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The World We Live In

The Stages

“When grief is deepest, words are fewest.” — Ann Voskamp



The air was still. There wasn’t even a hint of a breeze.

The air was heavy. It was filled with everyone’s fear, anxiety, worry, but also hope.

The air was electric. All of Hilltop was one metaphorical strike of flint away from an eruption of firepower and chaos; both organized and not.

Cars and trucks and even a school bus had been pulled into position in several layers of protection just within the entrance gate. Members of the Militia, armed with guns, stood behind the vehicles and other barricades to keep themselves as safe as possible while they awaited the impending arrival of the Saviors at their doorstep. All around them, night had fallen and all was dark, save for a few lights around the house. Windows along the front, right side and back of the house were temporarily boarded up with slats of wood to protect those inside from errant bullets that might strike at the windows. The wood might not do much, but it would certainly be a deterrent and slow the any bullets down.

On the upper porch, overlooking it all, Maggie stood, as if keeping vigil. The double doors beside her were wide open, allowing Georgie easy access as she stepped out and joined the pregnant widow at her side.

“I hate when it’s quiet like this,” Georgie commented, wearing her leather jacket that Rick had brought with them from Alexandria. Not every night, but some nights were cooler than others, and this was in which some people needed that light jacket. “It’s that calm before the storm.”

Maggie nodded, ever so slightly; her focus solely ahead of them. “The sooner it starts, the sooner this can end,” she replied, referring to, not just the fight, but the war as a whole.

From one of the watch posts beside the entrance gate, Jerry lifted his binoculars to his eyes. After a moment, he turned and signaled toward the house with a few waves of his hand.

Turning toward Georgie, Maggie looked her in the eye and gave her a more acknowledging nod. “Here we go.”

Without another word toward each other, both women ducked back inside of the house, shutting the double doors behind them. Georgie began to call out orders to those in the house; that those with children should keep far away from the windows and low to the ground, or in closets where possible. Maggie moved around toward the top of the staircase and made the announcement toward everyone else waiting to fight from within the house.

“Alright, everyone. Saviors are here. Get in your places and get ready,” her voice bellowed, echoing off the walls. Walking back out onto the upper porch with Georgie just inside the double doors with a gun in her hand, Maggie pulled a walkie-talkie up to her lips and pressed the button so she could speak into it. “Negan. I want to talk to Negan.”

The other end of the radio frequency clicked. “Well, hello there. You are speaking to Negan,” a slightly familiar voice replied. “But my birth certificate says ‘Simon.’ With whom do I have the distinct displeasure of speaking?”

“Maggie. Maggie Rhee. The Widow,” she replied, as Georgie stepped back out onto the upper porch again as well, but this time also with Dianne, a soldier from the Kingdom.

“Well, then. Hello again, Widow Rhee, and allow me to offer my condolences; for what’s happened and what’s about to happen. In case it’s not already plain as Hilltop potatoes, yours truly is speaking of Negan this go ‘round. And I assure you that the man himself personally received your care package next day delivery. I noticed it was the box that I gave you in good faith—trick’s on me. But the bill’s come due, and you and your people are gonna have to pay. Quite dearly, I’m afraid.”

As Savior POWs, and even Gregory, were brought out onto the upper porch with their hands bound, Maggie kept her eyes trained forward. She clicked the walkie-talkie to reply again. “Your thirty-eight people are alive and breathing. Turn around and leave us be, and they stay that way. But if you don’t, I have thirty-eight bullets that I will personally fire into all thirty-eight.” Removing her thumb from the button, Maggie turned the walkie-talkie away from her and instead held it up to a rather handsome, young male behind her. Replacing her thumb upon the button, she clicked it on for him to speak into it.

“It’s too nice a night to spend dyin’ slow, don’t you think, Simon?” the young man asked.

Maggie removed her finger from the button, turned back forward and then clicked the walkie-talkie back on for herself. “How’s this gonna go?”

“Well, Maggie Rhee, this is highly regrettable, but the way I see it, the Saviors you’re in possession of there are damaged goods. You know, they’ve got themselves into their own pickle, and this organization prizes those who, ‘A,’ avoid capture and, ‘B,’ figure out their own shit when said outcome eventuates. Which, in the end, is my way of saying screw them.

“Did you really think that cockamamie play would work?” Gregory questioned.

“It will,” Maggie insisted; stalwart in her resolve.

Silently, they all waited for what would come next.

After only a minute or two, the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle engine came from somewhere off toward the right, along with a barrage of rapid gunfire. The entrance gates were pulled open and in slipped Daryl on his bike. Having known in advance that there probably wouldn’t be enough time to close the gates once Daryl was in, a Militia member behind the wheel of the school bus quickly drove the elongated vehicle forward. And just in time, too, as a truck being driven by a Savior flew in and struck the bus; preventing it from going any further inside.

“Now!” Maggie shouted.

All at once, gunfire from the Militia rang out as they popped up from behind their barricades and took aim. Those Saviors trying to climb out the back of that initial truck were struck down before they feet touched the ground; either dead on the spot or badly injured. Each Savior that began to run inside was struck down like glass bottles in a carnival ball toss game.

A moment later, retaliation came in the form of arrows flying through the air and striking a few of the POWs on the upper porch and a few Militia members down below. Only a couple of hits were fatal. The rest seemed to be simply superficial wounds that those struck would be able to survive from after receiving medical attention, and if Maggie allowed it in regard to the POWs. Arrows flying through the air in the dark, however, wasn’t ideal, since it was hard to see them coming, so everyone on the upper porch was forced to drop down below the barricaded railing or behind the columns.

“Take the prisoners to my office. Hold ‘em there ‘til it’s done,” Maggie ordered, looking back at Dianne.

“Let’s go. Go,” Dianne ushered. “Inside! Get inside!”

As the POWs and Gregory followed her inside, the younger man from before came up behind her. “I can help you defend this place,” he offered. “I want to. Please, Maggie. You think I got a reason to be loyal to these people?” He didn’t get to finish when Georgie pulled him away and shoved him inside the house.

“Maggie, you coming?” Georgie asked, looking back at the younger woman.

“Where the hell is he?” she was muttering. Before following after Georgie, she shouted out, “Lookouts! Fall back! Front line, give ‘em cover!”

Despite the Militia’s continued gunfire, amidst the arrows being shot in their direction, Saviors still managed to get inside the community. There were shouts from both sides; that of orders between each other and from pain due to injuries sustained.

Several minutes later, Maggie fired a shot from just within the double doors; taking out the upper porch’s light.

Flash bombs were set off, gunfire kept on going, and all lights that were lit from any vehicles were shot out; creating absolute darkness within the community. The only light source came from the stars above and the full moon in the sky above. Beyond that, the Saviors would have to rely on their eyesight adjusting to the darkness to help them move around and see.

And then, suddenly, there was silence.

The gunfire ceased, arrows stopped flying and no one was shouting.

The air was once again still, heavy and electric.

The windows, both upstairs and downstairs, to the left of the house were open. They faced out onto the side of the house where the Saviors began creeping out into the open. Slowly, they began to spread out, in an attempt to make their way around the full circumference of the house to surround it.

When a single Savior began the sing-song whistling, with the Saviors possibly thinking they had some sort of upper hand, Militia members within the vehicles parked alongside the house turned on the high beams and gunfire from the windows. Several more Saviors were taken out and their shouts of surprise were muffled by the bullets, that didn’t hit them, were ricocheting off wooden and metal surfaces around and behind them. As they began to flee, high beams on the Militia vehicles just within the entrance gate were turned on, blinding the Saviors for a moment, and new gunfire from the ground began.

Georgie and Maggie had both been two of those firing out the windows and when Maggie ran for the stairs, Georgie followed after her.

“Maggie, stay inside,” Georgie called after, knowing what the younger woman was about. “Maggie.”

“I gotta see him. I gotta look him in the eyes,” she called back over her shoulder. She was out the front door and down the front steps like a bat out of hell with Georgie hot on her trail.

Both women ran forward firing off a shot here and there at retreating Saviors, although most had already managed to escape into their trucks outside the walls and were beginning to drive away, so they ran outside the walls, with Rick appearing at their side. They fired more shots at the vehicles in a last ditch attempt at killing any Saviors they could until they ran out of bullets, but it was all for nothing. The Saviors in the vehicles were too far away and tucked safely away as they escaped with their tails between their legs.

The three of them stood there, breathing heavily, as they watched the taillights fade away in the distance.

“I wanted them dead,” Maggie bit out, angrily. “All of ‘em. Negan most of all.”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Did you see him?” Maggie asked; her voice shaking a little.

“He wasn’t here,” he replied. “I saw him out there. I broke away and tried to kill him. I didn’t, but I tried.”

Inhaling a steadying breath, Maggie sniffled a bit. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Rick turned and looked at her, and then she at him. He didn’t respond verbally, but he did offer her a sort of nod. As she turned away and began to walk back inside of the walls, Rick turned his attention over at Georgie. “Is Judith okay?” he asked.

“She is. Tucked safely away with the other kids.”

Rick nodded his approval and his gratitude over not having lost another child in less than twenty-four hours. “Thank you,” he remarked. Then, reaching a hand out to her elbow, he touched his fingers to it. “Are you okay?”

Georgie smirked slightly and nodded back at him. “I’m unscathed.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“You’re not looking so hot.” The hand from the arm he was touching she lifted up to touch the side of his face where he was cut near the temple; near the same spot where she’d been cut by the glass from that SUV window being shot.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. With a last ditch look in the direction the Saviors had fled, he gestured toward the inside of the Hilltop community. “Let’s get inside.”

Following him in, they didn’t bother looking behind them as they made their way up toward the house. Militia members came out of the woodwork and began the task of moving the Savior vehicles away from the entrance so that the gates could be closed. The task of cleaning up and tending to their injured was soon to be the next order of business, but first the pair both wanted to get inside and check on Judith before anything else.

Those that were injured were sent toward the medical trailer to be looked at by Dana, the Kingdom’s doctor, and also by Siddiq. Those of their dead would have to be gathered up for burial, and those Saviors lying dead within the community would be removed outside the walls to be disposed of there. Their bodies would not be allowed to be laid to rest within Hilltop’s fences, beside fallen Militia members.

After the POWs were led out of Maggie’s office and back outside to the pen where they’d been kept since arriving to Hilltop, Maggie retreated into the office and was soon joined by Rick, Georgie, Michonne, Carol, Ezekiel and Daryl. Each of them began to talk over how things had gone and Hilltop’s current status, in regard to injuries, deaths, destruction and resources following the fight. Rick also recounted his tête-à-tête with Negan and his regret that he had been unable to kill Negan, and that Negan had gotten away. They learned that one of the major injuries was that of Tobin, who was being looked after in the medical trailer, but there was no way to tell just yet if his injuries were fatal or if he’d eventually make a full recovery.

When their discussion began to peter out, it was Ezekiel who made the call that they should all retreat to their own quarters for the night.

“There is little to be done until the first light of day returns to us,” he spoke in his usual kingly speak. “We shall then begin to clean up, to repair what has been broken and better assess what has been done and what needs to be done. Now, we should all get rest. We are no good to each other deprived of sleep. We won this battle tonight, and tomorrow is a new day to fight again.”

Carol seemed to smirk a little and began to follow the King out, with Daryl taking a moment to follow suit. Michonne, however, chose to remain behind in the office with Maggie a while longer while Georgie ushered Rick out with her.

The two of them made their way upstairs, several paces behind the former three; slowly and wearily. They were now about two days without any sleep and they were beyond exhausted. They were beyond running on fumes. The metaphorical engines were sputtering and ready to cease any and all function. Whatever they’d managed to do up until this point was likely the result of pure adrenaline and sheer force of will.

With nods and quiet utterances of goodnight to the others, Rick and Georgie slipped inside of their room, where Judith had already been placed in a crib and was fast asleep. They walked up to the crib, looking down at her; admiring her peaceful face as she slept. When Rick adjusted Judith’s blanket around her shoulders, Georgie stepped back and wandered over to the bed. Taking her knife out of its sheath, she cut off a corner of the sheet under the bed’s duvet and waited until Rick turned toward her.

“Here,” she whispered and gestured toward the side of his face. “You’re still bleeding.”

Accepting the piece of cotton material, he held it to his right temple walked silently around to the other side of the room; coming to stop at the tallboy dresser. He set the material down for a moment and then began to remove his utility belt from his waist and set it atop the dresser. He removed his boots as well, and when he turned around, he did so without the material, but with his Colt. Walking over to the bed, where Georgie was already perched, sans boots and knife, Rick looked at her briefly before laying his gun down on the nightstand nearest his side of the bed.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” he repeated his earlier claim to her.

Slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed with his shoulders slumping forward a bit. Wincing, he reached down for his belt and undid it. Removing it from the loops of his pants were a considerable relief for his waist and, after setting it down beside his Colt on the nightstand, he turned his body and brought his legs up onto the mattress. Rick released an audible sigh of contentment over the comfort he felt at being able to lie down and relax. While Georgie did the same beside him, they just stared upward toward the ceiling for a while in complete silence.

After a while, Rick rolled onto his left side to face her. “Turn around,” he whispered.

Without a word, Georgie obliged him, turning to lay on her left side as well. Shifting closer toward her, Rick shoved his left arm under his pillow and his right arm around her waist so that he could bring his hand to rest upon her stomach and hold her close to him. Tipping his nose into her hair, he inhaled her scent for a moment, and then lifted his head so that he could place a brief kiss to her shoulder.

He didn’t say goodnight to her, and she didn’t expect him to.

They were both too tired to say anything by this point and had too much on their mind to distract them anyway.

Instead, they just laid there in silence with their eyes open, thinking about nothing and yet everything, until their eyelids became too heavy to remain open and sleep conquered them for the night.



Bright and early in the morning, when normally Rick and Georgie would already be awake and having already started their day, they were still dead asleep. No longer were they wrapped around each other. Now they were sprawled out, sleeping awkwardly and snoring. They’d been so exhausted the night before they were out cold not long after their heads hit the pillow and their bodies really needed this. A bomb could’ve gone off and they probably wouldn’t have heard it. They certainly didn’t hear Judith wake up or Michonne tiptoeing into their room to take the girl and get her breakfast. She left them in peace to sleep in a little longer and closed the door behind them as quietly as she could. Not that it mattered, though. They wouldn’t have heard her either way.

It was Rick who stirred first; something in the back of his sleeping mind telling him something was off. As his eyes began to slowly peel open, he was staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling and was starting to feel concerned as to where he was. For a fleeting moment he wondered if maybe he’d been struck on the back of the head by a Savior the night before and was only just now waking up, tied up and stowed away somewhere. It would explain why the weight pressing down on his legs, preventing him from moving them. Craning his neck, he looked down his body and suddenly remembered where he was, and that the weight on his legs was Georgie. He was lying diagonally on the bed, on his back, with both her legs draped over his while she laid face down beside him. Her head was buried under a pillow, with her untamed curls sticking out underneath and the top sheet was twisted around her midsection. The duvet, meanwhile, had found its way to the floor sometime during the night.

Sitting up, Rick straightened himself on the bed; reaching down to move Georgie’s legs off him in the process. Running a hand over his face, he slouched forward a bit as he took in the room and then over at the small bedside clock that said it was nine in the morning. He was impressed. He never got to sleep in this late. In Alexandria, he was always up at dawn, dressed and out the door to walk the perimeter to check that everything was aces. When his eyes diverted over toward Judith’s temporary crib, that’s when that off feeling that had woken him up suddenly made sense.

He had never heard her wake up and now she was gone. If Georgie had been gone, too, he would’ve been able to easily deduce that Judith was with her, but Georgie was beside him in bed, still sleeping. He had no idea where she was. Had she climbed out and wandered off alone? Was she hurt?

Thoughts like that quickly began to bombard his mind, but then he was able to squash them all just as quickly with more logical thoughts.

If Judith had climbed out of the crib and wandered off, someone would’ve found her. This community was filled to the brim with extra people from three different communities, plus Maggie’s POWs. And, if Judith had been hurt or any other kind of emergency in regard to her had come up, someone would’ve woken him and Georgie up and dragged their asses out of bed lickety-split.

Judith was fine, wherever she was, with whoever had her.

They probably heard her crying and, because Rick and Georgie had been dead asleep, come in and got her.

At least, Rick was about eighty-five to ninety percent sure that’s what happened.

Turning to look over at Georgie, he placed a hand on her back and gave her a shake and then knocked the pillow off her head. “We need to get up,” he announced, not bothering to keep his voice low and soft as he would normally.

Georgie groaned in response; lifting a hand up and making a random gesture as if swatting an invisible fly away. She mumbled something after that which sounded something akin to wanting to know what time it was.

Running with that, Rick told her it was a little after nine.

After a brief moment, her head popped up and she looked right at him with a sense of panic in her eyes. “Judith,” she muttered.

“Isn’t here,” he replied. He gestured toward the crib and shrugged. “I think someone came and got her while we were sleeping. I didn’t hear anyone come in, though, and since no one woke us up, we can assume she’s fine and being cared for.”

Rick turned and tossed his legs over the edge of his side of the bed. Shifting forward a bit more, he planted his feet on the ground while simultaneously standing up. He winced and flexed his shoulders backward and then rubbed his left trapezius muscle which felt tight; and the only reason Rick knew that’s what it was called was because he’d once had to go to a chiropractor for pulling that muscle while on the job years ago. And what helped him remember the name was that it always made him think of trapeze artists and how they must’ve had pulled muscles all the time from grabbing onto each other’s arms and flinging themselves around in mid-air.

“I’m gonna go see who has her,” he continued to speak after a moment.

Rick grabbed his Colt and his belt off the bedside table; putting the latter on. After walking to the tallboy dresser and grabbing his utility belt, he holstered his gun and then put that belt on as well. Without saying anything else to Georgie, he opened up the bedroom door and walked out.

If Georgie was an idiot, she would start wondering if he was upset with her because of how distant he was being. But Georgie was not an idiot. She recognized his actions and the way he spoke and was moving through his life right now like a robot. He was just going through the motions and he needed to keep moving, moving, moving; because if he stopped, he’d end up dwelling on his loss and he didn’t have time to dwell on it right now. He couldn’t afford to dwell on it right now. Georgie had been there, done that and gotten the T-shirt.

Rick was going through the five stages of grief, but he wasn’t going through them completely in order. Normally, it was denial, anger, bargaining, depression and then acceptance. Rick had done the denial and bargaining first; gotten them out of the way. Right now, he was in depression and Georgie could sense anger was just around the bend. She figured that once this fight with the Saviors was over, he could finally take a step back and look at everything that had transpired and finally come to acceptance.

Of course, acceptance never really stuck.

Georgie still, to this day, found it hard to accept that both Tristan and Avery were gone and never coming back, but she did it anyway, because it was the only way to move forward and focus on the people in her life that were alive and needed her, and that she also needed.

Not long after Rick left the room, Georgie went and used the bathroom. She paused at the double doors to the upper porch, which were open and letting in a nice breeze, and stepped out just a little. Life was buzzing again as cleaning up went on. She didn’t see Judith with anyone outside and when she stepped back inside, she was about to make her way toward the stairs when she spotted Barbara and another woman with a small group of children; ushering them into one of the downstairs rooms and each child seemed to be holding a toy of some sort and looked happy.

Content in knowing Judith really was okay, Georgie slipped back toward her and Rick’s temporary room and shut the door. There was a small table near the tallboy dresser with an old fashioned porcelain pitcher set within a matching porcelain bowl. She knew the pitcher to be filled water and, on the bottom shelf of the small table, there sat a small bottle of shampoo, a wash cloth, and an unwrapped bar of soap. Even though the bathroom upstairs had a shower, and it was a working shower, Georgie didn’t know how many people had been through it already, and doubted there would be any hot water left and she wasn’t really in the mood to be bothered with a cold shower. She was content to sponge bathe and wash her hair with the bowl and pitcher. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d cleaned herself up with little to work with and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last time either.

When she was done, she poured the soapy, dirty water from the bowl carefully back into the pitcher. She laid the wash cloth out to air dry by hanging it on one of the tallboy dresser’s knobs and then went to dig through one of their duffel bags; knowing Rick had packed a few clothing essentials for the three of them. She changed into a fresh pair of underwear and socks, and put on a new shirt, but her bra and her jeans remained the same. She said a silent thanks to Rick for managing to pack her hairbrush and worked her way through the endless snarls as best as she could.

Once she felt she was finished and ready for the day, she wandered out of the bedroom with the full pitcher and walked out onto the upper porch. Looking down over the edge of the barricaded railing, she made sure no one was directly below and dumped the water out onto the ground. She returned the pitcher to the bowl in her and Rick’s room and made her way downstairs. At the bottom, she walked over and ducked her head into the room where all the kids were and smiled upon seeing Barbara was trying to get them to play ‘Duck, Duck, Goose.’ On her way outside, she was greeted by Michonne who was walking up with two turnips in her hand.

“Morning,” she greeted.

“Morning,” Georgie repeated.

“I hope I didn’t give you and Rick a scare earlier.” Michonne held the turnips out to Georgie and then placed her hands on her hips. “I walked by your room and heard Judy whining, but didn’t hear either of you. Thought maybe the two of you were already up and didn’t know she was awake, so I came in and then realized you were both asleep.”

Georgie nodded. “Rick figured as much. He just didn’t know who came in and got her.”

Michonne held a hand up and smirked. “Guilty as charged.”

Looking down at the turnips in her hands, Georgie grimaced; wondering how much longer they’d be eating them for every meal. With food low, despite what Other Georgie had given them, turnips were still the only main food source at the moment within Hilltop, and even those were running low. “Have you seen where Rick went?”

“No,” Michonne replied with a shake of her head. “I took Judith to the bathroom. She tinkled a bit in the potty,” she recounted with a smile. “I’d call that are first, truly worthwhile victory lately. So, yay us. Then I brought her outside for some sunshine and to get her something to eat. Barbara and another of the ladies from the Kingdom were gathering the kids up to keep them occupied inside. I didn’t think Rick was up yet. I never saw him come out of the house.”

Georgie nodded. “Huh. Okay, well, thanks for Judith. And for these turnips. Mmm, mmm, good.”

Michonne snickered. “I figured the two of you probably haven’t eaten in a long while and decided to save you some while I could.”

“Well, it’s definitely appreciated. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

With a small nod at each other, they parted ways; with Georgie slipping back into the house. First, she walked over to Maggie’s office but found it empty, and then she began popping her head into the other downstairs rooms. When she didn’t find Rick in any of them, she held the turnips tightly in her hands and went back upstairs.

The sound of wood hitting the floor from one of the rooms where she knew the windows had been boarded up a bit. Stepping just within the doorway, she found Rick using his hatched to pry the planks off and tossing them to the floor behind him. It was the bedroom where Gracie was being kept, judging by the crib in the room, although Gracie wasn’t there but instead downstairs with the other children, being looked after by Barbara and the other woman. Rick had already finished removing the planks from two of the room’s four windows; the planks lying in individual piles.

As Georgie made her way into the room, Rick turned when he sensed someone was there. She held up one of the turnips and gave him a small smile. “Michonne save us some turnips. She thought we might be hungry.”

“Yeah. I’m okay,” he replied, turning back to the window and the planks.

His grief and how he was trying his hardest to ignore it seemed to pulse around him like a shockwave. Seeing him like this, struggling internally, affected her as well. She was grieving, too, though nowhere near as much as he was right now, but it wasn’t just her own grief she was feeling, but his as well. It was like sympathy pains. She wanted so badly to just hold him and make it all go away for him, but she knew this was something he had to deal with in his own way and in his own time.

That wasn’t going to stop her from engaging him, though.

He had tried and tried again with her when she was going through the same thing months back, and even though she had been angry at him for doing so, in hindsight she was ever so thankful. She didn’t realize it then, but she needed that. She needed him pressing her to open up and talk, to be more present, but she wasn’t going to force it out of him either.

“Rick…”

“Maggie turned off the generators to save on gas,” he remarked, finding something else to talk about; knowing where she was trying to direct conversation, but he wasn’t ready yet for that. “The kids are gonna need air in this heat.”

She nodded, accepting this wasn’t going to be a poignant moment, and backed off with that line of thought. Setting their turnips down on the narrow coffee table near her legs, she looked up closely at his temple. The cut he’d received at some point yesterday had since stopped bleeding, but it was still an open wound and without a bandage.

Georgie furrowed her brow. “You should have that cut taken care of. Do you want me to get some supplies and take a look at it for you?”

“Let me get this done first,” he replied, glancing briefly at her; his voice sounding a little agitated. His eyes, however, did seemed to express guilt over his tone with her. He didn’t mean to displace his anger, which was seeping out here and there, and focus even the smallest bit on her. It just slipped out without him realizing it.

Taking a hint, Georgie stepped back and then looked over at the other window he hadn’t gotten to yet. Walking over to it and tossing a look back at him, she reached forward and pulled at one of the planks. She decided this was something she could do to help him right now. She remained silent, working alongside him, keeping him company. If he wanted to talk, about anything, then he would.

After a moment, he seemed in the mood to as he set one of the planks down and looked toward the ground. “I saw him at the back of the convoy,” he spoke, garnering her attention. “That’s why I did it.”

Georgie stopped what she was doing and turned to face him; realizing he was talking about Negan.

“I had to try,” he continued, his voice quiet. “I had to.”

And then, that was it.

He was silent again and back to work at pulling off planks from the window.

It wasn’t much that he said, but it was enough for now.

He was trying.



As the day wore on, graves for the Militia’s fallen were dug and the bodies buried. The bodies of the dead Saviors had been gathered up as well, into the back bed of a truck, and driven outside the Hilltop’s walls. One of the POWs, the handsome one from the night before who spoke to Simon on the walkie-talkie at Maggie’s behest, who’s name happened to be Alden, was given the task of burying his former people. Several of their injured were still convalescing in the medical trailers, such as Tobin, and others were showing signs of not feeling well, but the latter trudged through whatever was ailing them.

Georgie resumed her place in being the one to look after Judith. She longed for more of these moments, these days where the only task on her plate for the day was caring for her stepdaughter. She was looking forward to the time after the war with the Saviors. She was trying to picture everything Carl had told Rick he’d envisioned for the future—the future he would not be a part of. She tried imagining Alexandria thriving again, with new buildings, stronger walls, flourishing crops and more people alive and doing well. She tried imagining Rick in a few years, a bit more grey, with the large beard Carl had teased. Having met already known Rick with that mammoth beard he’d been sporting when they first arrived to Alexandria, she pictured him rather Santa-esque and it wasn’t too bad.

She tried imagining what Judith might look like. It would’ve been easier to do if she knew what Lori looked like and what Rick’s friend Shane had looked like, to gauge some kind of comparison. Carl’s hair was brown, but it was straight, unlike Rick’s which was curly, so that told Georgie that Lori must’ve had straight hair. Judith, her hair was a bit lighter in color and had more of a wave to it, so Georgie assumed Shane must’ve had hair that was wavy, too, or possibly even with a curl to it like Rick’s was. With that, she pictured a girl about five or six years old, with long, wavy, medium brown hair, with Judith’s same smile and same eyes, just taller and thinner, running and playing and giggling.

Georgie even went as far as to imagine baby Gracie; wondering where that little girl would be raised. Would she remain at Hilltop and, if so, who would raise her? Maggie? Aaron, if he ever returned from Oceanside, where he’d gone to convince the women there to fight? Or maybe she’d be raised in Alexandria. If that was to be the case, would Rick and she take her in? Or maybe Barbara would. She had never really paid much attention to Barbara before, but knew she had two kids. But, with the chaos of Alexandria being attacked and Carl dying and just everything since then, Georgie hadn’t realized Barbara’s kids weren’t here at Hilltop with her. Her kids had not escaped Alexandria with the others. In fact, Georgie realized she didn’t even remember seeing those two kids in the sewers that night.

All this time, Georgie had realized, despite the smiles on her face and the willingness to look after Judith, Gracie and the other kids, that Barbara had lost hers.

Georgie hadn’t even noticed the bodies of any children in Alexandria, but then again she hadn’t been focused on anything other than Carl and the aftermath of his death. If those two kids had died and come back as walkers, it was possible they were either still wandering around Alexandria’s streets or had wandered out and could be anywhere now.

Barbara might never have the chance to bury her children. She might never get that closure of properly saying goodbye to them.

Georgie couldn’t imagine that pain.

She also didn’t want to.

She much preferred focusing on the here and now at the moment, sitting in the circular patch of grass at the base of the non-working water fountain, about fifty feet, give or take, directly in front of the house. She was there with Judith, who was playing with a couple of stuffed animals, and it was wonderful respite from everything else going on around them. At least it helped take Georgie’s mind off of almost everything. She couldn’t help but still focus on Rick, who was seated off to the side on the front steps leading up to the house, loading new bullets into his Colt. The right side of his face was coated with dry blood; having likely rubbed against the wound at some point and had caused it to bleed again. He hadn’t bothered to clean it up or wipe the blood away; choosing stubbornness over just getting the damn cut looked at.

Carol was ushering the young boy, Henry, back into the house, clearly chastising him about something while she carried an automatic rifle in one of her hands. Rick had glanced in their direction, quietly reminiscent over how many times on the Greene farm they’d have to tell Carl to stay put or in the house and he would still manage to sneak off and get into some kind of trouble. Rick wanted badly to smile at the memory, despite how serious a lot of the memories had been, but it just made him upset because he’d never get to make new memories with his son.

As he closed the barrel to his Colt, Siddiq walked up; which did little to lift his mood.

“I could treat your wound,” Siddiq offered. “Wouldn’t want it to get infected.”

Rick wouldn’t look at him. Instead he stared straight ahead, focusing his attention on his wife and his daughter; the former of whom was casting glances in his direction as well. The look she was giving him was somewhat as chastising as the tone Carol had spoken to Henry with. Rick knew what Georgie could tell what Siddiq was offering; whether or not she could hear what he was saying from how far away from the front steps she was. Giving in, Rick gave a shrug toward their new medic, but said nothing.

Sidling up beside Rick, Siddiq removed the satchel he’d been carrying from his should and began to pull out a gauze pad. “There’s, um…a prayer for the dead I first heard when I was a little boy. It, uh…ended with the phrase ‘Do not send us astray after them’ — those who died…”

“Don’t,” Rick cut him off.

Georgie was smiling at Judith, who was tossing one of her stuffed animals up and catching it, when she glanced back over at Rick, only to see him storming away from Siddiq before the younger man could tend to the cut on his face. She sighed heavily and, a moment, later caught Siddiq’s frown. Licking at her bottom lip, she curled a finger at him and gestured him over. As he tucked his medical supplies back into his satchel, he carried it over with him and came to crouch down a couple of feet away from her and Judith.

“I know you mean well, and I don’t want you to think you’ve done something wrong,” she spoke; squinting from the sun. “But he’s not going to warm up to you for a while. He’s not ready to face his grief yet, or try to get past it. And even though what happened wasn’t your fault, he’s gonna keep using you as a scapegoat. It’s gonna take some time until he can truly accept that what happened was just a horrible twist of fate that couldn’t happened regardless of whether or not you were there. Carl made a choice. You didn’t ask him to help you. He wanted to, and that’s what made him a great kid.” Georgie’s eyes began to water a little bit, but she was able to hold it in. She still wiped at her eyes, to prevent any tears from falling down her face. Turning her gaze back toward Judith, she exhaled a deep breath. “Rick will come around eventually. Just…tread lightly around him in the meantime.”

Siddiq nodded and attempted a smile. “Thank you,” he remarked. “For understanding. And I’m still sorry, for your son.”

She didn’t care to correct him, that she wasn’t Carl’s mother. It wasn’t important to correct him. In time, he might find out, but for now, she enjoyed Carl being thought of as her son. She didn’t think of him as one of her children, anyway. And she didn’t stop thinking him that way just because he was gone. He would always be one of her kids, just like Tristan and Avery. And Judith, of course.

“Thank you — for helping him get home, so he could be with us in the end.”

The frown returned to Siddiq’s face and he cast his dark eyes down at the ground; watching himself pick at a few blades of grass. When he looked back up, he gestured to her temple. “Come find me and let me know when you feel you need a new bandage for your cut. I got a bag of supplies,” he commented, patting his satchel, “and access to the medical trailer where the good stuff is.”

Georgie smirked. “Will do.”

With just a nod at her, Siddiq got to his feet and walked away.



Georgie didn’t interact at all with Rick the rest of the day. She barely saw him, as he had wandered off to find other things to do. She figured he was keeping away from most of the people he knew the most—his friends, his family. In a community bursting at the seams with more people than usual, it was hard for him to just get away and not have to see any reminders of the son he’d lost.

By nightfall, the community was turning in. There were still those who were on watch duty, but most were heading to bed. Because spaced was limited, a lot of people were left to sleep in sleeping bags on the floors along the upstairs hallway and in the foyer below of the house. Several people double up in the bedrooms, too, or in the housing trailers. One or two were even sleeping in the back beds of trucks.

Maggie was making her rounds; walking around those going to sleep, checking they were okay, as she held a lit candle to guide her way. Georgie passed her on the way from the bathroom to her and Rick’s room and both shared a nod and bid each other a quiet goodnight.

Once inside her room, Georgie found Rick sitting on the edge of their bed. He’d already removed his belt, utility belt, and his weapons; having set them down on the bedside table nearest him. He was hunched forward slightly, his hands pressing into his upper thighs as he stared at the floor. Georgie noticed Judith’s crib had been moved from the opposite side of the room and now rested beside the tallboy dresser, only a couple feet away from his side of the bed. Once the door was shut behind her and she was further inside the room, she could see Judith was still fast asleep; somehow not having woken up from her father moving the crib with her in it, in that small window of time where Georgie had gone to the bathroom for a couple of minutes.

Turning his head to the left, Rick glanced up at Georgie and gave her a nod of acknowledgment. Figuring that was the most she was going to get out of him for the night, she smiled back at him and moved around to the other side of the bed; the side he’d slept on the night before. She realized why he’d switched spots. Back at home, in Alexandria, he was usually on the left and she on the right. The night before they’d been switched. If his mood today hadn’t had anything to do with losing Carl, she could’ve assumed he had literally just gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. Of course, that wasn’t the case.

As she sank down on her side, Rick twisted at the waist and reached an arm behind him to grab at her wrist. Georgie turned and glanced down at his hand and then over at him. Even though he was looking up toward her face, he wasn’t looking at her. She knew, though, that this was him trying. He loosened his grip from around her wrist and began to entwine his fingers with hers and just hold her hand. Exhaling a steadying breath, Rick scooted more onto the mattress, and nearer to her. Lifting her hand up, he pressed his lips to the back of her hand and just let the moment linger on for a little bit. When he finally set her hand back down, he scooted further up toward the pillows and then laid backward.

“How…” he began to speak. “How did you…afterward…with, uh…”

He didn’t finish what he was saying.

Georgie watched as he brought a hand to his face and covered his eyes with it. He inhaled a shaky breath and then exhaled long and deep.

“How did I what?” she asked, moving up the mattress and laying down beside him.

“Nothing. Never mind.”

Georgie didn’t press him to continue. Whatever he wanted to say, he’d find a way when he was good and ready. At least he was trying.

That’s what mattered.

Rolling onto her side, facing him, although he was on his back with his hand still over his eye so he couldn’t see her, she was studying him with tired eyes. Shoving her right hand under her pillow, she reached her left hand down between them and took his left in hers. Their fingers entwined once more and the gesture was enough to get him to remove his other hand from his face and finally look at her—truly look at her.

As dark as the room was, despite what little bit of moonlight was shining into the windows, Georgie could tell that his eyes were red and aching to shed tears freely, but he was still fighting it. Since they’d arrived to Hilltop the morning before, he hadn’t once allowed himself to cry again. She could tell he wanted to, that he needed to.

Leaning her head forward, she placed a kiss to his cheek, and then upon his shoulder, before settling her head back down on her pillow; all in an attempt to let him know she would be here for him when he was ready.

Somehow understanding what her gesture was about, he squeezed her hand in a sort of thanks and closed his eyes. After a moment, Georgie did, too; the both of them ready for yet another day to be over with.



The screams began just after three-thirty in the morning; waking Rick and Georgie out of a deep sleep and causing Judith to cry out of fear from the noises. Both adults jolted straight up in bed, with Rick jumping off and grabbing for his utility belt and weapons. Georgie shuffled across the mattress and slipped off from his side of the bed since it was quicker to reach Judith that way than getting up and running around to that side of the bed. She grabbed the little girl up into her arms and attempted to shush her. In a calm voice she assured her stepdaughter that it was okay, that everything was fine.

Rick turned toward both of them and held a hand up. “Stay in here.”

Any other time, Georgie might’ve insisted otherwise. But those other times was when Carl was alive and when he could’ve stayed with his sister. Now it was just the three of them and she couldn’t join in a fight as readily as before. Judith needed her more and Judith was her priority now.

With a nod to say she understood and that she wasn’t going anywhere, Georgie watched with anxious eyes as Rick removed his hatchet, gripped it tight and slipped out of the bedroom. The moment the door was opened, the screams and other sounds of chaos became more pronounced, and the moment the door was closed behind him, the noise was dulled again.

Pressing a bunch of kisses to Judith’s face and into her hair, Georgie sank back down onto the bed with her and rocked her a little bit. “Hey, hey. Hey now. It’s okay. Daddy’s gonna help make things better,” she assured as Judith continued to whimper. “Want me to sing?” Off Judith’s nod, Georgie urged the girl’s head down against her chest, so that the sound of her voice would vibrate; remembering how soothing that had been for Tristan and Avery when they were Judith’s age and they’d woken up crying about this or that.

While Georgie began to sing Edelweiss, the only song that Judith ever seemed content to hear from her, the screaming within the house still didn’t let up. Georgie was forced to sing a bit louder for the girl’s benefit, and somehow it worked. Despite the noise that continued, Judith had been pacified considerably. Standing up with her, Georgie brought Judith back to her crib and set her down in it. When Judith began to whine, Georgie grabbed the stuffed animals inside and played a one-time game of peek-a-boo in hopes that seeing the stuffed animals would give Judith some sort of distraction.

Thanking her lucky stars when Judith was temporarily placated by a couple inanimate objects, Georgie crept over toward the bedroom door and opened it a crack when Bertie and a couple other unfamiliar ladies came running up frantically. Georgie stepped out of the way and let the other women enter.

“What’s going on?” she questioned.

“Walkers got inside. They’re attacking everyone,” Bertie answered.

“What?” Not looking for Bertie to repeat herself, Georgie pointed at Judith. “Stay here with her. Please.”

As Bertie nodded, Georgie grabbed for her knife and slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her to shut the women and Judith inside. There were a few lingering walkers upstairs. One came stumbling out of a bedroom and turned toward her when it sensed her movement. Grabbing it by the shoulders, she pushed it back against the door frame and shoved her blade through its eye as deep as it would go to kill it. Pulling the blade out, she let the body drop to the ground as she checked the other rooms. Everything upstairs seemed fine, so she hurried downstairs, where there was still plenty of action going on. As she passed Rick, who was cutting off the arm of a man who had been bit, she noticed he’d looked her way in confusion; likely wondering what the hell she was doing downstairs and not with Judith upstairs in their room. She moved toward the back of the house where a couple of downstairs bedrooms were. Inside one of them was Bruce, who had once been part of Alexandria’s construction crew, and who was one of the men that had been injured in the fight the night before. Now he was propped up in bed by a few pillows and looking worse for wear.

“You okay in here?” she asked.

“I feel like death warmed over,” Bruce replied, just as Tobin came stumbling in; growling at her.

The surprise of him coming up from behind her caused her to turn abruptly around and, as he grabbed for her, her knife slipped from her hand. Tobin’s foot ended up kicking it away so all she could do was shove him back to buy herself some time to grab something for a weapon. The nearest object was a lamp on a table that she picked up and smacked across his face. Having grown so complacent over the years in regard to the dead considering all the horrors the living did to each other in this world, Georgie was surprised to feel actual fear over Tobin. He was such a tall, strong man to begin with and now, there he was, as a walker, with blood all around his mouth and down the front of his shirt. Even in the dark of the room, she could see how pale his skin was and how glazed over his eyes had become from death.

As he came for her, she gripped his arms and tried holding him back, but it was a terrible, uphill struggle against his brut, undead strength. She cried out in frustration as he continued growling at her like a rabid dog; his teeth clamping at the air, inches between their faces and getting just too close for comfort.

Fortunately, Carol appeared from behind him and pulled him away before a fatal bite to Georgie’s neck could be administered. “Stay back!” she shouted, one hand gripping Tobin’s shoulder as she shoved him toward the wall. However, she was hesitating to stab him with the knife in her other hand.

Georgie understood why the hesitation existed. She knew there had been something between Carol and Tobin, back in Alexandria, even if it was short-lived.

No one ever wanted to see someone they loved, or at least cared about, turned into a walker and having to be the one to put them down.

But Carol managed to do it.

Shoving her knife into the side of his head, she gripped the back of his shirt and then let his body collapse down onto the ground; any remaining signs of life disappearing like the last plumes of smoke from an already snuffed out candle.

Both women stood there for a moment, catching their breaths and glancing at each other.

A moment later, Daryl, Maggie and then Rick came darting into the room.

“You alright?” Daryl asked Carol.

“Yeah, just…he wasn’t bit,” she replied as everyone was glancing down at Tobin’s body. “But he turned.”

Glancing briefly over at Georgie, Rick then looked to the others. “Negan’s bat,” he muttered, crouching down beside Tobin. “When I was out there with him, it was covered in walker blood. I just thought he’d crossed some. But maybe…”

“They have us working for them again,” Maggie remarked. “Killin’ our own.”

“It’s the fever,” Bruce mumbled from the bed, and the others looked over in his direction. “That’s what it is. It makes sense now.” As he looked at his injured arm, which was wrapped up, Rick stood back up, and Bruce seemed on the verge of tears. Maggie was approaching him, reaching for his hand. “One of you…you’re gonna have to do it. I can’t. You gotta do it for me,” he cried. “Please. Please.”

Shortly after that, Maggie and Carol went outside with a few others to assess the situation there, but the other three made their way back upstairs where they ducked back into Rick and Georgie’s room. Rick burst in with a knife at the ready, finding that the room was full of women. It wasn’t just Bertie and the other two women Georgie had left inside with Judith. Rosita and Enid were there, ready to shoot whoever was coming into the room, but both quickly lowered their weapon when they saw it was only Rick and the others. Then there was Tara, who was seated on the bed, holding her injured arm, with the kerosene lamp on the bedside lit.

“Hey,” Rick greeted, holding a hand up defensively.

“Good out there?” Rosita asked.

Rick nodded as Daryl and Georgie entered the room after him; the latter moving around toward the crib to be nearer to Judith, who was perfectly content now. “How is all clear,” he announced.

“How’d this happen?” Tara wondered, casting her eyes from Rick to Daryl, who was shutting the bedroom door.

Both men were hesitating to answer her at first, staring at her and watching as she held her arm.

It was Daryl who finally spoke up, though. “Um…the Saviors did something to their weapons. Everyone they cut up…or got shot…they all got sick. Some of ‘em turned.”

Enid was struck dumb by this. “What? No.”

They all knew what this could mean, and what it could mean for Tara, who had been struck by Dwight’s bolt the night before.

“Okay,” Tara spoke, already resigned to a possible fate she might have to face soon.

“When we were out there, and you said you were done waiting, I could’ve killed him,” Daryl continued; his eyes on her. “I should’ve.”

“No,” she insisted. “He wanted to be here with us. And no matter what he did, or how hard he tried, I wanted him dead. I just couldn’t let it be anything else. Karma’s a bitch, right?”

A single gunshot echoed from outside, which caused them all to jump a little, having not been expecting it, since getting used to the silence again after all the chaos.

A few moments later, Rosita looked over at Rick and how he was glancing in Georgie and Judith’s direction. She spoke up, suggesting they head out and see what they could do to clean up, but really it was just a kind excuse to give the couple a moment because there was clearly something that needed to be said between them that wasn’t necessary for the others to be present for. As Rosita ushered everyone out, she closed the door behind them all and then Rick and Georgie were alone in their room with only Judith.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just watched as Georgie was gesturing for Judith to lie down and try to get back to sleep.

“Why were you downstairs?” he finally asked.

Georgie paused before answering. She knew he was really asking why she hadn’t stayed upstairs with Judith. “Bertie and the other two women came in here. I knew Judith would be safe. I wanted to help. I needed to.”

“I asked you to stay.”

“I know.” She looked up from Judith and found Rick was staring right at her. He didn’t look too happy with her. “I’m sorry,” she offered up. “I wasn’t going to leave Judith alone. If Bertie and the others hadn’t come in, I would’ve stayed. But I knew she’d be okay when they did come in. And I knew I could hold my own.”

“Can you just…can you not risk yourself when you don’t have to? Can you just stay put?” Rick stepped forward, approaching her. Leaning his face closer to hers she could almost feel the warmth of his breath. Lowering his voice, he continued with a tone that was one of noticeable anger. “Going off just ‘cause you needed to help will get you killed. Don’t do it again.”

Without another word, Rick turned from her and pulled the bedroom door open so roughly it seemed as if he could’ve pulled it right off its hinges.

Georgie just stood there, her hand on the edge of Judith’s crib as she stared after him. She knew he was upset and had been worried for her, but what she realized was that the anger with which he had spoken to her with was not really for her. He wasn’t angry at her. The message he’d gotten across wasn’t actually for her. It was for someone who wasn’t there anymore; someone he wished was still alive to be yelled at about risking their lives for people they didn’t know.

And so began the true stage of Rick’s anger.



Notes

Comments

Completely understand. Thank you for sharing your talent with us all. Looking forward to your new story updates on Road Not Taken and the sequel to We Can Change.

Grimesgirl63 Grimesgirl63
1/7/19

Thanks for the update today!

Grimesgirl63 Grimesgirl63
8/26/18

Sorry to hear about your aunt.

Grimesgirl63 Grimesgirl63
3/31/18

Thanks for the update today!

Grimesgirl63 Grimesgirl63
7/29/17

Nicely done!!!

Grimesgirl63 Grimesgirl63
1/30/17