Author's Note: Two updates in one week. I'm on a roll!
xoxo - Holly
"Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or lose." — Lyndon B. Johnson
As the sun shined brightly outside, signifying such a warm day ahead, inside the main house was even more picturesque. The temperature was much cooler thanks to the air conditioning that worked within all the homes in Alexandria, the sounds of Boston's "More Than a Feeling" were wafting through the air and life had just generally found its way of becoming normal again.
While Rick was cutting a new notch into his belt from the little bit of weight he'd put on in the last month, the sound of a consistent thud echoed from out in the hall outside his and Georgie's bedroom. Georgie, meanwhile, was lacing up her boots on the floor beside Judith and pretending to be surprised when the little girl covered her pacifier with a red Solo cup and then lifted the cup off as if she'd just performed a magic trick. Rick grinned happily at his two favorite girls as he pulled his belt on, and then grabbed for his utility belt that was lying on the bed.
"Do you have any toothpaste left?" Michonne asked as she suddenly poked her head into the bedroom, wrapped in a light blue bathrobe and with her dreads pulled into the towel on the top of her head.
"No," Rick replied. "Someone's been borrowing it every day for two weeks."
"Hey don't put that blame on Michonne alone," Georgie quipped, standing up and walking over to the edge of the belt to grab up her own utility belt. "I gave it to her."
The thudding sound became more prominent and Michonne rolled her eyes and smirked at the couple in the bedroom as she turned her head. "Carl!"
"What?" came the teenager's moody response. "Denise says it's PT."
"I can't hear you; come on out," Rick bellowed, a mischievous grin on his lips as he eyed Georgie.
"You're terrible," she snickered.
"What?" Carl pressed.
"Denise says it's PT," both father and son said at the same time as Carl appeared in the doorway holding a tennis ball in his hand.
"You heard me," the teen deduced with a smile that suggested he was contemplating throwing the tennis ball at his father's head.
"Yeah, he heard you," Georgie assured as Rick emitted a small chuckle. Throwing Rick a knowing look, she shook her head at him and adjusted her utility belt around her waist while Rick was finishing up doing the same.
"It's time to change your bandage, and I need to borrow some toothpaste," Michonne informed the boy.
"Okay, but I'm out of toothpaste," Carl responded, tossing the tennis ball to Rick, who promptly caught it. "Bye, Dad."
"See ya later," Rick called after as his son disappeared, most likely to head back into his room to await Michonne changing his bandage for him.
As Georgie shoved her hunting knife into its sheath and her gun into its holster, Georgie turned to see Rick lifting Judith up into his arms; a sight that always brought a smile to her face. As he adjusted the eleven-month-old's dress so it covered her diapered bottom, Georgie reached out a hand and brush her fingers along the soft blonde tufts of hair.
"C'mon, sweetheart," Rick murmured, pressing his lips to his daughter's head.
Running a hand through her own, much thicker and unruly hair, Georgie began to follow Rick out of their bedroom and into the hallway.
"You two be good out there," Michonne advised.
"Yeah, we'll see," Rick replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. "And, thank you," he added, low-fiving Michonne's hand; acknowledging her tending to Carl's bandage change.
As Rick head straight for the stairs, Michonne pointed at him. "Spearmint and baking soda. That's my favorite," she called out.
"Yeah, soon as I get it, you will," he replied, tossing the tennis ball back to her.
Casting her dark eyes over to Georgie, Michonne eyed the redhead knowingly. "Make sure he comes back with that toothpaste or don't let him come back at all."
Georgie laughed. "Will do," she nodded, as both women bumped fists with each other.
Following Rick downstairs, the headed into the kitchen where Carol was already waiting for them, holding a thermos of coffee and plastic baggie of apple slices in either hand. Setting both items onto the counter, the older female grabbed for Judith and then gestured to the thermos and baggie with a nod of her head.
"Some human fuel for the road while you're out on your run," she informed.
While Rick narrowed his eyes at the apple slices, Georgie was more prompt at looking thankful. "Thank you, Carol."
After receiving a nudge to his side from Georgie's elbow, Rick repeated the sentiment. "Yeah, uh, thank you." Then, "What's in the thermos? Spaghetti-O's?"
"It's coffee, you idiot," Carol responded with a roll of her eyes which sparkled a little with amusement. "Drink it sparingly, too. We're running out of it."
"Well, that's why we're going on this run. More supplies."
"Anything you want while we're out there?" Georgie asked, taking the thermos and the baggie into her hands. "Michonne's already made a request for spearmint toothpaste."
"Hmm," Carol considered. "I wouldn't say no to some trashy romance novels."
Rick made a face. "You serious?"
Carol shrugged. "You'll never know."
With a laugh, Georgie shook her head and just patted Rick's back to urge him forward. After they both kissed Judith goodbye, the couple headed out of the house and made their way up the street toward the townhouses where most of the vehicles were parked. As the pair sauntered over to the 2008 Chrysler 300 LX, which Rick had found in the garage of a home they'd scavenged only a week before on another supply run, Daryl came heading over to them with backpack slung over his shoulder.
Just beyond them, the wall around Alexandria had been successfully expanded with a new wall while the construction crew was in the process of dismantling the old wall, revealing an actual church for Gabriel to use, but also doubled as a meeting place like it had for people in past centuries. There were also two more houses added into the mix.
"We good to go?" Daryl asked, shoving a piece of paper into his pocket.
"We are," Rick confirmed, and then gestured to what piece of paper. "What was that?"
"Just a list of shit Denise gave me. Food, medicine, pop."
"What the hell's pop?"
"That's what I said," the archer remarked. "Apparently it's what people in Ohio call soda."
"Not just Ohio," Georgie informed. "Most, if not all, of the states around the Great Lakes say pop. I went to college in Rochester, New York and they all said pop there. I was the oddball out."
Daryl just nodded at that tidbit and then tossed his backpack into the backseat. "You want shotgun?" he asked her.
"Nah," she shook her head. "You boys can have the front for now. I'll take shotgun on the way home."
"Sounds fair."
Rick looked between his woman and his best friend and smiled.
As the three of them climbed into the Chrysler, with Rick behind the wheel, they drove off toward the gate which was pulled open for them by Eugene. As the car idled, Daryl rolled the window down as Eugene pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and leaned in with it as all three inside the car stared back at him. As he unfolded the paper, he handed it off to Daryl.
"I mapped out some of the agricultural supply places in the area. Even if they've been cleaned out, my bet is that the sorghum would be untouched."
"What's sorghum?" Georgie inquired from the backseat.
"That there is a criminally underrated grain that could change the game with our food situation from scary to hunky-dunky."
"Hunky du—never mind," Georgie muttered, leaning back. Better not to tempt the beast, and in this case it meant not to get Eugene on a roll with explain shit.
As 'Mullet Man' looked back and forth between Rick and Daryl, he added, "I'm talking standability, drought tolerance, grain-to-stover ratio that is the envy of all corns. Think about it."
"Thanks," Daryl muttered, looking up at Eugene.
"Alright. Okay."
As Rick stared at Eugene like a jock would after the school nerd tried explaining algebra to him, he began to pulled the car forward as Eugene moved behind the car to close the gate back up after them. Rick turned his attention back forward, maneuvering around the purposefully place cars with sharpened poles sticking out of the windows as a way to ensnare any approaching walkers, and apparently already had with two. Rick had said it was a tactic he'd learned from Morgan when he, Carl and Michonne had found the man going crazy back in King County. So far, it had been a very helpful deterrent in keeping walkers off the walls.
After driving a little while, Rick turned right onto a barren road, kicking up dust in their wake.
"Today's the day," he commented.
"Uh-Huh," Daryl grunted.
"We're gonna find food, maybe some people," Rick insisted. "The law of averages has gotta catch up."
"I don't know. We ain't seen nobody for weeks," Daryl shrugged. "Maybe we ain't gonna find nobody. Maybe that's a good thing."
Georgie leaned forward, resting her arms on the backs of both the men's seats and eyed what Rick was messing with. Reaching a hand out, she slapped Daryl's shoulder to alert him to the situation.
Daryl immediately frowned as Rick held a CD in his hand. "Don't. Don't," he pleaded, as the CD was pushed into the car's player. "Please don't."
"There's no stopping him now," Georgie quipped. "He's been on a kick lately with this music. Makes me want to vomit. This morning it was Boston."
"You like Boston," Rick countered.
"You like Boston, I like you. I'm making sacrifices for love."
Rick simply smirked, and when the music began to play he started snapping the fingers of his right hand. "Draws 'em away from home!" he shouted over the volume of the music.
"How? The windows are rolled up."
"Oh, right," Rick muttered, rolling the windows down, which sent a blustering breeze into the car that seemed to whip Georgie's hair in all directions in seconds.
Spitting the strands of her ginger locks out of her mouth, she was forced to pull it all back into a ponytail and was just thankful she'd remembered to bring a hair tie this time. The last run she'd gone on with Rick, a week earlier when he'd found the Chrysler, she hadn't been so fortunate and wound up with a terrible rat's nest for hair by the end of the day. There weren't enough curse words in the English dictionary for her to use that night as she struggled to brush all those snarls out.
The car crested onward a few more miles as they drove down a Daniels Street before Daryl piped up and slapped Rick's arm. "We missed the turn," the archer informed, gesturing to the map Eugene gave them.
"Alright," Rick muttered, pressing his foot to the brake pedal and putting the car in reverse.
Coming to a momentary stop in the middle of the intersection they'd just crossed, Rick pulled the car right and headed down the other road instead. Just up ahead, as clear as day, was a barn with the words 'SORGHUM' painted on the roof. Understandably hard to miss if you were singing along to horrible music like Rick was and only focused on the road ahead.
As they pulled up front of the barn, Rick climbed out first, immediately heading around to the left side of the building with his Colt in hand. Georgie moved around to the right side; both of them looking for any sign of walkers, while Daryl pulled his backpack out and began rifling through it on the ground.
"Hey, hold up," Daryl called, walking up to the barn door with a tool to jimmy the lock open. "It's best to be safe. You cover it?"
"Yeah," Rick nodded heading over to check on Georgie, who came back toward the front and nodded at him that they were clear on the right. As Daryl popped the lock, the door rolled up to reveal a truck inside. Rick checked both sides with his Colt raised. "Yeah, we're good. One more time?" he asked, gesturing to the back of the truck with his gun.
"It ain't locked," Georgie remarked.
As Daryl looked at her, he then brought his attention to the latch which he lifted up. As soon as the door popped open, the three of them stood back in awe. There before them was a horde of supplies.
"Well, how about that?" Rick smiled as Daryl climbed up inside and picked up a can of something before setting it back down. "The law of averages."
"Yep," Daryl mumbled, climbing down as Rick climbed up.
"Rick," Georgie spoke, pointing toward something in a crate in front of him.
Following her gaze, he smirked. "Got it," he said, lifting up a narrow box containing unopened spearmint-flavored toothpaste. Wiggling it around in his hand for a moment, he dropped it back down and looked around. "Let's get this thing going, grab our gear, and come back for the car later. Take another way back."
"See what we can see," Daryl remarked as switched places with Rick to pull the door back down.
"Think it'll start?" Georgie wondered, referring to the truck.
Rick sniffed. "Yeah, I do." Emitting a small chuckle, he looked back at her and smirked. "Sorghum."
As the three of them headed toward the front of the truck. Daryl opened up the passenger door and stepped back for Georgie to slide in first so she could sit in the middle while Rick opened up the driver's door, found keys right in the ignition like some sort of kismet and then hopped inside.
"I could just drive the car back, follow behind you two, y'know?" Georgie offered as she pulled herself to sit in the middle, between Rick and Daryl.
"Nah, we don't separate. Plus, getting this back to Alexandria is more important than the car right now," Rick remarked, starting the engine up and chuckling happily at their good fortune. "Law of averages."
Throwing the gears into reverse, Rick slowly backed the truck up out of the barn until they were on the road. Instead of swinging back the way they came, Rick took them in the opposite direction; which would be a slightly longer way back judging by the map they had, but there wasn't exactly a rush.
"We gotta find that soda," Daryl muttered after a couple minutes.
"Why the soda?" Georgie wondered, grabbing at the list Daryl was looking over in his hands. "Orange Crush. Oddly specific."
"S'pose any brand is fine. It's the flavor Denise wants."
"Why soda, though?"
"She said she wants to surprise Tara with it as some sort of going away present before she goes on that two-week supply run with Heath. Tara was mentioning it in her sleep or whatever."
Georgie smirked. "Oh, okay then." Folding the list up, she handed it back to Daryl and then snickered as a thought popped into her head.
Rick, who was focusing on the road ahead of them, turned to look at her for a moment. "What?"
"If I start talking about rubies and diamonds in my sleep would you put those on a list for Daryl to find to surprise me with?" she asked him with a playful smile.
With a roll of his eyes, Rick simply snickered right back at her just as Daryl gestured toward an abandoned gas station up ahead.
"There," the archer muttered. "Gas stations always have vending machines."
As soon as Rick pulled the truck over and parked, halfway under the dilapidated gas pump awning, Daryl hopped right out without missing a beat, a crowbar in hand, while leaving the door wide open for Georgie to climb out. Daryl also wasted no time in heading right up to the building, pulling at the door to try the door to see if it was unlocked before placing a hand to the glass to glance. Peering inside, he squinted while checking for any vending machines and lurkers alike. Rick, meanwhile, hung back; crouching slightly to get a view inside the building while staying closer to the truck.
"Daryl," Georgie called out. When he turned to look back at her, she gestured to the overturned machine off to the side of the building. "I think that might be what you're looking for."
Like a man on a mission, Daryl stalked right up to the machine and gently banged on the metal back to get Rick's attention. "Yo, give me a hand with this. Let's flip it over."
Georgie stepped out of the way as Rick walked over, joining Daryl on the same side. On a silent count of three, both men began to push, but the machine was too heavy. It had lifted slightly, but not enough to flip it at least onto its side. As they dropped it back down, they stood back and Rick gave a shake of his head and flexed the muscles in his shoulders.
"I don't think we got it," he commented as Daryl walked around to the other side.
Looking past Georgie to the truck, Daryl brought his gaze up to Rick. "I got an idea."
As he headed over to the truck, he whistled for Rick to toss him the keys. When Rick sent them flying through the air, Daryl reached out to catch them but they somehow bounced off his fingertips and dropped them. After hunching down and picking them up, he sprinted over to the driver's side, threw open the door and climbed in. Georgie stepped closer toward the vending machine as she and Rick watched the archer start the truck up, drive it forward to the road and then back up toward the vending machine. He left a good distance between both and then hopped back out, while leaving the truck idle in park.
"There's some chains over there," Daryl remarked. "We wrap them around the machine and the other end on the trailer hitch, yank it up that way."
Rick nodded. "Alright."
Georgie was already one step ahead, hurrying over to the chains in question and handing them off to Daryl. With a grunt of thanks, he took them and then he and Rick went to town with rigging up a system to flip the damned machine over. Georgie just stood there, watching, finding amusement in the two men working up a sweat while she also kept an eye out in both directions of the road in case of walkers.
Once the chains were in place, Rick climbed into the truck and used the side view mirror to watch Daryl while putting his foot on the gas. Daryl kept his hand up for Rick to keep going until the machine lurched upward enough and landed on its side. Daryl whistled for Rick to stop as Georgie came around to peer through the dirty glass front with her hands on her hips. Already working at pulling the chains aside, Daryl was preparing for opening the machine up while Rick turned off the truck and hopped out to join his best friend and his girlfriend.
Georgie smirked. "All this for some soda and candy."
"Is it really even worth the trouble?" Rick wondered.
"It wasn't any trouble," Daryl insisted.
Without any warning at all, a solid mass slammed into Rick, momentarily shoving down over the machine. In a flurry of motion all three grabbed for their guns as a man pushed past them and immediately threw his hands up as he continued to step back from them. His shoulder length brown hair hung straight underneath a beanie, there was a discolored white bandana covering the lower half of his face and neck so that only his eyes were visible. In fact, every inch of his body seemed to be covered except for his eyes. The leather trench coat he was wearing seemed a bit much in such sticky, Virginian heat.
"Hi," the man greeted awkwardly.
"Back up! Now!" Daryl growled, aiming his gun at the man's forehead.
"Keep 'em up," Rick bellowed when the man's hands began to lower.
Georgie sauntered around to the other side of the vending machine to get a different angle on the man while never taking her eyes off him.
"Whoa, easy, guys," he muttered. "I was just running from the dead."
Georgie's eyes shifted to the space between the buildings from which the man had come from as Rick back up toward it.
"How many?" Daryl demanded.
"Ten, maybe more," the man answered. "I'm not risking it. Once it gets to double digits, I start running."
"Where?" Georgie questioned.
"About half a mile back," came the reply, but the man's tone didn't feel particularly convincing to her. "They're headed this way. You probably have about eleven minutes."
"Oddly specific number," she remarked.
"Okay," Rick spoke after a few silent moments, before lowering his gun and holstering it. "Thanks for letting us know."
Georgie cast her eyes over to him. If he felt confident that he didn't need to aim his weapon at the man anymore, then that was good enough for Georgie, as she too shoved her gun back into its holster after setting the safety.
"Yeah," the man shrugged. "There's more of them than us, right? Gotta stick together." When he seemed to get no reaction from either of the three, he tilted his posture and eyed Daryl. "Right?" When the archer responded by lowering his gun last, the man lowered his hands. "You have a camp?"
"Nah," Daryl was quick to answer.
"Do you?" Rick questioned.
"No. Sorry for running into you. I'm gonna go now." As the man turned around and began to walk away, he called out, "If this is the next world, I hope it's good to you guys."
"I'm Rick. This is Daryl, Georgie," Rick introduced. "What's your name?"
The man stopped, turned and pulled his bandana down off his face. "Paul Rovia," he replied, throwing his arms out at his sides. "But my friends used to call me Jesus. Your pick."
"You said you didn't have a camp. You on your own?"
"Yeah. But, still, best not to try anything."
"Best not to make threats you can't keep, either," Daryl parried.
"Exactly," Jesus smirked as he turned to leave again.
"How many walkers—" Rick began to ask, but Daryl cut him off.
"No, not this guy."
Rick ignored Daryl's comment and asked anyway, "How many walkers have you killed?"
"Sorry, gotta run!" Jesus called back to them. "You should, too. Think you've got about seven minutes."
"What the hell was that?" Daryl wondered.
"He was clean. His beard, it was trimmed. There's more going on there."
"He didn't have a gun, either."
Georgie shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "If there are walkers coming, why would he head back in the same direction he just came from?" she questioned, gesturing toward the where Jesus had just gone. "If he was running away, he should be heading for the road, in either direction."
Rick tilted his head slightly from side to side, weighing some options. "We could track him, watch him for a while; get to know more. See if he's really alone." Then he added, "Maybe bring him back."
"Nah," Daryl decline. "Guy calls himself Jesus."
Georgie snickered at that. "Well, he did kinda look the part with the hair and beard."
As gunshot sounds echoed from behind the building in a succession of popping noises, the three of them grabbed for their guns again and headed toward the noise without missing a beat. Running alongside the front of the other building next door, they rounded the corner and made their way toward the back only to discover a barrel shooting sparks out and making those popping noises they'd been hearing.
"Firecrackers," Georgie stated the obvious.
"Shit," Rick bit out.
"Dammit, I knew there was something off about that guy."
A look of realization dawned on Daryl's face as he gestured to Rick's belt. "He swiped your keys, didn't he?"
"Oh, shit!"
As the three of them took back off toward the front, they were just in time to see the driver's side door to the truck shut and a hand stick out to wave.
"Sorry!" Jesus called out to them as he drove away with the truck; dragging the vending machine along with it.
Running out onto the street after it but stopping in their track as soon as they stood in the center of the road, all three of their shoulders seemed to slump in defeat.
"Shit," Rick muttered.
With a shake of her head, Georgie began to walk forward. "Well, let's not just stand here having a pity party," she commented. Throwing a look over her shoulder at both men, she raised a hand. "All those in favor of crucifying Jesus?"
After running about a mile or two up the road, Rick, Georgie and Daryl came upon some fresh tire tracks, as well as the vending machine which had been abandoned in the middle of the road. It was the perfect moment to stop and catch their breaths, and while it was definitely quite hot out, only Rick seemed to be the one who was drenched the most from sweat. His hair looked as if he'd just stepped out of the shower and, for whatever reason, Georgie was able to take the time to both admire how incredibly sexy he still looked in her eyes while also finding amusement in his appearance as well.
"What?" he asked, leaning forward slightly with his hands on his knees.
"Nothing," she assured while Daryl grabbed his crowbar out of his backpack and broke the glass on the vending machine. She and Rick both turned and watched as the archer reached inside, grabbing the snacks out and shoving them into his backpack. "Anything good in there at least?" she wondered.
"Orange fucking Crush," Daryl replied, somewhat triumphantly.
"The good doctor's special request," Georgie retorted.
"Hey, whatever she wants," Rick shrugged.
Daryl lifted one of the cans, which happened to be punctured along the side, and let the warm, carbonated liquid drain into his mouth before passing it to Georgie next. She took it graciously, happy for anything to soothe her dry mouth and throat before passing to Rick last.
"She did save Carl's life, after all," Georgie reminded.
"We didn't know her, and she turned out to be alright," Rick nodded as he watched Daryl throw his backpack on again. "If there's still people out here, and they're still people, we should bring 'em in."
The archer took the soda can back from Rick when it was offered to him and he took another swig, and then gestured up the road. "What, like this guy?"
"No, not this guy," Georgie shook her head. Finishing the contents off, she tossed the can over her shoulder once it was empty while something inside he vending machine caught her eye. Reaching an arm out, she slapped Rick's arm gently and then gestured at what she held her attention as was stuck between the coils.
Sauntering over toward the vending machine and peering inside, Rick leaned down and grabbed the item in question; quickly shoving into his back pocket.
"We still got a trail," Daryl informed.
"Let's go," Rick muttered, and like that, without hesitation, all three of them took off in a sprint.
Following the tire marks on the road, the threesome continued to run for possibly another mile; only taking brief stops here and there to catch their breath before taking off again. Just like the day the herd broke apart and they had to make a run for it from the RV back to Alexandria, Georgia and Rick's legs and chests were screaming from the burning in their joints and in their lungs. Daryl didn't seem to be faring all that well either. Each of them looked like they'd just stepped out of a sauna, although Rick still looked as if he'd jumped out of a hot shower with how his curls just clung damply to his face from sweat.
As they turned onto another road, it gradually became somewhat of an incline. Daryl signaled for them to slow and when they did they crouched down and peered over the curve in the road toward the decline where Jesus was trying to fix the front, driver's side wheel of the truck which seemed to have fallen off.
Withdrawing their guns and slinking off into the woods on the left side of the road, Daryl led Rick and Georgie amidst the trees. When they got nearer to the road, they split off. Daryl went left and Rick tapped Georgie's wrist to gesture for her to follow him right.
While Jesus was distracted with the wheel at the front, the couple slipped out of the woods and moved to the other side of the truck; thankful the bottoms of their boots seemed to make no sounds. Then again, Jesus clanking the tire iron around on the pavement masked any other noises at the moment. As Jesus finished up and came around to the back of the truck, Daryl came out of the woods and crouched down toward the front of the truck to lie in wait. As soon as the back door to the truck was pulled down, Rick took that moment as his cue.
Darting out, he jumped on Jesus' back and pinned his arms down. "Hold still and maybe we won't hurt you."
"Sure thing," Jesus muttered, right before elbowing Rick in the abdomen, leaned back up and hit him in the face, and then spun out of Rick's grasp to kick him in the stomach, knocking him down as Georgie stepped out with her gun raised.
"Make one more move, I dare you," she warned.
Just as he threw his hands up in surrender, though, Daryl chose that moment to come at Jesus; taking a swing to clothesline the other man. However, Jesus seemed more agile as he easily grabbed Daryl and slammed him against the side of the truck. Rick was also back on his feet, lickety-split, and he threw himself at Jesus like a bull in a china shop; barreling into him with all his strength and knocking him down to the ground this time.
Georgie rolled her eyes. She'd had Jesus, but men being men had to take it to a whole other level by literally and figuratively throwing their weight around.
All three of them pointed their guns down at Jesus now as he lay back, staring up at them in defeat.
"This is done," Rick stated, through gritted teeth, as a considerably decayed walker came stumbling out of the woods.
Emitting a sigh as he sat up a bit, Jesus rolled his eyes slightly. "Do you even have any ammo?"
In response, Rick, Georgie and Daryl lifted their respective guns and each fired a single shot into the walker's head. Georgie, having always been better with her hunting knife than long range with a gun, missed slightly; her bullet blasting off half of the walker's jaw. The point was made to Jesus, though, that they had ammo and they weren't to be trifled with any further.
"Okay," Jesus muttered. "You gonna shoot me over a truck?"
"There's a lot of food on that truck," Rick replied. "The keys. Now."
"You know I'm not a bad guy."
"Yeah? What do you know about us? Give me the keys."
Georgie glanced briefly over at Rick and then back at Jesus, keeping her aim on the latter. "It'll be in your best interest to listen to the man," she advised.
Jesus looked from Rick, to Georgie, and back, but made no move to get the keys or even speak.
Rick cocked his gun and re-aimed it. "This is the last time I'm asking."
With a frown, Jesus slowly reached into his pocket with one hand while holding the other up to signify he wasn't gonna try anything. With a flick of his wrist he tossed the keys into the air and Rick caught them easily enough. Meanwhile, Daryl began to up toward the truck, and threw the back door open to pull out some rope he'd remembered seeing inside earlier when they first found the truck in that barn. Rick shoved the keys into his pocket and holstered his Colt while Georgie maintained her aim on Jesus. When Daryl handed off the rope, Rick took it and used the knife he had on him to cut the rope into three, equal pieces. The first piece he bound Jesus' hands together with, the second he bound him at the knees, and lastly Rick began to bind Jesus' legs together at the ankle.
"Dammit," Daryl muttered, pulling one of the Orange Crush soda cans out of his backpack. In the scuffle with Jesus, the can burst, spilling the contents inside the bag and were now seeping out the bottom.
"You gonna leave me here like this?" Jesus questioned Rick. "You're really gonna do that?"
"Eh, the knots aren't that tight. You should be able to get free after we're long gone."
"If you're lucky," Georgie added to the conversation. No longer feeling like he needed to be guarded so much anymore, she threw on the safety to her gun and returned it to its holster.
Jesus stared up at her; maybe thinking that because she was a woman, she might be an easier target for going soft if he pouted and flashed those big, doe eyes at her. Unfortunately for him there were only two blue-eyed boys who turned her into a softie anymore and their last name was Grimes.
"Maybe we should talk now," Jesus suggested in a last ditch effort.
Rick cast a glance over his shoulder at Georgie as he began to make his way toward the front of the truck. "What do you think, Georgie?" he questioned; a slightly deviant sparkle in his eyes as he gestured to Jesus. "Should we have a friendly chat with our Lord and Savior over here?"
Georgie placed her hands on her hips and gave Jesus a once over and then shrugged. "Nah."
Rick through his hands in the air. "Sorry. The lady has spoken."
As Georgie joined Rick at his side, Daryl removed a third can of Orange Crush from his backpack, shook it up and then tossed it down at Jesus' legs.
"Here," he muttered. "In case ya get thirsty."
Throwing open the driver's side door, Rick helped Georgie up to take a seat in the middle again before climbing in after her. And, oh, how wonderful it felt to sit down after all that running. Once Daryl was inside as well, Rick let out a sigh. Raising his hand up, he began spinning the keys around his index finger and a roguish smirk took up residence on his face as he looked between Georgie and Daryl. Both smirked right back at him.
As the three of them just sat there for a moment or two longer, Daryl began digging around his backpack and removed another can of orange soda and set it down into the drink holder in front of Georgie while Rick shoved the key into the ignition and started the truck up. As the engine roared to life, and after he shifted the gears into drive, Rick brought his hand back and patted Georgie's upper thigh, which garnered a warm smile from her.
Shoving his hand out his window and flipping the bird, Daryl looked over his shoulder, despite not being able to see anything, and shouted, "So long, ya prick!"
With that, the truck began to cruise down the road and Daryl propped his legs up on the dashboard. As both men looked at each other in subtle amusement, Georgie's hair fell over her shoulders.
"Fuck," she grumbled, reaching her hand around and feeling for something.
Rick threw her a brief look. "What?"
"My damn hair tie snapped. Dammit." When she successfully found where the broken, elastic tie was, Georgie frowned. Leaning forward and closer to Daryl, she tossed it out the window. "Well, there goes another one." With a heavy sigh, she leaned back. "The very least of our problems, I know, but you have no idea how hard it is going through hair ties when you have such thick hair. I'm seriously hoping there might be some more in the back of this truck."
"Should I break out the violin," Daryl teased.
"Shut up," she muttered with a small smile. "Ya'll have shorter hair. Mine's long and it just gets in the way and there's so much of it and it makes me hot—"
"You're already hot," Rick quipped, dragging his hand back up to her thigh and giving it a squeeze.
As Georgie rolled her eyes, Daryl grunted and shifted around uncomfortably. "Nah, none of that shit while I'm right here."
A chuckle escaped Rick's lips and he looked between his best friend and girlfriend before turning his attention back to the road with a smile.
Rick lucked out in that the truck had a CD player inside it and there were CDs of his liking. Shoving one into the player, labeled 'Travel Mix', songs began to play that all three of them actually seemed okay with. Daryl began removing a few of the snacks from his backpack, including a KitKat bar he broke apart; handing pieces over to both Rick and Georgie.
"Aw yeah," Georgie cooed. "Chocolate."
"Still worked out," Rick remarked, finishing off his piece in one bite. "Today still is the day."
Daryl leaned forward, turning up the volume to the radio and broke off another piece for Rick, who took it just before Georgie leaned forward and pointed straight ahead of them.
"Hey, look at that," she observed.
Daryl leaned forward as well, taking hold of the grab bar with his right hand and licking the fingers of his left hand clean. "Yeah, a barn."
As Rick continued forward, he drove the truck into the field near the bar in question, but as the truck lurched around from grooves in the earth, a slight thudding noise seemed to catch his attention. "You hear that?" he asked, wondering if maybe he wasn't hearing things.
Daryl turned the volume all the way down so all three of them could listen; and, sure as shit, there was a metallic thudding noise coming from up above.
"That sonofabitch is on the roof!" the archer exclaimed.
"Are you shitting me right now?" Georgie turned his face up toward the ceiling of the truck's cab and frowned.
Rick practically scowled. "Hold on," he warned.
As Georgie and Daryl braced themselves, placing their hands on the dashboard, Rick slammed on the brakes and the truck skidded to an abrupt stop. Without warning, a body was thrown from the roof and tumbled down onto the grass in front of the truck. It was a blur, but the body was no doubt that of Jesus. Even the "ugh" noise he made as he landed sounded like him.
The three of them took pause, lifting in their seats to see if they could see him, just as Jesus popped up, facing the front of the truck. As he looked at them inside staring at him, there was a strange lull that fell over all of them. But then Jesus was off. He turned and took off running away from the truck; a man on a mission to just get away.
Rick, however, wasn't having it.
Taking his foot off the brake and moving it to the gas pedal, he began to drive off after Jesus to chase him.
"Rick," Georgie lamely chastised, just as Daryl threw his door open while the truck was still moving.
"Mother—" Daryl grunted, cutting his own self off as he moved to jump from the vehicle.
"Daryl," Rick barked as Georgie made an attempt to grab at the archer's vest to pull him back in.
Neither was able to keep their friend inside the truck, though. Daryl hit the ground running and slammed the door shut, allowing Georgie to take the passenger seat.
"Daryl!" Rick shouted; maneuvering the truck around the field as Daryl began to chase Jesus on foot.
"Why are we even bothering with this jackass?" Georgie inquired; flashing a glance at Rick while gripping tight onto the grab bar with her right hand and bracing her left hand on the dashboard to keep from being thrown around inside the cab of the truck. "Why don't we just leave him and head home?"
"Because we're men, and men are idiots?" Rick replied.
"Well, I can't argue that."
As Rick accelerated a little more and tried cutting Jesus off, Jesus simply doubled back and darted behind the truck as Daryl continued to head after him. Rick braked and then started backing all the way up near the edge of the field where there was a small lake behind some trees.
"Stay here," Rick said to Georgie.
"Like hell."
"Just do it."
Georgie gave him a look as if he was on acid but all she could do was expel a huff and sit back while Rick jumped out of the truck. She would oblige him this once, but he would owe her for making her sit this one out while Rick and Daryl got to play 'Dukes of Hazzard' with the man named Jesus.
There was a pickup truck nearby with several walkers tied to it with rope, but with the movement in the field by the three men, the walkers got riled up. As they pulled forward, trying to reach for the living, the ropes holding them in place all began to snap, probably from dry rot. Who knows how long those walkers had been there to begin with.
Even with the windows of the truck rolled up, Georgie could hear Daryl shouting about 'having him' as he continued chasing after Jesus, which allowed Rick to head for the walkers and take them out. Georgie grumbled, though, as that was something she could be helping him with.
While her attention was focused mainly on Rick, and the inherent concern of him possibly getting bit, she didn't notice that Jesus had made his way over to the truck and threw open the driver's side door. Either he forgot she was inside, or just didn't care. Either way, they were both surprised to see each other.
"Hello," he greeted, nearly out of breath, as she jumped backward toward the passenger's side door and fumbled for her gun while he fumbled around to look for the keys.
As Georgie pulled the gun from her holster, Daryl ran up and began grabbing on Jesus.
"C'mere!" Daryl growled out.
"Get off me, asshole!" Georgie shouted when Jesus landed back upon her.
As the scuffle inside the cab continued, Jesus was able to turn slightly and grab Georgie's gun out of her hand as Daryl was trying to pull him out of the truck. As he sat up just a bit, while Georgie began to kick him in the back, he still managed to raise the gun and aim it at Daryl's head.
The gesture caused both Georgie and Daryl to stop what they were doing; the fear that Jesus might shoot Daryl setting their senses alight. However, surprisingly, that wasn't the case.
"Duck," Jesus muttered.
Without hesitation, Daryl dropped down and Jesus fired a shot into the head of a walker that had been approaching from behind. Slipping an arm around Jesus' neck, Georgie held him in place as Daryl popped back up, turned around to look down at the dead walker and then back at Jesus.
"Thanks," the archer commented; grabbing for Georgie's gun, and punching Jesus in the face. He then bellowed, "That ain't your gun!"
As the overly-dressed, bearded man fell back upon Georgie's chest, Daryl climbed up into the cab to yank him forward while handing Georgie's gun back over to her. In the attempt at removing Jesus from the truck, the gear got hit; taking the truck from park and sending it rolling in reverse.
Daryl still had a grip on Jesus and yanked them backward out of the moving vehicle. Both men tumbled out; slamming the driver's side door in the process, and leaving Georgie still behind as the truck rolled down the embankment and into the water. She made the move to jump out, too, but in the scuffle, her hair had somehow got caught on the seatbelt. Shifting around, she reached for her hunting knife as the truck slipped quickly into the water.
"Georgie!" she heard Rick shouting for her.
Turning her attention out the front of the windshield, she couldn't see him because of the angle the truck was at now. She throwing the truck back into park, but it was useless now. Her focus had to be cutting herself free and getting out of the truck altogether.
"No! Georgie!" Rick continued as he ran toward the embankment.
Once she'd sliced off the offending locks of hair and turned around to push at the passenger side door but pressure from the water was forcing it to stay closed.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," mumbled over and over.
Then, she had an idea.
Sitting back normally in the passenger seat, she returned her gun to its sheath and instead lifted her gun. Aiming at the windshield, she fired two shots which caused the glass to nearly shatter. A web pattern formed and she sank down into the seat and lifted her legs to kick out the glass. As the truck sank more quickly into the lake, water began to rush up at the windshield. The holes and cracks caused from the bullets, along with her kicking at the glass, made it easier for the force of the water press against the windshield and cause it to shatter inward. Water began rushing in, catching Georgie off guard as she turned her face to avoid being cut.
As the truck slipped completely under the water, Georgie held her breath and opened her eyes. They immediately burned and it was difficult to see, but she could make out the light from the sun and pushed off from the passenger seat to propel herself forward out the collapsed windshield.
For Rick, fear had just washed all over him and he began to panic. The truck and its supplies meant nothing anymore. He just had to save Georgie before she drowned inside the vehicle.
When he heard the gunshots and the sound of glass breaking, Rick knew Georgie wasn't going down without a fight. He didn't hesitate for one minute as he ran down the embankment, sliding somewhat and then dove into the water.
As the truck slipped under the water, Rick's eyes went wide and swam toward it, not bothering to think of how the suction from the truck sinking under the water's surface might pull him down with it. Just as he got nearer to it, he saw bubbles rising to the surface and, a few moments later, Georgie's head popped up; her ginger locks matted down around her face as she let out a deep gasp for air.
"Georgie!" Rick called to her.
As she focused her gaze on him, she swam over toward his direction. "Rick," she coughed, and somehow managed to smile despite it all.
Meeting her halfway, Rick threw his arms around her, while kicking with his legs to keep them afloat. Crashing his lips down upon hers in a frenzied kiss was how he greeted her to show how relieved he was that she was okay.
"Shit," he mumbled. "You scared me there for a minute or two."
"I was scared for a minute or two as well," she admitted.
"Y'alright?" Daryl called out, a hand over his eyes and not seeming too concerned; at least not anymore now that he could see that Georgie had made it out of the truck alive.
"She's okay!" Rick shouted back.
The couple clung to each other as they swam back to the water's edge, with Rick pushing her forward up the embankment once they reached it, and with Daryl offering his hands to help them both up.
"Where's Jesus?"
"Unconscious. Truck door knocked him in the head when it began to roll," Daryl replied. As he helped bring Georgie up to her feet, he eyed her with concern. "Y'alright?" He'd heard it from Rick's lips, but the archer wanted to hear it from hers.
Georgie nodded, feeling so weighed down because of her soaked clothes; although, it actually felt refreshing, given how hot it was. "Yeah, I'm alright."
Rick brought a hand to the back of her head once he was standing, and pulled her in toward him to embrace her and kiss her again. "Next time, don't stay in the truck when I tell you to."
Georgie laughed. "Next time you better believe I won't listen to you."
Pushing her hair off her face once they parted from each other, she looked down over at Jesus body. If she didn't know any better, she would've just assumed he was dead.
As the three of them turned back toward the lake and the truck full of supplies they no longer had, a feeling of defeat suddenly struck them.
"Law of averages: that's some bullshit, man," Daryl muttered, looking at Rick. "Let's go check them cars, get the hell out of here."
Georgie looked over her shoulder toward the direction of the pickup truck that had been maintaining all those walkers. Just beyond it were a few abandoned cars as well.
"What about dickhead here?" Georgie questioned, nodding toward Jesus as she folded her arms under her chest.
Daryl grunted. "What about him?"
"He shot that walker," she replied. "Saved your life."
"Maybe," he shrugged.
"Did he ever pull a weapon on you?" Rick asked.
Daryl looked between the couple, and then over to Jesus. Fidgeting his fingers, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine," he muttered, as if it was a chore, and stalked over to the unconscious man. "Let's put him up a tree."
Later that evening, as the sun began its slow descent down from the sky toward the horizon, Rick was once again behind the wheel, but it was not in the Chrysler and it was not in the truck that now sat at the bottom of a lake. Having found a Jeep Grand Cherokee with enough fuel in it to get them back to the Alexandria.
Beside him, and still just as soaked to the bone as him, Georgie sat, playing with the small section of her hair she had been forced to cut to free herself from the seatbelt. In the backseat, sitting directly behind Georgie, was Daryl. Then there was a still unconscious Jesus, leaning against Daryl, who they had made the decision to bring back with them.
Peering into the backseat by way of the rearview mirror, Rick smirked and pitched the car quickly to the right, causing Jesus to fall more into Daryl, who reacted by shoving Jesus away. Georgie turned to looked over at Rick; his smirk making her smirk as well as she could more or less figure out he was just being a little shit to mess with Daryl.
"He took a pretty hard hit," Rick spoke, holding Daryl's gaze in the mirror. "Denise needs to look him over."
"Yeah."
"You wouldn't have gone through with it. You wouldn't have left him."
"I woulda," Daryl insisted. "Right up a tree. I woulda."
"Nah," Rick countered. "I know. Almost as soon as we got to Alexandria, you got it. You saw—you and Michonne, Glenn, you all tried to tell me. So shut up." Rick pitched the car to the right again, sending Jesus once more into Daryl. As the archer shoved Jesus away toward the left side of the backseat, Rick eyed Daryl with a more serious gaze. "'Cause I'm finally listening."
Reaching her hand out to him, Georgie placed it down upon his thigh, the same as he did to her earlier in the Sorghum truck. "Hey," she whispered, bringing his attention away from the backseat and over to her instead. "It's still a good day."
"Yeah?" he questioned, focusing mostly on the road . "How? We lost all those supplies."
Georgie shrugged. "I didn't drown, we didn't get eaten by any walkers. We found a car to bring us home," she rattled off. "We can always find more supplies." She lifted her hand from his thigh and brought it to his right hand instead, entwining her fingers with his. "Things will get better," she added, turning her gaze toward the road as well. "Law of averages isn't completely bullshit."
By the time they made their way home to Alexandria, darkness had fallen. Inside the car, all were silent as Rick drove slowly up to the front gate, maneuvering around the obstacle course that was the other cars and sharpened poles. One walker impaled upon such a pole turned when it saw the lights coming from the car and heard it rolling up on the pavement. Its right arm reached out and its mouth chomped at air, but the conscious trio in the car paid it no mind.
"You know, I was thinking back before we went out to the quarry; the morning after Reg and Jake," Daryl spoke quietly from the backseat while Jesus still remained asleep beside him. "You said we shouldn't be looking for people no more. You were right."
Rick looked up into the rearview mirror and locked eyes with Daryl. Putting his foot onto the brake, he waited for someone to open the gate for them while he shook his head. "Nope," he muttered. "I was wrong. You were right."
When still no one opened the gate, Georgie sat up and gestured toward the steering column. "Flash 'em."
Grabbing the proper headlight switch, Rick flicked it so the headlights flashed on and off a couple of times. Mere moments later, the gate creaked as it rolled open, allowing Rick to drive them on through. Once the gate was closed behind them, they continued straight and then turned right, heading for the infirmary which Rick parked in front of. Once the engine was killed, Rick looked at Georgie and reached a hand out to her forehead, pushing her hair back.
"You wanna head home? Daryl and I got him," Rick gestured toward the backseat with a nod of his head.
"Yeah, okay," Georgie nodded.
Dragging his hand down from her forehead, he let his thumb graze the side of her face. Daryl seemed to be feeling a little impatient, or he wanted to give the couple a few seconds alone, despite Jesus in the backseat. As the archer hopped out and made his leisurely trek around the back of the car to the other side, Rick leaned forward. He only gave Georgie a quick peck to the corner of her lips, but it was plenty for the moment.
"Don't take all night."
"We won't," he assured her. "We'll have Denise look him over and then toss him in that basement for the night. We'll talk with him in the morning about everything; where he's from and where he was gonna take all those supplies. He had to be from somewhere."
With a nod, Georgie accepted this and climbed out of the car. When Rick followed suit, he watched as she began to walk off down the road, before calling out to her in barely above a whisper. When she turned and began to double back, he pulled something out of his back pocket and placed it into the palm of her hand.
"Give that to Michonne if she's up, will ya?"
When Georgie glanced at what she held, she smirked. "Okay."
As she continued to walk away again, Daryl opened up the driver's side, back passenger door and Jesus nearly fell out in the process, but the archer was quick to catch him. Hooking his hands under the sleeping man's arm, Daryl began to pull him out and Rick moved in to grab him at the legs. Once he kicked his door and the back door shut with heel of his boot, Rick resituated his grip and held onto Jesus more around his ankles. Georgie was a little more than halfway home when the two friends carried their captive up to the infirmary's porch.
Once she was through the front door, Georgie let out a sigh of relief just at the mere awareness of being home. It was such a lovely feeling and it made any crazy thing that had happened that day feel like a distant memory. She plodded into the kitchen, over to the fridge and found a bottle of water, which she uncapped and took a few swigs from. Taking it with her, she began to head up toward the stairwell as she passed Michonne who was coming out of her downstairs bedroom.
"Hey—whoa. You look terrible," Michonne remarked, eyeing Georgie up and down. "Did your day not go well?"
"It did and it didn't," Georgie shrugged.
"Dare I ask?"
"We lost the supplies. Some asshole calling himself Jesus stole them, and then we stole them back. Long story short: the entire truck full of supplies is now at the bottom of a lake, which was almost my grave, as you can see," she remarked, gesturing to her still considerably damp clothing. The white shirt she'd been wearing all day was now a slight tan hue from the muddy lake water.
"You almost drowned?"
"I was still in the truck when it went into the lake, no thanks to Jesus."
Michonne made a face. "This really a real guy or are you taking the Lord's name in vain?" she asked with a smile on her face.
"Oh, no, it's a real guy. He got knocked out. He's been unconscious for a couple of hours. We brought him back," Georgie replied. "The guys took him to the infirmary for Denise to look him over, then they're locking him up for the night. We'll deal with him tomorrow morning."
"Shit, and I thought I had a day?"
"How was your day? How were the kids?"
"Kids were great. Carl went out with Enid. Then I followed Spencer into the woods, and we ran into his mother."
"No, shit. Deanna?"
"Yeah," Michonne nodded sadly. "She was a walker."
"Yeah, I kinda figured something like that must've happened when we couldn't find her body after…you know…all that." Georgie might've gotten past the night the walkers freely roamed Alexandria's streets and the death of her son, but it didn't mean she cared to think much on it anymore. She had made the decision to keep looking forward, not backward. "Did you—?"
"No, Spencer did. We buried her outside the walls, though. Marked where she is on a tree."
"Maybe you'll take me out there one of these days, show me the grave so I can pay my respects."
Michonne nodded. "Sure thing."
As Georgie moved to head up the stairwell, she stopped in her tracks and tapped Michonne on the arm. "Oh, wait," she muttered. "Here." Holding out a small package of mints, Georgie placed them into the palm of Michonne's hand and chuckled. "Since we couldn't get the toothpaste, I think this was Rick's idea of the next best thing."
Michonne snickered. "Spearmint lifesavers? At least he got the flavor right. I guess we can let him stay." Twisting the package around in her fingers, she frowned a bit. "It's kinda wet."
"Yeah…Rick jumped into the water after me. They must've still been in his pocket, so they got just as waterlogged as us," the ginger remarked. "Just leave 'em sitting out. They should be fine."
"Better than nothing, right?"
"Right."
"Here," Michonne mumbled, handing off the baby monitor she'd been holding in her other hand. "I was gonna keep an eye on Judith but, since you're back, you can and I'll get some sleep. It's my turn to go on a run tomorrow anyway, so I should be rested just in case I have a crazier day than you."
Georgie rolled her eyes. "I doubt it."
As both women smiled at each other, they silently parted ways; Michonne ducking back into her bedroom while Georgie headed upstairs to take a nice, hot shower to sooth her aching muscles.
Before the hour was up, Rick came sauntering into the house as if he was carrying weights on his shoulders. He was so sore from the day; all that literal running around, the heat, the stress over losing the supplies twice and almost losing Georgie. He was physically and mentally exhausted and he just wanted to lie down.
The downstairs was quiet, lights were off.
As he plodded past Michonne's bedroom door, it creaked open a hair and she peered out with a smirk while waving the mints out at him. "Thank you," she commented.
Rick stopped and looked back at her with a tired smile. "You're welcome. Sorry it's not toothpaste."
"I'll survive," she shrugged. "Georgie already gave me the cliff notes version of your day."
"How was yours?"
"Nowhere near as crazy, apparently."
"Yeah," Rick nodded. Reaching his hand in her door, he patted it briefly down upon her wrist and then gave her a nod of his head. "I'll see ya in the morning."
"'Night."
Once Michonne had closed her bedroom door, Rick turned and made his way upstairs. Slowly but surely he reached his bedroom door, which was closed. Turning the knob and pushing the door open, Rick slipped inside and found Georgie lying in bed with only a bedsheet covering her naked body.
Her hair was damp again, so he could tell she must've taken a shower. But that wasn't was held his attention. Obviously, it was because she was naked.
He was a man, after all.
He could be on his deathbed with some important, parting words of wisdom to tell his children and he would still probably get distracted if the image of Georgie without any clothes on popped into his mind.
"Feeling better?" he asked, shutting the door and hunching forward to remove his boots.
"Almost."
"Almost?"
"Yeah." Rolling onto her side, she propped her elbow up and rested the side of her face into her palm. "I could be better."
Undoing his utility belt, Rick walked around to his side of the bed and draped the belt along his nightstand before getting to his actual belt. "Anything I can do? You need some Tylenol or something?"
Rolling back onto the mattress again, Georgie turned her head and watched him lift the bottom of his shirt from out of his pants and then sat up all the way. Climbing up onto her knees, she managed to keep her front covered with the bed sheet with her left hand while her right reached out so she could stick a finger through one of his belt loops and pull him closer. When he knees hit the edge of the bed, Rick smirked down at her; leaning his face down to bring his lips to hers.
Rick placed his hands right into her thick, damp locks as he deepened their kiss. When they slowly parted from each other, the look of love in their eyes was starting to give way to a bit more lust. Grinning down at her, Rick began to fumble with the buttons of his denim shirt and pulled it off as quickly as he could manage.
Once shirtless, he undid his pants and shoved them down off his narrow hips moments before climbing up onto the bed on his knees. Taking Georgie into his arms, he encircled them around her waist while she pulled him down upon the bed with a quiet fit of laughter.
"Law of averages," Rick mumbled against her lips as he laid down between her legs. Grinding against her, getting the two of them equally worked up, he added, "For every little thing that went wrong today, I'm gonna see goes right, right here with you."
Wrapping her legs around his waist, she forced his groin against hers and smiled impishly back up at him. "I'm literally holding you to it," she remarked, giggling at her own lame joke.
Situating himself at her entrance, Rick just tutted and shook his head. Then, without warning, he licked at her lips and thrust inside of her.
Hours later, just after daybreak, Rick and Georgie were fast asleep in bed; both on their sides, facing each other, with their legs entwined and still as naked as the day they came crying. For the most part, they were light sleepers, but after the overexertion from the day before, they're bodies barely stirred for anything.
When the bedroom door creaked open, they didn't stir.
When footsteps crossed the floor and stopped at the foot of the bed, they didn't stir.
"Rick," came a voice. "Georgie."
Neither stirred, still; although, the insistent sound was starting to break into their mind and alert them it was time to leave dreamland.
As conscious slowly began to seep in, the voice spoke up again, this time more persistently.
"Hey, wake up."
As an alarm went off in their heads, Rick and Georgie sat up and practically jumped out of their skin as they clambered out of bed. Rick grabbed for his Colt on the bedside table as Georgie fumbled for the bed sheet, but then gave up trying; instead reaching for her gun, still in the holster of her own utility belt which lay on the floor. Jumping up to their feet and aiming, Rick and Georgie stood there, bare ass naked in front of none other than Jesus, who held his hands up so they wouldn't shoot him.
"What the hell?" Georgie barked while Rick sneered like a rabid dog ready to pounce.
"Sorry," Jesus apologized toward her, without looking at her in her state of literal undress; instead focusing solely on Rick's face. Though, there was no denying he was somewhat amused by the situation. "We should talk."