Just a little something I wrote in the aftermath of the Killer Within.
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Walking Dead.
The first thing he felt was shock.
It couldn't be. She couldn't be dead. She was just resting, resting somewhere in the bowels of the prison. He would go to her, and she would smile at him, the smile he fell in love with all those years ago. They would hold their daughter together, all the pain of the last months pushed aside. They would be a family, him, her, his son, his daughter. They would be brought together again.
The second thing he felt was grief.
It hit him square in the chest, crashing upon him like a wave breaks upon a beach. An overwhelming feeling of sadness so strong it made his legs gave way. He fell to the ground with a sickening thud. She was dead. Gone forever, beyond his reach, somewhere he couldn't follow. He hadn't even been able to say he was sorry. Sorry for the hurtful words, the cold stares, the giant rift between them. Sorry for the way he had let their marriage crumble into ashes, even after she made attempts to fix it. Sobs tore from his throat, his body convulsing on the dusty bloodstained ground of the prison yard.
The third thing he felt was anger.
Anger so consuming he couldn't feel anything else. He was on autopilot. Kill, kill, kill, nothing else. He made it halfway into the prison, bodies littering his wake as he tore into the remaining walkers. These accursed beings had ruined him. They had taken his life, his best friend, and now his wife. It was only a matter of time before they took everything else. They all needed to die. He wouldn't be satisfied until their tainted blood flowed like a river through the dingy cell blocks.
The fourth thing he felt was numb.
They had managed to subdue him, to stop his rampant killing spree. It had taken both Glenn and Daryl, and he had nearly killed Glenn in the process. It didn't matter though. He felt nothing. He was empty. A ghost, a soulless shell of his former self. He didn't even react when Daryl shouted excitedly that Carol had been found. He looked at the machete in his hand. It dripped with blood, black and shiny in the fading sunlight. He just had to lift it up, put it to his throat, and cut. Then it would all be over. All the pain, all the struggle, all the heartbreak of this cold and lifeless world.
The fifth thing he felt was surprise.
She looked so much like her mother. She had her eyes, her nose, her soft mouth. She looked up at him curiously, her big brown eyes blinking rapidly. He was surprised at the love he felt washing over him. Surprised he still had enough of a heart to feel something. But he did feel something. He felt love. Pure, radiating love. He took a finger and gently ran it over her cheek. She gurgled in response, grabbing the finger in her tiny hand. His heart nearly stopped.
He looked from her tiny innocent face, to the faces of the people surrounding him. Once again, he was hit with surprise. They weren't looking at him with horror, fear or disgust. There faces bore looks of friendship, of support, of love. He looked at all of them in turn, lingering the longest on his son. Even there, there was no hate, no malice. He looked back to his daughter, who cooed at him softy.
In that moment, he realized he had felt many things. Shock, grief, anger, numbness. He had felt them in the days gone by, he had felt them in the day that was here, and he would feel them in the days to come. But as he looked around at his little makeshift family, Rick Grimes knew there was one thing he was never going to feel.
And that was alone.
Anybody else drown in a river of their own tears after watching that episode?