A Mile In My Shoes

The stranger they'd just rescued from Walkers glanced round the group, appraising his audience with some foreboding, their filthy faces ranging from curiosity to suspicion to pity. He was a man of the cloth judging by his plain black shirt and trousers, one hand tugging at his surprisingly white dog collar, as if trying to ease its stiffness. But Rick mused this could all merely be a masquerade to lower their guard, his opinion of the stranger not improved any when he suddenly threw up in front of them all. The stranger then clumsily wiped his mouth with the back of his other hand, before straightening up, hastily backtracking from the pile of vomit at his feet.

"Th- thank - you," he gasped, "I'm – I'm Father Gabriel." On impulse, he held his hand out to Rick, who was closest, only to limply drop it to his side when it became apparent Rick wasn't going to return the gesture.

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Rick asked abrubtly, studying Gabriel, taking him in from top to toe with a swift assessing glance.

"Do – do I look like I have any weapons?" Gabriel stuttered in disbelief, gesturing at the corpses littering the ground around him, all dead but not by his hand.

"We don't give two short and curlies what it looks like," Abraham said coldly, silencing Gabriel's stammering.

Imogen shifted uncomfortably on the spot, not liking the way almost everybody was looking at Gabriel, as if they despised him for being so obviously weak. It came too close to how they might come to view Kit, if not already. Her own group had been largely made up of those like Gabriel; either the old and very young, or people still living in the past who wouldn't or couldn't fight, relying on those who faced reality to survive. As though instinctively sensing her sympathy, Gabriel glanced at her, desperately trying to find a foothold in the negative atmosphere starting to unfurl around him.

"What – what a beautiful child," he smiled nervously, coming over to Imogen as he spoke, his attention focused on Judith in her arms.

Rick suddenly stepped in front of them, blue eyes like ice, gun drawn and raised. "Where are your fuckin' weapons?" he said quietly, his finger curling around the trigger.

Gabriel took a terrified step back, hands held up in silent supplication. "I – I – I - don't need weapons," he gabbled, glancing around at the others for help that wasn't forthcoming, "the – the – the word of God is the only protection I need."

"Bullshit," Rick spat, only for Imogen to grab his arm, making him round on her.

"What the hell are you doing, Rick!?" Imogen hissed, hurriedly handing Judith to Maggie, seeing he was on the edge of shooting Gabriel where he stood.

"Just get the hell back."

But Imogen put herself between Gabriel and the gun. "Only if you back off," she threatened as Rick instantly lowered his weapon, everyone tensing at this unexpected development.

Rick looked at her for a long moment, jaw tightening. "See, this is precisely what got your people killed," he hissed, stooping down so he was eye-level with her, "takin' everythin' and everyone at face value. We don't know this dickhead from fuckin' Adam, so when I say get back, you get back, right?"

"What, you say jump and I say how high!?"

"Now you're just puttin' words in my mouth" –

-"No, you're just acting like you're my lord and master" –

Rick ran his hand down the side of his beard, on his last nerve. "Look, just… just be quiet, OK?" he said, voice cracking, gun still in his grip, "That's all I'm askin' "–

"Don't you ever tell me to shut up, cowboy!" Imogen exploded, nostrils flaring. "Not unless you want a black eye."

"You threatenin' me!?"

"Hey," Kit protested, limping forwards, throwing off Glenn's restraining grip, "don't bloody speak to my sister like that!"

"Well, somebody has to, right?"

"Fuck you!" Imogen snapped, rounding on Rick.

"Like I said, all in good time," Rick hissed in her ear, stooping down as he did, ensuring only Imogen heard him, making her draw back in disgust. "And you can just butt out, pretty boy," he then aimed at Kit, pointing at him. "Nobody needs your two cents."

"Oh, I just knew you were a jumped-up-dyed-in-the-wool bastard," Kit said scathingly, his voice dripping with disgust, ignoring the collective shocked gasp from the rest of the group, "but I shouldn't be surprised, considering the fact you were a fucking cop, corrupt to the roots no doubt" –

-"Better that than bein' a washed up wannabe rockstar who should know better" –

- "Get a room already, folks," Abraham muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Let's all just get our head in the game, OK?" Michonne interceded with a pointed glance at Rick's gun, her tone deceptively amiable. "Find some shelter, supplies" –

-"You obviously don't know this prick," Kit complained, limping further forwards, making Rick ready himself, "but I do, and he's a complete cunt. You need sorted out, Grimes"-

- "Well, what you gonna do about it, huh?" Rick fired at Kit, leaning past Imogen as she impatiently tried to push him back, only to end up clutching futilely at the front of his torn t-shirt instead. "Go on, tell me, I'm just dyin' to know" -

- "Why don't we all just calm the hell down," Glenn said in a raised voice, stepping into the storm, "and talk about this later, yeah? There's a time and a place, huh?"

Rick met Glenn's gaze, holding it for a long moment, seeing the silent plea for him to stand down. "There's nothin' to talk about," he then said coldly, and not with some difficulty, but he stowed away his gun all the same, forcing himself to get a grip.

To his relief, Imogen didn't say anything else, finally letting go of him. But her grey eyes were accusing, echoing Kit's expression.

Shoulders tensing, Rick then faced Gabriel again, studying his scared face. As soon as Gabriel had made the fatal error of taking one footstep in Imogen and Judith's direction, Rick had just snapped, seeing red. And Imogen's interference had just escalated an already inflammatory situation, her brother's big mouth only adding to it.

"Please… I'm – I'm – I'm not a threat," Gabriel pleaded, wringing his shaking hands, "I only came out here to find some food..." He glanced round them all again, Carl suddenly coming forwards, indicating for Gabriel to hold out his hands.

"It's not much," Carl said, tipping the pecans into Gabriel's outstretched palms, ignoring his father's admonitory glance, "but it's all we have."

"I bless you for sharing it," Gabriel said, inclining his head. "Do – do you have a camp?"

"No," Rick snapped, cutting across Carl as he was about to answer Gabriel. "Do you?"

"I – I have a church" -

- "Raise your hands above your head," Rick ordered, startling Gabriel. "Now!"

Gabriel lifted his arms up, careful to keep hold of the precious pecans, flinching as Rick began to pat him down.

"How many Walkers have you killed?" Rick demanded

"Not – not any actually" -

- "How many people have you killed?"

"N – none."

"Why?"

"Because the Lord abhors violence," Gabriel said, looking at Rick like he was mad.

"What have you done?" Rick hissed, circling Gabriel.

Gabriel turned wildly on the spot, only to step into the pile of vomit, making everybody glance away, disgusted despite their varying emotions.

"We've all done somethin'," Rick snarled, still circling him, "so what did you do!?"

"I'm a sinner," Gabriel said stiffly, trying to claw back his courage, "I sin almost every day. But those sins I confess to God, not strangers."

And I'm sick of all my judges

They're so scared of letting me shine

But I know that I can make it

As long as somebody takes me home…