A/N: Alright, everyone! The last chapter for season five is up and out! The next time this story is updated, we're onto season six. LOTS of exciting pieces will be coming up (Carl's eye, Rick and Michonne's relationship, Enid, Sam, Carl and Alyssa making a badass quartet, changes in Carl and Alyssa's relationship!) Ah, I'm so excited for all of it!
If you enjoy reading this story as much as I love writing it, please leave a review :) They make my day and inspire me to write more.
Deanna decides to put Rick in a small, empty room adjoining the Monroe house. They must have tried building a garage or something for themselves, and it didn't turn out the way they wanted it to. It's completely bleak, the walls a dull shade of grey, and not a single piece of furniture inside.
Mom, Carl, and I set Rick's unconscious body to the ground as Eric and Reg grab an old mattress for him to sleep on. The second we drop him the back of my hand wipes against my nose, clearing the stream of blood. It's slowing down, but it's still dripping. Dammit, Rick. Mom goes inside the Monroe house to grab a chair, positioning it in the corner of the room so she can keep watch on him until he wakes up.
Rosita comes inside, a first aid kit in hand. "His face is pretty messed up, right? I can fix him up."
"Of course." Deanna nods, and she and Reg stalk to the door. "By the way," she throws over her shoulder, "we'll be having a meeting in town hall tomorrow. You are all welcome to join and say your piece." She gives Rick one last disappointed glare before heading out the door.
Oh, you fucked up bad sheriff.
The room is tense as Rosita goes to the mattress and looks at his face. Her hands go to the kit, flying as she grabs the proper equipment for some stitches. "I can take a look at you too, Alyssa. That punch seemed pretty bad."
"He hit you?" Mom snarls out.
"It was an accident." I immediately say. "He swung back too hard. He didn't mean to."
"I don't give two shits what he meant and didn't mean to do." She pushes the chair back roughly as she stands and stalks over to me. Her hand grabs at my chin forcefully, twisting my face so she can look me over. Thankfully the blood has stopped; now all I have is a dull pain in the cartilage. "He was out of control today. And he's gonna get his ass handed to him the second he wakes up."
"In Rick's defense, his ass is already pretty beat." Rosita calls from the mattress. With steady hands she sets tiny white strips along the larger cuts, pulling the skin taut together so it can heal properly. "Pete certainty got a number on him."
Mom sets her jaw, but gives a jerky nod in agreement. A, "fine, I won't kill him now, but later," kind of nod. Which I will gladly take over, "I'm gonna kick his ass immediately."
It takes Rosita a couple more minutes to finish Rick's face, but as soon as she is she beckons me over on the mattress beside her. Her soft hand gently grabs at my chin, maneuvering my face slowly so she can look at my nose. Then she lightly pinches the bridge. I groan at the pain, and she lets go.
"Good news, it's not broken." Rosita says. She sets two white strips along the bridge to keep my skin taut.
"How can you tell?" I ask. I rub at the side of my nose curiously.
"If it was, you would've cried out more. Plus I can move it around some." She demonstrates by booping the tip with her finger and wiggling it around a little. "You should be fine. Give it a couple days before taking the strips off." She resets the strips carefully on my nose and gives my cheek a pat, signaling that she is done.
"Thanks." I say earnestly.
"Anytime, kid." Rosita answers, and she packs up the first aid kit and heads out the door.
I look over to the corner, where mom sits and Carl leans against the wall. Then I twist my head over to the sleeping sheriff on the other side of the mattress.
God, Rick, what have you done?
It's dusk by the time mom kicks me and Carl out of the room.
"You two, go." She tells us, her hand rubbing her eyes as she speaks. "I'll watch over him."
"You sure?" Carl asks her. He's right; she seems beat. At least Carl and I are decently awake. The perks of sleeping in a bit later nowadays, I guess.
"Yes. You two go have dinner. Tell the rest that he's not awake yet." She quirks an eyebrow up as she adds, "Maybe ask Carol to send me a plate of whatever's cooking tonight?"
"You got it." I stand from the mattress, internally screaming as my aching legs stretch out and my back pops here and there. I go to her, plant a kiss on her forehead, and wave over my shoulder as Carl and I head out the door. "Love you."
"You, too." She calls back, and the door closes behind us.
Carl grabs at my hand softly, intertwining our fingers as we head back down the street. Some Alexandrians give us nasty looks as we pass their houses. Of course, we're not trustworthy now. We're associated with the stranger who beat down on the town's only doctor. Great.
"Hey, ST! Carl!" Sam calls from his house's porch. His legs, originally propped up on the fenced area as he sat in a plastic lawn chair, drop the moment he sees us. "Wait up!"
He's not alone, I notice. Enid sits beside him on her own lawn chair, waiting quietly beside him. As he hops up animatedly she follows his lead down the steps and to the two of us.
"Hey, guys." I greet. Carl offers a, "hi," as well.
"How're you feeling?" Sam asks me, pointing to my nose. "Rick got ya pretty good."
"I'm fine." I wave off. "Banged up, but I've had much worse."
Sam and Enid nod in understanding. They've probably suffered worse, too. "Why'd you call us over?" I ask curiously.
"We just wanted you to know-" Sam starts, trailing off as Enid finishes his thought.
"We just wanted you two to know that we're with you." She says smoothly. "Rick's right. These people are weak."
"He had a pretty asshole way of showing it," Sam shrugs, "No offense." He adds as he looks over to Carl. Carl just nods in agreement. "But it's the truth."
"Thank you." Carl answers kindly.
"You going to the meeting tomorrow?" I ask them.
"I'll be there." Sam nods quickly. "Show my support and all that. We need Rick here. We need all of you here."
"I'll go, too." Enid pipes up. For once, the gaze in her eyes is strong. No longer do they have the dull hue of survivor's guilt. She has passion in them, if only a little. "You guys need the numbers against them. I've seen what happens at these meetings." She uses air quotes around the words. "They're going to want to kick him out. We aren't just gonna stand by and let it happen."
Carl and I give wide grins at the two of them. Momentarily I drop his hand and throw an arm around each of them, squeezing tightly before letting go. "Thank you. It means a lot."
"Anytime, ST. Anytime." Sam winks playfully.
"We're heading home now," Carl says, "but we'll see you guys tomorrow." He gives a curt nod in their direction, his eyes twinkling. He seems to be growing on Sam. That's awesome.
I wave goodbye to the two of them, my hand going back to Carl's as we head home. He looks over to me. "Do you think that's gonna happen? That they're going to try and kick my dad out?"
"Yes." I answer simply. It's not a surprise. His actions were out of line for these sheltered people. "They're going to try." I squeeze his hand tightly. "Try being the key word. They won't succeed."
Rick finally wakes up the next morning, groggy as all hell and grumpy as shit. Or so mom tells me. I haven't seen him yet. I'm still a little angry at him for slogging me in the face and giving me a bloody nose. But no hard feelings. Totally.
Eh, I'll punch him one of these days and get back at him.
By noontime I'm still in the house, the rest of the group dispersed among the safe zone. Carl is in the living room, fiddling nervously as Judith waddles on the floor. He hasn't been by to see Rick. We were told by mom, Glenn, and Carol to give him some space. I'm in the kitchen, my knife and a blade sharpener in hand. Each swift SCHLICK of the blade against the sharpener is music to my ears. It's the one damn piece of protection I have; I might as well tie a noose around my neck if I let it go dull.
I'm startled by the front door opening, and the quick breath of relief as Carl lets out, "Dad!" I sigh happily in my seat. At least he's okay.
I set the sharpener back into the cutlery set drawer and shut it swiftly. My blade is left on the table, waiting to be put back where it rightfully belongs. My sheath is upstairs with my clothes, and I sure as hell don't want to be sporting it around Alexandria. Especially at a time like this.
Leisurely I make my way to the hall, resting my top half against the wall and tapping my foot lightly as Rick sets his brown winter jacket (y'know, the one he only commits murders and beatings in,) on a hook by the door. I smile at his back. Good to see you again, sheriff.
"I heard about the meeting." Carl says to Rick.
"You're staying home." Rick immediately answers.
"Actually, I think he should go." I voice smoothly. Rick turns and looks at me, his gaze swiftly dropping to the white strips on my nose. I look over his face, briefly noting the many white strips on his, and gaze over his eyes. His brow furrows in regret, but he quickly drops the look and stalks over to me.
Wordlessly, his arms go around my sides and pull me close to him. I return the hug contently, squeezing his middle just as tightly as he does mine.
"I'm sorry." He murmurs above me. "You know I wouldn't ever lay a finger on you on purpose. Ever."
"I know." I nod into his chest. I begin to pull away as my eyes go up to his. A cheeky smirk forms on my lips. "I'll get you back one a these days."
He gives a jerky nod, quirking the side of mouth up ever so slightly. "Sounds fine to me."
He and I stride over to Carl as I add, "But seriously, we should go to the meeting. They'll want to hear what we have to say." I stand next to Carl, leaning against the back of the sofa and crossing my arms comfortably.
"I can speak for the both of you there." Rick lightly argues. "You two can stay home."
"That's what it is now, right?" Carl asks. "Home?"
Is it? I think with trepidation. It sure feels like it now. I haven't felt like this since the prison.
Silently, Rick mulls it over and gives another nod. "Yeah."
"They need us." Carl says. I let out a small puff of air. Understatement of the year. "They'll die without us." I nod silently.
"I might have to... threaten one of them." Rick comments lowly. "I might have to kill one of them." He comes over to us quietly, gauging our reaction.
"You won't." Carl answers quickly.
"I might." Rick counters.
I shake my head. "That's a sure way to get us killed, sheriff. They don't understand what it's like out there. They don't get it in our terms. You said it yourself yesterday."
"You have to tell them." Carl says simply.
"Told 'em last night." Rick jerks his head over to me. Like I just said.
"You have to tell them so they can hear you." Carl corrects. I nod in agreement.
Rick sighs, looming down to our level. And he whispers out, "I don't know if they can."
And I understand what he's saying. It's difficult. I can barely stand in the same room as Ron and Mikey for that same reason.
"Does that make you two afraid?" Rick asks, switching his gaze between the two of us.
I shiver without thought. Yes, it does. How can anyone make it this far in the world, living like this? With some form of community, and not understanding life outside the walls? Without killing? Without feeling hunger and dehydration? They have no sense of true survival. Silently, I nod to Rick's question.
"Just for them." Carl answers truthfully. "You have to tell them. In a way they'll listen."
"It's the only way for them to make it." I say.
"I know." Rick agrees. He pulls away from the two of us, shuffling to the door. His bandaged hand is on the knob as he turns back to us. "Stay home tonight. I'll handle the meeting."
I sigh exasperatedly at the request. Bullshit, sheriff. Bullshit. As he opens the door and heads out I quietly follow. "Hey, sheriff." I call out as he begins a trek down the porch.
"Yeah?" He turns, resting his arm on the bars of the fence on one of the stairs.
"You're going to need to apologize to my mother." I say, fighting back a grin. "Next time you lay a hand on me will be the last time you have hands." He raises an eyebrow at my words.
"Not a threat." I raise my hands up in surrender. "Just a warning. Mom was very pissed when she find out." I drop my hands and trek backwards to the door.
"Maybe buy her a box of chocolate and some roses to smooth it over." I add quickly with a wink.
"Oh, ha ha." Rick rolls his eyes at my snide remark. I give a quick salute to him before opening the door behind me and sliding back in.
"Sooo," I drawl, looming over to Carl. "We're going to that meeting, right?"
He gives a quick nod in agreement. "Why did you even ask that? The answer is yes."
I give a quick chuckle and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Just making sure we're in agreement here."
By nightfall I'm wrapped in a jean jacket and huddled into Carl's side to block the wind. I'm freezing even though most of Team Family and a large chunk of Alexandria is standing by a large fire with us. Deanna stands by the head of the group, her hands deep in her pockets as she stares into the fire contemplatively. The rest of her family has yet to show up, along with a couple others from our group. I shiver uncontrollably as we wait. Stupid cold. Stupid wind. Why is it so freezing out?
"Carl? Alyssa?" A southern drawl calls from behind us. We turn, my side desperately clinging to Carls' body heat, and are visited by both Maggie and mom. I note that mom wears her constable outfit; hopefully an outward portrayal of her authority and loyalty to the town. Smart.
"Hiya." I offer a quick wave to them.
"I wasn't expecting Rick to let you two come along." Mom raises her eyebrow suspiciously.
I whistle nonchalantly at the thought. "Alyssa?" Her voices raises an octave higher.
"Okay, so maybe he didn't say yes." I respond. But before she says anything else I quickly add, "But we have every right to be here like you guys do. We take care of each other, don't we?" My eyes gleam up to her, waiting for her to resign and agree. "Then let us help." I wait for her response as she mulls it over. When she finally nods, I smile softly. "Thank you."
My eyes scan through the crowd, picking out our group. Abraham and Rosita stand away from the fire, apart from most of us. Eugene sits by himself, eyes away from everything but the fire. Carol, in her ugliest flower sweater and upturned collar combo, sits by a few of the older Alexandrian women, chirping animatedly about god knows what. A couple rows behind her I find Sam sitting by himself. I give a small two-finger salute to him. He returns it with a smile. Enid is by the back of the group, closer to the Monroe house instead of the fire. Poor thing wants as much space in between her and the rest of Alexandria as possible. I don't blame her. I give her a small salute in greeting as well.
I snuggle deeper into Carl's side, his arm going around my shoulder protectively as I shiver some more. Stupid cold. "Where's Glenn?" I ask Maggie. "And Rick?"
"I haven't seen 'em, but they'll be here." She responds confidently.
My head turns at the sound of footsteps, hoping it would be one of our group. However, the owner of the footsteps is Reg and Spencer. They go to Deanna, each giving her a quick hug as they take their places beside her.
"Shall we start?" Deanna hushes the group with the single sentence. Her tone is frigid; her stance stiff. It's a complete 180 from the person I met only a month ago.
"Can we wait a couple minutes?" Mom requests respectfully. "We still have a few people coming."
"Of course." Deanna nods. "A few more minutes."
And the group goes back to talking amongst themselves quietly while we wait. I don't enjoy the side-eye that some of the Alexandrians give to my group. Their prejudice rings loud and true as they give shifty glances to mom and Maggie. Of course, the two from our group put in power. They don't want us to have jack-shit, nevertheless a place with Deanna.
Though it's not all glares and anger. Eric gives us a kind smile as he passes by us and sits beside Sam. And Jessie gives an approving nod to our group. It must take a lot for her to side with us, considering Rick nearly killed her husband just yesterday. But who am I to judge? You do you, sweetheart.
After the group dies down and there are still no signs of Rick and Glenn showing, my worry begins to grow. Where are they? Picking out clothes and putting on make-up? C'mon, fellas.
Deanna quickly grows impatient at the long wait. After what feels like an hour, she announces, "We're going to start."
"Can we wait?" Maggie pipes up swiftly. "There's still people comin'. Glenn, Rick."
Deanna shakes her head, this time putting more force behind her words. "We're going to start." Ouch. "It's already dark."
"We're going to talk about what happened." Deanna begins. "Not the fight. Not what precipitated it. We're dealing with that. We're going to talk about one of our constables, Rick Grimes. We're going to talk about how he had a pistol he stole from the armory, about how he pointed it at people. And we're going to talk about what he said. I was hoping he'd be here."
"She said he's coming." Mom quickly defends.
"I'm sure he'll be here." Carol adds with her brightest smile. "And I'm sure we can work this all out."
"So, who wants to start?" Deanna asks the crowd. "I'm sure we all have a lot to say."
"Well," Jessie starts. She leans forward in her chair, quietly adjusting a strand of hair behind her ear with a shaky hand. "I'm sure Rick didn't mean what he said to us. It's all just a misunderstanding. The fight got out of hand, adrenaline was pumping. I mean, we all do stupid stuff when we're angry, right?" She looks to the crowd hopefully, finding a couple half-assed nods from her fellow townspeople.
"Quite frankly, I disagree." Sam shakes his head. The crowd turns to him, waiting for him to elaborate. He leans forward in his chair, using his hands to talk animatedly. "He knew exactly what he was saying. That's how you live outside the fence. Out there is, well, terrifying to say the least, and if you don't take control and do what needs to be done, people die. It's plain and simple. Rick and his family have lived out there. I have lived out there. We understand the harsh reality of it all."
All of our group nods with the statement. He quickly adds, "Rick wasn't right in making an ass of himself and pointing his gun around, but his words ring true."
"Exactly." Mom nods to Sam politely. "And after being out there, and then not being how you were out there... It can drive you crazy."
"It's a culture shock." I add. "We all went through it coming into these walls."
Mom nods to me before turning to Deanna. "Rick just wants his family to live. He wants all of you to live. Who he is, is who you're gonna be. If you're lucky."
The group seems against such words. No, they don't want to change. Not to be like him; to be like us. They would rather toss us out on the street and keep living their daydream rather than become what they need to be.
And I have an idea. I pull away from Carl and stand on my own, forgetting about the frigidness of the air. "With this talk of Rick Grimes," I start. All eyes turn to me. I try not to shy away from the glances. I need to be heard. "And who he is, I'm sure you're all wondering if he's even a good guy. It's a valid question on your side. You've only seen the man as wild and rabid." I will my voice to be louder as I straighten my back. "Well, I can tell you exactly who he is. Rick Grimes is one of the best men I know. And I can prove it." With their attention solely focused on me, I take a deep breath. "Let me tell you a story."
"Our group was split up for a while." I start, my eyes going over to the crowd and making eye contact with some of the Alexandrians. "We had just lost our home by the hands of another group. For a while, it was just me, mom, Carl, Rick, and Daryl." I think back to all those months ago. The memory is starting to get foggy. "We were ambushed in the middle of the night. Called themselves the Claimers. We were outnumbered. Two men, maybe three, were beatin' on Carl and Daryl. There was a gun on mom's head, one on Rick's head. The guy on me? He..." I involuntarily shiver at the thought of him.
Ah, shit. I haven't thought about this in so long. I feel disgusted, violated. Like his filthy hands are crawling all over me again.
Mom's hand goes to me shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts. Thank you. Willing myself to continue, to get it over with, I finish my thought. "He touched me in places that shouldn't be touched. He hurt me. Violated me. And Rick? He single-handedly took down that leader and saved us. He killed my molester without a second thought. And he held me as I cried until he knew I was okay." My eyes reach into Deanna's, hoping that she sees the good in Rick from my story. "He doesn't hurt others for the joy of it. He doesn't want to do it; but he protects his people, no matter the cost. That's what he wants you all to understand." Calling out to the crowd one last time, I say with as much conviction I can muster, "Rick Grimes, constable of Alexandria, is a good man. One of the best. He protects his family, and he wants to protect all of you, too. He just wants you to see that the way he does."
"It's true." Carol pipes in, taking the eyes off of me. Oh, thank god. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a second to breathe. I haven't thought about that day in a while. I hope I never have to think of it again.
"We all have that kind of story, being saved by Rick Grimes. He has saved my life, over and over again." Carol continues. "There's terrifying people out there. And he rescued me from them. Rescued all of us from them. People like me... People like us... We need people like him. I know what happened last night was scary, and I'm sure he's sorry for that. But maybe we should listen to what he was saying."
"Simply put," Abraham adds in, "there is a vast ocean of shit that you people don't know shit about. Rick knows every fine grain of said shit, and then some."
What a way with words, Abraham. Puts my speech to shame, I think with an inward giggle. He adds, "That man has earned my respect time and time again. He's trusted me even after I've done some stupid shit. With a man like that, who's saved our asses from the chopping block, it's hard not to trust that son of a bitch."
Maggie speaks up from behind me, snaking her way around and leaning to the Alexandrians. "My father respected Rick Grimes. Rick is a father, too."
Unconsciously my hand wraps around Carl's, giving it a squeeze. God, he must be going crazy with all this. He hasn't said a word since we left the house.
I listen as Maggie continues. "He's a man with a good heart, who feels the things he does, the things he has to do. And all of us, who were together before this place, no matter when we found each other, we're family now." Amen, Maggie. We've said it from the start. "Rick started that. And you won't stop it; you can't. And you don't want to. This community, you people... That family, you want to be a part of it, too."
"Before we hear from anyone else, I..." Deanna takes a deep breath, shaking her head as she walks closer to the fire. She rubs her hands nervously. "I would like to share something in the spirit of transparency."
Oh? Do tell.
"Father Gabriel came to see me the day before yesterday, and he said our new arrivals can't be trusted; that they were dangerous, that they would put themselves before this community."
That little weasel! How could he, after all the things we've done for him?
"And not one day later," Deanna continues, "Rick seemed to demonstrate all the things father Gabriel said. I had hoped Gabriel would be here tonight."
No, he wouldn't show his face to the group he back-talked about. He's a rat who scurries away at the first sign of trouble.
"I don't see him here, Deanna." Jessie points out. "So you're just repeating what someone said. Did you tape him?"
Deanna shakes his head. After Maggie quickly scans through the group, she look back to Deanna. "He's not here."
"Neither is Rick." Deanna counters. The two stare at each other intensely, gazes unwavering as their eyes connect.
Maggie pulls away first, turning away from the group and walking into the darkness. "Excuse me."
Where are you going?
"After, after hearing all that," an Alexandrian clad in a plaid shirt stands from his seat. I rack my brain to remember his name. Tobin, I think? "My thoughts are still the same. I just wanna keep my family safe. I don't even know what that means anymore, but if it means that we've got to get rid of- of-" he trails off as he looks the disapproving glares of Team Family. But it's not us that captures his full attention. No, it's the man hiding in the darkness, slowly walking to the fire.
Oh, god, Rick. Slung on his shoulder is the dead carcass of a walker, eyes completely exploded with gunk and bits of brain stuck to its hair. Rick doesn't look too good either. Blood covers most of his face, and his strands of curly brown locks stick to his forehead with sweat. Carl tightens his grip on my hand. I understand the emotion; Rick is not making this any easier.
With barely any force at all, Rick tosses the walker to the ground. Many women turn away from the body in disgust. They stand from their seats, taking quick strides to put distance between themselves and the body. I begin to think that some of them may even hurl. It's just a walker, guys. A dead one at that. Nothing to be afraid of. Is this the first time you've seen one?
"There wasn't a guard on the gate." Rick said simply. It's amusing how calm he sounds; his appearance makes him look wild, though his words dance easily off his tongue. "It was open."
Deanna looks accusingly to Spencer. He struggles out, "I-I asked father Gabriel to close it."
"Go." She demands. He scampers off quickly to the front of the town. Momma's boy is gonna get his ass handed to him when he gets back.
"I didn't bring it in." Rick announces to the crowd. Considering that's exactly what they're thinking, thank you for clearing that up. He goes to the middle of the group, right beside the enormous fire pit so he can be seen by everyone. "It got inside on its own. They always will." He turns to Deanna and Reg as the people quiet down, his words out for everyone to hear but specifically for the two leaders. "The dead and the living, because we're here. And the ones out there... They'll hunt us. They'll find us. They'll try to use us. They'll try to kill us."
The spark in his eyes is bright as he speaks. He's trying to get them to understand in their terms. Demonstration was used with the walker, but together it should be meaningful to them. "But we'll kill them. You'll survive. I'll show you how. Y'know, I was thinkin'... I was thinkin' how many of you do I have to kill to save your lives?" He pauses, looking to the crowd and gauging the reaction. It's not much of a welcomed threat, but transparency here is important. They should at least give him props for admitting it. "But I'm not gonna do that. You're gonna change. I'm not sorry for what I said last night. I'm sorry for not saying it sooner. You're not ready, but you have to be. Right now, you have to be. Luck runs out."
After saying his piece, he gives a firm nod to his speech all pulls away from the fire and Deanna. Rick seems to want to leave, and he begins a soft, slow stride back to the direction of the houses. As he turns away from the group, a low growl sounds from the darkness. "You're not one of us."
Stalking toward Rick's direction, a katana- mom's katana- swinging in hand, is Pete. He yells out again, "You're not one of us!"
"Pete!" Reg steps between Rick and Pete, holding his hand out to stop Pete from moving any closer. You wouldn't even get a bruise on Rick. You know you're outnumbered. One move and we all hound your ass. You'd be dead before you know it. "You don't wanna do this."
The rest of the town back away from Pete, fear and tension clearly set. Those from Team Family immediately straighten up, as does Sam, our memories of fighting flooding back into our minds. We know how to keep these people safe if Pete truly tries anything. Still, it doesn't hurt to take a few generous steps away from the lunatic with a weapon he doesn't even know how to wield.
"Get the hell outta my way, Reg." Pete shoves him away with his empty hand, and the sword swings upward, the blade dangerously close to Reg's face.
"Pete, just stop." Reg tries to calm the doctor down, edging his way closer while being cautious of the blade. He manages to get a hand on Pete's shoulder before being shoved off again.
"I said get the fuck away from me!" Pete furiously calls out, his hands shaking with complete rage. Jessie calls out to him, telling him to stop and to calm down. He doesn't take the request kindly. The katana tips over, closer to Reg's face. He's mad. And I mean the British version of the word. He's gone insane.
The next time Reg cautiously steps over to Pete is the last time he walks. The blade is pulled back down, intending to be by Pete's side. He forgets the fact that Reg is so close and the blade is so sharp. It slices through Reg's neck easily, like a knife through butter. The screams of the group fill my ears. It might be the first time watching someone die for them. It's not a pleasant thought.
Blood spews from Reg's neck as he gargles out for help. His hands desperately reaches to his neck, covering some of the wound as the red spills and squirts through his fingertips. He falls to the ground harshly, his eyes quickly losing their glow as he sputters out a, "Help!"
Deanna screams and drops to the ground beside his shaking body. Her arms cradle his form, pulling him into her lap as she openly weeps. "No! No, no, no!"
Abraham shoves Pete to the ground, straddling his back and holding his arms down forcefully. The katana clanks to the ground, forgotten by many as they all watch Reg fully pass away. They cry and scream with Deanna, horrified by the sight. I'm completely monotonous and my face is blank. This isn't new to me. Death is everywhere. Now they know.
"This is him!" Pete shouts accusingly to Rick on the ground.
"Shut up!" Abraham roughly shoves Pete's face into the gravel as the doctor cries out again.
"Oh, god!" Deanna cries as Reg convulses in her arms. The blood pools at his neck, spilling over himself and Deanna. "Oh, my love. My love, my love, no!"
Then he goes limp in her arms. His eyes, originally wide with fear, grow dull in just a second as his arms stop shaking. He's gone.
"This is HIM!" Pete screams from the ground. "This is him!" Rick eyes the newfound killer, his gaze controlled. He's not losing his temper tonight. Pete has already made it clear that he is unfit for this world.
Deanna looks up to Rick, her breathing slowed. "Rick..." She looks over to Pete on the ground. Her husband's killer. And in this moment she's finally realized how things are in this post-apocalyptic world.
Kill, or be killed.
"Do it."
Rick nods to the command, and in a split second he pulls a gun from his waistband and shoots Pete in the forehead. Some scream in the crowd. They're terrified. But they'll learn. They already are.
Welcome to the new world, Alexandria.
A/N: *Trumpet noise* Ba ba da daa! All done! Goodbye season five, hello season six! Tell me what you thought about it! Reviews and PMs are always welcome in my corner of the world. I promise I won't bite ;)