Disclaimer: Property of TWD, etc.
Summary: It's been ten years since Lori's death and Rick still hears her voice as clearly and sweetly as if she's standing right next to him, feels her warm body tucked into his arms as he sleeps...until today.
Ten years.
Ten years since that day from hell, when the prison was overrun and walkers got between him and Lori. It still hurt and he knew it always would. The pain had become a part of him, a constant companion that had burrowed in and made itself comfortable for the long haul.
When the visions had stopped a few years back, it was like he'd lost her all over again. Food turned tasteless in his mouth and choked him. The ache in his chest deepened until he felt as if he would suffocate from the weight of it. Nights were the worst, when it was quiet and the thoughts, the memories would flood in and drown him, when he'd stretch an arm out on pure instinct to reach for Lori and pull her close only to feel the cold, empty sheets beside him.
Thank God for Judith and Carl, keeping him grounded, keeping him from slipping over the edge into the quicksand of insanity that would pull him down and never let him back up to breathe again.
Carl had his mother's practicality, her strength. Growing up in this world, this heartless, cold, brutal world, Carl didn't snap, didn't let himself become blackened by the need to survive and protect.
And Judith, sweet little Judith. A small smile crept across his lips at the thought of Judith, the spitting image of her mother. Her bright, sharp eyes, her soft, dark brown hair, even the way she batted her eyelashes in an effort to convince him to teach her how to shoot or go on runs with Carl and Uncle Daryl. Every word, every mannerism reminded him of Lori.
Today, on waking up, he waited. Even though he hadn't seen a vision of Lori in years, he still heard her quiet, gentle voice reassuring him, saying how proud she was of sensible Carl and fearless Judith. He still felt her presence so strongly as if her soft, thin hands were touching his cheek or resting on his shoulders like she used to do, felt her pressed against his back as she wrapped her arms around him from behind.
Every morning, in the hazy moments between waking and sleep, he would feel her, just for a few precious seconds, warm, tucked into his arms. He'd smell the faint scent of lavender from her hair, feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat and feel her fingers tangled with his.
He waited.
Nothing.
Slowly, he opened his eyes at the realization.
She was really gone.
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