The slam of the door upstairs rang through the whole house. Rick had never seen Georgie angry before. Annoyed at the lack of privacy in their close quarters or sad at the loss of one of their group, but this silent, fuming anger was something completely foreign to him. Rick turned to his son as he stood in the living room.
"What the hell was that?" Rick asked, his voice was hushed but his tone was as strong as if he had yelled. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Rick," Michonne warned, her hand gently on his arm. Rick shook it off.
"I told you, I didn't have time to explain," Carl said.
"So you just drop that on her like that? On us?" Rick said. "We don't know what he'll do now."
"He left," Carl said. "He didn't kill anyone, he just left."
"He said he'd be back for our supplies, this didn't help," Rick said.
"She's been looking for her father since this all started and he's right there," Carl said. "I had to tell her, she deserved to know."
"You could have told us first, Carl," Michonne said.
"You didn't think," Rick said. "You didn't think this through. He's dangerous, we don't know what he'll do."
"She's his daughter, he doesn't want to hurt her," Carl argued.
"You don't know that, we've seen what kind of person he is," Rick said. "We don't know that he won't kill her. Or take her by force."
"He won't."
"You don't know."
"I do. He's only the way he is because he lost his kid, and now he has her again. What would you have done if you lost me?" Rick stared at Carl, their faces nearly level. Rick had noticed that his son had almost reached him in height in the last couple years, but it seemed so glaringly obvious now as they argued. "If you thought you were the reason I died? You'd never forgive yourself."
"I wouldn't kill people," Rick argued.
"You have killed people," Carl threw back. "I've seen you do it before."
Rick held his jaw tight. He had felt guilty enough about exposing Carl to the evils of this world, but to hear it from his son, to know that it had affected him in the way that Rick feared it had, made it all the worse. Carl held his father's gaze.
"I'm not saying Negan is a good guy," Carl said. "But maybe he could be."
After nearly a year with a gun strapped to his side, Rick felt naked without it, but also more free than he had in a long while. He hammered in another plank of what would soon be a pig pen. Many of the new comers at the prison had offered assistance in structuring their new home, but Rick had assigned them to cleaning up the cell blocks or building more walls inside. The pig pen was more of a distraction for himself that he hoped might take a while.
"How's it going, Pops?" Georgie asked, stepping over the planks of wood carefully.
"It's going," Rick said, standing up fully and stretching. "What are you doing out here? Thought you had some homework to do."
"Surprisingly, it doesn't take that long to learn how to amputate a limb," Georgie said. "You just tie and swing."
"We're in good hands," Rick laughed.
"I actually gotta ask you something," Georgie said. "You remember at the farmhouse, when you and Shane were planning on taking everyone to Fort Benning?"
Rick swallowed hard. He knew what she was talking about but he remembered the events a bit differently. He had a feeling he knew what Georgie was going to ask. "That was before we had a safe place here, right where we are."
"And that's great, for Carl and Judith. They'll have a nice place to grow up," Georgie said. "But when Fort Benning was still the plan, y'all said you'd take me as far north as you could."
"Georgie, I know what we agreed, but things have changed. There are walls here, we have a home. I can't take you."
"I'm not asking you to take me anywhere," Georgie said. "I talked it over with Daryl. He said as long as you said yes, he and Michonne would take me north."
Rick looked up to the gated courtyard, finding Daryl holding Judith while subtly watching over Rick and Georgie's conversation. He knew Daryl wasn't one to give orders, even if he wanted to tell the girl no as well.
"I know what you're going to say," Georgie said. "But they wouldn't be taking me all the way. Just as far north as their search takes them and then we'd just find me a working vehicle and I'd go from there."
"You want to go to Virginia by yourself?"
"I'm sure I'd find someone on the way."
"You don't even know where your father is," Rick said. "If he's even still alive-,"
"I know he's still alive," Georgie corrected. "Me asking is just a courtesy. I don't need Daryl to take me, I can go by myself from the get go. I need to find my dad."
Rick stood with his hands on his hips, looking down on the girl. When they had met, she was throwing up on the side of the farmhouse after helping Hershel clean Carl's gunshot wound. Now, she stood firmly in front of him, blood on her flannel shirt from her lessons and she didn't even seem to notice. She had his back in more than a handful of sticky situations, taking out her share of walkers. He had no doubt that she could handle herself on her own, but he wasn't sure he wanted her to.
"You're safe here," Rick said.
"What if it was Carl?" Georgie asked.
"I don't need to imagine it's Carl, Georgie," Rick said. "You're part of this family too. I know I'd rather have you safe here, even if it's not with me than out there alone on the road looking for me. And I know your dad would agree."
The gates opened for the Saviors, the setting sun casting the van in an appropriately menacing red glow. Georgie stood beside Michonne, both of them hanging behind Rick, having come out as soon as the guards alerted them.
Once, in high school, Georgie had snuck out and been caught by the sheriff with her shirt off in the backseat of some boy from history class's Dodge Charger. Sitting in the police station afterwards was the only time in her life she had genuinely feared seeing her father until now. Back then, all she was afraid of was him grounding her until she turned eighteen. The father she had known had never mercilessly bludgeoned someone to death, no matter what he had said to the boy from her history class. She knew her father better than anyone else in her life, but she had no idea what Negan was capable of.
"Why don't they have the big truck?" Michonne asked from the corner of her mouth, her eyes not moving from Negan.
"He said he'd be back for his shit," Georgie said. Michonne's gaze flicked to Georgie for the briefest moment. Michonne tensed up, moving slightly in front of Georgie, clearly having the same worry Georgie had: Negan hadn't meant supplies.
The van pulled to a stop a few yards ahead of them but no one made a move. Finally, Negan exited from the passenger seat. He didn't have his bat or even a gun at his side as he moved to the front of the van.
"Georgia, come on up here," Negan said, waving her forward. She could count on one hand all the times her father had called her by only her first name in her life. She looked up at Rick.
"You can go," Rick nodded.
Negan laughed but it held no humor. "You asking him for permission?"
Georgie stepped up passed Rick and Michonne but still didn't get within arms reach of Negan. "He's done right by me so far."
Negan ducked his head, making a face as if Georgie had turned the knife that was embedded in his back. "I've tried to do right by you."
"Save it, I'm not having this conversation with you," Georgie said. Before, Georgie handled her fear much like she handled anything else in her life: crying and asking her father for help. Now, she stood her ground, her fear bubbling into anger with each moment she stared at the man who wore her father's face but felt like a stranger.
Negan's jaw hardened as he looked up at her. "I know what you think of me right now, but you don't know everything, sweetheart."
"I know what I need to," Georgie said. "Why are you here?"
"Said I'd be back."
"We don't have any more supplies for you right now," Rick said. "If you give us a few more days-,"
"I don't need my shit," Negan said, his tone turning angry in a snap as he looked at Rick. "I'm here to give you something." His gaze shifted back to Georgie.
"I don't need anything from you," Georgie said, her arms crossed.
"You're gonna want this," Negan said. He motioned to the big man sitting in the passenger seat of the van. He got out, going to open the doors of the back. Georgie's snarky comment caught in her throat as the man half dragged, half carried a crumpled figure out to the front of the van.
Georgie rushed forward, taking Daryl into her arms. He grumbled something about it not being as bad as it looked as she let him slowly sink to the ground with her. She held him to her, checking over the archer's swollen features. He had only been in Negan's captivity for three days, but he looked much more worse for ware. Georgie looked up at Negan in disgust.
"A gesture of good will," He said, looking down at her.
"Good will, my ass."
"I didn't have to release him."
"You didn't have to take him prisoner either," Georgie said. "I've seen roadkill look better. What did you do to him?"
"He killed my men," Negan said. "I can't just let that slide. I'm doing this for you, Georgia."
"Excuse me if I don't exactly fall over myself with gratitude," Georgie said. Negan towered over her as she sat on the ground with Daryl's head weakly on her shoulder, but Georgie's anger radiated the power of someone three times her size. "Thank you for beating and starving my friend. Is that what you want me to say?" Negan stared back at her, looking as if he had something he wanted to say but he gritted his teeth against it. "Those men you killed? They were my friends, my family. I'd be dead without them. Without Rick and Michonne. They've taken care of me this whole time. You threaten them, you threaten me."
Almost as if she hadn't said anything at all, Negan turned on Rick. "You tell her this?"
"He didn't tell me anything," Georgie protested.
"She joined us, we look out for our own," Rick said.
"I don't need you taking care of my girl," Negan said. "Turning her against me."
"You're the only one turning me against you, Negan," Georgie said.
"Don't call me that," Negan snapped. The name he chose for himself, the one that gave him all the power he had now, sounded perverse coming from his daughter's mouth.
"You don't get both," Georgie said. "And you already chose. Now go. Come back for your shit next week, like you planned. We'll have it."
Negan wanted to argue more. He wanted to tell her how broken he was when that news report showed her plane, the plane he told her to get on, crashed, leaving no survivors. He wanted to tell her how he had a gun in his mouth until he heard a cry for help. He wanted to tell her how when that survivor asked his name, he couldn't even bring himself to say the words "John Campbell", he wanted to tell her he just pulled the name from a nearby street sign just so he could be someone who didn't want to die, someone who could take care of people, someone who didn't let his own daughter die.
Instead, he left.