@wrathfulmercy said:
Another sleepless night. Another time where Rick laid restless in the sheets without being able to forget the chaos that was thriving outside of these walls. How many times would they have to save people again and convince them it was for their own good? How many times would he have blood on his hands again just to feel needed, just to feel like he was able to do something in this world? He was just one man and his own deficiency always became clearest when he was laying in this bed. Doing nothing. Resting. How should that work with the world outside dying with every second more?
There had been many nights like this where he sneaked out only armed with his axe, the colt safely on his belt but not planned on being used. It was just him outside in the woods, just him and a few walkers who should distract him from the pounding of his heart. Sometimes it helped to have a outburst like this, to let his adrenaline flow to feel alive and remind himself he was human too. A human who was allowed to rest. But that point wasn’t reached yet.
The lack of fear Rick developed over the years should probably worry him since the walkers had never really lost their intimidating appearance especially in a group, but a part of him felt still dead after all he had seen and been through. A part of him died long ago and didn’t need to be scared anymore of anything. The only thing scaring him now, was failing his family. That he wouldn’t save enough people. That he would be the true reason for the fall of the world. And then he heard a voice.
His thoughts got interrupted and his head turnt into the noises direction, the axe still buried in the chest of the zombie in front of him which he now just kicked off with a frown to land his next strike in its head. His feet started running. Running through wet ground, through grass and around trees. The shadow of a woman appeared, a woman that must have stumbled over one of the big roots that were common to him who knew this forest like his own home, but to strangers it could be easily confusing and while they tried to find the right way, they could lose the overview of where they were walking. Just like her apparently.
A short look to the walker approaching her made it easy to realize that he wouldn’t be fast enough with his axe, but luckily shooting was something he could nearly do with closed eyes and worked like an automatism leading his hand, so Rick just pointed his gun at its head and shot in the darkness, even if all the blood was splattering over the back of the woman where the corpse collapsed on. It was tricky to shoot in such a silence, but this was about a life of someone innocent, even if that word probably lost its meaning over the years.
Without a word he now ran to her to roll the dead body away, the axe hitting the end of the root to free her foot from the sudden trap. “Come here.” Rick said and offered his arm to help her up, the gun sliding back to his belt before he looked around to check it other roamers were approaching, but for now it stayed silent. Maybe they both were cleaning up this area well enough before, in case she would share his weird night activity whenever he couldn’t sleep.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to introduce myself. Rick, Rick Grimes. What are you doing out here? Did you lose track of your group?”
His eyes now fell on her feet again, trying to figure out if she could still walk or was just faking it well to get away from him. “You need some help with this? Now that I ruined your jacket I could at least offer you a look at your injury, we have a doctor at home.” Weird how fast he already was growing fond of Alexandria, wasn’t it? “But well, I understand if you just rather want to go to your people.” he added with a wave of his hand, even if he didn’t know if there really was a group she belonged to, but it wouldn’t hurt to know, would it?
=======================
The small piece of paper in her hand is terribly crinkled, the ink smeared by the sweat of her palm; the instructions detailing how to reach Alexandria now barely legible. It wasn’t Adelia’s intention to reach the community in the dead of night, but a large herd of walkers forced her to take a lengthy detour, adding several hours to her journey. Pausing beside a large tree, Adelia crouches to bury the small note before plunging her fingers deep into the earth, forcing dirt under her fingernails before smearing some of the mud into her hair and down her jeans which are already visibly spattered with dried blood. She needs to look the part; to seem and smell like she has been out here for some time, wandering - abandoned and lost. Her heart has been beating harder with every step, each footfall taking her closer to her destination; to them. This is dangerous, she knows that, knows too that was probably why Negan was so hesitant to send her. She’s no soldier and that’s precisely what makes her the perfect spy; the beauty she’s been blessed with tends to encourage men to lower their guard, cultivating pity and mercy in equal measure and she will use it to her advantage, whenever necessary. The people of Alexandria, however civil they may seem, murdered her friends while they slept soundly in their beds at the satellite station and that is what she clings to now; what keeps her walking towards their compound, no matter how deadly the risk may be; vengeance, for her friends, for the Saviors and most of all, for Negan.
She freezes mid-step as she hears it; the sound of someone running; of leaves crunching hastily under heavy boots. Glancing down, she kicks at a nearby tree root, deliberately lodging her boot into place, as if stuck. She can sense a walker shuffling somewhere behind her, but chooses to allow it to linger, only to add to her feigned helplessness.
The shot that rings out in the dark is deafening and as the walker falls on top of her, she barely flinches as its blood drips down her cheek and instead simply stares through the thick black night towards the man who thinks he just saved her life. With the offer of help, she moves to brace herself closely against him as she rises to stand and he works to release her foot. The name he gives is enough to cause her stomach to violently lurch; she knows that name; spoken by her people as if Lucifer himself. He is the one responsible for all of this, for this uprising - Rick Grimes. She has a backstory, a lie Negan instructed her tell…a sad story of a dead son and a murdered husband…but as Adelia opens her mouth to speak, she finds she can’t suppress her growing sense of outrage and need to take revenge – she’s not a solider and she’s a pretty poor spy too by the looks of things. His show of kindness is unexpected and instantly mistrusted; is he trying to lull her into a false sense of security? Reaching for him, she pretends to limp and seeks his assistance to steady herself, though as soon as she has a good grip of him, her blade instantly finds his throat.
“Don’t move.” She warns as lithe fingers shift to his belt to liberate him of his gun. She knows it’s loaded; she can feel the weight of it. When she was just a little girl her father used to allow her to load his colt with bullets at the gun range; her first introduction to a gun, before she was old enough for him to teach her to shoot, a pastime her mother always thought was entirely unladylike. A cruel irony really, considering she had been forced to use that same unladylike skill to put her mother down when her corpse had risen up seeking Adelia’s throat.
Carefully Adelia withdraws her knife, immediately sheathing it as she clicks off the safety and holds Grimes at gunpoint. It infuriates her that her hands are shaking – Adelia has killed countless walkers, but the rare truth is that she’s never killed another person and the difference and resulting sense of guilt is not something she was entirely prepared for, though she has to keep in mind that Grimes still has his axe. “You killed them...” She splutters, aiming for the space between his eyes and feeling a few hot tears spill down her flushed cheeks, which she wipes away with obvious annoyance. She doesn’t want to appear weak, but in truth, she’s not sure she can do it, even recalling her friends’ faces doesn’t help - this feels wrong; to put a man down like a dog in the dirt, a man who offered her his help. “…all of them, in their beds while they slept…you...your people...
“...get…get on your knees.”
