Author's Note: Nothing much to say here other than ENJOY! And, woo hoo—TWD returns next week! As always, please R&R!
xoxo —Holly
"We draw our strength from the very despair in which we have been forced to live. We shall endure." — Cesar Chavez
Standing at the kitchen sink, Georgie was mindlessly washing the out the glasses Negan and Carl had drank their lemonade from while the pitcher was not sitting in the fridge to keep cool. The sound of the water running was like white noise to her as she stared out the window and at the side of the house next door; all the while the dread in her stomach felt like it was eating her alive. All she could think about at the moment was how Negan was upstairs in her and Rick's bathroom, with both children, because he apparently wanted to teach Carl how to shave. While he was doing that, he wanted Georgie to clean up the downstairs a bit and then go get ingredients for making spaghetti. So, she had straightened the pillows on the couch, emptied her discard coffee cup from earlier that had been sitting on the dining table and cleaned that along with the other glasses. While she dried those glasses and set them aside to likely be used later, Georgie gave a look around the kitchen one last time and then walked toward the front door.
The anxiousness she was feeling seemed to get worse as she stepped out of the house; knowing she was forced to leave the kids behind with Negan again.
She wished they had everything they'd need for spaghetti already in the house, but such was not the case, unfortunately. Georgie wasn't even sure if the pantry would have what was needed. She might have to go door to door. Just outside the house, two Saviors stood as lookout to make sure not just anyone approached the house with their beloved dictator inside. The female, Arat, Georgie had remembered from the day before.
Passing Arat, Georgie ignored her and kept her gaze forward with her arms down at her sides and her fists balled tight. Before she even made it to the Pantry, Tara was coming out of the Infirmary where she lived now and sidled up next to Georgie with a look of concern on her face.
"Hey, what's going on?"
"Negan is teaching Carl how to shave in my bathroom and he wants to cook spaghetti for dinner, but we don't have the supplies and I think I might freak out in a minute."
Placing an arm around Georgie's shoulders, Tara pulled her in for a side hug. "I'll help."
"No, that's okay," Georgie insisted. "I got this."
"Are you sure?"
"I just want to get this shit and get back to the house. I don't like leaving the kids alone with only him there."
"Why don't you just go home? I'll go to the Pantry for you and find the stuff to make spaghetti and then I'll bring it to you, okay?"
Georgie hesitated. "I don't know how he'll react to me coming back empty-handed."
"Well, you won't be. Not really, anyway. Tell him you delegated. Or, tell him the truth; that I offered to help." Moving to stand in front of Georgie, she gripped her hands and gave a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be okay. Go on. Go be there for your kids."
"They're not mine," Georgie said, Carl's words still in her head, even if he hadn't meant to say it, about her not being his mother, and then with Negan easily deducing she wasn't the mother of Judith. With Rick gone right now, it made those details about her relationship to his kids more apparent.
"Those two are every bit your kids. Don't think otherwise." Leaning in and giving Georgie a comforting hug, she whispered, "Go home."
After another moment of hesitation, Georgie caved against Tara's offer and retreated back down the road to her house. Again, she avoided looking at either Arat or the other Savior standing guard and focused on what she'd say if and when Negan demanded where the supplies were. However, when she got inside, Negan didn't even seem to notice the lack of supplies when she walked through the front door and found him putting on one of the kitchen aprons and was instructing Carl to do the same with the second apron.
"Welcome home, honey. How was the office?" Negan inquired, turning his attention to her with a charming smile and then pointed between him and her. "See what I did there? I'm playing house."
Georgie nodded and then looked over at Carl while wondering where Judith was, and then noticing the toddler sitting in her high chair at the dining table with nothing but her own, little hands to occupy her. And, boy, did she look bored.
"Where's the noodles, the stuff for the sauce?" he finally asked, but he didn't seem angry. So, there was that silver lining.
"I went looking and decided to delegate," she replied, repeating what Tara had told her to say. But then she needed to expand on it. "I figured it'd be better to have extra hands looking for the stuff and bringing it here. The Pantry might not have everything we need, but other residents might have it in their kitchens. Instead of me wasting your time knocking on doors by myself—"
"—you delegated." Negan winked at her. "I respect that." Turning around, he began opening cupboards and pulling out bowls and pots and utensils he'd need, and setting it all down on either the counter or the island. "What did you do before all this, Georgie, because there is an air of authority to you? I mean, you're good with kids. You're looking after Judith here, after all. Maybe a teacher, though I'm thinking maybe something higher up on the food chain, like a principal."
"I was a mother."
Negan paused and looked at her squarely in the eye. Then he looked at the fridge where two pictures were stuck with magnets. "Wait—are these two yours? The pictures here?"
Those pictures Georgie had kept with her, in her bra, for so long after leaving her house in Calhoun behind and had brought with her into the blue house, she had brought to this house and put the pictures on display, on the fridge, so she saw their faces every day as she came and went from the house. Both of their smiling faces in their respective photographs gave her something perfect and good to remember from the old world and carry with her always in the new world.
"Yes," Georgie replied. "They were mine."
"I take it they're gone now."
"They are."
"I won't bother asking how it happened. That would just be rude to make a mother relive that grief."
"It's not like I can forget it," Georgie shrugged.
"That's true." He didn't press her for that information, as he said he wouldn't. Instead, he turned his attention back to Carl as he began to dictate how they were gonna make rolls from scratch; his mother's recipe, apparently.
It was hard to believe Negan ever had a mother.
"Is…is there anything you need me to do?" Georgie asked, just standing there awkwardly in front of the door.
"We menfolk have it all taken care of here in the kitchen. Just do what you do best, and take care of Judith, and answer the door when our supplies arrive."
Georgie didn't hesitate then; going immediately up to Judith and lifting her out of the high chair and into her arms instead. The simple act of holding the little girl did wonders in calming her nerves quite a bit. She kissed the top of Judith's head and found solace in the way she leaned eagerly against her. Walking with her over to the couch, she sat down while listening to Negan droning on about how delicious fresh rolls would taste and how he could wait to get started on making the sauce because "that was the best part."
Eventually, the knock on the door came and Georgie was back up on her feet at a moment's notice. She cast a brief glance over at Negan and Carl, and saw Negan look back at her as he waited to see her answer the door.
Shifting Judith onto her hip, Georgie stepped outside onto the porch and found Olivia standing there rather than Tara, who she'd been expecting.
"I wanted to bring this stuff, personally," Olivia remarked, her eyes flitting nervously toward the door; knowing Negan was just inside. "You wouldn't have found this stuff anywhere in view on the Pantry shelves. I keep more things stored away to prevent everyone from taking too much all at once. If they see very little out, they won't be tempted to take more than they need." In her hands was a basket filled with a box of spaghetti noodles, two jars of Prego Traditional Italian Sauce, a can of mushrooms, along with an onion, some tomatoes, a green pepper, and fresh parsley. "I thought that some of the vegetables and herbs we got from the Hilltop might be a nice touch."
Georgie hadn't been expecting that much and felt guilty about what she was going to say next. "I hate to ask this of you, but could you carry it inside for me? That basket looks like it requires two hands and I already have one full with Judith here."
Olivia stared back with a look of subtle fear and hesitated to give an answer.
"If it helps any," Georgie lowered her voice. "I slapped him earlier and lived to tell the tale."
"You did?" Olivia's face practically lit up with joy. "How was it?"
"Scary, but also incredibly satisfying."
"And he didn't hit you back or anything?"
Georgie shook her head. "I thought he might, or worse. But he didn't. I actually think he enjoyed it. He's probably the type that's into S&M."
Olivia scrunched up her nose. "Okay. I'll just try and picture you slapping him over and over."
Watching as the other woman inhaled a deep breath, Georgie opened the door and let Olivia in.
"Olivia!" Negan greeted immediately. "Long time, no see. How's that inventory list doing? I bet a lot easier to take care of without all those pesky guns you have to keep track of, am I right?"
Georgie looked and saw the way Olivia began to clam up. Her lips pursed together and her chin trembled somewhat, like she was a child forced to look upon the monster under their bed.
"Y-yeah."
Slapping his hands together, Negan walked out from around the island. "So what have we got?" he wondered as he approached both women and looked down into the basket. Lifting up one of the tomatoes, he tossed it into the air and caught it. Leaning closer to Olivia's face, he grinned. "Fresh vegetables? Very good. I was expecting a box of noodles and a can of tomato paste. This is going above and beyond, and for that, I'm extending a dinner invitation to you. And you might also consider it a formal apology for the way I scared the every living fuck out of you yesterday when I threatened to kill you."
As if he'd just made a fantastic joke, Negan chuckled and took the basket from Olivia's hands; leaving her stand there awkwardly while he returned over to the island with Carl.
"I really sh—" Olivia began to speak.
"Really," Negan stressed. "Stay." The charming smile he added at the end was like giving someone whiplash. His tone could be so threatening, but his smile was sunshine and butterflies. It certainly kept you on your toes.
Olivia looked at Georgie, who looked back guiltily; feeling terrible for asking Olivia to come in at all. She could've spared her being forced to endure Negan like this. But, a part of Georgie was happy to have Olivia there.
At least now she had someone else at her side right now.
When the meal was finished cooking, Negan had gone to take a seat at the head of the table with his back to the kitchen. From there he dictated to Carl to set the table with placemats, plates, cups, napkins and silverware. Olivia had taken over holding Judith from Georgie while Georgie went about getting the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and adding more water and mix to top it off. A plastic purple divided plate was even set up on the high chair for Judith.
At the table, there were four place settings; not including Judith. As Carl was reaching across to set the pairings of knives and forks beside the plates opposite him, Negan began to click his tongue.
"We're gonna need another setting."
With a roll of his only eye, Carl walked off toward the kitchen to get what he needed for this fifth setting, while Georgie walked over toward the table with the pitcher of lemonade. Ignoring the ache in her right thigh, she set the pitcher down on the table and watched as Olivia brought Judith over and set her down into her high chair. When Negan raised his glass and looked expectantly at Georgie, she sighed and lifted the pitcher back up and filled his glass with lemonade.
The entire time, he just smiled and chuckled to himself.
The fifth setting was placed at the opposite end of the table from Negan and that's where Georgie chose to sit so that she was closer to Judith to cut up her food for her, while Carl sat to the right of his sister, but also to the left of Negan. Olivia, unsurprisingly, opted to sit to the left of Georgie so that she could be are far down the table away from Negan as possible, which left the place setting to Negan's right empty.
The last thing was the platter of spaghetti that Carl carried over to the table and sat down in the center next to the basket of fresh rolls Georgie brought after filling everyone else's glasses with lemonade.
As they each sat down, they did so in silence.
Painfully, awkward silence.
Georgie wondered if Negan was waiting for someone to say grace.
He seemed to be staring over her head, above the windows at her back, with his lips pursed and his jaws clenched as he just sat there; waiting for something while tapping his fingers quietly upon the table. But no one dared say a word. No one was about to start eating until he did or said to.
Looking around the table at each person, Negan sighed. "I'm not waiting for you dad anymore," he said, looking to Carl. "I don't know where the fuck he is, but Lucille—" he lifted the bat from where it'd been at his side and set it in the empty chair, "—is hungry."
Seriously? He was seriously expecting Rick to just show up in time for a dinner he didn't know was being prepared, by a man he didn't even know was in his home with his children?
Georgie looked across the table at Negan and watched him shake out his napkin and tuck it into the collar of his white shirt so he didn't stain it with sauce while he ate.
"Carl, pass the rolls." When the teen hesitated, Negan looked at him and smiled. "Please."
The meal, despite the awkwardness, really was delicious. Negan's only redeeming factor, in Georgie's eyes, was that he was a pretty damn good cook. Growing up, she had loved her mom's spaghetti and hated anyone else's. Even once she was married to Jake with her own family, her own spaghetti couldn't hold a candle to her mom's. Now there was Negan's and it definitely stood a fighting chance against how she remembered her mom's. Without butter, the rolls were bland, but the food was still good and even Judith seemed content with the bits of spaghetti that Georgie had cut up for her.
When he was finished eating, Negan had left the table for the others to clean up when Spencer's voice began wafting inside from the open front door.
"No."
"I just want to talk to him."
"I said 'no'."
Stepping out onto the porch, Negan held tightly onto Lucille with one hand while the other held his glass of lemonade. "Don't be an asshole, Arat. Let the man pass."
From inside the house, Georgie could hear footsteps up the stairs.
"Oh, crap. Is that for me?"
"We haven't officially met. I'm Spencer Monroe," Spencer's voice floated on the air and sounding much closer now. "Hi."
Georgie rolled her eyes, choosing to pay little mind to the conversation about to be held outside as she cast a glance over at Carl. "Take your sister out of her high chair and keep her busy while I clean up, okay?"
"I'll help you clean up," Carl asserted.
"And I appreciate that, but you had to endure making the meal with him," she spoke quietly. "I can endure cleaning it all up. Just keep your sister busy, and later we're gonna have a talk."
The look he gave her was a mix of guilt and amusement, while the look she gave him was a very motherly "go do as I say or I'll beat your ass" look. Not risking a possible tanned hide, Carl lifted Judith up into his arms and took her upstairs with the goal of cleaning her face and hands from eating and getting some toys for her to play with and then bring them downstairs so he didn't let Negan out of his sight for too long.
"I'll help you," Olivia offered, grabbing some plates up off the table and carrying them over to the sink.
"Thank you, but you don't have to," Georgie replied, making sure to keep her voice low for only Olivia to hear. "You've been stuck here long enough with him, and then yesterday on top of it. You can go home if you want."
"You shouldn't have to be here alone like this with him. Especially with the kids." Olivia attempted a smile. "I can endure this."
Placing the dishes into the sink, Georgie turned and embraced Olivia without warning. "I'm sorry we have to endure any of this."
Olivia took a moment to realize she was being hugged, but responded readily to the gesture and patted Georgie's back. "It's not something you need to apologize for. This was all going to happen sooner or later." As both women parted, Olivia shrugged. "If you, Rick and the others had never showed up, we would've probably never been prepared for the world outside."
Georgie sighed. "Lot of good it's done. We helped teach you to defend yourselves against people like the Saviors only to become oppressed by them in the end."
With a shake of her head, Olivia smiled. "It's not the end. As scary as it is right now, I think there's still hope to come out of the other side of this." She shifted her gaze toward the double doors that led out onto the porch where they could both see Negan sitting with Spencer, and enjoying what looked to be a bottle of some kind of liquor together. "Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not be unpunished: but the seed of the righteous shall be delivered." She brought her gaze back to Georgie who was looking at her with an inquisitive eye. "Proverbs 11:21. I read a lot of everything in my downtime."
Georgie was never religious, but she sure did enjoy that Bible passage. With a nod, she remarked, "Even Hitler got his in the end."
"Exactly," Olivia agreed. "And Negan will get his."
Before long a crowd was gathering outside the house; a mix of Saviors brandishing weapons and Alexandrians brandishing their curiosity. The muted sounds of wood scuffing against pavement is what caught Georgie's attention as she walked over to the front door and pulled it open. Olivia was still at the sink but Carl was back from downstairs with Judith in his arms. Taking the child from his arms, Georgie relieved him of the task she'd given him, of keeping his sister busy, while she stepped out onto the porch and watched as a pool table from the garage across the street was being carried out into the middle of said street.
Negan was once again donning his leather jacket and handling a pool cue instead of Lucille, which he had propped up against the pool table. Across the table from him was Spencer; both men about to play together.
"What kind of Bizarro World are we in?" Georgie muttered.
Carl looked up at her with a small smirk.
"Fraternizing with the enemy," she continued to say, keeping her voice to a whisper.
As Olivia stepped outside and joined them on the porch, she stood there to the left of Georgie and seemed just as perplexed and curious about the pool game as everyone else. "Seriously?" she questioned. "Pool?"
Georgie looked at her and shrugged. "At least we can never say there's a dull moment around here."
"I'd give anything for dull again."
"I get what you're trying to do here, what you're trying to build," Spencer spoke, as Negan moved around to the side of the table to take a shot into a corner pocket, which he succeeded in. "I'm not saying I agree with your methods, but I get it. You're building a network. You're making people contribute for the greater good. It makes sense. But you should know that Rick Grimes has a history of not working well with others."
Georgie sneered. Traitor, she thought.
Negan cut in front of Spencer and knocked another ball in. "Is that so?"
"Rick wasn't the original leader here. My mom was. She was doing a really good job of it," Spencer continued to speak, adding chalk to the end of his cue. "Then she died, not long after Rick showed up — same with my brother, same with my dad."
Standing there, swirling around the contents of the alcohol in his glass, Negan leaned upon his own cue as he stared back at Spencer. "So, everything was peachy here for — what — years? And then Rick shows up, and suddenly, you're an orphan? That is the saddest story I've ever heard. Good thing for you he's not in charge anymore."
Spencer leaned down and looked up before taking his shot. "Doesn't matter. His ego's out of control. He'll find a way to screw things up, to try and do things his way, to take over. That's what he did with my mom. That's what he'll do again."
Upon Spencer taking his shot, Negan sidled up to him, taking a sip of his drink. "What exactly are you proposing be done about that?"
"I am my mother's son," Spencer responded, standing up straight. "I can be the leader she was. That's what this place needs. That's what you need."
"So I should put you in charge. That's what you're saying?"
"We'd be much better off."
Both men began to move around the table, with each taking another shot apiece while everyone else still looked on, watching the game and listening to the conversation. Georgie held Judith tight in her arms, careful not to squeeze the girl's side too much out of the anger she was feeling over Spencer daring to go behind Rick's back like this. Carl seemed a bit pissed, too, judging by the way he was gripping onto the white, wooden railing.
"You know, I'm thinking, Spencer," Negan spoke. "I'm thinking how Rick threatened to kill me, how he clearly hates my guts. But he is out there, right now, gathering shit for me to make sure I don't hurt any of the fine people that live here. He is swallowing his hate and getting shit done. That takes guts." Negan leaned forward and sunk a blue ball, along with the cue ball into a corner pocket. Setting the down his pool stick, he sauntered over to Spencer with his usual swagger. "And then there's you: the guy who waited for Rick to be gone so he could sneak over and talk to me, to get me to do his dirty work, so he could take Rick's place. So I got to ask — if you wanna take over, why not just kill Rick yourself and just take over?"
"What? No, no. I didn't—I don't—" Spencer began to stutter.
"You know what I'm thinking? 'Cause I have a guess." He leaned in and whispered, "Because you have no guts."
Without warning, Negan pulled out a knife and stabbed Spencer deeply in the stomach and then sliced just as deeply to the right. Spencer gasped and hunched forward in sheer agony as he looked down and his blood and intestines began to tumble out of his body. He dropped to his knees, holding his own intestines in his hand; the realization that he was dying striking him like a bolt of lightning.
Everyone else had practically jumped out of their skin and gasped as well at the brutal attack. Not one person had been expecting something like that to happen.
As Spencer fell onto his side, spitting up blood, Negan just stared down at him without a care in the world. "Oh, how embarrassing. There they are. They were inside you the whole time. You did have guts! I've never been so wrong in my whole life!" He turned around to look upon the faces staring back at him — his audience — with Spencer's blood splattered on his face and down the front of his crisp, white shirt. With a grin, he looked up toward the house, at Georgie and Carl; not Olivia so much. He didn't truly give a rat's ass about her. Walking around the pool table, he lifted up Lucille and suddenly seemed less jovial. "Now, someone oughta get up here and clean this mess up." Staring back at everyone, seeing no one move, he raised Lucille up and pointed it around. "Oh. Does anyone want to finish the game? C'mon. Anybody? Anybody? C'mon. I was winning."
In the blink of an eye, Rosita pulled a gun out from behind her back, aimed it at Negan and pulled the trigger; all without the least bit of hesitation.
Georgie's heart leapt into her throat and she unconsciously took a step back from the railing and clutched tighter at Judith. While the sound of the gunshot echoed and stung at the ears, there was a brief moment of joy that she felt when she thought Negan was shot and killed.
But, that was not to be the case.
Instead, the bullet simply lodged itself into Lucille, sending Negan into a rage as he looked upon it. "Fuck! What the Fuck?!"
Arat swatted Rosita's arm, knocking the gun out of her hand and then shoved Rosita back onto the ground where she lay pinned with a knife to her throat as Negan scrambled over to her with fire in his eyes and venom in his voice.
"Fuck! You just—you tried to fuckin' kill me?!" He stomped around and then turned back toward Rosita with the bat held high as if he was gonna bring it down on Rosita's skull. "You shot Lucille!"
"She got in the way," Rosita sneered.
Each and every present Alexandrian felt as if their hearts were gonna beat right out of their chests, preparing themselves to see Rosita killed next. Negan seemed to dial his rage back a few notches, but he still seethed as he bent down and picked up the bullet casing.
"What is this? What the fuck is this? This little bad boy made from scratch? Look at those crimps. This was homemade," he deduced, his voice lowering as he kept his eyes trained on Rosita. "You may be fuckin' stupid, darlin', but you showed some real ingenuity here. Arat, move that knife up out on that girl's face." Leaning down, getting close to her, he all but growled at her as he continued to speak. "Lucille's beautiful, smooth surface is never gonna look the same, so why the fuck should yours?!" he shouted, standing back upright. "Unless…unless you tell me who the fuck made this."
"It was me. I made it," she insisted.
"You see, now I just think you're lying. And you lying to me now?! Such a fuckin' shame. Arat's gonna have to cut up that pretty face. One more try."
"It was me," Rosita replied, leaning up into the blade, causing it to cut into the skin of her cheek.
"Oh! You are such a fuckin' badass!" Negan chuckled; smiling like it was Christmas morning. "Fine. Have it your way," he remarked. "Arat. Kill somebody."
Fear surged through everyone, especially Rosita as she screamed.
"No! It was me! No!"
Sitting up, back away from Rosita, Arat lowered her knife and grabbed for her gun. Without a moment's notice, she spun around toward Georgie, Carl and Olivia and pulled the trigger.
Georgie closed her eyes and continued holding onto Judith, as the faces of her children flashed in front of her eyes as she prepared to meet see them again on the other side. But then there was a thud at her left and Carl cried out. Opening her eyes back up, Georgie turned to see Olivia flat on her back with a bullet hole through the right side of her face. Carl dropped down to his knees and hovered over Olivia; looking like he wanted to touch her to feel for a pulse. As if she would someone still be alive.
With the realization that Olivia was very much dead, Carl whipped his head up and stared at Georgie who was trying to console a very startled Judith.
"Is Judy okay?" was the first thing out of his mouth.
Georgie nodded. "Just scared. Are you?" she asked, reaching her hand toward him and pulling him up and over to her.
Carl just shrugged as he and Georgie both turned to see Rick approaching; helping a very battered and bloodied Aaron walk. Tobin tried running toward the house, probably to check on Olivia but a Savior pushed him back and kept him in place with a gun pointed at his forehead. Rick handed Aaron off to Eric and stormed over to Negan.
"We had an agreement."
"Rick!" Negan greeted hoarsely. "Look, everybody, it's Rick! Ah, your people are making me lose my fuckin' voice doin' all this yelling."
Rick looked around, seeing Rosita on the ground with a cut to her face and then seeing Spencer, dead and disemboweled on the ground in a pool of literal blood and guts beside the pool table. He had been gone barely twenty-four hours and his world was going to hell in a handbasket. Again.
Four days after Glenn and Abraham—when would it stop?
"Rick…how about a 'thank you'?" Negan urged, calmly. "I mean, look, I know we started this relationship with me beating the holy fuck out of your friends, and because of that, we're never gonna sit around and braid each other's hair or share our deepest, darkest secrets, but how about a little credit? I just bent over backwards to show you how reasonable I am. Your kid—he hid in one of my trucks and machine-gunned a bunch of my men down, and I brought him home, safe and sound."
Rick turned around and practically glared at Carl, displacing his anger toward Negan toward his own son for a few moments.
"And I fed him spaghetti," Negan continued, going on as if he'd just cure cancer and should be given a prize. "Another one of your people — well, he wanted me to kill you and put him in charge. I took him the fuck out…for you. And another one, here—" he gestured down at Rosita, "—she shot Lucille, trying to kill me just now, so I gave you one less mouth to feed. And by looking at her—" he pointed toward Olivia dead body on the porch, with Rick following to look, "—that mouth did some major damage. Now, personally, I wouldn't have picked her to be the one to go, but Arat—" Negan sighed, "—I don't know—didn't trust her."
Rick brought his gaze back to Negan; fighting every urge not to jump him and bite his throat out like he did to that Claimer months back on the road to Terminus. He was reining in his anger with everything he had; clenching his jaw and breathing heavily through his nose. Taking half a step forward, he held Negan's eye. "Your shit's waiting for you at the gate. Just go."
Negan smirked. "Sure thing, Rick — right after I find the guy or gal that made this bullet," he remarked, holding the casing up between him and Rick. "Arat?"
Turning to look over her shoulder, Arat spun and aimed her gun at Eric; causing Aaron to pull his boyfriend protectively closer while both men looked toward the gun with utter terror.
"It was me!" Tara cried out, taking a step forward.
"No, it wasn't," Eugene cried; his hands covering his face, which muffled his sniffling. As Negan stepped over toward him he lowered his hands and sniffled again. "It was me. It was only me."
"You?" Negan questioned, seeming a bit doubtful.
As if to offer proof, Eugene began to ramble off the bullet-making procedure, albeit nervously. "It required one spent casing, one four-holed turret reloader, powder, one funnel for the powder—"
"Shut up," Negan cut him off as he leaned in a placed a hand on his shoulder. "I believe you."
Eugene looked at Negan, then at one of the three Saviors holding their guns on him before looking down dejectedly, and still sniffling a little.
Stepping away with his eyes closed tight, Negan lifted Lucille up in front of him and drew in a deep breath. "Lucille, give me strength." With a heavy sigh, he turned toward Rick. "I'm gonna be relieving you of your bullet maker, Rick. That and whatever you left for me at the front gate. And however much you scavenged, it's not good fuckin' enough, because you're still in a serious, serious hole after today." Looking around at his lackeys, Negan bellowed, "Let's move out!"
"No! No, no! Please, just take me!" Rosita cried, watching as Eugene was being shoved forward. "No!"
Stepping closer to Rick to the point of serious personal space invasion, Negan whispered, "If shit like this happens the next time I come here, I'm gonna take more with than just some mullet-wearing schlub who can make bullets. I'll take your babysitter, Georgie. She's really something to look at, ain't she? Not to mention, she's really good with her hands." Biting his bottom lip, Negan chuckled and then lifted Lucille to rest the bat upon his shoulder. "I'll see you next time." With a turn on the heel of his shoes, he began to walk off without another word; just leaving Rick there with a million and one thoughts surging around his mind.
As Negan and the Saviors retreated up the road to leave, the Alexandrians that had been gathered there, stayed, looking either down at Rosita, who was so hunched forward on the ground, covering her head as she cried softly over Eugene being taken away, or they looked at Rick, who stood there, stock still with tears burning at his eyes while he shook slightly from a mix of fear, fury, guilt and misery.
Tara and Gabriel went to Rosita and helped her up to her feet, to bring her to the Infirmary where they could clean up the cut on her face for her, while the others either retreated to their homes or went to get sheets to wrap Olivia's and Spencer's bodies up and prepare to bury them in their community's cemetery.
"Carl, take Judith inside, please," Georgie spoke to the boy after a while.
Carl didn't hesitate, he took his sister into his arms, retreating away from Olivia's body and then slipped into the house where it was quiet and safe.
Holding onto the railing with one hand, Georgie looked over at Rick and watched as he turned toward Spencer, who had reanimated and was sitting up, growling and reaching for Rick. She watched the way Rick stepped forward and pulled out his knife; shoving it quickly and roughly into Spencer's skull to kill him for good. As he yanked the knife out and as Spencer's body slumped back to the ground, Rick stumbled back slightly and then looked at the large pool of blood running toward a storm drain. He looked down at his hand and the blood on the knife he held and then turned toward the house, where he slowly made eye contact with Georgie.
Delicately, she stepped around Olivia's body and walked to the edge of the stairs and he began to walk forward, too; heading for the porch. As reached the bottom of the stairs, he was clenching his jaw and gripping that knife tighter; looking for the words he wanted to say.
"Carl," he began. "He—he snuck away? He went after the Saviors and killed two?"
Georgie couldn't tell if he was just angry or maybe also a little proud and impressed. Maybe all of the above. "I don't know. I guess. That's what Negan just said," she replied with a shrug, feeling out his tone. "He never came home for dinner last night and when I went looking around this place for him, Scott pointed out that one of the cars outside the walls was missing. We put two and two together that him and Enid snuck out and took the car. I never thought he'd…"
Rick curled his lips, and his nostrils flared. He looked like he wanted to yell; to storm inside the house and berate his son. However, when he made the first move to even head up the stairs, Georgie held her hands out to him to stop him.
"Rick, don't," she pleaded. "Yes, he took off and, yes, it resulted in bringing Negan back here, but we don't know what Carl saw or what he was put through today before he was brought back. He said he's fine, but he's also your son and holds shit in just like you. We had Negan in here, in this house, with our kids." Her own tears were stinging her eyes now. "Please, don't argue with Carl right now. Just let it go. He knows he fucked up. He knows. Don't yell at him about it. He's had a hard day, too."
Chewing the inside of his bottom lip, Rick simply nodded as he looked down at the stairs and inhaled a few deep breaths. "Negan…" he began; the man's name like acid on his tongue. "Did he—did he touch you at all?" Looking back up at Georgie, he noticed her confused expression. "He said something about you."
"What did he say?"
Rick licked his lips. "He—he said, he said you were good with your hands?" he answered. "What did he do to you?"
Georgie began to shake her head and descended the stairs until she stood on the last step and was eye level with him. "No, no, Rick. He didn't touch me. He didn't hurt me." She placed her hands on either side of his face and could feel him physically shaking against her touch. "He just said something crude to me, so I slapped him. That's all."
Rick raised an eyebrow, and almost allowed himself to laugh. "You slapped him and he didn't hurt you back?"
"No," she assured, dropping her hands down to his shoulders. Then, a little disgusted, she added, "I think he got off on it."
"But, you…you really slapped him?" Off Georgie's nod, he leaned forward a bit. "Was it awesome?"
"Better than sex."
"Really?"
"No, not really. It was kinda scary, actually, but also satisfying."
Rick nodded. "I can imagine." Then, "I'm pretty jealous."
"I bet."
Licking his lips again, Rick pressed his forehead against hers and let out a heavy sigh. "Is Judith okay?"
"She's fine."
"Good. Good. That's good." Turning away from her face, he looked over her shoulder and glimpsed Olivia's dead body and, just like that, the brief moment of happiness he'd felt over hearing about Georgie slapping Negan faded away and reality came crashing back in. "Two more bodies to bury."
Georgie nodded, placing one hand upon her hip and the other brushing some hair out of her face. "I'll get the hose and rinse the porch and the street down, after they're carried away. Actually, I'll tell Carl to do it. That can be his punishment for going off and bringing the Saviors back here. How does that sound?"
"Sounds good to me." Rick looked back at Georgie, studying the intricacies of her frown lines. "I'm sorry you had to play hostess to Negan, and for whatever he said that made you slap him. Actually," he paused, tilting his head slightly. "I'm glad he said whatever he said so you got to slap him. It's the little things, right?"
"Yeah."
Tipping his head forward, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. "I have to—"
"It's okay, Rick. This is just something else we gotta get through, and we will."
Looking away at the sound of footsteps approaching on the pavement, Rick saw Tobin, Scott and Kent driving down the road toward their house in a truck. When the truck came to a stop and parked, Tobin climbed out of the driver's seat, Scott out of the passenger's seat and Kent climbed down from the back bed. All three men were wearing gloves and Scott was carrying several sheets with him as they approached Spencer's body first.
"I should help them," Rick remarked.
Georgie followed his gaze, and nodded. "Okay. I'll, uh, tell Carl to get the hose ready."
"Okay." Looking up at Georgie, he reached out with his free hand and placed it upon her hip where her own hand rested. Slipping his fingers between hers, he pulled her hand forward and then gave it a squeeze.
He didn't say anything, he just looked at her.
And then, like that, he released her hand and stepped away.
Later that night, after Spencer and Olivia were buried and after Carl had obediently hosed down the porch and road of blood without so much as a grumble, darkness had finally fallen and so had silence throughout Alexandria. Michonne had returned home and was informed by Carl all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours; where he went, what he'd seen, what had transpired at home and the lives they'd lost. Judith had fallen asleep easily enough, after having been awakened from her nap early by Negan, making her overtired and fussy by nightfall. Leftover spaghetti that Georgie had put away was pulled out and given to Michonne to warm up and eat. Rick had declined, not wanting to eat anything Negan made, despite how hungry he was feeling. He was also still feeling twisted up inside about what needed to happen next, so he went for a walk; to do his rounds around Alexandria like it was just another normal night.
When Rick had declined the food and left, Michonne second guessed eating the spaghetti, also for the same reason that Negan had made it, but Georgie made a good point that Carl had made it, too, and there was no point in wasting good food. She also painfully admitted that, despite Negan being the head chef, the spaghetti was delicious.
A little while later, Rick returned, pausing just outside the door, on the porch, staring down at the faint blood stain from where Olivia had been lying dead a few hours before. Exhaling a deep breath, he continued inside the house and shut the door behind him. In the living room, he found Michonne curled up in the oversized plaid chair, using her fist to prop her head up. He then noticed Georgie and Carl side by side on the couch, and Carl had must've been just as overtired as Judith, because his head had slumped onto Georgie's shoulder and he was snoring gently.
Rick stepped further into the room and looked between both women and then his son again, and any anger he felt toward him dissipated like a dream he could no longer remember the details of. Instead, he smiled.
"How long's he been asleep like that?" Rick whispered, not asking either female specifically.
"Ten, maybe fifteen minutes," Michonne muttered.
Rick nodded in response, and then stepped forward and nudged Carl's leg. "Hey."
With a startle, Carl woke up and lifted his head almost immediately from Georgie's shoulder while wiping his mouth of any drool that might be there. He blinked, and then looked at his father, at Michonne, and lastly at Georgie; realizing he'd fallen asleep on her. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"It's okay," Georgie assured.
"Why don't you head upstairs and get some sleep?" Rick suggested.
"It'd actually be more comfortable for him down here on the couch. The Saviors took our mattresses, remember?"
"They burned them," Michonne interjected.
All three looked at her.
"Are you serious?" Carl questioned.
Michonne nodded. "The road I was on after I left here yesterday, I found the mattresses; a smoldering, charred heap. They didn't take them because they needed them or because they wanted them. They just didn't want us to have them. They took them because they could."
"And they burned them because they knew we'd find them whenever we left to go looking for supplies," Georgie deduced as Michonne nodded in agreement.
"Well, we can find new mattresses," Rick muttered; his hands on his hips. "For now, let's just focus getting some rest. All of us."
Standing up, Georgie removed the blanket from the back of the couch and gestured for Carl to remain. With a shake, she unfolded the blanket and handed it over to the teen before brushing some hair off his face and wishing him a goodnight. They weren't at that point where they kissed each other goodnight and hugging was still a little awkward. As Michonne walked by, she ruffled Carl's hair and smiled at him, exchanging goodnights with him before heading to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water to take with her to bed. Rick, then, pulled his son in for a hug and kissed the side of his head.
"Sleep tight. I love you."
"Love you, too," Carl replied, lying back onto the couch; propping a pillow up behind his head. "G'night, Dad."
"'Night, Carl."
Flicking off the lights downstairs that were still on, Rick followed shortly after both Michonne and Georgie. However, while Georgie had already slipped upstairs, Michonne was standing in the doorway of her bedroom off the kitchen; seemingly waiting for Rick. When he noticed this, she stepped inside and he moved closer to see what was up.
"Why I didn't go with you and Aaron; I went looking for something, and I found what I was looking for. I went looking for where the Saviors' base is. I found it, and there are more of them, even more than we thought. We are outnumbered. It's not even close."
Rick frowned.
"But, you know what? We're the ones who get things done. You said that," Michonne continued, poking him gently in the chest. "We're the ones who live. That's why we have to fight — not for us, but for Judith, for Carl…for Alexandria, for the Hilltop — for all of us. We can fight them, Rick. We can find a way to beat them. We can do this."
With a nod, Rick looked down at the ground between them. "Yeah, after today, I know that now." Looking back up at Michonne, he sighed. "We will fight. We will."
Michonne smiled. "Good," she remarked. "I think we should go to the Hilltop tomorrow. We should see how Maggie and Sasha are doing. We should talk to Jesus about seeing if the Hilltop will fight with us."
"Okay. We'll go tomorrow."
"Thank you, Rick."
"Thank you."
Without saying anything else, the pair nodded goodnight to each other and went their separate ways; Michonne closing her bedroom door behind her and Rick slowly ascending the stairs.
The entire house was pin-drop silent as he reached his and Georgie's bedroom. He couldn't even her rustling about inside. The door was already open and he found her simply sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest. With her arms resting upon her knees, she was dangling her hands limply between them. Since the bedside tables had also been taken, the lamps were now on the floor as well, and only the one furthest from the window turned on. As he stepped inside the room, closing the door quietly behind him, Rick sighed and walked over to his dresser; removing his watch and setting it in the glass jewelry dish beside his discarded wedding band.
"How's your leg today?" Turning around, he began to remove his utility belt and then his regular belt; both of which he dropped down to the floor next to his side of their "bed".
Georgie shrugged. "I kinda wish I'd taken something for it when I had the chance."
Rick recalled the Saviors taking all their medication the day before; something else to infuriate him. "We'll get something for you tomorrow."
"I'm fine," she insisted; determined to power through the ache as she had been. "At least it's not as bad as it was."
"That's a good sign."
Looking up at Rick, Georgie raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going on another run tomorrow?"
"No."
"Then how are you gonna get more medication for us?"
"I just talked to Michonne for a minute before coming up here. She suggested we go to the Hilltop tomorrow and I agree with her."
Georgie nodded. "We should go see how Maggie is doing."
"That and to talk to Jesus; see if we can get the Hilltop to fight with us against the Saviors." Looking down at Georgie, he began to unzip his jeans and then moved his hands up to undo the buttons of his shirt.
"We're gonna fight now?"
Rick frowned, using the bookshelf against the wall to hold onto as he leaned forward to pull off his boots. "Are you okay with that?"
"I already told you we'd find a way to fight them sooner or later; maybe not today or tomorrow. But we would and we will. And after the shit Negan pulled today, coming in here, trespassing in our home; cooking in our kitchen, shaving in our bathroom? I can't stand for that." Georgie looked down at her hands and began picking at her fingernails.
"And we won't," he insisted, setting his boots against the wall and then standing up straight to pull his shirt off. "We're gonna have a war on our hands, though. Michonne said she found the Saviors' base camp and that there's an ungodly amount of them compared to us. This is something that's not gonna happen overnight."
"Us and the Hilltop can't be the only communities out there that the Saviors have under their thumb. There's gotta be others out there, like us, who'll believe in banding together, to fight together."
"When this fight comes, will you be ready?"
"What kind of dumbass question is that?" Georgie asked with a smirk. "I'm with you; ride or die. Of course, I'd prefer the not dying part."
Tossing his shirt to the ground, Rick stepped across the blanket spread out on the floor that Georgie was sitting on; making his way to the bathroom. "I'm just checking. It's okay if you don't want to. I mean, I'd need someone to look after Judith."
"Maggie. She can't be fighting in her present condition. She can do it. Someone we know can protect her, but shouldn't be fighting."
Flicking on the light switch to the bathroom, Rick stopped and looked at the sink, which he found to be a complete mess. There were beard trimmings all around the bowl, the cap was off his can of shaving cream and he could only imagine how disgusting his razor was now. Remembering how clean-shaven Negan had been and how Georgie mentioned him using their bathroom, Rick felt sick to his stomach. Growling under his breath, he picked up the straight razor and tossed it into the waste basket beside the toilet; deciding to never use it again. Not after Negan had. He could always find something else to use down the line. Shaving was not a priority to him right now. He then turned the faucet on; splashing water around the sink to wash the trimmings down the drain. After recapping the can, Rick stepped back, wiping his hands on his pants and turned back to look at Georgie as he thought about this invasion of privacy.
"I'm gonna jump in the shower real quick," he informed as she simply nodded in reply. He didn't bother to shut the bathroom door behind him as he removed his pants completely and let them drop to the floor.
It's not like it wasn't anything Georgie hadn't already seen a bunch of times.
There was no need to be shy now.
Stepping out of his jeans, Rick walked over to the shower and stepped inside. Turning on the hot and cold nozzles, he tensed as the cold water took precedence at first before he tweaked the nozzles until the temperature was more comfortable for him. Standing under the showerhead as the water poured down over him. Rick reached his hands out and braced the cool, tiled wall and looked down at the water running down his body and just taking comfort in the way the water pelted his scalp and shoulders.
Despite that wonderful feeling, he couldn't shake the anger he was still feeling. The image of Negan walking around this house, cooking a meal with his son, holding Judith, shaving in his bathroom with his razor; it was unsettling. He tried to imagine how awkward it must've been for Carl and Georgie to endure that man and not be able to do anything about it. While he began to wash his hair, Rick wondered what crude thing Negan had said to Georgie that made her decide it was worth it to risk her safety by slapping him in retaliation. Georgie was a strong woman, and she could handle a lot, so for her to let her guard down and snap like that, it had to have been something she felt was just that awful. And that made Rick angrier.
As he rinsed his hair out, he lathered up a bit with soap and washed his skin to the best of his ability, but his thoughts were distracting him so much that it was likely he missed some spots. Putting the bar of soap back, he rinsed off some more and then turned the water off. Giving his head a shake, he slicked his hair back with his fingers and stepped out of the shower. Stepping onto the shower mat, he grabbed for a towel and wrapped it around his waist, while listening to the last remnants of dirty, soapy water swirling down the drain.
For a moment, he just stood there. He ran his hands over his face and flicked away some of the excess water that was beading down from his scalp like sweat. Letting out a short cough and clearing his throat, he began to leave the bathroom.
"Georgie, I gotta know—" he began, but stopped when he came back into the bedroom and saw her laying on her side, under the top blanket, with her arm bent at the elbow so that her head could be propped up with her hand. Her shoulders and arms were bare, giving away the fact that she was wearing no shirt or bra underneath that blanket, and if her top half was naked, it was very likely her bottom half was, too.
"Gotta know what?" she inquired, bringing his focus back to him.
He sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "What exactly did Negan say to you? I need to know what he said that was so bad you had to slap him."
"Does it really matter?"
"To me, it does."
"He asked me if I had reconsidered going back with him, becoming one of his wives. Said he didn't have a redhead and wondered if the carpet matched the drapes. His exact words," she replied. "But that's not why I slapped him."
"Why?"
Frowning, Georgie shifted and lay back with her head on her pillow as she stared up at the ceiling, rather than over at Rick. "He wanted to fuck me. Said he believed it would be enjoyable."
Rick's face fell and his jaw clenched so tightly together he felt like he might crack his teeth. "That's when you slapped him?"
"That's when I slapped him," she repeated; confirming it.
Rick breathed heavily out of his flaring nostrils.
"The upside was that he was asking," Georgie continued, letting out a sigh. "He wasn't going to force himself on me. So, I think we can cross off him being a rapist from the list of all his negative qualities." Glancing over at Rick and seeing how he was getting hot under the theoretical collar, she added, "I don't think he knows you and I are together. I don't think he's picked up on that. I think he thinks I'm fair game because there's no ring on my finger and that the only relationship I had here was that he still thinks Abraham was my brother."
"That doesn't matter," Rick remarked stepping forward. "Unattached or not, he had no right to speak like that to you."
"This is a man who has no problem killing innocent, defenseless people. Asking to fuck my brains out isn't that bad by comparison."
"That doesn't make it right."
Georgie and Rick looked at each other for a moment.
"Just look at it this way," she spoke again. "We're still alive, Rick." She beckoned for him to come closer, so he crouched down and sat down beside her. "So much has happened, so much that we shouldn't have lived through. And, in spite of it or maybe because of it, we did. We're still here, the two of us. We're still standing, and we're gonna keep standing. Given a bit of time and resources, we can fight the Saviors, Rick. We can find a way to beat them. We can do this, but…but only if we do this."
As Georgie placed a hand up to his knee, Rick covered it with his own hand and smiled appreciatively down at her. "Ride or die, right?"
Georgie smiled. "Ride or die," she nodded. "You said it to me before, and to all of Alexandria; that if we don't fight, we die. Well, we're dying here like this, so we're gonna fight. We might suffer some more losses along the way, but we'll win. The good guys always win in the end. That's the way it's always been and always will be, no matter how long it takes us to win."
Rick licked his bottom lip and nodded. Leaning forward, he brushed some of her thick ginger locks from the side of her face and smiled at her with his eyes. He just sat there like that, staring at her for a few moments, not saying anything. Georgie stared right back, looking over every intricacy of his face; every curve and indent, every scar or pock mark, the beard growth on his face, the way his blue eyes could look both bright and dark at the same time, and the way his fuller bottom lip seemed to protrude a bit farther out when he was thinking about something.
Leaning down, Rick smiled properly and kissed her gently upon the lips. When he nuzzled her nose briefly, he asked, "What do you miss?"
Pulling back from his face, Georgie began to smile as well. "Wow. We haven't done that in a while."
"Yeah, well, I think we're overdue."
With a soft exhale of breath, Georgie lifted her hands up to either side of his face; enjoying the way the short hairs scratched gently at her palms. "I miss our bed," he replied with a small chuckle.
Rick snickered and began to lift up the blanket that was covering her body and then tossed it aside. "Me, too," he agreed, pulling off the towel from around his waist.
"No copying my answer," she chided. "What do you miss? Remember, it's supposed to be something superficial."
"I know," he insisted, moving to lay himself down between her legs while propping himself up with his arms. After a moment of thinking and playing with the ends of her hair, he answered with, "I miss my Colt."
Smiling, Georgie leaned her face up to his and kissed him again. "What are you talking about?" Lifting her legs, she wrapped them around his waist and pulled him down further against her body. "I feel it right here."
Shaking his head, Rick shifted slightly; wrapping his arms up underneath her back to hold her against him while she somewhat mimicked the gesture by wrapping her arms around his shoulders. The feeling of being that enveloped with each other without even being in the throes of lovemaking was just as wonderful.
It was comfort. It was safety. It was calm.
"We're really gonna do this, aren't we?" she whispered.
"Sex?"
"No," she chuckled. "Fight."
"Yeah, we are. Are you sure you're ready for it?"
Snaking a hand between their bodies, she helped position him where he needed to be, while she nodded back at him. "Ride or die."