Pete's dead. You shot him. It's done.

While this of course is not the first man you ever killed, in fact, not even the first who might not have deserved to die, you've rarely killed anyone with so many witnesses present, or with so much emotional detachment.

The last few days have been crazy. Things spiraled out of control, just as you knew they would. What you didn't anticipate was what would be the trigger.

He's been gone for two days, and nothing, nothing is as it was, or as it should be. When Carol came to you and told you what Pete was doing to Jessie it was a welcome distraction. You knew something was going on with them, and you had guessed what that something was. Did he deserve what he got from you?

Why is it that we hurt those so much that mean the most to us? Can you honestly say that what Pete did to Jessie happened because he was an evil man? What makes you less evil than him, then? You hurt the person who means the most to you in the world just as much as Pete hurt Jessie. He'd been doing it for longer, and maybe his methods are easier to recognize for what they are, but just because his story is a soap opera your Greek tragedy isn't any less despicable.

And you killed him. Killed him because a vindictive, grieving, weak woman asked you to. Not because he was a real threat to anyone, not any more. You killed him because it fits in with your plan. You want to take this place, and you need an excuse to spiral this situation out of control. Any excuse will do.

He would have never let you do it, if he'd been here. Hell, if he'd been here you would have never gone over the edge like you did. He is the reason your insides are ripped open and bloody. He is the reason you are going insane.

For a moment you feel hatred. Not for yourself, or for Pete, or even for these people here. Not impatience, not annoyance, or irritation. Hatred. Hatred for him, for leaving you, for making you do things you never thought you could do.

You ripped out a man's jugular with your teeth to save your family. But that's just it. Joe was a threat, and that awful act your only option. Had you hesitate, had you shied back, Carl would have been raped, and Michonne. Daryl would be dead, and so would you.

Now this, here, this was madness, pure and simple. You are no longer Officer Friendly. You have crossed a line, one that you've seen coming for a long time, and now you're over on the other side, and there's no way back. No way to undo this, no way to unsee, unfeel. No way to get back what you had.

Or is there?

The weapon feels hot in your hand, your heart beats heavy in your throat. You look at them all, featureless masks alight in the fire's glow. Then…

"Rick."

His voice. Just one word. Your name. He is there, he's looking at you. His eyes reflect the disbelief, the numbness that's coursing through you. Paler, dirtier, more tired than he was when he left you can see he's been through an ordeal of his own. But you can also see, in his eyes, that your journey since you parted ways has been the more grueling, the more insane, right here, behind these walls.

And there is Morgan. You can't believe it, and it makes no sense. The feeling of disorientation is strong, and despite it all, the pain and the estrangement, in your confusion you seek out his eyes again, scan for the understanding, and the love, you have grown accustomed to from him.

You desperately hope to find them there, still.