Title: Lend Me Your Strength
Author: veiledndarkness
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mildly implied Rick/Shane
Summary: He can pretend that this isn't the end, when Rick's holding tightly to him.
Disclaimer: Characters within are not mine, no profit has been made and no harm is intended.
*Written for the twd_kinkmeme on Livejournal Handholding Prompt*
Takes place after the events of 18 Miles Out Season 2
x
He's watching the scenery fly by, the trees a green blur in the distance, field after field stretching out endlessly on either side of the car and though he's bone weary, he can't close his eyes.
His face hurts and his body pulses in pain with each breath that he takes. His heart is still pounding far too hard on his ribcage and he can't bring himself to look at Rick, can't tear his gaze from the passenger side window.
If he looks, he knows what he'll see and he can't do that just yet. He can't look at the bruises and streaks of blood on Rick's skin, not when he knows how they got there. His own skin is covered the same but he's not angry, not any more, not when he knows how close he was to going a step too far.
His stomach is a tense ball of anger and resentment and fear and he stares out the window absently. There's a walker shambling along in the passing field, dressed in a ragged looking black suit and Shane feels his chest hitch with a small, jagged breath.
He'd meant to do it at the time, had felt a burst of righteous anger erupt at the moment that the wrench had left his hands, arching high and towards Rick's chest, only to feel the anger turn to horror at the knowledge of what he'd almost done slammed home and the wrench had sailed into the glass window above Rick's head.
He can hear Rick's even breathing next to him and he feels his ears burn with shame. He's not there, not really. He's sitting there next to Rick as always but he can't think of anything besides what he'd done, the way he'd thrown that wrench and it's too much to think about.
It hurts to breathe and he's not entirely sure that this moment is really happening, that Randall's back in the trunk, that Rick's driving them all back to the farm, that maybe he's still trapped on that bus, left behind, left for dead and it's that panicky thought that has him reaching out blindly for Rick's hand, gripping his fingers as he holds the gearshift.
Rick's hand is warm under his and he can hear the pause in Rick's breaths before his fingers relax on the gearshift. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and he feels the bundle of hurt in his chest flex under the assurance that he's not in the bus, he's here, that he didn't do the unthinkable in the end.
He's still staring out the window when he feels Rick's fingers twitch, feels him slide his hand out from under Shane's fingers and the pang that hits him makes his throat ache until he feels Rick's hand cup his, holding his fingers in close, his thumb resting on the back of Shane's hand.
He blinks and exhales a shuddery breath at the feel of Rick's thumb brushing slow, little circles over his hand, soothing and smoothing away a streak of dirt, of dried blood and Shane lets his eyes close for a moment, lets himself pretend that everything will be ok when they get back to the farm.
Rick's fingers hold him in close and his thumb rubs gentle, little circles as he drives and Shane keeps his eyes closed as he listens to the sound of Rick breathing and the sound of his own wildly beating heart in his ears.
He can pretend better like this, he thinks as the car moves, with Rick holding tightly to him.
x