AS THE WORLD FALLS DOWN I RICK GRIMES

I've Been Waiting To Meet You

I've Been Waiting To Meet You

Gargoyles standing at the front of your gate
Trying to tell me to wait...

Daryl clutched the casserole dish like it was a bomb, the palms of his hands sweating, wishing he was out in the woods instead of walking into what seemed like a PTA meeting, the squawking voices and sickly sweet smell of perfume setting him instantly on edge. It was Carol he blamed for this, blackmailing him into showing his face at this goddamn lunch with Rick, saying he was damaging Carl and Judith's chances in Alexandria with his surly behavior. She'd forced him to wash up before dragging a comb through his shaggy hair and turning him out of the house, ordering him to behave himself, making him flick the middle finger at her, a gesture Carol had cheerfully returned.

Rick edged around him, holding Judith in his arms, Carl at his heels, slightly taken aback at the sight before him. Jessie's living room was packed out with women, Alexis nowhere to be seen, an example he wished he could follow. As he and Daryl stood in the doorway, heads turned, conversations trailing to a stunned stop, the sheer amount of attention making the sweat bead on his neck. He felt like a chicken surrounded by foxes, making him take a step back, only to crash into Eugene.

"What the hell are you doin' here!?" Daryl hissed, trying to keep a grip on the casserole dish, but it was rapidly becoming a losing battle.

"Carol sent me over to attend this social luncheon," Eugene explained almost robotically, "I was impeding the progress of her cleaning of the kitchen so I thought it expedient to follow her advice and bring my person here" -

- "Look what the cat dragged in," Pamela Scott, an overconfident divorcee from Charleston drawled, coming over to them, her overpowering tones drowning out Eugene, "three hunks for our delicate delectation" -

- "Hands off, honey," Martha Evans boomed, "I saw Biceps first."

"Well, I'm claimin' Blue-Eyes here," Pamela said, slipping her arm through Rick's, "come and sit down beside me, darlin', and tell me all about yourself." Rick submitted to being led over to the sofa, glancing over his shoulder as the rest of the women descended on Daryl and Eugene, blocking them from his sight.

"So, you a friend of Jessie's?" Rick tried to say politely, silently cursing as Carl made a successful break for it, disappearing through the doorway.

"She's my best friend," Pamela said, tossing her head back, thrusting her padded chest out, "especially after introducin' me to you." She smiled at him, revealing buck teeth, making Rick grimace back, realizing too late that the lunch was just a husband trap, that all of Alexandria's single women must be in this room right now.

"Look what I picked up, Pammy," Sarah Marshall cackled, dragging Eugene over, looking old enough to be his mother, "it's the quiet ones you have to watch." She stroked Eugene's mullet like one would a cat, Rick repressing the hysterical urge to laugh. "I bet you've got a trick or two up your sleeve," she leered at Eugene, making him swallow hard.

"Who's the cherub?" Dana Alcott demanded, sitting down in the seat opposite, gesturing with her wine-glass at Judith.

"Uh, this is my daughter Judy," Rick said, tightening his arms around her, "and I have a son, Carl, he's about Jessie's son's age."

"Her correct rubric is Judith," Eugene said formally, "Judy is reminiscent of the puppet, a derogatory association" -

- "And Pete's Punch," Samantha Wilkins laughed from behind them, making Rick's head snap up, only to see a middle-aged blonde with a bad perm, everybody within a four feet radius snorting into their wine-glasses at her wit.

"Who's Pete?" he asked, confused, not getting the joke.

"He's Jessie's husband," Pamela said, pinching Judith's cheek, making her rosebud mouth screw up threateningly, "knocks her about, y'know, like Punch and Judy? The sister too, but I don't have much sympathy for her, Ms. High and Mighty, actin' all look but don't touch, yet she's been literally around the Alexandrian block at least twice, includin' Deanna's darlin' boys, but not all at once, though who knows" -

- "What's bein' done about it?" Rick demanded, fighting to control the almost illogical rage rising in him.

"Pete?" Pamela said astutely, raising a plucked eyebrow. "Nothin's been done, sugar. What can anybody do? He's our only doctor, we kind of need him."

"Where's the rest of your friends?" Samantha said to Rick, leaning down, threatening to fall out of her dress. "I heard Alex brought back a veritable barbarian horde."

But Rick didn't answer her, his attention unwillingly caught instead by Olivia's raised voice, recognizing her from last night. Her face was flushed, the rest of her almost spilling out of a spaghetti-strapped dress, her hands all over Daryl, squeezing his biceps, the other women following her example, Daryl cringing away from them, making Rick see red. "Gonna call them off my friend," he said to Pamela, struggling to stay polite, jerking his head in Daryl's direction, "he doesn't do too well with strangers."

"Right gels, hands off the mountain man!" Pamela hollered across the room, the volume of her voice making Rick wince, Judith burying her face in the crook of his neck. But the women gave Daryl a wide berth, much to Rick's relief, Daryl still clutching that goddamn casserole dish like it was the Holy Grail.

"You fancy havin' some more of those critters?" a redhead asked, waving her wine-glass at Judith, making his head snap up in shock. "It's our duty to repopulate the world, y'know."

"Hands off, Sue-Ellen," Pamela admonished, grabbing Rick's knee, "this one's mine."

Rick just grimaced again, mind awhirl with what he'd learned about Alexis, about who was really responsible for her black eye, dismissing the rest of Pamela's gossip as malicious bull-shit, not really caring either. What Alexis did in her private life was none of his business; it wasn't his place to judge. But if the only doctor within these walls was a violent woman-beating thug, well, that was more than his business.

Just as he was thinking this, Alexis popped her head round the door, her face pale and strained, making him realize that she had nothing to do with this circus. His eye caught hers, and she shot him a desperate glance, anxiety mixed up with apology, her gaze then travelling across the rest of the chaotic room, the sight making her jaw tighten.

With a whirl of blonde hair, she was suddenly gone, leaving Rick staring stupidly at the space she just vacated, Pamela squeezing his knee, her fingers digging into his flesh, making him start violently. "I see you're sufferin' from the Alexis Effect," she said deadpan, "want me to run you a cold shower, sugar? Maybe I can join you, huh? Make you forget about Ms. Priss-Pants, hmmm?"

Rick just sat there, feeling like he was caught in the grip of some nightmare, unable to escape. Eugene was now waxing forth on the merits of solar power, his voice oddly high, Sarah's grey eyes glazing over, but her hand was on his fat thigh, staking her territory. Rick's gaze met Daryl's angry one, the redneck still surrounded by women, still clutching the casserole dish, not thinking of setting it down.

"Who's that?" Samantha gasped, her jaw dropping as Abraham sauntered into the living room, chest puffed out, reeking alcohol fumes.

"Who's here for the strip-show!?" he boomed, before ripping open his shirt, revealing a broad expanse of ginger chest hair, a roar of approval rippling around the room, Daryl finally dropping the casserole dish.