Author's Note: So, it's only been four months, but here's the update for this story. We can blame the delay in my wanting to finish my other story, going on vacation, getting injured, moving and life. Yay. So, enjoy and, as always, please R&R!
xoxo —Holly
"A man's worth is no greater than his ambitions." — Marcus Aurelius
Before they got too close to Alexandria, the group parked a little ways away and walked the rest of the way up to the front gate. Those on watch saw them coming and rolled the gate open which allowed them to greeted by an anxious Tobin who approached Rick first thing.
"Lose the car?"
"Uh, it's somewhere safe," Rick replied, continuing forward without the slightest hiccup in his step.
"You didn't find anything."
"No. Listen, we need to get everyone ready. The—"
Before Rick could finish that thought, the rumbling of approaching vehicles almost felt like it had come from out of nowhere, causing everyone to turn back around toward the gate, which hadn't yet been closed, to find that the Saviors had arrived, only slightly sooner than they had been anticipating. Pausing in their tracks, they just stood there and watched as the Saviors rolled right into Alexandria without hesitation, but taking a few steps back to give the cavalcade a wide enough berth. Once all vehicles had come to a complete stop and engines had been killed, Rick looked briefly at his people and then gestured for the gates to be closed as he and the group that had returned with him, plus Tobin, began to walk forward toward the Saviors climbing out of their vehicles.
Simon, Negan's right hand man, was front and center, approaching with his arms out wide and a big smile as if they were all good friends. "Rick! Hello. And…hello again."
"We thought it'd be longer," Rick spoke, playing innocent to why the Saviors had shown up.
"Do you think we're here for a tribute?" Simon asked, stepping up to Rick. "Do you?"
"Is there another reason?"
"There is. We're here for Daryl."
Rick frowned. "Negan took Daryl."
"Oh, but," Simon winced, bending briefly at the knees and pointing at Carl, "then your son showed up, Daryl went missing—might those two things be connected?"
"They're not," Rick insisted. "We didn't know he was gone till right now."
Simon continued to smile like he was having a grand old time, and he probably was. "Then this should be easy."
As Georgie narrowed her eyes, leaning more on her left leg, which she was doing a lot of since taking that ricocheted bullet to her right leg nearly a week ago, she determined that all Saviors probably got off on these moments. "Sick fucks" were the exact words that came to mind for her.
"Now, everyone find a buddy," Simon announced to the Alexandrians standing before him. "Gonna have to follow us around. If he's here, we really need you all to see him die.
As Simon began to walk away, he paused in front of Carl and flicked his hat and then continued on, with Rick sighing heavily and following after him. Each Alexandrian began wandering off after a different handful of Saviors, with Georgie choosing to go off after those heading toward where Judith was, for her own peace of mind and Rick's, so she could make sure the little one was unaffected rather than what further damage to property and belongings was gonna happen. After all, material objects could always be replaced.
Comforted in the knowledge that Judith seemed unfazed by anything going on, Georgie gave her a kiss on the head and left her once again with her current babysitter before scooting across the road where the rest of her group she had arrived home with was now gathering on the road behind the townhouses. There Simon began to lead the way to one of the open garage bays where the pantry was located and whistled at the sight of how empty all the place was.
Simon wasn't the only one surprised by the metal shelves being so bare; Rick and the others, too.
It hadn't been like this when they'd left for Hilltop the day before.
Simon whistled and cast a look over his shoulder at Rick as they all followed him into the pantry. "Wow, these are some bare shelving units. You guys have a barbecue or something and not invite us? Seriously, this is sad. Hope you're not trying to hide stuff from us, 'cause that generally doesn't go over very well." Simon turned and looked around at each face, chuckling a little.
"We have a lot of people," Aaron explained as Simon began to focus his attention on him. "It's…getting harder to find stuff and our focus lately has been on finding things that Negan might want. We're still adjusting to the new system."
"We were gonna scavenge more today," Rick spoke, shifting Simon's focus away from Aaron. "If you just wait, we'll…bring something back. We'll find more."
"Aww," Simon chuckled, leaning his arms upon the shelf separating him from Rick. "Relax! I'm not here for a pickup. Good thing. But that day is coming, so you best do whatever you need to. Dig deep. Go the extra mile." Simon slammed his hands on the shelf, causing a very cacophonous echo throughout the pantry. "Take some risks!"
"We will," Georgie assured, standing there beside Michonne with her hands on her hips as Simon turned to look at her.
"Well, we will appreciate that," Simon remarked, walking right out of the pantry rather abruptly.
As the other Saviors waiting outside the pantry followed, so too did Rick and the rest of his group as they made their way along the main road that curved along the pond and headed back toward the main gate, which had already been reopened for the Saviors' departure.
"Thank you for the cooperation, Rick," Simon expressed. "My apologies for leaving the place a bit of a mess, but we got a litany of other shit to attend to!" Several of the trucks had already started back up and were making their way out of the gate. "So do you, I guess." Turning around, he pointed at Rick. "Tick-tock. Chop-chop." Turning away, he opened up the passenger door to the truck that pulled up beside him and climbed on up before hanging out the window. "Oh! And, Rick—if Daryl does turn up here…two days from now, two months from now…hell, two years from now…just know there's no statute of limitations on this." Simon grinned. "Keep that hatchet handy. You're gonna need it if he turns up with you people. And it won't turn out the way it did for your boy." His grin fading into a sneer, Simon turned back into his seat but kept his eye glued to Rick as he slapped the outside of his door twice; signaling for the driver to drive on.
As the rest of the vehicles drove off out of Alexandria, Tobin began pulling the gate closed while Rick walked forward a few paces to watch the tail end of the Saviors disappeared up the road. Flexing his right hand in and out of being a fist, Rick turned quickly around and glared at Aaron and Eric.
"What happened to the pantry?" he demanded.
"We don't know," Aaron replied. "And we need to talk about Gabriel."
"Where is he?"
"He was on watch last night when you all went to scavenge," Tobin informed, joining the others. "I was supposed to take over for him this morning. He wasn't at his post."
"Pantry was cleared out and a car was gone," Aaron continued, squinting slightly.
"No one's seen him since," Eric added.
"That sonofabitch," Rosita scoffed, shifting her weight as she at Rick with her arms folded and looking ready to rumble. "He stole our shit and ran."
"That's…what it looks like," Tobin remarked.
Michonne shook her head. "Well, I don't want to believe it."
"I don't believe it," Rick mirrored. "That's not Gabriel. He wouldn't do that to us."
"I thought he changed, too, but it can't be anything else," Rosita carried on.
With a sigh, Georgie also mirrored Michonne, primarily in shaking her head. "There can be any multitude of reasons of what it can actually be." She glanced from Rosita to Rick. "If he was going to just take off, for one, he wouldn't take everything. He'd take enough for himself and go. He wouldn't take food from the mouths of children, from Judith. He's protected her and kept her safe for us more times than I can count over the last couple of months when we needed him to. He wouldn't just turn his back now."
"No, he wouldn't," Rick agreed, stalking away angrily.
Sharing a look with Michonne, Georgie silently gestured for her to come with her as she followed after Rick. He seemed to be making his way back toward the pantry and that assumption would be right. As they followed him inside, the others seemed to be following as well but at a slightly further distance. Rick, however, didn't remain in the garage and instead headed up the stairs, up to the main floor of the townhouse where their armory had been before the Saviors cleared it out. All that was left now was empty gun racks and an empty closet. Not even a stray bullet casing could be found. The only thing of interest now was a bible laying open and face down on the floor in the center of the room and Rick had certainly took interest in it as he crouched down and picked it up.
"I can't believe he would just take our shit and go," Georgie maintained, looking over at Michonne. "I mean, that's not who he is. Not anymore."
"Well, he saw Olivia and Spencer die right in front of him."
Georgie frowned. "It's not like they're the first. He was here when the Wolves attacked. He's seen brutality at the hand of the living before and didn't turn tail then, so why do it now?"
Rick got to his feet and held the bible up to both women. "Why wouldn't he have taken this with him? Why would he leave it on the floor?" he wondered as Aaron, Rosita and Eric appeared.
"There weren't tracks out there before," Aaron announced. "We didn't find anything now. Maybe Daryl could've picked something up."
As Rick set the bible down on one of the tables against the wall, he picked up a composition notebook and began flipping through it while Rosita simply rolled her eyes.
"He left," she remarked. "He didn't leave a note. He obviously doesn't want to be found."
"Yes he does," Rick insisted upon flipping to the last page of the notebook and then holding it up for the others to see.
In capital letters, all that was written was "BOAT."
"How would he know we were out there?" Aaron asked.
Rick shook his head and looked over his shoulder at the other man. "I don't know."
Deciding they needed to go after Gabriel and find out what happened, everyone took a bit of time to regroup in their homes; to see what new mess the Saviors had left them with and then simply prepare for their next mission away from Alexandria. Rick wouldn't allow Carl to come with, insisting the boy was to stay home and take care of his sister. The moment Carl seemed like he was going to argue against the decision, Georgie gave him a knowing look that said he should stand down and Rick's stern gaze was the period at the end of that expression's sentence. Having snuck away and brought Negan and the Saviors back to their community and into their homes once already, Rick wasn't about to let his son fuck off and recklessly take matters into his hands again. Carl seemed to accept his place and, to show he would stay put and behave, offered to put the house back into order.
Leaving Alexandria the same way they returned to it, the small group made their way up the road outside the community and reached where they'd left the vehicle they'd driven home in, which was hidden from view amongst some trees. Piling in, Rick climbed into the driver's seat and Aaron beside him while the others found a place in the middle and back rows.
After driving for nearly an hour, Rick parked the vehicle on the side of an overgrown road in the middle of seemingly nowhere. When both men in the front seat climbed out, the others followed suit and then followed as Rick and Aaron began to lead the way into the trees and through the woods. Soon enough, they approached a broken, wooden gate and took turns climbing over.
Walking slowly and quietly, they walked near the water's edge of a large pond where there was a stranded fishing boat at the center, surrounded by submerged walkers. Looking around for clues of any kind, Rick crouched down when he seemed to have spotted something that piqued his curiosity.
Looking over his shoulder at Georgie, he called to her. "Psst."
Coming up behind him with her hunting knife held firmly in here hand, Georgie followed his gaze to the ground, which was covered primarily in dried out, brown pine needles, but also—and more importantly—fresh footprints.
With a nod at him, Georgie let Rick stand back up and lead her and the rest of the group in the direction the footprints were headed; which eventually brought them to an overgrown, urban parking lot. There was even an abandoned crane with a rusted wrecking ball, which hung from a rusted chain, which was covered completely in vines.
As they made their way around, single file, and as carefully and as quietly as possible, Rick held his Colt up with one hand and pointed out where the footprints continued with the other hand. As the tall grass they were walking through hindered any further clues, Rick looked back at Rosita and Tara; whistling at them and gesturing for them to spread out a bit more. Each kept their guard up and their hands readily on or near their weapons as they passed through the tall grass and more onto some cracked, grey pavement.
A sudden thud sound caused Rick to spin around.
About half a yard away was a hooded person beside an abandoned tractor trailer, aiming a shotgun at the group. Three trailer widths away stood two other people—a man and woman—also aiming shotguns. As Rick and the others looked around them, large numbers of armed people were suddenly coming out of the woodwork and advancing on them; pointing guns and other melee weapons right in their faces.
While the others tensed at being completely surrounded, with Georgie clambering to grab onto Rick's hand for any sense of security, Rick simply looked upon this new situation with a smile.
Almost immediately, the group had been forced to hand over their weapons and was silently urged forward to some undisclosed direction. They were quite outnumbered and left with little option but to follow the crowd. As their own group stayed close together, they each took in the different aspects of this new community and how strange it felt and looked. Every last one of these people was dressed more or less the same in black or grey clothing, showing little skin and wearing expressionless faces. The soot on their clothes seemed to fit in well with the fact that they apparently lived and thrived within a junkyard. The mounds were rather large and created a sort of walled barrier with no other obvious entry point aside from the doors of a shipping container Rick's group was being led to.
As the doors were pulled open, the majority of these Garbage Pail Kids, as Georgie was calling them in her head, went first through the entrance and when Rick's group followed, they could see for themselves that the tunnel under the garbage they were passing through was in fact nothing more than an entire shipping container that had been buried underneath the garbage but was strong enough to withstand all that weight and provide easy access between the inside and outside of their domain of debris.
The doors at the opposite end of the container were opened, letting more light inside and allowed Rick's group their first glimpse of the junkyard while the GPK—the Garbage Pail Kids—began to wander around in what initially appeared to be at random. Soon it became obvious that they were taking specific places around Rick's group. They were surrounding them in two circles; an inner layer and an outer layer.
The entire time, Rick didn't seem too bothered by any of this. If anything, he appeared rather amused. When Michonne glanced at him with a mix of anxiety and solemnity, he just gave her a nod of reassurance. Georgie hadn't formed an opinion of all this yet; simply looking around with mild curiousness but with some anxiety as well merely because of the whole "unknown" aspect to this.
Who were these people?
Could they be trusted?
Why did they live in a damn junkyard and how did they manage to not smell like one?
As Rick slipped his pinky finger around Georgie's pinky finger, a voice spoke up.
"Are you a collective or does one lead?"
A woman with an odd haircut stepped forward from behind the outermost circle and began to approach, rather casually.
Another woman, standing directly behind Rick, shoved him forward. "This," she all but sneered, as if Rick had just offended all of her ancestors.
This first woman, the one with the odd haircut, came forward and approached Rick; eyeing him with interest.
"Hi," he greeted. "I'm Rick."
She smirked. "We own your lives. Want to buy them back?" Off Rick's initial silence she asked, "Have anything?"
"Well, you have one of my people. Gabriel," Rick responded. "I wanna see him first. Then we can talk."
The woman smirked and nodded over Rick's shoulder at the other woman who had shoved him. As the latter walked off with an older man in tow, Rick and his group began to look around for a moment as they waited patiently. Then, Gabriel appeared, missing his usual black dress shirt and priest's collar, to reveal the white beater he apparently wore underneath. It was strange to see him so underdressed, and the poor fella looked distraught as he was being led forward by the angry woman and the older man. Gabriel looked nervous but seemed to take considerable comfort in the smile Rick gave him and the fact that the others had come to find him.
Bad Haircut looked from Gabriel and then back to Rick. "The boat things you took got taken. Saw them, so we took the rest." She tilted her head to the side and smirked slightly. "And we took him."
Rick just stared back at her. "Well, then you know we have nothing to buy back our lives with. That's what you'll have soon—nothing. Because me and my people already belong to that group who took those supplies from the boat. They're called the Saviors. They own our lives. And if you kill us, you'll be taking something from them. And they will come looking." After a pause, he continued, "You only have two options when it comes to the Saviors—either they kill you or they own you. But there is a way out." Taking half a step forward, Rick leaned in a bit toward Bad Haircut. "Join us. Join us in fighting them."
She had heard what he said, seemed to find it interesting and, as if she was considering, she then smirked and looked at Rick as if he were an idiot child. "No." Holding a hand up, she signaled for Angry and Oldie to take Gabriel away.
As a few of the GPK began to advance on Rick's group, Rosita immediately lashed out when one of them grabbed her shoulder; head-butting them with the back of her head and then turned to clothesline another.
"Rosita, don't!" Aaron shouted, just as he turned around and was met with what looked to be cue stick to the face; knocking him down.
Tara kicked at one of the GPK coming for her and grabbed their forearms to push them away from her, while Michonne and Georgie stood back to back and pushed away at the people trying to grab them.
Rick broke free of a grasp he was in and shoved his own offender away. "Everybody, stop! Wait!" he shouted, holding his hands out.
Gabriel slipped back toward the foray and swiped a knife off Oldie, while the others continued to fight off the GPK that were trying to contain them. "Let us go or I will kill her!" Gabriel demanded loudly, causing everyone to turn their attention to him and find him standing behind Angry with the knife to her throat.
Bad Haircut simply looked at Gabriel like he was a pet trying to climb up on the furniture. "Away from Tamiel now."
So, Angry was named Tamiel.
"The Saviors, they—they have other places, other communities," Gabriel began to bargain. "They have things—food, weapons, vehicles, fuel. Whatever you want, the Saviors have it."
Slowly, Bad Haircut seemed like she was smirking again. Raising her hand back; she opened up her balled up fist and immediately her people backed off and lowered their weapons. Rick's group merely looked around, slightly confused by how easily the physical confrontation just ceased.
"Away from Tamiel," Bad Haircut repeated to Gabriel, making a shooing motion at him with her hand.
When Gabriel looked around and hesitated, Rick gave him a nod that said it was okay to back off. He nodded back and released Tamiel; stepping forward with hands raised in good faith and then dropped the knife down upon the ground.
"Your words now."
Gabriel looked around again; finding his inner strength. "If you join us, and we beat them together, you can have much of what's theirs." He grinned, looking almost invigorated upon the metaphorical soap box Bad Haircut had given him. "Fight with us, you'll be rewarded…more than you can imagine."
"Want something now."
"Rick," Gabriel nodded at the blue-eyed leader, "can do anything. This group?" Gabriel pointed to his people with pride. "They found me—here, so far from our home. What do you need? Just tell us—we'll get it for you. We'll show you what we can do. Now."
Considering his words, Bad Haircut twirled her hand and looked behind Gabriel. "Tamiel, Brion. Show Rick Up-Up-Up."
As Tamiel and Brion—who was Oldie—began to approach Rick, Georgie got anxious and grabbed for his hand; completely missing how Bad Haircut had not missed Georgie's gesture.
"No," Georgie muttered, knitting her brow in concern.
Rick, however, looked her with a reassuring smile and gave her hand a tight squeeze. "It's okay."
Georgie wasn't convinced. Turning to Bad Haircut, she stepped forward and looked the woman in the eye as Rick began to step away. "Where he goes, I go," she informed; her lips pursing and the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly in a subtle sneer.
Bad Haircut, who was somewhat taller, literally looked down her nose at the ginger before her and studied the way Georgie's facial expression and body language hardened. In what could've been a display of two alpha females pushing each other's dominance on the other, Bad Haircut simply smirked and looked over at Rick, who had paused along with Tamiel and Brion; awaiting Bad Haircut's decision.
"You go to Up-Up-Up," Bad Haircut announced after a moment of internal deliberation.
With a polite but stern nod of her head, Georgie stepped away from Bad Haircut and joined Rick at his side.
"You nuts?" he whispered to her as they walked side by side together behind Tamiel and Brion. "You don't know where they're taking me."
"Neither do you," she whispered back; not oblivious to the fact that Bad Haircut was bringing up the rear of their little procession away from the others. Tapping her fingers against his wrist, she added, "Ride or die."
With a shake of his head, Rick couldn't deny how much he appreciated how stalwart she was; how she wouldn't back down and how she would fight for him—for them.
As the five of them rounded a narrow passageway around a continuous mound of junk, Rick and Georgie soon found themselves at the base of what looked to be a manmade stairway leading up on part of the trash heaps. Bad Haircut took it upon herself to go first and lead the way up, followed by her loyal Tamiel and Brion. Rick and Georgie looked at each other, shrugged and then ascended the stairway behind the other three, and rather warily at that. It felt a little perplexing that important chunks of junk from the garbage mound weren't simply falling away from the combined weight of everyone headed to the top. It must've been just that well compacted.
At the very top, Rick and Georgie looked around and, despite the eye sore that was such a massive junkyard surrounding them, there was no doubting it was an amazing view. They could see for miles in every direction. Bad Haircut nodded ahead of them, down below to where they had entered this odd community, to view their friends looking curiously up at them.
Looking down at their friends, at each other and then at Bad Haircut, neither Rick nor Georgie knowing if they should say something to break the awkward silence.
"All of us, here since the change," Bad Haircut informed. "We take. We don't bother. Things grow harder. We open cans, sometimes inside's rotten. Time's passed. Things are changing again. So maybe we change. Maybe." Turning to away from all her domain, she looked upon Rick who stood at her immediate left. "Need to know you're real with this—that you're worth it."
Before Rick could respond, she grabbed his arm and shoved him off the heap, sending him tumbling down into a pit directly below him.
As he cried out in surprise, Georgie did the same as she dropped to her knees and followed him with worried eyes. "Rick!" After a moment to comprehend what had just happened, she got back up to her feet and got right in Bad Haircut's face. "What the fuck was that for?! Why did you do that?!" she shouted.
Michonne, just as alarmed as the others from below, and possibly unable to hear what Georgie had just demanded to know, yelled up to them, "What did you do?!"
Georgie looked down to see her friends running up to the other side of the heap and that was when she lost sight of them from where she stood. However, at least she had a rather decent view of Rick. When he didn't move right away, she got nervous, but the walls of the pit allowed any sound from down below to echo and travel upward. Hearing Rick grunting and panting from the aftermath of his fall and seeing him slowly begin to move around was an immediate weight off her shoulders.
"He lives," Bad Haircut muttered nonchalantly. "Now he proves he's worth it."
Glaring at the taller woman, Georgie crouched down onto her hands and knees. "He's okay!" she shouted to their friends. Then, as if to be sure, she asked him outright. "Rick! Are you okay?"
Craning his head upward, he spotted her ginger hair before anything else. The sun reflecting off her white shirt made it hard to focus on anything else about her from where he was. Holding a hand up toward her, he nodded. "I'm okay."
"Rick!" Michonne's voice echoed from somewhere closer to him and he moved toward a pipe within the heap's wall.
Looking through it, he saw Michonne peering back at him from the other end and he nodded at her. "I'm alright," he assured for a second time.
While he began to take in his surroundings, Georgie tried to determine if there was a way out for him when she noticed movement from behind him. Something lumpy and spikey began to approach and it set every one of her nerves alight.
"Rick—behind you!"
Rick turned and his eyes went wide at the sight of a walker with sharpened metal spikes sticking out of its body and a metal helmet with even more sharpened metal spikes welded to its head; virtually preventing anyway for it to be killed. After all, if the head was protected, the brain couldn't be destroyed.
Scared, Rick backed away; stepping on something round in the process. When he glanced down to see what it was, he discovered it was a human skull still tacky and caked with the remnants of blood and skin. It did nothing to remove the fear he felt as he stumbled and fell backward into the pit's wall while the spiked walker growled as it approached him.
"Stop this!" Georgie pleaded with Bad Haircut, all the while not averting her eyes from Rick and his predicament. "Put a stop to this!"
"You go where he goes, yes? If he is not worth it, then you will prove you are next." Bad Haircut smirked when Georgie looked up at her with a darkened glare. She was unfazed by the venom with which she was being looked at, so she shrugged. "You go where he goes."
Down below, Rick half crawled up another section of the pit wall and grabbed a computer keyboard. He used it as a weapon; striking it across the walker's covered head, but all that it did was send a few keys flying and crack a few good chunks off of the end of the keyboard. Losing his footing amongst the rubble underfoot, Rick slipped but was quick to jump back up to his feet. He scanned his surroundings again for another weapon—anything that would help him—but could find nothing as the walker came right up to him; leaving Rick no other option but to throw his hands up defensively, which wasn't the best move on his part.
Rick's right hand was pierced straight through by one of the smaller, narrower spikes on the helmet; causing Rick to cry out in pain and yet try to ignore it all the same in order to focus on keeping the walker away from him so its chomping teeth didn't bite down on any part of his flesh.
With a decent enough shove, Rick managed to push the walker away for a few moments and free his impaled hand. Those moments weren't long enough, though, as the walker came staggering toward him again, forcing Rick to get back up and continue to defend himself. Lifting his right leg up, Rick kicked the walker against its chest, but Rick sliced open the inseam of his pant leg and also sliced the skin of his inner thigh in the process.
Letting out a new cry of pain, Rick stumbled back into the garbage again, briefly inspecting his wound. He tried standing up and groaned at how badly it hurt. Forcing himself to bite back on that pain, he rolled around and attempted to climb up the pit wall, grabbing onto whatever he could for leverage, but began to slip. Rolling and tumbling unceremoniously down to the bottom of the pit, Rick started to crawl away until he could pick himself back up. As soon as he managed to get upright again, he stumbled into the pit wall; at a loss for how to get out of this situation.
Scanning what she could see of the pit from up above, a panicked Georgie called down to Rick, "The walls! Use them!"
Casting a glance up toward the direction of her voice, quite literally like an angel looking down from heaven to the hell he was trapped in, Rick then looked around him and began to pull at the garbage and knock pieces out of place. Quickly, junk began to rain down upon the walker as Rick dived out of the way. With the walker knocked onto its back and weighed down by the fallen debris, Rick grabbed onto some sort of material sticking out of the wall; giving it a tug and forcing even more things to bury the walker.
With the walker unable to get up, having been encumbered by garbage, Rick now had the time to look for a proper weapon and he found it in the form of broken shards of glass. Wrapping one of the largest shards with a piece of red, scrap material, Rick crouched down and began to hack away at the walker's neck until he was able to sever the head completely from its body. The walker growled and gurgled throughout as its blood splattered the ground and the base of the pit wall, and even splashed back up a little at Rick.
Having succeeded in besting the walker, Rick stood up; breathing heavily and teetering a bit as he turned around and looked up. "You believe us now?!" he bellowed. "Just tell us what you want…and we'll get it."
Tossing the shard of glass and scrap of material away, Rick continued to look up; waiting for a response.
The answer he was given was a rope that was thrown down for him to use to climb back up.
So, with a sigh, Rick grabbed onto the rope, firstly with his left hand to mentally prepare himself for how painful it was going to be to use his right hand next. And, sure enough, it was. Letting out a wounded grunt, Rick grit his teeth and barreled through it as he began putting one foot in front of the other; struggling not to let the pain interfere and cause him to lose his grip. Slipping all the way back down and having to start over was not something he was looking forward to. However, Rick was a survivor and had gotten through worse moments and, in the grander scheme of things, this was very low on that list.
Upon reaching the top of the pile, he was weakening, falling forward but managed to get back up. He was panting and grunting, but not once would he give Bad Haircut and her two lackeys the benefit of seeing him give up or ask for help.
Being offered help and accepting it was another story.
As soon as he was close enough where reaching for him wouldn't cause either of them to fall, Georgie grabbed onto Rick's wrist; mindful of his hand. Taking a moment to get his bearings on his knees, Rick responded by gripping onto her right forearm with his left hand and then allowing her to help him up to his feet. Standing up, he began to steady his breath and flashed an appreciative eye at Georgie.
"You okay?" she whispered, leaning her face toward his.
Rick just nodded and then looked over her shoulder to Bad Haircut who stepped up to the pair.
"Guns. A lot," Bad Haircut spoke, with a nod and a smile. "A lot. And then we fight your fight."
Rick nodded back and then looked down to his and Georgie's friends below. He caught Georgie off guard by smiling and chuckling to himself. She couldn't understand it, considering the injuries he'd just sustained and how Bad Haircut had basically made a dancing monkey out of him just to determine whether or not her people would join the fight against the Saviors. Georgie was fairly certain there were any multitude of other ways to come to that decision.
Turning from Rick and Georgie, Bad Haircut called over her shoulder to them, "Follow."
Without another word, she began to head down the large mountain of garbage with Tamiel and Brion directly in front of her. Looking at each other, Rick nodded Georgie and gestured for her to go ahead of him. It wasn't until they reached the bottom that any of them spoke again.
Rick and Bad Haircut just stared at each other for a while; assessing the other. For Georgie, she had more of a glaring contest going on with Tamiel.
"You know we will win?" Bad Haircut asked of Rick.
With drops of sweat falling from every damp curl hanging down around his face, Rick tilted his head slightly and exuded nothing but confidence. "Oh, I know it."
"After, we get half of what's won."
"Oh, you'll get a third. And we're taking back what you just stole from us."
Bad Haircut grinned. "Half."
"A third."
"Half," she repeated, rather softly.
Rick chuckled, looking down for a moment. "A third."
"A third and we keep what we stole."
After a brief glance at Georgie and an incredulous shake of his head, he gave his attention back to the woman in front of him, complete with a smile. But that smile was didn't reach his eyes, which were starting to reveal a rage within he was keeping well checked.
"Half of the jars, the ones we took," Bad Haircut continued to bargain. "One time, this time. Yes? Say yes."
After a moment of hesitation, Rick narrowed his gaze and nodded. "Yes."
"And the guns."
"And the guns."
Having seemed to have reached an accord, Bad Haircut extended her right hand in the age old gesture of sealing a deal. However, as Rick extended his own right hand, which was covered in his blood, she grimaced and retracted her right hand only to extend her left instead. Doing the same, Rick shook her hand and looked her in the eye while doing so.
"Waited by the boat long time. Want something for it," she continued, still holding his hand. "So it's this. Jars and guns, guns and jars."
Rick was confused. "You waited for someone to get the supplies of that boat for you?"
"Long time," she confirmed with a nod while releasing his hand. "We take, we don't bother."
It took every ounce of Georgie's willpower not to comment on that damned mantra.
You sure as hell are quite the bother, she thought.
Knitting his brow, Rick looked off for a moment and then back at Bad Haircut with a question. "You had that thing down there for someone to prove themselves?"
"No," Bad Haircut replied. "His name was Winslow."
Rick wasn't sure how to process that. He wondered if Winslow was some walker they found and fashioned with all those spikes or if maybe he had been one of them and decided he would serve some further purpose for them in death.
"What were you gonna do with Gabriel?"
"Go. Deal expires. Soon."
Deciding to end the conversation there, she turned away and began to walk off.
Watching her go, Rick sighed. "What's your name?" he asked.
She stopped, turned and smiled a little. "Jadis."
Turning back around, Bad Haircut—Jadis continued on her way and her minions Tamiel and Brion followed right behind.
Looking over at Georgie, Rick exchanged a look of bewilderment with her and then began to limp over to her. "What the fuck was all that?" he wondered with a laugh.
Raising her eyebrows, Georgie shrugged and shook her head. "Which part? The way they talk, her hair, the fact that they had a pit monster or that they created Thunderdome with it?"
Despite his injuries, and the stress it all gave him, Rick couldn't help but find the humor in it. "It's kind of impressive, actually," he commented with a look around them.
"My high school English teacher is rolling over in his grave right now at their grammar."
Rick shrugged. "Maybe they learned English as a second language when the world ended. All that time on their hands to learn new things," he joked.
With a shake of her head, Georgie moved around him and slipped her left arm around his back so that his right arm draped over her shoulder and so that he could use her as a crutch and not have to put so much weight upon his right leg. "C'mon, gimpy. Let's get our shit and our people and get out of here before you get Tetanus."
"If I haven't gotten it already."
Snickering, Georgie smirked a little, but part of her really was worried about the possible long-term effects of his injuries. That spike going through his hand could cause nerve damage and, being right-handed, it would make firing a gun quite the task. And she was pretty serious about the Tetanus thing. Gangrene was another possibility. Those kinds of infection could lead to the loss of his hand or leg, or even his life. In this new world, they couldn't be too careful.
Though, without a doctor at Alexandria anymore, getting Rick treated would be interesting. Sure, Rosita had been trained a bit more with medical procedures by Denise before her death, but she wasn't exactly the ideal candidate for this sort of thing.
"We should stop at the Hilltop on the way home. You need your hand and leg treated by an actual doctor, and Harlan can do that for us," Georgie suggested as she led them back toward where their friends all were.
"Yeah," he agreed. "We should stop there anyway to give Jesus and Maggie an update on what we found here."
"But your health first, okay?"
Casting a side glance at her, Rick smirked and nodded. "Okay."
As the two of them rounded a curve in their path, they came upon their people, who looked back at them with a mix of relief and anticipation.
Rick smiled. "We have a deal," he announced, sounding tired and for good reason.
The others smiled back; that anticipation giving way to joy.
A short while later, the Garbage Pail Kids were gathering the supplies taken from Alexandria that Rick and Jadis had come to agreement about taking back with them. Rick was leaning against a white car with Gabriel, talking to him, while the rest of their group watched the GPK walking past with container after container of their supplies. Michonne seemed to be acting in a sort of supervisory position, whereas Georgie found herself to be a little distracted by the metal sculptures here and there.
"Someone's trash really is someone else's treasure," she quipped, causing Michonne to look over at her.
"Hmm?"
Georgie pointed out a couple of the sculptures. "Those are actually pretty cool."
Raising an eyebrow, Michonne stepped over particular sculpture of a cat. After a moment of consideration, she picked it up and walked back over to Georgie. "I'm taking this," she commented with a grin.
Georgie chuckled. "Some days you just gotta treat yourself."
Turning away from Michonne, Georgie looked over at Rick to see him placing a hand upon Gabriel's shoulder. Possibly sensing her eyes on him, Rick looked back and they shared a smile. They didn't seem too bothered by whatever heated conversation that was playing out between Aaron, Rosita and Tara, and they didn't seem too bothered by the fact that Brion and Tamiel had reappeared like a pair of harbingers of doom. They were just focused on being content with the good things that had gone right for them today.
"Guns. Soon," Tamiel announced.
"Soon. Or else," Brion mirrored, with the added bonus of an ambiguous threat.
Once the gloomy pair walked off with the handful of GPK behind them, Rick limped over to Georgie and Michonne. "I bet they're the life of any party they go to," he joked.
Michonne raised an eyebrow at him. "You're surprisingly cheery for someone who was almost crucified."
Rick shrugged. "Just another day at the office."
"It's the Tetanus. It's making him delirious," Georgie remarked, trying to make light of the situation as well while Aaron and Tara began loading the containers of supplies into the trunk of the white car.
"So, once we get you stitched up, we'll go right back out and find the guns, right?" Michonne questioned.
"That's right," Rick confirmed.
"Do you have any idea where?"
"No, but that's never stopped us before." Rick turned and gestured to Tara. "Tara, you've been out further than any of us. At least you can tell us where not to look."
With a smile, Tara nodded and began to play with the bracelet around her wrist. "Yeah. Sure thing."
"Let's go already," Rosita called out impatiently.
Rick ignored her and looked down at Michonne's hands, at the metal cat sculpture and raised an eyebrow. "You really like cats, don't you?"
Michonne shrugged. "It reminds me of that cat statue I found back in Georgia. That one was so beautiful."
With a nod, he smiled. "Well, it was certainly bright."
"It was colorful," she clarified.
"We need to make a pit stop at the Hilltop before we head home to Alexandria," Georgie offered up. "Rick should have someone with proper experience stitch him up."
Rick tried shrugging it off. "It's just some flesh wounds."
"Rick," she admonished, grabbing his right wrist and holding his hand up. "You can see through your hand. Slap a Band-Aid on your leg if you want, but your hand is more serious than 'just some flesh wound'."
"Enough chit-chat. Let's go," Rosita urged again.
Turning and glaring at the younger woman, Georgie gritted her teeth. "Girl, shut up already. We're going."
Raising an eyebrow again, Rick snickered and closed the trunk. Taking a step back he threw an arm around Georgie's shoulder; pulling her in for a side hug and pressing his lips to her temple. "Alright. Let's go."
That night, after half their group had gone straight back to Alexandria with their returned supplies and the other half took that detour to the Hilltop so Rick could seek Harland's medical attention for his hand and leg, everything seemed delightfully calm and peaceful. The air was still, but it was neither too cool nor too warm out. Everyone in the community had retreated to their homes by the time the sun had gone down, like most every night, and the only sign that people were still awake was by the lights still on inside the houses.
On the edge of his bed, in the privacy of his own room, Rick sat hunched forward in with his bedside table lamp on. He was squinting as he struggled to stitch up the ripped inseam of his right pant leg just as Georgie walked into the room and stopped at the sight of him, biting down on his thumb while in deep concentration.
With a small laugh escaping her lips, Georgie reached out and grabbed the pants away from him. "Why don't you throw these things out? You have other pairs of pants and you never wear them."
Sitting up straighter and still holding the threaded needle in his right hand, Rick frowned. "They're my good luck pants," he replied with a slight smirk.
"They are far from it. Good luck? No. Bad luck? Yes or at least a solid maybe."
Rick smacked his lips. "I love these pants. I can't bring myself to toss 'em."
Georgie looked down at the pants in her hand and sighed. "Well, at least you washed them first."
"Carl did, actually."
With a roll of her eyes, Georgie shook her head. "Seriously?"
"Hey, he offered," he replied with a shrug. "Judith spilled food all down her clothes earlier and he was gonna start a load anyway."
"So, did he actually offer or did you just throw your pants into the middle of a load?"
Rick hesitated to answer. "I don't have to dignify that with an answer."
Georgie chuckled. "So, I'll take that as a no." Shutting the bedroom door, she sank down on the bed beside Rick and held out her free hand to take the threaded needle from him. "If I sew these up for you, you gotta promise me to wear other pairs once in a while. I'd really like to enjoy watching you walk around in a pair of tight blue jeans."
Rick snickered. "You just wanna ogle my ass."
"So? This black pair is so old, the material is getting baggy. It gives your ass no definition."
"I didn't realize my ass needed to be defined."
Georgie turned and looked at him. "Not all the time, but sometimes," she spoke; a corner of her mouth rising in an impish, half-smile.
He sighed. "Fine. How about on Sundays? On Sundays I'll give these pants a day of rest."
"I suppose it's a start."
After a moment, Rick's eyes wandered to her hands and watched as she turned the ripped pant leg inside out and then began to stitch it up from the top of the rip down to the bottom with rather large stitching. He could tell she wasn't doing it like that for aesthetics but quick practicality. As long as it closed up the pant leg and didn't fall apart as soon as he put the pants back on, that's all that mattered; not how it looked.
"How's your hand?"
"Fine," Rick answered. "Harlan gave me good meds." Holding his bandaged hand up, he flexed and stretched his fingers while she continued to work on his pants. "I lucked out. Should heal pretty well and I won't lose function with it." Turning to look at Georgie's profile, he nudged her arm with his elbow. "Told you those were my good luck pants."
"I will burn these good luck pants in a minute."
"You wouldn't dare."
"I will if you call them your good luck pants again," she warned with a smile.
"You drive a hard bargain."
Another moment later, they both fell silent and he continued to watch her finish up his pants. Once she was done, she got up and set the needle and thread atop his dresser and then draped the pants in the chair in the corner of their room. She didn't say much of anything as she turned and looked at him; leaning against her own dresser.
"You okay?" he asked.
Chewing the inside of her bottom lip for a moment, she shrugged. "I was just thinking about earlier. When Jadis shoved you down into that pit, and you didn't move right away, I thought for a moment that your neck had been broken and I was prepared to attack her and shove her down there to her death. I was really scared for you."
"You helped me though. Helped me get through it."
"Maybe a little."
Looking toward the ground, Rick replayed his time in that pit with Winslow and grimaced. "Did she talk to you at all while I was down there? Did she say anything of importance?"
Georgie shook her head. "Just that if you failed, she would shove me down there to fight Winslow instead all because I had told her I go where you go."
"Maybe you shouldn't tell that to strangers."
"Hey, Negan still thinks I'm nothing more than your live-in nanny."
Rick smirked. "Shush now. Don't go giving me au pair fantasies."
Georgie chuckled again, but then grew serious. "Are you still up for heading out tomorrow to look for those guns?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "And I wanted to talk to you about that."
"Oh?"
"I know it went assumed that Michonne or Aaron would go out with me, but I want you to come instead."
Georgie just stared back at him; considering his suggestion. "Really?"
"Yeah. I just think, considering everything that's happened lately, that we could use this time to not just look for guns, but also for just us. It's always us and the kids and everyone else. I'd like to go on an adventure with just you for once." Rick smiled boyishly up at her. "The two of us, against the world."
With a sniff of laughter emitted from her nostrils, Georgie smiled back at him and nodded. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah," she confirmed. Pushing off from her dresser, she sauntered over to him and stood between his legs; placing her hands upon his shoulders and continuing to smile down at him as his hands found their way to her hips. "I'll go on an adventure with you."