Chapter Text
the wind kicks up a notch, swirling a chill down his spine. he observes the motion of the frigid air making its way through the leaves. winter will one day be gone, but as it is, he is grateful for the cold now.
the dead is slow, the days even slower. his movements never falter though, and there he sees himself as blessed. his family is fed and he is warm enough, it's all rick could really ask for.
his found and chosen family surrounds him, each pitching in along side himself and his wife. even his son, just nearly eight years old, does his part. they all do. it is what must be done. it is what they can do. he thinks to himself, it's the one thing he can actually control; taking care of his family in every way he can.
he sits, now, at the fire, surrounded by his family. his wife, lori, sits next to him: his son lays in her lap, silently. if you didn't know, you'd think he was sleeping. next to lori, sits carol with her daughter sophia in her lap, gleefully listening to her mother's soft humming. glenn sits by his lonesome, next to dale and andrea, who sit quietly.
it hasn't been good, rick could easily admit that. this was their last night on this hill, and for once, it was peaceful. they had all lost someone, this was true. andrea lost her sister, amy, the night prior. they had lost half their camp to roamers.
he felt like it was his fault at first, but he knows deep down that they should've left sooner. that in itself was not his fault. that was Shane's burden to carry. though, Shane no longer with them, left the burden to Rick's shoulders. he knows he should've fought harder. for amy, for jim. for all of them.
“i think we should get the kiddos to sleep.” he whispers, which earns a nod from both lori and carol.
"good idea."
and with that, carol is gone. he runs his hand through lori’s hair, shooting her a small smile. “let's get this young’n inside, yea?"
she doesn't smile back. “yeah.”
— ★ —
he tucks his son in to bed, on this two sleeper, at most, couch in Dale's rv. it's not amazing, but it works: for now. he runs his fingers across Carl's eyelids, almost entrancing, chanting, ‘it's safe, son. it's safe.’
soon, Carl's eyes lose their tightness and his face softens to the pull of sleep. rick is grateful for another night by his family's side.
a soft hum of contentment leaves his lips. he places a soft kiss on his son's forehead, and when he pulls away, carl makes no movement; rick is certain he's asleep.
with carl tucked away in bed, rick can't help but feel the change in the wind. lori wasn't over shane’s death. not yet. he wonders if she will ever truly be over it. deep down, so far down inside himself, inside the frigid depth of his heart, he knows. he knows something happened between his wife, and what he thought, his best friend.
if he thinks about it too hard, the betrayal almost becomes unbearable. the words shane had said, the violence he had succumbed to—it was something rick never expected.
shane, an officer of the law, alongside rick: his partner against crime. he left him for dead. he tried to steal rick’s wife, his family. his own words, “she would have come around. you ruined it all when you came back.”
he stares at the ground, now, his legs dangling over the side of the rv’s couch. he focuses on his breathing to ground him. though, each breath only stirs the thoughts in his mind and the feelings in his chest. it's likely he won't be escaping them tonight.
he listens to carl's soft breathing, and it soothes the anxiety crawling around in his chest—just a tad. it's enough to calm him to the point of relaxing his tense muscles.
he's tired, but rick couldn't sleep if he wanted to. he's on first watch, with dale to bring up the second. most nights, it's only two people, some nights there's more willing to help.
he yawns and stretches, trying to ease his back against the sofa easily, as to not wake his sleeping child and wife.
“rick."
he startles, “yes?”
“can we talk?”
“of course, what's wrong?”
she hesitates. he can feel the anxiety in the air, the tension around the words she's trying to frame. she takes a sharp breath of air in. “rick. I'm pregnant.”
“what?” the air is suddenly quite thin—the oxygen surrounding him feels like a suffocating sludge. “are you s-sure? how would you know-?”
she smiles, “i can tell. it felt this way with carl. i just know. we're going to have a baby.”
“a baby,” he breathes.
“a baby, yes. a baby.” she agrees.
a baby that will grow up in a world full of flesh eating monsters, he thinks.
she places her hand on his cheek, “hon, it will be fine. we'll find a way. we always do. always.”
“always.”
— ★ —
the morning comes.
less cold. more warmth. melting snow. moving wheels. growling bellies. moaning roamers.
what a time to be alive, he muses to himself, what a time.
they pack their belongings and head for the open road. it's time to move on. from the loss, from this city. from it all.