A/N:So... I know it's been a while. Believe me it wasn't intentional. To make up for it, this chapter is a behemoth. Seriously, it's nearly twice the length of my previous chapters.
There's a lot going on here, with many of our characters meeting for the first time, and more details of the missing person's case being unfolded.
As always, your reviews are what keep me going, so thank you.
Enjoy!
Michonne gasped in surprise, bracing her hands on the wall in front of her as she was pressed against it. Strong hands gripped her sides, roughly yanking up the fabric of her printed dress to grope the flesh underneath.
"You knew this would happen..."
Her knees involuntarily buckled at the husky whisper, hot and heavy against her ear.
"Did I?" she returned in a tone that suggested she very much did.
Rick pressed his lips to her neck, nodding against her. "You knew the minute you put on this dress," he murmured, nibbling at her skin.
She reached a hand up to caress his hair as she craned her neck to see him, blinking innocently. "I have no idea what you mean, love."
It was a bold face lie, of course. She was keenly aware of how insatiable her husband became whenever she donned something as conveniently accessible as the ankara maxi dress she wore now.
There was something about being able to divest her of the material with little effort, it was more than enough to get him going.
That was the case even with their children running around, and more guests on the way.
This time, he caught her coming in from the patio, whisking her inside the pantry while the kids were preoccupied outside.
"Our guests will be arriving soon," she reasoned, just so she could say that she tried.
"We'll cut the foreplay, then," he murmured, against her skin as he hiked her dress up completely. He used his fingers to gently push aside the thin fabric of her panties, toying with the sensitive softness he found there. He used his index and middle finger to slip inside, teasing her until his digits were slick and she was grinding against them.
He used his free hand to unbutton his jeans and Michonne giggled at his haste to get them undone. The light sound that deepened into a moan when he removed his fingers and promptly filled her from behind.
Rick bit his lip to contain himself from vocalizing his satisfaction, as he stayed there for a minute.
Michonne wound her hips in a small circle. "Time's of the essence," she reminded him.
Rick ground against her, and Michonne dropped forehead to the wall. "What was that?" he asked in a gravelly tone.
"Get to work, Grimes," she breathed in return.
Rick smirked, bracing his hands on her hips as he withdrew slightly only to push into her again with a thrust that pushed her onto her tiptoes. His cadence was deliberate as he was determined to make the most of the little time they had.
Michonne arched her back, grinding her hips against him to match his stroke. While Rick reached up to bury his fingers in her hair, twisting them around her locks, angling her face for a wet kiss.
She moaned into kiss, reaching a hand back to rake her fingers through his hair. His arms tightened around, tearing away from her delicious lips to bury his face in her shoulder before he could lose control too soon.
"Shit, Rick," Michonne cried. She was practically off the floor as he hammered up into her. Household items began to shake on the shelves around them as he picked up the pace. He pressed kisses to the side of her face and neck, as her breathing became more and more erratic.
She was close, and so was he. And a good thing too, Rick knew he would need to wrap things up before their children got suspicious. So he braced a hand on the wall in front of them, angling his hips slightly to hit the spot he knew so well.
It worked like a charm. Michonne exhaled a soundless gasp, arching through the wave of her orgasm as her grip tightened in his hair.
Rick soon followed, burying his face in her shoulder as his hips bucked forward with his own. The small space intensified the sound of their breathing as it slowly returned to normal.
Michonne leaned back against him, giggling as she scratched his scalp. "You're unbelievable," she whispered with a smile, craning her neck to face him.
"You knew this would happen," he reminded her, then covered her lips with his in a sweet kiss.
He slowly, reluctantly pulled away from her, squeezing her ass once more before allowing her dress to fall back in place.
Michonne slowly turned, watching as Rick adjusted himself. "Think you can behave now?" she asked with a smirk.
He flashed her grin of his own. "For now," he said, reaching for her, "we'll see how long it lasts."
Michonne hummed, bringing her hands up to comb his hair back with her fingers. Rick leaned forward to steal another kiss but the sound of their doorbell interrupted her before he could.
"Time's up," she murmured, toying with the curls at the base of his neck.
Rick pressed a quick kiss to her lips as he reached behind him to open the pantry door, then leaned out to see if anyone was around. He could hear their children out on the deck, just beyond the kitchen but otherwise, the coast was clear.
He tugged Michonne behind him, clandestinely stepping out the pantry and into the kitchen. Michonne squeezed his fingers before disappearing up the kitchen stairs to freshen up while Rick made his way to the sink to wash his hands before going to answer the door.
It was still too early for guests to arrive, but judging from the repetitive ringing of the bell, he correctly assumed it was one of his extended family members arriving early.
He opened the door and Lucy sailed through. "Hi Uncle Rick!" she greeted in her sing-song voice, excitedly rushing inside.
Maggie breezed in behind her with Hershel in tow, and Glenn brought up the rear carrying a large bag of ice under one arm and a two bottles of wine in the other.
"Just in time," Rick said, taking the ice from his friend as he crossed the threshold.
"We would've been here sooner," Maggie started, "but, we ran into traffic getting Daddy to the airport."
Rick raised an eyebrow as he closed the door. "I'm surprised he picked Labor Day weekend to visit Beth. With all those college parties going on, he may not see her much."
"We're pretty sure Beth is just his cover story, at this point," Glenn quipped over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen.
Rick shook his head as he laughed softly as he followed after them. "He's not being very subtle, is he?"
Maggie shook her head with a grin. "I think he knows we're on to him."
They made their way onto the deck and were met with a chorus of familiar greetings as the Rhees' entered the fray.
Hershel and Lucy promptly took off down the deck stairs to meet RJ and Maya in their treehouse in the yard. They narrowly avoided a collision with Judith as she ascended because her nose was unsurprisingly buried behind the lens of a camera.
"Watch your step, sweetheart," Rick reminded her, gently pushing the camera down from her face as she passed him. He sat the bag of ice down on the patio bar, then turned his attention to Carl and Andre, who he had tasked with firing up the grill. "How's it going?" he asked, nearing them.
Carl lifted his head with a sheepish grin. "Uh...it's going."
Rick arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning, Carl has no idea what he's doing," Andre snorted from his perch on the deck ledge.
Rick shook his head, nudging Carl aside to turn on the gas valve on the propane tank underneath the grill.
Carl scratched the back of his neck, huffing a laugh. "Oh."
Rick rolled his eyes while Andre laughed.
"Now, how long were out here trying to figure that out?" Maggie asked as she settled onto the curved lounge sofa nestled inside the alcove of the deck.
"You don't wanna know," Andre muttered, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
"You weren't much help either," Carl returned, side-eyeing his brother.
"Hey, I offered the YouTube tutorial," Andre reminded him, waving his cell phone in the air.
"It's a gas grill, son," Rick sighed, scratching his brow, "you need the gas on for it to work."
"And, now I know," Carl returned with an easy smile, causing Maggie to laugh while Andre and Rick looked on with varying levels of chagrin.
Judith snorted as she took a seat next to Maggie. "Was it the best idea to leave Carl in charge of the grill?" she posed to her father.
Maggie smirked and nudged her chidingly. "Be nice."
"I'd rather be honest," Judith replied with a shrug, causing the older woman to snort lightly under her breath, conceding her point.
Glenn chuckled as well, having overheard her remark as he rounded the patio bar to dump the ice into its cooler. When he pulled up, he spotted Michonne descending from the kitchen stairs through the adjacent window, and picked up the wine bottles he bought to deliver them to her personally.
"Two bottles of Rioja, as requested," he announced, holding up the bottles for her inspection as he stepped through the patio screen.
She looked up from the pitcher of sangria in front of her to give him a subtle once over, and hummed noncommittally. "Surprised you remembered," she said dryly.
Glenn arched an eyebrow as he approached the island counter. "Surprised you care, after you nearly sabotaged me being here today," he returned evenly.
Michonne tossed him a questioning look. "I did no such thing."
"So, you didn't invite Pete Anderson over?" he asked, leaning on the island counter.
She blinked at that. "What's my neighbor got to do with anything?"
"He works at Atlanta General, he also happens to be my shift relief," Glenn told her, "I had to bribe another doctor to cover us both."
Michonne winced sympathetically, "I'm sorry, I had no idea."
Glenn dismissed her apology with a shrug. "Don't be, I'd usually tell you these things but-"
"But, you've been MIA," Michonne finished with a nod.
"Things should be going back to normal, for now at least," Glenn said with a huff, then he nodded to her switch a teasing smirk, "as long as you don't try and subvert me again."
Michonne shrugged. "Oh, I don't know, I was this close to putting out an ad for a new friend," she said nonchalantly, pinching her index finger and thumb together, "someone who actually responds to my texts," she added, and Glenn dropped his head in chagrin.
"I do respond," he refuted weakly.
"Hours, sometimes days later," Michonne deadpanned as she continued to stir her mixture.
Glenn lifted his eyes to hers, finding humor in them. "Hey, I got you your wine, didn't I?"
She snorted and nodded. "You did, and thank you."
Glenn shrugged off her gratitude since it wasn't necessary. "I was surprised when I heard you invited Pete. He doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who enjoys things like this," he added, diplomatically.
"I was being neighborly," she explained, "Aaron and Eric and the Fords are coming, it would've been rude not to invite the neighbors next door."
"Has Rick met him yet?" Glenn asked curiously, turning his gaze to his friend outside.
Michonne thought about that, then shook her head. "I don't think so. He mentioned meeting his wife while they were moving in, but that was it."
"Well, this should be interesting," Glenn said dryly.
Michonne set her stirring ladle aside and reached over to retrieve a few of the disposable cups stacked on the counter. "Don't worry, he'll play nice."
"He's not the one I'm worried about," he muttered in return.
Michonne lifted her eyes to him, curiously. "You're worried about Pete?"
"I don't really know him," Glenn admitted, having no logical explanation for his angst. "He's more of the silent, brooding type."
"Maybe he'll let loose outside of his scrubs," Michonne offered, pouring a cup of the now ready sangria and sliding it to him.
Glenn snorted. "Peace offering?"
"Take it however you want," she replied, pouring another for herself then two more cups for their spouses outside.
Someone turned on the Bluetooth speaker outside, and a Maze and Frankie Beverley classic started to drift inside the kitchen.
Michonne's expression as her eyes lit up in recognition, and with a cup in each hand she started to make her way back outside in time to the rhythm of the music. Glenn chuckled, following her out in time to see Andre slide across the deck with flourish, lip-syncing in time with the lyrics as they began.
You make me happy,
This you bet...
You stood right beside me,
And, I won't forget...
Michonne set her drinks on the nearby patio bar, and took her son's hands in an impromptu dance.
Glenn felt a nudge on his shoulder and turned to see Maggie holding out her hand to him, and with a grin he sat their cups aside, allowing his wife to pull him onto the 'dance floor' as well.
And I really love you,
You should know...
I wanna make sure I'm right, girl,
Before I let go...
Rick wandered over from the grill, and intercepted his son to steal his wife away. He tossed Andre a smirk as he pulled a giggling Michonne towards him.
Infallible as always, Andre was just as content two-stepping and lip-syncing in between the dancing couples.
The commotion soon drew the attention of the younger children from the treehouse. Maya and Lucy laughingly stampeded into the space, rushing to intercept their respective parents. While RJ and Hershel joined Andre, mimicking his dance moves with much less coordination.
Carl joined Judith at the edge of the deck as she filmed the scene from her perch on the ledge. "Always behind the scenes, huh, Judes?" he teased, nudging her lightly.
Judith pulled her camera down and snorted, "You're one to talk, I don't see you busting any moves."
Carl was not normally one for dancing, but he liked teasing his little sister more so grabbed her by the hand and pulled her onto the floor behind him. Taken by surprise as she suddenly found herself in the middle of everything, Judith could only laugh.
As the song hit its infamous crescendo, they all sang along, even the little ones who hardly knew the words before they all dissolved into laughter.
I can't let you go,
Before I know...
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Holden," Carol apologized as she entered the interrogation room.
She carried two steaming cups of coffee in her hands, and placed one in front of the somber young woman seated at the metal table in the sparse room.
"Just Amy, please," she returned, nodding her thanks as she reached for the cup Carol placed in front of her.
"Forgive me, Amy," Carol corrected with a smile, easing down into the chair opposite of her.
Amy Holden was the younger sister of Andrea Holden. She, along with her parents, had flown down from Boston just hours after learning of Andrea's disappearance.
Carol sympathized with the Holden family, not knowing if they would ever see their loved one again was a unfathomable kind of torture.
This time, Amy was not accompanied by her parents. Perhaps the reality was starting to set in that their daughter may not return to them alive.
One of the hardest parts of Carol's job was helping a victim's family navigate their expectations of the case. While she was nowhere near ready to give up on the investigation, she had no new information to offer either.
She could also tell Amy was only hanging on by thread, so she would need to tread lightly.
"As I mentioned over the phone, we're in the process of pursuing several different leads, but at this time-"
"That's not why I'm here," Amy rushed to say, her grip around the coffee cup tightening slightly.
Carol blinked, observing the young woman carefully, "Oh?"
Amy shook her head. "I think...I think I may know something that could help," she started, slowly, "with the case, I mean."
That piqued Carol's interest. Amy had been interviewed along with her parents shortly after they arrived in Atlanta. Carol sat in on the interviews herself.
The family's story remained consistent; Andrea had lived in the Atlanta-metro area for years before moving back to her hometown in Boston almost a decade ago. She had recently decided to return to Atlanta for work, and had only been in the city for a month before she was apprehended.
Her parents and sister appeared to be genuinely distraught over Andrea's disappearance, so there was no reason to suspect they would withhold information that could further the case. But, as she took in the woman in front of her, Carol realized that may have been oversight.
"I'm listening."
Amy's fingers nervously tapped the exterior of her cup as she stared down into the dark liquid to avoid Carol's piercing gaze. She glanced over her shoulder at the two-way mirror, then back down at the cup with even more morose.
Carol observed her behavior curiously, becoming more and more certain that the other woman was holding onto something potentially valuable.
"Amy, if you know something, it's in your sister's best interest that you tell me," she said, softly but urgently.
"I know...but I also know how it will sound, and..." Amy whimpered, swiping her face, "with all the media involved..."
Her words were broken and incoherent, but Carol was filling in what blanks she could.
From what she could tell, the information Amy withheld may not have painted her sister in the best light. If that was the case, then given the public interest around Andrea's disappearance, Carol could understand her hesitancy. But time was of the essence.
"The most important thing right now is finding your sister," she told her.
Amy inhaled slowly and lifted her eyes to Carol. She stared at her for several moments before dropping her gaze again. "When Andrea first moved back home, she told our parents it was for work, but it wasn't...she was seeing someone."
Carol purposefully kept her face neutral, although inwardly she was shocked at the revelation.
"I don't know all the details," Amy hurried to say, "but I know it didn't end well, that's why she moved back home."
"Married?" Carol guessed.
Amy jerked her head in a nod. "I told her it was a bad idea, but she really liked him."
"You said it ended badly," Carol prompted with a nod, "how so?"
Amy sniffled as she pulled back, rolling her eyes up towards the ceiling. "She found out she was pregnant, it wasn't long after that she moved back home."
Carol frowned as she listened to this story. It was a huge missing puzzle piece, and she was struggling to understand why Amy would sit on it until now. Did Andrea's propriety mean more to them than her life?
"I understand you wanting to protect your sister's reputation, but why didn't you tell us this sooner?" Carol asked, unable to come up with a logical explanation.
Amy lifted her eyes, maintaining eye contact for the first time since Carol entered the room. "Because, she was having an affair with Philip Blake."
It was like someone scratched a record.
Everything stood still, frozen in place by the mere utterance of that name and Carol's carefully placed façade momentarily slipped.
Amy's brows wrinkled together. "Detective?"
"How long were your sister and Philip Blake involved?" Carol asked, snapping her eyes back to Amy.
"Um...a year or so, I think." she stuttered, taking off guard by Carol's sudden change in demeanor.
"And this was how long ago?"
"Eight years ago," she recalled softly, "but like I said, I don't know all the details...or if he was even involved in what happened, I mean it was so long ago, I just thought..." she trailed off, bringing a hand up to push her hair back from her face, "maybe it could help."
"What happened with the pregnancy?" Carol pressed, noticing that part of the story was missing.
Amy sniffled and shook her head. "She wouldn't talk about it. When she never started to show I assumed she..." she trailed off again, but Carol didn't need her to finish, she got the picture.
"I know this is difficult, but you did the right thing telling me," she said, reaching across the table to cover Amy's hands with hers.
Amy exhaled before tentatively asking. "Will it help?"
Carol didn't want to lie to her, but there was no way she could know. For now, she could only offer her the truth. "It's more than we had before."
Bram Ford burst through the Grimes backyard at full speed. He could hear RJ and Hershel's voices from the treehouse, and wasted no time leaving his family behind in favor of their company.
His mother, Ellen, shook her head in dismay as she entered the yard behind him. "Bram, slow down!" she called out, but the boy was long gone. She turned with the intention of asking her daughter, Becca, to keep an eye out for her brother, but the teenager had disappeared as well.
Ellen found her easily enough, in the cabana under the deck where the older kids had gathered.
"Leave 'em be, El," her husband suggested as he lumbered up the deck stairs, "for a few blessed hours, they ain't our problem, so I suggest you not look a gift horse in the mouth."
"The boy needs home training, Abraham," she maintained, following after him.
"And what I need is a cold beer and a steak, medium rare. Hope you got them ready, Rick, because I have worked up a sweat hauling my ginger ass over here," Abraham barked as he marched onto the deck.
Rick laughed from his place by the grill. "Almost done," he called over his shoulder.
Daryl snorted beside him as he took a swig from his beer bottle. "Might be better off with a salad, if the walk over did you in."
Abraham threw him a dark look. "Now, that damn near blasphemous, Dixon."
Ellen shook her head, exhaling as she settled onto the patio sofa between a laughing Michonne and Maggie. "The closest thing to a salad that man is going to touch is the garnish you put on that steak."
Abraham nodded in agreement as he looked over at the women. "Is your old man around?" he asked Maggie, "I've been itching to get a rematch of our last Spades game."
"Why, so you can get set again?" Sasha scoffed, emerging up the deck stairs with Jesus, Aaron, and Eric in tow.
"We did not get set," Abraham argued as he turned on her.
Sasha snorted, folded her arms over her chest. "That's not how I remember it."
"Sorry to disappoint you, Abraham," Maggie inserted with a light laugh, "but Daddy snuck off to the sunshine state to visit his girlfriend."
"Hershel has a girlfriend?" Jesus asked, raising his eyebrows as he joined them by the sofa.
"We suspect," Rick corrected without looking up from the grill.
Maggie rolled her eyes. "We know," she returned, looking at Jesus pointedly.
"Who is it?" Eric pressed, settling down for the gossip. Aaron was just as curious, easing down on the arm rest beside him.
"Rick's mama," Michonne revealed with a smirk.
Everyone except for Michonne, Maggie, and Glenn turned to Rick in surprise.
"I, for one, think it's cute," Maggie said with a smile, "he was so excited when we took him to the airport. I mean, I know he misses Beth, but he wouldn't buy new cologne for her."
The others laughed while Rick shook his head.
"Speaking of the guestlist," Jesus started, leaning over to catch Michonne's eye, "Is Dr. Jekyll lurking around anywhere?"
Michonne exhaled a laugh. "Not you, too," she returned, shaking her head.
Jesus looked over at Glenn, who was currently acting their bartender behind the patio bar. "Good, so you warned her, then?"
Glenn shrugged as he shook a mixing canteen. "I said he's not the social type."
"An understatement, to say the least," Jesus muttered with disdain.
"Who are we talking about?" Sasha questioned as she took a seat on one of the barstools.
"One of the doctors that recently started the AG also happened to just move in next door to Rick and Michonne," Glenn explained.
"He's rude, not to mention condescending, even for a doctor" Jesus reiterated, "no offense," he tossed at Glenn who shrugged, unphased.
"The man ain't even here, and you're dragging him through the mud," Daryl scoffed, leaning back against the ledge.
"You haven't met him yet," Jesus maintained warily.
"Is it too late to rescind the invite?" Sasha asked, unsure she wanted to meet the man at all.
Michonne exhaled a laugh. "That would be rude."
Sasha rolled her eyes. "Lucky for Dr. Asshole, you're the nice one."
Abraham chuckled under his breath as he neared Rick. "May want to warn the poor man he's gonna be walking into the belly of the beast with this crowd."
"I met the wife, she didn't seem so bad," Rick offered, unable to speak to the man he had never met.
Jesus wrinkled his nose, distastefully. "Some poor woman is actually married to that man?"
"With kids," Michonne supplied much to his horror.
"Well that is just tragic," Jesus murmured.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Ellen said lightly, waving a dismissive hand, "he can't be all that bad."
"The fact that he's at the hospital at all, is enough for me," Maggie inserted, smiling over at Glenn, "thanks to him, my kids get to spend more than five minutes with their daddy before bed."
"Sounds like mommy's been getting some extra time in daddy, too," Ellen said with a knowing smirk.
"Well, of course, there's that," Maggie laughed in return.
Jesus sighed, shaking his head. "At least you don't have to work with the man."
"Come on, Paul, let's get you a drink," Aaron suggested, pushing to his feet as he placed a hand on Jesus' shoulders to stir him towards the bar, "you're nicer when you're less sober."
"Make it a double," Jesus returned, allowing Aaron to guide his steps.
Michonne laughed with the others, thinking her friend's dismay was an exaggeration. But, she also knew Jesus wasn't the judgmental type. As she thought back to her earlier conversation with Glenn, she wondered if there was some truth to what her friends were saying.
If the Andersons decided to take them up on their invitation, she would soon find out.
She glanced over at Rick, who was laughing at something Abraham had just told him. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he turned, and winked at her.
Michonne smiled in return, feeling herself relax at the simple gesture and returned her attention to the conversation around her.
"Good afternoon, Detective."
Carol lifted her eyes from her cell phone towards the paltry man approaching her from across the opulent hotel lobby.
In a former life, Milton Mamet made a reputation for himself as a Philip Blake's personal yes-man, these days he fancied himself of a higher rank judging by the proud way he rounded his shoulders in his ill-fitting suit.
"Mamet," Carol said as she pocketed her cell, uninterested in exchanging pleasantries.
Milton chuckled lightly as he came to a stop in front of her. "You haven't changed much, I see," he replied, removing his glasses to wipe them with a handkerchief. "I would have thought you would be the last person to want to question Mr. Blake about something as ridiculous as this."
"Oh, come now," Carol chided lightly, fixing him with an innocent look. "You know as well as I do how badly he should want to set the record straight."
Milton narrowed his eyes slightly, knowing she had a point. "That is the only reason he agreed to entertain this meeting," he sniffed as he turned on his heel.
Carol wordlessly followed behind him with a smug smirk in place.
He led her across the lobby and into a hallway, stopping in front of a private banquet room. He opened one of the double doors, and gestured for her to enter.
Carol looked over the room, and inwardly sighed. She was greeted by the sight of a large red, white, and blue banner posted in the back of the room behind a podium that read Philip Blake for Governor, the Right Choice At the Right Time. There were several dozen tables neatly set with buttons displaying a version of the same message.
"Mr. Blake will be with you shortly," Milton said before pulling the door closed, leaving her alone in the room.
She had never been interested in politics, herself. It was a rat race for some of the most deplorable kinds of people in her opinion. Being surrounded by Philip Blake's campaign paraphernalia only furthered her ill sentiment.
The banquet doors reopened then, and man of the hour casually strolled inside.
"Officer Peletier," he greeted charmingly, extending his hand as he neared her. "How long has it been?"
Carol eyed him carefully, not bothering to return the gesture. "It's Detective now," she corrected.
"It seems we've both moved up in the world since we last met," Philip laughed lightly, pulling back his hand. He unbuttoned his sports coat with one hand and pulled out a chair at a nearby table with the other, then gestured for Carol to have a seat as well.
Carol eased down across from him, watching with practiced patience as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee as if he didn't have a care in the world.
"I was hoping to ask you a few questions," she began, wanting to get right to it.
"About the missing person's case," he said with a nod, "I've been following it somewhat in the news, it's terrible."
"Did you know Andrea Holden?" she asked.
Philip nodded again. "Yes, but you already knew that."
"What was the nature of your relationship?" she pressed, ignoring his implication.
Philip sighed, shifting slightly in his chair. "I met Andrea years ago, during a troubling time in my marriage."
"An affair."
Philip pressed his lips at her flat tone, but eventually conceded. "Not one of my proudest moments."
Carol pushed past his understatement, wanting to stay on task. "How long were you and Ms. Holden involved?"
Philip titled his head up as if he were thinking. "Andrea and I had a casual relationship that carried on for a year, more or less," he eventually said.
"You were seeing her for a year, and you consider that a casual relationship?" Carol asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I won't speak for Andrea, but from my perspective it was never serious," he reiterated, slowly shaking his head.
Carol tilted her head, considering him. "How did it end?"
Philip sighed, creasing his brow as if the answer almost pained him to say. "I broke it off. I wanted to repair my marriage."
That was curious because according to Amy, Philip had broken up with Andrea upon learning she was pregnant. With no way to confirm the truth, Carol would hold on to that information for now.
"How did Andrea take the break up?" she asked.
Philip shrugged. "I really couldn't tell you, after our conversation she just left. That was the last time I saw her."
Carol squinted her eyes. "Can anyone corroborate your story?" she asked, suspecting she already knew the answer.
"Milton oversaw my appointments back then, he was also in the office when she came that evening. He can support my statement," Philip said confidently. "It is tragic what happened to Andrea, and my sympathies go out to her family. I truly wish there was something more I could give you."
"Did you ever tell your wife any of this?" Carol asked, taking his nice words for a grain of salt.
Philip's expression was one of practiced chagrin. "This may surprise you, Detective, but yes, I did. It was a very difficult conversation, but at the end of the day my Lilly understood that our family comes first."
His hypocrisy was enough to almost make Carol physically ill. The man had not changed at all, he continued to gaslight others around him while he emerged every time, unscathed.
"You know, Detective," he started, shifting to lean in, "I'm being candid with you in anticipation of your discretion. I have been forthright about my relationship with Ms. Holden, but I expect this conversation not to leave this room."
The corner of Carol's lips lifted in a small smirk. He was more concerned with his political reputation than he was with the life of another human being. "I'll need a statement from Mamet, corroborating that evening's events," she said, not bothering to dignify his remark with a direct response.
Philip considered her for a moment longer, then exhaled as he pushed back from the table to stand. "Certainly, I'll go get him for you," he replied in the same charming tone often used in public.
"I'll come with you," she said, standing as well.
Philip motioned for her to lead the way.
Carol knew Milton Mambet would likely be prepared with a matching statement. As an eyewitness, his testimony would dismiss the concerns of a grieving sister who was hundreds of miles away at the time of the events.
Taking this route would not yield any more useful information. But, that didn't matter because Philip had unknowingly provided Carol with her next lead.
If he really did tell his wife about his relationship with Andrea, then perhaps she had another perspective on how things ended between them. The way Philip neglected to mention anything about Lilly Blake's reaction to his year-long affair, led her to believe there was more to the story he intentionally left out.
And then, there was the matter of the alleged pregnancy.
But, she would also need to proceed with caution. After all, she had barked up this tree before and it led to nothing but shame and humiliation for the victim.
This time, it could cost someone's life.
"Why don't you just kill me?"
Pete lifted his eyes from his notes in front of him, turning in his seat. "Is that what you want?" he asked in return.
Andrea rested her head back against the cold metal bars of her cage. "I want to be free, but I don't think that's in the plan, is it?"
"You were free," Pete reminded her, turning back to his desk.
"No," Andrea exhaled with a humorless laugh, "I wasn't."
Her dull eyes wandered from him to the operating table, taunting her in the middle of the dimly lit room.
After the surgery, she was certain she would die on that table. She felt every cut, every stitch, and every suture. She knew nothing beyond the pain, it was unlike anything she had ever experienced. But, the worst part was not knowing what exactly he did to her.
While she recuperated from the procedure, Pete had decreased the dosage of her suppressants. Over the last few days, she slowly regained some control of her body. Still, even the simple act of talking was a taxation she wasn't sure she could afford.
Had he continued to drug her with the same dosage she would not have lasted through that first night. He was keeping her alive, but why?
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked, softly.
Pete pushed back from the desk, and stood to wander over to her. Andrea's eyes were unblinking as he met her vacant stare.
"Because, it's what you deserve," he said with a sadistic smile. Then, he turned on his heels and started for the steps that lead out of her cell.
"Wait," Andrea called after him, her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.
He slowly turned, raising a questioning eyebrow.
"Did he tell you to do this?" she asked, wrapping her trembling hands around the bars of her cage to drag her body closer. Moving still caused her significant discomfort, but she needed to know the truth.
"Try not to pull your stitches," Pete said, then turned back towards the basement steps to leave.
Once he made it up to the ground level, he carefully closed the door behind him.
"Hey," Ron greeted absently as he descended from upstairs with a skateboard under his arms.
"Where are you off to?" Pete asked, watching him near the front door.
"To get some air," Ron tossed over his shoulder before disappearing outside.
Pete watched him go uninterestedly, then turned to secure the basement's lock before venturing upstairs.
As he made his way to the hallway, he noticed Sam's bedroom door was open and empty. Pete hadn't heard the boy leave out, of course he wouldn't have heard anything from the basement. But, he had noticed Sam had been spending more and more time outside lately, which he supposed was a good thing. It was much better than hiding underneath his mother's coattails, so Pete saw no reason to investigate further.
He made his way towards his bedroom, and was surprised to find the bed neatly made and empty.
Upon wondering further inside the room, he found Jesse primping in the bathroom mirror. After spending almost a whole week in a near catatonic state, she seemed to finally be emerging from her self-induced haze. Good.
"Did you need something?" she asked, without turning from applying her mascara.
Pete shrugged as he leaned against the doorframe. "Just curious to see which version of you we're going to get today."
Jesse recapped her mascara and sighed. "I'm fine," she said, reaching for her brush to rake through her hair.
Pete's expression was skeptical. "I should hope so. You have one job, and lately you've been failing at it."
Jesse's shoulders dropped, as she paused her ministrations. She set the brush back on the countertop and turned to face him. "I'm sorry," she apologized, feebly, "I know I haven't been present lately."
Pete scoffed. "Is that what we're calling it?"
She didn't respond, instead she turned back to the mirror to resume her task.
Pete considered her a moment, then sighed. "If you can stay cognizant long enough, the neighbors' barbeque is today," he reminded her.
Jesse lifted her eyes to him in the mirror, surprised he would bring that up. "You still want to go?"
Pete shrugged. "You said we would."
Jesse turned to him again. "Yeah, but I didn't think..."
Pete pushed off the door frame to re-enter the bedroom. "Go or don't go, I'm fine either way."
"I want to go," she rushed to say. The prospect of getting out of the house, even if it was only to go right next door, was enticing to her after a week of solitude.
Pete smirked to himself as he wandered inside their walk-in closet to change.
"What about the boys?" Jesse asked, following him inside.
"Ron just left out, and who knows where Sam is," Pete muttered, shrugging out of his t-shirt, "he's probably wandering around the woods again," he said.
"Again?" she asked with a frowned.
Pete rolled his eyes as he brushed past her, disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Ron idly kicked the concrete as he navigated aimlessly down the street. His earbuds were loud in his ears as he was intent on drowning out the rest of the world. Had he been more aware he would have been able to avoid nearly crashing into the girl riding her bike in the opposite direction as he rounded the corner.
"Woah!" Ron immediately tilted back on his board to brake. He removed his earbuds, blinking in surprise as the girl steadied herself on her bike. "Sorry about that," he apologized, blushing slightly as he took in the brunette before him.
"No worries," she said with a small smile, "I should have been playing more attention."
"Ron," he offered, extending his hand awkwardly.
She glanced down and grinned as she shook his hand in return. "Enid."
"Do you live around here?" he asked, hoping she did.
"A couple of streets over, I was on my way to a friend's house. You?"
He nodded. "We just moved in the cul de sac up the street."
"You must be Carl's new neighbors," Enid surmised, "are you coming to the cookout?"
He had figured something had to be going on next door, he could hear music, and smelled the aroma of food on the grill on his way out. "I don't want to crash the party," he said, shaking his head.
"Oh come on, Mr. and Mrs. Grimes won't mind," Enid said over her shoulder, starting up the street again.
Ron turned to follow her, not wanting to end their conversation just yet. "So is Carl your boyfriend or something?" he asked, hoping it sounded casual.
Enid laughed, sliding her eyes over to him. "Smooth."
"Had to ask," Ron huff, self-deprecatingly.
She squinted her eyes at him. "Did you, though?" she teased, mostly to avoid answering the question.
He chuckled as he followed her up the walkway of the house next to his, bypassing a line of cars from the other guests in attendance.
"You're sure this is okay?" he asked.
Enid leaned her bike against the side of the house and turned to him. "You can stay out here if you want," she said with a shrug before disappearing further into the yard.
Ron exhaled through his nose, considering his options briefly before deciding to jog after her.
The scene was one he was unprepared for, and he pulled up short.
The atmosphere was both festive and intimate. To the background of the music, people were laughing and having lively conversations on the upper deck of a large patio, and what sounded like a very competitive card game occurring on the terrace below, while a small group of children ran across the manicured grass towards an two-level tree house in the middle of the yard.
The entire landscape put the decrepit, sun dried patio furniture taking up real estate in his backyard to pitiful shame.
"Woah," he muttered to himself, watching the children clamor up the wooden steps of the fixture.
"Carl's dad is an architect," Enid explained, following his gaze to the treehouse, "he likes to get creative in his downtime."
Ron digested that information with a wordless nod, following her towards the cabana underneath the deck where the card game was taking place.
"Hey guys," she said as they neared a group of kids around their age, "this is Ron, he just moved in next door."
"Hey, I'm Carl," one closest to him said, holding his hand of Uno cards close to his chest as he turned from the table to greet them, "that's my brother, Dre, Becca, and Noah," he said, introducing the others.
"Nice to meet you," Ron replied, looking over the group.
"Enid, come get your boy," Andre interjected, narrowing his eyes at Carl, "he's cheating again."
"It's not cheating!" Carl countered, turning back to the table.
"You can't stack a draw two on top of a draw four, bro!" Andre shot back.
Carl rolled his eyes. "Says who?"
"Says the Uno Twitter account!"
Noah, Becca, and Enid laughed at their exchange, while Ron was too unfamiliar to know whether or not they were joking.
"He's right you know," Enid said, sliding into the open space next to Carl, "that is cheating."
Carl looked at her in mock horror, "And here I was going to share my winnings with you."
Enid looked at the pile in the center of the table; two full sized Big Kat candy bars, a crumpled up twenty dollar bill, and two crisp five dollar notes. She leaned over to nudge Carl's shoulder. "You'd share with me anyway," she told him.
Carl rolled his eyes. "Can't share anything if I lose," he muttered.
"You want in on the next round?" Noah asked looking up at Ron.
"Uh, sure," Ron said, settling down in the space Becca and Noah made for him. "I don't have anything to bid though."
"That's not true. What about your skateboard?" Enid offered, and he blinked up at her in surprise. "I'm joking," she laughed.
"As long as you don't cheat," Andre muttered, looking pointedly at Carl, "we'll waive entrance fee."
"How's it going over here?"
Ron looked over his shoulder as an older man approached them, he recognized him as the man who helped his mother when they were moving in last weekend.
"Carl's cheating again," Andre lamented, glancing up at him.
"I am not," Carl scoffed, "you're making up new rules."
"Hey Mr. G," Enid interrupted with a smile.
"Hey Enid," Rick returned as his eyes landed on Ron. "Who's your friend?"
"Ron," he supplied, clearing his throat, "I live next door."
"Are your parents here, too?" Rick asked, looking around for new faces.
Ron shook his head. "I came over with Enid."
Rick nodded. "Well, when they get here, let me know. Okay?"
Ron was surprised to learn they had received an invite since no one told him. "Sure."
Rick leaned over to look at the rest of the table. "Draw two can't go on top of draw fours," he said, before turning away from the group.
Andre's expression was one of pure vindication. "Ha!"
"Lies!" Carl complained, slamming his hand on the table face down while the rest of them laughed at his indignation.
"How long do we have to stay here?" Sam pouted as he followed his parents up their neighbor's driveway.
"Oh come on, buddy, this could be fun," Jesse replied brightly, smiling back at him.
Sam rolled eyes unconvinced.
He was perfectly content to spend his day like he had everyday, exploring the woods. But, when his mother called him home early, he was actually excited to see her up and out of her bedroom for the first time in a while.
That happiness was short lived, however, when she told him what she had planned.
He had heard the commotion next door, and he had no interest in engaging with what sounded like a lot of unfamiliar people. Sam didn't like strangers, and wasn't keen on being forced to interact with them. But his mother was adamant, and what's more, she had the rare support of his father.
Sam didn't stand a chance.
When they entered their neighbor's space, Sam reached for his mother's hand and held on tight.
"Look, Sam, they have a treehouse!" Jesse said wiggling his side, hoping to coax him out of his shell.
Pete looked down at Sam scoffed. "Let go of your mother, boy," he hissed right before something else caught his eye.
"Pete," Jesse started to chide, but cut herself short when she noticed his attention was elsewhere.
"Hello," Michonne greeted as she approached them with a bright smile, "I'm glad you could make it."
Pete returned her countenance, and for a moment Jesse hardly recognized him. "Thank you for inviting us," he returned.
Jesse gave him a sideways glance, then cleared her throat when he didn't bother to introduce her or Sam. "I'm Jesse," she said with a smile, "and this is our son, Sam."
"Michonne," the other woman replied, then nodded her head towards the patio terrace where the older kids were congregated. "Your other son's been here a little, we were hoping you'd be joining him eventually."
Jesse and Pete followed her gaze with varying levels of surprise. Ron appeared to be as happy as clam as he interacted with the group of his peers, laughing for the first time either of his parents had seen in weeks.
"Let me show where the food is," Michonne offered, turning to lead them up the deck stairs where a boisterous conversation was underway.
"We let the kids have the run of the yard," she explained over the noise, "I can fix Sam up a plate, and he can join them when he's ready."
Jesse nodded her thanks. "That sounds like a great idea, thank you."
Michonne waved her hand to get her husband's attention, but Rick saw her coming and had already excused himself to make his way over.
"Glad y'all could make it," he said in greeting to their newcomers. He casually wrapped an arm around Michonne's waist, and extended his free hand towards Pete. "I'm Rick."
Pete, having sized the other man up as he neared, shook his hand firmly in return. "Pete, and thank you for the invite."
"You have a beautiful home," Jesse added, gesturing to their surroundings with her free hand.
"Thank you," Rick said with a humble smile.
"We moved the food inside a little while ago, I'll show you where," Michonne said to Jesse, then looked up at Rick, "you got things covered out here?"
He nodded, brushing a kiss to her temple before releasing her to lead Jesse and Sam through the patio door.
"What're you drinking?" Rick asked Pete as he turned to head back towards the bar.
Pete's gaze lingered on the patio door for a moment before he started after Rick. "Whiskey neat is fine."
Rick nodded, rounding the bar as Pete took up residence on an open stool. "Everyone, this is Pete," he said, introducing Pete to the group as he went.
They waved and said their hello's, some more friendly than others as Pete nodded in return.
"I'm told you know Glenn and Jesus," Rick said nodding to the men sitting in an alcove around the fire pit.
"We've met," Pete supplied, taking a seat on an open barstool. They were the only two faces he recognized, not including Glenn's wife, but he'd be a fool to admit that.
"So going back to my earlier question," Sasha began, leaning back on the sofa cushions to catch Rick's attention, "you really mean to tell me the damned tiger was myth?"
Rick chuckled at her at her exasperated disappointment as he poured Pete's drink. "He said there's a picture in his office of him and a rescue tiger taken years ago on a safari. That's how he thinks the rumor started."
Sasha huffed. "Well, that's a let down."
"What would you have done if it was real? Ask to pet it?" Daryl scoffed beside her.
"Maybe," she returned dryly, rolling her eyes.
"Someone lied about having a pet tiger?" Pete asked, confused as Rick placed his beverage down in front of him.
"More like someone lied on someone else about having a pet tiger," Rick answered with a snort.
Still confused but mostly apathetic, Pete brought his drink to his lips and allowed the conversations to resume around him without further input.
Instead, his eyes wandered through the window pane, behind the bar. He could see Jesse and Michonne engaging in conversation in the kitchen. He wondered what they were talking about, unable to think of anything interesting they could possibly have in common.
Knowing Jesse, the woman was probably fawning over the décor of their hosts' home. Even he could admit the place was well put together. But, it was a topic Jesse considered herself to be somewhat proficient in. For that reason, he could only hope she wasn't embarrassing herself.
"So, how are you settling in?"
Pete redirected his gaze Rick, unaware at first that he was being addressed directly. "I'm sorry?"
"With the house," Rick replied, cracking open a bottle of beer for himself.
"Just fine," Pete returned, lifting his drink again, "the neighborhood's nice, quiet."
Rick chuckled. "Speak for your own house," he joked lightly.
"Michonne mentioned you have three boys," Pete said, looking over his shoulder down at the children playing in the yard.
"And two girls," Rick exhaled.
"We have two boys, that's two more than I had hoped for," Pete returned absently.
Rick did not know how to respond to that and eventually decided to stick with something more his speed. "Do your boys play any sports?"
Pete shook his head, laughing under his breath. "That'll be the day."
"My boys play football," he supplied, "they're welcomed over to throw the ball around any time."
Pete was surprised at the invitation, but nodded his thanks. "They're not really the athletic type," he cautioned.
"Neither was Carl, at first," Rick admitted with a chuckle, "he was about as uncoordinated as they come, but he liked the sport, and being on a team. I think he wanted to get better off the strength of that alone."
Pete didn't respond to that. He had never played contact sports in school, and had limited interactions with those who did, so he could not speak to their proclivities.
"Another round, barkeep!" Abraham interjected loudly, bringing his empty cup down onto the bar counter.
"You sure are demanding for a non-tipping patron," Maggie teased, coming over for a refill as well.
"Feel free to cut him off, Rick," Ellen called over from the alcove.
Abraham leveled Rick with a plain look, causing him to chuckle as he exited from behind the bar. "Pour your own troubles, Ford," he told him as he walked over to settle down on the patio sofa.
"And, me too, while you're at it," Maggie told the ginger. Then, she turned her attention on Pete. "So, how do you like Atlanta General?" she asked.
Pete glanced up at her. "It's a hospital like any other hospital," he said noncommittally.
Maggie squinted her eyes as she considered him. "Glenn tells me your first week went well," she said, in an attempt to be conversational.
Pete was uncomfortable under her scrutiny. He finished in one swallow and turned away from her to face the larger group. "What do you do for a living, Rick?" he decided to ask.
Eric snorted lightly. "You mean you haven't heard of Mr. 40 under 40?"
Those familiar, which meant everyone except for Pete, shared a laugh at the remark.
Rick shook his head with a chuckle. "I'm never gonna live that article down."
"Exactly why I don't do interviews," Daryl snickered.
"And here I thought it was because you were passed the qualifying age group," Sasha returned, grinning wider when Daryl cut his eyes to her.
Pete arched a questioning eyebrow.
"Rick and Daryl co-own an architecture firm," Maggie explained, "one half of the dynamic duo was featured in Fortune magazine last year."
Pete felt a twitch in his eyebrow. "Impressive," he said, sliding his gaze back to Rick.
Rick nodded his gratitude at the comment but his attention was focused past Pete.
"Wouldn't be half as much without this one right here," Rick said, extending his hand to Michonne as she and Jesse returned to their gathering.
Michonne accepted his hand, allowing him to pull her into his lap. "What are you talking about now?" she asked him, taking his beer to sip.
"Gushing over you, per usual," Ellen teased with a grin.
"No one wants to hear that," Michonne laughed, wrapping her arm loosely around his neck.
"Too bad," Rick returned, kissing her neck.
Michonne smirked at him, then turned to Jesse, suddenly remembering she had left the woman on her own. "I'm sorry, I never introduced you to everyone."
"Who needs introductions," Sasha objected, pushing to her feet as she glanced over at Jesse, "just tell me what you're drinking, honey."
"Um, I'll have what you're having," Jesse replied, following her to the bar.
"Oh sweet lord, someone save the poor woman," Abraham entreated as Sasha infiltrated the bar-back and lightly shoved him out of the way.
"Hush, lightweight," Sasha returned, pulling out a bottle of whiskey from the bottom behind the bar. "Two firehouse fireballs coming right up," she added, tossing Jesse a wink.
"You'd be safer drinking gasoline," Abraham whispered to Jesse in warning.
Jesse giggled lightly, finding their discourse entertaining. "It can't be that bad, can it?"
Abraham's expression suggested otherwise. "Don't let her size fool you, that woman can out-drink a fish."
"She'll have water," Pete interposed, bringing an end to their good-natured banter.
Sasha and Abraham paused, looking back at Jesse.
But her eyes were also on her husband, and eventually dropped her shoulders and she conceded. "Yeah, okay. Water's fine."
Sasha arched an eyebrow at Pete, then purposefully addressed Jesse. "You sure? I can make a lighter version for you."
"No, really, I shouldn't," Jesse reiterated, attempting to laugh off her indecision.
Abraham exhaled awkwardly through his nose as he rejoined the larger group, no longer finding this one as much fun. Sasha, meanwhile, maintained a steady glare on Pete as she set a bottle of water in front of Jesse. Then, she quickly made her own drink, and left the two of them alone by the bar.
Jesse wordlessly reached for her bottle of water, and also left to join the larger group in the alcove.
Pete watched her go, settling in with a people she barely knew as if belonged there.
He snatched up the bottle of whiskey Sasha left on the bar and poured a double shot into his empty cup, hiding his sneer behind the rim as he drank.
Sometime later, Sam quietly stepped out onto the patio, nibbling on a cookie. He had had his fill of grilled food and was now looking for his parents, hoping they would be ready to leave. His eyes landed on his father standing alone as he leaned over the deck's ledge watching the scene below.
Sam wandered to his side, noticing the other adults had migrated down into the yard. It seemed there was a football game underway that had drawn the attention of the larger crowd.
"Dad?"
Pete slid his eyes over to Sam, and grunted in response.
"Is it almost time to go?"
Pete sighed, pushing off the ledge, and Sam took an involuntary step back.
"Find some kids to play with," Pete told him, leaving him in favor of the open and empty patio bar.
Sam watched him, exhaling dejectedly. Then, he turned and slowly started down the deck stairs. No one noticed him as he made his way down. Not even his mother, who stood on the sidelines in conversation with two other women Sam didn't know. They were all having fun, it seemed.
His gaze fell to the thicket of trees beyond the yard, and he wondered if he could sneak off without anyone noticing. Not that anyone was paying him attention now.
As he contemplated his options, a small squirrel ran by his feet in the grass, darting along the edge of the yard heading in the direction of his sanctuary.
As if in a trance, Sam started to follow the oblivious animal, several paces behind. He slipped by the excitement of the game unnoticed, and quietly disappeared behind the brush.
The squirrel had scampered up a nearby tree and Sam followed it with his eyes, watching its erratic movements carefully.
Sam decided that he liked the squirrel, and wanted to make it his friend.
So, he broke off a piece of his cookie and approached the tree. "Here you go," he offered the piece to the rodent, and after a few skeptical moments, it slowly crawled down the bark of the tree towards him.
Sam backed away to kneel on the ground, and the animal took cautious steps closer. The squirrel quickly snatched the crumb from Sam's fingers, devouring it hastily. Sam laughed and crumbled the remnants of the cookie into his open palm.
The squirrel's whiskers tickled as he nibbled the treat but Sam was careful not to startle the fidgety animal.
What he did next, he did without hesitation. His free hand came up to enclose around the squirrel's tiny neck, and snapped it.
The animal died instantly, its head falling limp into Sam's palm.
Sam lifted the squirrel by its head, brushing the remaining crumbs off onto his jeans so he could use his free hand to dig a tiny pit into the ground to hide his new friend until he could come back for him later.
Just then, a football as it spiraled through the trees, it bounced and landed on the ground beside him.
Sam shot up to his feet, with the squirrel hanging by its broken neck from his hand.
"I got it!" a voice called.
"Hurry up, RJ!" someone else said as the curly hair boy hopped into the brush. He froze, spotting Sam and the squirrel right away.
Sam swallowed hard as his heart beat loudly in his ears. He was caught.
"What are you doing?" RJ asked with his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
Sam looked down at the squirrel and back up at him. "I-I found it!" he stammered.
RJ's confusion deepened. "Is it dead?"
Sam hesitated, unsure of what to say.
RJ took a careful step to reach for his ball, but Sam stepped into his way.
"You better not tell anyone," Sam said, finding confidence in their height difference.
RJ stepped back, frowning.
"Come on, RJ, we're waiting on you," Andre urged him, stepping through the trees.
Sam retreated a few steps, hurriedly moving the dead animal behind his back to drop its carcass into the hole he had dug. The last thing he needed was for someone else to see what he had done. RJ was smaller than him, and less of a threat. He could not say the same for the taller teenager approaching them now.
RJ took advantage of his distraction, and snatched the ball up from the ground, then he ran past his brother into their yard.
Andre raised an eyebrow, as his gaze fell to Sam.
Sam didn't say anything either, instead, he took off in the same direction as RJ.
The football game immediately resumed when RJ returned with the ball, but he was no longer interested in playing. He tossed Carl the ball and kept walking towards the cabana where Judith and Gracie were posted.
"What happened? Did you get ejected or something?" Gracie asked him as he neared.
RJ didn't answer, instead he took a seat next to his sister to watch the game from the sidelines.
"What's the matter, RJ?" Judith pressed, noticing his uncharacteristically sour face.
RJ lifted his gaze and spotted Sam reemerging from the woods, and Judith and Gracie followed his gaze.
"Isn't that..." Gracie started, trailing off when Judith hopped up from her seat.
"Did he do something to you?" Judith demanded, turning to face her brother as she pointed back in Sam's direction.
"Judes," Gracie began calmly.
RJ shook his head. "No," he told her.
"RJ, don't lie," Judith warned him.
"Maybe we should let your mom handle it," Gracie offered to avoid Judith making a scene.
"I'm not lying," RJ insisted.
Judith reclaimed her seat with a sigh. "Just stay away from him, okay?" she said, looking down at her little brother.
RJ nodded, thinking that would not be a problem.
"I'm ready to go now!"
Jesse looked down in surprise at Sam as his outburst had rudely interrupted her conversation.
"Sam, Mommy was talking," she said gently to him, while Maggie and Ellen exchanged a confused look behind her.
Sam shook his head. "I don't care. I want to go home!"
"Is everything okay, sweetie?" Maggie asked, in an attempt to be helpful.
"I was talking to my mom," he told her bitterly.
Maggie's face twisted into a look of indignation, but Ellen intercepted her before she could react to the boy. "Let's leave them to it, darling," she said placatingly as she escorted Maggie away.
Jesse looked back at them apologetically before turning back to Sam. "That was incredibly rude, Sam. What's gotten into you?"
"I just want to go home," he pleaded, looking up imploringly at her.
Jesse sighed in frustration. She was having a good time, and wasn't quite ready to leave. It had been so long since she held conversation with other adults, she had almost forgotten what it was like to be social.
"Is everything okay?" Michonne asked softly, as she neared them. Maggie and Ellen had alerted her to what happened, and she wanted to see if she could help.
"Oh, yeah, just fine," Jesse returned in a falsely bright tone, "I think we should start heading out though, Sam's really tired."
Sam wasn't tired, but he didn't care about his mother lying if he meant they got to leave.
Michonne smiled sympathetically. "That's too bad."
"I had a lot of fun," Jesse told her honestly, "thank you for having us."
"Of course, any time," she told her.
Jesse watched as she turned to leave, then searched around for her other son. The last time she saw Ron, he was doing a pitiful job at guarding Rick's oldest son on the field, mostly because he was too busy fawning over the pretty brunette playing as quarterback.
Realizing she wouldn't be getting his attention any time soon, she decided to look for Pete instead. She spotted him in the same place she left him nearly an hour and half ago, alone at the bar.
She pulled Sam behind her as she trekked up the stairs towards him. "Sam's tired, we should probably go."
Pete glanced at her sideways, then finished the contents of his cup as he pushed himself to his feet. Without saying a word in reply, he started down the deck stairs.
Jesse sighed inwardly. "Come on, Sam," she muttered, pulling him behind her as they followed Pete down.
The party continued without them as they sulked out into the driveway. The sun had almost fully disappeared beneath the horizon, and what little daylight remained cast considerable shadows on the trio as they walked single file along the short path to their home.
As they approached their front steps, Pete suddenly stopped walking causing Jesse and Sam to stumble into his back.
"Pete, what are you..." Jesse's words trailed off when her gaze fell on the stranger standing on their doorstep. "Who are you?"
The man stepped forward, and Pete grimaced. "Jesse, get in the house," he commanded firmly.
Jesse looked up at him in confusion. "What's going on?"
Pete's sneer glowed with the light of the setting sun. "Get. In. The. House."
Jesse frowned at his tone. She tugged harder than necessary on Sam's hand, causing Sam to wince.
"Ow, Mom," he complained as she pulled him along.
The stranger politely stepped out of their way. "Forgive the intrusion, Mrs. Anderson, I just need a few moments of your husband's time."
Jesse looked at him in confusion, but did not respond as pulled out her keys, and hurriedly opened the front door for her and Sam to go inside.
Pete made sure she closed the door behind her before he addressed the man. "What are you doing here?"
Milton chuckled lightly, removing his glasses to clean them a handkerchief from his pocket. "This is a nice place you have here, Pete. I see you managed to dig yourself out of the squalor, after all."
"No thanks to your boss," Pete fumed, taking a menacing step towards the shorter man.
Milton quietly clicked his tongue. "You have selective memory, my friend," he chastised, "my employer had nothing to do with your misfortune. Now, if only we could say the same about you."
Pete narrowed his gaze. "I'm taking care of it."
Milton nodded. "Yes, you are. Very publicly, might I add."
Pete gave pause, dropping his shoulders slightly. "Your employer has nothing to worry about," he said, lessening the bite in his tone.
"If that were true the Atlanta PD would not have shown up to question him hours before a campaign fundraiser," Milton returned sharply.
"What did he tell them?" Pete demanded, raising his eyebrows.
"What do you think?" Milton posited, as though the answer were obvious, "the truth."
"Or some version of it," Pete muttered under his breath.
Milton narrowed his eyes. "I'm here as a courtesy," he told him, "if whatever you're doing traces back to my employer in any way, you will not be able to dig yourself out of the hole he puts you in."
Pete's temple pulsed with his agitation. "Anything else?"
Milton smiled, sardonically. "No. Enjoy the rest of your evening."
He brushed past Pete as he started down the driveway to the waiting sedan parked on the street.
As soon as he was gone, Jesse reopened their front door. Pete could tell by the look on her face she had been listening to the exchange.
"Pete," she began, stepping out onto the doorstep, "you need to tell me what's going on. Now."
Rick settled back on the patio sofa with a tired sigh.
Their end-of-summer get together had carried on well into the evening, with the last of their guests retiring home about an hour ago. Carl, Andre, and Judith, helped with pulling their yard back together. While, Michonne had the task of wrangling their hyperactive little ones together for their bedtime routine.
After his oldest turned in, Rick decided to take advantage of the mild summer night a little while longer before going inside to make his good-night rounds.
He had all but dozed off when the patio door slid open, and Michonne quietly padded over to him on bare feet.
"Hey you," he murmured, peering up at her through his heavy-lidded gaze.
"Hey you," she returned, turning to settle on his lap, "Carl volunteered to read Maya's bedtime story, so I'd say you have about ten minutes before she'll be expecting her good-night kiss."
Rick chuckled, wrapping his arm around her to caress her side. "Duly noted."
"Today was nice," she said softly, running her fingers through his hair, "did you have a good time?"
Rick nodded. "Even though I'm sure I'll be sore in the morning."
"No one told you to go out there with those young boys," she returned with a soft laugh, referring to the football game he enthusiastically participated in just a few hours ago.
"Couldn't let Abe and Daryl have all the fun," he returned with a lazy grin.
"All three of you are gonna regret that decision in the morning," she said knowingly, leaning forward to rest her head against him as his chest rumbled with his laughter.
"Probably," he conceded.
They fell quiet for a moment, content to be alone in each other's company after spending the day being attentive hosts for their guests. Rick slid his eyes closed, knowing he was running the risk of dozing off again if they stayed that way too long.
"You better not be going to sleep," Michonne murmured, as if reading his mind.
He didn't respond, and she started to stand up. "Fine, I'll leave you out here."
Rick opened his eyes and tightened his arms around her waist, hugging her closer. "No, you won't."
She hummed knowingly, settling back against him. "So, what did you think of our new neighbors?" she asked, curious to hear his thoughts.
"That Jesus was right," he replied, reclining them back into the cushions.
Michonne sighed softly. "I feel bad for Jesse, it seems like she's dealing with a lot."
"Pete definitely didn't gain any fans today, that's for sure, "he said, bringing a hand up to massage her scalp.
"Yeah," Michonne exhaled against him, having had the same thought. "Sasha told me he wouldn't let Jesse request her own drink, so you can imagine her impression of him."
Sasha was one of the more outspoken and opinionated of their group, so she had no qualms about calling people out on their bullshit. He was actually surprised she managed not to cross paths with Pete. He suspected his wife had something to do with that. Even though Jesus had set a pretty low bar before most of them could even meet the man, it didn't take long for his description to be proven apt.
Rick chuckled despite himself, his impression of Pete wasn't worth mentioning. He didn't see himself interacting with the man much, so he was content to let the subject drop there.
He looked down at his wife in his arms, with her eyes closed, looking a little too comfortable from his ministrations. "Now, who's going to sleep."
"Even, if I did, you'd carry me upstairs," she sleepily returned.
He exhaled through his nose, knowing she was right. He had done it before.
"We really should go inside soon," she eventually sighed.
"A little while longer," he murmured into her hair, unwilling to move just yet.
Michonne's response was to snuggled deeper into his embrace, happy to indulge him a little while longer.