Jun 18
i think i might finally be ready to post a walker fic for ...the first time in forever. XD
seen from China
seen from India
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Colombia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Uruguay
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
i think i might finally be ready to post a walker fic for ...the first time in forever. XD
so many cute winter/christmas themed prompt events and so many ships i'm obsessed with right now. someone make me write them. XD
Your Protector's Coming Home
Prelude
Chapter One: What you gonna do when the flames go up/Who is gonna come and turn the tide?
Summary:
Rick, trapped in Atlanta with some new allies, must figure out a way of escaping the situation he finds himself in. The situation is complicated by the reality of the walker herd waiting just in the wings.
TW/CW:
Sexism, universe relevant treatment of Omegas, serious discussions of gore, bodily harm and wounding. Allusions to SA.
Wordcount: 5,958
Taglist: @rmelster, @malkaleh, @bucket-3000, @saathiray, @rovinglemon, @haat-osee, @ravpocalypse, @swagflowermoon, @heathermason6060 @dreadbirate @lightofthemoonglow @goatloafsart, @ethelic, @lordbettany (please let me know if you'd like to be tagged).
Note: Thank you to everyone for their warm responses on the first chapter. Needless to say I believe I've fully broken my writers block with this fic. Man, I missed this so much. Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter!
Atlanta, three weeks later.
Cecily-Anne had seen the horse fall, seen the deputy topple from its back.
“I can go out there.” She pleaded, glancing at the group assembled with her as Glenn peered out the slatted blinds. “They won’t scent me.”
“All the more reason for you to stay here.” Jacqui and Andrea chorused, with Morales muttering his own assent.
“You go out there, we’re defenseless. Besides.” Glenn ran a hand down his face, cringing as they watched the deputy - Rick, Cecily recognized - squirm his way under the tank’s belly. Their vantage point in the department store meant they couldn’t see him once he was under the tank entirely.
Sweat beaded along Glenn’s collar and he wiped it away, tense as a poised cat. T-Dog and Morales had turned to scavenging more supplies, and reorganizing the bags. Cecily noticed the tins of food, boxes of shelf-stable crackers, batteries, flashlights, and other odds and ends, then glanced back at Glenn.
“Besides?”
“Hold on-” Glenn grasped her arm as Cecily moved to look around his elbow. Rick’s head had popped out the top of the tank, and she watched his eyes widen at the realization of the bag of guns lying unmanned in the middle of the street. The walkers were distracted by the horse lying aside on the ground, still in the last jerks of life. But Cecily only had eyes for Rick. She noted him looking up, head on a swivel, and then watched the cover slam over him against the oncoming horde.
A few minutes passed, and then the dull report of a bullet filled the air.
Rick? N-no, please, no! Cecily felt her hands crawling towards her hair and she flinched as Merle Dixon’s lurid sneer split the air.
“She’s clawin’ at her hair again!” He hooted. Cecily’s head whipped around, and she hissed, baring her needle-sharp fighting fangs. “Shut the fuck up! For all you know, he could be dead!”
“Look at this bitch, she’s got one hell of a filthy mouth on her!”
“Do we have to fight?” Glenn begged, leaning forward until his face was pressed hard up against the glass. Cecily let out another low, feral hiss, and turned back to regard the street. Glenn clicked the radio, hoping the waves would pick up with whatever machine was in the tank.
“Hey, you alive in there?” He tried, hoping this time something would pick up.
The radio crackled, and then Rick’s voice, ragged with stress and exhaustion came through.
“Hello?”
Cecily nearly leapt three feet in the air, and leaned forward, knowing not to say anything so as to prevent any further confusion on Rick’s part.
“Where are you? Outside? Can you see me right now? Any advice?”
“I can, you’re surrounded by walkers and that's the bad news.”
“And any good news?”
“You can get out. The geeks have mostly joined the feeding frenzy on the fallen horse, but if you run now, the street on the other side of the tank is less crowded. If you go now, you’ve got a shot. Any ammo?”
Inside the tank, Rick ran a hand through his curls, then clicked the receiver again.
“Bag outside, there’s ammo, guns… Could that work?”
“Forget the bag, there’s no time. Anything on you?”
Rick slid open the clip of the pistol, grimaced, then picked up the receiver.
“I’ve got a beretta with one clip - 15 rounds give or take.”
Glenn nodded, then looked at Cecily peering up over his shoulder.
“Make them count. Jump off the right side of the tank. Keep going in that direction. There’s an alley about 50 yards, be there.”
Rick nodded, switching the radio off. He gripped the butt of the beretta in his hand, then pushed the lid of the tank open. Just as his head popped out, the geek on the tank crawled forward. Its face exploded in a spray of gore and Rick rolled off the tank, and down to street level, then ran, shooting blindly.
“He’s a fucking idiot!” Andrea yelled, pulling at her hair as Glenn dashed off to go intercept the lone deputy. Cecily, left cradling the handheld, glared up at the blonde haired woman.
“Three weeks ago he was dead. I expect you to adjust your tone accordingly.” She said bluntly, her voice cold.
“What?” Andrea’s hands fell away from her hair, and even Merle stilled dead. The pop of bullets filled the air as Rick’s form grew smaller and smaller, then finally veered right until no one pressed up against the window could see him anymore.
“He died. I was his attending surgeon.”
“I thought you were at Grady.” Jacqui piped up.
“I was. I also volunteered part time in the local hospital. He’d been taken there after a convict who’d escaped the local prison shot him.” Cecily paused, then pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “I’ve spoken too much.” She looked sharply to her right, then up. “They’re on the roof. Nothing’s pursued them, but somethin’s tryin’. Let’s go.”
Down several access staircases their group went, until they emerged into a little room just off from the department store’s loading dock. The groans of walkers filled the air and Morales and T-Dog went for the baseball bats they’d pilfered. Through the little square window, Cecily could see Glenn descending the steps, and then Cecily caught sight of those familiar brown slacks with the gold stripe.
Rick. Thank christ.
“C’mon!” Glenn yelled, practically dragging Rick across the alley. The door popped open and the walker mere inches from Rick’s face spun away as T-Dog rammed the baseball bat into its head. In a matter of seconds, Rick was through the door and everyone was back inside.
“This fucker just made us all dead men!” Andrea spat, levelling her pistol. She grabbed Rick by the collar, and yanked him towards her so that the butt of her pistol dug into his temple. Jacqui let out a muffled shriek, while Morales and T-Dog exchanged wide-eyed glances.
“Andrea!” Cecily growled.
“Thanks to all those clever bullets he fired, now we’re sitting ducks! Fat lot of luck your patient here did-”
“Cecily?” Rick breathed, his eyes widening as he glanced around feverishly. His eyes found her standing against the stairwell railing, a machete in her hands. She’d kept her glasses, thank god, and was looking at Andrea like killing her wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
“You know her?” Jacqui breathed, and then looked between the two of them. She ran a hand through her hair and then stopped dead.
“He’s your husband?”
“But of course. What’d you think I meant when I said I had a deputy for a husband?”
“Not him!” Andrea snapped.
“Killing him puts us down one good man. Besides, he has guns. Which I know we need. I suggest you drop the gun, Andrea, and let Rick breathe a moment. He’s disorientated and completely overwhelmed.” Cecily lowered her voice, sheathing her rapier to show she wasn’t going to kill Andrea.
“Fine.” Andrea pulled the gun back from Rick’s temple and shoved him towards Cecily. “He’s all yours.”
“Thanks.”
Now that he was free of the possibility of instant, sudden death, Rick looked around him and his gaze locked hard in on Cecily. He blinked, then blinked again. All of the past two days had completely overwhelmed him. From the desire to figure out what the hell had happened, the lack of Shane, the craziness of the world, then Morgan and Duane who’d tried to help? The fact that the world had become so fucking insane? He hadn’t even dared to think of Cecily, all alone at Grady, now that he knew what Atlanta looked like.
“Cecily?”
“Hi, Ponyboy.” She smiled weakly, and gave a yelp of delight and surprise as Rick scooped her off the ground and held her tight in his arms, his hand immediately going to stroke her hair. She looped her arms around his neck and grinned, then blushed.
“Hi.”
“Hi to you too, darlin’.” He nuzzled her nose, then they both blushed again. “Missed you.”
“You think?” Cecily sniffled, still grinning. She turned her head to regard the group who were mostly getting on with things, and then her face grew serious. “Your gunshots did bring quite a mob of walkers.” She tilted her head, looking up at the ceiling.
“If she’s sure…” Morales muttered worriedly. “Then you’re right.” He cut his gaze to Andrea, who snorted. “Course I’m sure.”
Rick dropped Cecily back to the ground after she assented and squinted up at the ceiling.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“You will soon. Come on.” Glenn shepherded everyone up the access stairs into the main floor of the department store. The darkness was a welcome relief for Cecily and a bewildering confusion for Rick, who clung to Cecily’s hand as she wove and dodged through stacks of items, pausing to examine a pair of jeans and shoes.
“Not for me.” She clarified, thinking on her feet. “We’re low on clothes.”
The low groans of walkers filled the air as they came upon the jewelry department and main entrance, and the group stopped dead.
“There’s more of them.” Morales muttered. Jacqui confirmed everyone’s fears with her shaking hand pointed to the spider-webbing cracks of the first set of double doors. Cecily, still gripping Rick’s hand, cocked her head to one side, like a doe listening for predators. “They ain’t moving much. Just kind of standing there.”
Her vocal dissonance and shift made Rick blink, but before he could think to question her on all of the shit going on, the rattle of bullets filled the air.
“Merle!” Glen groaned, and hit the stairwell for the roof at a run.
“Merle?” Rick questioned as Cecily pulled him along.
“White trash racist. Utterly deplorable. Suppose we keep him for the brothers hunting skills. Otherwise, he just likes causing problems.” Cecily sighed.
“Great.”
The two of them emerged out onto the roof just in time to see T-Dog be felled by Merle’s fist, spat on, and called a slew of insults that made the hairs on Cecily’s neck stand straight as Rick watched her go not for the rapier, but the pistol at her waist.
“Oi!”
“Cecily, what’re-” Rick jumped back as Merle slugged her hard across the face and sent Cecily flying. The pistol - safety still on thankfully - clattered to the ground beside her and Cecily lifted her head, her nose bleeding. She growled, baring her teeth. But the smack had hit and she cried out as Merle kicked her hard in the stomach.
“Stupid bitch.” Merle spat, the sticky wad landing on her cheek. “All of you, y’all are idiots. Take the pipsqueak you said, eh, Glenn. Useful for wardin off those corpses. First chance of danger, she freaks out! She’s a waste, and look!” Merle gestured to Rick standing protectively over Cecily, his pistol raised.
“She’s fucking a pig-” His tirade was silenced as Rick struck Merle’s temple with the butt of his python, and dragged the man, bleeding and screaming across the roof. “Mind your fucking tongue, you son of a bitch.” His voice wasn’t raised in anger, but instead stone cold. “There’s none of that here. Just us, the living, and the dead.” His hand reached to his waist and he slapped the cuffs hard around Merle’s arm, locking the other to the pole that stretched up into an air duct.
“You just sit tight for a moment. I ain’t done with you.” Rick growled, turning his head to look at Merle over his shoulder. There was a firmness to his voice that made everyone, even unconsciously, note the tension radiating from Rick’s skin. Cecily, helped to her feet by Jacqui and Andrea, limped over to the edge of the roof where Morales and Glenn had binoculars trained on the street.
“Where you from, by the way? You’re not Atlanta PD.” Morales finally took in Rick’s tan uniform as Rick rested his hand on the concrete wall. He flexed his fingers, and looked at Morales in stone-faced resignation.
“Up the road a ways.” He replied vaguely, not wanting to trust the same people that had let in a man capable of calling a perfectly respectable man the most vulgar slur on the planet, and also willingly kick a defenseless girl.
“Well Officer friendly from up the road a ways, this is Atlanta.”
“How long you’ve been trapped up here?”
“All day.” Andrea replied. “We were planning to head out when you showed up.” She sighed, resting her fist against her forehead. “Now we can’t go out the doors without being swarmed.”
“How’d you get in without bein’ swarmed?”
“Your wife’s somehow a deterrent. No idea how, but she apparently walked out of Atlanta without a scratch.”
Of course. Rick’s gaze swung back to Cecily, who was mindlessly rotating the cylinder of her revolver without any intention of closing the chamber. She had her gaze locked out on the far horizon, but anyone with eyes could see the minor twitches of her muscles. Judging by the pallor of her skin, she hadn’t fed in days.
“Excuse us.” Rick gently guided Cecily with a touch of his arm back into the stairwell leading down to the department store. He slammed the door shut and pressed his back to the railing of the stairs.
“You haven’t fed, an’ they’re usin’ you as bait.”
“Transactional relationship.” Cecily replied flatly, flicking on her torch to give herself a pool of light for her eye to follow as she spoke. “They needed someone to get them in and out of Atlanta for supplies to fuel the camp, and I needed the exercise.”
“Exercise. They know you’se a surgeon?”
“That bit of relevant information hasn’t been needed, yet. However given their poor sanitary practices, I suspect ringworm in the future. Jacqui and I have been working on plans to discuss with the men-folk on what to do.”
“And the fact everyone thinks you’re my wife?” Rick gave her one of those no-nonsense glances that always made her focus up.
“I suppose I owe you an explanation about the ring.”
“Sure.” Rick crossed his arms, and then froze. The ring on her ring finger wasn’t any old band that she’d gotten from some cheap department store counter. It was a gold band with ivy motifs laced around the border, and as Rick knew, a shard of his antlers set into the framing. After Lori and he’d divorced, she’d given the ring back to him.
“How’d you get that?”
Cecily crossed her arms, and then pressed her knuckles to her lips.
“Shane.” She finally breathed. “He and Dolores and Calpurnia rode into Atlanta in the middle of the blockade to get me out.”
“The National guard couldn’t control the dead?”
“Course not.” Cecily replied deadpan. “Since when can you expect the military to do shit at protecting us?”
“I’ve been in a coma…” He offered, and then noticed Cecily’s eyes welling with tears.
“What’s the matter?” His voice softened and he reached to cup her cheek, which made her press her cheek into his palm.
“Nothing.” She thumbed at her lashes and then sniffled. “I’m just really, really glad you’re back.”
She’s not tellin me somethin’, but it’s fine. We can discuss it later when we’re out of this hellhole.
“I’m glad you’re here too. Very, very glad.” He kissed her forehead and dropped his nose to nuzzle the strands of hair frizzled by the humidity.
The sound of someone banging on the door rang through the room and Rick pushed it open, reaching to shield Cecily’s sensitive eyes. Glenn stood there, panting a little. He opened his mouth, looked from Cecily to Rick, and spoke:
“I’ve got a way for us to get out of here.” ______________________________________________________________
The entire group - minus Merle - stood staring down at the access shaft to the sewer system. As Jacqui had rightly mentioned about a building of this age, there was an access tunnel. Now, as they stared down at it, Glenn spoke up again.
“I really scoped this place out when I’d come here before. It’s the only point that leads down.”
He paused, looking sickly.
“But I’ve never gone down it. After all, who’d want to?” He shrugged, then stilled as several pairs of eyes locked on him at once.
“Oh. Great.” Glenn looked away.
“We’ll be right behind you,” Andrea offered, her angry tone now softened in the face of the possibility of a permanent escape.
“No you won’t! Not you.”
Andrea’s eyes flashed. “Why? You think I can’t?”
Glenn stuttered for a moment, startled by Andrea’s sudden ferocity.
“Speak your mind.” Rick murmured, sizing the man up, a part of him knowing that Glenn was smarter and more mature than he looked. If he got them out of this place, back to whatever camp, he’d make a good scout or line-buck. Perfect for reconnaissance. Besides, the court was so small, Rick had no qualms about including non-shifters into the hierarchy.
“It’s always been me. In and out. First time I bring a group, it all goes to hell.” Again, he paused, swallowing back the embarrassment of such a brutal and blunt statement.
“Well, he’s not wrong.” Cecily murmured by Rick’s elbow, then shut her mouth, blushing in sympathy with Glenn.
“Sure, but that’s not the point.” Rick turned his gaze back to Glenn.
“If you want me to go down this gnarly hole, then fine.” He looked back at Rick and the group. “But we’re doing it my way.”
“It’s tight down there, and I don’t want you getting all jammed down there with me. I’ll take one of you.”
Rick moved forward and Glenn stopped him.
“Not you. Or your wife. Sorry, but you’re both our best shots and Cecily’s needed for support if we have to actually make a run for it. Andrea, you go with Rick and guard the store’s front. Jacqui, you stay up here so if anything happens you yell and we run. Morales, with me.”
Rick gently patted Glenn’s shoulder as he muttered to the younger man and for the group at large:
“Okay, everybody knows their jobs.”
Glenn gave a nervous nod, clenched the flashlight between his teeth, and with Morales on his heels, descended down into the depths until all that remained was a single, bobbing glow of light in the inky blackness. It quickly swallowed them.
“C’mon.” Rick gently took Cecily’s hand and moved them back up the stairs to the main level and doors of the department store. “You and I are on guard duty.”
“Yay.” Cecily deadpanned, sighing as she went to examine her pistol. She flipped it open, and grimaced up at him. “They don’t let me carry bullets.”
Why the hell not? Rick thought, a flash of rage moving through him as he saw Andrea take up position near the jewelry counter. He leaned in close so that Cecily’s crown was under his chin. “And why’s that, darlin?” He kept one eye on the crowd of geeks banging on the door, the other shifting to his belt for his speedloader. His free hand stroked her elbow, knowing the jerks and twitches of the walkers were no doubt causing her anxiety.
“Cause I’m an omega, and most of our group’s men who ain’t Shane.” Cecily replied, knowing Rick would piece it together respectively.
“Ah. And who’s the lead alpha, hmm?”
“Merle, his brother Daryl, and also Ed. You’ll meet them, if we get out.”
Rick reached for her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers. “Hey.” He tipped her chin up, and those blue eyes that had first caught her gaze on a rural road outside King County, when she’d been smeared in oil and engine grease, found her gaze again. He was one of the few people she could make eye contact with who didn’t make her want to shrivel up and crawl into a hole.
“We’re gettin’ out of here, no if about it. You are all I care about.” He murmured, noting Andrea still being in earshot. “These others, they let you be punched around by Merle and spat on. They ain’t got no idea what a real alpha is, yeah?”
“Certainly.” Cecily glanced over her shoulder at Andrea, who had sidled closer. Cecily curled her lip in a snarl.
“I just wanted to say sorry for putting a gun to your head.” She offered, looking past Cecily to Rick. He gave her a firm nod. “Apology accepted.”
“It still did end us up here, so I’ll hold you to us getting out.” she added. Cecily glared at the taller woman, a low hiss breaking from between her clenched teeth. “He don’t offer those apologetic acceptances easily, Andrea.”
“Still. I’m right.” Andrea tilted her head as she glanced at a necklace stand and fingered the pendant - a mermaid. “Is taking a necklace for your sister looting?” She asked Rick, who glanced down at Cecily.
“In this day and age, a lot of what we thought was right, it’s gone out the window. Don’t think anyone will want it back.” Rick replied, stroking Cecily’s temple with his thumb as she radiated with rage. Not over Andrea taking the necklace, or even her comment to Rick, but all of her emotions throughout all of today, combined with her evident lack of blood, and the constant grating of the walkers.
Speaking of the walkers, the crack of glass reached their ears and the first set of doors buckled inwards as the horde surged inwards, slamming against the second set. One of them had a rock in its hand which tapped against the inner doors. Cracks began spiderwebbing as Rick raised his pistol and Cecily clapped her hands over her ears. The sounds of sneakers slapping against lino grew louder as Morales and Glenn rounded the corner.
“Sewer’s out, crawling with geeks.”
“We need a way out, and soon.” Andrea murmured.
“Let’s reconvene on the roof.” Glenn darted toward the stairs, and the group followed fast in his wake. __________________________________________________________
The building storm in the distance made the air crackle with static, and humidity that made Rick’s hair curl. Cecily’s skin steamed from the pressure cooker feeling of the weather. She whimpered again, and pressed into Rick’s side as he stroked her elbow with his thumb. Her hands were still over her ears.
“The construction site, over there, has trucks and the keys are always on hand. We could get down there, and get out.”
“Not with our deterrent the way she is.” Merle called tactfully.
“Would you shut up?” Jacqui called, anger tingeing her voice.
“He’s right. She’s not going anywhere.” Rick pressed Cecily closer into him, his hand resting over her head as he moved to stroking her temple. “Could we make a distraction? I know you got me out of the tank only cause they were distracted by the felled horse…” Rick looked at Glenn as he spoke, his voice low so as to not startle Cecily further.
“They’re drawn by sound, what else?” Rick kept stroking Cecily’s temple with his thumb, rocking her in his arms to keep her hands from flapping.
“They can smell you, see you, hear you obviously.” Morales offered.
“Wait… Smell?” Rick’s brows furrowed.
“Can’t you? They smell dead, we don’t. It’s pretty distinct.” Andrea explained.
Rick looked down at Cecily and anger filled his face as it clicked. “You’ve been using Cecily here as a deterrent because she smells like them.”
“Yeah, of course. Who’d give up the option to use our best chance at survival to use it to its fullest potential?” Merle sneered. “All these others hemmed and hawed over it, but look at it from the bright side, sheriff. At least her pretty scent and sweet cunt ain’t goin’ to waste getting stunk up by your big knot-”
Rick dropped his grip on Cecily, grabbed his knife from the belt, and in one fell swoop, had Merle’s head tight in his fist and the blade up against his trembling, twitching jugular. His breath barely hissed out of his teeth as he stared at Merle with those deep blue eyes swallowing his pupil.
“Do you have any idea what a real alpha does to a male who harms his omega?” Rick spat, turning Merle’s face so that the bastard was forced to look at him. He pulled back his lips, showing his teeth. The air around his head frizzed at the edges, and then Merle shrieked in horror.
A rack of antlers curved up through Rick’s curls like a laurel wreath, their tines stained red with blood dried and fresh. It dripped down Rick’s face, the red contrasting those blue eyes in a horrific tableau. “I said I wasn’t done with you, and I ain’t.” He hissed, tilting Merle’s head up and back.
There, fluttering flush against the man’s neck was the expected alpha’s scent gland. Unlike omegas who possessed many, all alphas only had one. Rick poised the knife’s tip on the flesh just around Merle’s, and he gave the man a shark-like smile.
“No! Please!” Merle begged.
“You had your chance.” Rick growled, the knife digging flush. Like an oyster shucked from a shell, Rick twisted the knife and popped the gland with a sickening squelch. Blood and fluid leaked from it, staining his fingers. Rick sheathed the knife and rose back to his feet as Merle screamed and thrashed, the blood dribbling down his chest.
“Oh, cut it out.” Andrea snapped. “Be fucking glad he didn’t kill you.”
“He should’ve.” Cecily hissed, glaring over her shoulder at Merle. She hissed, her scent rising with the rage of her shame and embarrassment over being so easily impressed into being the sacrificial lamb for the slaughter. Rick sighed, then kissed her crown, nuzzling again so that her scent was tempered with his. She calmed immediately, curling more forcefully into him.
“What’ve you got in mind?” Cecily asked as Rick rubbed his hands together, and pointed back down the stairwell.
“Follow me.” He gestured, and leaving Merle to his nonsensical screaming and thrashing, the group descended back into the department store. Overhead, the storm began to gather, the thunder rumbling with more dramatic authority. _____________________________________________________________
Rick had gathered several long coverall jackets, rubber gloves, a face shield, and the corpse of one of the dead walkers T-Dog had beamed in with the bat. He snatched up a crowbar, and whacked it against the emergency fire hatch. Glass crackled against the concrete floor as he picked up the axe, and then stopped.
“Hold on.”
He dropped both the crowbar and the axe plus the face shield, and got on his hands and knees, rooting in the corpse’s pockets.
“What’re you doin?” Morales asked, brow raised in curiosity.
Rick didn’t say anything until he pried open the tri-fold brown wallet, scanned it, and then sighed.
“Wayne Dunlap. Georgia License. Born 1979. He had 28 dollars in his pocket when he died.” His hand came out with a photograph. “Ooh, and a pretty girl too.” He chewed his cheek as he flipped it over. “With love from Rachel.”
“She’s probably dead.” Cecily muttered.
Rick didn’t bother to correct her, just gave a silent, solitary nod of acknowledgement.
“He was just like us, worrying about bills, or the rent, or the superbowl.” He paused, seemingly torn on the idea of cutting up what was once a person. Cecily knew the feeling well, how even the most still and solid surgeon could break on the operating room floor after a failed surgery, even before the family were informed. She stepped forward and grabbed Rick’s arm, giving it a gentle, loving squeeze.
“One more thing.” Glenn held out the license. “He was an organ donor.”
Rick and Cecily looked at each other, then nodded. Rick raised the axe, and plunged it harshly into the corpse, ignoring the groans and cries of the group as they were faced with the sight and scents of a rotting corpse.
Just as Rick’s face turned green, Cecily reached for the axe and shield.
“I can handle it. Give it to me.” She gestured for the axe, and dug it into the arms and legs of Wayne, tearing off chunks and bits. Blood covered her body and face as she kept hacking, ignoring the scent of vomit as Glenn expelled his stomach to contrast the stench of death with regurgitated canned fruit made sour with stomach acid.
“Okay, that’s enough. Everyone got gloves on? Don’t let it get in your eyes or mouth or any orifice. Not even your skin.” Cecily ordered, reaching for a big handful of blood and guts. She rubbed it over Rick’s chest, the only one not groaning or cringing from the smell.
“Breathe through your nose.” She instructed the group. “Keeps nausea down.” She added, rubbing the gore in as many places as she could think of. Rick looked paler than usual and she sighed, knowing the stench was probably turning his stomach harder than it looked.
“Think about something else.” Rick called over her shoulder as Glenn murmured increasing sounds of distress. “Puppies and kittens.”
“Dead puppies and kittens.” T-Dog replied grimly as he worked on Glenn.
“Oh god, why?” Glenn groaned.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do we smell like them?” Rick asked.
Affirming murmurs of yes filled the air, but Rick wasn’t pleased until Cecily gave her nod.
“About as close to me as you’ll ever get.” She added, and tore her gaze away from Rick’s pulsing jugular.
Andrea slid her gun into Glenn’s waistband.
“What about Merle?”
“Let him rot.” Rick replied, tossing the key down the drain. He hefted the axe again.
“We need more guts.”
After making short order of the rest of Wayne, Rick and Glenn stumbled toward the door, each wearing the respective former limbs of Wayne’s body. Rick, as a morbid choice, had Wayne’s entire intestinal tract looped around his collar, and Glenn wore Wayne’s feet. Forthcoming vomiting had been forestalled by Cecily shoving smelling salts up their noses.
Cecily watched from the doorway as Rick and Glenn passed through the barred door, and then were a wall’s distance away, pretending at being the dead with which the streets of Atlanta crawled.
Following their crawl under the bus, Rick and Glenn shambled weakly amongst the horde, their faces dead-eyed and lifeless. All Rick was thinking about, admittedly instead of how shitty they smelled or if he was ever going to wash the blood out of his pores, was what he’d done to Merle.
Taking an Alpha’s scent gland like that was well within his rights as an Alpha. Even if Cecily hadn’t been claimed yet, she still appeared to be to the eyes of the group, and wore his wedding ring. His lack of choice in doing anything would’ve meant complicity in allowing Merle to upstage and claim Cecily, thereby forfeiting any honor Rick meant to grasp onto, however frail and formless this all was in the wake of total societal collapse.
His antlers emerging had been a welcome touch. The stag under his skin had been so quiet in the past few days, he worried it was gone. Thankfully, as he and Glenn continued to stumble, he felt it stir under his skin with a low, curious rumble.
Hey, bud. Stay low, big guy. No antlers or nothin’. We gotta keep playin’ dead. He thought to it as the beast nosed the ground and gave a sharp chuff of alarm at the stench of death. Its tail perked up and Rick felt himself pressing a hand to the animal’s snout, scenting his real scent under all the gore and gunk. Easy, easy. Don’t startle. We startle, and we’ll be prey. C’mon. Just keep low. You’re in a thicket, we’re safe.
As they kept walking so utterly, deadeningly slowly, a low rumble filled the air, and the pressure and stickiness of the humidity rose with the roar. Suddenly, a splash hit Cecily’s elbow as she watched through her folding glass, and she looked up at the sky.
“Oh, oh no.”
“It’s just a cloudburst.” Morales called.
“I don’t think that’ll help,” Cecily replied, snapping the glass shut as she noted the horde becoming more alert. Then, all hell broke loose as one lunged for Rick. the axe in his hand swung out, clipping the one closest to him firm in the head. Another few swings, and the horde was beaten back somewhat, but quickly growing more.
“Run!”
The two men broke rank, tearing for the construction site. As Andrea and Morales watched, Rick and Glenn scaled the fence, tearing off the blood-splattered jackets. Rick’s colt broke the air with its cannon-loud shots as Glenn snatched up a pair of keys. Both men dashed for the box truck and slammed the doors as Rick tore off in a cloud of exhaust, diverting away from the department store and towards the outskirts of Atlanta.
“They’re leaving us!” Andrea cried.
Cecily snapped open her spyglass again, watching the truck’s smaller and smaller shape.
“He knows what he’s doing.” She replied calmly, a low, feral smile lighting up her face.
Meanwhile, away from the horde, Rick had pulled the truck to a complete stop, and armed with the crowbar, smashed in the windows of the nearest car available, then jacked it into life. The peal of the siren filled the air.
“Get in, and clear the front of the store, near where the roll-up doors are. I’ll come around in the truck. But it’s gotta be clear, hear me?”
Glenn nodded, wincing from the wail of the siren as he floored the vehicle and tore off in a cloud of smoke. Thumbing the walkie, he called: “Meet us at the roll up doors in front of the store. Be there and ready!”
“You can’t leave me here!” Merle yelled, somehow still conscious even despite all the blood loss as Andrea, Jacqui and the others peeled off with bags. Cecily remained, her hand on her rapier. She didn’t reach to cut the cuffs or do anything of the sort. Instead, she grabbed the rapier, blade down, and plunged it straight into Merle’s groin.
“That’s what you get for being such a sick fucker.” She called over her shoulder as she holstered the blade and tore off, taking the steps as fast as she could, which given the amount and her propensity to go down them one at a time, was slow paced. But effective, thankfully. As she tore after the rest of the group, satchel banging, the inner doors of the department shattered, and the horde that had taken this long to get through, finally plunged in. Cecily tore down the side steps, slamming the door shut in her wake.
“What took you so long?!” Andrea yelled as the rolling door thudded with Rick’s fist.
“Had to take care of something!” She yelled back as Morales and Jacqui pulled up the rolling door and Rick hauled them in. Cecily yelped as one of the walkers came lurching for her foot, but a well timed kick sent it crumbling backwards. The pressure thus relieved, she tumbled into the truck and was swept into the passenger seat as Rick leapt into the drivers, gunned the engine, and roared off.
As they made their way out of Atlanta, the peal of Glenn’s car split the air.
“Who’s that?!” Andrea shouted over the din. “Glenn!” Rick and Cecily yelled back.
“And Merle?” T-Dog asked.
“I left him up there.” Cecily called back. “He won’t be goin’ anywhere for a while.”
As both women stared at her, Rick reached for her shaking sword hand, wrapped his fingers in his, and kissed her knuckles.
“Told you I’d get us out.”
End of Chapter 1.
______________________________________________________________
II: But the sight held me fixed like a bayonet against my throat
Part I ****** Summary:
The second time is often worst than the first. When an unlucky shot puts Carl once more into the depths of the Styx, it is a race against time for the angel of death that is his father. Death for him has been merciful on many an occasion before. It will remain to be seen if it is again.
TW/CWs: Gore, blood, graphic description of loss of an eye, premature pregnancy and extensive NICU stay.
Relationships: Rick Grimes/Lori Grimes, Rick and Carl
Fandom: The Walking Dead (TV)
Song title: Pale Rider by the Oh Hellos
Taglist: @rovinglemon, @bucket-3000, @kn1feprty, @rmelster, @malkaleh, @ravpocalypse
The second time it happened, the groans of the dead and the screams of the living cloaked Rick’s mind. They all but blocked out the sight of his son.
The cloying stench of walker guts and the cries of Jessie and her boys rang in his ears as he glanced down at the hatchet in his hand. Blood speckled the metal surface, ink dark in this moonless night. Ron’s gun smoked as it barked in his hand and Rick glanced at it, hoping the bullet had merely clipped a fence post. He hoped, perhaps stupidly, that it had not found its quarry in the flesh of one of his family.
“Dad?” Carl breathed, his voice pitched low, weak. Distant, as if he was standing in the Styx again.
Rick looked up, and his breath froze in his chest, clogged up his throat like a lead weight. Blood poured from Carl’s left eye, staining his cheeks and the faded flannel shirt he wore. The stetson had a hole in it where the impact of the bullet had driven itself into flesh like a sledgehammer.
“C-carl?” Rick breathed, breaking the human chain between him and his son as Carl fainted, the world darkening behind his single eye. He collapsed to the ground with the grace of the buck with the nickel antlers. For a moment, time seemed to halt though Rick's fingers had not crept to the crown of his watch.
“Son?” The cry was stupid as he said it, but Carl groaned weakly and that was the fire to the kindling inside Rick’s anxious heart. His gaze locked on Michonne and he scooped Carl up in one fell swoop. He could carry him. He always would.
“Get Lori out of the chain. Get her to Doctor Cloyd!” he hissed, pushing past Michonne, back towards Alexandria’s heart. The walkers around them groaned, hissing and stumbling dumbly. Somewhere within those rotted masses of brain, they knew that death strode amongst them. Above their heads, the sky darkened, swallowing up the few stars, and Rick’s fury put new cracks into the cleaned sidewalks of the settlement.
Depending on how tonight went, there might not be sidewalks, or houses or even people, come dawn. For a moment, as Rick ran through the streets amongst the ambling herd, his boot soles rapping against the pavement, he was one of those walking dead.
Keep moving. You’re gonna beat this. You did it twice already. You know what to do. Get your head together, Rick. Get it together for Carl.
His shoulder collided with Doctor Cloyd’s door, causing both man and frame to plunge to the floor. Cloyd stared up at him from her desk for a moment, then lurched forward, her specs refracting the light blazing from the gas lamp in her hand. Its wavering light was like a miniature sun, and Rick caught himself staring up at it as Carl’s blood dripped down his hands.
“H-he’s been shot.” Rick breathed, pushing himself up. Denise surged forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, her fingers curling into the folds of his coat. “Don’t move. I’ve got him-” Her words faltered as Carl flopped back and the bloody hole where his left eye had been glared up at her.
She went whiter than wall paste for a moment, staring back at him. Outside, a faint bell tingle filled the air and Rick jerked up, his head shifting around the jamb. The buck was there. On the front lawn, munching on a piece of grass. The walkers stumbled past it, even though there was fresh blood leaking from its left eye socket.
“W-Where’s Lori?”
“Here!” Lori slammed into the entry hall from the back door, Michonne in her wake. She stepped forward, then noted Carl. Her eyes widened, eyebrows shooting to her hairline. Then, they furrowed, and she snapped a finger at Denise.
“Stop gawping, and get him on a gurney. Michonne! Get back outside. I’ll witness.”
“Witness?” Denise and Michonne echoed. Denise gently laid Carl on a gurney as she looked between Rick and Lori. Both of them were covered in enough blood and guts to bring Carl back time and time and again.
“Lori-” He didn’t have to speak again, for Lori was handing over his sheriff’s stars and easing the stetson from Carl’s fevered brow. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling the salt of tears stinging her cheeks. He groaned weakly again. The faintness of the moment wasn’t lost on her and she dragged Rick over to the gurney, her fingers clawing at his wristwatch.
“Calm down! You know this takes patience! We ain’t losing him.” Rick breathed, easing the worn silver timepiece off his arm. He pinched the crown and snapped it back, running a bloodied thumb over the face as always.
“Don’t forget to wind it.” Lori muttered as Rick looked at her.
“Shit.” He breathed, then did the correct counter spin and laid it beside Carl’s wounded temple. His hand hesitated on the bleeding wound and then he let the blood bead on his fingers. Those bloody fingers pressed into Lori’s, and she ran them across Carl’s furrowed brow.
“Don’t go where we can’t follow, baby boy. You’ve got Judy and mom and me. We’re all waitin’ for you, kiddo.” Rick gripped Carl’s hands in his and pressed his lips to them. “I know its dark and cold down there. I know how loud the river must be, son. But you gotta fight it. I know you’re strong, and I know you’re scared. But we’re here. You’re gonna come back. You’ll pull through this, just as you always do.”
Outside the sounds of walkers screaming and the thunk of bats and blades echoed through the otherwise silent air. Flames wooshed to life, turning the night a blinding orange. It seemed for a moment as if the underworld had come upon his doorstep. Taunting him and Lori and dragging Carl into its endless depths.
“His pulse… it’s dropping…” Denise breathed as she gripped the heart monitor between her hands. She looked at Rick in genuine terror.
“He’s gonna pull through!” Lori hissed. “He’ll pull through because his daddy’s death, and he always DOES!”
Rick lifted Carl’s head only slightly and pressed his forehead to his, stroking Carl’s bare and wounded cheeks with his thumbs.
“You are so smart. So strong, so brave. Don’t go where I can’t follow. You hear me, Carl Grimes? You’ll beat this. You will, I know. Now, come back, son. Come back. Come back.”
It was a prayer, a desperate rope thrown into a dark void that only Carl knew the bottom of. He felt the darkness surge in him. The colt became the scythe and the stars were coins. The shadows on the walls wavered, reaching toward the ceiling as if to escape the humming sound that filled the air.
“Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare die, Carl Jeffrey Grimes. Goddamnit! You can’t die!”
Tears soaked Carl’s cheeks, giving his skin a holy gleam. Rick tucked Carl's head to his chest, not caring at that moment if it aggravated the wound or what. He needed Carl back. He needed him to fight the tide.
The low beep of the heart monitor galloped forward suddenly and Carl twitched, gasping, choking.
“Rick! You’re crushing him!” Denise cried.
“He’s drowning!” Rick snarled, Lori reaching to steady him. She darted forward and pressed a hand to carl’s forehead over Rick’s. Their touches seemed to slow the beeping back to a steady pulse. Carl groaned weakly again and turned his head faintly, nuzzling into Rick and Lori’s entwined arms.
“There you are, baby. It’s okay. You’re back on dry land. Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe. We’re here.” Lori whispered, stroking Carl’s blood-drenched hair. Rick nodded to Denise and stepped back, his hand drifting to interlace Carl’s little fingers with his. The shadows on the walls settled somewhat, sensing Rick was calming.
Denise stepped forward with her equipment and with her aide, got Carl hitched up to an IV and set to operate on him.
“Lori.” Rick slid a coin into her hand, and she opened Carl’s mouth with her fingers.
“W-Won’t that block his airway?”
“It’s not for aesthetics. It’s to pay… if he has to.” Lori lifted Carl’s tongue and slid the chipped coin under it. She closed his mouth and tilted her head. The satisfying crunch caused her to nod, and she too stepped back.
The rattle of gunfire and the flames licking the walls of Alexandria outside their door made Rick and Lori both run to the window. Lifting back the thin curtain presented them with a sight. The buck was still there, lying before the front door on the porch, its antlers a burning orange as the tin refracted the firelight.
“Your watch?” Denise asked as Rick snatched up the hatchet and Lori grabbed her kukri. Rick’s hand froze on the doorknob and he stared at Denise, then blinked.
“The machines will keep him alive.” Lori murmured. “Just like when he was in the hospital. We’ll know if he needs us.”
Rick’s jaw worked as he chewed over those words, and then extended his hand. Denise checked Carl was stable, and crossed to Rick. The watch felt heavier in her hand than she expected the piece to be, and noted the crown still being pushed up. Her thumb went to push it down but Rick’s gaze halted her.
Silently she handed the piece over, watching the sheriff slide it over his hand. The moment the crown clicked back into place, the humming sound stopped, and the thunderous pressure that had gathered in the room the entire time, fled like a storm having run its course.
“W-what are you?” She breathed.
Rick winked, giving her a sad, tired smile.
“I think you know a’lready, Doctor. Shout if he needs us.” He gave her a two finger salute, wrenched the door open, and then stopped.
“Any reason you’re here?” He spoke to the buck currently sniffing his boots. The buck snorted, stamped a hooved foot into the wood, and then raised his head. It tilted said head so that the antlers shadows rose up above its form to crown Rick’s own shadow. Rick himself nodded, some unspoken word passed from beast to man, and the buck stood aside, antlers speckled now with blood.
“What’s it doing here?” Lori asked as she and him crossed the porch and descended to street level, their weapons making quick work of two advancing walkers.
“Guardin’ Carl. Makes sense.” Rick shrugged, and a twang to his voice soaked the air. Lori knew that twang best of anyone. He was narrowing his focus like a sniper scope. One walker, one threat at a time. Beat through the herd, get Alexandria safe.
Save Carl.
He was out of the river now.
She and Rick had a job - to keep that river from rising.
And by god they did it.
When dawn came as it always did, the fire had been doused, the walker herd lay upon the streets and lawns of the neighborhood in pieces and oozed their tainted, parasitic blood into the soil. Foul ground. Tainted, it was.
Burn the bodies. Bury ours. Burn the bodies, bury ours.
Lori mused on this as she strapped Judith to her back and pulled a mask over her face. She wrapped her hands in thick gloves - the kind people used to forestall burns in the time before when working with hot metal.
Carl’s not out of the woods, but he’s breathing. That’s the last memo Denise sent with her aide before the sun came up. Focus on the now. Focus on the here. That’s all you can control.
So control yourself, Lori Grimes.
She stacked walker bodies into neat piles, drizzled lighter fluid over them and tossed a match into the mass of rotting, sickened flesh. The stench covered everything, worse in the cold when so much other scent was buried under a frost. Strangely, she found herself longing for that long, endless summer when Judith hadn’t yet been born, and life at Hershel’s farm had been peaceful.
Sure, Shane went insane and tried to kill her.
But Carl had put a stop to it. Faster than even his father could take Shane’s name as judgement and squeeze that second trigger. Carl had been all judge, jury and executioner. Now, Shane was dead in a field in western Georgia, and Lori was alive.
Carl was lying in a coma. Just like his dad had, before this had all gone to shit.
Like father, like son.
Judith babbled, waving her arms.
“Yeah, baby girl?” Lori turned her head, stepping back from the fires for a moment to reach up and run her fingers through Judith’s dark curls. “What’s on your mind?”
“Carl.” She burbled.
Lori stopped dead, her face splitting into a smile under her mask. Her head whipped to the side, instinctively finding Rick amongst the gathered knots of people sorting bodies of walkers from Alexandrians, and waved him over.
He came over at once, undoing the bandanna around his face with a sharp tug.
“Yeah?”
“Judy said her first word.” Lori breathed, rubbing Judith’s curls again.
“Oh?”
Judy gave a grin and clapped her hands together, shrieking wordlessly.
“C’mon sweetpea. You did it so well for mama.”
Judith giggled again and then repeated the word that’d stopped Lori dead in her tracks.
“Carl!”
“That’s her first word?” Rick snorted, smiling. His eyes glistened with tears, and he touched a hand to Judith’s plump cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “You really love your brother, don’t you, Jude-bug?”
Judith squeaked again, clapping her hands together.
“Carl!” She burbled.
At that moment, Denise came running, her boots thundering along the sidewalk. She stopped so fast she nearly skid, and only didn’t because Rick grabbed her by the arm and let her use him as a support to right herself.
“Is everything okay?”
Denise bent over at the waist, gripping her knees. Understanding what Rick had asked, she nodded, then straightened.
“I think I got myself a stitch. But… I have good news. I managed to extract the bullet from his eye. He is still in a coma, but he’s stable. Now… we wait for him to wake.” She leaned into Rick to support herself.
“He’ll wake.” Lori murmured, tugging at her gloves. “His father woke up too. He will. No doubt about it.”
“H-how can you be so sure? You’ve both been so calm.” Denise breathed. “Any other couple here would be screaming at me to save him, to do something, or be sitting with him. But you’re both here, and healthy.”
“Oh, we’re both scared out of our minds.” Rick admitted, tucking Judith’s hat down on her curls. She giggled and blew a raspberry at him. “But she keeps us on our toes, and this isn’t our first rodeo.”
“N-not your first rodeo?” Denise breathed, crossing her arms as she shivered.
“Carl was born at 26 weeks. We husbanded him through eight months of intensive neo-natal care… and lost him nearly a few times. Then, he got shot through the stomach within the first few months of this whole mess. We know all his tricks to getting back to us.” Lori replied truthfully. To anyone else, their reaction instinctively in the time before was to put their hands on Lori’s shoulder and make some sentiment about how it was God's will for Carl’s survival.
Carl had pulled himself out of hell by his own goddamn fingernails. Regardless of the failsafe of his father. Carl had fought to live. Now, he would, again. Always. That boy had a spine of iron, one that bent and strengthened with every damn tragedy life threw his way.
“Oh..” Denise nodded. She pushed her glasses up her nose, and turned her head. “I-I’ll get back to him. I’ll send word if anything changes.” She gently touched Lori’s arm with her fingers, then slid them back. “I didn’t take the coin out.”
“Good. Keep it in. Till he wakes. He likes the feeling. It soothes ‘im.” Rick explained, squeezing Denise’s arm.
“Thank you. For all of your hard work.” He added.
Denise gave a watery smile, bowed her head a little, and then shuffled off. Judith waved at Denise’s retreating form, and then began chewing on her mama’s braid.
“Ahem, Miss Judith.” Lori turned her head. “My hair is not for chewing.”
“Bah!” Judith gurgled, clapping her hands together. Her grin she gave both her parents was particularly gleeful. It was much like the one Carl gave them when he was thinking of something particularly dastardly to attempt right under their noses.
Rick snorted, and kissed Lori’s knuckles through the gloves. “We’ll get through this.”
“Of course we will.” She smiled, running a hand over his cheek. “We always do.”
Weeks later, when Carl woke in the middle of a blizzard, Andrea was there with a lamp and a length of rope lashed to her waist.
“Tie that around yourselves. There’s a weird thing you might want to see.”
“Weird how?” Rick asked as he tied Lori to him and she tested the knots.
Andrea shrugged. “Just wait and see. I can’t really explain it.”
She pulled open the front door in face of the gale, and they stepped outside, the lantern once more like a bobbing, single sun in the face of such a gale as this. The muffled silence of the blizzard dampened everything, and rick found himself welcoming the silence. He let the darkness within him rise a little, and let it reach out toward Carl subconsciously. The depths of his darkness when he was like this was meant to soothe, and whatever part of Carl comprehended his father in this state gave a warm reply.
“He’s okay.” Rick murmured, squeezing Lori’s hand. From below her hood, she gave a weak smile, and squeezed back. Andrea grinned at their smiles, and led them across several more blocks till they were knocking on Denise’s door. She met them, her apron clean for the first time in days, and ushered them in.
“He’s got a bit of a guest.”
“A bit?” Rick muttered, stamping his feet on the mat to kick off the excess snow.
“Come along and see for yourself.”
“D-dad? M-mom?” Carl’s thin, reedy voice called.
“Carl!” Lori breathed, sticking her head through the doorway. She stilled, her eyes widening. The buck that had followed them all the way from Georgia’s backwoods, lay with his head in Carl’s lap, licking the boy’s extended hand.
“Who’s the friend?” Rick asked as he came in, rubbing his arms with his hands to generate warmth. He pressed close to Lori and kissed Carl’s bandaged forehead. “Glad to see you’re awake. How do you feel?”
“Woozy. My brain’s a bit scattered. It’s not amnesia but feels…” He waved his hand weakly. “The buck helps… give me a timeline of events. Plus, we match.”
Indeed they did. The buck’s left eye was a gaping hole now cleaned out and showing the scarred tissue growth. It flicked an ear and sniffed Lori and Rick’s hands, then licked theirs too.
“How’d he get in?”
“Appeared, weirdly. I was in the grip of fever after you left, even though I was out of the river, and he came in the door and just stood there. Staring at me. The blood soaked socket was admittedly terrifying.” He shrugged. “But we’re friends now.”
“Good to know. We’ll keep Daryl well away.” Lori teased, stroking his curls again. “I’m so glad you’re awake, baby.”
Carl gave her a soft grin and then stuck out his tongue, the coin resting on its surface. “I think you’ll be wanting this back.” He explained. Rick snorted, plucking the coin from his son’s tongue. He rubbed it against his pant leg to get the spit off and pressed his hands around it to once more give it the familiar star shape.
“Thanks, son.”
“No problem, dad.” Carl smirked and reached weakly for the stetson. “Anythin’ you can do about this?” He handed it off to his parents, who both examined the brim for a moment.
“I actually think the hole gives it character. A sign you survived it. As you do with everything. It looks badass.” Lori suggested.
Carl blinked, then his face split into a toothy smile.
“Really?”
“Absolutely.” She squeezed his hand and looked at Rick, who held the stetson in his hand for a moment more and then plopped it on Carl’s head.
“You know what Judy’s first word was?”
“Nah, tell me.” Carl answered, knitting his fingers together in curiosity.
“Carl.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” Lori sat down on the bed, crimping the sheets. “She said it while I was burning the walker bodies.”
“Huh.” Carl muttered. “Well… let her know I miss her.”
“You’ll be home soon enough. As soon as this blizzard blows itself out.” Rick squeezed Carl’s hand again. Carl’s single visible brow rose and he smirked. “You sure of that, dad?”
“Oh, for sure.” Rick teased. “Always am. Plus, I’m never wrong.”
“That’s true.” Lori agreed, looking between her beloved husband and son. “I’m glad you’re back on your feet, baby.”
“Me too, mom. Me too.” Carl replied, then yawned. “Damn, I’m tired. Could we pick this up in a few hours? Let the storm blow itself out?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Sleep well.” Lori pressed her lips to Carl’s forehead and then got up and went out to get herself prepped for the walk back. Carl looked to his father, and then bit his lip.
“Could you close the door? I-I need to discuss something with you.”
“Sure thing, son.” Rick closed the door slowly so it wouldn’t squeak in the cold, and then sat in the chair by Carl’s head. Carl licked his lips, then opened his mouth.
“Is it normal… for the children of whomever death makes his… form… to have visions of potential future incidents like this?”
Rick froze cold, his eyes widening.
“W-what’d you see?”
Carl bit his lip, then looked up at his father with that one remaining blue eye once more reflecting the stars above the Styx, and spoke:
“Judith… Shot in the same place you were. I-it’s foggy. I can’t tell where or when it happens. But I know, for some reason, you’re not there. I-I don’t know why. But she’s scared. And I-I can’t do what you can.” Carl noted himself squeezing his father’s hand hard enough to hurt.
“Is there anything that is clear?”
Carl scrunched up his face and looked helplessly to the buck standing silently by the bed. He closed his single eye, a tear rolling down his cheek, and then breathed out slowly.
“Carl?”
“A-all I can remember is why it happens. T-there’s a community out there, Dad. Something big. Bigger than Alexandria. I-it’s real. We’ve gotta be ready for it. I don’t know where. Or when. But it’s out there.”
“And they hurt Judy? How?”
“I can’t remember.” He winced, pressing a hand to his forehead. “I’m sorry, I wish I could tell you more but…” He screwed his eye shut, and then shook his head.
“N-no. It’s okay. Don’t over exert yourself. I’ll be back in a few hours. Try and get some sleep, kiddo.” Rick gently kissed Carl’s forehead. “I Love you.”
“Love you too dad.” Carl murmured, lowering his hand away from his forehead. He heard the door snick shut and then turned his eye back to the buck. Its ears twitched again and Carl sighed.
“I’m glad I didn’t tell him about the bat.” He murmured, sighing. “He doesn’t need to know about what comes next. N-none of them do. I’ll hold onto that all by myself.”
The buck stamped its hoof into the floor, and the oil lamp by Carl’s head went out in the next moment, plunging both boy and buck into soothing inky darkness. As Carl slid into sleep, he pressed his hands to the crown of his head and wrapped himself into a ball, smelling the reek of blood, and the scrape of a bat being dragged through the dirt.
Eeenie, meanie… minie, mo.
Finis
Yk things are bad when I’m staring at my google document about to make the literal American president Franklin Delano Roosevelt a vampire because I have to ignore our current political reality to policies created 90 years ago.
Sigh
The Rizz Campaign Masterposts
Hi friends,
This is just a masterlist of the fics that have been written about the Dungeons and Dragons campaigns that I am spearheading/DMing. I want to take the time to thank my players, @egopocalypse, @seaswalllow, @ Crimson, @spiccykels, @a-humble-narcissus, @shadowtigress2, @lupineguardian for being so beautiful and lovely and just...for giving me the opportunity to do this. These are a series of fics that revolve around their characters and some of the NPCs they've formed bonds with.
Please note that you require an account to see these. Or at least comment.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
🌹🌹🌹🌹
-
Thank you! <3
-
She opens the door and her brother comes inside, carrying way too many bags.
“What is all that?”
He steps inside. “I have ginger tea, gingersnaps, ginger beer—the non-alcoholic kind—, three different kind of crackers, fresh fruit, vitamins, peppermints, a smoothie, and also take-out from one of your favorite places, in case you feel like eating—”
Cassie raises her eyebrows. “Someone’s been Googling.”
Ben winces. “It’s too much, isn’t it? Liam told me it was. I just—I want to help, Cassie.”
🌹🌹🌹🌹
Please?
-
Thank you! <3
-
Probably fantasizing about her dead boyfriend every night is not healthy, but it makes her happy, so she won’t be stopping anytime soon. Especially tonight. She lays down on her bed on her side, one hand on her belly, the other holding the ultrasound strip. She closes her eyes and waits. After a moment, soft as a feather, she can feel him there with her.
“Hey,” he says with a grin.
“Hey,” she says back, smiling. “How was your day?”