Knock, knock! A year and a half later... hopefully, this makes up for my absence. I can't wait to hear from you guys, I hope you like it!

Twenty-Four.

Michonne weaves in and out of traffic as the night air whips in through the open window and plays with her pony tail. Rick stays silent in the passenger seat, taking deep breaths and slamming his eyes closed as she maneuvers through the Friday night traffic. She's lucky he loves her. She slows down once she takes her familiar exit, keeping her eyes forward when she feels his crystal blues on the side of her face. She tries to hide the smirk on her face but fails miserably as a giggle erupts from her chest.

"Very funny, Ms. Moreau." He lightly chides, his voice dipping low but still managing to have a humorous tone.

"Thank you. I was voted most likely to make her Dominant laugh in high school, so I appreciate the sentiment."

Rick laughs loudly, resting his head lightly on the headrest behind him, "You are so lame."

"I was voted most lame too." She shrugs as the light turns green before her.

"Now that, I believe. You were probably the biggest nerd in high school."

She swats at his arm quickly, "Shut up. I got into some trouble thank you very much."

"Mmm hmm." He groans, squinting his eyes and nodding sarcastically.

Michonne pulls the vehicle into one of the curb side parking spaces right in front of the Flashpoint Paradox. She cuts the engine and steps out, swirling the keys in a circle around her index finger as she joins Rick on the sidewalk, "You still gonna let me drive that Tesla?"

He scoffs loudly, his mouth dropping open, "Fuck no!"

"What?" Michonne shrieks before dissolving into a fit of laughter, "I can't believe you!"

"Believe it, sister. You're not going anywhere near my baby."

She throws her head back in laughter, clapping her hands a little as she starts to move toward the front door, "That's cold, Grimes." She laments, glancing over her shoulder.

"Not after what I just witnessed it's not."

She unlocks the door with her set of keys and pushes through. The lights are bright, the overhead music loud as Beth leans over the bar, counting the till for the night. Noah stands by the comic wall, bopping his head lightly before shimmying his shoulders as he sings to himself. Beth snaps her head toward them as she picks up their movements in her peripheral vision. She smiles widely, one of those smiles that takes over her whole face, and stands erect, throwing her pencil down and rushing her boss. She crashes into Michonne's body, drawing another loud laugh from the older woman who wraps her arms around the young, blue eyed girl.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!" Beth chortles, holding her tight, "God, you look so good!"

Michonne continues to laugh but returns Beth's hold on her, full force, "I have been MIA lately, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Beth clicks her tongue as she pulls back, turning her attention to Rick, "You have very good reason to be MIA. Hi, I think we've met once before. I'm Beth." She introduces her herself, holding out her hand.

Rick smiles back genuinely, taking her hand and shaking it firmly, "I believe we have. I'm Rick Grimes."

Beth looks him up and down quickly with a playful smile on her lips, "Rick Grimes as in the same Rick Grimes Noah keeps gushing about?" She throws her eyes over her shoulder as Noah approaches quickly, "Oh, Mr. Grimes is so smart, he is such a legend. Oh my god, let me tell you what Mr. Grimes said today, he's so funny!"

Noah pushes her lightly as she mocks him before clearing his throat and offering his hand to Rick, "I don't gush about you, Mr. Grimes. This woman has no manners about her."

Rick laughs again, "Don't call me Mr. Grimes, I feel like you're talking to my father. Please, just Rick."

"Sorry," Noah starts. He shoots his eyes to Michonne, who's wrapped her arm around Rick's free one loosely. Noah isn't necessarily sure if he's ever seen her this casual before, and he for damn sure has never seen Rick in anything less than a thousand-dollar suit. Noah's been so busy lately, and with Michonne barely coming to work, he hasn't gotten the full story until, well, now. His boss is fucking his other boss. He's not entirely sure how to feel about that. That's a lie, he knows exactly how to feel about it. Awkward. He feels the heat rising in his face and turns on his heel quickly, "I'm gonna get back to these comics. Nice to see you both." He calls as he walks back toward the wall.

Beth squints her eyes at him as he moves away from the group and shakes her head. Twenty-one years old going on twelve, "He is so fucking weird."

Michonne giggles. She's missed them. She misses the youth of them, "So things are good? You haven't had any issues?" She asks as they move back toward the bar.

Beth nods confidently as she grabs the receipts she needs signed from underneath the bar and pushes them toward Michonne, "Everything has been awesome. This place practically runs itself."

"You aren't mad at me?" Michonne asks as she scribbles her name.

Beth rolls her eyes deeply before blowing some air out of her mouth, pushing her bangs out of her eyes, "I'm not mad. I love this place and I love you. I'm glad to see you having some fun." She winks and nods her head toward Rick, who sits at the bar, his face buried in his phone, "I wouldn't be too worried about this place either if I had him to go home to."

Michonne gasps and slaps at her hip, "Beth Gallagher!"

"I mean it! He is gorgeous. I can't believe Maggie hid him from you as long as she did."

"Well," Michonne starts, nodding her head, "She had a pretty good damn reason. He's um, let's just say, he has very singular interests."

Beth brings her hand to her chest, "Ooooh, he really sounds like fun now."

Rick stands after a few moments and motions toward the front door, "I'm going to check in with Tara super quick, I'll be outside, okay?"

"And I'm the workaholic?" Michonne quips, quirking her eye brow.

"Shut up. I'd be in bed right now if it weren't for you." He calls over his shoulder as he pushes back out into the warm night.

Just as the front door closes, the door to the back swings open as Carl pushes through. His face breaks into a large smile as he moves his beats from his ears to on his shoulders, "Michonne."

Michonne whips her head toward the sound of her name and smiles widely back at the brown-haired teenager, "Carl! Come here!"

He moves toward her and laughs loudly as she pulls him into a large hug. He laughs again as she sways them back and forth slightly before she leans back to look at him, "You've gotten taller."

"No, I haven't." He chuckles.

"Well, It seems like it. How have you been? I'm so happy to see you!"

"I'm good, I'm good. I'm glad to be back here. How have you been? And Maggie, I haven't seen her since I've been back either."

She sighs happily, "I am really good, I'm enjoying myself actually. Maggie is in Florida as we speak doing god knows what."

"Or who." Carl quips quickly, laughing lightly as Michonne swats his arm.

"That's not nice."

Rick turns his back to the door as he lifts the phone to his ear, knowing that the ambitious Tara is more than wide awake. It rings twice before her chipper voice fills his head, "Rick, hello."

"How are we this evening, Ms. Chambler? I'm not interrupting anything I hope."

"Never," Tara smiles, throwing her eyes toward Rosita as she towels off from her shower at the edge of Tara's bed, "What's up? We were worried about you earlier, it's not like you to miss a day of meetings."

"I encourage everyone to use their personal time except myself. Figured today was as good as any. Just wanted to check in with you about your projects."

"They're all on track…" Her voice begins to fade as Rick glances down the street. He squints his eyes and stands up a little straighter as a SWAT vehicle turns onto the street. He keeps his eyes on it as it barrels toward him, slamming on its breaks right in front of the Flashpoint Paradox. He turns quickly to face the door, his eyes landing on Michonne and Beth as they chat with a second young man. He takes a step toward the door but stops dead in the tracks as a familiar voice calls out to him.

"Rick, step back."

"Lori, I'm tired." Shane sighs aggressively, rubbing the back of his neck with his large hand, "Don't start."

"Don't tell me not to start." She seethes, "I'm sick of arguing with you!"

"You're the one that's arguing! Bitching and moaning all the fucking time about shit we can't control!" He sighs again, dropping his hands to his hips as he moves his eyes toward the window, "I knew we shouldn't have come back here."

Lori sucks her teeth, shaking her head as a slow smile spreads on her lips out of anger, "You're right, maybe we shouldn't have moved back here, but I do know this. No matter where we would have ended up, we," She says deeply, motioning her hand between herself and him, "Can't fix this."

Shane nods slowly, almost in defeat. She's right and he knows it, but he doesn't want to deal with it. Not on a Friday night anyway, "I'm going to the bar."

Lori laughs as he moves by her, "Yeah. Do what you know best, run."

It's Shane's turn to laugh, "Right back atcha, kid."

She watches him as he throws open the front door and jogs down the front steps, completely out of sight. She closes her eyes and tilts her head toward the ceiling. She just stands there, letting the hurt and the pain, the guilt, the fear, the hatred pool around her. She has to feel it, she has to make herself feel it or she won't be able live with herself any longer. She opens her eyes after a few moments, listening for any movement from her teenage daughter. She must have on her headphones. Usually, she'd would have stormed out of her room, tears streaming down her face as she screamed at her so-called parents to cut it out. She's an emotional child. Something she picked up for her no doubt. Rick was never much of a crier.

Lori moves to the window and gazes out into the still Georgia night. She drops her hand to her back pocket and pull out the small, white business card. Her fingers trace the edges of the sturdy card, flipping it over, tapping it lightly on her palm. She looks down at it, reading over the name printed neatly in the center. Carol Peletier. Special Agent. Missing Persons. She looks out of the window again, her mind replaying her afternoon. She sits outside that building every day. Sometimes for hours. Today, she finally had the courage to go in. She threw on her big sunglasses and clutched her purse to her chest as she moved inside and went straight to the front desk.

She was vague with the receptionist, not giving any important details. She just let on that maybe, just maybe, she had heard some rumors about an old kidnapping that happened a few counties over, about seventeen years prior. The receptionist shoved the card toward her and returned her attention to her computer screen, having heard a hundred "rumors" already today. Lori takes another breath as the trees rustle with the wind, tapping the card against her hand as her mind continues to race. She owes this to her children. It doesn't matter what happens to her. They deserve this.

"Are you finished with the coffee already?" Beth asks, tossing a small towel over her shoulder.

"Almost," Carl says throwing his hands up in defense, "I ran outta room on my sheet, I just came out to get a new one. Dang lady!"

Michonne smiles at him as Beth orders him back into the stock room, wanting to get finished before midnight, "When are you working next Carl, I wanna catch up with you." Michonne asks as the boy steps off.

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"I'll buy dinner, how's that? As gratitude for all of you guys hard work. We can shut down a little early and have something brought in."

"Sounds good to me." Noah calls.

Michonne looks toward Beth, who nods and smiles, then back to Carl, "Works for me." He agrees, shrugging slightly, "I'll let my mom know I'll be late." He wiggles his fingers at Michonne and places his wireless Beats back on his ears, cranking up the volume.

Carol places her hand on Rick's shoulder and pulls him backward toward the side of the building. Two agents line up behind her and three others stand just on the other side of the door. Their guns are raised toward the door, Carol's literally over Rick's shoulder, "What the fuck Carol?" He whispers harshly.

"It's a long story, okay, just hang on with me." She reaches toward her shoulder, pressing in the two buttons on the side of her walkie, "Tiller, come in."

"Tiller."

"My girlfriend is in there." Rick hisses, "There's kids in there! What are you doing?"

"Are you in position?" Carol asks back into the walkie, ignoring the angry Rick.

"10-4."

"Carol!" Rick hisses again in a hushed but stern tone.

Tiller hold up two fingers to his men as he waits for Peletier's signal, "Move." She says briskly into the walkie, resting her hand back onto her weapon.

Tiller points twice toward the door and moves briskly through the front yard of the small house, two men follow him, jogging up the porch and flanking either side of the door, as Agent Shotwell turns toward the road, his eyes scouring their surroundings. Tiller takes the steps with ease and slams his foot into the front door, once, twice, three times until it pops open, slamming against the wall on the inside. Lori sits straight up in bed, her head whipping toward her bedroom door as loud footsteps ring through her home. She throws her feet over the side of the bed, running toward the bedroom door and throwing it open.

"FBI, hands up, now!"

"Mom?" Judith calls out in fear as she steps out from her own bedroom.

"Hands up!" Tiller screams, his gun trained on the young woman, "Name! What's your name?" He asks.

"J-j-j-Judy." She whimpers, her hands over her head.

Two officers make quick work of Lori, whipping her around and placing cuffs on her wrists as Tiller secures the young Judith. Lori's eyes are wide, her chest heaving as the large men manhandle her down the hall way, "My daughter!" She screams, "Where are you going with my daughter, you bastards!" She screams, fighting against the agent who has her, "God dammit!"

"Mom!" Judy cries as Tiller pushes her toward the front door.

"You're okay baby, you're okay." Lori tries to calm her, "I'm right here, okay? I'm right here."

Tiller has set a brisk pace. He pushes the barefooted girl down the steps and quickly secures her into the back of his SUV, ignoring her screams and tears. He turns on his heel as Lori and Agent Woodson are the next out of the house as Shotwell moves inside to help secure each of the bedrooms. Tiller stands stoic, his eyes scanning the house and the roads as he waits for confirmation. Woodson and Shotwell return moments later, with Woodson giving a thumbs up, "All clear."

Carol pushes past Rick, stepping in front of him and quickly rearranging her hands on her weapon, "What in the fuck is going on?" Rick seethes, his blood beginning to boil at the dramatics, "You're going to scare them!"

"Peletier."

She holds up her hand quickly, shushing Rick as Tiller's voice comes over the radio, "Go ahead."

"Female package is secure, female suspect apprehended. Priority number one is absent, male suspect absent."

"10-4." She makes eye contact with the agent standing on the opposite side of the door, "Move."

The agents move around Carol and Rick and rush inside the small business, with Carol bringing up the rear. Michonne, Beth, and Noah jump at the noise, Beth screaming loudly at the sudden intrusion. The agents spout off instructions as Carol's keen eyes move around the empty coffee shop.

"Hands up!"

Noah drops his pencil and throws up his hands as Michonne and Beth follow suit. The agents move to each one of them, whipping them around and cuffing them all to secure the shop. Rick moves inside, his eyes wide with anger as he watches, completely out of control, "Carol! Fuck!" He screams.

"Be easy with them, be easy." Carol says calmly, linking eyes with Michonne, "Carl Hayes. Is he here?"

Michonne pushes hot breath out of mouth through her teeth, her motherly instincts coming over her, "What do you want with him?"

"Is he here?" Carol repeats lowly.

"Why?" Michonne asks loudly.

"Listen, this is bigger than you. Tell me where he is." Carol raises her voice, her heart in her throat, "Now."

A movement in front of them snaps all their attention toward the swinging door of the back room. Rick's mouth falls open as the young Carl steps out from the back room, stopping in his tracks as ten pairs of eyes land on him. Rick exhales slowly as his eyes instantly cloud over with tears. He'd know that face anywhere. Even after all this time. He is still his sweet faced little boy. Rick blinks, causing a tear to slip down his cheek as his chin trembles with emotion.

"What the fuck?" Carl lets out, pushing his hands over his head as he stares down the barrels of six guns, "Holy shit."

"Easy, easy." Carol sighs lightly, holding up her hand to calm everyone in the room, "What's your name?"

Carl is silent, swallowing deeply as he throws his eyes toward Michonne, "Michonne?"

"Hey, right here. What's your name son?" Carol asks again. She just needs him to say it. Say it!

"Carl?" A small voice sounds from behind Carol, pulling Carl's attention toward it.

Rick steps beside Carol, his blue eyes still locked on the young boy before him. Carl lets out a slow breath, his eyes squinting as his face breaks in confusion. He knows that face. Those eyes. He can't place them immediately but, he's seen them before. Gazed into them. He feels an energy from this man almost instantly. He knows that energy. He's felt it before. They stare at each other, one standing in confusion, the other standing in certainty. Rick knows that's his boy. That's his boy.

Rick swallows quickly, his voice deep, "Carl, it's me bud." He takes a few heavy breaths, trying to remain calm, "It's me, don't you remember?"

"What's your name?" Carol starts again, cutting Rick off, "We just need your full name."

Carl can't take his eyes off the man before him, his mind racing. Carol tosses her eyes between the young man and his eager father, knowing that she won't be able to keep Rick back for much longer, "What's your name honey? It's okay."

"How do you know my name?" Carl asks breathlessly, unable to take his eyes off the older man.

"It's me. It's," Rick can't even find the words. He blinks quickly as more emotion takes over him, "I'm…" His voice falls away, "I'm your dad. It's dad."

Carl's eyes well up with tears as memories, deep, long forgotten memories play in his head. They're fractured, just snippets of moments, but he remembers. He remembers now. He knows that voice. That's the same voice that used to sing to him. It's the same voice that told his younger self that his daddy loved him. But, it can't be. It can't. It's just…. More tears fall down Rick's face as his chest begins to heave, his breath escaping him faster and faster. Fear and anger and concern rush through his veins as he watches tears begin to stream down his sons face, his parental instincts flooding over him. Michonne, Noah, and Beth stare in disbelief as the scene plays out in front of them, their mouths open in disbelief.

"No." Carl shakes his head, closing his eyes, "No. No, no, no. It can't be, it's not-"

Rick nods slowly, covering his mouth with his hand. He takes a breath and closes his eyes, trying to calm himself, not wanting to scare Carl. He drops his hand to his chest, letting out an audible breath, "It's me buddy."

"I don't know you." The scared Carl hisses back, refusing to believe his own mind. It can't be true. His mom wouldn't lie to him, she wouldn't.

"Yes, you do." Rick answers softly, "You know me. Try and remember, you know me. I know you. I'd know you anywhere."

"Carl," Carol coos, shifting her weight evenly between her feet as she keeps her eyes on Rick, "Look at me, it's okay. It's okay, we are not going to hurt you." Carl lets out a sob, his body beginning to shake from all the emotion swirling within him. He drops his head as Carol begins to speak again, "We can clear this up for you, I promise."

"No." Carl musters, his eyes cloudy and red as tears make their escape down his face, "He's dead. You're dead. She told me."

"She lied. I would never leave you buddy." Rick counters quickly.

"Rick, please." Carol whispers in a hushed voice, "You're Carl Hayes, right?" She asks, trying to take back control.

Carl shakes his head quickly, unable to find any words. Rick starts to move toward him, but Carol stops him. He pushes her hands away and keeps moving, this time being stopped by one of the large agents, "You're scaring him." Rick says, struggling against the man.

"Just tell us your name, bud. I just need to hear it." Carol says, her eyes shifting between him and Rick.

"You're scaring him!" Rick screams, pushing and shoving against the man in front of him, "Stop!"

"Carl." Carol says louder.

Carl lets out a sob as his world falls in and out place, all at the same time. All the running. Picking up, literally in the middle of the night sometimes, and being in a completely new state in the morning. It wasn't as normal as his mother and Shane used to try and make it. The name changes, the lies to his teachers. It wasn't normal. It wasn't… The picture he found in his mothers' things sticks in his mind, front and center, like a projector image plastered on a wall. That man in that picture stands in front of him now. His hair is longer, his beard grayer, the lines in his face deeper, but those eyes. Those eyes are the same. Those eyes in that picture he's stared at for years, stare back at him now and he knows. He knows. That was his father in that picture. This is his father standing in front of him now.

"Dad?" He lets out, his broken voice barely above a whisper.

The boy sinks to the ground as the realization finally hits him. He breaks down, his cries loud and he rakes his fingers through his hair. Rick loses his cool completely, pushing the taller man violently and rushing toward his crying boy. He places his hands on either side of Carl's face, cupping his cheeks in his large hands, "I'm here. I'm right here bud."

Carol wants to let this play out. Only she and God knows how long Rick has waited for this moment. She has a job to do though. It isn't finished, not yet. She nods toward one of the agents, lowering her gun, "Take him, easily." She says low, "Easy."

One of the men pulls Rick away as two more gently corral the emotional boy. Rick watches in horror as they move his son out of the store, his eyes frantic as he again begins to struggle, "Where are you taking him? Where are you taking him? Let me see my boy! Let me have my son!"

"Rick, listen to me." Carol's voice is soft and easy as she tries to calm her friend.

"Carol." He begs as he sobs openly.

She turns toward on of the agents, "Uncuff them." She directs, turning her eyes toward Michonne, "Michonne?"

"Yeah?" She answers breathlessly.

"3000 Flowers Rd. We'll be there in fifteen minutes, you can follow us." Michonne nods quickly before rushing toward Rick's side, "Just give me fifteen minutes and I'll explain everything, okay? Please Rick. It's almost over. I promise you. It's almost over."

He grabs onto Michonne's hand, almost having to use her as a crutch to stay standing. He wants nothing more than to rush back toward his son but he something in him knows that Carol will keep him safe. He just has to keep believing that. He's believed in her for seventeen years, what's fifteen more minutes? He nods slowly, dropping his head toward his feet, "Okay." He closes his eyes, continuing to nod, "Okay."

"Thank you. 3000 Flowers Rd."

Carol turns on her heel and moves out into the street, pulling her phone from her pocket. She taps on a number and places it to her ear. It rings once.

"Peletier?"

"Package has been secured. Female priority secured, and female suspect is in custody. We're moving toward central booking now. I have the father and his girlfriend in tow."

"Excellent job." The voice exhales.

"I need an arrest warrant for Eugene Porter."

"Done. I'll meet you at booking in fifteen."

"Thank you, Sir."

"My daughter!" Lori screams, fighting violently against the agent as he moves her toward the black SUV, "Get your fucking hands off of me, you fucking son of a bitch! Let go of me!"

"Isabelle Vineyard aka Lori Grimes?" Agent Tiller asks, quirking his eyebrow toward the sky, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Go fuck yourself, you smug prick. Where are you taking her!"

He smiles wider, "You're under arrest for the kidnapping of Carl Grimes."

"Yeah?" She laughs breathlessly, "Tell me something I don't know. Answer me. My daughter."

"She's in good hands. No thanks to you." He quips, opening the back door to the second large SUV, "Get her in."

The second agent pushes her into the backseat, slamming the door behind her with a thud. Lori slams her head against the headrest and closes her eyes, whimpering softly as her eyes cloud with tears. She stares up at the ceiling of the car, tears slipping down her cheeks. She wishes these tears were out of sadness, but they're not. It's relief. It's almost happiness. It's over. It's finally over. She couldn't be happier honestly. She slinks her body toward the opposite door, resting her weight against it as she places her forehead on the window. Tiller gets into the drivers' seat, slamming the door with a force that shakes the car. Within moments, they're moving, Lori's body shaking slightly as the tires grind against the gravel and pavement. She stares up at the stars and blinks slowly, her once racing mind finally still.

"My daughter."

He sighs loudly, "She's in the car ahead of us. She'll be fine."

"My son? Do you, do you have my son yet?" She asks slowly, her voice low and sullen. Her eyes plastered on the stars.

Tiller glances up into the rearview mirror, watching the small woman as she stares out the window, "Not yet. They're moving in on him now."

She closes her eyes, letting out a breath as hot tears roll down her face, "Please don't hurt him. This isn't his fault." She cries.

Tiller places his eyes back on the road before him, following the break lights of the vehicle in front of him, "I know it isn't. It's yours."

She nods slowly, opening her eyes after a while, "Do you have children? Agent?"

"I do."

"Don't take your eyes off of them." She says sadly, "You'll blink and before you know it, they're grown. The sad part is, only then, will you realize how much you've ruined them."

"Where's your husband?" Tiller asks gruffly, changing the subject, not wanting to hear parenting advice from a criminal.

Lori sniffles, moving her eyes from the dark sky to her lap, "Northside Tavern."

Shane lifts the cold bottle to his lips, letting it linger there for a moment before he takes a swig of the golden liquid. Lori's words swirl through his brain as he wipes at his lips with the arm of his jacket, his eyes zeroed in on the bottles of alcohol behind the bar. He's looking at the decorative bottles, but he doesn't really see them. This is a feeling that Shane has become accustomed with. Being in a room, but not being present. Looking at something but not really seeing it. She's right; he knows that, he's known that for years. But, he can't just give up. He can't just not fight for what's his…

He scoffs loudly at himself. What's his, he's got a lot of fucking nerve. Everything he has, Lori, those kids, this life, it ain't his. He stole it. He ain't no better than them two-bit criminals that he swore he'd protect his community against. What's that saying? You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. Shane never saw himself as a hero, so what does that say? Was this fate always written in the stars for him? Was he the villain all along, pretending to be some kind of hero, a savior? He's not so sure. He takes another drink before clicking his tongue against his teeth. He sits the bottle down on the wooden bar and spins it slowly, his eyes following the drops of condensation that spider down the side.

You're lying to yourself. You've always been the villain in this story. You know that. She knew that. Rick was always the knight in shining armor. Sweet, innocent, quiet Rick. That mother fucker always got everything he ever wanted and you've always hated him. Don't kid yourself. Shane rubs at his face roughly, resting his elbows against the bar as he holds his head in his hands. That's not true. He loved Rick, even now. Even after all this time and everything he's done to that man. He loves him. He was the best part of Shane. He always looked out for him, made sure he didn't get into too much trouble. Rick was always pulling him back onto the right side of the road when Shane was veering too far off course. They were friends, that's what friends do for each other. But Shane can't deny it, underneath the friendship, the laughs, there was a nasty jealously brewing. Especially as they got older and people started noticing the differences. Rick is so smart. He is so kind, so funny. That Grimes boy, he is going places. He has a bright future ahead of him. You're friends with Rick Grimes, right? God, you're lucky to know him. He hated it after a while. Everybody always asking about Rick. Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick. It was just like his daddy said, one day, everybody will see that Shane Walsh ain't no good. That day finally came.

When Rick revealed his darkness to him, his predilection for tying girls up, Shane thought he'd hit the jackpot. No girl was going to want to be within ten miles of him. He'll try that shit and be ousted, and then the whole community will see how wrong they were about that Grimes boy. He's just a freak. A pervert. He ain't no different than Shane. He's not so good after all. But, as usual, everything just went Rick's way. The girls loved Rick's darkness, his predilection. Sheila Crossgrove was his very first experiment. She was as good a girl could get; never swore, always sat with her legs crossed, went to church three times a week, even taught Sunday school classes for the children. She and Rick were just thirteen when he tied her hands behind her back for the first time and wrapped his hands around her throat. He didn't fuck her, he just touched her, lightly, his deft fingers skimming along her dainty, pale skin, circling her budding breasts, teasing her unblossomed flower as he pulled her hair. Shane knew, he just knew that she'd blow the whistle on him. Then, everyone would see, but he had underestimated the seedy undertones of a small town and a girl on the cusp of womanhood. Sheila Crossgrove had gotten a taste of the unholy; and she was hooked. She said nothing, to no one, she just had this look in her eye. She was no longer a girl. She was property of Rick Grimes.

Nobody said a word, not even to each other, as Rick made his way through almost their entire class of female counterparts. Rick was smart, he knew who to stay away from and who would keep his dirty little secrets. They loved it. It was like, they were in this secret club or something. Sure, they whispered, they had small, hushed conversations over lunch, but they never shared just how far Rick had taken them. They wouldn't tell on him for all the money or gold in the world. They just stood in line and waited for their turn, like good little girls. Then, he came upon sweet little Lori and made her the queen of King County. They are such a great couple. Look how good they look together. How sweet! It was all horseshit. He was a fucking weirdo, but nobody wanted to see it that way. He just got weirder with her, pushing them both deeper and deeper into his perversions. They got married right after high school, Rick put her through college while he slaved away on construction sites. They had Carl, everything was picture perfect. Until, Shane got a whiff that it wasn't.

Rick suddenly wasn't Mr. Perfect anymore. Shane couldn't have been happier. The devil in him wanted to knock Rick right off his pedestal, so when he had the chance, when Lori looked him in his eye that Saturday afternoon, practically begging him to have her, he took it. He took that little slice of hatred for Rick Grimes and ate it up. Every crumb of it, and then sopped it up with one of his mama's biscuits. He took Rick's wife, both of his children, almost every earthly possession, his money, his dignity, his pride. He had destroyed the perfect little bubble that was Rick Grimes. He had won. Or, so he'd thought. Here he is, seventeen years later, sitting in a bar all alone, wishing he could take it all back. He didn't hate Rick. He hated himself. Rick was free. Rick quickly found his role in life and embraced it. Rick found himself and made peace with the parts of him that maybe he didn't like so much. Shane never found Shane. He just put on a mask and lived someone else's life. How fucking sad.

Carol steps into the bar quietly, her eyes shifting around from person to person, taking count. It's a hole in the wall, only old Cowboys come here to drink away their sorrows and reminisce about a simpler time. Shane is the youngest one here. She spots him quickly at the end of the bar and reaches for her weapon, pulling it smoothly from its holster. She takes a step further into the hushed bar and flips open her badge, announcing herself loudly, "Carol Peletier, FBI. I need everybody out. Now."

She keeps her eyes square on the olive skinned, shaved head of Shane Walsh as everyone takes heed to her warning. She waits until the bar is clear before she puts her badge away and centers the sights of her government issued gun on her target, "Shane Walsh?"

He takes another slow swig of his beer, never taking his eyes off the bottle, "Yeah?" He knows his time is up. There's no use in fighting.

"You know," She starts slowly, taking a few steps toward him, "I've been staring at your picture for seventeen years. I thought you'd be bigger."

He laughs lowly, dropping his head, "I hear that a lot." It grows silent between the two of them, before he pipes up once more, "Do you have them?"

"Who?"

"Carl, Judy. That's why you're here, right?" He finally turns to look at her, "You have them?"

She nods slowly, "I do. Your wife too."

"It's over?"

"It's over."

Shane turns back toward the bar and finishes off his beer. He sets the now empty glass bottle on the small square napkin, knowing that this'll be the last time he'll be able to enjoy the devil's nectar for the foreseeable future. He stands slowly, lifting his hands so that she can see them, and moves away from the bar. He moves, slowly, trying to put her at ease, toward the door, feeling her eyes and gun on him as he passes by, and stops, "Lead the way, Agent."

She puts her gun to his back and pushes him out the door. She walks him to a black SUV and opens the door for him. He stops just as he's about to get in, lowering his hands to his lower back and crossing his wrists, "We don't need those, do we?" Carol asks, tilting her head slightly as she eyes him.

He shrugs, staring straight ahead as a gust of wind whips around the pair, "I'm no better than anybody else." He says lowly.

She purses her lips and blinks slowly but obliges his request. She slaps the metal cuffs around his wrists, tightening them to comfort and helps his inside the vehicle. She slams the door behind him and walks to the drivers' side, taking just a second to glance up at the starry sky. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a split second, just for herself, before she climbs behind the steering wheel.

It's over.