A/N:
Starting us off is Tigerwalk She's known in some circles as one of the Queens of Angst but she does characterization and dissects the Grimes family in such a compelling way you're sure to be wrapped up in her work. She brings a bit of everything in this one while striking a perfect balance.
So get comfy….this is a special, heartfelt one…
Be sure to stay tuned for the next chapter brought to you by comewithnattah.
-We're The Ones Who Write
"It's hot, man. I'm tellin' ya." Shane hung his elbow out of the window of the cruiser, the scorching sun heating the metal to an almost unbearable temperature.
"Sounds painful," Rick said, with a mouthful of cheeseburger.
"You would say that, man. Imma tell Michonne about it. You'll thank me later."
Rick finished chewing and reached for his soda, giving his partner a cautionary look over the straw as he sipped. "I'm not sure any of that story is appropriate to tell another man's wife."
"Fine," Shane relented, "but you're missing out."
Rick turned to look out his own window with a smirk, knowing damn well he wasn't missing anything with Michonne. He didn't need to let Shane in on that, though. He wiped at his brow with the back of his hand, then fiddled with the air conditioning again before accepting defeat. The fifteen year old vehicle hadn't had a tune up in longer than he could remember and the barely chilled air tumbling leisurely out of the vents couldn't compete with the mid-July, Georgia temperatures.
"How's 'Chonne taking this heat, man? She bout ready to pop anyway, can't be enjoyin' this."
"She's making do. She's still at work and you know those old stone walls in the courthouse stay nice and cold." He glanced at his watch, noting that it was just about the time she would be heading to lunch herself, and he fought the urge to call her and remind her to stay somewhere cool, and make sure to bring plenty of water. He knew she was getting irritated at his hovering, but it was in his nature to try to protect her, even if she didn't need it.
Days like this were usually busy with escalating tempers and people who were on the brink of delinquency being pushed over the edge by the torture of barely being able to breath the thick air. Today, however, they had managed to get an entire forty-five minute lunch break in and had nowhere in particular to be when they finished.
"Slow day," Shane mused, as if he had been reading Rick's mind.
"Don't jinx it." Rick crumpled up the paper wrapper from his lunch, stuffing all of the trash in the bag that the meal had come in, then held it out for Shane to do the same. No sooner had he given his superstitious admonition did the radio spring to life with static, followed by the nasally voice of Irene on dispatch summoning them away from their lull.
"Units in the area of Main and Oak streets, we have a call regarding a motor vehicle accident involving a pedestrian. Please respond."
"That'd be us," Shane sighed. Rick gave him an 'I told you so' eye roll before turning the ignition, and putting the car in drive. Shane grabbed the trash they'd collected and tossed the bag out the window into a can they passed as his partner spun out of the parking spot and headed downtown.
...
"Fronta the convenience store," Shane pointed, as they approached the scene where they could already see a crowd gathered, some of them shouting and flagging them down. Rick maneuvered through a sea of vehicles, all angling toward the curb and out of the way of the blaring lights and sirens, before coming to a halt a few spaces down from the car that seemed to be the focal point of the group. He threw the gear shift into park and hopped out just as a hysterical blonde woman, whom he recognized from the barber shop across the street, rushed to meet him.
"What's goin' on, Jessie?" he asked, as he made his way at a quick clip down the sidewalk.
"Rick, oh my God," she said, tears streaming from her eyes, "she's talking...she...she's asking for you, actually."
Rick raised an eyebrow at her as he walked, questioning who the woman was referring to. The call hadn't mentioned any identifying characteristics of either party. He glanced around over the heads of the gathering crowd he was squeezing through, suddenly terrified he might see Michonne's car in the chaotic scene
"Make a path," he heard Shane say from his spot ahead of him, as the people began to push into one another to allow the officers past. Rick got the distinct feeling they were all staring at him though, and his heart nearly stopped when his partner skidded to a halt in front of them, looking back over his shoulder at Rick before jogging the last couple steps and dropping to his knee.
"Is it Michonne?" he asked nervously, to the woman who seemed to both be leading him and simultaneously keeping him from arriving too quickly with her dramatic fussing. Placing a hand on her shoulder and gently pushing her out of his way, he said his wife's name again to anyone who was listening. Just as Jessie opened her mouth to answer though, the red, tear streaked face of his son appeared before him from the curb, where he stood being consoled by an older couple neither of them knew. He squinted, momentarily disoriented by the sight, then his gaze dropped to the ground where, to his horror, he saw his daughter lying on the concrete, her head now in Shane's lap.
"Judith," he cried, dropping down beside his partner and picking the little girl's hand up in his. "Are you ok, baby?"
Judith began sobbing louder when she spotted him, and immediately attempted to crawl her way into his arms, as Shane held her shoulders. Rick leaned over her on his hands and knees, and let her wrap one of her little arms around his neck. "Shhh," he soothed, looking up frantically at Shane who was inspecting the little girl for injuries as she clung to her daddy. "Stay still, baby."
"Is it your arm, sweetheart?" Shane asked, noting the way she was cradling the other in her lap.
She didn't answer. She continued to cry into Rick's shirt, and Shane removed his radio from his shoulder and began relaying details to the ambulance already en route.
"What the hell happened?" Rick yelled, turning his head as best he could from Judith's vice grip to glare at the gathering crowd, as if they were all somehow responsible. His narrowed gaze fell on a man leaning against the storefront, his arms wrapped around his shoulders, rocking back and forth as a few people spoke with him. "Were you drivin'?" he growled loudly at the man from his spot on his knees.
"Dad," Carl said, breaking free of the woman who had been offering him a bit of comfort. "I was...she just ran out...it was an accident."
"They're five minutes out, Rick," Shane said, just as they heard the sirens whining in the distance.
"Baby, you gotta tell us where it hurts, ok?" he begged into his daughter's curly blonde ponytail. He gently removed her good arm from his neck and ran his eyes up and down her face, finding a couple of raw, red marks on her cheek, obviously caused by the pavement. His pulse began to quicken at the sight. "Did you hit your head, sweety?"
"Mmmhmm," Judith sobbed, her breath catching in her lungs as she tried to speak. "It hurts, daddy."
Rick wasn't even aware of the ambulance staff approaching as he cradled her as best he could and continued to search her for any signs, good or bad, of her condition.
"Rick," he heard a voice say, "We gotta get in to take a look." He looked over his shoulder and saw his friend Bob Stookey attempting to nudge his way past him and Shane to examine the girl. Reluctantly, he moved aside with a parting kiss to her forehead and a promise to be right behind Bob the whole time.
As Bob moved to take his place, he suddenly remembered Carl and turned to look for his teenage son. He spotted the boy trembling and, though his first inclination was to lay into him for whatever could have possibly led to his sister's injuries, he softened at the sight of his his guilt stricken eyes. He reached out and pulled the boy by the arm into a strong embrace, clutching the back of his head against his chest.
"I'm sorry, Dad," Carl mumbled into Rick's khaki colored uniform shirt, already damp with Judy's tears.
Rick pulled away, glancing at Judith who seemed to be breathing a little easier due to Bob's friendly grin and knack for dealing with young patients. "How did this happen?" he asked, looking back at his son and trying his best to keep his frayed nerves from showing in his voice.
"We were arguing," Carl confessed. "She got mad and pulled out of my hand, and before I knew it she was off the curb and in the street. The guy didn't have a chance to stop."
Rick returned his gaze to the man whom he had deduced was the driver, content to see Shane was questioning him at the moment. "Arguin' about what?" he asked with exasperation. "She's seven, Carl. What could be so important to fight with her about?"
"I wasn't fighting...she was mad at me 'cause I said she wasn't going to be the youngest anymore once Michonne has the baby." He hung his head as he spoke, obviously aware of how the story sounded after the fact.
"Carl!" Rick said, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinching hard.
"I didn't know she'd get so mad, dad. I was just giving her a hard time."
Rick shook his head at the ground and took a deep breath, steadying the rapid pace that was starting to over take his heartbeat. "I have to call Michonne," he said, suddenly. The realization had wrenched him from the conversation and straight into his own head, running through how he was going to tell her about this. "This isn't over," he said to Carl, before turning back to Bob and his partner who were standing from the ground.
"How is she?" he asked, his temporary anger swinging back toward fear, like a lurching ship that threatened to make him seasick.
"I think she's got a concussion," Bob said, "and her arm is definitely broken. We're gonna transport her to the hospital."
"Ok," he agreed, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He dropped back down to his knee as Bob's partner wheeled the gurney from the back of the ambulance over to where she lay. "Judy, we're gonna get to ride in the back of the ambulance," he said, with all of the serenity he could muster. "Isn't that exciting?"
Judy nodded her head as Rick scooped an arm under her legs and the other around her shoulders, careful of her new, temporary sling. "Are you coming with me?" she asked, clutching his shirt as he tried to set her on the rolling bed. "Of course, baby. Let Bob strap you in, ok? Carl will walk with you. I just have to call your mama. She's gonna want to come to the hospital right away to see you. I'll be right there."
"Ok, daddy," she sniffled, releasing him and looking cautiously at Bob who was waiting behind him to take over.
Shane approached them then, laying a hand on Judith's knee and giving her a comforting smile. "Be a big girl, Judy, ok? Everything is gonna be just fine."
"You got this?" Rick asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket and turning his shoulder to talk to Shane privately.
"Ain't much to get, brother. Pretty straight forward. Guy is shaken up, but there's no need to take him in. It was just an accident."
"Alright," Rick agreed, slightly disheartened that there would be no one to bear the brunt of the anger building in his chest, but confident in his partner's assessment. "Listen, can you get somebody else down here to clear this scene? I need you to do something for me."
"Of course, man. What is it?"
"I gotta call Michonne," he said holding his phone up for emphasis. "I don't want her driving down there."
"Say no more, Rick. I'll call Leon down here, and I'll go get her myself."
"Thank you, Shane."
Shane clapped a hand on Rick's shoulder, turning back to the cruiser to call in their back up and head off to the courthouse, while Rick used a shaky hand to dial his wife's number. He pressed the buttons that would connect them, and leaned against a parked car in the blazing hot sun, praying she would answer right away.
He got his wish when, after the second ring, her cheery voice greeted him, blissfully unaware of the reason for his midday call.
"Michonne," he croaked out, the tremble in his voice surprising him. "Judy's been in an accident."
