AN: This chapter doesn't contain anything explicit, save for the use of more than a few F bombs.
The next chapter, however, is a totally different story. )
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD, OR ANY OF THE WALKING DEAD CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN BRANDI DIXON, MY OC.
I hope you enjoy! Remember to favorite, follow, review, etc. I want to know how I'm doing.
And I apologize if Rick is a little OOC.
Like a Ghost
Young Brandi Dixon absolutely couldn't sleep. She was just tossing and turning on her bed, if you could even call it that, in her cell. She sighed harshly and threw her arm over her eyes, letting out a mumbled stream of profanities. The sun was just starting to creep over the edge of the earth, turning night slowly to day, and the sixteen year old spitfire hadn't slept a wink.
She perked up a little bit as she heard someone slowly walking down the cellblock. Who would even be up this early from the few days they had had before? What with them losing T-Dog and Lori, probably even Carol too, it had been rough on everyone. Hell, even Hershel almost died.
Brandi sat up in her cot slowly, reaching over to her bag that was on the floor, yanking out a tattered journal and a pen. Whoever was up was probably haunted by nightmares as she was, so she decided to leave them be. She flipped open the journal and continued writing the story, or fanfiction rather, that she had started when the virus broke out. It was about her favorite movie, Sweeney Todd, and it was a form of escape for her. A stress reliever, if you will.
In all honesty, she would have used sex as a stress reliever instead if there was anyone in the group that had been worth her time. Back in Atlanta, or near it, there was Shane, Dale, Carl, Ed, T-Dog, and Daryl and Merle. Shane was the hottest, but he was with Lori. Dale was an old fuck. Carl was just a little kid. Ed was a world class fuckin' asshole. T-Dog just wasn't her type. And Daryl and Merle were her brothers, still are. There was absolutely no way that she would stoop that low as to fuck her own goddamn brothers. She would have rather been finger fucked in her goddamn ass by Freddy fuckin' Krueger than do that. No way in hell. And don't even get her started about the farm. She wouldn't even want to try to think about having sex with Hershel. He looked like a damn mall Santa.
Brandi chuckled slightly and shook her head, thinking about the days at the farm. It had been so much easier. She was knocked out of her reverie when she heard a knock on the wall of her cell. She whipped her head around to find Rick Grimes standing there, leaning against the door frame. Seeing her sitting there, his heart almost stopped. She looked so much like Lori. Younger and prettier, yes...but still so much like her. The same skin tone, hair color, hair length, height...hell, even her eyes were the same exact color. It sent a pang of sadness and guilt through his heart just looking at her.
"Hey there, Officer." She drawled in greeting, a teasing twinkle in her eyes. She wasn't good with nicknames like Merle was, she guessed she inherited that from Daryl. But she would be lying if she said she hadn't wanted a piece of Rick. Just the thought alone made her all hot under the collar, dear Jesus. Of course, she was lucky now that the darkness was hiding her sudden blush. She shifted herself so she faced him more and her expression turned serious, "You doin' alrigh'?" She murmured, trying to avoid looking at him directly.
She had noticed the eerie similarities between her and Lori before he had. Mostly because Shane had come onto her after Lori broke it off with him, but she had rejected him because he had been being "a damned asshole."
Rick clenched his jaw and looked away from Brandi at the same time she'd looked away from him. He could do nothing but stare at the wall of her cell for a few moments as he collected his scrambled thoughts. 'She's a teenager. She's sixteen years old. You're a cop. Your wife just died, for Christ's sake. It just isn't right.' He kept on telling himself, but there was nothing that was stopping the increasingly inappropriate thoughts sweeping through his mind.
Rick cleared his throat, bringing up a hand to scratch the back of his neck, somewhat awkwardly, "I'm, uh...doin' fine, I suppose." He swallowed, almost audibly, and saw Brandi nod in his peripheral vision. He looked back over to her, finally seeing the pen and journal in her lap, "I didn't know ya wrote."
Brandi's eyes darted back to Rick's for merely a second before settling on the journal sitting on her bare thighs. She felt a self conscious need to crawl under the covers and hide when she suddenly remembered that she was only wearing a wife beater, no bra, and her underwear. No doubt, that's part of what had Rick so worked up, even though it was only in his mind. At least, for now.
"Oh yeah, well...I do. I meant t'keep it a secret, but..." She shrugged lightly, crossing her arms over her chest before her nips started to pop out. Not only was it a little chilly, but she could also sense the sexual tension in the air. She could cut it with a knife if she wanted to. She moved her legs from being placed Indian style to being crossed. She didn't want him to know that she was starting to get a little excited. They'd never talked this long before and she could see the change in his demeanor.
Much to Rick's horror, his mouth spoke without him wanting it to, "May I come in?"
Brandi's skin tingled, she was sure that she knew where this was going and she did not mind in the slightest. So she nodded and mumbled out a "sure", in typical Dixon fashion. She hadn't expected Rick to be so brazen as to close the cell door behind him and pull the blankets that she used as makeshift curtains closed. But that brazenness only caused her blood to run hot, in the totally good way.
The moral side of Rick's brain was screaming at him to turn the fuck back around and walk away, but that little voice was soon silenced.
Rick was no longer a good guy, he was no longer a cop. He was broken and Brandi might have been the only person able to help him feel somewhat whole again.
As he sat on the cot with her, he could feel the heat emanating off her in waves, could pretty much smell her arousal. He could do nothing but just look at her, and she him, and they both knew that the other understood exactly what they were going through.
There was absolutely no going back, no matter how wrong it was.