This chapter is dedicated in memoriam of Lisa C. Williams (1965-2018).

She wasn't just another huge fan of The Walking Dead, but also an absolutely wonderful human being, and this world was a better place because she was in it.

"Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
— Dylan Thomas

The sun overhead was still bright and warm, and still just a few hours from setting, but there was an unmistakable chill that ran up the spines of Rick, Georgie, Carol and Jerry as they went separate ways in three separate vehicles. Carol would be returning to the Kingdom, Jerry to the Hilltop, and Rick and Georgie, obviously, would go home to Alexandria. All four needed to warn the three individual communities that the Saviors had escaped the Sanctuary and would be bringing a fight to all their doors. There was no time for delay. Barely a goodbye was said to each other when the foursome split up. They didn't even contemplate not seeing each other again, because if they had, they would've made the time to embrace and bid each other a final farewell or even a simple wish of luck.

Rick and Georgie had taken a weathered sedan that had been left behind by one of their snipers that had been killed. They lucked out in that there was a box of bullets in the glove compartment that fit Rick's Colt. They were also lucky in that, as with most of the vehicles belonging to either three of the communities, the keys were left in the car; specifically, with this sedan, upon the dashboard. As Rick got behind the wheel and began to drive them in the direction of Alexandria, Georgie took it upon herself to empty out the bullets from the box; reaching over to Rick and shoving a small handful into each of the two shirt pockets on either side of his chest. The remainder she tucked into her front pants pockets for safe keeping because carrying the box around would be too impractical, and if he ran out, she could hand over the extras, because she would likely be in the same vicinity of wherever he was.

When she sat back, she turned and studied the way Rick was tightly gripping the steering wheel along with the look of anxiousness and determination upon his face. His knuckles where while, and the skin of his face slick with sweat. The latter wasn't an unusual sight, but this sweat wasn't from heat alone. It was from worry. And she felt it just the same.

Their friends and family where back home in Alexandria, likely none the wiser about what was probably going to be arriving very soon upon their doorstep. They needed to get home as soon as they could, to give their people time to prepare; to fight or to flea—whichever.

They knew the adults could handle themselves when it came down to it, but there were children to think of—their children. Carl and Judith were innocents and did not need to become collateral damage.

"We should stay off the main roads, the closer we get to home," Georgie suggested. "Roads we're more familiar with but the Saviors aren't."

"The main roads are quicker," Rick countered; still keeping his eyes glued ahead of him.

"I know, but we run the risk of running into the Saviors or getting cut off by them that way. We take the back ways, and we make up the time with accelerated speed." Reaching out, she patted his thigh. "Not saying drive reckless, but it's okay to put the pedal to the metal."

Tearing his eyes away from the road for a moment, Rick looked at Georgie and gave a slight nod of his head. He pressed down on the gas pedal a bit more, and then looked down at the fuel gauge to make sure they had enough gas to get home. Content in they had at least that going for them at the moment, Rick's tenseness seemed to ease up a little. He inhaled and exhaled a single deep breath through his nostrils and did his utmost to keep a clear head and not let his thoughts run away from him with nothing but worst case scenarios. With Georgie at his side and her hand comfortably upon his thigh, he easily felt a lot better than if he would've had he been trying to make his way home, alone.

Knowing they still had a ways to go, considering all the communities, the Sanctuary included, were so spread out from each other, Rick let his shoulders slouch somewhat and he allowed his focus to go back and forth between the road and Georgie.

"Were you okay, back at the junkyard?" he wondered, giving them something to talk about to fill the time.

Georgie nodded. "Yeah."

"You didn't have your boots on. Did Jadis have you—"

"—Strip naked so her personal Michelangelo could draw me?"

Rick sighed. "Yeah."

"Sort of," she replied. "I mean, I got to keep my underwear and socks on, unlike you. She also didn't take pictures of me."

"You could see that?"

Georgie smirked. "Yeah, a little bit. I had holes in the door of the shipping container I was in. I could see enough through them."

After a few moments of silence between them, as they mulled over their awkward shared experiences with Jadis and her garbage people, Georgie brought her hand up to her right temple, to itch it, and suddenly felt a slight trickle of blood. Remembering she had been cut by the broken glass when Carol's back SUV windows had been shot out, and realizing she had just nicked the area that had dried due to her blood coagulating, she reached forward for the glove compartment and began to rifle through it in hopes of finding a bandage.

"What are you looking for?" Rick wondered.

"Band-Aid, or a tissue. Something." Knowing he would ask why, she added, "I got cut when the Saviors were shot out the car window back at the Sanctuary. I just nicked it and aggravated it. It's bleeding again."

"Is it bad?"

"No. More like a scratch, really."

More silence fell between them, but even though it was comfortable silence, Rick still felt the need to fill the air with conversation. Mostly because any quiet meant his thoughts and worries had ample opportunity to find a way forward to annoy him.

"I wish I'd taken those pictures from Jadis," he remarked.

"Why?"

"I don't like the thought of her getting to look at me naked any time she wants."

"At least it's just in pictures, and not in person."

"Still. If those pictures get into the wrong hands…"

Georgie smirked. "Then those wrong hands will have no choice but be impressed by what they see."

With a sigh, Rick stole a look at Georgie. "While I greatly appreciate your vote of confidence in my hardware, there are some things I'd rather remain a mystery to others."

"At least, when they were drawing you, Jadis didn't mutter 'smaller' in regard to your hardware."

Rick knitted his brow together. "Huh?"

"Her junkyard artist was probably drawing my boobs a bit bigger than they actually are and Jadis corrected him."

"They're the perfect size."

Georgie rolled her eyes and shrugged. "The only time I was ever bigger than a B cup was when I was pregnant and nursing my kids. They were sore as all hell, but they looked so nice, and I was so sad when the balloons deflated when I ran dry." With a mocking pout, she sighed. "C'est la vie, right?"

Rick snickered. "Lori was smaller than you, and I remembered that was the one thing she absolutely loved about being pregnant—with Carl, at least. It's not something that came up in conversation or that I gave much thought about when she was pregnant with Judith. She loved going up cup sizes."

"Jake liked it more than I did each time I was pregnant. He'd try to fondle the girls and I had to swat his hands away. Then he'd get all pissy. He was free to touch anything else he wanted when we were in the mood, but he always had to go for the boobs. He was like a child who had to be told over and over again not touch rabid dog."

"You're likening yourself to a rabid dog?" Rick actually seemed to be smiling now; which was a welcomed change from the worry he was feeling and deep-set frown lines on his face.

"Hell yeah," she nodded. "I used to easily stand my ground with Jake. He used to be all bark and no bite, back before everything. If I said no, and if he tried to keep pestering, I'd shove him or cuss him out, and then he'd back down like a dog with its tail between its legs."

"But he changed."

"We all did."

Rick clenched his jaw and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip as he focused on a sharp curve coming up in the road, which was going to be a bit trickier at the speed at which they were traveling. "This is the first time I think you've easily talked about him since just after…" After I killed him, Rick thought. "Like you're talking about an old friend."

"Well, he and I were friends once upon a time, not just spouses. I'm not going to rehash those days after we first got to Alexandria. I didn't like how scared he made me feel then, and I still don't like it. It happened, but he's dead and I've put that time into the dark recesses of my mind, and I choose to ignore it. I choose to think of my last time seeing him as being the day he left home and never came back. That was the last time I saw Jake, my husband. The man I met in Alexandria, living in that blue house with Tristan, wasn't Jake anymore. That was someone new. The old Jake died the day he walked out my door and sometime after that a new Jake was born."

"I'm glad you are in a good place where you can talk about it."

Georgie nodded in agreement. "So am I." With a shrug, she added, "Or maybe so much more has happened since then that whatever issues I had with him pale in comparison. I mean, the amount of people we've lost since then, and as horribly as a lot of them went, and with everything we're in the midst of doing now, nothing else seems to matter at the moment. What happened, happened. It sucked, but it's over. We just gotta live in the moment and think about the future, and fight like hell to have one."

After managing the sharp turn, Rick had taken his eyes off the road when it began to straighten out again, and looked to Georgie with a rueful smile. "I don't know how I would've managed any of this without you."

"You have so many other people in your life. It's not just me."

"They're not you, though."

After meeting his gaze for a moment, Georgie's face softened. The moment she began to avert her own eyes back toward the road, her grip on Rick's thigh tightened. "Walkers!" she exclaimed.

Barely twenty feet in front of the car, a slew of walkers were ambling about. There were probably two and a half dozen of them, at least. Rick couldn't slam on the brakes fast enough to avoid them. Like a bowling ball to bowling pins, the car either knocked the walkers down, bumped them out of the way or popped them over the hood, and subsequently the roof, of the car. Blood and guts painted the windshield, reminding them of that night in the car, with Glenn behind the wheel, when Aaron was leading them to where Eric was, and they were left unable to see anything.

By the time the sedan skidded to a halt, the engine seemed to be seizing and for the same reason they had been unable to get the car Glenn had been driving to start back up. There was likely too much gore in the engine, clogging it all up.

"Shit." Rick put the car in park and released his foot from the brake pedal. "Sorry."

"Why're you apologizing to me?" Georgie asked, not expecting an answer.

"I didn't see them in the road."

"We just came off a sharp curve."

Rick shook his head; intent on blaming himself his oversight. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Let's get out and clean the grill—see if that helps," she suggested.

"And if doesn't?" Without waiting for a response, he shook his head again. "No. If we get out and start walking now, we can make it home by nightfall. We might be able to make it there before the Saviors do. It wouldn't be the first time we made a literal run for it home."

"Or we can try to clean out the grill."

"We could, and it could do nothing. We don't have the time to stand there, picking intestines and fingers out of the grill and engine. And even if we get most pieces out, who's to say this thing will start moving again. I mean, I can't even see out the windshield. I can't tell how many more walkers are out there right now that I didn't just mow down."

Georgie let out a huff of breath. "Well, sitting here is wasting time, too. So, either we get out of the car and take some time to remove some bloody bits and baubles, and take a chance on the fact that the car might still very well run just fine, or we walk. If we just start walking now, it'll take a lot longer to get home than if we take the extra time to clean grill and engine and we still manage to drive away."

"Alright, fine. We'll clean out what we can. But we gotta get rid of the rest of these walkers first." Looking over his shoulder, Rick could see a couple of walkers that had avoided being hit coming up to the car from behind. None were close enough to the sides of the car. "Before they get closer, let's go."

As Rick turned the ignition off, Rick and Georgie threw open their car doors, jumped out; quickly assessing their immediate area for immediate threats. There were no more in front of the vehicle, thankfully. While Georgie ran around toward the front, Rick removed his hatchet from his side and began to attack the few walkers drawing near to him.

Georgie grimaced as she pulled bloody bits of entrails from the grill. Hurrying around to the driver's side, she looked over to make sure Rick was handling things alright, which he was since there weren't too many walkers left upright, and ducked into the car to pull the latch for popping open the hood of the car. Hurrying back toward the front of the car, Georgie pulled open the hood the rest of the way and propped it open with metal prop rod. Inside was much more gore than she had expected to find. There was an entire forearm lodged between the exhaust manifold and the engine.

"How the fuck…?" she grumbled, attempting to remove it and then burning her fingers a little because the piping was still very hot from the engine which hadn't cooled down yet. "Fuck!" Snapping her hand back toward her, she removed her knife and used that to instead cut away at the lodged forearm.

"You okay?" Rick called back at her.

"I'm fine. You?"

In response, he came up beside her with his hatchet dripping with walker blood. "Walkers are taken care of," he informed.

"Already?"

"Yeah." Pointing at the engine, he asked, "Most of this clear?"

"As clear as it's gonna get, I guess."

"Alright. Hold on." Walking around back to the driver's side, Rick slipped into the seat and turned the ignition on, but the engine immediately sputtered and seized, and then died. Trying again, he listened as the engine all but wheezed this time.

"I think the engine might've sustained damage from the undercarriage when we ran over one or more of those walkers," Georgie called out to him. "There was an arm stuck all the way up between the exhaust manifold and engine." She walked over to his open door and placed her hand upon it as she looked inside at him. "You can go ahead and say it."

"Say what?"

"You were right."

"I take no joy in being right." Then, "At least not about this."

Georgie let out a sigh of frustration. "Okay, so we're walking the rest of the way."

"With short bursts of running," he added, as he climbed back out of the car. "We don't have any more time to waste."

Georgie nodded and sheathed her knife into her pocket and Rick slipped his hatchet into one of the loops of his belt. Ducking back into the car, he reached for the automatic rifle he'd taken from the sniper at the Sanctuary, and slipped the strap over his head to wear it across his back the way Michonne did with her katana when she wasn't using it. Then, with only a touch to Georgie's elbow for a signal to go, Rick nodded and the two of them started off up road in a bit of a sprint.

Darkness had since fallen and the air was considerably cooler now, but Rick and Georgie were flushed with warmth in their faces and a burning in their lungs. Neither had allowed themselves to stop for long to catch their breaths, and did everything they could to ignore the screaming aches and pains in their legs, knees and feet from so much running. When all this was said and done with, they were going to have to take up jogging as a daily exercise so times like this didn't almost kill them. After all, the last time they'd had to run this hard and this far was when the herd had broken away and was making its way to Alexandria. And, like then, Rick and Georgie were running a race to get home first before the impending threat.

Only, this time, they weren't able to get there soon enough.

By the time they reached one of the back routes into Alexandria, as stated, it was dark, but there was smoke filling the air and there were fires all over the places. The homes brought into the community following the expansion, as well as the church, were smoldering infernos. A handful of walkers were scattered about the community, having been drawn by the noise of whatever exactly had gone down, but, beyond that, it was eerily quiet.

Rick paused for a moment, before entering through a break in the sheet metal wall. His hands shook as he reached around him to bring the rifle upward to use. The sweat from his scalp had made its way through his hair, causing each lock to cling around his face as if he'd just stepped out of the shower. He was having a moment of panic washing over him and his feet felt like two cinder blocks. He was scared as to what he might find, and that fear and that panic he was feeling was turning into anger and rage.

This was their home. It had been attacked and he hadn't been here to fight or to protect it and his people.

His children—oh God, his children.

Were they safe? Were they hidden away? Did they get out?

A touch of a hand to his shoulder brought him back to the present as he looked to his left and saw Georgie, brandishing her handgun, giving him a reassuring nod to go forward.

Exhaling a breath, he steeled himself against his worries and his fears, and let his anger and his rage fuel him.

Slowly, Rick walked ahead of Georgie by only a few paces; leading the way into their community—their home.

A few explosions kept going off in the distance, so they knew the Saviors hadn't left yet. Keeping to the shadows, the pair slipped between homes and darted over to their house with the stealth of cats. They slowly crept up the front steps and Rick opened the front door without ever lowering his rifle. He gave a quick sweep from side to side to check for any immediate threat lurking near the entrance, but found none so he stepped forward, allowing Georgie to enter inside behind him. As she shut the door, Rick moved more toward the kitchen.

"Carl," he called out in a loud whisper. "Judith. Michonne."

Walking forward, Rick peered in through the open door that led into Michonne's bedroom. As he reached the stairs, someone in the shadows struck the rifle out of Rick's hands and knocked him to the ground with a hit to his abdomen with a very unmistakable bat.

Georgie got on the defensive, aiming her handgun.

Stepping out of the shadows, Negan smiled at her. "Hey there, Red," he greeted as Rick rolled onto his back, trying to regain the wind that had been knocked out of him.

Without hesitation, Georgie fired a shot at Negan, but he was either just lucky enough to lean out of the way of the bullet in the nick of time, or Georgie's aim hadn't been as true as she'd thought it would be. Either way, he survived the shot, unscathed, and glared at her; giving a kick to Rick's thigh as a sort of punctuation to an unspoken sentence. Pissed off and a little bit scared, Georgie was feeling less confident in her aim but fired another shot at him, but nothing happened. She fired a third time and realized the damn gun must've jammed or she was out of bullets.

Jadis, she growled in her mind.

Georgie hadn't checked her weapon after getting it back. Jadis must've had the magazine emptied, save for that single bullet Georgie had just wasted.

Fuck.

"This shit isn't funny anymore," Negan remarked. As Rick moved to reach for his Colt up, Negan struck him in the arm with Lucille. "Don't make me do this now, Rick. I got plans for you." Rick groaned in pain and toppled forward a bit while Negan leaned over him and removed the Colt, tossing it aside, and then the same with Rick's spare gun. "Cut you up into itty bitty pieces, feed you to the dead, and make you watch."

Georgie's gun might not be firing any shots, but she could still do something with it. The moment Negan raised Lucille to strike Rick again, Georgie she tossed her gun with a passion at Negan's head and managed to clip him on the side of his forehead. The distraction was enough to buy Rick time to roll out of harm's way.

"Bitch, ow." Negan touched his forehead and shot another glare at her. "That was rude."

"Fuck off," she retorted.

Negan chuckled under his breath. "Don't interrupt me when I'm talking."

"Don't you do enough of that?"

Rick used the wall just within the dining area, beside the Morse code artwork, to get himself up to his feet. Negan swung Lucille at Rick, who dropped back down, and hit the wall instead.

"You know, I don't like the idea of hurting women. Not if I can help it. But so help me, Red, you're testing my patience."

Removing her knife from its sheath, she had to arm herself with something, now that she'd thrown her dud of a gun. Negan noticed, and smirked; finding something about it funny. When he suddenly lunged at her, Georgie expected Lucille to the face but instead Negan grabbed for her throat and backed her into the square column between the kitchen and the living and dining areas. She tried retaliating by stabbing him in his side or on his arm but he use Lucille to knock her knife out of her hand. The sharp scrape of the barbed wire against her hand drew blood and was quite painful. She could only imagine how much worse Rick was feeling right now.

"You know what, I think I'm gonna do the same thing to you that I'm gonna do to Rick," Negan commented; half-sneering and half-smiling down at her with his face too close for comfort. "When you're both some sort of fucked up, creepy stumps with a heads, that's when I'm gonna kill you both—in front of everybody."

"Don't you ever shut the fuck up?" Rick growled, reiterating Georgie's question.

"Nope!" With a swift shove, Negan tossed Georgie aside like a rag doll and then swung Lucille behind him at Rick, but wasn't quick enough. He hit the edge of the dining table instead while Rick scampered around to the other side, causing Negan to chuckle a little. "You know your kid volunteered to die?" As he sauntered around the table like a lion hunting its prey, Rick pushed a chair between them and continued around the other side of the table. "What kind of boy you raise, Rick? I'm gonna fix him. 'Cause I like him. A few years, he's gonna be one of my top guys!"

Negan swung Lucille at Rick again, but Rick came forward with a punch to Negan's face. Both men got a few punches in with each other as Georgie came up behind Negan, keeping a bit low to the ground. Since his focus was mainly on Rick, getting the jump on his was kind of easy. Literally. Georgie jumped onto Negan's back, wrapping an arm around his neck; making him the third guy in two days she'd done this to.

Letting out a roar of frustration, Negan purposely ran backwards into the hutch and pinned her against it. As Rick ran forward, Negan kicked out his leg and knocked Rick backwards to by him time to unclasp Georgie from him. She tightened her grip on his neck, causing him to gasp out a little, so he took Lucille and swung down at Georgie's knee. The moment she felt pain, her grip around him relaxed and he tossed her off his back like a wet blanket. Rick was back, running for Negan again, but Negan met him halfway and, being built somewhat larger, had more of the advantage as he shoved Rick back into the shelving unit that housed a bunch of DVDs and other knick-knacks; subsequently destroying the shelving unit.

"When I am done with you, nobody will ever try to do what you did—not ever again!" Negan bellowed down at Rick, who was scrambling for something on the floor. "Not your friends, not your son, and certainly not Ginger Spice over there—"

Negan wasn't able to finish his sentence because Rick had struck him with one of those knick-knacks, knocking Negan flat on his back like a sack of potatoes. Scrambling around the table, Georgie reached for Lucille, which had been dropped. As she stood beside Rick, he gripped Negan by the lapel of his leather jacket as both of them looked down at the man. Taking Lucille from Georgie, Rick struck made the swift decision to hit Negan in the face with the bat's knob.

"Aah!" Negan hollered. "Don't you touch her!"

He leaned up and punched Rick in the side. When Rick buckled slightly, he lifted his right leg and kicked Georgie's feet out from underneath her. The moment she dropped, Negan used the same leg to kick Rick back from him. Georgie rolled over and grabbed for Rick's Colt, sliding it over to him. The second Rick stood up, Negan ran at him. A shot fired out of the Colt and Rick was shoved so hard that he was sent crashing through the dining room window, tumbling down to the ground outside; leaving Georgie alone in the house with Negan.

When Negan whipped around around to face her, she scurried around the opposite side of the dining room table from him and as soon as she got close enough to the end of the table near the kitchen, she grabbed for a chair. Lifting it up with all the strength she could muster, Georgie threw the chair at Negan and knocked him backward to the ground near the dilapidated shelving unit.

Using his literal down time to her advantage, Georgie scrambled to grab her knife back up from the kitchen floor and then darted for the front door. She tossed it open just as Negan was getting up to his feet, but Georgie was already out the door and running down the steps. Not looking back, she slipped between her house and the one next door, letting out a cry of surprise when she ran into an upright body; not knowing if it was alive or dead, and if it was alive, not knowing if it was one of her people or a Savior.

"It's okay," Rick said, gripping her arm and leading her away behind the houses. "I'm sorry," he added. "I didn't mean to leave you in there with him."

"You didn't plan to be tossed out the window."

"I didn't plan any of this."

As they ran passed the garage of the blue house, they turned the corner and headed up toward the intersection. Looking up the road on their left, they saw the steeple of the church, which was fully ablaze, toppling over to the ground below. More in the foreground, they discovered Michonne in front of one of the nearby homes, hacking at the head of a Savior, over and over and over.

"Michonne!" Rick called out. When he reached for her arm, she shook him off abruptly until she realized who was there. Her eyes were wide and wild from the light of the fires within Alexandria and within herself. "Hey. Hey," he tried to calm her. "Where are they?"

Georgie placed a hand upon Michonne's back as an extra source of comfort for their clearly distressed friend. "Are the kids okay?"

Michonne groaned and turned away. "Oh…God."

Looking at each other with deep concern, Rick and Georgie began to follow Michonne as she led them away.

Rick was the last to slip down into the sewer and was just tall enough to reach up and drag the manhole cover back into place from below. Taking one of the lanterns that had been left at that entrance, Rick stalked ahead to find their people, but mainly his children. He had a one track mind at this point and couldn't even be bothered to let Michonne lead the way with the lantern in her hand so she could light their way. He followed sound instead and the little bit of light that reflected from behind him. He wasn't too distracted by his goal, though, that he was completely ignoring the women trailing him. Rick had reached behind to grab for Georgie's hand as they approached a bend in the sewer, possibly out of need for comfort or solidarity. It was anyone's guess. Much like the day the walls had fallen and they had tried escaping through the herd, she turned her head slightly and grabbed for Michonne's free hand; the three of them linked to one another as they marched forward through the dank, rancid ankle-deep water.

Around the bend, lit lanterns on the wall and the welcomed appearance of their people proved to be a sight for sore eyes. Despite the relief the trio felt in seeing everyone seemingly unharmed and, more importantly, alive, they looked around at all the faces staring back at them. Each face seemed thankful to see that Rick and Georgie had made it back to Alexandria in one piece, but there was sadness in their eyes.

Georgie frowned, understanding that it was a sad night because it was quite possible, that after the literal smoke cleared, that Alexandria as a community was lost and that they would have to move on to someplace new to live. The sadness might also pertain to casualties she and Rick weren't yet aware of until they did a full head count.

Rick stopped in his tracks when, up ahead, he could see Daryl at the far end of the sewer, near the dead end, with Judith on his lap, and a weight lifted a little off Rick's shoulders. Just beyond Daryl sat a man Rick had never seen before, but that wasn't important at the moment. Aside from seeing that Judith was alright, he only needed to see Carl now.

Continuing forward, he released Georgie's hand, and she Michonne's.

There was an increasingly heavy feeling in the air they the three of them couldn't yet place.

As Rick neared the dead end, he passed those of Alexandria he was closer to, that he still considered his family; those that had arrived to Alexandria with him and Georgie and Michonne. But, despite how close-knit a group they were, not one of them, except for Tara, seemed to be able to look the trio in the eye as they walked by, and that in itself was disconcerting. One odd addition was Dwight, who was standing up, facing the wall, but he wasn't important enough to bother giving a second thought to. Coming upon Daryl and Judith, Rick reached out as if to touch his daughter's shoulder but didn't quite make contact as they held their heads low; looking solemnly at the ground.

The heaviness in the air began to weigh down even more.

The averted gazes and the grave silence were putting Rick on edge.

Something was wrong.

Focusing on the unknown man, who was sitting at one end of a cot, with his back to the wall and an overturned can adorned with several lit candles, Rick noted the man's look of remorse and unease. He didn't know this man and had no idea why he was there with his people.

Was he another Savior, like Dwight? Did Rick really not know all the people in Alexandria?

"I brought him here," came the answer, from Carl.

Turning to his right, Rick looked upon his son, propped up against a wall with his legs stretched out before him. Carl wasn't wearing his hat, which wasn't necessarily unusual, but the unsettling paleness of his skin tone and his slow movements were. Confused and wondering what was off about this situation, Rick came to kneel down at his son's right side. Georgie followed suit, kneeling a bit more directly in front of him and Michonne remained standing.

Carl turned to look at his father as Rick leaned in. "That's how it happened," the teen continued, his voice breathy.

He looked quite exhausted but also unmistakably ill. Lifting up his shirt, he revealed a bloody bandage upon the side of his abdomen, which he then peeled away to reveal a bite mark. The moment he returned the bandage over his wound, the heaviness in the air and the downcast eyes made sense. The weight of what had happened to Carl and what was still going to happen to him was enough to buckle Michonne's knees as she dropped down beside Georgie with a shuddering breath. Georgie brought a hand to her mouth to contain the sob creeping up while her other hand gripped Carl's shin.

Rick was at a loss for words. He just stared at his son, who was staring back at him with a look of sorrow upon his face as a tear fell from his lone eye.

Because of this terrible development, the sounds of continuing explosions above ground seemed so much more far off; like in a dream.

But this was more like a nightmare.

"I…I don't…" Rick began, struggling to find the right thing to say.

"Dad."

"How…"

"Dad…it's alright," Carl insisted; his voice a little shaky as he looked up at his father. "It's gotta be. I wasn't sure if you'd make it back before. But just in case, you know…" Sticking a hand into his pocket, Carl presented several pieces of folded paper. "I wanted to make sure I was able to say goodbye."

Notes he had clearly written, for more than one person, Carl handed them to Michonne, who was still staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

"No. It's them," Rick remarked, struggling to make sense of any of this. "It's them. They—they don't…it wasn't…"

While Michonne began crying, Georgie sat there, just staring at this young man she had grown to love as her own child. The fatality of his situation hadn't quite hit her just yet. She was still on shock and felt like she was having a bit of an out of body experience; that she was merely a spectator in her own life. Tears did sting her eyes and a few of them had already fallen, but everything felt numb. She was going through the motions but not really feeling them or acknowledging them yet. She just couldn't seem to process what was happening. She couldn't process the simple and absolutely horrible notion that she was about to lose a third child.

"Carl." Michonne shook her head; as if that could somehow make his imminent demise go away.

"No. No," Rick muttered. He was in the first stage grief, which was denial.

"I got bit," the teen clarified, in case there was any doubt. "I was bringing someone back. His name's Siddiq. We saw him at that gas station, before. It wasn't the Saviors. It just happened." He smiled ruefully; having already made peace with the hand fate had dealt him. "I got bit."

Looking over his shoulder at Siddiq, Rick focused lower to the cot and then back at his son. "Bring that over here for him."

Siddiq understood right away what Rick was referring to. He got right up to his feet and off the cot as Rick reached forward to help his son up to his feet. Michonne stood up and took a step back, as did Georgie, but the latter reached out and placed an arm around Carl's back to help hold the teen up as Siddiq pushed the cot over. Rick and Georgie lowered Carl carefully onto the cot and he laid down flat upon it, closed his eyes for a moment while he got as comfortable as he could be while the occasional explosion still kept going off above ground; causing the walls of the sewer to vibrate.

Propping his head upon the pillow, Georgie pushed some hair from his face and whispered, "Is that better?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"I, um, I got these," Siddiq announced, as Rick, Georgie and Michonne looked over at him. "They're over-the-counter, non-steroidal anti-inflammatories. They'll, um…they'll help a little with the fever." He wasn't getting much of a reaction from the trio. "They did for my mom and dad." His voice breaking, he added, "Please take them. Your son…he should have them."

Turning to glance at Georgie, Rick gauged her opinion. As she nodded, he turned back toward Siddiq and accepted the medication. "You're a doctor?" he asked.

"I was a resident…before. Yeah."

"Your name's Siddiq?"

"Yes."

Looking down at his son, he knitted his brow together. "Did you know he was a doctor? Is that why you brought him back?"

"He wasn't going to make it alone," Carl responded softly. "He needed us. That's why."

Rick nodded. "He was the one at the gas station."

As a much louder explosion more directly overhead shook the walls around them, rocks and debris began to fall down, so Rick hunched forward to cover Carl with his body, to protect him. Carl had already inhaled some of the fallen dust and began to cough.

"Shh," Rick voiced soothingly.

"Water. Give him water," Michonne demanded.

Siddiq handed a bottle over to Rick, who took off the cap and brought the bottle to his son's lip.

"Easy. You got it?" Rick wondered. As Carl began to sip, Georgie gently rubbed his temples. Noting his son was beginning to practically gulp and was near choking, he urged, "Slowly, slowly."

Turning around, Michonne stalked forward over to Dwight. "Make it stop!" she bellowed at him. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she shoved him against the curved wall of the sewer. "Make them stop."

"I can't."

"You can," she insisted. "You're one of them. They'll listen to you. Please." The explosions continued; not letting up any time soon, it seemed. "Please."

Standing up, Rosita approached Michonne and Dwight. "You said the Hilltop's safe?"

"Yeah," he confirmed.

"We need to get everybody there." Looking at Michonne, she added, "We can get Carl there."

"And they think all of you got away in the woods. They're out there, looking."

Joining them, Tara put her two cents in. "They saw us go West, so we won't go West."

"Your best chance is to stay here until they're gone."

"No," Daryl spoke up; his voice with its usual gruffness. "They find us here, we're dead."

"They're almost done," Dwight asserted. "They gotta be. It wasn't about destroying the place. They don't have the ammo for that. After they let up, after they're gone— that's when we go."

After few muffled explosions filling the momentary silence, Rosita offered up the decision. "Okay. We wait."

Rick had returned the cap to the water bottle and set it down beside the cot, which he was now just barely perching on the edge of to maintain a close proximity to Carl. Georgie was kneeling on the ground there as well, and both had been looking over their shoulders as the others had been conversing and deciding on what they would all do next. They couple exchanged a few looks with each other, both grim and a little despondent.

They weren't paying attention to much of what was being said, but knew the plan was for everyone to eventually convene upon Hilltop once the explosions were through or the Saviors were gone. Whichever. The words that did register the most for them, though, came from Daryl.

"All of us, together," he proclaimed. "We'll be their worst damn nightmare."

As Michonne returned, she came to kneel down at Georgie's right, closer to Carl's head. She stroked his hair a little and tried to smile at him as reassuringly as she could muster.

"You left," Carl commented, looking up at her. "You were supposed to be resting."

"I'm not tired," she replied; continuing to smile through her tears.

"Yeah. You look great," he chuckled softly. "It's gotta stop, Michonne. It's not supposed to be like this. I know it can be better."

Rick looked at Georgie, taking her hand, and cast a glance down the tunnel where everyone else was standing and gathered together. The absence of constant explosions followed by the sounds of revving engines and retreating vehicles seemed to be somewhat of a good sign.

Walking forward, Daryl approached with Judith. "Want me to go take a look?"

Standing up, Rick took Judith into his arms. "Hey. Hey," he whispered calmly to her as she began to whimper.

Daryl didn't receive a response but figured he was given the go ahead. With a solemn glance back, he placed a hand to Rick's shoulder. As both men exchanged a brief look, the archer walked away with a few others to see if the coast was clear up above, and Rick turned back toward Georgie, Michonne and his son. Sitting down with his daughter, he watched as Michonne stood up and walked off to join the others and get a better idea of what was going on up above once Daryl returned with word with the 411.

Carl seemed fine at the moment. There was an eerie peace to him as he stared almost blankly up between his father, sister and Georgie. He was watching the looks between the two adults, and then the way Judith grew antsy in her father's arms, turned and reached for Georgie. Freely passing the toddler off to the only mother she would ever know, Rick stood up and allowed Georgie to take his place sitting on the edge of the cot beside Carl.

Rick just stood there, his arms folded; staring down at the ground and occasionally at his son. A few minutes passed and the silence up above was more noticeable and more encouraging that the Saviors had gone. Michonne returning shortly thereafter to say as much wasn't necessary, but it was still nice to hear, regardless.

"The Saviors are gone. We can get everyone to Hilltop. We can get Carl there."

"Carl? No," Rick shook his head.

"Daryl can get one of the cars."

"Carl won't make—he can't leave here. I have to stay with him."

"Rick."

"He can't. I have to stay," Rick insisted.

Swallowing back a lump in her throat, Georgie took one hand from Judith's back and reached down to hold the teen's hand. He was looking away, toward the wall, but he was listening to the words spoken. He had obviously made his peace with his own death, but hearing others speak about him as if he'd already gone wasn't all that easy. When Georgie gave his hand a squeeze, he turned his face toward her and smiled a little, and then squeezed her hand back, though not as tightly as she was able to manage. His grip was weak and lethargic. He was growing more and more tired as the end grew nearer and nearer for him.

Georgie looked upward toward Michonne and Rick. "I'll stay with you."

"Me, too," Michonne added.

Rick cast his eyes down. "Will you take Judith? She needs to be there. If she…if…happens…" His voice breaking, he turned away and began to sob.

"I'll take her," Daryl spoke up, walking down the tunnel toward them. "I'll get here there. I'll keep her safe. I got this."

"Let me say goodbye," Carl requested.

Michonne crouched down and help him sit up. Georgie shifted down on the cot as he leaned back against the wall and then she turned Judith around so that she was facing her brother.

Carl smiled at his baby sister. "You be good, okay? For Georgie. For dad. You gotta honor him. Listen when he tells you stuff. You don't have to always. Sometimes kids gotta show their parents the way." Taking his hat into his hands, Carl looked down at it and sighed. Breathing in heavily he brought his eyes back up to Judith. "This was dad's before it was mine. Now it's yours. I don't know…just—just having it and…it always kept dad with me. It made me feel as strong as him. It helped me. Maybe it'll help you, too." Taking another deep breath, he continued. "Before mom died…your first mom," he clarified, as not to confuse her with Georgie there, "she told me that I was gonna beat this world. I didn't. But you will. I know you will."

Judith began to whimper as she reached for Carl. Georgie managed to lean the girl forward enough so Carl could hug her a little bit, but when Rick reached down and picked her up, Judith began to cry. His heart was already breaking as he then passed Judith to Daryl.

"Here we go," Daryl muttered gently, taking the toddler into his arms. He also took Carl's hat as Georgie passed it up to him on Carl's behalf since his arms were too weak to do it himself. "These people," he spoke down to the teen, "you saved them all. That's all you, man."

Carl smiled appreciatively at the sentiment as Daryl walked away down the sewer tunnel with Judith. Tara managed a brief smile and half a wave goodbye at him before also leaving with the others. Siddiq, who had remained quietly off to the side for some time, stood up and then crouched down in front of Carl.

"You were helping me honor my mom…"

"Not just yours," Carl insisted. "Mine, too."

"You brought me here. You gave me a chance. I know I can never repay you, but I can honor you by showing your people, your f-friends, and your — your family that what you did wasn't for nothing. That it mattered." Siddiq looked upward at Michonne. "That it — that it meant something." Looking back at Carl he added, "Because it did. So that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna honor you, Carl."

Carl smiled and reached out his hand. As Siddiq took it, he commented, "Congratulations. You're stuck with us."

Letting go, Siddiq pushed himself up to his feet and nodded goodbye to Carl. Chancing a look at Rick next, he then continued forward down the sewer tunnel to leave; taking a lantern with him and wiping tears from his face with the sleeve of his jacket.

Georgie shifted on the cot beside Carl and helped him lay down flat upon it again. She moved to sit more on the edge, parallel with his waist, whereas Rick crouched down just behind her and Michonne knelt down near his shoulders; running her thumb back and forth along his forehead. Noticing his fever was growing stronger, Michonne asked Rick for the water bottle and a cloth. Grabbing both, Rick moved around toward the top of the cot to crouch down by his son's head as he passed the items to her. Uncapping the bottle, she poured some of the water into the cloth and began to dab it around Carl's forehead, face, neck and chest in an attempt to cool him down. Georgie then took the bottle and Rick helped lift Carl's head as she brought the bottle to his lips so he could have something more to drink.

They were each doing what they could to ease any of his discomfort.

When he looked to be fading a little more, Michonne asked, "You okay?"

"I don't want you to be sad after this."

"Carl…"

"Or angry. You're gonna have to be strong." Panning his eyes downward toward Georgie, he added, "Both of you. For my dad. For Judith. For yourselves."

Georgie looked from Carl and up at Rick, who was already staring back at her. "We will," she spoke on behalf of her and Michonne.

Turning his attention back to Michonne, Carl frowned. "Don't carry this. Not this part. You're my best friend, Michonne."

Crying and smiling at the same time, she replied, "You're mine, too. You're mine."

The last lit candle atop the overturned candle went out, and everything became darker around them. Rick looked over at it and then touched a hand to Michonne's arm to get her attention. "I need help," he muttered.

"With what?"

Rick gestured toward his son. "To get him out of here."

Michonne was the first out of the sewer. Rick had hoisted her up while Carl managed to — barely — stand upright, but only because Georgie was propping the full weight of his body up. Getting Georgie up was a little harder. Rick was insistent that he help keep his son standing while giving her a hand, but Carl was more insistent, claiming leaning against the sewer wall wouldn't kill him. He had been trying to make a joke, to give the situation some lightness, even in the twilight of his life. The joke fell flat; the others unable to find any humor in it. Once Georgie was above ground, she and Michonne looked down through the open manhole and waited for Rick to hoist his son up. Once the teen was high enough, both women reached down and each grabbed onto one of Carl's arms with one hand while using their free arm to wrap around his back for better support. Pulling him up was easy enough and once he was through, he didn't have much strength on his own to climb up to his feet, so Georgie let him slump lazily against her while Michonne then helped Rick up. That was more of a struggle. Rick weighed more than his son and Michonne only had herself for the task.

As soon as his palms and his knees were touching pavement, Rick looked over at his son just lying there against Georgie's chest; her arms around him and one hand brushing some hair off his face.

"Okay, let's get him up," Rick urged.

Getting to his feet, he reached his hands down and grabbed one of Carl's arms. Michonne grabbed the other so that Georgie could get up as well. Once standing, Georgie moved around toward the front; taking her knife out as she lead the way in case anything or anyone jumped out at them. She would be more readily available to eliminate any threat before the other three.

All around them, it seemed everything was on fire. Not just the two houses brought in from the expansion or the church, but even a few small trees and sporadic areas of grass. The sky was dark, but it was getting lighter closer to the horizon; denoting a new day was upon them. All around them there was still smoke in the air, but at least it wasn't right in their faces, which would've made it more aggravating for Carlin his weakened state. As they cut through the grass, Rick and Michonne began struggling with leading Carl, who was groaning in discomfort; either from some pain he was feeling or just the fever.

"We need to stop," Michonne advised.

"The house up ahead. We can make it," Rick countered, gesturing to the home beside the cemetery.

"It's okay," Carl mumbled. "It's okay. Just put me down here. It's okay."

"No. We'll make it."

"Please."

As they stopped for a moment, Georgie turned around and looked at Carl and then at Rick who didn't know what to do. Turning back forward, she looked up at the church, which no longer seemed to be burning.

"There," she suggested, pointing at it.

With a nod, Rick gripped his arm a little better around his son and then began to trudge forward with him with Michonne's help. At the entrance, Georgie ascended the few steps and threw open both doors and then moved inside to make sure the place was safe before the others joined her. Giving a quick look around at the interior, Georgie looked over her shoulder and beckoned them forward.

The entire inside was destroyed and burnt out. The stained glass windows were shattered, pews were demolished or charred. The entire place smelled of burnt wood and smoke still, but there were no fires burning inside even though they could easily hear the crackling of flames from outside. Even though the steeple had been bombed and toppled to the ground in a fiery blaze, and was still smoldering where it had fallen, somehow whatever fires had burned inside the church had been put out. Maybe it was a strange act of God.

Or maybe it was just cruel irony; a building was saved from being completely burned to the ground by unknown reasons and yet there lay Carl, still just a child, and so very near death.

Breathing heavily, and as best as he could, Carl looked between the trio kneeling around him and staring back down at him. He took turns looking at each of them. First on Michonne, who was at his left, holding his left hand. Then, upward at Georgie was had his head laying up her lap while gently held onto his right shoulder and kept her left hand soothingly upon his forehead. Lastly, he brought his full focus upon his father, who was at his right and firmly holding his right hand; as if letting go of Carl's hand meant Carl would let go of his last breath.

"Thanks…for…for getting me here."

Rick was beside himself. He still wasn't able to process this was the end for his child. "I'm…I'm sorry," he muttered, sweat dripping from his face and hair. "I—I just…I didn't—I didn't want you out there. I…I…"

"No. For getting me here," Carl emphasized. "For—for making it so I could be who…who I wound up." After a few shallow breaths, the teen looked up toward the darkened ceiling while the three adults had tears falling down their faces as they struggled to remain strong for him. "Back at the prison, when we got attacked…there was a kid…a little older than me. He had a gun. He was He was starting to put it down, and I-I s I shot him. He was—he was starting to put it down, and I—I sh—I shot him," he admitted, looking back at Rick. "He was—he was giving it up, and I just—I shot him. I think about him. What I did to him and how—how easy it was to just…kill him."

"Carl, no. No. What happened…what you'd lost…all those things you had to…" Rick sniffled; tears falling from his face and down upon his son's chest. "All those things you had to do. You—you—you—you were just—you were just a boy."

"And you saw it. What it did. How—how easy it got. That's why you changed…why you brought those people from Woodbury in. You brought them in, and we all lived together. We were enemies. You put away your gun. You did it so I could change, so I could be who I am now. What you did then…how you—how you stopped fighting…it was right. It still is. It can be like that again. You can still be like that again."

Rick started to shake his head a little. "I can't be who I was. It's different now."

"You can't kill all of them, dad," Carl interrupted with some passion in his voice. "There's gotta be something after. For you…and for them. There's gotta be something after." Carl took a moment to take a few shallow breaths and collect his thoughts some more. "I know…you can't see it yet…how it could be. But I have. You have a beard. It's—It's bigger and grayer. Georgie's happy. Michonne's happy. Judith is older, and she's listening to the songs that I used to before. Alexandria's bigger. There's—There's new houses, crops…and people working. Everybody living…helping everybody else live. If you can still be who you were, that's how it could be. It could."

"Carl," Rick whispered. "It was all for you. Right from the start. Back in Atlanta, the farm—everything I did, it was for you. Then, at the prison, it was for you and Judith. It still is. It's gonna be. And nothing—nothing is gonna change that."

Carl smiled a little. "I want this for you, dad."

Tilting his head slightly, Rick leaned in closer to his son. "I'm gonna make it real, Carl. I promise. I'm gonna make it real."

Nodding at his father, Carl turned his attention to Michonne, who was forcing a smile to keep from ugly crying, and then upward at Georgie as best as he could. She was biting her lips together and the pain in her eyes seemed to be very identical to the pain in Rick and Michonne's eyes.

"Carl," Rick continued. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. A father's job is to protect his son."

"Love," the teen muttered. "It's just to love." Looking away from his father, he turned toward Michonne. Slipping his hand from hers, he moved it toward the gun he had holstered at his side.

Seeing what his son was doing, Rick shook his head. "No. No."

Panic began to enter Michonne's voice, along with an escaping sob. "Carl. It—it—it should be—"

"I know. I know," he mumbled; his breath ragged. "Somebody you love. When you can't do it yourself. But I still can." His voice breaking, he added, "I grew up. I have to do this. Me." As fresh tears began to roll faster down the faces of the three adults, Carl maintained his gaze upon Michonne. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she cried.

Tears coming to his own eyes, Carl also began to cry a little as he turned to look upon his father. "I love you, dad."

His heart aching so painfully and his chin quivering; Rick's resolve to remain strong had since faded. He leaned closer again to his son and whimpered. "I love you, Carl," he barely managed to say; his voice cracking. "I love you so much." As the sobs began to wrack his chest, Rick pressed his lips down upon Carl's forehead. When he pulled back, he looked him in the eye. "I'll make it real. I will."

Turning to look upward, Rick caught Georgie's eye and wondered how he was going to get through any of this. He knew he would, with her at her side, and then he couldn't help but wonder if this horrendous grief he felt inside him was how she still felt about losing both her children.

Did it really ever get better?

Would the pain of losing a child always remain this strong?

He didn't want to leave his son's side. He didn't want him to leave.

He didn't want Carl to be alone in this and his hesitation to get up and go was obvious.

"Dad," Carl muttered. "You can't be here…"

The sob that escaped Rick's throat was louder than he had liked it to be. He wanted nothing more than to be an image of strength and grace for Carl. He didn't the last image Carl had of him as being a complete grieving mess.

"I don't want you to be alone," Rick muttered, stumbling a bit over his words.

"I won't be," Carl replied, exhaling a little sharply as breathing began to get harder for him. Gazing upward, he smiled a little. "Georgie can stay. I need to tell her something privately anyway."

Rick looked at her again and then back down at Carl. Still hesitating to get up, he soon began to nod. "Okay. Okay."

Slowly, Michonne stood up first and then held out a hand to Rick, who accepted it after a moment. As he got up to his feet, he returned his gaze toward Georgie's face.

Seeing Rick was trying to find some words to say, she nodded at him, as if knowing what he was asking of her. "I won't leave his side," she assured as tears stung her eyes. "I won't leave him alone."

With a nod of appreciation, Rick accepted this decision. It was for the best, he supposed. He didn't want to his son to die, even though he was about to, but he also didn't want to see it happen. Rick didn't feel as if he was strong enough to witness such a horror.

Walking side by side with Michonne, he let her lead him out the front doors of the church.

He didn't look back at Carl and he didn't say goodbye.

It was too final that way.

As soon as they were outside and out of view, Georgie shifted carefully out from behind Carl as she gently laid his head down upon the ground. Moving to kneel beside him, she took his right hand in his as she glanced down at him.

"What did you need to tell me?" she wondered as tears ran down her face.

Carl took a few incredibly shallow breaths first before speaking. His eyelid was starting to droop as his life was slipping more quickly away from him. "Promise me…promise you'll love my dad till the day you die. Promise you'll love Judith, too, as your own."

Georgie smiled through her tears. "I already do."

"I know. I just—I just needed to say it to you. And…and can you do something else for me?"

"Anything."

Lifting the gun up closer toward his head, he gripped it properly, with his finger hovering over the trigger as he aimed it at his temple. "That song you sometimes sing to Judy… when she's sad…or scared. Can you sing it?"

"I don't sing well."

Carl attempted a smile. "I know."

A small chuckle escaped Georgie's lips and she gave him a small nod.

"Don't look at me, though. Look out the window," he requested.

Biting down on her bottom lip, she could feel a deep sob starting to bubble up in her throat. Swallowing it deep, she leaned forward and raised his hand that she was holding to her lips and kissed his knuckles. When she lowered his hand back down, but still maintained her grip around it, Georgie looked up at the where the large stained-glass window above the altar had been blown out and was now just an open frame with broken shards stuck in it. The sun was already starting to rise. It wasn't quite over the horizon yet, but it was already considerably brighter in the church.

Georgie focused on that. "Edelweiss…Edelweiss…every morning you greet me," she sang quietly; her voice breaking as she went. "Small and white…clean and bright…you look—"

A single shot rang out before she could finish the second line.

A sharp breath is what Georgie inhaled at the sound, and a sob is what she exhaled. Looking down at him, she saw his eye was closed and he was no longer moving. The pallid, clammy skin and the blood pooling around his head didn't take away from the fact that he looked so peaceful.

Her sobs tears still fell, but her sobbing halted as she studied his face. He looked like a beautiful porcelain doll. The lack of breath and movement was a little off-putting, but she opted not to focus on that. There was anger beneath the surface that she was feeling, that this was yet another child, cut down in his prime; never to get the chance to have a full life, with a wife and kids of his own someday. He would never see his sister grow up or his father grow old. He would never see the changes he hoped for Alexandria and the rest of the world. Then, there was the grief Georgie felt, which she was starting to become numb to, but that she knew was a new, fresh pain for Rick.

Releasing her grip from Carl's hand, she paused for a moment, and then stood up. She took a step back and looked around at the church in the light of the dawning day. The loss of the building or any of these buildings truly mattered. The entire place could've burned to the ground and that would've been perfectly alright.

Losing Carl wasn't.

Crouching back down after another moment, Georgie reached over Carl and pushed the gun out of his left hand and then lifted both his hands up to rest upon his chest. She tried to straighten his hair a little, only to end up with some of her blood on her hands, so she was forced to wipe them on her pants.

When she stood back up, Georgie turned away from Carl and walked over the broken and burned ruins of the church. Stepping through the front doors, she found Rick seated and hunched forward with his hands on top of his head, and the most painful sobs wracking his body. Michonne was standing beside him, staring forward and crying hard as well.

At the creak of her foot upon the church's front stoop, Michonne turned toward her slightly. Off the distraught Georgie gave, Michonne covered her face with one hand and continued to cry some more. Rick had dropped his hands down, sensing Georgie coming up beside him. When she stepped down off the stoop, she got down to her knees in front of him and held her arms out.

Without hesitation, Rick accepted Georgie's embrace; resting his face down into her shoulder and holding tightly onto her.

As she held him and rubbed his back, and as all three of them sobbed together, the sun appeared.