Reunion
Summary: Rick has some time to reflect on his life, and his family, while he waits for Michonne and Carl to return from gathering supplies.
Then we move on to the more pressing questions: Will Michonne be any good at first aid? Will Rick finally confess his true feelings? Will Carl ever get to eat Crazy Cheese?
…..
Chapter 4 – Someone to Share the Burden
A low rumble pulled Rick from his sleep. He blinked his eyes slowly, trying to decide if the noise had come from his fast-receding dream or from something more immediate.
He rubbed his hands over his face, wincing at the sudden pain from the bruising around his temple, and opened his eyes. He was laying in the upstairs bedroom in the house he and Carl had found, waiting for Carl and Michonne to return.
He heard the distant noise again and realized that it was only thunder.
Moving stiffly, Rick sat up and reached for the broken watch band on the bedside table. He was usually a light sleeper but this time he'd been out cold and he had no idea how long he'd been lying there.
It was about a quarter 'til noon. Carl and Michonne should be back soon.
Rick picked up the plastic water bottle. He poured some water into his good left hand and splashed it on his face to wake himself up, then drank the rest and made his way down to the front of the house.
The street was quiet, empty. The sky was looking more and more overcast, the kind of clouds that made all the overgrown grass and trees look even greener than usual.
He leaned on the porch railing, keeping a watchful eye out for Michonne and Carl.
A strange feeling of deja-vu came over Rick. Suddenly he remembered a snippet of what he'd been dreaming before the thunder woke him.
In the dream, Rick stood right there on the porch, the same way he had a few hours earlier. His son and his friend stood in front of him, just as they had this morning. Beyond that, the dream memory diverged from reality.
Instead of his revolver, Rick handed Carl a packed lunch in a brown paper bag. Instead of a holster strapped to his leg, Carl wore a backpack full of school books. Instead of his battered old Sherriff's hat, the boy wore a new baseball cap.
Carl smiled up at him, "Thanks, Dad."
"Have a good day, buddy," Rick said, patting Carl's shoulder.
Michonne followed Carl down the steps. Instead of a sword and empty duffle bags to fill with food and medicine, she carried a big poster board for Carl's latest school project.
Before they turned and made their way down the driveway, Carl stopped and waved back at Rick, "See ya later!"
Michonne almost dropped the awkwardly large poster board, but then got a better grip on it. She grinned and gave Rick a cute wink.
Rick laughed and waved back, leaning forward against the porch railing. He watched them walk to the bus stop together, laughing over something from the latest comic books Michonne had picked up.
Rick blinked and reluctantly brought himself back to the present.
He didn't usually let himself entertain thoughts of what might have been or what things might be like, in a different world. It was no use daydreaming about the impossible, but this time he found himself smiling at the image of the three of them building a little family together.
The wind began to pick up and Rick spotted two squirrels chasing each other up and around the tree trunk, chattering away. If Daryl were here, we'd be eating roasted squirrel right now.
That thought hit him like a cold splash of water. If anyone else was to have made it out of the prison, it would have been the surly redneck, right? No, Daryl's the type to go down fighting. He was ready to die fighting the night the farm fell. He's gone now.
Rick felt the sadness creeping up, pulling on his arms, pushing his head down.
"No," he whispered, hands gripping the porch railing so tight that his knuckles went white.
He said it again, more firmly, "No."
I'm done looking back. Daryl, Glenn, little Judith…Lori…Shane. They're all gone. I loved them and now they're gone...But I can't go back.
Rick lifted his head and stood up straighter. I'm done killing myself with guilt. Done taking breaks.
Thunder rumbled again long and low somewhere in the distance and the wind picked up, swirling leaves across the yard.
Another glance at his watch told him that it was now 12:08. Worried, Rick looked down the street again. There was still no sign of Carl or Michonne.
Don't worry just yet, he told himself. They only had the sun to judge the passing time by and that was quickly disappearing behind dark clouds.
These days, storms can be both a blessing and a curse. Fresh water is hard to come by without rain and, if the storm is loud enough, it will confuse any nearby walkers, sending them wandering off in random directions. Even so, it could be dangerous to be caught without shelter.
Rick abandoned his post by the door and walked cautiously out into the middle of the street.
No sign of walkers. No sign of Carl and Michonne. The minutes trudged by.
Is that them? Rick squinted to see two figures approaching around the bend in the street.
As they drew closer, the taller one raised a hand in greeting, which Rick returned, smiling in relief.
A jagged bolt of lightning cracked open the sky and the following boom making him flinch. It sounded close. He started walking towards Michonne and Carl as they picked up their pace.
"Here, this is for you," Michonne said by way of greeting, handing the largest canvas bag to Rick.
"Have any trouble?" Rick asked, apprehensively noting the blood splatters across her shirt.
"I got a little more than I bargained for at the last house," she admitted, "but nothing I couldn't handle."
Rick slung the black strap over his shoulder. It was heavier than it looked.
Turning to walk beside Carl, he asked, "You okay?"
Carl nodded, "I'm okay. Used your last bullets though."
His words were almost drowned out by a boom of thunder. All at once the sky opened up and huge raindrops filled the air. The three survivors broke into a run, as best they could while burdened with heavy bags slung over their shoulders.
Carl got to the door first and shoved it wide open, everyone piling inside to get out of the drenching rain. Rick pushed the door closed behind them before the wind could blow any more rain inside. They all dropped their bags on the ground and caught their breath.
"Oh! That was refreshing!" Michonne said, shaking her head vigorously, her long hair spraying water drops all around.
"Hey! Watch out!" Carl exclaimed, putting his hands up in a vain effort to block the water.
"Carl, this is the only way I can dry my hair," she said matter-of-factly, before shaking her head once more.
"No it's not!" Carl laughed, ducking behind Rick, "Michonne! Stop!"
"Stop! Hey!" Rick protested, laughing out loud.
She finally stopped and wiped the water from her face. She grinned, feeling incredibly pleased that she'd made them both laugh. Rick had one hand pressed against his aching ribs.
"You're looking better," Michonne told Rick, looking him over. He'd washed most of the dried blood off his face and found a clean shirt while they were gone.
She found it rather endearing when his hair got messed up and stray curls fell into his face. She looked away before she could follow that thought any further.
"Come on, help me push this back up," she told Carl, moving to push the couch to block the door again.
"Find anything good?" Rick asked, nudging a bag with his foot.
"Yeah, we got a couple boxes of energy bars, some spare batteries, flashlights," Michonne said.
"Some crazy cheese," Carl added, smiling up at her.
"That one's first aid stuff," she told Rick, pointing to the large bag that he'd carried in, which he now noticed had EMS stenciled on the side.
"You'd better let me take a look at you," she told him, meeting his eyes, hoping he wouldn't protest.
Rick considered this. All things considered, having Michonne give me first aid is certainly not the worst thing that could happen. He gave her a small nod of assent.
Taking a look in the EMS bag, Rick saw that it appeared to be fully stocked.
He added, "I'm surprised no one got to this, after all this time."
"Not really…" Carl said to himself. You didn't see all the walkers surrounding it.
Carl set about taking inventory of their gathered supplies.
During the winter after they left the farm, he and Beth developed a strategy that involved dumping everything out on the floor, sorting out the food into rations, and then making sure the other bags have a good mix of useful items.
Don't put all your eggs in one basket, like Beth said. Carl paused in his work, listening to Michonne taking his dad upstairs with the first aid kit. I wonder if Beth made it out. She was always with Judith…
Carl clenched his fists and blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. No. Don't think about that now.
You have a job to do.
…
"Michonne! What happened?" Rick suddenly asked, grabbing her arm.
"What?" she asked, startled, trying to see what he was looking at.
Sure enough, her shirt was torn and there was fresh blood on her shoulder. It was her blood.
"Did you-" Rick cut himself off before he finished that question. No way she got bit. She would say something. Right?
"Relax! It's nothing," Michonne said, noting the panic in Rick's eyes, "I scraped my arm against a fence back there. Didn't realize it was cut."
Rick felt his heart start beating again. He dropped his hand.
"You're sure you're okay?" he was still worried.
"It's just a scrape. I'm okay, really," she assured him, carefully looking at her shoulder.
Michonne changed the topic, "You're still the patient here, remember?"
"Alright," Rick reluctantly agreed and sat on the side of the bed.
Michonne put the EMT bag next to him and started unpacking things, setting them out on the bedside table. There were gloves, masks, gauze of all shapes and sizes, sterile wipes, IV bags, and an assortment of medicines, sharp scissors, tape, disinfectant, and bandages.
"Okay," Michonne said, "First step, assess the injuries."
At this point Rick wasn't sure if she was talking to him or to herself, so he didn't say anything.
Michonne leaned in close, her face frowning in concentration. Rick held perfectly still. Her fingers gently brushed across his forehead, under his eye, taking in the cuts and bruises that marked his skin, pushed a stray piece of hair back behind his ear.
"I think the swelling is less today," she said, pulling back, "How's your side?"
"Pretty sore," he admitted.
"I already bound it up," he added, lifting up his shirt to show the makeshift bandage that he'd torn from a spare sheet. His side was still red and badly bruised from where he'd been tackled by the Governor.
Michonne nodded approvingly, "It'll probably be sore for a couple days but I don't think anything's broken, or you wouldn't be walking around the way you are."
She watched as he tugged his shirt back down over the bandage. He was not looking forward to what was coming next. The throbbing pain in his leg wasn't as bad when he didn't look at it, or think about it, or touch it.
"And your leg…" Michonne said, right on cue.
Gritting his teeth, Rick managed to carefully untie the bandana that he'd used to stop the bleeding where the bullet had grazed his leg, hoping that would be good enough.
"Gotta take 'em off," she said with a sympathetic grimace.
Rick stood up and awkwardly began to undo his belt. Belatedly realizing how uncomfortable the situation was about to become, Michonne turned her back, pretending to look for something on the table. She waited a little while before peeking back to see Rick, now down to his T-shirt and boxers, drop his gun belt and his torn jeans at the end of the bed and sit back down.
There was a lot of dried blood around the shallow gash in his thigh. Michonne examined the wound with a worried expression, hesitant to touch it just yet. He probably needed stitches, but that was quite outside her realm of experience.
"I think all I can do is clean it up and give you a new bandage," she told him.
Rick took a deep breath, "Okay." This was going to hurt, but he knew that with a proper bandage he would heal much more quickly.
"Alright, now it's time for the next step of first aid," Michonne narrated, looking through the medicines lined up on the night stand and picking the one she wanted.
"And what is that?" Rick asked slowly.
"Step two…" Michonne held up a small dark colored bottle, a glint in her eye, "Morphine!"
Rick cracked a smile at that news, "Alright, doc, get to work."
Michonne unscrewed the cap and began to pour the clear liquid into a tiny plastic cup, saying, "I don't have any idea how much is too much, so we'll start with a little bit and see how that feels, okay?"
"Okay," he agreed. That's probably best. I don't want to be totally passed out in case there's trouble and we need to run again.
Rick took the proffered cup and downed the bitter medicine in one shot. Michonne put the canvas bag on the ground and instructed Rick to lie down. She cleaned off the dried blood as gently as she could.
Fingers laced behind his head, Rick stared up at the ceiling, focused on keeping his breath even.
"How are you feeling?"
Truthfully, he felt rather dazed. The morphine seemed to be kicking in, softening the pounding in his head and the dull ache through the rest of his body that he'd lived with the last two days. Still, the pressure on his injured leg was creating a sharper pain.
"I think I'll have a little more, doc," he sat up unhurriedly, trying to distract himself by teasing Michonne a little bit.
She poured him a little more medicine this time and let that sink in for a few minutes before moving to wrap his leg tightly in a clean white bandage. Her job for the most part done, Michonne cleaned her hands and then tossed the trash into an empty hamper.
Rick's eyes were growing very heavy. He could hardly feel the pain in his leg, or his side, or any of it for that matter. He felt light but also slow, like he was lying on the softest bed in the world and couldn't imagine wanting to move.
"Mi…Michonne…" his voice came out sluggishly, indistinctly.
"Hmm?" she sat down beside him, balanced on the edge of the bed.
"Thank you, Michonne," Rick said slowly.
"No problem," she replied.
"No, thank you, for being here," he said, his voice quiet but clear.
She opened her mouth to respond, where else does he think I would be? but he reached out and closed his hand over hers and she stayed quiet.
"Thank you for being here," Rick continued, his blue eyes thoughtful, "for being who you are. Ya know, Michonne, I think you always show up right when I need you most. I never realized it before, but I think that's how it is. Every single time."
He was quiet for a moment and she almost thought he'd fallen asleep but his voice came softly, "You saved me."
Michonne tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She laced her fingers through his and held his hand tightly. She looked away, staring out the bedroom window, rain streaming against the glass.
Her voice barely above a whisper, she said, "Rick, you saved me too."
She turned her head back to look at Rick. Now he was definitely asleep.
…
TBC!