So often was their focus on the darkness beyond the walls, that sometimes stopping to catch the light within scared him just as much…
Rick's fear began when he joined the rest of the residents outside by the lake, its surface iridescent with the rays of the mid-afternoon sun. Chairs had been placed over the vibrant green grass, and he greeted the guests as they sat down on either side of a makeshift aisle. He kissed each of the women wearing shades of blue, and hugged each of the men in white.
In front of all of them stood Father Gabriel, bible-clad arms folded over a simple white jumper. He smiled knowingly when he saw Rick, and shook his hand not as a priest, not as a friend, but as family.
However Rick's fear deepened when the music began to play, and Judith emerged at the beginning of the aisle, bouncing and giggling with glee as she scattered sunflowers around her. A laugh inadvertently escaped his throat, levity momentarily filling his chest at the sight of his daughter. That morning, someone special had told her that she was the most beautiful sunflower in the world, and the little girl had not stopped smiling since, skipping as she jumped into her big brother's arms.
Rick smiled at the sight, and he looked towards Carl, who now stood beside him. It was in that moment that he saw Lori, her faced superimposed within the contours of his son's blue eyes and dark locks. She was no longer the spectre of his pain, but the source of his gratitude. In his mind he thanked her, because she had given him his son and his daughter on the happiest day of his life.
Suddenly, the music loudened and Carl tugged at his arm. Everyone's attention turned to the other end of the aisle.
And it was when Rick immediately shut his eyes.
His fear gripped him, even as the gloomy susurrations of the undead beyond the walls were overridden by the mellifluous harmonies of Aaron's violin… Even as he heard Judith squealing with delight in Carl's arms… Even as the gushes of the guests indicated the presence of the woman he most wanted see…even as he felt her at the other end of the aisle…And yet, his fear seemed to have superseded his happiness.
"It's okay to open your eyes…" were the words that roused him each morning.
It was on their first night together that he had discovered his greatest fear, when she had awoken in the moonlight to find his tired blue eyes fixated on her.
"Why are you still awake?" She had asked.
He'd surprised himself, when the romantic response he wished to give struggled in his throat. When concern narrowed her eyes at his hesitation, he set free what was in his heart.
It was then that he recounted the nascence of his fear, the day he had awoken in that hospital to find a world which had moved on without him. He told her he was afraid to close his eyes that night, because he could not bear to open them again only to no longer see her by his side.
And so each morning, after succumbing to the peaceful somnolence that so frequently overwhelmed him after spending the night making love to her, he would hesitate for a few seconds to open his eyes - just in case. But she always woke before him, and she always reassured him with those words.
"Rick… It's okay to open your eyes."
And it was those words which now compelled him as they resounded in his mind. He inhaled deeply, and braced himself.
When he finally opened his eyes, he never wanted to close them again…
An angel walked towards him, and her name was Michonne.
He did not need to see her wings for him to feel them, he did not need wings to know that he could fly.
'Perfect', had always been a relative word. In another life where the dead did not walk, 'perfect' had been the comfort of his daily life within the comfortable confines of King County. Later, 'perfect' became the protection provided by the solidness of the rusty iron bars in an abandoned prison. Then, with the agony of all that came after, 'perfect' was simply hearing his son's laughter after he had begun to forget what it sounded like.
However, in his eyes, the perfection that was Michonne as she floated along the aisle in an ivory dress, was independent of time and irrelevant of the transience of the new world.
He stood breathless, overwhelmed by the radiance of her of chocolate brown eyes and warm smile. Her beautiful locks fell freely over her shoulders, providing glimpses to the tied halter neck framing her athletic shoulders. His eyes moved down over the large sunflowers she held in her hands, stationed below the curve of her breasts, full and rounded by the lineaments of her dress. The thought of untying the bow at back of her neck charged him with electricity in a secret place, one which he quickly forced himself to reign in.
Gushes adorned her as she glided by, Rosita and Tara picking up some of Judith's sunflowers and throwing it behind her. When she approached him, his eyes rested upon her own, and he swallowed, moved by her beauty.
The violin stopped, and the world seemed to pause. She reached out and their hands joined together, like the confluence of fate which had melded their paths at the end of the world. He exhaled, and only remembered they were not alone when Father Gabriel prompted them to their vowels. He thought only of how much he loved her as they proceeded to promise each other the world and so much more, feeling nothing but happiness through the laughter and food of the picnic they all shared afterwards.
Later when dusk pulled the sun away, he looked out into the direction of the murmuring walls, and fear crept into its familiar place inside his heart.
It would remain there, until later that night when Michonne would lean into his ear and whisper, "It's okay to close your eyes, I'm still with you."