Author's Note: Bury My Heart is a dystopian AU story diverging from my main Negan/OC/Rick story Goodnight Love. The dystopian aspect is based on the 2010 film 'The Krazies'. This story can be read as a stand-alone and is primarily Rick/OC. Videos for characters canon and original, can be found on my Youtube channel via the link on my profile.
'Though an army encamp against me... though war arise against me, my heart shall not fear...'
Psalm 27:3
Red, White & Blue
Nobody ever had a dream round here
But I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me
Nobody ever pulls the seams round here
But I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me…
"I could do a donut as of right now."
"Is that a hint, Abraham Ford?"
"It's a provocative proposition, Officer Friendly," Abraham leered, before leaning out of the cruiser window, wolf-whistling at Hershel Greene as he limped down the sidewalk at speed towards them. "Nice shorts, sugar-lump," he hollered, gesturing to the khaki cut-offs Hershel was sporting, proudly displaying his prosthetic.
"You're not getting your paws on these drawers," Hershel said, slowing to a stop, "not unless you work for it, Ford."
"Nah," Abraham drawled, "I don't think I could afford you,"
"They are nice shorts though," Rick said, eyes crinkling up at the corners, "you steal them off a washin' line, Hershel?"
Hershel raised his eyebrows, studying Rick for a brief moment, relieved to see the sheriff had regained some of his old spirit. After Rick's disastrous involvement with Imogen Alford, the English waitress who worked at the local diner 'Teddy's', Hershel had watched Rick drift into a deep depression, spending hours trying to talk him out of his slump, whilst admonishing Imogen during their weekly dinners about the damage her 'loose ways' had done. "Maggie bought me them," he said self-deprecatingly, plucking at his trouser leg, "I think she's trying to turn me into a trendy man about town."
"You certainly look like a man on a mission," Abraham said dryly, "where's the fire?"
"Foaling up at one of the outlying farms," Hershel said, making to set off again, "mare's in difficulty. Still on for Spaghetti Tuesday?" he fired at them as he limped in the direction of his light blue pick-up.
"Wild horses couldn't keep us away," Abraham bellowed back.
"That man is the epitome of patriarch," Rick observed, drumming his fingers off the cruiser dashboard.
"Rules this one-horse town."
"Would you stop the horse references, man?"
"Only if you take your ass over to 'Teddy's' and pick up our goddamn gear," Abraham said, turning to face Rick, "and don't look at me like that, buddy. Stop bein' a pussy over that piece of English ass and man up."
Rick's jaw tightened, Abraham's militaristic manner getting on his last nerve as always. Despite swapping the army for the police force, Abraham had never really left White Point, and it showed in his speech and stare, his step that of a soldier.
Abraham studied Rick's rigid profile, sudden sympathy making him stand down. "Look, Rick," he said, exhaling sharply, "you're gonna have to face her some time. Just think of it as her loss."
"What, like you're Sasha's loss?" Rick snapped, making the blood drain from Abraham's face.
"That is neither here or there," Abraham snapped back, smoothing down his ginger moustache with agitated fingers.
"You know it ain't goin' anywhere with Rosita," Rick pointed out acerbically, "only round in circles. So end it and tell Sasha how you feel. You might be... pleasantly surprised."
Abraham looked out of the cruiser window, his fists clenching by his sides, the thought of Sasha striking him straight in the solar plexus. He was in a relationship with Rosita Espinoza, who ran the local gas station and coached the town's Little League team in her spare time, but his eye always wandered, dwelling on Imogen amongst others, caught by her accent and Monroe hips as Rick had been. But no woman had his heart like Sasha, and he often made excuses to ride by the fire station and talk to her during their down-time. If she gave the signal, he would be like a lion tamed, faithful to the last.
Rick glanced down at the radio, his stomach rumbling, preferring to cast himself into a pit of poisonous snakes before walking into Imogen's work. After his marriage had ended, Rick had resigned himself to a lonely bachelorhood, never having had much of a way with women in the first place. But then Imogen had entered his life, exotic and unexpected, making the first and final move, and here he was, back to square one.
The break-up of his marriage had rocked the county, the scandal spreading like wildfire that the deputy's wife had been having an affair with the sheriff, ripping Rick's world apart. Shane had been like his brother and the betrayal had almost driven Rick over the edge, no longer knowing who to trust. His relationship had been on the rocks for months, Lori constantly condemning him, the two of them trying for another baby in a last ditch attempt to save their marriage. When Judith had been born, he'd been instantly besotted with his baby daughter, until Lori had dropped the bombshell he might not be the father, confessing she'd been having an affair with Shane for months prior to Judith's conception.
A paternity test had revealed Shane to be Judith's father, but Rick had been prepared to forgive Lori, still loving her, wanting to raise Judith as his own. But Lori had been done with living a lie, and she'd left Rick, moving with Shane to Atlanta, winning custody of Carl, Rick only having access at the weekends. Now Lori and Shane were engaged, playing happy families with Rick's children, something that made Rick want to rip Shane apart. He no longer loved Lori, but he missed Carl desperately, Judith even more so, still considering her as his daughter.
"C'mon now, get your ass into gear," Abraham said, elbowing him in the side, ruining Rick's reverie, "I'm done bein' your errand boy. It's time to face the music."