- Cass's POV -
"C-Cass?" Spencer stutters, his suddenly wide eyes flitting up and down my figure, his mouth agape.
The fiery rage inside me intensifies as I lock my gaze on him, breathing evenly through my nose. The audacity to show his face here after what he's done is infuriating.
Spencer's gaping mouth slowly pulls into an amazed smile, only deepening my irritation.
"What are you doing here." I demand shortly, my voice cutting through the tension with unwavering harshness, my gaze cold. Surprise flinches across Spencer's expression, making me clench my jaw in sheer frustration.
As if I would just welcome him back with open fucking arms.
"Cass," Daryl starts from beside me, his voice tinged with concern, but I quiet him with a raised hand, not breaking my stone-cold gaze on the bastard in front of me.
"Rick shot you." I snap harshly, my voice severe enough to make Spencer visibly flinch. Narrowing my eyes, I continue. "You're supposed to be dead." I remind him sternly, making him avert his gaze, looking down at his tattered jeans.
"...I should be." he replies quietly, before slowly lifting his gaze to meet mine, deep regret and vulnerability behind those backstabbing eyes. "It was a good shot, given the distance, but it just went through my shoulder," Spencer explains gingerly, his dirt-caked hands fidgeting on the table.
But even then- he should have bled out. My brows furrow in confusion, and Spencer notices, making him sigh, seeming to try to find the right words to explain.
"Phi- Brian was involved with a woman at our camp who was a nurse. She came to the prison that day because her daughter had died- because of what Brian made them do," Spencer begins carefully, his voice tinged with sadness as he recalls what seems to be painful memories.
"She wanted to confront him, but her timing was off. She got there after everything was over and saw me, bleeding but a-alive in the grass." Spencer mutters with a gulp, his hazel eyes darting between me and Daryl's expectant expressions.
"She fixed my bullet wound and without her, I wouldn't be alive." Spencer finishes, his eyes filled with raw emotion, remorse etched in the lines of his face. Rolling my jaw, I exhale slowly to suppress the burning rage in my chest.
"So where is this woman now then?" I question shortly, tilting my head to the side, carefully observing his expression.
Spencer falters slightly, averting his gaze. "I lost her. A w-walker came through where we were camped, and she-" his voice cracks and he stops, staring at the wall, his eyes tearing slightly.
"Sympathies." I mutter flatly, clenching my jaw tightly with aggravation, deep anger still simmering beneath my skin.
With furrowed brows, Spencer looks up at me, his hazel eyes darting across my stone-cold expression, searching for a hint of sympathy that he won't find.
"What... happened to you? This isn't you." Spencer murmurs with genuine confusion as his eyes roam my appearance. Taking in my tightly crossed arms, my hardened, unwavering gaze, and my once-loving expression now replaced by what must be an unsettlingly emotionless mask.
Unable to contain my aggravation any longer at his words, my patience finally snaps. With an abrupt step forward, I slam my hands onto the table, making Spencer jump back in surprise. My gaze boring into his, I lean closer to the traitor, every ounce of my irritation radiating into the charged atmosphere of the room.
"What would you know, about me?" I growl lowly, my voice carrying a dangerous edge that sends a flicker of fear through his eyes. He instinctively leans backward, clearly realizing the depth of my anger.
"You want to know what happened to me?" I continue through clenched teeth, my voice trembling with seething rage as I tilt my head to the side, looking down at him intimidatingly. "You." I inform him hoarsely, the single word ripping up my throat as I scour his stupid expression.
"I trusted you." I hiss, fighting against the sudden tightness of my throat, "And you betrayed me- my family." I remind him roughly, watching as guilt visibly flashes through his features, his wide eyes locked onto mine, unable to escape the weight of my words.
"You betrayed all of us," I press further, leaning in so close to him that I can feel his panicked breath fanning across my face. My eyes narrow as I notice a bead of sweat forming on his forehead, glinting like a guilty confession.
"You betrayed me, the people you worked with on the fence, the ones who helped clothe and feed you," I seethe, my voice laced with a bitter disappointment that cuts like a knife, "Herschel, the kids, Judith- a baby!" I shout, my voice reverberating around the small room as I hit the table again, making the coward flinch, his eyes clenched shut in a lame attempt to escape the reality of what he did.
His cowardice makes anger flare intensely through me, surging up through my nerves and staining my vision deep red. Reaching forward quickly, I roughly grab his jaw, making him wince in pain as my fingers dig into his flesh. His skin is cold and clammy under my touch, a stark contrast to the fiery fury coursing through my veins.
I force him to look directly into my eyes, ensuring that he confronts the full extent of my aggravation. "You are a coward," I spit, my words dripping with contempt as I forcefully shove his jaw to the side, making him whimper in pain. Stepping back from the table, I flex my hand, my chest heaving with overwhelming anger.
A sense of awareness pricks at the edge of my senses, making me turn to the doorway. There I see Rick standing there, watching me with careful eyes, his brows pulled together in concern. My anger subsides slightly and I give him a half-nod, encouraging him in.
Rick immediately reads my look, pushing off the doorframe and striding in, his demeanor exuding that characteristic confident authority of his. When he stops beside me, the tension in the room thickens as he fixes his unwavering glare on the panting backstabber in front of us.
"We're not going to ask you again. How did you find us?" Rick asks Spencer roughly, his voice firm and unwavering, demanding the truth from him.
Spencer finally musters the courage to lift his gaze and meet Rick's unyielding glare. He begins to explain, his voice trembling with hesitation, a faint trace of desperation creeping in. "After Lilly died," he starts, "I met someone. He helped me get back on my feet and convinced me to join him on his journey- said we were going to find his friend. It was after we got separated and I found this..."
With a casual yet deliberate flick of his hand, Spencer tosses a crumpled, torn piece of paper onto the table, the sound of it rustling faintly in the room.
"...that I realized." Spencer finishes, glancing up nervously to see our reactions. Rick's gaze narrows as he leans forward and examines the paper, a sense of unease settling in the room.
My heart in my throat, I do the same, my eyes roaming the scrap of paper, realizing it's a blood-stained map. One that is eerily familiar, with the words 'Sorry I was an asshole. Come to Washington. The new world is going to need Rick Grimes' scrawled across it in marker.
My stomach twists.
It's Abraham's map. The one that was supposed to guide us on the mission we never ended up going on.
"I was following it for a while and then as I was walking nearby I heard voices, saw the sign on the outside wall, and figured this place would be my best shot. I didn't know you were here too," Spencer explains, his voice wavering slightly with exhaustion.
"Who?" Daryl grunts expectantly, his voice tinged with suspicion.
Spencer's eyes slide to him. "His name was Morgan," Spencer explains, causing a ripple of shock to rush through me.
Immediately, I turn to Rick, my eyes widening in disbelief.
Rick's expression mirrors my astonishment, his eyebrows raising and his eyelids fluttering with surprise as he stares at Spencer.
"D'you think it's the same Morgan we saw in Kings County?" I ask Rick under my breath, making him turn to me with a nod, his expression troubled.
Morgan- the man who helped Rick after his coma. The man who lost his son and then his mind.
"'Separated'" Rick echos thoughtfully, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks back at Spencer, "what happened?" he questions, his rough voice laced with genuine concern.
A heavy sigh escapes from Spencer's lips before he recounts the full story. "These guys came out of nowhere- held us at gunpoint in our camp and had these... W's carved on their forehead," he mutters, his eyebrows furrowed deeply with confusion.
"They forced us apart and I managed to get away with our backpack and just- ran." he explains breathlessly, his voice trailing off with a heavy sigh before he continues, "I had nothing. Then when I saw the map, I figured..." His words taper off into resignation as he shrugs his shoulders in a futile gesture.
Closing my eyes, I shake my head.
He ran. No surprise there
Rick lets out a slow exhale, his broad shoulders tensing as he shifts restlessly on his feet. Worry flits through me as he looks down and rests his hand on his belt- a subtle but unmistakable sign of his concern.
Seeing this, I instinctively reach out, my fingers gently brushing past the cool metal of his watch and encircling his forearm, offering silent comfort through my touch. Rick's eyes, seas of emotion, slide to meet mine, locking onto me in a silent exchange of reassurance.
Then our brief moment of warmth is interrupted by a scoff.
Confusion washes over me as I turn my head to see Spencer looking at us, shaking his head with disbelief.
"Of course," he mutters under his breath, heavy bitterness in his tone, prompting me to raise an incredulous eyebrow at his sour attitude.
"Excuse me?" I ask tersely, my voice slicing through the tension in the room. Spencer's hazel eyes meet mine, his expression now cold and distant.
Resentment fills his gaze as it darts back and forth between me and Rick. "I should've expected this- you two." Beside me, I hear Rick let out an exasperated sigh, his patience clearly wearing just as thin as mine.
"For fucks sake," Rick grumbles under his breath, the clear frustration in his voice making me suddenly have to fight back a creeping smile, hiding it quickly behind my hand.
"Phillip was right. You two have always had something going on," Spencer spits, venom laced in his words, his once pitiful look now full of anger.
My smile drops, quickly replaced by an exhausted eye-roll. Jesus Christ.
"Not that I need to justify anything to you of all people," I start, sending Spencer a disgusted look, "but Rick and I just got together. So calm down," I order sternly, my patience fully exhausted at this point.
Spencer's face scrunches in annoyance, his attention shifting back to Rick, his eyes narrowing as he looks him up and down. "You wanted her at the prison, didn't you?" He demands, probing for a reaction.
I steal a sidelong glance at Rick, watching his calm expression as he locks eyes with Spencer. A faint smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, a subtle satisfaction gleaming in his eyes that sends a flurry of butterflies through my chest. Cocking his head slightly to the side, Rick nods his head once in confirmation.
Spencer scoffs again, shaking his head in disbelief before directing a resentful gaze towards me. "Can he even please you like I did?" He demands bitterly, his eyes filled with a blend of jealousy and desperation.
It takes every ounce of self-control for me to not burst out into roaring laughter. I spare a glance at Rick's expression- his condescendingly raised eyebrows, the slight downturn of his suppressed smile, and the glint of amusement in his eyes.
We both know, without a doubt, that Rick far exceeds any comparison.
Just as I'm about to respond to Spencer's ridiculous question, Daryl interjects, his voice rough and assertive, catching me off guard. "Watch your mouth," Daryl growls, making me shoot him an appreciative look, my chest warming slightly at his protectiveness. Meeting my gaze briefly, Daryl nods once before fixing his hardened eyes unwaveringly on Spencer.
Spencer presses his lips in a harsh line of clear frustration, looking off to the side with a sense of childish defeat. "So am I going to get a place to sleep or are you just going to keep interrogating me?" Spencer asks flatly, making me raise my eyebrows.
Well. Someone thinks mighty highly of himself.
"What makes you think that you get to stay here?" I ask dryly. Spencer's wary eyes turn to mine, briefly meeting my unamused gaze before darting behind me, through the doorway.
"Deanna might have said-" Rick starts quietly from beside me, making me turn to him, my eyes widening in disbelief.
"She what?" I demand, my eyes wild as they sweep past his shoulder to frown through the doorway, where Deanna, Reg, and Glenn are engrossed in discussion.
"We can't have him here- How could we ever trust him again?" I demand quietly, looking up at Rick incredulously, my heart racing at the idea of having to coexist with that snake. Rick's gaze softens as he nods in understanding.
Neither of us wants that.
"You can trust me! Look, I'm here asking to stay despite the fact that your boyfriend tried to kill me!" Spencer protests desperately from behind me, his words filled with frustration, causing me to whip around and shoot him a piercing glare.
"I was keeping my promise." Rick snaps back roughly in response, making me blink, turning to him with surprise. His eyes meet mine, reading the question behind them. With a subtle look, he signals that we'll discuss it later, and I reluctantly drop it.
Turning back to Spencer, my gaze sweeps over him with a strong mix of disgust and determination. "I know one thing for sure," I snap fiercely, my voice carrying the weight of my resolve. "You are absolutely not staying here."
Without waiting for a reaction or response, I pivot on my heel and storm out of the room, purposefully ignoring Rick and Daryl's calls as I leave with stubborn determination.
Marching purposefully up to Deanna, I watch as the woman turns to me, her eyes widened in surprise.
"Done the interview yet?" I ask quickly, shifting my weight from hip to hip impatiently, my gaze locked firmly on Alexandria's leader for answers.
"No. Not yet." Deanna responds slowly, her eyes darting over my shoulder, where I sense Rick following me.
"Let me save you the time then," I state with decisiveness, nudging my head to the room behind me. "That idiot in there- is a backstabbing, spineless, weasel. I don't want him anywhere near my family and neither do you." I inform her confidently, my lingering rage still simmering beneath my skin.
Deanna casts a glance at her husband who looks helpless, shrugging slightly, his eyebrows knitted together in deep thought at what must be a complicated situation for them.
"Cass, d'you think-" Glenn starts, clearly trying to mediate the rising tension, but I shoot him a stern look.
"Spencer is the reason Herschel is dead. The reason your wife doesn't have a father. He did that in cold blood." I remind Glenn harshly, making his eyes flutter at the painful memory, his mouth pressing in a firm line. "God knows what he'd do here." I comment with disgust, chills burning my arms at the idea of him ruining the first real safe place we've found since the prison.
Deanna, her eyebrows furrowed in contemplation, poses a question. "What would you like to do then?" She asks calmly, tilting her head slightly, her intelligent eyes carefully assessing my reaction.
After briefly exchanging a glance with Rick, I turn back to Deanna. "Ideally, I'd kill him," I state bluntly, provoking a sharp exhale of breath from Reg, making my attention dart to him briefly before focusing back on his wife. "But- I know that's hard for you. So you have to banish him. For good." I affirm strongly, unwavering in my conviction.
Deanna furrows her brows, her intense blue eyes flitting between me and Rick. "You agree with this?" She questions Rick, making me glance instinctively over at him standing beside me.
His brows are set with determination as he nods just once, his expression unwavering in support. My heart twists with deep appreciation, relieved that he agrees with me.
"And I'm not sure tellin' all your people that one man was able to infiltrate your walls would be a good idea," Rick mutters pointedly, making Deanna nod with a gulp, clearly having not thought of that.
The leader of Alexandria takes a deep breath, her gaze sweeping over the darkened room before settling firmly on mine. "Alright. We banish him." She decides with finality, making me briefly close my eyes, relief surging through me.
"Thank you," I tell her genuinely as I open my eyes, my voice holding a sincerity and respect that hasn't been there in our more recent, aggravating, conversations. Recognizing this, Deanna nods, her gaze slightly softened.
As we share a moment of understanding, I wonder if she remembers our talk from my interview. The one where I told her respect was earned. And she could earn that by showing us we could trust her.
This is a step in the right direction.
So, following the plan, under the dark cover of early morning, Rick, Glenn, Daryl, Deanna, and I escort Spencer out, our footsteps muted against the asphalt. The rest of the community is silent as the people undoubtedly sleep peacefully without a second thought.
My gaze drifts from the starry sky, past the line of dark and quiet houses, to the looming wall at the end of the road. The faint silhouette of the other Spencer lingers by the gate, standing watch with a rifle slung over his chest. When Rick asks if it's clear outside the gate, Spencer offers a confirming nod, glancing at our escortee nervously.
Deanna's son wrenches open the imposing metal gate, causing it to emit a loud creak as he pulls it across the road. Before Spencer can walk through the opening and be out of our lives for good, he seizes his last opportunity to speak.
His hazel eyes, brimming with desperation, search for mine as he whirls around. "Cass-" he begins, a silent plea in his gaze as he stands in the narrow opening leading to the outside world.
Reluctantly, I meet his gaze, my feet planted firmly beside Rick, a sense of finality hanging in the air as we both prepare to part ways.
"I'm sorry. For everything," Spencer confesses hoarsely with a sincerity that makes my stomach twist slightly. His brows are knitted tightly with emotion, and for a fleeting moment, I catch a glimpse of the old Spencer I once thought I knew.
"Just know- I really did love you." He assures me frankly with a gulp, his eyes brimming with emotion. At my lack of an answer, he glances briefly at the rest of them silently observing this moment, before releasing a heavy sigh. With a nod that seems to be his acceptance of his own damn consequences, he turns and walks out of the gate.
I watch his figure fade away as he walks into the darkness before Deanna's son, the Spencer I now prefer, slams the gate shut, obscuring my view. I let out a slow exhale through my nose, my shoulders sagging slightly.
Thank god that's over.
I don't find it necessary to say anything to Deanna or her son before my footsteps are quietly carrying me back to our house. As I hear Rick and Glenn following, the weight of my exhaustion gradually settles in, adding to the emotional toll of the recent hour's events.
All I want now is to just crawl into bed and sleep.
We reach the house, quietly walking past the still-sleeping people on the couches from our party. Rick and I part ways with Glenn on the upper floor as he goes to reunite with Maggie, leaving us to continue to our room.
"You okay?" Rick checks softly with me, his hand on my elbow as he quietly closes our door behind us. I turn to him, the fatigue that had been kept at bay by my anger suddenly washing over me.
"Yeah, I think so. He's gone," I breathe, my chest tight as I look back into Rick's compassionate blue eyes. Rick nods slowly before swiftly crossing the distance between us, gently encircling me in one of his wonderfully tender and comforting hugs.
I let myself relax into his familiar arms, letting out a pent-up sigh, his warmth grounding me. His embrace is a sanctuary, one that I now know I will always seek out.
Despite my urge to stay in Rick's arms like this forever, concern for him tugs at my thoughts. I raise my head slightly from his solid chest, peeking up at his expression. "Are you okay? With the thing about Morgan?" I question softly, my voice muffled by his shirt.
I feel Rick take a deep breath, his chest expanding against my body. "I'm fine. I just hope he is." Rick expresses quietly, his voice slightly raspy, making me hug him just a bit tighter to offer some comfort.
We stay there for a while before Rick leans back, lifting his hand to gently caress my cheek, his head tilted to the side as he gazes lovingly down at me. "Let's get some sleep before it's too late," He suggests with a knowing look, his voice a low rasp, making me smile with relief.
After undressing once again, I crawl into our now-chilled bed and wrap myself in the warmth of Rick's body. The familiar and comforting sensation of his presence surrounds me, already making it difficult to keep my eyes open. His arms wrap around my torso, pulling me into him as my tension begins to fully dissipate.
Despite the raw tiredness weighing heavily behind my eyes, a smile quirks my lips at a stubborn thought in the back of my mind. "So, you were keeping a 'promise', huh?" I ask against his shirt, my voice barely above a whisper.
Rick lets out a huff-like laugh, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "I knew you would bring that up." He replies dryly, making me grin, shifting so I can look up at him.
"I'm curious," I say through my smile, my fingers tracing an absentminded pattern onto his chest as he sighs reluctantly.
Sparing one dry glance at me, Rick answers my question. "The day I gave Spencer my jacket, back at the prison, we talked about you. The promise was that if he hurt you in any way- I would kill him." Rick explains simply, his slightly hoarse words making warmth seep through my chest and widens my smile.
"Well, you tried," I murmur with a mischievous grin, making Rick tilt his head to look at me, unimpressed.
"D'you want me to go out there and finish the job? Because I will," Rick tells me with raised eyebrows, his voice laced with amusement. I know he's kidding but I also know without a doubt that he would if I asked him to.
Smiling, I shake my head. "I don't think that's necessary. And you're the one in bed with me, I'd say you won," I tease, eliciting a warm chuckle from Rick that reverberates through my body.
"Damn right," Rick mumbles affectionately, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead before we settle in for a well-deserved rest, the weight of the day's events gradually fading into the back of my mind.
The next day seems to fly by in a whirlwind of emotions and preparation for the meeting tonight. As we shared the news of our unexpected guest with the rest of our group, their reactions were a combination of shock and horrified disgust.
Michonne in particular couldn't hide her anger, grumbling under her breath with frustration when Rick told her we needed to let him go, a sentiment I found myself agreeing with.
Apart from recounting our ridiculous mission from the middle of the night, we work on what we're going to say tonight to vouch for Rick. I hear Maggie rehearsing with Sasha outside and I can already tell she's going to have the best speech. She gets that from her father, I think.
But as I go through the day, I find myself stumped on what to say.
How can I even begin to express how entirely I love and trust Rick? How can I possibly make those people, who really don't know us at all, understand my unwavering dedication to him?
Our family is who we are because of him. Even early on when I joined the group at the farm, it was him we looked to for answers. There was no vote, no decision to make him our leader, it just happened. Because we knew he was good- that he had a heart that he listened to and felt, especially when he had to do something difficult.
Since then, like all of us, he's grown into a stronger, colder, and hardened person- but that goodness remains. No amount of murder or violence can change that.
I'm not sure if he knows that, but I do.
As I grappled with what to say, I spent some time making sure Tara was okay after their run earlier that morning. She almost got killed because of Nicholas' idiocracy putting them all in danger and unfortunately, Deanna's son Aiden paid the price. Tara had some brain trauma and bleeding, but based on her pupil activity and preliminary exam, I assure Rosita and Eugene that she'll most likely be completely fine, as long as she wakes up soon.
After this, I spend time with the kids for a while, reminding them of what they need to do while we're gone. I'm not worried about Carl, Beth, Noah, Sophia, or Judith- I know they can handle themselves. And Tyreese is staying behind with them and promises me with a warm smile that he won't let Carl sneak out.
Despite knowing they will be perfectly fine, my heart still aches slightly as we get ready to leave that night and I say goodbye to their little faces.
"I'm gonna talk to Carl for a minute, I'll meet you there," Rick tells me in a hushed voice as we prepare to leave. I stop in my tracks, turning to him with a quizzical frown.
"Oh. Okay," I reply, slightly confused, but nonetheless offer him a warm smile, tilting my head to the side. Rick smiles back, his eyes lingering on my face for a moment before swiftly closing the gap between us, softly pressing his lips to mine.
My heart soars as I kiss him back, my fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him closer to me. His arms wrap around my waist, his body heat seeping through the thin fabric of my red cardigan.
"Ugh, get a room," Carl grumbles from somewhere nearby, his voice laced with playful disgust. I can't help but snort into our kiss before I pull away, my skin burning.
I don't miss the wonderful sound of Beth, Sophia, and Noah laughing boisterously in the background, making me smile warmly. We didn't get to hear that sound much on the road.
Rick sighs, sending an exasperated fatherly look in Carl's direction before saying goodbye to me again, without the kiss this time. Shaking my head with lingering amusement, I wave farewell to the others and follow the rest of the group already on their way to the meeting, leaving behind the love and heading toward the challenges that lie ahead.
Eugene and Rosita opted to stay with Tara instead of coming with us and I don't blame them for that. So it's Maggie, Michonne, Abraham, Carol, and I who arrive at the same brick courtyard near Deanna's house that we waited in the first day we got here.
That day feels so long ago now, but I can still vividly remember the fear I felt. The crippling anxiety as we waited for Rick to be done with his interview, terrified that this place would be another Terminus.
As we walk into the courtyard, I first notice the small fire crackling away in a metal fire pit and the collection of white foldable chairs surrounding it on one side, creating an audience. The chairs are already nearly full of the Alexandrians, including Eric, who I send a quick smile and raise my hand in greeting. He's alone since Aaron is with Daryl on one of their runs, which is concerningly taking longer than anticipated.
While we anxiously wait for the meeting to begin, I lean against a brick wall to the side, facing the fire and group, folding my arms tightly into myself, regretting not bringing a jacket. Trying to ignore how cold I am, I look around, searching for Rick.
He should be here by now.
My restless eyes scan past the fire smoke trailing up into the sky and the barely lit brick walls before finally resting on the darkened crowd. Just looking at their faces, I can see the palpable wariness spread among them. Their hushed and worried conversations only make my own anxiety worse- heightening my buzzing nerves as I wait for Rick to just fucking get here already.
The remaining people stream into the courtyard and I watch them, waiting for the relief of seeing Rick's familiar face.
The nearby fire does little to help my shivering as I nervously scan the expressions of those around me once again. Our family members are visibly anxious, their eyes darting around in search of Rick. The Alexandrians seem to be nervous about the same absence in a different, more... fearful way.
My heart sinks as Jessie walks in and sits down somewhere behind Eric, smiling weakly at the person beside her. She looks far better than when I saw her last- sobbing after seeing her husband be beaten to a pulp. Sensing my staring, her eyes flash up to meet mine, our gazes locking for a second.
I look away quickly, sharp guilt twisting my gut.
Deanna's stern voice cuts through the tension of the gathering, announcing the start of the meeting, aggressively jolting my nerves. My widened eyes flit to hers.
Already?
"Can we wait?" Maggie quickly asks, echoing my concerned thoughts, "There's still people comin'" She urges, searching Deanna's expression hopefully.
"We're going to start. It's already dark." Deanna reiterates with determination, ignoring Maggies plea's, making me close my eyes and look down with a cringe. I don't blame Deanna for her reluctance to help us- after all her son died this morning. And Nicholas made sure to blame Glenn and the others, of course.
The gathered audience shuffles into their chairs, ending their low conversations and focusing on their leader. My stomach tightly wound with anxiety, I turn to her as well, dread sinking through me.
Come on, Rick. Where are you?
"We're going to talk about what happened. Not just the fight- but what precipitated it," Deanna announces, her words making my stomach wrench unpleasantly, chills running down my spine at the reminder of what Pete did to deserve Rick beating him.
"We're going to talk about one of our constables, Rick Grimes." Deanna continues, her sentence only making that deep nasuated feeling in my gut intensify as I look around again, desperately scanning for any sign of him. I want to have faith in him and his undeniable ability to handle himself but I'm finding myself fighting the strong urge to go out and look for him myself.
"We're going to talk about how he had a pistol he had stolen from the armory, about how he pointed it at people, and we're going to talk about what he said." Deanna says firmly, searching the faces of the congregated people.
"I was hoping he'd be here-" She begins, tilting her head to the side in disappointment.
"-He will." I finish firmly for Deanna, making her falter, her eyebrows raising with doubt as she looks over at me on the far wall.
Before Deanna can respond, Carol leans forward and buts in. "I'm sure he'll make it. Then we can just figure this all out," She expresses helpfully, offering a sheepish and hopeful smile, conveniently omitting her own involvement in obtaining said pistol. Which involved threatening a Jessie's younger son if I'm not mistaken.
With little ol' Carol's comment, the meeting commences and the gathered people begin to talk about the man I love as if he's a criminal. It pains me to hear them talk about him like this is a trial, but I suppose to them, it is.
Our group talks on Rick's behalf, offering the truth about who Rick is. The incredible things he's done, facts about his character, and of course, Maggie's wonderful speech. A speech that I can tell by their expressions, touches the Alexandrians in a way they hadn't expected.
Then some of the Alexandrians speak up, voicing their fears, their reluctance to live with 'dangerous' people, and their hope of safety. As they do this, I notice Eric shaking his head with irritation, making deep gratitude for my friend flower in my chest.
When there's finally a break in the statements and opinions, I nervously step forward for my turn.
Shivering slightly, my cold hands clasped tightly together, I glance around at the gathered people staring at me expectantly. Letting out a shuddering exhale that creates a cloud of perspiration in front of me, I struggle to calm my lingering anxiety at Rick's continued absence.
"I want to start by thanking everyone who has spoken up for Rick." I begin earnestly, sending appreciative looks not only to my family but to the few Alexandrians who spoke on his behalf.
"I don't know why he's not here, but I'm sure he has a good reason," I assure them, sparing a glance at Deanna, who doesn't look too impressed.
"I-I could stand here and tell you all about how Rick Grimes changed my life for the better," I begin, my throat tightening slightly with the overwhelming love I feel for him. "But frankly, that would take a while," I admit with a slight breathy laugh, eliciting warm smiles of understanding from my family members.
Taking a deep inhale, I collect myself, staring into the group unflinchingly, hoping to express my sincerity. "Rick is a good man. And I know that must be hard to believe, for those of you who have only seen him here." I comment knowingly, catching the skepticism in their eyes.
"And what he did, taking the gun and fighting Pete, I know what it makes him look like- some... dangerous criminal," I get out with a wince, glancing around the group, my stomach spasming at the idea of anyone genuinely thinking that about him.
"And to be fair, Rick can be dangerous," I admit honestly, making a few Alexandrians shift in their seats uneasily. "But he's only dangerous to people who hurt his family. It's that simple." I assert passionately as I search their faces, catching the deep understanding of my family members listening.
"After everything we've been through out there," I say, nudging my head to the wall, "we have trust issues. We've encountered people who wanted to hurt us while pretending otherwise. So I'm sorry that Rick broke your rules, but to him- to us? It's survival." I attempt to explain, twisting my hands nervously and glancing across the many expressions of my listeners.
"As some of you know, Rick and I are together. And he-" my voice catches in my throat, and I pause for a second to regain my breath, placing my hands on my hips before I begin again. "He's the first man I've loved who hasn't hurt me. Who hasn't hit me or used me or- betrayed me." I breathe with thick emotion, blinking back tears, staring at the fire and not my listeners.
"He's the reason I'm here, standing in front of you. The reason I'm who I am. And if that's-" I'm abruptly cut off by a sudden deafening chorus of gasps filling the courtyard, making my stomach drop. I turn around with widened eyes to see Rick slowly walk into the courtyard, drenched in blood, a walker's body thrown over his shoulder.
What. The. Fuck.
"Sorry to interrupt," Rick tells me breathlessly before throwing the corpse on the brick floor in front of the fire, making the Alexandrians recoil backward in disgust, multiple cries erupting from the crowd. Stepping back, my jaw trembles slightly both because of the cold and the raw anxiety flowing through me at the man I love standing in front of me, covered in blood. I wrap my arms tighter around myself as I stare at Rick incredulously, wondering how on earth he ended up like this.
Rick's chest heaves as he looks up, scanning the crowd. His eyes, dilated in the dim light, meet mine once again. I search his expression, quickly checking his face for any injuries- but based on the color of the blood it most likely belongs to the walker in front of us, and not him.
In one unexpected move, Rick swiftly shoulders off his sherpa jacket, handing it to me wordlessly before turning to the group.
"There wasn't a guard on the gate," Rick announces roughly, his voice hoarse and out of breath as I take his jacket gratefully from him. Slipping my arms into its warmth, I can still feel the heat lingering from his body, instantly soothing my jittering nerves.
"It was open." Rick pants, his expression not exactly hiding how pissed off he is as he stands in front of the fire, the flickering light casting a dark shadow over his eyes.
"I-I asked Gabriel to close it," Spencer explains quickly, his voice wavering with concern, turning to his parents beside him, clearly desperate to explain himself.
Deanna wastes no time issuing a command to her son. "Go." she orders firmly, prompting Spencer to nod and run off to rectify the situation.
Rick steps forward, his gaze sweeping over the startled group, his voice gaining strength despite his exhaustion. "I didn't bring it in. It got inside on its own," he declares firmly, taking control of the narrative before they can twist it. I catch the fear on the Alexandrians' faces, clearly showing that they have never experienced something like this before.
"They always will- the dead and the living- 'cause we're in here," Rick lectures the crowd passionately. "And the ones out there... they'll hunt us. They'll find us. They'll try to use us. They'll try to kill us. But we'll kill them. We'll survive- I'll show you how," he announces, his rough words carrying the weight of his unwavering determination.
I watch with growing pride as the gathered group of strangers begin to grasp the gravity of the situation- clearly realizing the capable leader that Rick is. He lets out a sharp exhale through his nose as he pauses, taking a moment to slowly look around his captive audience.
"You know I was thinking... how many of you do I have to kill- to save your lives?" Rick poses the unsettling question with a tilt of his head, causing uneasiness to ripple through the group.
"But I'm not gonna do that. You're gonna change," he informs them confidently, his unwavering gaze set on them, his blood-streaked face set with determination.
Shifting his focus from the Alexandrians, Rick directs his stern words at their leader and her husband. "I'm not sorry for what I did the other night. Or what I said after. I'm sorry for not saying it sooner," he declares passionately as Deanna watches him, her arms crossed. "You're not ready. But you have to be. Right now, you have to be," he urges.
Rick then shifts his gaze back to me, the emotions in his eyes raw and palpable. "Luck runs out," he says simply, and I nod in deep understanding, my face contorting with emotion as I cling to his jacket. It's stained with his sweat and blood from what must be multiple walkers, but I don't care.
We look at each other for a beat of silence, his eyes boring deeply into mine. Like back in the church months ago, despite the blood covering him and the violence of what he just did, I'm not scared of him.
I'm relieved.
"You're not one of us."
Someone growls to my left at the entrance of the courtyard, causing me to flinch, the horrifically familiar voice making my stomach drop. "You're not one of us!" Pete repeats, stumbling lazily into the courtyard, his drunken words tumbling out of his swollen face.
I haven't seen him since the day he hurt me, making my nerves jolt aggressively as he enters the small courtyard. I instinctively step closer to Rick as he turns to glare at Pete, his hand hovering over the pistol on his belt.
"Pete, you don't want to do this," Reg interrupts, stepping in front of the blundering man, his calming voice attempting to stop him.
"Get the hell away from me, Reg," Pete grumbles, trying to shove past him, his swollen face contorted with rage. Panic grips my stomach as I catch the glint of the sword in Pete's left hand- Michonne's sword. Sparing a glance at her appalled expression, I'm guessing it wasn't exactly a gift.
"Pete, just stop," Reg repeats, disregarding his wife calling out to him as Pete angrily objects, struggling against the kind man.
Through my peripheral vision, I see Rick's hand planted firmly on the gun tucked into his waistband, his unwavering and darkened gaze fixed on the drunken man.
"Just stop!" Reg shouts, their overlapping voices getting louder as Pete angrily resists, shouting "Get away!" before pushing Reg off him and slicing Michonne's sword across his throat all in one quick move.
A harsh gasp forces itself past my throat, Deanna's scream piercing the air as Abraham tackles Pete to the ground. Reg stumbles backward, a wall of dark blood cascading down his chest. I tightly clamps my hand over my mouth at the the horrifying sight in front of my, my heart plummeting.
The courtyard descends into chaos, cries and shouts filling the air as Reg stumbles back, clutching his profusely bleeding throat. He collapses and his wife catches him, before cradling him in despair, her eyes wide with shock. Ignoring Rick's hand on my elbow trying to get me to stay, I rush over to Reg's side.
Dropping painfully to my knees on the unforgiving brick, I quickly assess the heavily bleeding man who has shown me nothing but warmth and kindness. Deanna repeatedly cries out in distress while I assess him, my heart sinking as I realize how extensive his wound is. The clean slice spans from one side of his neck to the other, too deep and catastrophic to save. Even if we were in a fully functioning OR at this very moment, he wouldn't make it.
A sob breaks past my lips as I make eye contact with the overwhelmingly distressed Deanna, my heart aching painfully. Pete is shouting something behind us, but I can barely hear his rambling over Deanna's panicked wails and the sound of her husband's incessant choking, the unmistakable metallic stench of blood burning the inside of my nostrils.
Reg's eyes flutter to a stop, only worsening Deanna's state, her repeated cries of "my love" blending incoherently with her inconsolable sobs. Her husband falls back and his body relaxes fully in her arms, his neck and body drenched with blood. His signature rimmed glasses are covered with speckles of blood, ruining them.
The traumatic sight of Reg, succumbing to his grievous injury and fading away within seconds, forces me to clench my eyes shut in a desperate attempt to block out the heart-wrenching reality.
Behind my tightly closed eyelids, a memory flies to the forefront of my mind- the image of Reg, standing in the gazebo, bathed in soft afternoon light as he offered me a kind and understanding smile. It was the day I was struggling and needed it the most. I never thanked him for that. Why didn't I thank him?
When I slowly open my eyes again and look up through a cloud of regret, I spot Abraham pinning Pete to the ground, his knee to his back and his hand pressing Pete's wounded face onto the brick. Despite this, Pete continues his drunken rambling.
Disgust at what Pete has done floods through me, mixing painfully with the despair of the unnecessary death. Moving my trembling hands from Reg's corpse, I look down at them, entirely covered with his blood. It feels profoundly wrong- like some horrific violation to be a surgeon covered in blood without having saved a life.
"Rick..." Deanna groans, her usually commanding voice trembling and weak. Her words draw my attention away from my blood-caked hands, a flicker of concern washing over me as I take in her grief-stricken expression.
The man I love turns to her, his blood-covered features etched with hardened determination. Amidst horror and death, Rick is always the image of strength, though his eyes flicker with a sadness he can't conceal. I know he cared for Reg just as much as I did.
"... do it." Deanna orders darkly, her face pulled in deep anger and grief.
Without a second of hesitation, Rick swiftly raises his pistol, the metal glinting in the dim light, and takes aim at Pete's head. The air grows heavy with tension as the crowd behind me holds its collective breath, the hushed anticipation of the grim moment overwhelming.
Then, with a resounding crack that shatters the silence, Rick pulls the trigger. The shot rings out like a thunderclap, its deafening echo reverberating through the small courtyard. A collective cry of shock erupts from the onlookers, the sound making my blood chill.
My eyes are locked on the scene as Abraham steps off the lifeless body of Pete, revealing three shadowed figures standing at the entrance of the courtyard. Squinting in the low light, I struggle to make them out, my heart pounding heavily against my ribcage.
Then one spoken word makes my stomach twist.
"Rick?" The familiar voice questions and my jaw drops in utter disbelief. Rick, lowering his gun, slowly raises his gaze in the direction of the voice, his mouth parting slightly.
As the figure steps forward, the feeble fire nearby casting a warm, flickering light, I begin to make out the features of the man who just spoke.
Morgan.
His face is etched with concern as he stands there in stark contrast to the man I encountered years ago while with Rick- a crazed man in sweat-stained clothes, living amidst a labyrinth of booby traps, with deeply sad eyes.
But Deanna grabs my attention from the reunion as she tries to move her husband, grunting in effort through her shuddering breaths. "Deanna- let me," I interrupt her movements gently, reaching out to grab her hands, making her still, her frightened eyes flitting to mine.
All of the annoyance, frustration, and anger I once felt for the woman is gone. Now all I feel is overwhelming compassion and heartbreak as I look into her defeated eyes. First her son, and now her husband. God, poor thing.
Behind me, Rick and Morgan are reuniting, which I watch for a second over my shoulder. I don't miss the way Morgan is looking at Rick- the same way Rick looked at him all that time ago.
Facing forward and rising to my feet, I help Deanna do the same as she tries to stand on her unstable legs. Before I can think about asking someone for help, Eric comes up to us quickly, offering a shoulder of support, making me shoot him a grateful look.
Abraham walks up to us as well, letting Deanna know in the kindest voice I've ever heard from him that he'll take care of Reg. Deanna just looks at him blankly, then her dead husband, which makes her expression crumple.
Eager to get her away from her husband's murder, Eric and I begin to gently steer her away. Before we can get far, Maggie, who had disappeared a few minutes ago, comes running up to me, out of breath.
"Glenn and Nicholas are hurt and Tara's awake- we need you," She pants desperately, her deeply worried eyes frantically searching mine. My stomach drops, intense worry surging through my veins, my grip on Deanna faltering.
Eric turns to me with wide, empathetic eyes. "Go," He urges earnestly, nudging his head towards Maggie.
With a panicked gulp, I nod to him in thanks, gently letting go of Deanna and hurriedly following Maggie past Rick and Morgan's reunion, headed for the infirmary.
When we burst through the door, I'm met with the sight of an awake and seemingly perfectly fine Tara tucked in bed, Rosita planted firmly at her bedside. Glenn sits precariously at the edge of Tara's bed, his clothes and parts of his face and hair drenched in blood, and Nicholas is slumped against a nearby stretcher, similarly bloodied.
My initial shock at the sight is quickly replaced by a surge of relief to see them standing and awake. "Jesus Christ," I mutter under my breath.
What the hell is going on tonight?
"We're fine," Glenn reassures me through his laborious breathing, his voice strained, prompting me to release a pent-up exhale of relief. "Just ran into some walkers past the wall," Glenn explains briefly, his breathless words carrying the weight of whatever they experienced out there. His wife hurries to his side, her face etched with concern, ready to tend to his injuries.
Tara's gentle worry cuts through the tense atmosphere in the infirmary. "I think we're okay, doc, but - are you?" she inquires gently, her eyes flicking down to my bloodied hands.
My stomach twists painfully at my horrific mix of emotions as I remember it all. Remember who's blood is on my hands. I tear my gaze away from Tara and turn to look at Nicholas, his wide eyes blinking back at me past the dark smears of blood on his features.
"I-I think you should go get Spencer," I tell him gently, my brows knitting tightly as I struggle to keep my composure. The lump in my throat threatens to choke me as Reg's last moments flash behind my eyes.
Nicholas's gaze drops to my blood-soaked hands, his skin paling as he seems to piece it together. "Is-" he begins, his voice quivering with concern.
"Just- go get him and tell him to find his mother," I repeat softly but firmly, my voice trembling slightly. I watch as dread flashes across his expression, and he nods in response, slowly standing up, a grimace of pain contorting his features.
"Do you need-" I begin, my gaze flashing down to his ankle, but he shakes his head, sparing a meaningful look at Glenn, who's watching him carefully.
"No. I'm okay," Nicholas says with a gulp before he limps out the door, leaving the room to reunite his friend with his mother.
As Nicholas leaves, I let out a long exhale, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I pinch the bridge of my nose, yet again reminded of the dried blood that stubbornly clings to my hands. Seeing this, I make my way to the nearby kitchen, glancing over my shoulder to see Maggie checking Glenn's neck.
"Glenn, you good?" I ask, my voice laced with concern as I scrub my hands vigorously under the hot water, using the nearby soap to meticulously remove every trace of Reg's blood. Pushing past the grief that still lingers in my chest, I swallow thickly and concentrate on the well-being of my friend.
"Bullet grazed me, but I'm fine," Glenn explains, still slightly out of breath. I squint my eyes slightly, scrutinizing the wound on his shoulder but nod in acceptance.
"Alright, I'll check if you need stitches," I respond, my gaze shifting to Tara, who sits nearby, leaning her back against the metal frame of the bed. "You feeling okay?" I ask her, my eyes scanning her tired expression. Despite the trauma she's endured, she manages to summon a weak smile and nods in response. Her skin looks a little pale, but her good spirits are a great sign.
After giving Tara a thorough neurological check, I allow Denise to take over so I can stitch up Glenn's bullet graze.
About half a hour later once finished tending to my friends, I feel a sense of accomplishment rushing through me as I throw away the bloodied gauze and ripp off my gloves.
"Thank you," Glenn says, still using a spare washcloth to get rid of the blood smeared on his face. I offer him a smile and nod.
"Of course," I murmur, my gaze drifting momentarily to the window behind him and the dark community beyond it. My thoughts linger on the man I couldn't save earlier tonight, his memory haunting me.
I'm jolted out of my lingering grief by the creaking of the door opening behind me. Swiftly turning around, I muster a weak smile as Rick enters, his slow steps carrying him closer to where I stand. His gaze, intense and unwavering, locks onto mine, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of the world seems to ease as our eyes connect
"Hey," I sigh, my gaze fixing on Rick's tired yet thoughtful expression. He nods in greeting, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his focus briefly shifts to our friends.
"Tara, you're awake," he breathes, his shoulders relaxing slightly as Tara responds with an infectious grin, giving him a thumbs-up. Denise continues her medical checks, her ongoing dedication to her perfectly healthy patient drawing a wry amusement from me.
"Yeah, I'm okay too," Glenn chimes in with a grin, and Rick's smile widens, a glimmer of playful relief dancing in his eyes for the first time in hours.
"I know," Rick replies casually with an amused look as I narrow my eyes, inspecting Rick's bandages tainted with walker blood.
Seeing how disgusting they are, I click my tongue in annoyance. It's as if he has made it his mission to single-handedly deplete all of our goddamn medical supplies.
"You're going to be the death of my bandage stockpile, I swear," I mutter, unable to contain my frustration as I take matters into my own hands and grab Rick's, determined to rectify the situation. With a firm grip, I lead him by the hand into the nearby patient room, since Tara and Glenn are already occupying the ones in the main area.
Sitting Rick down on the bed, I get to work, gently but efficiently removing his grimy bandages. My expression contorts with disgust as I peel away the soiled layers. "How exactly did you manage to get this much blood on you?" I question, my raised eyebrows reflecting a mix of incredulity and a begrudging amazement for his uncanny ability to find himself like this on a near-daily basis.
Rick manages a half-smile tinged with a wince of discomfort as the adhesive from his bandages tugs at his skin. "Long story," he breathes warily and I can't help but shake my head, a smile of amusement tugging at my lips.
I collect his dirtied bandages and toss them in the trash before turning to the cabinet to retrieve fresh bandages and a washcloth. "So, how is he?" I ask, glancing over my shoulder as Rick looks up from his hands, clearly deep in thought.
"He's fine. Eating at home with Daryl." Rick confirms Morgan's whereabouts making me nod as I return to his side.
"Did you ask him about Spencer?" I inquire with genuine curiosity, my voice soft as I dip the cloth into a bowl of warm water to wipe away the dried blood from Rick's features. Rick starts to nod in response, but I stop him, my hand placed gently but firmly on his jaw to ensure he keeps still.
"Yeah, he corroborated his story," Rick responds, his eyes fixed on me with a careful intensity as I work to clean his skin. I hum thoughtfully in acknowledgment. So Spencer was telling the truth then.
Amid the quiet rustling of my careful medical care, a comfortable silence falls over us. With each stroke of the washcloth, I restore Rick's handsome features to their natural state, the residue of blood slowly but surely disappearing as the water in the bowl turns a murky red-brown.
As I complete the final wipe of his face, I catch a fleeting glimmer of emotion behind Rick's eyes, a subtle shift that makes me pause. I gently place the dirty washcloth aside, a flicker of concern darting through me
"Rick?" I utter softly, my voice laced with tenderness as his deep gaze lifts to meet mine. My gut tightens at the expression of regret behind his blue eyes.
"D'you think what I did- was right?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a rasping whisper, his vulnerability panging my heart.
"What? Shooting Pete?" I ask gently, my brows turning up in the middle as I search his expression. Rick nods, averting his gaze.
Confusion swirls in my mind as Rick continues, still not meeting my inquisitive eyes. "Just seeing the way Morgan looked at me after-" Rick lets out a heavy sigh, shaking his head slightly. "It was like he thought I was insane," Rick mutters under his breath, his brows furrowed deeply.
"It made me think how different I was when I saw him last," Rick comments quietly, the uncertainty in his slightly trembling voice sending sympathy flooding through me.
This part of knowing Rick to his core is what hurts my heart. Seeing what no one else sees- the aftermath of the decisions he has to make. How they affect him this deeply.
Tilting my head to the side, I furrow my brows with determination. "You are not insane," I tell him confidently, my voice firm but gentle. His conflicted eyes rise to meet mine.
Seeing his disbelieving look, I sigh. "I know you came in near the end, so you didn't hear what our family said about you," I begin as I grab a a cotton ball and some hydrogen peroxide, carefully dabbing his cuts to fully clean them as those blue eyes watch me unflinchingly.
"They talked about how you're a good man," I continue, my words carrying the weight of the sentiments shared among our family, "despite the hard and sometimes... scary things you have to do." I say carefully, watching the subtle emotions that flash across Rick's features, his eyes showing the depth of his feelings as he blinks at me.
Done with the peroxide, I grab some of the small bandages, turning to put them on his now-clean cuts. "They spoke about how none of us would've become the family we are without you," I add, my voice steady but filled with genuine sincerity. I notice the furrow of his brows, clearly not agreeing with the idea.
"That's not-" Rick begins but I stop him.
"-I'm not done," I interrupt with expectantly raised eyebrows, making amusement flash behind his eyes as he relents, looking down with a slight smile. "No matter what you think, we all value you for the compassionate, smart, and brave man that you are. And none of us were going to let them change that." I inform him passionately as I stick another couple of bandages on his face, less than last time as his some of his cuts have healed.
"Did you hear what I said when I spoke?" I ask him curiously, tilting my head to the side, my heart beginning to pound heavier in my chest at what I'm about to say.
Rick's eyes dart to the side as he remembers. "Something along the lines of you being who you are because of me," he mutters, not seeming to believe the words himself.
I smile slightly to myself as I gently lay a bandage across the bridge of his nose. "Well. Before that," I begin, "I told them that we were together. And... that you're the first man I've loved who hasn't hurt me," I tell him gently, watching the surprise flash across his expression, his widened eyes darting back and forth as he attempts to read my expression.
I place the final bandage above his eyebrow and lean back with a wistful smile, my heartbeat slamming against my ribcage.
"I'm in love with you Rick. No matter what you think about yourself. No matter what anyone thinks." I tell him sincerely, my heart still pounding away aggressively.
Rick's usually rugged and composed expression crumples, those deep blue eyes full of emotion underneath his knitted eyebrows. "I'm in love with you too. Jesus, Cass. I love you so much," He breathes candidly, his hoarse words making me smile broadly, a laugh bubbling up my throat.
Rick Grimes loves me back.
Not being able to help it, I lunge forward, wrapping my arms around him tightly, drawing myself into his comforting arms. Rick sighs into our embrace, his broad hands coming around and laying flat on my back, pulling me snugly into him.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to tell you that," I tell him, my voiced muffled against his shoulder, making him chuckle warmly.
"I think I might have an idea," He says smugly under his breath, making me roll my eyes, my cheeks hurting with how hard I'm smiling.
"You're too damn cocky for your own good. You know that right?" I mutter as I pull away, my arms still looped around his neck. Rick's hands slide down until they're resting on my hips as he grins brazenly back at me.
"You love it- and you love me," Rick reminds me warmly, his smile broad, seemingly extremely happy to say those words.
My chest fluttering madly with butterflies, I nod, grinning right back at him. "Touché Grimes," I mumble through my smile, before leaning forward and kissing him slowly.
Rick kisses me back, his grip on my hips tightening, sending familiar excitement shooting through me.
Breaking our kiss, Rick sighs contentedly, his breath fanning across my skin as he presses his forehead to mine. "I love you. And you love me," He whispers hoarsely with slight disbelief, making me smile widely.
"Thank god," I mutter through my grin, before closing the distance between us once again, kissing the man who loves me.