"All right boys remember, I won't be here to pick you up today," Rick said, pulling to a stop in the high school drop-off zone.
"We remember," Carl replied, hopping out of the front passenger's seat. "We'll probably catch a ride home with Noah after practice."
Rick nodded, then locked eyes with both of his sons. "Straight home. Daryl will pick up your brother and sisters but I still want you guys there to help out."
"No worries, Pop," Andre returned easily, hefting his backpack onto his shoulder. "Have a safe flight."
"Call us when you land," Carl added.
Rick reached over to fist bump them both through the open passenger window. "Be good," he said, then slowly pulled off back onto the main road.
"So," Andre started, having purposefully waited for Rick to leave before rounding on his brother and best friend.
Carl arched an eyebrow in question, reshouldering his backpack as he returned, "...so?"
"What's been going on with you?" Andre asked straight out.
"Nothing," Carl replied, a slight edge of defensiveness in his tone.
Andre, undeterred, rolled his eyes. "So you ditched practice, and lock yourself up in your room all night for nothing?"
Carl snorted under his breath, not surprised that his brother would call him out for his unusual behavior. "I had a headache," he told him, which wasn't exactly a lie.
Andre eyed him suspiciously as they made their way inside their school building, making it obvious he wasn't quite buying Carl's excuse.
"This headache have anything to do with Enid ghosting you?" Andre asked, using context clues to make his assessment.
Carl sighed, ducking his head. "Doesn't matter. I'm not planning on ditching today, so let's just drop it."
Andre shook his head, disappointed. "Aren't you always the one telling me to stay focused? No distractions, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah," Carl exhaled, nodding to his point. "Pot meet kettle, I know."
Andre paused, tilting his head as he considered Carl. "You know if you're not good, you can tell me. Right?"
"I know that, too," Carl told him with a half smile. He then extended his arm, dapping his brother with the handshake they had developed as kids. The back of their hands slapped together twice before quickly flipping over to grasp each other's fingers and pull away with a snap. "See you at lunch?" he asked, backing away.
"Grimes!"
The brothers immediately stopped at the sound of their surname and looked up as the loud baritone of their coach boomed from down the other end of the hallway. Several other students in the line of fire also froze in place from the authoritative bark.
Coach Douglas narrowed his eyes. "My office. Now."
He didn't bother to wait for a response, he didn't even bother to clarify which Grimes he wanted to see.
But, Andre had a pretty good guess.
"Assuming you survive that," he said to Carl, taking a generous step back with a grin, "I'll see you later."
Carl watched his brother turn on his heel and head down the hall in the opposite direction, then inhaled deeply before slowly making his way down to the Coach's office.
When he arrived, he knocked once on the open office door.
"Hey Coach...you wanted to see me?"
The older man didn't lift his head from the playbook in front of him as waved Carl inside. "Close the door behind you," he instructed.
Carl wordlessly did as he was told, then settled into one of the available seats across the desk. "What's up?" he asked, although he already had some idea as to why he was summoned.
The coach arched an eyebrow as he lifted his eyes to him. "That's what I want to know," he said, setting the playbook aside. "What's up with you skipping practice?"
Carl made a face of chagrin. "I'm sorry, there was an emergency I had to take care of."
"Funny, your brother said it was something like that," he returned, warily. "Couldn't have been a family emergency though, seeing as how he still managed to show up."
"It won't happen again, Coach," Carl expressed apologetically.
"It better not," Coach Douglas returned, leveling him with a stern look. "You're the captain of the team, Grimes. That means you lead by example. If it looks like you don't care enough to show up for practice, what kind of message do you think that sends to everyone else?"
Carl ducked his head, humbled at being called out. He knew he had let himself get distracted, and after how hard he worked to get to this point, that was something he could not afford to do.
"You're right," he acknowledged, lifting his gaze. "I'm sorry."
Coach Douglas eyed him for a moment, then exhaled. "What was the big emergency anyway?" he asked.
Carl flushed slightly. "Nothing," he replied, not wanting to admit the truth.
Coach Douglas eyed him skeptically. "Uh huh," he grunted, shaking his head. "Well 'nothing' is going to cost you extra reps this afternoon, so I hope it was worth something."
Carl had already figured that would be the case, so he dutifully nodded his head. "Yes sir."
"Get back to class," Coach Douglas told him with a nod, "and I expect to see you on time for practice this afternoon."
Carl jerked his head in compliance as he stood to leave the office.
"Oh, and Grimes?"
He paused, turning to face his mentor. "Yeah?"
"If it happens again, I'll find someone more suitable to be team captain. Understood?"
"Yes sir."
The hallways were nearly empty now that homeroom was in session, but as he rounded the corner he spotted a familiar face down the hall.
Enid was standing in front of her locker, sorting through her textbooks. She appeared flustered as if she had been rushing, and Carl had to wonder if she were just getting to school. It wasn't like her to run late.
He started to call out to her but stopped himself when he saw someone else approach her from behind.
Ron tapped her shoulder and when she whirled around, he stepped closer towards her.
Carl pulled up short and frowned at the interaction.
Confusion quickly gave way to agitation as he thought back on Enid's odd behavior over the last twenty-four hours.
Ever since her 'study session' with Ron, she had completely shut him out. And with no other explanation from her, he was left to believe what was right in front of his eyes.
Carl forced himself to turn away from the pair, deciding this was exactly the kind of distraction he did not need right now.
Instead he took the long way to class, bitterly pushing Enid and Ron and their not-so-well-kept secret to the back of his mind.
But, had he lingered a moment longer he may have noticed the way Enid recoiled away from Ron's touch, or the way Ron's grip forcibly tightened around her arm as she did.
Had he stayed just a moment longer he may have understood that things were not as they appeared to be.
Jesse found Sam in front of the living room television, munching on handfuls of sugary cereal directly from a box as he focused on the television screen in front of him.
Still clad in his dinosaur pajamas, he was the picture of innocence in her eyes.
But if she had come to realize anything over these past couple of days, it was that appearances were infinitely deceiving.
She felt nervous, then immediately felt silly for it.
This was her son, after all. Her sweet baby boy. But somewhere along the line that had changed without her even noticing. And she was confronted with the fact that there were things about him she just didn't know anymore.
"Sam?" she called over to him softly.
"Yeah," he replied distractedly, eyes still trained on the television in front of him.
Jesse sighed and walked further into the room. She paused for a moment, distracted by the press conference taking place on the screen.
She recognized the Republican governor-hopeful speaking in front of a plethora of cameras. But it was the headline that stopped her in tracks.
[Gubernatorial Candidate - Philip Blake - Denies Involvement in the disappearance of local woman]
Jesse's frown deepened as she considered both the man and the headline. Then she shook her head, pushing it to the back of her mind as she focused on what was right in front of her.
As she reached for the remote to turn off the television Sam vocally protested her.
"Mom! What are you doing?"
"We need to talk," she said over his complaints.
Sam frowned up at her and she gestured for him to have a seat on the sofa behind him.
He huffed under his breath as he stood and stomped over, flopping down onto the cushions with his arms folded over his chest.
Jesse came over to take a seat beside him. "I just want to talk."
"Why now?" he demanded, shifting his narrowed eyes to her suspiciously. "You've been locked in your room since yesterday."
Jesse pulled back a little, surprised at being called out for her absence. Although, she supposed it was only fair.
"I'm sorry," she started, angling her body to face him, "but Sam, you have to understand that yesterday was a lot. I needed time to process everything."
"Is that why you didn't tell Dad?" he asked, curious.
Jesse absently shook her head, thinking to herself that she hadn't had the chance to speak with Pete about much of anything lately. But the moment the thought occurred to her she furrowed her eyebrows together and looked back at Sam.
"How do you know I haven't talked to Dad?" she demanded.
Sam shrugged. "He didn't know when I spoke to him last night, or I guess it was really early this morning."
Jesse's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "What? Where? What was he doing?"
Sam dropped his gaze again, but Jesse hooked a finger under his chin bringing his eyes back to her.
"Be honest with me, Sam," she told him seriously.
Sam shrugged away from her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't know."
"What was he doing when you saw him?" Jesse asked again, more urgently this time.
"He was packing," Sam sniffled, swiping at his nose.
Jesse pulled up short. "Packing? For what?"
"I don't know," Sam repeated in a dejected tone, "but, he said that I couldn't go with him."
Jesse was so stunned into silence by Sam's admission, she could practically feel the wheels in her head grinding to a sudden halt.
Pete had really left them. He fucking left.
A part of her felt a strange sense of relief, as marginal as it was. But there was another part, a much larger one, that feared for what caused his sudden disappearance.
Jesse turned back to Sam, preparing to grill him with more questions about the interaction when someone suddenly knocked at the front door.
With an exasperated sigh, Jesse stood to her feet. "Go to your room and wait for me," she told him as she made her way over to the door.
She looked through the peephole, and groaned softly when she saw Milton on the other side.
She quickly opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, pulling it closed behind her. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a rushed whisper.
"We need to talk," Milton stated, his voice devoid of any of his former pleasantries.
Jesse frowned, folding her arms over her chest. "I already told you over the phone, he's not here."
Milton narrowed his eyes as he considered her for a moment. "Yes, but that doesn't mean you don't know where he could be."
"It does, actually."
"I'm not sure you appreciate the gravity of the situation, Mrs. Anderson," Milton chided her, as if he were speaking to a child. "But if your husband is on the run, what do you think that means for you? If he's not at the hospital and he's not here, where else would he go?"
Jesse wrinkled her nose in indignation. Then she sighed, dropping her gaze at his question because she had been asking herself the very same.
"You need to leave. Now," she eventually told him, stepping back.
"Mrs. Anderson-"
"I know who you work for," she interrupted, lifting her eyes back to him. "Philip Blake, right? I just saw him on the news. The police think whatever happened to that poor woman is because of him."
Milton's nose flared at the insinuation. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Jesse scoffed, recalling Pete telling her something similar one of the last times they spoke. She was getting sick and tired of being gaslighted by these men.
"Either way," she said, reaching back to open her front door, "get off my property, and don't come back."
"What do you think will happen?" he asked her again before she could slam the door in his face. "To you and your boys, when all is said and done?"
"What happens to us is none of your concern," she said firmly. "Now, leave."
With that she returned back inside of her home, and quickly locked the door.
"Mom?"
She turned around, surprised to find Sam sitting atop the staircase staring down at her. His cherubic features were the picture of confusion and she had to wonder how long he had been there.
"I told you to wait in your room, Sam," she sighed as she closed the front door.
"What does that man want with Dad?" he pressed with concern in his voice.
"I don't know," she replied, unable to look him in the eye.
"You're lying!" he accused her angrily.
Jesse snapped her head up at him, bewildered by his tone. "Excuse me?"
"If Dad's in trouble, we need to help him!"
Jesse leaned back against the door, combing her fingers through her hair as she exhaled her frustration. "I can't do this right now," she muttered to herself.
"If he knew we would help him, maybe he would come back," Sam reasoned aloud as his voice lost its edge.
"Sam..." Jesse's shoulders slumped in defeat.
She knew the boy looked up to his father, although she could never really understand why. The two barely spent enough time together to have developed a relationship. Still, Sam admired his father, and often went out of his way to try and impress him.
So whatever happened to Pete, it only stood to reason that Sam would be affected by it in an impactful way. Probably even more so than her or Ron, if she were being honest.
"Your dad can take care of himself," she reasoned with him, pushing off the door to approach the bottom of the steps. "He always has."
"You're only saying that because you won't help him. Maybe if you did, he'd still be around," he shot back, standing to his feet to march back to his room.
"Sam!" she called after him in disbelief.
Her response was the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut, sending reverberations down the hall.
For his first couple of classes, Carl did his best not to overthink the status of Enid and Ron's relationship. While he didn't have all the facts, it was hard not to make assumptions with the little information he had.
So, instead he stubbornly tried to prioritize his schoolwork over the perceived betrayal.
But despite his best efforts, he couldn't help overanalyzing the situation.
While he and Enid weren't officially exclusive, he had been sure they would be sometime in the very near future. He had always told himself that he was just waiting for the right moment to make it official.
Not knowing what had happened to change that was beyond frustrating.
When the bell for third period rang out, he seriously considered skipping it entirely.
Third period was Chemistry, a class he shared with both Enid and Ron.
Ultimately, he decided against it. Skipping football practice was one thing, but if Coach Douglas found out he had skipped a class not even a full twenty-four hours later he knew there would be hell to pay.
Reluctantly, he gathered his belongings and migrated out into the hallways with the rest of his peers.
He caught sight of Enid leaving out of the girls' bathroom across the hall, and stopped in his tracks.
She looked up a second later, catching his gaze. Her eyes were red and puffy like she had been crying.
He briefly wondered if he should turn away and find another route to class, but before he realized it his feet were moving in her direction of their own accord.
"Hey," he said softly as he approached her. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she returned, sniffling as she quickly swiped a knuckle under her eye.
"It's pretty obvious you're not."
"I said I'm fine," she insisted in a watery voice as she clutched her notebooks close to her chest.
Carl stopped and exhaled his frustration. None of this was making any sense to him. Something was very clearly wrong, but he couldn't understand why she wouldn't tell him what it was. Especially when all he wanted to do was help.
"Enid, it's me," he tried to reason, taking a tentative step closer. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."
He reached for her, wrapping a hand around her forearm meant to reassure her. However, the moment he did Enid winced in pain and her books dropped to the ground.
Stunned by her reaction, Carl immediately let her go. "Are you okay?"
She steadily avoided his penetrative stare as she cradled her arm to her chest.
"Enid..." he started, narrowing his eyes as he stepped towards her again, "what happened to your arm?"
"It's not a big deal," she muttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's stupid really. So stupid."
Carl softened his eyes as he gently took ahold of her hand. He asked for permission with his eyes and when she didn't pull away, he extended it. He carefully inched up the fabric of the long sleeve shirt she wore to reveal a discolored bruise roughly the size of his palm wrapped around her arm.
His eyes shot back up to hers, expressing his confusion. "What happened?" he demanded.
Enid opened her mouth to explain but the words died before they could even pass her lips as her eyes shifted focus on something behind him.
Carl turned to follow her gaze just in time to see Ron round the corner, seemingly oblivious to the world around him as music blasted through his earbuds.
"I have to go," Enid hurried to say as she stooped down to collect her discarded books.
Carl kneeled down as well, gently wrapping his hands around her wrist to stop her. "Enid, what happened between you and Ron the other night?"
Enid sighed. "It was a misunderstanding," she insisted through her sniffling.
Carl tilted his head as he frowned, not buying her excuse. "Did he do this to you?"
"It's fine really. Carl, I'm fine-"
He didn't wait for her to finish as he slowly rose to his feet, her expression revealed all he needed to know.
"Carl," Enid started apprehensively, reaching for his arm to pull him back towards her. But he shrugged out of her grasp, weaving through students to cross the hall.
When Ron noticed Carl approach him, he reached up to pull his earbuds out of his ears. "Hey man," he greeted him casually.
"What happened between you and Enid?" Carl demanded without preemption, causing some passersby to look over in their direction curiously.
Ron's eyes flashed then narrowed as he looked over at Enid across the hall. She stared back with concern although she were more focused on Carl than anything else.
"Why?" Ron asked, shifting his eyes back to him. "What'd she say?"
"I'm asking you," Carl bit out in a low voice, fighting hard to keep his temper in check as the last twenty four hours of pent up frustration were quickly bubbling to the surface.
"We just hung out," Ron told him with a shrug, downplaying the situation.
"That's bullshit," Carl sneered, angrily. "How'd she get that bruise on her arm?"
"Look, I don't know what she told you, but I didn't do anything she didn't ask for," Ron told him in a dark tone Carl had never heard from him before.
Taking his silence for the end of their conversation, Ron brushed past Carl to continue down the hall, tossing a wink in Enid's direction as he did.
"Hey, Anderson," Carl called over to him before he could get too far.
Enid could tell by the look on his face that he was planning to do something and she attempted to get to him before he could. "Carl!"
But it was too late.
As Ron turned around, the last thing he likely expected in that moment was for Carl's fist to connect with his nose, forcing back against the lockers.
The sound startled the rest of the hallway into a brief silence.
But it only lasted a second until someone nearby yelled, "Fight!" and a semicircle began to form around the now brawling boys.
The sixty-foot high hydraulic doors of the Jet Linx hangar were opened wide, exposing its impressive fleet of private couriers.
A G550 was positioned at its entry, sleek and aerodynamic in its appearance as it was being prepared for its impending ascent.
Ezekiel was supposed to be overseeing the preparations, while his wife took a work call upstairs in the overlooking galley room. But he found his eyes constantly wandering up to assess her features.
He knew the case she was working on was taking its toll on her. And even though it was in his nature to be optimistic, lately he found himself worrying about her more often than not.
Even though knew her well enough to know that she probably couldn't wait for him to get out of her hair so she could dedicate all of her focus to solving the case.
With a heavy sigh, he redirected his attention to the aircraft in front of him just in time to see Jerry, his long-time friend and pilot for this excursion, peeking his head out from the plane's open egress.
"We're almost ready for take off, Boss," he announced from the top of the steps.
"Thank you, Jerry," Ezekiel replied, then looked past him to see his travel companion enter the hangar hand in hand with his wife. "Ah, there's our guest of honor now. Right on time."
"You know, when you said you upgraded us up from Business class, this isn't exactly what I had in mind," Rick said with a half grin, letting go of his suitcase handle to extend his hand.
Ezekiel laughed as he clasped it in return, then smiled at Michonne. "You look as lovely as ever, my dear."
"I'll admit, I'm a little jealous," Michonne teased, "I never flew on a PJ before."
"That makes two of us," Carol added as she joined the small group, then she looked pointedly at her husband. "You remembered to pack your Dramamine?"
"Yes dear," Ezekiel exhaled with an appreciative laugh as he patted his jacket pocket where the small pill pack was resting. "I have extra, in case the skies are as unfriendly to you as they tend to be for me," he warily added, looking at Rick.
Rick chuckled lightly. "Hopefully, I won't need to take you up on that."
"Just in case, then," Ezekiel said.
"All set, Boss!" Jerry called, descending from the plane to approach them.
"Wonderful!" Ezekiel boomed, waving him over, "Come let me introduce you to our guests."
Jerry was large in stature but his girth was only outmatched by his broad, welcoming smile. "Howdy, folks!"
"Jerry will be our pilot for this excursion," Ezekiel explained.
"I'm Rick, and this is my wife, Michonne," Rick said, extending his hand to the man.
"Good to meet you both, and we're glad to have you aboard, Rick."
"Jerry is headed our way on business of his own, and offered to give us a ride," Ezekiel explained as if they were hitching a ride into town instead of up the eastern seaboard.
"Thanks for the lift," Rick said, chuckling.
"No biggie," Jerry replied with an easy smile and a shrug.
"Are we ready to take off?" Ezekiel asked.
"Yep! We're all set," Jerry said, then nodded to Rick's suitcase. "I can take that for you."
"Thanks, I'll just be a minute," Rick said, handing over the suitcase, then he took Michonne's hand to bid her farewell privately.
Ezekiel nodded and turned his own wife, taking her hand in his to gingerly kiss her fingers. "Try not to work too hard in my absence," he murmured.
Carol rolled her eyes. "The sooner you take off the sooner I can get back to doing just that."
Ezekiel huffed a laugh, and pulled her in for a tight hug. "You'll get him," he whispered reassuringly into her ear.
She nodded against him, holding onto him longer than she usually would.
"Go," she eventually murmured, pulling away with a soft sigh. "I'll see you in three days."
"Not a moment longer," he promised as he hooked a finger under her chin and kissed her softly.
He slowly backed away from her with a wink, hiking his carry-on duffle bag over his shoulder as he did.
"Come along, Rick," he called over to the other couple in the hangar, locked in an embrace of their own just a few feet away. "Our chariot awaits!"
"You better go," Michonne whispered, her cheek pressed against her husband's as he held her close.
He didn't let go right away, which was fine by her because she wasn't exactly in a rush to let him go either.
Rick eventually exhaled and dropped his head to press a lingering kiss to her shoulder, exposed by the thin straps of the sundress she wore. He breathed in the fragrance of her perfume then pulled back slightly to kiss her forehead. "I'll call you when we land," he promised.
She leaned up to kiss him sweetly. "I love you," she whispered against his lips.
Rick squeezed her sides affectionately. "I love you, too," he returned before kissing her once more.
She missed the feeling of him the moment he pulled away, but smiled nonetheless when he looked back over his shoulder to wave before disappearing inside the jet's cabin.
Carol took up residence by her side as the jet's wheels started to roll the aircraft out of the hangar, onto the runway.
"And there they go," Carol murmured as they watched the ascent from inside the hangar.
Michonne sighed. "There they go," she repeated softly.
Carol eyed her for a moment. "How have you been?" she asked.
"I'm good," Michonne breathed, "I was a little anxious before, but I'm better now."
"I know the feeling," Carol murmured.
Michonne glanced at her sideways. "And how are you? Last time we talked you were knee deep into your investigation."
Carol exhaled a humorless laugh. "I guess you could say I'm neck deep now."
"I heard about your person of interest. Talk about deja vu."
Carol scoffed, rolling her eyes.
Michonne arched a questioning eyebrow at the nonverbal response. "You don't think it's Blake?"
"It's like having a puzzle missing its piece, and the one I have just doesn't seem to fit," she explained, then nodded in acknowledgement. "It would be easy to blame him. His past fits the crime to a point, and there is a history between him and our victim. But, in my gut, I know I'm missing something important."
"An accomplice?"
"It's something I'm considering," she sighed, "I'm leaving here to meet with someone who may have the answers I'm looking for."
"Well, if you manage to solve the case before dinnertime, we have an open seat available at my house," Michonne offered, nudging her shoulder.
Carol smiled appreciatively. "As much as I would love that, I'm pretty sure I'll be working through the night."
"Rain check, then?"
"Definitely."
Michonne waved Carol farewell as she started back towards her car parked outside the hangar, eager to get back to her office after missing nearly half a day of work in order to spend some extra time with her husband before his departure.
She had made it about halfway to her car when her cell phone started to vibrate inside her purse. She paused to retrieve it and raised an eyebrow at her son's name flashing across the screen.
"Is there a reason why you're calling me in the middle of the school day?"
"Okay, so don't be mad, but you're about to get a call from the school," Andre hurried to say.
"Why?"
"Carl may or may not have gotten into a fight."
"What?"
"Ma, you said you wouldn't get mad!"
"I never said that!" Michonne hissed, picking up the pace. "What happened?"
"I don't know for sure, but Carl's in the principal's office now. Can you get here?"
"I'm on my way," she told him, hurrying to settle into her driver's seat.
"Is Dad with you?"
"Lucky for Carl, he just took off. Who was he fighting anyway?" she demanded, still trying to wrap her head around her oldest being involved in a physical altercation of any kind.
Andre hesitated. "Ron Anderson."
"Our neighbor?" she asked, incredulous.
"...Yep."
Michonne brought a hand to her head to massage her temple, frustrated by the fact that there seemed to be another point of contention developing between her family and their new neighbors.
She couldn't dwell on it long, however, because she was receiving another incoming call. This time from the school office.
"Mom?"
"I have to go, Dre. I'll be there soon."
Jesse had to be setting some kind of new record. It was the second time in one week that she had been called into the principal's office, and it was only the first semester.
This time it was Ron's school that had called her in for a last minute, but urgent conference.
She rushed into the administrator's office and promptly pulled up short when she noticed a uniformed officer posted against the wall.
Momentarily confused, she nearly stumbled. Her wide eyes scanned the room until she eventually landed on Ron, sitting outside of the principal's suite, holding an ice pack to the swollen side of his face.
She also recognized Rick's son sitting on the other end of the available chairs, arms folded over his chest as he scowled darkly at nothing in particular.
Both boys appeared disheveled, but if she were honest, Ron looked a little worse for wear.
"What happened?" she demanded as she approached him, warily glancing up at the officer.
Ron didn't respond as he sulked further into his seat.
"Are you Mrs. Anderson?" a secretary asked from behind the front counter.
Jesse turned to her, nodding. "Yes."
"Have a seat, ma'am. Principal Mathers will be with you in a moment."
Jesse nodded and again, and quietly took a seat next to her son, assessing him as she did. His left eye was swollen, his lip was busted, and his collar hung too loosely around his neck.
"Ron, what happened?" she asked again, reaching to place a hand on his knee.
He jerked away from her touch, shifting in his seat to face away from her.
Jesse pulled back, her frown deepening. But before she could question him further the principal's door opened.
"Thank you for coming in Mrs. Grimes," Principal Mathers was saying, stepping aside to allow Michonne to pass through.
Michonne nodded to the shorter woman, eyes trained on Carl, who seemed to be shrinking a bit into his seat under her scrutiny.
"Let's go," she said to him, in an even but firm tone. The boy got up wordlessly and began to follow after her.
Michonne didn't notice Jesse until she had almost passed her by.
Jesse stood, opening her mouth to speak but unsure of what to say.
Michonne stared at her for a moment but Jesse couldn't hold her gaze. "Hi Jesse," she eventually said, almost sympathetically.
"Michonne...I..."
"Mrs. Anderson?" Principal Mathers interrupted. "You can come in now."
Jesse froze in place as if she were the one in trouble.
"I'll see you around," Michonne said with a sigh, then put a hand on her son's shoulder to steer him out of the office.
Jesse glanced down at Ron, he remained unmoved but his eyes glared at Carl as he watched him leave.
Confused and a little apprehensive, Jesse slowly walked inside of the principal's office.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Principal Mathers started, closing the door behind her.
"What's going on?" Jesse asked, wanting to get right to it. "Why is there a police officer here?"
"Officer Franklin is our designated first responder," Principal Mathers explained as she sank down into her office chair behind her desk, gesturing for Jesse to do the same in one of the available seats across from her. "There was an altercation earlier today between Ron and Carl. I've already spoken to both boys, and Carl admitted to starting the fight. Our school is ardently against physical violence of any kind, and as a result Carl will be suspended from campus for one week."
Jesse felt her shoulders slumped, a little relieved to hear that it wasn't Ron who initiated the confrontation.
"That being said," the principal continued, "after speaking with both boys, we learned that this situation is derived from another."
"What does that mean?" Jesse asked, confused.
Principal Mathers clasped her hands together, rounding her shoulders as if preparing for what she was about to say next.
"Ron has been accused of assaulting another one of our students here, a young woman named Enid Clover. Apparently, when Carl learned this information, he tried to address the matter with Ron directly before things turned violent."
It felt as if someone had snagged the rug out from Jesse. She had absolutely no words to respond to what the woman across from her was saying.
"After learning this information, I spoke with Enid myself. According to her, she and Ron were studying together after school earlier this week. She says that Ron attempted to initiate a physical encounter with her and when she did not reciprocate he became angry and aggressive. He apparently threatened her to prevent her from reporting the incident sooner."
Jesse bought a hand up to her mouth, covering her gasp.
"Mrs. Anderson, I hope you can appreciate the severity of what I'm saying."
"A-are you sure she's telling the truth?" Jesse forced herself to ask.
Principal Mathers considered for a moment before saying, "We take these accusations very seriously. After speaking with Enid, I contacted our crisis counselor and they were able to document photo evidence of the assault on Enid's person. I also spoke with Ron, and he does not deny the allegation."
Jesse's face grew warm with embarrassment, unable to find words. "I...I don't know what to say."
Principal Mathers sighed, closing the file. "Given the severity of this situation, we're going to have to expel Ron from campus. And the school board will be conducting a full investigation to determine next steps."
Jesse remained frozen in place, still shell-shocked from the bomb the principal had dropped on her.
"Mrs. Anderson? Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Unable to voice the word aloud, Jesse could only nod her head once.
"Do you have any questions for me?"
"Is she okay...Enid?"
"She's understandably shaken up," she replied, honestly.
Jesse swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded again. "I'm so sorry. About all of this."
Principal Mathers slowly rose to her feet. "You're much more apologetic than your son was," she told her plainly. "The school board will convene next Monday. They will likely call on Ron to provide his account first-hand. I'll be sending an email with the details once I have them for you."
Jesse stood as well, feeling more than a little unsteady on her feet. "Thank you," she murmured meekly as the principal reopened her door.
She couldn't even look at Ron when exited the office.
"Come on," was all she said as she stalked out of the front office, not bothering to see if he would follow or not.
She was too embarrassed, too angry, and too tired to even process everything she just learned.
And on top of it all, now both of her boys would be under school board investigations.
But what bothered her the most was the realization that Pete had a much greater influence over their children than she had previously thought. It seemed both of them had adopted some of their father's worst qualities, and it was enough to make her physically ill.
When she finally made it out of the school and into the parking lot, she had hoped that the suffocating feeling coming over her would dispel. But it only worsened.
As soon as she reached her car door, vertigo hit her hard.
She braced her hands on the roof of her car and dropped her head as she inhaled a shuddering breath to collect herself, lest she collapse onto concrete of the parking lot.
Ron paused by the passenger's side, furrowing his brows together. "Mom?"
The very sound of his voice caused her heart rate to spike.
Jesse slowly pulled herself together enough to stand up right. "Don't," she muttered, yanking her door open. "Just get in the car."
For the first time in a long time, Ron did as he was told without complaint.
Carl emerged from the hallway bathroom, after having showered away the remnants of his encounter with Ron.
He did a damage assessment while under the water. Outside of the bruise developing under his right eye, he had only incurred minor scrapes during the altercation.
Now dressed in a clean t-shirt and shorts, he used a towel to dry his hair as he entered his bedroom. He pulled up short when he saw his mother waiting for him, sifting through one of his discarded comic books as she sat on the edge of his bed.
"Feel better?" she asked, casually turning the page.
He nodded, tossing his towel aside in the nearby hamper. "Yeah, I needed that."
"I bet."
Carl inhaled as he ventured further into the room. He pulled out his desk chair and took a seat across from her, waiting for her to say what was on her mind.
"Principal Mathers told me about Enid," she said softly, setting the comic down beside her. "I wish you had come to me about it before."
"I didn't know until today," he admitted, dropping his eyes to the floor.
"But you suspected," she deduced.
Carl confirmed that with a nod. "I knew something was wrong, but she wouldn't tell me because she was afraid of him."
Michonne digested that with a heavy sigh. "Carl, I understand why you did what you did, but what do I always tell you?"
"I know, I know," he exhaled, running his fingers through his damp hair, "I shouldn't let other people pull me out of character. But, Mom, I tried to talk to him. He just twisted everything around, made it seem like Enid wanted him to do that to her!"
Michonne knew that Carl's heart was in the right place, and that he was only trying to protect his friend. It was why she found it hard to be mad at him, when really she could only empathize.
"Coach stripped me of team captain," Carl revealed quietly, "we just had a conversation about distractions and the role of a leader on the team. I know I let him down."
"He could've removed you from the team altogether. I'd say you broke even, all things considered," she reminded him.
"He still benched me from playing next week," Carl muttered.
Michonne scoffed. "Well, you did start a fight."
Carl snorted lightly, then raised his eyes to her. "Does Dad know?"
Michonne shook her head. "Not yet. I figured you can tell him yourself later."
Carl wasn't sure whether that was good or bad news, but at least he had some time to think about it. "I'm sorry for disappointing you," he said, feeling guilty about that.
Michonne pushed herself to her feet and closed the distance between them. She brought a hand up to his face, pushing back his hair to examine the yellowing bruise under his right eye. "We should put some ice on this, otherwise it'll swell."
Carl laughed lightly. "If you think that's bad, you should see the other guy," he joked, but Michonne's expression was unimpressed, and he promptly cleared his throat and apologized. "Sorry."
"You would pick a fight with the kid next door," she sighed, dropping her hand. Like father, like son, she supposed.
"Did Principal Mathers tell you whether or not he'd be suspended, too?" Carl asked.
"She didn't tell me all the details but she did mention there would be a school board review for his actions," she told him.
"That's good, isn't it?"
Michonne hesitated. "Maybe...but they would likely call in Enid to tell her side of things and that could be difficult for her."
"I want to go with her," he insisted, earnestly, "she shouldn't have to go through it alone."
"That's nice of you," she softly acknowledged, "but at the end of the day it will be Enid's decision, and no one should force her to do anything, one way or the other."
Carl conceded her point with a nod. "I just want to be there for her, you know?"
Michonne leaned down to kiss the top of his head. "I know," she said, running her fingers through his hair as she pulled away. "I'm sure she could use a friend right now."
"I was thinking of going to visit her after school, to make sure she's okay. I'm pretty sure I owe her an apology anyway."
"I'm sure you do, but it'll have to be through FaceTime. You're on lockdown, buddy."
Carl frowned. "Seriously?"
"Do I look like I'm kidding," she flatly returned.
He exhaled through his nose and glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping Macbook and charging cell phone, wondering if his punishment included being denied WiFi access. But decided against bringing it up on the off chance that Michonne hadn't thought about it.
"Yeah, okay," he said, accepting his house arrest for what it was.
"That's what I thought," Michonne replied lightly as she turned to leave the room. She paused by the doorway and looked back at him. "You did what you thought was right, and even though you may have gone about it the wrong way, I am proud of you," she told him.
"Thanks, Mom," Carl returned with a half smile.
She returned the affection, and continued out into the hall. "You're still grounded, though."
"Good afternoon folks!" Jerry enthusiastically declared through the cabin's overhead speaker system. "This is your captain speaking. We are now hovering over our destination and will be making our descent as soon as we get the all-clear from ground control. Friendly reminder, this is your last chance to move about the cabin before we land. On behalf of myself and our esteem crew, we want to thank you for flying Jer-Air."
Ezekiel looked over his shoulder, through to the open cockpit just a few feet away. "Was the intercom really necessary?" he asked flatly.
The seven-row passenger craft, though opulent, was not very big. And since there were only four passengers on board, including the pilot and co-pilot, the staticy intercom seemed a bit much.
The aircraft's co-pilot, Richard, pushed back his headset shaking his head as he leaned out into the opening of the cockpit. "I tried to stop him, sir, but he insisted."
"You know how I like to keep it profesh, Boss," Jerry replied, once again through the speaker system.
Rick chuckled at the exchange, and Ezekiel laughed a little as well as he straightened up in his seat. "As you can see our pilot is somewhat of a showoff," he said, facing forward in his seat across from him.
"You two known each other long?" Rick asked, curious.
"Back in the day, Jerry was my assistant," Ezekiel told him, his smile widening at the recollection.
Rick raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Is that right?"
Ezekiel chuckled and gestured around the cabin. "He eventually went on to bigger and better things, of course. But we've remained good friends over the years."
"It's nice to have friends in high places," Rick joked with an amused grin.
Ezekiel barked out a laugh in response. "Indeed it is."
Rick shifted his eyes to take in the view outside of his window.
"Do you come up to New York often?"
"As often as we can," Rick replied. "My in-laws live in Harlem."
"And will you be making time to visit them while we're here?" Ezekiel asked.
"Since we don't meet the investors until tomorrow, I actually planned to meet them for dinner tonight," Rick said. "What about you? You got any family up here?"
"I wish I did," he sighed, settling back into his seat with a fresh glass of iced tea, "it'd be a nice distraction."
"Distraction?"
"I'm trying not to worry about my wife too much," he admitted, exhaling heavily. "But I know this case she's working on is taking its toll on her, so it's hard not to."
"That's right. She's a police officer, isn't she?" Rick recalled.
"Detective," Ezekiel amended with a nod. "She's working on the missing persons' that's been all over the news."
Rick blinked, immediately understanding why that would concern the other man.
"To be honest, I almost canceled the trip over it," Ezekiel admitted quietly.
Upon hearing this, Rick arched his eyebrows in surprise, especially since he had considered doing something similar - albeit for a different reason.
Ezekiel huffed as he sat back in his seat. "But, you can guess how that went," he said.
"She didn't want you to put your work on hold," Rick surmised.
Ezekiel rolled his eyes as he sighed. "More like she wanted me out of her hair just so she could dedicate all of her energy solving the case."
"Carol strikes me as the type more than capable of taking care of herself," Rick eventually said, as a way of assuring the other man, "but, I know from experience that won't stop you from worrying."
"Our cross to bear for falling for independent women," Ezekiel said with a self-deprecating laugh.
"Well, you're more than welcome to join me when I meet my in-laws," Rick offered, "Michonne's mom is a hell of a cook, and she always makes too much food. Honestly, you'd be helping me out."
"That sounds promising," Ezekiel replied, enticed by the prospect.
Rick grinned. "Then, it's settled. I'll let them know when we land."
"Hello again, folks!" Jerry announced through the overhead speakers much to Ezekiel's chagrin. "We're preparing for our final descent. Please remain in your seats until the seatbelt light goes off. And, as always, thank you for flying Jer-Air."
Rick laughed a little at the announcement but Ezekiel couldn't help rolling his eyes.
"Jerry!"
Michonne had secluded herself inside of Rick's home office in an attempt to get some work done before the rest of her children arrived home.
She rarely used the space herself, preferring to work out on the patio or at the kitchen island if she did bring work home, but in her husband's absence she found comfort in his personal space.
Her caseload was dense enough to preoccupy her mind for a while, and she managed to get quite a bit of work done in a couple of hours. But, eventually, her mind began to wander.
She reclined back into Rick's executive chair, exhaling as she brought a hand up to her forehead to massage her temples.
Tried as she might to distract herself, she couldn't help but mull over the growing contest between her family and the neighboring Anderson's.
Today's latest events were more than a little concerning, and she would be lying if she said she knew what to do about it.
Then, there was the disturbing video Judith had given her that morning, currently burning a hole into the front pocket of her briefcase.
With that in mind, her eyes drifted over to said briefcase. She drummed her fingers agitatedly against the chair's armrest in contemplation until she finally reached for it, and retrieved the SD card she stored there for the time being.
Michonne pushed the small memory chip into her laptop port and slid her mouse pad to click on the prompt to open the video.
She watched and rewatched the short clip, wanting desperately to believe it was just an innocuous moment captured on film.
But there was a feeling in her gut that said otherwise.
Earlier that day, in their brief passing outside of the principal's office, Michonne tried to assess Jesse, searching for answers to questions she could not bring herself to voice aloud in that moment.
The other woman looked understandably confused given their predicament, but there was timidness there as well. As if she were afraid of something.
Michonne sighed, thinking maybe she was reading too much into it.
The only way she would be able to find out for certain was to speak to Jesse directly, but their plans to meet for coffee had been long since derailed thanks to their oldest sons.
She glanced down at the clock on her laptop, wondering if she had time to go over there now.
The sound of her own front door opening seconds later effectively postponed that idea.
"Mommy! We're home!" RJ announced, followed by the sound of footsteps trampling in through the foyer.
Michonne considered the paused video on her laptop screen once more before closing the device, to go and greet her children.
"Hey," Daryl greeted her as she rounded the corner. He was the last to come through the front door, holding a solemn looking Maya in his arms.
"Hey," Michonne returned, nearing them. "Everything okay, Munchkin?"
Maya sniffled and nodded her head, buried in the crook of her uncle's neck.
"Had an incident when she realized R-I-C-K was already G-O-N-E," Daryl explained, spelling out Rick's name to avoid triggering another meltdown.
Michonne smiled sympathetically for her daughter. "How about some ice cream? Would you like that?"
Maya lifted her watery doe eyes to her mother. "With blueberries?"
Michonne's smile turned indulgent at the anticipated request. "Yes ma'am."
Maya considered for about five seconds, then nodded. "Okay."
"Go put your bookbag away, and I'll have a bowl waiting for you when you come back downstairs."
Daryl set the toddler down on the ground and she quickly made her way up the steps, spurred on by the prospect of the treat.
"That was easy enough," Daryl mumbled, watching in amazement at how quickly the five-year-old's mood could change.
"Bribery works wonders," Michonne said, turning to head towards the kitchen. "Are you sticking around?"
"Figured I'd stay for dinner. What's cookin'?" he asked, following behind her.
"No idea," Michonne sighed, "It's been a day, and I haven't given it much thought."
They entered the kitchen to find Judith seated at the kitchen island, skeptically eyeing Carl who stood in front of the open refrigerator.
Daryl raised his eyebrows at the sight of the teenager. "Ain't you supposed to be at practice?"
Carl looked up, his expression sheepish. "Uh, yeah...about that."
"What about it?" he pressed, taking a seat next to Judith.
"And what happened to your face?" Judith added with a similarly confused tone.
Carl suddenly found the contents inside of the refrigerator much more interesting as he muttered, "I got suspended today."
Both Daryl and Judith lifted their eyebrows at his omission.
"Come again?"
Carl looked at Michonne for help, but she just shrugged. "Go on and tell him."
With a sigh, he closed the refrigerator with an apple in hand and turned around to lean against it, revealing his bruised eye. "I got into a fight."
"With who?" Judith demanded, incredulous.
"Ron."
"Who the hell's that?" Daryl asked.
"The kid next door?" Judith frowned and glanced at her mother before shifting her eyes back to Carl. "Our new neighbor? Seriously?"
This time, Michonne intervened. "It's a long story, but Carl's going to stay home from school for the next week."
"No way," Judith breathed, eyes wide, "you were suspended? What happened?"
Carl was momentarily saved from explaining as his youngest siblings stampeded into the kitchen.
"Mommy! I'm ready for my ice cream now!" Maya proclaimed.
"I want some, too!" RJ added, but then he saw that everyone in the room was focused on Carl. "What happened to your face?" he asked.
Carl sighed and pushed himself off the refrigerator to open the adjacent icebox, retrieving a pint of ice cream.
Daryl snorted. "Did you win at least?"
"Daryl," Michonne chastised, taking the pint from Carl as she did.
When her back was turned, Carl nodded and grinned at his uncle.
Daryl smirked and silently fist-bumped him.
"I saw that," Michonne said without turning.
Judith and RJ snickered, because it was a well known fact their mother had eyes in the back of her head.
"Can I call Daddy now?" Maya asked, completely uninterested in the conversation at hand.
At the mention of their father's name, Carl blanched. "He might still be in the air, Maya," he said quickly, wanting to stave off unavoidable for as long as possible.
"He'll call us when he's settled, Munchkin," Michonne said placatingly as she brought two bowls and the pint of ice cream over to the breakfast nook for her and RJ.
"Okay," the youngest Grimes mumbled, following her mother to take a seat.
"So, what's your plan?" Daryl asked, stopping Carl before he could leave the kitchen.
Carl turned on his heels to face him. "My plan?"
Daryl nodded. "Now that you've been kicked out of school and all?"
"I wasn't kicked out for good," Carl frowned, "just a week."
Daryl arched an unimpressed eyebrow. "You plan on sitting around on your ass for a week?"
Blinking, Carl stammered. "Uh...I guess?"
"Nah," Daryl drawled, shaking his unkempt mane, "you're coming to work with me."
"I am?"
Daryl shrugged. "I could use the extra pair of hands while your dad's away anyway."
"I think that's a great idea," Michonne inserted.
"Can I go to work with Uncle Daryl?" RJ asked her.
"Why? Did you get suspended too?" Michonne asked.
RJ immediately shook his head. "No!"
"Then, it looks like your schedule's already full, buddy," she said, winking at him. Then, she turned to look at Carl. "But, as for you."
Carl didn't need to be convinced. It was honestly a better prospect than being bored in the house for a week. "Yeah, okay. I'm game."
"Good," Daryl nodded, "be ready when I come pick up the kids for drop off. Don't wear any of those fancy sneakers either, you'll regret it."
Carl grinned. "Okay. What will we be working on anyway?"
Daryl looked over his shoulder at Michonne. "Rick still leaves copies of our blueprints in his office?"
Michonne nodded. "There's a bunch on his drafting table."
Daryl pushed himself to his feet, and tapped Carl on his shoulder as he passed. "Come on."
Michonne watched them go, then exhaled in relief. With Carl out of the house during the day, there was less of a chance he would have another run-in with the Anderson boy.
"Are you okay, Mommy?" Maya asked. Even at her young age, she was keen enough to notice when her mother was distracted.
Michonne smiled at her, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I'm fine, baby. Eat your ice cream, then both of you start on your homework. Let me know if you need help."
"Okay, Mommy!"
With her oldest taken care of and her younger ones distracted for the time being, Michonne headed back over towards the refrigerator to figure out what to do for dinner.
She playfully tugged on Judith's ponytail as she passed. "How was your day, Bug?" she asked.
Judith shrugged as she toyed with her camera. "It was okay, I guess."
"Just okay?"
Judith rolled her eyes. "I received some constructive feedback from Ms. Thorne about my class project."
"Constructive is good, isn't it?" Michonne asked, sifting through the refrigerator for ingredients.
"She told me to worry less about theatrics and focus more on the story I'm trying to tell."
Michonne nodded, emerging with a pack of chicken and some heirloom tomatoes. "Sometimes less is more," she reasoned. "What kind of story are you trying to tell?"
Judith sighed as she packed away her camera. "Ms. Thorne asked me the same thing. Is it bad that I don't know yet?"
Michonne shook her head. "Not at all. Try looking at things from a different perspective. Maybe stay away from setting off fireworks in the woods. That could be the theatrics your teacher was referencing."
Judith shot her eyes up in surprise. "How did you..."
"I have my ways," Michonne replied lightly.
Judith huffed, truly amazed that her mother seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere. "Back to the drawing board, I guess."
She left the kitchen to do just that, only to backtrack a few moments later.
"Hey Mom?"
"Hmm?" Michonne hummed without looking up from the cutting board.
"Did you have a chance to look into that other thing we talked about this morning?" Judith asked, being intentionally vague.
Michonne paused, knife in hand to cut the tomatoes. "I'm working on it. Why?"
Judith glanced over at RJ and Maya, happily consuming the afternoon treat, before silently waving her mother over.
Michonne set the knife aside, and neared her.
"The police are next door," Judith whispered when she was close enough.
With wide eyes, Michonne followed her daughter to the bay windows in the family room. Sure enough a police car and unmarked car were parked outside of the Anderson residence.
"What do you think is going on?" Judith asked, looking up at her mother.
Worry lines creased Michonne's forehead as she shook her head. "I don't know, baby."
Jesse rushed to her front door to answer to firm knocking on the other side.
She assumed it was Milton Mamet coming back to throw more thinly veiled threats her way. After the mentally exhausting day she's had, she was more than ready to verbally tear him a new one for having the audacity to come back here.
But as she swung the door open her anger immediately dissipated, replaced by a sharp spike of anxiety.
"Mrs. Anderson?"
Jesse stared wide eyed at the young woman in front of her, flanked by two stoic-faced uniformed police officers. "Y-yes?"
"I'm Detective Espinosa. Is your husband Pete Anderson?"
"Yes, but he's not here right now," Jesse responded nervously, "I don't know where he is."
The detective glanced back at her companions, then nodded back to Jesse. "We'd like to ask you some questions. May we come in?"