A/N: This chapter has references to the phone call Rick hallucinated after Lori's death. Too bad I can't make a "previously on Walking Dead" section here. This is gonna be a bit angsty.
XXXIV.
Blood, so much blood, there was so much fucking blood.
His eyes red and pricking, Rick carried her to the infirmary, running, as Amanda stayed folded in his arms, crying and groaning with pain—"Baby, hold on—" he murmured at her, bowing his head closer to her ear, "just hold on."
She brought a hand covered with her blood up and fisted it in his shirt. His eyes stared at it as if in a dream. This… this couldn't be happening to them. It could not. "M-my baby—" Amanda groaned out, her face twisted with pain, tears overflowing over her cheeks like a flood, leaving salty stains... "…my baby…" she repeated it like a mantra between her pained groans, "m-my b—baby—"
His eyes were burning—burning so much. "It's gonna be okay," Rick forced out, words stuck inside his tight throat like beads of glass, broken and shaken, and meaningless. It was never gonna be okay…never. But he was trying… they were both trying… their baby. "Baby, hold on—" he repeated then, "baby, just hold on."
In answer, Amanda only cried more, her hand tightened at his shirt.
Rick wanted to kill the bastard again. His eyes lowered and struck he looked at her groin, the blood still pouring out of her freely, sticky and warm, wetting her dark trousers with darker stains… so much blood. It was so hard to breath… his chest was so tight—and so cold. There was so much fucking blood. He climbed the steps as fast as he could as Beth and Daryl followed him at his hell, Maggie close behind, fear and shock coloring their faces as hard as his. The doctor… Rick then realized. Amanda needed a doctor, and he'd just killed the only one in the town.
The same man who had put her into this condition.
It must have been a sick joke, a sick, cruel joke.
"Maggie!" he called at the bigger Greene. Maggie had made the caesarian on Lori—she'd been working with her father and Carol before. She should know something. "There's so much blood—" Rick told her as they stepped inside, Beth following them closely. His voice was a low whisper too, so Amanda couldn't hear it, "Is it normal?"
Skipping her eyes, Maggie gave him a look. Fear caught him even further, like cold fingers gripping his chest—freezing his heart… Why she was bleeding so heavily? At best she was only pregnant a week. She shouldn't have been bleeding this much. It'd started a few drops at her crotch at first as she crossed her legs, letting out a scream, but before she collapsed on the ground her groin became fully covered with blood, now it was all over legs, leaving blood stains even over his shirt.
Maggie shook her head, her eyes turning to Amanda's legs, too. "I don't know—" the other woman said, "We—we should stop bleeding."
Running to the closest bed, where Tyrese still laid at the corner, Rick lowered her down as gently as he could. She twisted on her side as soon as he did, folding her legs again, and placed her hands between her legs, her head tucked down at her chest, still crying…moaning. Like a man stuck at his heart, Rick stared at her again. It hurt, it hurt so much. Seeing her like that—a fury was building inside him—a hot, scorching fury—killing the bastard wasn't enough—he—he should've done much more—he wanted to do much more… She—she believed in him, she trusted him, she wanted to have his child, he wanted her to have his child—create another life with him… he could still do this… he could still… but he couldn't. He just couldn't. The baby was gone, Amanda was bleeding—bleeding herself inside to out—he couldn't do anything to stop it… He'd done nothing. He couldn't protect her, he couldn't protect the baby, and the baby—their baby was gone… He stopped—his breath stopped—what if, what if he lost Amanda too? No—no—No, no, he couldn't. He couldn't lose her, too. Not again. He could not live through that again. His eyes turned to Maggie.
As if understanding his unspoken order…plead, the older Green bent down on her. "We should get her on her back," she said and held Amanda at her shoulders.
Amanda trashed, shaking her shoulders to evade the hands in response, "L-leave me a-alone," she grunted with pain, folding herself even further.
Coming closer, Rick leaned on in her, too, "Baby—please—we need to—"
"No!" she cried out, snapping her head up, "Leave me—Arrghh!" she screamed, her face twisting again with pain as another cramp hit her.
"Amanda!" Rick yelled as Beth came closer to her, too. "Amanda, please," the younger woman implored as the same time he saw a blonde woman walking with Deanne in the infirmary.
Rick jolted up, "You—get out!" he hissed at the woman, rising his arm, "get the hell out!"
"Rick—" Deanne called at him, "It's not the time. Amanda needs help. This is Denise," she waved her hand to the other woman, "She was a psychiatrist before—" Rick stared at them.
"A psychiatrist?" he asked back. He was sure he'd seen the blond, slightly overweight woman in the pantry before. She looked anxious, almost jittery looking at them… especially at Amanda.
Deanne nodded. "Yes." She turned to the doctor, gestured with her head, "Denise, please."
Giving her a flittering look, the woman hesitantly started walking to the bed. "What happened?" she asked Rick, her eyes at Amanda as she stayed folded into like a ball on her side at the bed.
"She got kicked during the fight—twice," Rick explained, forcing out the words again. Twice… she got hit twice, and Rick had just watched it happen.
The psychiatrist nodded, looking at Amanda's stomach, "Uh—in which semester she's in?" she inquired.
"We—we just—five days at best," Rick answered. Surprised, the woman's head snapped up at him. He leaned in, "Is it normal?" he asked again, and whispered, "she—she's bleeding so much."
The psychiatrist shook her head, her eyes turning down at Amanda again, "Might be caused of the trauma." She leaned down and spoke to Amanda, "Amanda—we—uh—I need to examine you," she said, clearing her voice, "and stop the bleeding."
Amanda didn't make any sound, didn't even lift her head, she just continued crying, just like she'd been doing since she'd collapsed down. Beth leaned over her again, too, "Amanda, it's gonna be okay," she said, placing tentatively a hand at her shoulder.
Whether it was because the hand belonged to Beth or she just didn't care anymore, Amanda didn't shake it off. She just lay there, crying, her head bowed, not looking at them… and Rick just stayed there, too, his eyes riveted on her shaking, crying, in pain figure, and the fury inside him extinguished too, leaving only a desolated, barren ruins behind. Everything—everything was turning to a ruin at the end. Every fucking thing, and he was so tired now. the baby—their baby was going to be different. They were going to create something beautiful… They were—
What happened, Rick…? the low throaty voice over the static asked him in his mind as he looked at his soon to be wife. She was going to be his wife, they were going to have a baby, they were going to be a family—he was going to put it back together. He was-
"Leave," the doctor said, turning to them, "Give her some privacy." Rick still stayed where he was, though as the others started moving. The doctor gave him a look, "You, too. Please."
Rick shook his head. He wasn't going to leave her. Not this time. He should be there for her. He should've been there for her—he couldn't. He should've protected her—he couldn't. She couldn't be alone… not again… God…not again, please, not again… His eyes were burning—so much…so fucking much… What happened, Rick?
Turning to him, Beth placed her hand on his arm this time. "Rick, please," the younger woman said, turning him away from Amanda. "Denise is right." Daryl took his other arm, too, "Please."
His eyes skipped at Amanda as she lay there still motionless, drawn into her—and finally, he curtly nodded. He turned, but before they started walking out, Amanda's rough voice stopped them.
"Beth—" Amanda whispered her name so silent he could barely hear it, but then she pulled up her hand between her legs and raised it up half in the air.
Next to him, Beth started crying before she rushed to her friend's side and held her hand tightly. "I'm here," Beth told her over tears, "It's gonna be okay. We all gonna be okay."
Before he left the infirmary, he saw their fingers folded around each other.
Outside, he walked to the steps of the porch, and sat down. Deanna and Maggie stood away from him at the other side as he bowed his head, looking at his hands. They were covered with her blood, their baby's blood.
What happened, Rick…?
Daryl walked over to him, and sat down beside him, too. In silence, the other man fished out his cigarettes and pulled one. He offered one to him.
Still in silence, Rick took it and leaned down toward the light Daryl brought up. After the long years, Rick smoked his first cigarette.
He breathed a long drag in, took the smoke in his fingers, and let the smoke out slowly, his eyes staring at it. He wanted to put it back together. He'd found a place, he'd kept them safe, together… He wanted to—Only he couldn't.
He could never put it back together.
What happened, Rick…?
Tears followed in silence as Rick took another drag from the cigarette.
# # #
"Dad?" Carl asked, approaching to him as Rick still waited outside the porch. He was alone at the steps, Daryl had left half an hour ago. He'd wanted to check on Sam. Rick tried not to think over that. There was a horrified expression over Carl's face, his earlier indifference when Rick had told him about his second brother or sister was shaken, and Rick saw the boy he'd always known—his son, "The baby?" Carl asked, his voice breaking.
His eyes hurt again. He'd stopped crying, but his eyes still pricking. Looking at his son, Rick shook his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered.
Carl came to him, sitting down on the steps below him, and placed his head at Rick's lap. "I—I was happy when I heard it, dad," Carl whispered at him, "I'm sorry."
Rick nodded, pulling his son closer, wrapping his arm around his neck—and placed his head on his shoulder, too. They stayed in each other's embrace.
# # #
"I-uh—stopped the bleeding," the psychiatrist told them two hours later, fidgeting her hands, standing in front of them at the porch, "Sh—she's lost blood, but she's stable now."
"Why?" Rick asked, standing up from the steps, "Why did she lose that much blood?"
The woman shook her head. "I really can't tell it for sure. This—this isn't my profession. The bleeding stopped, though, so we-uh—we should be grateful for that." She paused, "But still be careful," she went on, "The first week after the miscarriages is vital, she wasn't in her months, but nevertheless, she should stay in the infirmary for two days. She should lay down for a while, too, and uh—uh I think—" Her eyes turned to Rick, glancing at Carl too in the meantime, "Uh—you shouldn't—uh-get intimidate at least for two weeks." She rolled her shoulder, "Just to be safe."
Understanding her point, Rick nodded. It wasn't like that they would have sex just after they lost their baby. In truth, he had no idea what to tell her now—how to talk to her. Rick knew how much Amanda wanted to have this baby, and he'd failed her.
The new doctor gave him another look, this time heavier. "I—I don't know exactly your situation, but she looked like she knew it? You—uh—planned it?"
"Yes!" Rick snapped, hearing it even from the new doctor tensed further his already frayed nerves, "Yes, we planned it, doctor."
The woman hurriedly shook her head. "I—I meant no offense. It's—I wanted to warn you," she explained, "It's very—uh—very usual that women having miscarriage develop a PTSD. She—she might have a hard time with dealing this."
Rick nodded. He already knew it. "Can I see her now?" he asked.
The doctor nodded back. "I mixed a mild sedative in her IV. She's sleeping now," the doctor said, "But yes, you can see her now."
Without another word to the doctor, he turned to his son. "Carl, you go back to home. Ask Carol if she can look after Judith for tonight. You stay with her, too."
Carl nodded. Rick turned, "Dad?" he stopped and turned back, "You—you can have another baby, it's—it's gonna be okay."
In silence, Rick looked at his son. He wanted to believe the words, he really did—but at the end, he just couldn't say anything. Nodding, he went inside, but he wasn't sure for what he'd made the gesture.
Beth was still at her side, holding her hand as she washed the blood off her arm with a sponge as Amanda lay on the bed, her eyes closed. She was clad in light blue scrubs now, a blanket loosely draped over her, wet hair stuck over her forehead. Rick felt another bullet pierced through him seeing her like that—peacefully sleeping as Beth washed the blood off her. Sensing him, Beth lifted her head up, and turned her head aside to give him a look. Rick walked to her. "Thank ya," he told the younger woman, "Thank ya, Beth," he repeated, and he wasn't sure for what he was thanking for, too.
But as if she'd understood, Beth shook her head. "She needs you, Rick," she told him back, "She needs you." And she'd asked you to stay, Rick passed in his mind, but stayed in silence. Beth extended him the sponge, "she does."
Rick looked at the sponge, and took it as Beth stood, and started leaving the infirmary. "Beth—" Tyreese called after her, "Beth—uh—can I come back to the house with you?"
Rick shook his head. "Tyreese—" he started, "You don't—"
The big man cut him off, "It's okay." He stopped, as Beth came to his side, and helped him back on his feet. He stopped before they stepped out, "It's going to be okay."
In silence, Rick nodded again. Everyone was telling him the same, but Rick couldn't see it how. He turned to Amanda when they were alone in the room. He'd wanted this, he'd so wanted this, wanted to put it back together—with her. He tried… With his empty hand, he pushed her hair back off her forehead, traced his fingers over her eyebrow— "I'm—sorry, baby, I'm truly sorry…" he whispered at her, leaning closer, and placed his forehead at her stomach, the sponge dropping his hand, "I tried—I really did."
He stayed there like that, his head over her stomach, her hand in his—
"Rick—?" he woke up the next morning with her rough, low voice calling him out.
He lifted his head up from her stomach and looked at her. They stared at each other for a while in silence, her hand still in his before he cleared his throat, straightening his back. "How do you feel?" he asked, forcing out through his tight throat.
"Did you sleep like that last night?"
Rick shrugged, but looked at her, her eyes fixated on his, too. They stared at each other again silently before her lips quavered, her chin twitched, and she blinked—She shook her head, and turning around, lay on her other side facing at wall.
"Amanda—" he softly called at her.
"Leave me alone," she murmured, her voice broken, shaking.
"Amanda…" he repeated, letting out a sigh out, "I—I should've protected you. It—it wasn't your—"
Craning her neck back at him to give him a seething look, she cut him off, "Don't fucking say it!" she hissed, tears welling inside her eyes, red and glazed, a fury flashing in the depths of her greens.
Rick held her gaze, and they looked at each other again for a second, then she shook her head, "Leave me alone, Rick," she repeated, the fire in her quenched, and she sounded—tired. She turned her back on him, "Just go."
"Amanda—"
"Just GO!" she shouted.
He closed his eyes—and gave out a half breath, standing up.
He knew he shouldn't listen to her. This was one of those rare moments a man truly should do the opposite of what his lady asked him to do. She was in pain. Amanda had truly wanted this child, she'd broken every instinct to admit it—admitted how much she wanted to have his child, and he knew she was reacting because of her pain, but if she took her in his embrace, she would have resisted first, then slowly let herself relax with him, and he should do it. He should take her in his embrace, and tell her everything was going to be okay again just everyone had told him, but he was so tired of giving promises he couldn't keep.
"I—I'll look for the doctor," he told her, walking to the door.
Before he left the infirmary, she'd already started crying loudly.
# # #
Hurt is the part of the package, Beth had told her before, but Amanda had no idea—had no idea what it meant until now.
Amanda wasn't a stranger to pain, though, she knew pain. Foster homes weren't really kindergartens, and even though she had never been abused, tortured or raped, she got beaten a couple of times pretty badly, and she'd been a police officer in the ADP for almost a decade. She'd been grazed at her arm with a bullet, and had been shot at her shoulder at the line of duty, too. Both times hurt like a bitch, had made her reconsider her options; she'd even thought of signing off after the shot at her shoulder, but this—this wasn't anything like this.
Physically, yeah, it hurt, but she could tolerate it. This—this was something else, something no one seemed to understand… even Rick. The first cramp was like someone had put a knife inside her—well, she had no idea how a knife cutting in her would've felt like, but she could bet it couldn't have been worse than this. And that was how it felt like, like something was ripped off her insides—and something was ripped off her—her baby—her small, barely there hope was ripped off her—she felt tears inside her eyes again but she was getting tired of crying now. She wanted to be angry—furious—she wanted to—she wanted to—break everything, everything inside her was ripped off—her baby was ripped off—
She wanted to rip off everything too, but she felt so damn tired even to move her finger, so she just lay there—wondering why everything—every damn thing she'd touched was coming to a ruin. She was good for nothing. Tears welled inside her again, she realized—tired or not, they still did, and they fell as Beth stepped inside the infirmary with the blonde woman she'd remembered from yesterday, the psychiatrist.
Amanda didn't know if she should've been enraged over the fact the town had another doctor who attended the med school, which branch didn't matter, or laughed her ass off. All this time they had another doctor who had the basic training and they'd just made her keep inventory at the pantry. A part of her wanted to shout at Deanne—wanted to ask the old woman if she was crazy or just plain dumb, but another part just didn't give a fuck anymore. Why she would bother? Why she had ever bothered?
It was getting hard to answer that question.
"When can I get back to the house?" she asked when they stopped at the bed. All in frankness, she didn't wan to go back to the house, too, it was going to be awful she knew, and she had no idea how—what they were going to talk with Rick, and he didn't look like he knew it, either. Typically. He'd just left her last night. Granted, he'd done what she'd told—yelled at him, but—well, she didn't know. She couldn't do this—not with him, not now. And she got an inkling Rick was feeling the same, too. She remembered how he'd dawdled on the road at the start of their relationship—hadn't even kissed for two weeks, only had kept her around and alive, and Amanda wondered if things were going to be like this now, too—the baby was gone—their baby… She shook her head. She shouldn't think on this, not now, not fucking now. And she really didn't want to go back to the house, be under those prying eyes, pitying her, but then again she fucking hated hospitals when she was the patient. It made her feel weak, vulnerable, and she fucking hated feeling vulnerable, too.
The doctor shook her head. "You should stay here at least for another day," she started.
"I'm fine."
"Amanda—" Beth implored, she shook her head.
"I am fine, okay?" she bit off, and wandered her eyes around, "I hate this place," she added with a small voice.
"I know how you feel-" the new doctor started, but Amanda cut her off, snapping her head at her.
"You got kicked by a bastard at your first week of pregnancy and lost your baby?"
The woman gave her a look, "No. I mean—"
Amanda cut her off again, "Then you don't fucking know how I feel!"
"Amanda—" Beth started.
"Leave me alone!" she told them, interrupting her too, "Go. Just leave me the fuck alone!"
"Amanda, you—you could—" Beth said back in response, holding her hand, "You can have another baby—"
She couldn't believe it! With a shriek, Amanda pulled her hand away. "No!" she yelled back, "No! We won't have another baby! I don't want another baby!" Tears suddenly broke, "I want my baby BACK!" she shouted, and another spasm hit at her as soon as her voice rose—and she took a sharp breath—pulling her legs towards her stomach again, "Arghh—"
"Amanda-!" Beth ran to her.
Her tears started falling openly, freely as Beth took her in her arms. Amada lifted her head up at Beth, "I—I want my baby back, Beth," she whispered, crying, "I want it back…"
# # #
Rick walked along the wall, making a patrol just to clear off his head. He needed to think. This was so much, just so much. He'd told Deanne he was going to take things into his hands yesterday, and he'd been certain, so certain, but right now he had no idea. A bastard had thrown a kick, and Rick hadn't been there to stop it, and in consequences, his life was turning upside down again—he shook his head.
No. No. His priorities had been always clear, not easy but simple. Keep his family safe and alive. That hadn't changed. He assumed he still needed to find Deanne and have a talk—a serious talk with her, too. This was a mess of her as much as that bastard. Deanne had looked like she was aware of that fact last night but that should wait a bit longer. First, he needed to be sure of something.
Turning to the left at the far end of the wall, Rick came to the little cemetery they had secluded at the back of the town and saw what he'd expected but had hoped not to.
No such luck these days. The chief of the construction team, Tobin and a man from his team were digging a grave, Pete Anderson's corpse laying a few feet away from it.
"What are you doing?" Rick asked, approaching to the grave.
"W—we bury him," Tobin answered, giving him a squinted look.
Rick shook his head. "Stop," he ordered firmly, "We don't bury killers inside these walls."
He'd just made his first rule, Rick realized, as the men gave him another look. There was a small silence with them for a second, small but poignant. Tobin ran his eyes away after a second, and asked, "Wh—what are we going to do with him?" His voice was reluctant, but Rick didn't care. The man had listened to him, and that was what mattered.
"Daryl and I will look for that quarry in a few days," he said.
He needed to get his act together. He couldn't keep going on like this. Amanda was going to be fine, the bleeding had stopped. She needed time now. They both needed time, to deal with this. For a moment, he thought he was doing it again… time… he'd thought they would have time—but there was never enough time… never. He remembered his phone call, the voice in his mind asking him what had happened… a voice he didn't know if it belonged to Lori or Amanda now. He'd been so afraid if he was going to lose her, too, like he'd lost Lori… and what if he'd lost her, too, lost another woman he'd loved before he told her how much he loved her, even when she acted crazy, even when she drove him crazy, even when she started fights out of nothing, never listening to him fully. What would've done if he'd lost her too before he told her what she meant to him, how much he wanted to have this baby with her like she did, how much he'd wanted to put it back together; he wasn't only good for killing—
His eyes caught the sight of the man laying at his feet. No, he wasn't even good for killing. He was too late, too fucking late. He should've dealt with Andrew, but he hadn't, and Lori had suffered for his mistakes. He should've dealt with that bastard as soon he'd realized something was off, no matter what, but he hadn't, and this time his unborn child and Amanda had suffered.
Still, they needed better walls. He was going to make this place safe, that part hadn't changed yet. He'd paid for it—paid with his unborn child's blood. In his mind, Amanda's blood covered legs flashed, and it took everything in him not to take the shovel from Tobin's hands and beat the hell out of the fucking man's already split head. His face turning to stone, he motioned at the body instead, "We'll take him then outside."
The men shared another glance. "Until then?" the other man asked.
Rick shrugged, "He's gonna have to wait. It's not like he's going anywhere."
Tobin gave him a stern look. "It's not right."
Rick returned the look. "We don't bury killers inside these walls," he repeated.
"Do what he says," Deanne's voice cut between them before his back, and Rick turned around, "Put some rocks over his body, and leave him be."
Tobin and his friend nodded at her and started doing what she ordered. Rick tried not to react the way they still listened to her, and she had listened to him, finally, finally listened to him. She gave him a look and motioned at him with a waving hand to follow her.
Wary but still wanting to try it, Rick followed her. Amanda wanted them to find a common ground. He wanted to, if nothing else than to make her feel better, even though he wasn't sure if she could still care. Amanda had wanted this place more than a cave mostly because of their baby's sake. Then as soon as he thought it, another thought came to him… so sudden but fleeting… maybe…maybe, just maybe Carl was right. If…if he could… perhaps they would—try—He stopped the thought. No. They couldn't. Not again.
"I don't want killers buried inside the walls, either, Rick."
He nodded and waited for following but— "But—" and she didn't disappoint, "but we still don't kill people inside these walls."
"I think I just did, Deanne," Rick only said back, "A man who deserved it. A man who killed my unborn child, a man you already should've dealt with it."
Deanne shook her head. "I'm sorry for what happened, Rick, and perhaps you were right, but—Pete—Pete didn't know."
"I don't care."
Deanne nodded, "I know," the woman told her, "and you were right, too. I played down the risks, hoping he'd behave."
"You already had another doctor at your hand, Deanne, how could you let him go this far when you had Denise?"
"Denise is a good woman, but she's a terrible doctor," she said, and shook her head at his incredulous look, "I'm sorry but that's the truth, Rick. You were very lucky that Amanda's condition hadn't worsened last night, but I guarantee you whatever that happened last night, it wasn't because of Denise Cloyd. She didn't save your fiancée."
Rick shook his head back at her. "I can't send men to death on the precognition, Rick."
"He killed my child."
"And I'm truly sorry of that."
Rick gave her a stern look, "And I'm truly sorry that I can't let you go like this."
"I know," she said back, "I remember what you said last night," she continued, "Last night—last night we both were right. That's why I came. Amanda wants us to find a common ground."
Rick's eyes never left hers. "And how do you propose we do that?"
"I don't know," the woman answered, "But we might start with stopping drawing guns at each other with threats."
Solemnly, Rick nodded. It was a start.
A/N: "What happened, Rick?" was coming from Rick's phone call I mentioned at the start, and "I couldn't put it back together," and "I thought there'd be time. There's no time."
That phone call was great, and an essential part of Rick's character, and I thought any romance for Rick had also to be based on it, so I'm not done yet with it. This chapter isn't finished yet, either, but as I try to move the plot together with miscarriage subplot, I had to split it in two.