued talking. "I won't make Carl hang around with someone who treats him like shit. That's not fair to him."
When she went to let go of his hand, Rick held it a little tighter, the motion making her look up at him. "What is it?"
"Do you something to drink?" he offered, stalling their inevitable departure to their respective beds.
"No, thank you," she said, shaking her head. "But I'll sit with you a little longer if you're having one."
Nodding in agreement, he pressed his lips to her forehead before letting go of her hand, heading into the garage to put away the first stolen gun while she sank down onto the couch. It was frustrating to think that only that afternoon she and Rick had been seated here, laughing and making fun of each other while Judith played nearby. The memory felt bittersweet, a reminder that the good parts of life didn't seem to last anymore. She couldn't help but feel that was going to be a running theme from now on, that happiness would be short lived in favour of complications and never ending problems. Listening as Rick bustled around the kitchen and poured himself a drink, she hoped that particular theme didn't run true for their relationship.
When he joined her, Rick sank down onto the couch on her left and set his drink aside, giving a long and weary sigh as he pulled off his boots and socks, letting them fall to the floor with a thud. Making himself comfortable in respect to his injuries, he put a few pillows under his left side and then gestured for Carrie to lean into his right. Knowing that the left side of his ribs bothered him occasion, that being the place he was shot on duty, she worried that he had aggravated that old injury during the fight that day. But if it was bothering him too much he didn't show it, instead thanking her as she leant into his embrace.
"Where are you sleeping tonight?"
"I'll take Daryl's room. I figured Jessie and Sam would be more comfortable having a bathroom to themselves, Sam in particular."
Rick nodded in agreement. "Sometimes kids get nervous in a strange house," he remarked, taking a sip of whisky. "It's been a difficult day for him."
"That's putting it lightly."
There was a comfortable silence now, the two of them sitting in near darkness as they reflected on the day, taking their one last opportunity to be together. They would be busy this weekend, for between taking care of their usual duties outside the walls, there was the second gun to search for, and then Pete and Jessie's separation to manage. Carrie didn't know how the finer details would be handled, what the precise rules would be for Pete…she supposed it depended on what Jessie wanted. That would be where Carrie came in, for while everyone else would be focused on the gun and Pete, she would need to be with Jessie. She had promised to be there throughout this process, to support her, to make sure her needs were heard. Carrie couldn't let her down after everything she'd done to support Rick's plan. Jessie's angry outburst from earlier had to be forgiven, Carrie choosing to exercise understanding rather than defensiveness.
"Do you think this is going to work?" she asked, enjoying the warmth of Rick's arm around her shoulders. "Making him stay away from Jessie? Making him cooperate?"
When Rick didn't reply straight away, she looked up half expecting to see him asleep, but he was thinking about his answer. "No," he said softly. "It's not going to work…but we have to try."
"Why won't it work?"
"Pete…he's got a grudge against me."
Carrie frowned, this having been the first she'd heard about a grudge. "A grudge about what?" she enquired, a little skeptic.
"About that day with the Wolf, when I wouldn't let him treat him. About me making him work with Denise, making him train people, making his family learn to use guns. He wants to be the only doctor here so that we need him, but I've made him almost replaceable. Now I've convinced his wife to throw him out. So obviously, he's not my biggest fan."
"Has he done something?" Worried, she sat up to look at him properly. Why hadn't he told her about any of this?
He nodded slowly, taking a long sip of his drink. "He's threatened to tell Carl about you and me…about Judith."
"Judith? What about her?"
Rick frowned, peering at her. "About Lori and Shane."
Realisation struck her, rendering her speechless for a moment. Long ago Rick had told her about what happened with Shane, about how he might be Judith's biological father. Given that it was a topic never discussed, Carrie had given it no more thought since the first and only discussion.
"How does Pete know that? Who told him?"
"No one. He figured it out when I wouldn't let him determine Judith's blood type. Now he's using it against me." His tone was factual, his words merely a recount of something he'd clearly been worrying about for a while now.
Taking in this news, a greater sense of understanding dawned on her. It was no wonder that Rick wanted Pete dead, that the agreement to let him stay in Alexandria had only been reached reluctantly. Carl had no idea what happened between Lori and Shane, had no idea that Judith might not be Rick's biological daughter…he was trying to keep it that way, while Pete threatened to tell him everything. It wasn't just Jessie that Rick was trying to protect, it was his children too.
"I had no idea," she said softly, placing her hand on his leg to get his attention. "I'm sorry he's doing that to you. Why didn't you tell me before this?"
He silent for a few moments before shrugging his shoulders restlessly. "He only made this a problem recently…he started threatening me the day Noah and Aidan died, while you were all in Washington. Given what happened then, it didn't seem kind of me to bring up more shit for you to deal with."
She understood his explanation, for after Aidan and Noah's death she hadn't been in the best shape, physically or emotionally. It wasn't unexpected for him to avoid telling her something like that during such a difficult time. The delay in telling Carl about their relationship was to protect him from dealing with too much at once, the same thing Rick had been trying to do for her by keeping his problem with Pete to himself.
"I get that you were letting me recover, that you were looking out for me," she began, rubbing the top of his leg to ensure she had his full attention. "But who's looking out for you?"
A small smile crossed his face. "Don't worry about me."
This response was predictable. "It's difficult not to, given the situation. Does anyone else know he's causing a problem for you?"
"Carol."
This response too was predictable, and she had suspected it before she even asked. Rick always shared things like this with his group members…but not often her. On this occasion, she wondered whether he was really just looking out for her as he claimed, or if he simply didn't value her input as much as the other's. With thoughts like this occurring to her, it was difficult not to resent the close relationships he had with the rest of his group. She knew she too was part of his group in every way that mattered, but every so often she got the feeling that she was slightly on the outer edges, the perpetual newcomer.
"So? Now what?"
"We find this other gun, and then we set some ground rules," he explained, finishing the rest of his drink. "We'll need to find out exactly how Jessie wants this, and we may have to keep a guard on Pete until he settles down. He can probably live in the Infirmary, there's plenty of room there."
"But, what about Carl and Judith?" she asked, clarifying her question. "If this grudge against you doesn't go away, what happens if he says something?"
"He won't."
Carrie was not satisfied. She understood Rick's preference to kill Pete given the situation…but she couldn't condone it. That was the major difference between them, the level of justification required to kill someone. "But what if he does? What would you do?"
"I will make sure he doesn't," he replied, his body language becoming closed off, his tone defensive.
Hesitating, she considered the risk of pushing the subject. "If Carl hears about us from someone else, he-"
Interrupting her, Rick swore under his breath as he sat forward on the couch. "Are you going to keep bringing that up? We already agreed on Tuesday, it's just a couple more days, that's all."
"We should have told him straight away, before all of this shit with Pete started."
"Thank you, that had occurred to me."
Carrie narrowed her eyes, annoyed by his condescending tone. He never spoke to her like that, he knew she wouldn't stand for it. While at first her instinct was to return his tone of voice, she chose a different tact. She took pause before she spoke, choosing her words carefully. "I just get the feeling that we're going to keep stalling, that we'll keep waiting and waiting for the perfect time. The longer we wait, the more likely he'll hear it from someone else."
"I know the risk I'm taking," he said lowly.
"It's not just your risk," she argued, keeping her tone even and calm. "It's my risk as well. His reaction affects me too."
"I don't want to talk about this now, we've got enough going on."
She shook her head. "That's not good enough, we need to talk about it."
"We did. Today," he said sharply, reaching the end of his tether. "We agreed to wait until Tuesday, nothing else has changed."
He stood up before she could stop him, making her instantly regret her tendency to push at him. "Rick, wait," she said quickly, she too standing up and then catching his elbow. "Dammit, Rick, wait!"
Slowing to a stop he turned back and looked at her, his expression indicating that he was ready for an argument, prepared to stand his ground. Not wanting that, she took his hand and then moved towards him. Though she didn't feel an apology was warranted, she ended their frustration with a soft kiss, glad when he reciprocated.
"I love you," she reminded him, feeling like it had been too long since she'd said those words.
As she expected it might, his body language softened at this reminder. "And I love you," he replied, pushing her hair behind her ear and then kissing her again.
The brief exchange was enough to soothe their frustration with one another, to remind them of why they were frustrated in the first place. They loved each other, and they were trying hard to make a new relationship work in the midst of problems and complications…that wasn't easy to do. Standing there in the dark living room they wound their arms around one another as they kissed, keeping their touches gentle so as to not aggravate their respective injuries.
"Let's go upstairs," he suggested in a low whisper, breaking their kiss.
Carrie moaned, thoroughly tempted. "But Carl."
"He's not expecting me back tonight," he assured her, already ushering her towards the stairs.
"But Daryl," she said next, doubting he'd appreciate his bed being defiled by them.
"He'll never know."
Convincing her, he brought his lips to hers in a lush kiss, his tongue brushing over the seam of her lips until she opened them for him. It didn't take much to convince her, particularly when she remembered the better part of the day they'd spent together, their earlier plans to spend the night together in the watch tower. She could taste the whiskey on his lips, and although she disliked the taste of the hard liquor she kissed him back fervently, wishing she could run her hands all over him like she usually did. But with the injuries he'd sustained she didn't want to risk hurting him, and so she kept her hands mostly to herself as he slowly led her up the stairs, their lips and hands parting only when they had to.
When they reached the first floor she broke away from his kiss and looked around, relieved to see that they'd caught a break. The only condoms they had access to were in her bedroom, and although Jessie and Sam currently occupied it, they had left the door wide open as they slept. She glanced at the double doors to the main bedroom to be absolutely sure that Carl would be oblivious, and then left Rick to wait as she crept down the hallway to her own bedroom. Although it was proving to be a convenience, she couldn't help but feel annoyed with Jessie leaving the door open while she slept. Everyone from Rick's group had been witness to something terrible that happened during the night, and they all understood why they had to leave their bedroom doors closed when they were their most vulnerable. The Alexandrian's had been asked many times to implement this practice, and it seemed not even Jessie had taken notice.
Despite her annoyance, Carrie also gave silent thanks for Jessie's complacency. Tentatively peering in and noting that Jessie had left the light on for Sam, she went to the nightstand by the door and opened it, grabbing a chain of condoms she kept in there. As she left she glanced at Sam and Jessie in the bed, unsurprised to see Jessie holding her son close. Though Sam was ten years old, he was soaking up Jessie's affection right now, his pale face and tear stained cheeks a reminder of the difficult time he was going through. Creeping out and leaving them to their privacy, Carrie closed the door and then returned to Rick.
"You can't stay the night," she reminded him as they sank down onto Daryl's bed together. Though she wanted him to spend the night with her, to feel like a real couple, she knew it couldn't happen. Carl might not be expecting Rick's return, but if he awoke tomorrow to find Rick's boots and gun at home but his bed not slept in, it might arouse suspicion.
"I know," he agreed lowly, flinching as he removed his shirt, exposing the myriad of cuts and bruises. "Soon though, I promise."
"I'm holding you to that," she assured him, looking him up and down to assess his injuries more closely.
Brushing his loose hair off his forehead, she very gently pressed her lips to the three cuts that surrounded his left eyebrow in a semi-circle, next kissing the one across his nose. The one on his nose was in a similar place to the cut on her own face, one she had acquired on the supply run to the solar panel warehouse. They'd both borne the brunt of various events recently, the impact of which left Carrie feeling on edge. What was going to happen next? Would they be prepared for it? Would be they see it coming?
Eager for him, to drown out the worries in her head, she glanced over her shoulder at the entrance to the attic. Without a dedicated door to separate the attic from the staircase, the only privacy Daryl's bedroom had from was a heavy curtain Carol had hung for him. While it allowed for some privacy, it wasn't exactly sound proof, and so she kept that in mind as she began to undress. Discarding her clothes while Rick did the same, she sat up on her knees and tried to convince him to lay down, to let her take care of him tonight. He seemed to protest for a few moments, until one wrong gesture on his part made him flinch, his jaw flexing as he tried to brush off her concern.
Finally relenting to her request, Rick gave a long sigh as he settled back into the pillows, his features visibly relaxing now that he was laying down. Sympathetic to his discomfort, she carefully straddled him and then ran her hands down his front, feeling the way his body flexed and moved beneath her. As he pulled her down to kiss him, she teasingly rubbed the peak of her legs over his erection, enjoying the sound of the groan he always made when she did that. Reminding him to be quiet, she grinned as she sealed her lips over his and repeated the motion, enjoying the sensations. It didn't take long for Rick to lose patience, and he swiftly rolled them over, though without his usual finesse.
"I love you," he murmured against her neck, hooking her leg around his hips as he settled down over her.
"Condom," she whispered urgently, pushing at his shoulder.
He swore under his breath as he pulled away, hastily looking around for wherever they had been tossed aside. "Thank God you manage to keep your head," he muttered.
Rolling her eyes, Carrie agreed with his remark. No matter how caught up in the moment they were, she couldn't allow them to risk going without contraception. Welcoming him back when he returned to her, she wound her hand into his hair as they kissed languidly. "I love you too," she told him. "Now give it up," she teased, nudging his hip to make him get off her. "With what happened today, you're not going to last two minutes being on top."
To her pleasant surprise, Rick grinned in amusement, actually laughing as he moved off her and resumed his former position. "You're wrong," he protested. "But alright."
"Shhhh," she whispered, conscious of their voices carrying downstairs. "Just let me take care of you tonight."
"I won't argue with that."
As she straddled his hips and settled down over him Carrie paused for a moment, glad that the darkness would hide her face, that he wouldn't see how worried she was when she spoke next. "Tuesday," she whispered, reminding him on their agreement to tell Carl.
Her good hand was resting on his lower stomach, it's proximity encouraging him to take it in his own and entwine their fingers. "Tuesday," he agreed, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it. "I promise."