A/N: Nice long chapter for you guys :) Hope you enjoy it! This chapter comes with a bit of a trigger warning, it details some of the abuse Romilly has suffered. So what are you all thinking of her so far? How's my Rick (and the other characters which are introduced in this chapter!)?
Thank you to everyone who is reading this story and adding it to their alerts. A special thank you to those who are reviewing and messaging me; it makes me so happy that you are liking it. There really is a shortage of Rick/OC fics out there! Seriously, this story is one of the top ones if you search Rick/OC pairings by reviews, which just goes to show how few there are.
Thanks to my beta, Calcifer179. He had a huge hand in developing this story and you should check out his stuff :)
Anyway, please R&R and I'll keep going with these updates! I have two little boys and they keep me very busy, but I'm happy to prioritise this story over my other ones if you are all loving it :D
4.
Take Me I'm Alive, Never Was A Girl With A Wicked Mind.
"Is that Rick?!" Andrea gasped, staring down the scope of the rifle towards the figures emerging through the trees across the field.
"Don't shoot Andrea!" Glenn joked, a smile etching its way across his fine face, "He probably isn't a Walker."
"Believe me I have learned to control my itchy trigger finger…Wait, he's not alone!"
"What?" Glenn stepped forward to the edge of the RV's roof, peering in the direction of the approaching figures through his binoculars. The larger shape moving slowly towards their camping area did appear to be the sheriff, although he moved without his usual ease, ambling forwards in a tired and stilted fashion. A second figure emerged from behind him, although their identity was obscured by bright reflections of light thanks to the suns low position.
"Is he a Walker?"
"I'm not sure," Glenn replied, biting his lip, "We should go and get the others."
Andrea handed him the gun and climbed down the RV ladder effortlessly, setting off at a run towards the group of tents. Within moments Glenn heard the steady rise of voices, a mixture of concern and excitement, and the group appeared around the side of the camper, Lori leading the way as she jogged towards the duo making their way across the field.
Glenn hopped agilely off the RV roof, his feet barely touching the ladder, and ran to catch up with the small crowd who were closing the distance between themselves and the figures.
"Lori! Carl!" A tortured voice cried out, Rick's voice, and the man ran to his family, embracing them in a way not dissimilar to how their initial reunion had been. It was impossible to differentiate the individual voices of the group as they swarmed Rick, clapping him on the back and pulling him into quick hugs, thankful that he had returned seemingly unharmed.
"Where's Shane? Daryl?" Rick suddenly asked, staring around at the faces that greeted him.
"They're still out looking for you," Dale answered, smiling warmly at their leader, "They'll be back by sundown. And happy to see you I can imagine!"
"I'm just so glad you're okay," Lori murmured, breathing in her husband's scent and hiding her tears in his shirt collar.
"Uh Rick, who's that?" T-Dog questioned, gesturing one large hand towards the person who stood several paces away. The group, in their happiness, had momentarily forgotten the presence of a stranger, but now as one they all turned to face the woman.
"This is Romilly," Rick replied, detangling himself from his wife and son and cautiously approaching the girl. The gathered crowd eyed her with curiousity and surprise, taking in her dirty and bloody form, her thin and tall figure…
"Is she…is she okay?" Carol stammered, taking a tentative step towards the woman, which resulted in her backing up even further, staring at Rick with wide unblinking eyes, as if looking for help.
"I don't know," Rick answered truthfully, "She isn't bitten though."
"What's wrong with your hands?" Carl asked the woman pointedly, but Rick silenced him with a shake of his head. He didn't need the group panicking about the mess that was currently obscured by Romilly's bandages.
"We'll get you up to the house," T-Dog pronounced, moving to grab the woman's arm. Romilly all but jumped backwards, snarling viciously and wrapping her arms defensively around her slight body.
The man let his arm drop, staring at Rick with unspoken questions flittering through his brown eyes. All Rick could do was shrug and walk towards her carefully, knowing that the girl's metaphorical hackles were most certainly raised as her gaze moved back and forth from each member of the group, and her lip rose in a grimace.
"Romilly…honey…I'll take you up to the house. We need to get you looked at okay?" Rick spoke each word patiently, reaching out to the woman, but not touching her. To his surprise she moved quickly towards him, ducking her head under his arm and pressing her body up against his.
She was almost the exact same height as him, so it was no stretch for her to lean into his frame, her cracked lips brushing his ear as she whispered;
"Help me."
"She's severely dehydrated and starved…I wouldn't be surprised if she was close to organ failure. Kidneys, liver…We won't know for sure until she starts eating and drinking normally."
"How long? How long has she been like this?"
Hershel sighed and rubbed the side of his face wearily. After he had tried to calmly examine the woman, resulting in her physically lashing out at the older man, her futile attempts at scratching him thwarted by Glenn and T-Dog, they had been forced to restrain her while Hershel injected her with a sedative. Rick had winced when the woman's desperate cries had fallen short and her head had slumped against her shoulder, arms strapped to the sides of the bed in a crude fashion. He had expected this, she barely allowed him to touch her, let alone anyone else. But it needed to be done; he wasn't having her succumbing to infection, not while he was able to help her.
Hershel had worked fast, getting Patricia to clean various parts of her body so he could inspect the cuts and wounds that littered her skin. After a short time he had sent Rick and the other men out, keeping only Maggie and Patricia by his side, explaining to the sheriff in a brief manner that he wanted to maintain what little dignity the woman had left. Rick knew he was checking her for internal damage, checking her for signs of rape…
"It's hard to say. I'd be guessing over three months given her physical, and emotional, state. This poor girl has been through it all Rick. Her hands…I've never seen anything like it…" The farmer stopped, unable to finish his sentence, and a pained looked twisted his features.
"What?"
"It would be bad enough if her fingers had just been cut off Rick, but they…they've been bitten off."
"What?!" Rick repeated, his stomach contorting in an uncontrollable fashion, bile rising to his throat, at the thought of someone biting into another human's flesh.
"There are teeth marks, torn flesh…It's not right Rick. I can't begin to image what she has been through."
"Will she be okay?"
"I can patch her up, the cuts on her body and her hands will heal in time. She has definitely experienced sexual assault, numerous times it appears and recently, I'm just thankful she isn't pregnant. But even her internal damage and any damage caused by starvation will repair itself eventually. But mentally? Emotionally? She's scarred for life. I would think you have dealt with victims of abuse before…"
"Never like this…"
"No, never like this. This is something else. You're the only one she trusts Rick, and frankly she could turn on anyone in a second. I stitched her bigger lacerations, cleaned her hands up…Really I've done all I can except monitor her for infection. I don't know what your plans are for her, but I won't have her in my house unless she is sedated or being watched over by you. I can't risk the safety of my girls. Do you understand?" The white haired man turned from where he was standing in the hallway so he faced Rick directly, meeting his eye with a hardened stare.
"That's fair," Rick agreed, nodding, "For the best until we know for sure she isn't a danger."
"Good. Now let's get you checked out. I think you have a touch of sunstroke. Plenty of rest and fluids…"
The sheriff zoned out of Hershel's chatter, his eyes unmoving from the bedroom door down the hall, his thoughts unable to drift from the girl who lay on the bed beyond the door. The girl who'd been to Hell and back.
Rick raised his upper body off the inflatable camping mattress, a bead of perspiration appearing at his brow at the minor movement. He hadn't realised how tired he was until after Hershel had completed his examination and he'd finally clambered into the tent he shared with his family. Lori had helped him undress, her hands skating over the flat planes of his stomach and the sinuous muscles in his arms gently before he'd slid under the sheet and taken the opportunity to sleep. His sleep was disturbed however, disrupted by dreams of chains and blood, dirt and heat and an unbearable, overwhelming sense of fear and pain.
He'd woken suddenly when a voice had called out his name, and despite his fatigue he was thankful that he no longer faced the nightmares that had been plaguing him.
Carl entered the tent hurriedly, a small grin on his round face. Rick realised, not for the first time, how much his son had grown up in the last couple of months. The apocalypse did nothing if not make men out of boys. "And monsters out of men," he thought morosely, his thoughts once again returning to Romilly and everything she had been through.
"Dad! You're awake," Carl said, his grin widening.
"Yes, yes. I'm awake now."
"Sorry," the young boy shrugged, "It's just…Shane and Daryl are back…"
"Okay, I'm getting up. You tell 'em I'll be out in a minute."
Carl nodded, the smile still not leaving his face, obviously thrilled his father was back with him and Rick sighed heavily as he dragged his body off the mattress, pulling on a clean set of clothes, his sheriffs outfit, which Lori had kindly thought to leave out for him. He gulped down a bottle of overly warm water hurriedly and ran his fingers through his greying dark hair. He knew of the entire group that Shane would be the least likely to welcome Romilly, he'd been…well different for weeks now. Since the incident at the barn he seemed to have mellowed a fraction, perhaps thankful that Hershel had finally relented and agreed to let the group stay longer, but he was still Shane Walsh, and a harder, fiercer Shane Walsh than Rick had ever known back in their previous life. In some ways the sheriff's deputy was just as volatile as the girl in the house tied to the bed, and Rick wasn't about to have him create more issues than the ones he already faced.
Shane's face was the first one Rick saw when he exited the tent, the sun now low in the sky, and he watched as a mixture of emotions ranging from relief to anger surged their way across the man's heavy features.
"Thank God!" He yelled, despite the twitch of frustration that didn't go unmissed by Rick, "Shit man, thought we'd lost you forever!"
"Just got turned around that's all. Took me a while to find my way back here."
"I'm glad you did man," Shane replied, giving Rick a quick one-armed hug, his tone a little too flat for Rick's liking.
A throat cleared from behind them and Rick turned to face Daryl, who was eyeing him with his usual keen scrutiny. Dixon had two looks; one was for observation and one was for anger.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired. Thanks for looking for me, both you." Rick nodded to both men in turn.
"Ya'd do it for us," Daryl shrugged. Rick smiled slightly, forever surprised by the hot-headed redneck. After he had been forced to put Sophia down, and all their dreams of finding her alive had been dashed, Daryl had seemed to take it harder than almost anyone, withdrawing from the group and moving his tent away. The fact that he had gone back into those woods to search for him touched Rick more than he could say, and he would bet good money that Daryl preferred it to go unsaid anyway.
"'Sides, ya kid wouldn't stop pestering me," the hunter stated, a small smirk quirking his lip.
"Yeah I'll bet," Rick chuckled.
"Lori said that you brought someone back with you." Shane's voice intruded upon the conversation like a roll of thunder, "Are they safe?"
"Depends what you mean by safe I guess," Rick sighed wearily, "She's pretty torn up, doesn't like people much…" The sheriff turned to face both Shane and Daryl, the latter of whom was staring at Rick blankly, "This stays between us and Hershel, but the poor girl has been through it all. Raped, tortured. A few of her fingers were actually bitten off." He lowered his voice at the last sentence, unable to keep his tone even.
"Bitten off? Not by Walkers? Man you did not bring someone who is infected into our camp?!" Shane hissed.
Rick shook his head mutely and watched both the men's faces grimace in disgust when they gathered the meaning of his unspoken words.
"Oh Hell, that's sick."
"You're telling me. Hershel thinks she was being held captive for months; she may have a lot of long term damage done, both mentally and physically. But I couldn't just leave her out there could I? Leave her out there to die…"
Daryl nodded in agreement, still looking slightly sickened.
"Rick you couldn't just bring her back here either, she'll be volatile, potentially dangerous. You willing to put everyone's lives at risk for some girl you don't even know?"
"She is one, sick young woman. What can she do to the group of us?"
Shane stepped towards Rick so their gazes were level;
"You didn't think that maybe those whack jobs that were keeping her prisoner might come looking for her? That maybe she is something they want?"
The man's face fell at his friends words, the realisation that he indeed may have risked all their lives finally hitting him like a tonne of bricks.
"Rick! Rick, you have to come," Carol called, approaching the men at an ambling run.
"What is it?" He replied, turning his back on Shane, in truth unable to look him in the eye after understanding the risk he had taken.
"Romilly is awake, she's asking for you."
Daryl had shrugged and headed back to his tent, apparently disinterested in the arrival of a newcomer to their group, but Shane tailed Rick closely as they headed up to the farm house, practically treading on the sheriff's heels.
Romilly was resting in the room that Daryl had been in after his accident during the search for Sophia, so Rick took the stairs two at a time, hearing the woman's husky voice echoing throughout the house as he neared the bedroom;
"I need to see Rick! Bring him here!"
"He'll be here soon; you need to get back into bed and rest." That was Maggie's voice whirling down the staircase, a slight edge of panic tainting her genuine words.
"Fuck off bitch, I will destroy you." Rick could hear the venom in Romilly's voice and he broke into a run, Shane dogging his every step.
He entered the bedroom in a flurry of movement, expecting the worst, and was confronted with the image of Maggie edging away from the bed, her back to Rick and Shane, and Romilly, who was standing next to the other side of the queen-sized bed, her hair dreaded around her face like a bird's nest and her eyes wide with unadulterated fear and rage. Maggie backed straight into the sheriff, spinning around to face him with a look of surprise and then relief. She muttered something under her breath and quickly ducked around him and Shane, who was now standing in the doorway, surveying the room, a vein throbbing lightly in his neck as he tightened his grip on the door frame;
"So this is what you've brought into our camp, Rick?"
Romilly hissed and narrowed her eyes before appraising Rick carefully, as if to make sure he was really there. Apart from the areas on her body that had needed to be stitched and bandaged she was just as filthy as when he had first seen her and he felt surprisingly annoyed that no one had bothered to clean her up while she had been out cold. The ratty grey shirt hung from one bony shoulder, revealing the dip of her collar bone and the sallowness of her skin. Despite his instincts, which told him that this girl was nothing but the poor victim of horrible circumstance and a good soul underneath it all, he could see why Shane was so angry, so fearful. She looked like some kind of hellish skeleton as she lurched around the bed, moving with a speed Rick hadn't known she'd possessed. To his shock she tucked herself under his arm, pressing one neatly bandaged hand against his chest and moved flush against his body.
"Although she seems to like you well enough," Shane chuckled, still not taking his eyes off the girl as she glared thoroughly at him and made a sound not dissimilar to a low growl.
"Shane I think it's best you leave, for now at least. Let me talk to Romilly, calm her down. She was just afraid when she woke up and I wasn't here," Rick urged, unsure of whether to touch the woman in response to her clinginess so instead letting his arms lay limply by his sides.
Shane raised an eyebrow, almost in amusement and sighed before leaving the room without further comment. As soon as he had disappeared from sight, Romilly leapt away from Rick skittishly, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed.
"Romilly, you can't just talk to people like that…like how you talked to Maggie."
"She was trying to tie me up Rick, to tie my hands to the bed…" she gestured wildly to the loose bonds that decorated either side of the mattress and Rick felt the guilt rise in him again. He knew it had only been precautionary, he knew that when Romilly had started stirring poor Maggie and Carol, who had been watching over her had likely panicked, unsure of what to do and just wanting to protect themselves. But while keeping her restrained had been ideal so Hershel could sedate her it was just a horrible trigger for her when she was awake. He understood why the woman had reacted the way she did, just as he understood why Maggie had attempted to tie her hands. And he felt torn, horribly torn.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, changing the subject and crossing his arms over himself. He watched as Romilly hopped from one bare foot to the other, completely on edge and she cocked her head to one side, not unlike a sparrow would;
"I guess I feel about as good as I look." She managed to flash him a grin, although it cracked her lips and distorted her thin face horribly.
"Do you…do you want to get cleaned up? Have a shower or a bath? I'm sure Hershel wouldn't mind…" He almost saw her ears prick up at the suggestion of bathing and she nodded enthusiastically.
"Okay, I'll have to go and get one of the women…"
Romilly snarled a no, her hand reaching down to clutch the blanket on the bed comfortingly;
"I can wash myself Rick, I'm not a baby."
"Your bandages…Romilly, you'll need help."
"I'm not having a stranger in there with me. I just can't." Rick thought for a moment about how he was glad that she was finally conversing properly with him, some real sense of humanity still in her voice despite the animalistic sounds that were never far from her lips.
"I can help you, if you'll let me," he offered, before he even had time to consider what he had just suggested. She cocked her head again, deliberating and he could guess she was weighing the pros and cons in her mind, figuring out how much being clean was really worth.
Eventually the young woman nodded mutely and Rick smiled thinly, wondering what way was best to approach the situation;
"I'll just have to go speak to someone…"
Romilly's nostrils flared and her grip on the blanket tightened, Rick guessed she was one more gentle suggestion away from actually clutching it to her chest like a security item.
"I just need to make sure it's okay with Hershel, get you clothes and towels. Will you be okay here?"
The woman nodded again, and remained standing as she watched the sheriff head out of the room, nearly colliding into the small group that had gathered at the top of the stairs.
Hershel stood, staring Rick down with a blank expression on his face. Beth peered from behind him and Shane was leaning with his back against the wall, a mixture of concern and genuine fear crossing his face. Further down the stairs Rick saw both Lori and Carol staring up at him in confusion and the man gritted his teeth. Romilly was unpredictable, yes, but rightly so and certainly no more dangerous than Daryl Dixon had been back at the quarry before everything had happened. The apparent distaste everyone was showing for her upset him more than he cared to admit.
