Author's Note: I rather enjoyed this chapter. Hope you do, too. As for the delay getting it out: holidays and I've been sick. As always, please R&R!
xoxo —Holly
"Patience is not simply the ability to wait — it's how we behave while we're waiting." — Joyce Meyer
Sleep during the course of the next three nights was somewhat of a joke. For Rick and Georgie, while they were plenty tired enough and comfortable enough in their bed, sleep was restless. It took sometimes upwards of two hours, just lying there, silently staring up at the ceiling while they waited for their minds to calm down so they could succumb to la-la land. Rick would wake up a few times a night, feeling like he was being watched. His tired eyes would pop open in a heartbeat and he'd lift his head just enough to peer around the darkness of the room to make sure they were alone. After all, if someone as unthreatening as Jesus could manage to slip in so easily, how much easier could it be for someone who meant them harm? Rick had to get up at least once a night anyway to use the bathroom; cursing himself for getting older, while simultaneously thankful he was one of the lucky ones who was able to still be alive to silently complain about getting up in the middle of the night, every night, to use the bathroom like some old man with the bladder the side of an acorn. Before he would allow himself to return to bed, Rick walked the upstairs hall, listening closely at each bedroom door to make sure everyone was sleeping soundly. He would then make the trek downstairs to make sure every window was shut and every door was locked. When he was certain nothing was amiss, he would head back upstairs, listen in at the bedroom doors again one more time and then return to bed.
By the time his head would hit the pillow and he was just beginning to truly drift off to sleep once more, Georgie would wake up with a terrified yelp and tears streaking down her face. He first night, she'd whacked Rick pretty good in the side of his face, by his left eye, when he'd woken up with her and tried to calm her down; to assure her she was just having a bad dream.
For Georgie, though, the nightmare had felt so real.
While she slept, her mind tortured her with the Abraham and Glenn's deaths, and then the deaths of her children were also sporadically thrown in; like salt in a wound. Reliving the memories of seeing bloody chunk missing from her daughter's neck as she died in her arms, having to shoot her own son in the head as to spare him the agony of being eaten alive by walkers, Abraham's blood splattering on her as his head was beaten to a pulp, and the same with Glenn, but with the added trauma of his left eye popped halfway out of his skull as he struggled to speak to Maggie. Every night, those key deaths played over and over in her mind. Losing those people she cared about, witnessing their deaths or the mercy killer, in her son's case, was growing to be unbearable. All that death, all that horror; she wished to no end for it to just stop. What was even worse was the nightmares getting muddled; forcing her to dream about her children get beaten to death by Negan instead of how they actually died, or dreaming about Rick or herself dying via Lucille.
The first night, after they'd returned to Alexandria, she had woken from a nightmare where she thought she'd been bludgeoned to death. She'd woken up with a scream, clamping her hands upon her forehead and hunching forward. The nightmare had felt so real, that she swore her head was throbbing in pain from being struck by something. As Rick woke with her, holding her against him as he calmed her down and reassured her that "whatever it was, it was just a nightmare," the ache in her head didn't immediately go away. Rick had gotten up and went to grab some Ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet and a glass of water from the kitchen downstairs. He came back and handed both the pills and the glass over to Georgie. As she knocked the pills back with one gulp of water, Rick said it was probably just a tension headache, and that it would pass with sleep.
It did pass, but only for a few hours. Once they were both up for the day and trying to figure out how to go about their lives now, Georgie's headache returned and lingered over the course of the day. She did what she could to conceal it, not wanting to use up any more Ibuprofen; knowing someone might need it for something more serious down the line. They had ice in the freezer she could wrap in a towel and press to her forehead if she needed to.
What helped was focusing her attention on Judith, who was both blissfully unaware of the traumas her family had witnessed and yet very receptive at sensing something was wrong. Her father and brother were solemn and quiet, and that made Judith irritable and fussy for Georgie while she fed her, or bathed her, dressed her or tried playing with her. Fresh air, taking walks around the roads within Alexandria seemed to be the only thing that calmed Judith, whereas Georgie found it made her irritable and fussy.
Georgie knew that by leaving the house, she'd be forced to endure seeing other people and socialize with them to some extent. But she didn't want to socialize. She wanted to stay at home with the shades drawn and hide away in her grief while cuddling Judith. And she couldn't even get cuddles either. Maybe it was because the child was just sensitive to the moods around her or maybe it was just growing pains but, if it wasn't Rick, she didn't want to be cuddled by anyone. Not even her own big brother.
What Georgie could've really used was Carol.
She wished Carol was there so she could just talk to her. Maybe even hug her. Georgie missed Carol, terribly, especially now. She'd become her best friend and now she was gone. She didn't want to allow the thought, but Georgie had more or less resigned herself to believing Carol was likely dead now. Carol had never been alone in this world before. The longest she'd been alone was maybe an hour or two after Rick figuratively kicked her to the curb after what she'd done at the prison, just before she found Georgie on the road. Carol had been gone four days now. Her chances at being alive were pretty slim. It was just easier to believe she was dead instead of alive out there, having run away from the people who loved her in Alexandria.
In a way, Georgie was kind of jealous. Carol was oblivious to everything that had happened in that clearing with Negan. She didn't have to see any of that happen. She didn't have to hear the crunching of skull bone or wet sound of brain matter being pulverized. She didn't have to relive it in her dreams and nightmares.
Then again, maybe it wasn't just jealousy that Georgie felt in regard to Carol.
Maybe it was relief, too; relief that this was one less terrible thing that Carol would have to think about. If Carol never returned, that is. If she did, no doubt she would feel deep sadness and grief over the losses, the same as if she had been with the others at the clearing, too. Who's the say what is worse? Being present and not being able to do anything about preventing it, or not being present and the possibility that maybe there was a slim chance your presence might've helped a little. Really, what was one extra person when there were probably a hundred or more of those Saviors? One more Alexandrian wouldn't have made a lick of difference. Hell, maybe Carol's presence would've altered their lineup and someone other than Abraham and Glenn might've been killed. If it had been Carol killed, for example, Daryl would've done more than just punch Negan and maybe more than two people would've joined that fate. Maybe they'd all be dead now.
Who's the say what would've happened, if any of it had been done or experienced differently?
Too much thinking on it was giving Georgie more of a terrible headache. Rick was right in that it was stress related, because it only felt worse whenever she let her mind linger and overthink back to the clearing; the what-ifs and just the event in general.
This third morning after returning to Alexandria, Georgie was up before Rick, who seemed to finally be getting some better rest and she didn't want to disturb him as she sat up to start her day.
She sat there at the edge of her side of the bed, gripping the mattress gently and staring at the floor while she mentally woke up a bit more and thought of all the things she needed to do. She'd taken a shower the night before, so she was good there. She heard no rustling sounds or whimpers over the baby monitor so Georgie knew Judith was still asleep in her little bedroom, but Georgie would take the monitor with her for when Judith did begin to stir; again, as not to disturb Rick. The man needed to sleep. Slowly standing up, she quietly stepped around the bed to Rick's side and grabbed the monitor off the nightstand and clipped it to the waistband of her pajama pants as she walked just as quietly out of their bedroom.
In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and pulled her bushy ginger locks back into a ponytail. The entire time she never looked at herself; not once. Whenever she glimpsed her reflection, all she saw was the color of her hair and that made her think instantly of Abraham, and then how Negan had mistakenly assumed he had been her brother.
In a sense, he had been. In her old life, with her actual family, she had been the oldest of four children; with one sister and two younger brothers, the youngest of whom had killed her daughter Avery after he'd died and turned into a walker, unbeknownst to Georgie. But Georgie had never had an older sibling. She'd never had anyone to look out for her and pick on her like a big brother or sister does. Not until she got to know Abraham better after they came to Alexandria. When she threw herself into helping with the construction crew after her son died, she'd bonded with her fellow redhead; a trait that was probably what first endeared Georgie to Abraham as it were. It had really only been recently that he'd started referring to her as Little Red to his Big Red and she had enjoyed it. When she was in the throes of her grief and didn't want to talk about it, Abraham didn't seem to give the impression that he wanted to get her to open up like Rick or Carol did. He would talk to her like one of the guys, making dirty jokes that took her mind off the shit show the world had become and she appreciated him for that.
Abraham might not have been her brother by blood, but none of these people in Alexandria that she loved and cared about were her family by blood. For that, Georgie would always think of him now as her brother. As Georgie walked downstairs to start a pot of coffee, she decided that if anyone asked about family she'd lost, she would now extend the role of older brother to Abraham.
One of the few good things in this world nowadays: you really could choose your family.
Just as she turned the corner into the kitchen, after coming down off the last step, Michonne's bedroom door opened up.
Both women stopped and stared silently at each other for a moment, almost as if they were sizing each other up. Instead, they smiled sadly at each other; obvious both their minds were still equally plagued by the same tragedies. While Georgie turned her attention to making her way to the coffee pot with which she would fill with water, Michonne was tossing her katana in its scabbard over her shoulder and carrying a duffel bag into the living room. While the water ran from the tap, Georgie let her gaze wonder over toward Michonne and saw her hunched down in front of the fireplace. Curiosity had finally gotten the best of Georgie, so she set the pot down on the counter, delaying that task for the moment while she walked over with her hands on her hips and a curious raise of her eyebrow.
"What's up?" Georgie questioned in a low voice.
"Going out," was the short response. Michonne didn't even look back to answer. Instead, she seemed to be struggling to pull something down from inside the chimney.
"Out where?"
"Out."
Georgie moved her arms to fold them across her chest as Michonne withdrew a rifle and tried slipping it into the duffel bag as quietly and discreetly as possible. "Whatever you do out there, don't get yourself killed."
Zipping the duffel bag closed, Michonne stayed silent. Standing back up, she lifted the bag by its vinyl handles and walked toward Georgie, as quiet as the grave, stopping mere inches away. Leaning in ever so slightly, Georgie could just barely feel Michonne's breath on her face.
"Don't tell Rick where I've gone. Please."
"How can I tell him?" Georgie shrugged. "I don't know where you're going."
Michonne made eye contact with Georgie. "Target practice," she admitted in a whisper. "Guns aren't my forte. I need to get better with one."
Georgie almost snickered. "You think we're gonna be able to fight back, don't you?" With a heavy sigh, she cast her eyes downward. "I wish I had that kind of optimism."
"Just don't tell Rick. Okay?"
"I won't give him any details. If he asks where you went, I'll tell him you went outside the walls to blow off steam by killing walkers in the woods. Or I'll just say you were already gone when I woke up," Georgie remarked. "It might've been better for you not to tell me anything at all. Plausible deniability and all that."
While Michonne didn't smile in the slightest, there seemed to be somewhat of a smirk in her eyes; a smirk of appreciation or maybe even amusement. It was hard to tell with her sometimes.
"Just be careful," she added, stepping backward toward where she left the coffee pot. "We've met our quota on loss for the year, I think."
"That's why I'm doing this."
Turning fully away, Georgie reached for the pot and lifted it up. Before she could even look back at Michonne, or say anything else, she heard the front door clicking open and then closed, signifying she was now alone downstairs because Michonne had left.
Once the coffee had been scooped out of the can and into the filter and the machine was percolating, Georgie removed the baby monitor from her hip and held it up to watch Judith as she moved around. The rustling noises Georgie had heard from the monitor got her thinking that the toddler was beginning to wake up, but Judith was simply finding a new position to continue sleeping in.
Instead of setting the monitor down on the counter, she held it in her hands against her abdomen. The small of her back was pressed against the kitchen island and she was staring blankly at the coffee machine; enjoying the process of not actually thinking of anything at the moment.
It was probably only a few minutes that passed when the shuffling of feet broke her out of her empty daydream.
Turning her head to the left, Georgie found Rick sauntering into the kitchen, wearing just his pajama pants and his wayward brown curls, which seemed to be peppered with even more grey hairs than were there a week ago.
"Morning," he greeted, laconically, while rubbing the remainders of sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand.
They looked at each other with tired eyes and both attempted to smile.
"You seem more rested today," Georgie remarked.
"I was only woken up once last night," he replied, stepping in front of her to open the cupboard and pull a few coffee cups out to set down on the counter next to the coffee machine.
"Sorry."
Turning around, Rick shook his head. "Don't be. It's not your fault."
"It's my nightmares waking me up, which wakes you up."
"I haven't been able to sleep well anyway. Whether it's you crying out or Judith or just my own mind, I'd be up whether I wanted to or not," Rick assured. "And I did sleep a little better, if not longer this time."
"I'm glad."
With a small smile, Rick placed a hand on Georgie's left hip and leaned in to place a small kiss upon her lips. "I love you," he whispered before pressing his forehead to hers.
Georgie closed her eyes; finding solace in this simple gesture. "I love you, too."
"Promise me, that's the last thing we say to each other whenever we go anywhere separately."
"Okay."
"Even if it's just me going outside these walls to clear walkers off those spikes; tell me you love me and I'll do the same."
"I will."
"I don't want my last words to you to be…" Rick trailed off for a moment. When he lifted his head, his eyes seemed moist with tears that so desperately wanted to fall but that he vehemently refused against. Blinking away the prospect of those tears, he cleared his throat instead. Georgie could see it in his face where his mind had gone; back to the clearing, specifically to Glenn's garbled attempt to speak to Maggie one last time.
Maggie, I will find you.
Because Glenn always found a way to come back to her, each time they got separated and it seemed like they'd never see each other again; after the prison fell, when he was trapped in the rotating door when Noah had been killed, and when he'd gone off with Nicholas to start a fire to distract the hordes of walkers but ended up trapped under a dumpster. Every time he waited it out and found a way to return.
But the last time there was no returning from.
They'd never see each other again until Maggie took her own last breath, and that's even assuming there's any sort of afterlife.
Georgie could understand why Rick would want either of their last words to the other to be "I love you" because it was a statement of fact, not a promise of something that might not happen, no matter how sweet and loving it was. He wanted her to know that he would love her, up until the end, and he wanted to know she loved him, too. That was what he wanted to carry with him into the ever after if he went first. Those were the words he wanted to play over and over in his head if she went first.
"Where's Michonne?" he asked after a moment. "I noticed her bedroom door open and she only leaves it open if she's gone."
"She, uh, she was gone before I came downstairs," Georgie lied with a shrug. She pushed off the kitchen island upon hearing the coffee maker stop percolating. "Maybe she took a watch shift."
"Yeah, maybe." Rick didn't seem too bothered by that idea, and he didn't seem to suspect anything else. It wasn't as if he had a reason to, anyway. Grabbing the coffee pot, he poured the dark brown liquid into both their cups. "Creamer and three sugars, right?"
Georgie smirked. "Yeah."
Rick smirked as well. It was easy to remember how Georgie liked her coffee. Lori had taken hers the same way, so it was one less thing to learn. The coffee was still bitter these days, though. All they had anymore was powdered creamer and that was in short supply, which meant using it sparingly. That, in turn, meant everyone had to learn to like the bitter flavor or just not drink it at all until more creamer or some other substitute could be found. Finding a cow would be amazing, but that was just wishful thinking.
Holding their cups in their respective hands, Rick and Georgie both waited for their beverage to cool down a bit before taking their first, initial sips. Instead, they just stared at each other for a moment; finding a short, happy moment together to just bask in.
Then Judith began to whimper over the monitor in Georgie's left hand while nursing her coffee cup in her right.
Rick sighed and set his cup down and took the monitor from Georgie. "Let me see," he muttered, staring at the black and white image on the screen. Judith was standing up, gripping the railing and jerking her body back as if she was trying to pry the railing off from the displeasure she felt in waking up alone in the dark of her room with a very likely wet diaper. "I'll be back."
Letting his hand brush along Georgie's arm, he set the monitor down on the counter next to his cup and slipped out of the kitchen. Georgie listened to his bare feet climbing the stairs while she turned her attention to the monitor to watch Judith turning toward the direction of the door; clearing hearing movement of someone in the upstairs hall, but unaware at the moment that it was her father.
A few seconds later, Georgie watched as a figure passed in front of the monitor in Judith's room; revealing easily enough that it was Rick stepping up to the crib.
"Good morning," he greeted the little girl and hoisted her out of her crib to hold her on his hip. "Oh, here, look at that." He walked toward the window with her and pointed to something while Judith began to fuss. "Shh."
Georgie smiled, bringing her coffee cup up to her lips, inhaling the scent and maintaining her gaze on the monitor.
"Daddy loves you."
A short while later, Carl was awake, too, nursing his own cup of coffee which he was drinking black like his father while sitting quietly on a stool at the kitchen island. The teen was staring pretty intently into his cup while Georgie stood at the other side of the island, near the fridge, with Judith on her hip. Rick came appeared in the kitchen a moment later, tucking in the bottom of his blue Gingham plaid shirt into his faded black jeans. His utility belt was already looped around his waist but missing its ornamentation; Rick's Colt Python.
Georgie had watched him for the last three days, how his right hand would instinctually gravitate toward that spot, as if expecting to be able to touch the gun, but then remembering it was gone now. It was like a phantom limb. Rick could still feel it there because it had become such a part of him and a part of him now felt a little lost without it. It was almost akin to a security blanket, in a way. He made do, though, where he could. He still had his hatchet, and they still had other guns to use; none of which were on him at the moment as he stood there with his children and Georgie.
Shifting Judith from her right hip over to her left, Georgie cleared her throat, just about to ask Rick a question when the walkie-talkie clipped to his utility belt crackled to life.
"Rick, you need to get to the main gate. Now."
It was Tobin, and the urgency in his voice was rather alarming.
Without wasting a second, Rick brought the walkie up to his mouth and replied back. "What's going on?"
"It's Negan. He's here with a lot of his men."
Rick immediately tensed. His eyes scanned to Georgie and then Carl; both of whom shared the same panicked look. While Carl seemed more on the angry side of things, Georgie blanched with fear.
"I'm coming," Rick assured, returning the walkie-talkie to its place on his utility belt. Sparing only seconds, he reached forward and kissed Judith on the forehead and then touched his hand to Georgie's arm. "I'll be back." Looking between his girlfriend and his son, he added, "Stay here."
Georgie moved to follow after him, preparing to pass Judith to her brother but Rick seemed to sense as much as he stopped and turned to shake his head at her.
"Rick—"
"Please. Stay here," he pleaded, holding her gaze. Then, more adamantly, "I will be back."
He was practically a blur out the front door and down the front steps, but when he reached the sidewalk, he stopped again and turned around. While Carl was hovering in the doorway, Georgie stood front and center on the porch, still holding Judith; all three of them staring after him. Rick tried to put on a brave face for them.
"Remember: I love you."
"Love you, too, dad," Carl replied.
Georgie nodded and smiled a small, sad smile. "I love you, too."
Without another word, Rick continued down the road. The entire time neither Georgie nor Carl looked away; like two parents making sure their child walked safely into school all by his or herself for the first time.
"They're early," Carl spoke. "He said a week. It's only been three days." The sound in his voice, that anger, was obvious.
Georgie looked over her shoulder and watched him duck back inside the house, so she followed, albeit at a slower pace. Even though Dr. Carson had patched her back up at Hilltop, she still had pain in her leg which caused her a limp slightly. Rick had been getting at her to take some meds for that as well, but she refused. She'd been through worse and the pain was bearable as long as she didn't put her weight on it too long.
"We can't just let them come here and take half our stuff. We barely have anything as it is," Carl continued to bemoan, and Georgie sympathized with that anger he was feeling and expressing.
"We can't stop them, either," Georgie lamented, sadly. "There's more of them than us. We would literally die trying. And then what good would that do?"
"We can hide some things so they won't take 'em. Guns, knives, food."
"Where would we hide them?"
"In…in closets."
"Closets would be one of the first places anyone would look for anything."
"Then…the washing machine. No one would want wet or dirty clothes."
"And what happens if they realize we're purposely hiding things from them?" Georgie questioned. "We're not in a positon to poke the bear right now, Carl."
"Well, I'm not just gonna stay here and watch them take our shit. Fuck that."
As Carl darted for the front door, Georgie moved to grab his arm and hold him back. "Carl, no. Your dad said—"
"You're not my mom, okay. You can't make me stay."
Georgie's grip immediately released and she leaned away from him. Pushing his comment aside, she swallowed that hurt and sighed. "I don't have to listen to me, but your dad wanted you to stay here. When he's gone, you're man of the house."
Carl's shoulders slumped. "I didn't mean what I said like that," he sort of apologized. "But I need to try to do something. Tell my dad I snuck out if you want so he doesn't blame you for me leaving the house."
"I feel like I'm lying for everyone today," Georgie frowned.
Carl raised an eyebrow. He was about to question what she meant, but shook it off and instead left the house.
Georgie sighed deeply and she could feel her nerves alight with fire. She was sure that if she hadn't had her arms around Judith's midsection that her hands would be shaking from anxiety and fear. Her heart was already pounding a mile a minute. In her head she was suddenly picturing all these worst case scenarios involving Carl getting killed by doing something stupid and Rick hating her for the rest of their lives because she should've somehow physically subdued the teen to prevent him from going anywhere. Or what if Rick talked back to Negan, or reacted out of anger to something Negan might do, and then Rick or someone else gets killed. And then there were all those Saviors. What would they be like, coming into Alexandria, taking their stuff? Would they be orderly? Would they be like pirates of yore who pillaged, plundered and raped? Would it be a civil process or would it be chaos?
Holding Judith tight to her chest, she wanted to take the girl and go hide in one those closets upstairs until the figurative storm passed, but she instead chose to insure Judith's mouth was adorned with her beloved pacifier and that Judith had a toy to occupy her with. Carrying Judith and a stuffed panda bear out onto the front porch, Georgie took a seat in one of the patio chairs and waited for the storm to come her way.
The trucks moved in, parking at different positions throughout Alexandria. The Saviors followed next, going into homes and picking through everything, deciding what they wanted to take; clothes, DVDs, coffee machines, and even furniture. The only upside was that they seemed to only talk among themselves and didn't make any messes as they went along.
Georgie sat in silence with Judith, not even acknowledging the three Saviors that came up to the house and greeted her with a tip of the imaginary hat before walking right into the house like they owned the place. She didn't need to hear their trumped up explanation what why they were doing any of this when Alexandria had already set aside half of their supplies at the pantry to present to Negan during their original collection day. She stared straight ahead at the empty, overgrown lot across the street while Judith curled warmly against her.
Despite being shy of a year old, the girl could sense Georgie was unhappy and that something was amiss today, as she had noticed with everyone the last few days. The only difference was that she was letting Georgie cuddle her again, and that may or may not be simply because Georgie was the only familiar face around.
Though she kept her eyes trained forward, Georgie could still see out of her peripheral vision. She could see the other trucks, the other Saviors going in and out of houses. What's more is that she could hear Negan's boisterous voice carrying on the breeze. Even if she hadn't been able to hear the tone of his voice to know it was him, the fact that he was talking so much was enough to go by, because that man sure loved the sound of his own voice and didn't ever seem to shut the fuck up.
Out the corner of her right eye, Georgie saw two of the Saviors dragging a large mattress out through the front door with only the slightest amount of struggle. When they made it out, she finally looked their way and watched them carry the mattress down the front steps and up into the supply truck parked in front of the house next door.
One of the Saviors chuckled when he noticed Georgie was watching now. "You ever go camping? It's gonna be like that again for ya."
A few minutes after the Saviors had already gone back into the house, they came outside again with another mattress. They repeated the process two more times; the last time was when they were carrying out a twin mattress Georgie knew to belong to Carl's bed. They had taken her and Rick's mattress, Michonne's mattress and what had been Carol's mattress.
We still have roofs over our heads, Georgie told herself; trying to see the silver lining. We have the skills to hunt for food. We have clean clothes, we have blankets. We have each other.
And then a muffled gunshot went off.
Georgie had stood up by that point and walked to the porch railing so she could crane to see up the road where the sound had originated. She could just make out the figures of Rick heading toward the Infirmary with Negan in tow, and Rick appeared to be carrying Lucille. The Saviors seemed to stop for a few moments; waiting to see if Negan would need them to do anything different, but no word came, so they continued as they were.
Worried that someone had been shot, Georgie's first instinct was to want to run toward the Infirmary and see if whoever might've been shot was okay. But she had to look after Judith and keep her safe. She was the only one home, and if something happened to Rick or to Carl, whom she still had no idea where he might've gone, then she was all Judith had left.
Sasha and Maggie were still at Hilltop, Carol and Morgan were MIA, Daryl was taken by the Saviors, Tara had gone off with Heath two weeks ago on that supply run, Abraham and Glenn were dead, and Michonne was somewhere outside the walls; and who's to say Michonne would be able to get back in now or at all. Who's to say something wouldn't happen to her while she was out there, and how would they really ever know? Gabriel had proven a big help with Judith, there was Aaron and Eric, and Tobin. Rosita and Eugene, too, as family. But it wasn't really the same. The family they'd all come to Alexandria as was very near a shadow of its former self.
Georgie had to stay where she was, in the house. Rick had asked that of her and she would oblige him for as long as she had to.
She loved him, she trusted him.
She would protect his child with her life.
That was currently her only purpose.
As Judith began to whine, possibly from hunger or just general discontent, Georgie bounced the girl slightly on her hip and shushed her soothingly, with her lips pressed gently into the girls dark blonde locks. "It's okay, sweetie. It's alright."
Sitting back down together in the patio chair, Georgie did so in a way that Judith could face her and see her face. With a calm, happy smile, Georgie began to hum the first children's tune that popped in her head, and the only thing she could think of was "Edelweiss" from The Sound of Music, which her mother used to sing to her as a child when she was sick, and what Georgie used to sing to Tristan and Avery when they were sick as well. Granted, Judith wasn't sick, but the melody seemed to do the trick.
Watching Georgie's face rather seriously, Judith's eyelids lowered; but not in a way that she was going to fall asleep or anything like that. She was just feeling comfortable again. Her tiny hands slackened their grip on her stuffed panda bear and she leaned her body forward as she clambered for Georgie's shirt to seek the full comfort she was after.
Catching the girl's drift, Georgie pulled Judith up against her stomach. She wrapped her arms around the small body while Judith lowered her head upon Georgie's chest and focused on sucking on that pacifier in her mouth.
After a while, Georgie was almost certain Judith might've nodded off after all, but then a second gunshot rang out; this one much louder because it had obviously happened outside. Judith jumped at the sound, and whimpered slightly, so Georgie hushed her again.
The Saviors seemed to be finished with the house and the one next door, but the last one, the one she'd lived in with Jake and Tristan, was still being picked apart. For now, at least, Georgie was breathing a little easier.
At this point, she didn't care what they'd taken from inside. She just wanted them gone.
She watched them head toward the blue house on the corner and leave her alone with Judith. Some went off toward the direction of the townhouses or toward the main gate.
Just get the hell out of here, Georgie silently wished. Maybe get swarmed by a thousand walkers on your way out and die, while you're at it.
Then she saw Rick.
He was coming down the road, holding a bloodied Lucille, with his head hung low and walking at a suspiciously anxious pace.
When he looked up toward the house and found Georgie there on the porch with Judith, there was a momentary glimpse of panic in his eyes that was quickly subdued by the loving smile Georgie briefly flashed him with. His shoulders slumped and he hurried up to the front steps.
"What were those gunshots?" Georgie questioned as Judith whipped her head around to see her father.
"It was nothing. No one got hurt. You need to come to the church. We're having a quick meeting."
"About what? Have you seen Carl?"
"Yeah, I saw him. He was in the Infirmary. He's okay." Rick beckoned to her to come down from the porch and go with him. He wasn't looking directly at her, but it was obvious he was just trying to deal with everything currently transpiring and it was a considerably heavy burden. "There's two guns missing from the armory. They're listed on the inventory but not accounted for and Negan's not happy. He's practically holding Olivia hostage until we figure out where the guns went, and if we don't find them, he'll kill her."
"I wish you could somehow swing that bat against his head a few times till he was dead without us losing any more of our own," Georgie muttered, eyeing Lucille, as she carried Judith and joined Rick at his side.
Rick didn't respond.
A few minutes later, all of the Alexandrians were present inside the church. Sitting in the front pew with Carl, and Judith on her lap again, Georgie looked briefly over her shoulder and offered a lame smile at Aaron and Eric while they waited for Rick to say his piece. He was standing at the window, where he had Lucille upon the sill, waiting as the last Alexandrian wandered in and took a seat toward the back.
For the most part, everyone knew why they were there. They had overheard or been given the Cliffs Notes version. They knew it was about some missing guns, an angry Negan and Olivia being in the crosshairs.
His right hand shaking ever so slightly, Rick picked at his fingernails with his thumbnail, staring at Lucille while gathering his thoughts. When he stepped away, he turned around and walked over toward the center of the church, in full view of everyone present.
"I thought about hiding some of the guns. I did it before," he addressed, gesturing in the direction of the metal wall extension outside the church. "I figured I could bury some out there. Maybe we don't touch them for years."
"Years?" Tobin questioned.
"Yeah. That's right," Rick nodded, hands on his hips as he stepped forward up the aisle a bit. "But what if the Saviors find those guns? What if we run into them when we have those guns on us? One of us dies. Maybe more than that. Maybe a lot more. Doesn't matter how many bullets we have. It isn't enough." Looking out over every face, either staring back at him or solemnly down into their laps, Rick turned and paused for a moment, letting his words sink in, before walking back to the front. "They win. It's that black and white. Hiding a couple of guns isn't the answer. Not anymore. We don't have to like it, but we need to give them over. A Glock 9 and a .22. That's what they're looking for. Who has it?" He paused again, waiting to see if someone would speak up, but no one did. "Someone knows where they are or they know who does. If they don't find them, they're gonna kill Olivia. They'll do it."
Scott stood up. "Why do they care?" he questioned. "Two guns aren't a threat to them. But those guns could help protect us from whatever else it out there."
Rick nodded. "Do you have 'em?"
"No. Wish I did," Scott replied with a shake of his as he sat back down.
"Most of you weren't there," Rick continued, alluding to the clearing; to being surrounded by Saviors as Abraham and Glenn were killed. "You didn't have to watch. But you can look away now when someone else dies, or you can help solve this. We give them what they want and we live in peace."
From behind her, Georgie could hear quiet mutterings between Aaron and Eric, but she couldn't make out what they were saying merely because her attention was focused on what Rick was saying to all of them.
"Don't," Aaron whispered, a little bit louder now, allowing Georgie to hear. "Now's not the time."
"It is," Eric insisted, before standing up and staring at Rick. "Say we find the guns. How are we gonna get out of this, Rick?"
Rick stepped forward, holding Eric's gaze. "There is no way out of this." Turning away, he gestured to everyone. "Let me put this to all of you as clearly as I can: I'm not in charge anymore. Negan is. Now who has the guns?"
Again, no one spoke up.
"Not everyone's here," Eugene remarked, from a little further back.
Rick's eyes immediate began to rescan the crowd.
Michonne, Rosita and Spencer were unaccounted for.
Georgie immediately sank back into her seat, bringing forth the image of Michonne removing the shotgun from the fireplace. However, Negan and the Saviors weren't looking for a shotgun, and if the entire inventory was accounted for except for the Glock 9 and the .22, then the shotgun was never on the inventory and had been stashed there a long while back. Michonne wouldn't have been stupid to take any weapons from the armory without signing them out, especially if she was being so secretive about leaving with a shotgun she had hidden away. Rosita and Spencer were another story.
Regardless of whether or not Rosita and Spencer were the culprits, Georgie felt compelled to let Rick know the truth about where Michonne had gotten off to, and with what.
But not now. Not with everyone else present.
"Well, until those not here get back, we still need to figure out where those guns are," Rick continued. "Maybe the guns were taken outside the walls. If not, that means they're here, somewhere, and we need to find them. At the very least, we need to buy ourselves some time buy looking. So let's go, let's search houses, yards. Literally leave no stone unturned if you have to." When no one made an immediate move to get up and go, Rick pointed to the doors. "Come on, go."
Without further incentive, each person began standing up and filing out of the church to head in different directions. Georgie walked over to Carl and passed his sister over to him.
"Take your sister home," she commanded. "Stay in the house this time."
Carl just nodded, scooping Judith into his arms and walking off with her without a word.
Georgie could tell by his solemnity that wherever he'd gone and whatever he'd done must've culminated in the Infirmary, since that's where Rick said he'd seen Carl, and because father and son seemed to be avoiding eye contact.
"We have no guns in our house," Georgie said; hanging back to stand beside Rick. "Not anymore, that is."
Rick turned and looked at her. "What's that mean?"
Once they were the last two people inside, Georgie turned to face him. "I lied this morning when you asked if I'd seen Michonne, but only because she asked me to."
"Lied about what?" he asked; hands on his hips.
"She came out of her room the same time I was coming into the kitchen. She had a duffel bag with her and removed a rifle that had been tucked up inside the fireplace. She said she was going outside the walls. Target practice, or whatever she might really be doing. She said she needs to work on getting better using a gun. For all I know she's gone off looking for the Saviors' real compound with the goal of assassinating Negan on her own terms."
Off Rick's frustrated sigh, he pinched his nose with his thumb and index finger. "I really don't need this right now."
"None of us need this right now, Rick. We're all figuring this new life together, but in different ways. Carl's angry and ready to go off guns-a-blazing—"
"I know," Rick groaned. "He almost shot and killed a Savior in the Infirmary earlier."
"—I'm having damn night terrors and don't even want to leave the house. Rosita walks around looking like she wants to murder everyone, Eugene's reverted into being a boy scared of his own shadow. We're all fumbling here. We're all angry and scared and depressed, but this is the life we live now. This is the world we live in. We gotta make do," Georgie spoke, lifting her hands to pull Rick's down from his face so he'd look at her. And he did, along with another heavy sigh. "You can confront Michonne about where she went and worry about that later, but right now let's looks for those damn guns and hope they're within these walls and not outside them."
Rick nodded. After a moment of not saying anything, he looked up and stepped over to the windowsill where Lucille; grabbing it up. "We should check the empty houses that no one's living in. Maggie and Glenn's place, maybe the Monroe's since Spencer isn't here."
"Where's Olivia right now?" Georgie asked as they began to head for the doors.
"Negan's got her in the courtyard beside the Monroe's house."
"Let's start there, then. That way we can keep an eye on her."
Rick tutted. "What can we possibly do to keep an eye on her. If he tries roughing her up, how do I stop that without getting her killed or you killed or myself killed? We're damned if we do, damned if we don't, Georgie."
Outside the church doors, Aaron was waiting for them.
"My house is clean. Eric and I would never take a gun from the armory and hide it and then not just hand it over when Olivia is life hangs in the balance," he insisted.
"I know. I trust you. We have no guns either, but we're gonna head to Spencer's and try there since he's not here to do it," Rick remarked as Aaron began to walk with him and Georgie.
"With Rosita gone, too, maybe someone should check our second house," Georgie suggested. "With how she's been lately, I don't think we should completely throw out the idea it's possible she might be hiding the guns."
Aaron nodded in agreement. "Better safe than sorry," he said. "I'll grab Eugene and have him help me. He lives there, too, after all. He might know of hiding spots."
Rick cast an eye toward the Monroe's townhouse, before glancing back at Aaron. "Come straight to us first if you find anything."
"Will do."
Rick was staring out the living room window, with the curtain pushed aside slightly, as he watched Negan relaxing in a patio chair beside a very tense and terrified Olivia in the courtyard. Seething with anger, Rick stalked away from the window with a shaky sigh. He bent down to look underneath the coffee and when he stood up he tossed one of the reading chairs onto its back. It didn't reveal any missing guns but it was a big therapeutic. At each book shelf, he knocked books over or threw them to the floor altogether, but there were no guns hidden there either.
"Nothing. Still."
Rick turned around to see Gabriel standing over in the dining room; the pastor having joined Rick and Georgie in searching the Monroe's townhouse when he saw them approaching it.
"I just…I feel like…" Gabriel continued, walking forward into the living room. "I know this is going to work out."
Dropping to his knees to push over more books on the floor, Rick looked every bit pessimistic. "How?"
"We'll find the guns. We'll get through today. Then we'll find a way to go forward, how to beat this."
Frustrated, Rick shoved the books piled into his lap away and stood back up. "There is no beating this," he bit out, moving on to the next book shelf.
"Yes, there is, somehow. I have faith in us. I have faith in you," Gabriel stressed, watching as Rick crouched down, tossing more books angrily aside. "Things change. You're my friend. It… wasn't always that way."
Looking back up at Gabriel, Rick ran a hand over his mouth, sighed and stood up again.
"Where's Michonne? Could she possibly have—"
"She doesn't have anything that they're looking for," Georgie informed as she entered the room from the kitchen at the other end of that floor of the house.
Both men looked over at Georgie approaching while Rick removed a framed diploma from the wall. Maybe he was expecting a wall safe behind it.
"What you did with the graves, it was quick thinkin'," Rick said to Gabriel. "Thank you."
Georgie was out of that loop, in regard to whatever Rick was talking about, and chose to focus on the couch cushions; pulling them off and tossing them to the floor before finding nothing but a green marble and a yellow twist-tie.
"It was nice digging a grave I knew would stay empty," Gabriel quipped as Aaron seeming appeared, from out of seemingly nowhere, in the archway between the living room and entrance hall.
"No luck?" Aaron inquired, looking a bit more stressed out than Rick, if that was at all possible.
The tight jaw and the anxious look in Rick's eyes said otherwise, though. He shook his head ever so slightly toward Aaron as a response.
"We searched the house; Rosita's," Aaron continued. "There's nothing. So what do we do now?"
Looking around the immediate area he was standing in, Rick sighed. "If they were anywhere, they'd be here," he insisted. "Spencer's done this kind of thing before."
Realization hit Georgie. "He did, didn't he? After we made it back here and that herd followed, you mentioned something about Spencer stealing food from the pantry. Deanna took it back. That's how you found out. She didn't feel it right to keep that from you."
Rick nodded. "We keep looking," he remarked, setting the framed diploma he'd removed from the wall down onto the same chair he'd had sat in during his interview with Deanna, months ago. "Maybe today works out."
"I'll check the garage," Aaron offered, taking off for the stairs.
"I'll look in Deanna's office again," Gabriel added.
Rick patted the pastor's upper arm and walked back over toward the window overlooking the courtyard again, running his arms up and running both hands through his hair.
"Kitchen's clear, that I'm sure of, but I'll give the bedrooms another look," Georgie spoke and began to turn out of the room after Gabriel.
As she was halfway up the stairs, she heard Rick call out to her, and she was back down the stairs as quick as she could; a slight hobble in her step the only sign that she was dealing with any pain in her leg. But even then, she was running on plenty of adrenaline with the Saviors and the threat against Olivia that any semblance of pain wasn't even in her thoughts.
"What?" she asked, rounding the couch to find Rick crouched down at the base of the window and hunched forward.
"Floor vent," he answered, holding up exactly that. Tossing it aside, he looked over his shoulder briefly at Georgie. "I didn't even notice this spot earlier."
"My kids used to remove the floor vents at my house and throw their toys inside."
Rick gave Georgie his full focus for a longer moment. "Carl, too."
Georgie smirked. "Spencer is somewhat immature. I wouldn't put it past him to hide stuff in a vent like a child."
Shoving his hands into the vent hole, Rick struck gold almost immediately, pulling out several canned goods. On further inspection, he removed a bottle of what looked to be whiskey that was slightly less than halfway empty. Crouching down beside Rick, Georgie waited curiously as Rick bent forward and practically stuck his face into the hole to see better.
Shifting around, Rick lay down on his side and shoved his right arm all the way into the vent hole, feeling around until his hand hit soft material with something hard and lumpy inside. Grabbing onto it, he pulled it out of the hole and sat up, revealing a black pouch of some sort. Neither he nor Georgie sad anything as he opened the pouch and tipped it over; causing two guns to tumble out onto the floor. Gripping both guns—the missing Glock 9 and .22—in one hand and the pouch in the other, Rick looked up at Georgie with an expression of sheer relief with a hint of a smile somewhere in there for her as well.
Georgie smirked while he looked up toward the ceiling for a moment, almost as if saying a prayer of thanks. "Crisis averted?"
Bringing his eyes back down to hers, he nodded. Scrambling up to his feet, he placed both guns back into the pouch and walked over to where he'd left Lucille. "C'mon," he muttered to Georgie as he nodded toward the direction of the front door. "We got 'em!" Rick called out for Gabriel's and Aaron's benefit.
The pastor didn't waste a moment in joining the couple at the front door. "Where were they?"
"Tucked away inside a floor vent."
Aaron was moments behind coming up the stairs from the garage and eyeing the black pouch. "Are those the guns? You found 'em?"
Rick nodded and the four of them headed outside, down the stairs. Once he reached the brick sidewalk, Rick slowed his pace down when he saw four Saviors standing several feet away, in front of Enid, and it was clear she was uncomfortable. Carl was there, too, which raised the question of who had Judith.
"Balloons? You going to a party, little girl?" One of the four Saviors was asking Enid.
"Can I keep them, please?" Enid seemed to be equal parts nervous and aggravated, and rightfully so. "It's just…let me keep them."
Gripping a handful of green balloons in his right hand, the Savior stepped closer to Enid. "Say please again, little girl."
"Please."
The Savior ran a finger across her cheek, causing her to look temporarily away.
Georgie tensed, her fists clenching at her sides; wishing for a way any of them to come to Enid's defense without getting any of their people hurt or killed. After all, Negan had proved that any sort of retaliation in defense of anyone was met with serious consequences. At her side, Georgie sensed Rick take half a step forward. Sensing he was about to intervene, but seeing how calm and collected the teen girl appeared, Georgie quickly grabbed Rick's wrist and gave it a squeeze; silently telling him to stand down.
It wasn't her hand hold that normally did the trick for him, but it centered him just the same.
"Yeah. One more time," The Savior remarked, chuckling.
"Please," Enid replied, more sharply this time.
In response, the Savior opened his fist and let the green balloons fall to the ground like crushed flower petals before pointing a finger in her face. "Be careful, little girl."
Angrily, Carl turned around and eyed his father. The message was clear that he wanted his father to do something, but there was nothing Rick could really do at the moment.
He was between a rock and a hard place.
Damned if he did and damned if he didn't.
"They'll be gone soon," Rick assured his son, even though he knew his son didn't exactly find comfort in that.
Sure, the Saviors would be gone soon but, before they knew it, they'd be back again.
And again.
And again.
Walking over toward the back of a supply truck which was still open, Rick found Negan standing there with Olivia and a few more Saviors, along with Daryl off to the side, wearing an exceptionally dirty pair of sweatpants and matching sweatshirt with a red 'A' spray-painted on it. It looked like he hadn't bathed in years, and that was saying something considering this was Daryl; someone who seemed to avoid baths much like a cat.
"What you got for me, Rick?" Negan asked as Georgie, Gabriel and Aaron followed after the former sheriff's deputy. As Rick handed over the black pouch, Negan looked inside and chuckled happily. "Well, would you look at that? They were here after all. Funny how a little 'Holy shit! Somebody's gonna die!' lights a fucking fire under everybody's ass!"
As Olivia whimpered, brushing some hair from her face, Georgie felt the sudden urge to go over to her and hug her; to console her over almost getting killed over someone missing guns. The poor woman was clearly not having the best day ever, not that anyone of them really were, but especially Olivia. Georgie made a mental note to check on her later, after the Saviors got the hell out.
Negan sighed, casting a glance at Olivia. "So, tell me, Rick: which one of your fine folks almost cost Olivia the rest of her days?"
"It doesn't matter anymore—"
"—No, it matters," Negan interrupted, handing off the pouch with the guns off to Dwight. "See, you need to get everybody on board. Everybody. Or…we just go right back to square one."
After Dwight set the pouch inside the truck, he pulled the door down as it rattled and slammed shut.
With a look around, Negan raised his hand, gave it a whirl and whistled. All his men—and a few women in his "employ"—began to wrap everything up, really lickety-split, like a well-oiled machine.
As the trucks were closed up, they began rolling out.
"Walk with me, Rick," Negan commanded in a gentle, polite manner.
Clenching his jaw, Rick obliged the asshole and began to walk side by side with him down the brick sidewalk while both Saviors and a few of Rick's people followed after. The entire jaunt toward the main gate was in awkward silence, but Negan seemed to find nothing awkward about it as he walked with his hands clasped behind his back, whistled a happy tune and practically had a boyish skip in his step.
As they walked passed the infirmary, several Alexandrians watched nervously from their porches or from behind the curtains in their homes.
The entire time, Rick began to walk slower so that he was no longer in step with Negan and either Negan didn't notice Rick was no longer beside him or he just didn't care. In fact, soon, Negan's own people were surrounding him, leaving Rick and Rick's people at the tail end as the last of the truck left the main gate.
Two trucks stopped just inside the gate, idling, as a rusty white van, followed by one of Alexandria's rusty cars came in through the open gate and came to a complete stop along the wall.
"Hell of a place you got here, Rick," Negan remarked as Spencer hopped out of the van and Rosita out of the car. Turning with his back to the gate, he looked at Rick with a smirk.
"Give me a second," Rick said, though it was posed as a question.
Following Rick's gaze over his shoulder, Negan spotted Michonne in the window of the burnt out ruins of the house just outside the gate, with a deer over her shoulders, before she quickly ducked away out of sight. Smiling, Negan glanced back at Rick.
"No."
"Please, can you just…give me a second?"
Negan smiled, and then nodded.
Taking that as the yes he wanted, Rick took off outside the gate toward the burnt out ruins with Lucille still in his hand.
Rolling his tongue against his upper teeth and then sucking some air through them, Negan turned his attention to the other Alexandrians standing at what they felt a safer distance from him. He found amusement in this, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth and zeroing in on Georgie. Tilting his head to the side a little, a look of remembrance flashed over his face.
"Oh yeah," he muttered. "You're Red's sister or whatever, aren't you?"
Looking up at him, Georgie locked eyes and nodded. "Yeah, he was my brother."
Negan's smile faded considerably, but not in a way that he was mad. In fact he seemed almost sympathetic as he took a few steps closer to her. "I'm terribly sorry about wasting your flesh and blood like that, and getting his flesh and blood on you, if I remember correctly."
"You did," Georgie assured, clenching her jaw to keep it from quivering.
"I bet when you two were growing up you never thought that would happen to him. In the old world, a Guy like him would've probably died of a heart attack, yelling at a Redskins game on TV some Sunday afternoon, huh?" Negan shrugged. "Time's change."
When Georgie made no comment, Negan narrowed his eyes at her and took another step forward, and Georgie was feeling too nervous to move away. She did look away, though; focusing on an unimportant spot of pavement as he lifted a hand to her chin and held it in place. Georgie began to tense up as he seemed to be studying her face, as if scrutinizing every detail and was about to realize Georgie wasn't actually related to Abraham as she welcomingly claimed.
"You ever see the movie 'Deliverance'? The one with Jon Voight and Burt Reynolds?" Squeezing her cheeks together, he gently forced her lips to pucker. "You sure got a purty mouth," he added with an exaggerated Southern accent.
Feeling disgusted, Georgie could almost see Jake there again, and how he treated her once they found each other here in Alexandria. She remembered how he'd changed and how she hated the way she became an idiot damsel in distress because of him. It made her angry and she never wanted to be that. So, calling on a small fraction of her inner fire, Georgie yanked her head back, out of Negan's grasp, and half expected him to get angry at her show of defiance.
Instead, he chuckled. "I'm gonna call you Red now, and not because you're a redhead like your very dead brother," he spoke quietly. "Because you're red hot like fire." He chuckled at his own comment and clucked his tongue again. "Seriously. You get tired of this place, you are more than welcome to stay with me. I will personally see to making sure you're taken very good care of."
"I'm happy here."
Negan shrugged, as Michonne came stalking toward the main gate with the deer over her shoulders and Rick not far behind her. "Well, the offer still stands if you ever change your mind, Red." With a wink and a smile at Georgie, he spun around on the heels of his boots and came face to face with Michonne and the deer. "Look at this!"
"I thought she was scavenging," Rick spoke as he a brief glance over at Georgie; having noticed the tail end of some interaction between her and Negan which he found disconcerting. He was carrying the Michonne's rifle that Georgie had seen her remove from the fireplace and handed it willingly over to Negan. "She was hunting. This one never came inside. We kept it near the line."
Accepting the rifle, Negan gave it a quick look and smiled at Rick. "Look at this. This is something to build a relationship on. Good for you, Rick. This is readin' the room and gettin' the message. I've said it before, I'm gonna say it again. You sir…are special."
Rick dipped his head. "Now that you know we can follow your rules—"
"Yes?"
"—I'd like to ask you if Daryl can say?" he inquired hopefully, looking back up.
"Not happenin'." Off Rick's faintly broken reaction, he added, "You know what? I don't know. Maybe Daryl can plead his case. Maybe Daryl can sway me." Both Negan and Rick looked over at Daryl, who kept his head down and remained silent as the grave; looking very much like a wild animal that had been broken and domesticated. "Daryl?" When no response still came, Negan chuckled and turned his attention back at Rick while smiling. "Well, you tried. Now what you gotta do is get over that tall wall of yours and try harder out there. Earn for me. Because we're coming back soon, and when we do you better have something interesting for us, or Lucille—she's gonna have her way. I want you to hear that again. If you don't have something interesting for us, somebody's gonna die. And no more magic guns." Turning his attention away from Rick, he called out, "Arat! Grab that deer. It's getting late. Let's go home."
With the mother of all scowls, Michonne dropped the deer carcass to the ground with a careless thud and immediately stalked off without a single look back at Negan, or even Rick. She was none too happy, and it seemed to entail more than just losing the deer and the Saviors being there. Whatever Rick had said to her in that burnt out house hadn't done anything to lighten her mood.
"Man, I love a gal that buys me dinner and doesn't expect me to put out," Negan quipped leaning in toward Rick as he spoke.
Rick just stared after Michonne for a few moments, his brow knitting together with the beginnings of his own tension headache before shifting his gaze to Georgie; hoping to find calm by looking in her eyes.
"Rosita!" Dwight called out, rolling his 'r' as he patted Daryl's bike she and Spencer had brought back. "Got a little something for you." Removing something from his back pocket, he tossed it over to Rosita, revealing it was just her hat that she normally wore. "That's all you're getting back. Took all your guns, most of your beds. I hope you find a place to lay your pretty little head." With a chuckle, he climbed onto the bike. "Find anything else out there?"
"Just your dead friends," Rosita replied.
Georgie had never admired the younger woman more for her balls.
Turning the bike on, Dwight revved the engine and rode it around so that it was now facing toward the gate as he brought it up alongside Daryl and let it idle. "You can have it back. Just say the word."
When no words came from Daryl, Dwight shrugged it off and sped out of Alexandria without a second thought. Rick stepped closer toward his best friend while giving his attention to Negan again.
"So, nobody died," Negan remarked. "And you know what I think? I think you and I, we refined our understanding. Let me ask you something, Rick. Do you want me to go?"
After only seconds of consideration, Rick nodded. "I think that'd be good."
"Then just say those two magical words."
Swallowing back his pride, Rick took half a step forward and lowered his voice. "Thank you."
'Fuck you' is more like it, Georgie thought.
Negan chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous. Thank you," he remarked with a grin as the sound of a walker growled in the distance. "Another one. You need our help. Davey, hand me that candlestick over there. You know what I think, Rick? I think we're both gonna come out of this winners." Taking the bulky, black candlestick one of his Saviors handed him, Negan turned back toward the approaching walker. "Watch my form!" Raising his arms as his gripped the candlestick in both hands, he brought the butt of it down against the front of the walker's skull with the all too familiar sound of rotting brain, blood and bone crunching and gushing together just before the body dropped to the ground. "Ahh. Yep. Win-win." Negan turned back toward Rick; still smiling as he tossed the bloodied candlestick to the ground. "Clean that up for next time. Let's move out!" As he began to walk toward a delivery style truck, the rest of his Saviors began to follow suit and either head for the remaining trucks still within the walls, but then Negan stopped. "Oh, wait," he chuckled, turning back around and staring at the back of Rick's head. "How careless of me. You didn't think I was gonna leave Lucille, did you? I mean, after what she did, why would you want her? Thank you for being so accommodating, friend."
Rick just stood there, staring forward at the pavement as he felt like he was about to break down.
Negan reached across Rick's front and grabbed Lucille, but stayed leaned in like that to whisper in his ear. "In case you haven't caught on, I just slipped my dick down your throat and you thanked me for it."
Without another word, chuckle or smile, Negan stepped away and climbed into the delivery truck, giving it two bangs so the driver knew head out and so the other trucks would follow. As it lurched forward and drove off, it ran over the body of the walker Negan had just killed and still, Rick just remained standing there, staring out after the trucks as they left.
Rick watched at the truck carrying Daryl began to fade away, with Daryl finally looking back at him and Rick felt like a piece of him was dying again; having to watch his best friend leave.
Before turning around to stare back inside Alexandria, he looked up at the bottom of their entrance sign.
MERCY FOR THE LOST. VENGEANCE FOR THE PLUNDERERS.
What a bunch of horse shit that is now, he thought to himself.
Stepping fully inside, he pulled both gates closed. Everyone else had more or less retreated to their homes, aside from Spencer and Rosita who were closing up the back doors to the van Spencer had driven back in. And Georgie. She was waiting for him in the same spot where Negan had approached her.
Rick walked right up to her and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. Neither said a word. He just held her hand and then looked at her face as she brought her gaze up to his, squinting from the sunlight in her eyes. He was silently asking if she was okay, and she shrugged in response. With a nod, he accepted that for now and released her hand.
"I'll be right behind you," he muttered, gesturing up the street with a second nod, indicating to her heading home.
After a pause, Georgie obliged him and turned to walk slowly up the road while Rick walked around the front of the van.
"Spencer," he called out as he approached the younger man. "We took the guns you had in your house. The Saviors wanted ours, all of them. There were two missing from the inventory. They were gonna kill Olivia. Spencer."
"You went into my house?"
"They were gonna kill Olivia," Rick repeated, flabbergasted that the thing Spencer seem most shaken up about wasn't the potential loss of an innocent life but instead a little breaking and entering. "Look, I'm not faulting you for having the guns. I did it myself. But the food and liquor?" Rick sighed. "That's 'cause you're small, Spencer. You're weak. You got lucky with the walls. You got lucky with us."
Rick turned around and began to walk away when Spencer called out.
"We should've made a deal with them when we could've." When Rick kept walking, that seemed to piss Spencer off. "Oh, yeah, we're so lucky. You've led us to the Promised Land! Isn't that right, Rick? Here we are! I guess Glenn and Abraham were lucky, too?"
Rick stopped walking.
Straw, meet camel's back.
Speaking low, but loud enough for his voice to reach Spencer's ears, Rick said, "You say anything like that to me again, I'll break your jaw, knock your teeth out. You understand? Say yes."
"Yes," Spencer replied.
Cocking his head to the right for a moment, Rick continued on up the road.
Back at home, Georgie had learned that Carl had passed Judith off to Eric, who had brought her home. He'd gone as far as to giving her a bottle, changing her into her footie pajamas and putting her down for a nap when she grew too tired to keep her head up. Carl hadn't come home yet. He was probably with Enid somewhere and Rick was okay with that. He knew his son was upset with him, just as he was upset with his son over the stunt he'd pulled in the Infirmary. It was something they'd have to discuss later, but for now…
Rick was kneeling on his bedroom floor where his bedframe and mattress used to be. The baby monitor was plugged in since its battery had died while they were out of the house and it was positioned against the wall where Rick had his and Georgie's pillows laid out while he was rolling out unzipped sleeping bags for padding for them to sleep on. It was a menial but necessary task and it gave him something else to focus on for the time being.
Sensing someone in the doorway, he expected it to be Georgie, but found it was instead Michonne.
"They took our mattresses. Most of them."
After a moment of silence, she stepped in the room; somewhere she never went so she took the opportunity to take a tentative look around. "That rifle was one of theirs from the outpost. They didn't have a list?"
Rick shook his head. "Unh-unh."
"Could've hidden more."
"Did you?"
Michonne sighed. "No." Turning around, she walked out of the room, but then stopped. Tensing up, she turned back into the room. "Everything we have, we got from fighting."
"I made the choice. There aren't enough of us. It's about numbers."
"There's the Hilltop."
"They'd still have the numbers," Rick repeated. "We play by their rules, and we get some kind of life."
"What kind of a life?" she barked, growing emotional.
Rick sighed. "You know, I had a friend. I don't talk about him. He was my partner. He got Lori and Carl to safety right after it all started," he began to open up. "I couldn't. I was in the hospital. I—I didn't know what was happenin'. My friend—his name was Shane. Well, him and Lori, they were together. They thought I was dead."
While Rick spoke, Georgie was walking up the stairs; quietly and slowly. She knew where he was going with this conversation with Michonne. It was a subject he had only finally talked to her about after her son had died, when she was grieving, during one of his attempts to get her to open up to him. He had asked her then to keep the information he'd told her to herself and she had kept that promise. Now she just stood there, unintentionally eavesdropping as he let Michonne in on his information, too.
"I know Judith isn't mine. I know it," Rick admitted, taking a deep breath. "I love her. She's my daughter. But she isn't mine. I had to accept that. I did. So I could keep her alive. I'll die before she does, and I hope that's a long time from now so I can raise her and protect her and teach her how to survive." Rick was staring up at Michonne, unfaltering in his gaze. "This is how we live now. I had to accept that, too, so I could keep everyone else alive."
"It's not your fault when people die," Michonne insisted.
"Not always, but sometimes—sometimes it is. You have to accept this — all of us do — or it won't work."
Leaning back against the doorframe, Michonne swallowed back her own pride. Any argument she'd had planned on having with him about her issues with all of what was going on, she suddenly felt guilty about now that she understood more of his motives and point of view on the matter. With a heavy sigh, she looked down and whispered, "I'm gonna try."
Rick looked down at the blanket he was trying to straighten out and nodded with appreciation, and then looked up when he noticed her slipping out of the bedroom and passing Georgie in the hall.
As Michonne took her leave, Georgie replaced her presence in the bedroom; stepping inside slowly and quietly as she knelt down across from Rick on the floor and picked up the other side of the blanket. In silence, she helped him straighten it out for them to use when they went to sleep that night. She placed the pillows less haphazardly at the top instead of where he'd more or less just tossed them and then they both just seemed to sit back on the heels of their feet, staring at the blanket.
"What did he say to you, when I was talking to Michonne in the ruins?" Rick questioned, slowly bringing his gaze back up toward her.
"He remembered me from the clearing. Made some attempt to apologize for killing Abraham, still thinking he was my brother and I didn't discourage him of that," Georgie replied, maintaining her gaze downward. "Then he made a movie reference and asked if I wanted to live with him instead of here." Lifting her eyes, she saw Rick's knitted brow. "I told him no, obviously."
"What movie reference?"
"Deliverance."
Rick didn't seem to understand exactly what Negan could've been referencing.
Georgie sighed. "He said I had a 'purty' mouth."
Quite instinctively, Rick's nostrils flared with anger and is jaw clenched as he thought about that bastard trying to make a move on Georgie.
"Take my guns, take my candlesticks and my beds. I don't give a shit. They're material," Rick muttered, eyeing Georgie intently. "He can't ever have you. He can't take you." He shook his head, placing his hands on his thighs. "He's already taken enough people from me."
The tears that began to form along his eyelids stung and he wiped them quickly away, but Georgie had already seen them. Leaning forward, she crawled over the blankets to where he knelt and placed her hands on either side of his face and then dropped them so she could wrap her arms around his neck and hug him. Rick welcomed the gestured and returned it, wrapping his own arms around her back.
"We'll find a way to work through this. We'll make this work for us somehow," Georgie whispered. "We'll bide our time and find a way to somehow fight back. Not today, not tomorrow, but it'll happen."
Rick wrapped his arms tighter around her. "I hope so."
Georgie nuzzled her nose against Rick's neck. "I know so."