November 25, 2010
~*~ SW ~*~
"Hey, man, you okay?"
Rick looks up and smiles from his seat on the front steps. He takes the bottle from Shane and looks puzzled. "Bottled stuff should all be past drinkable now."
"Barleywine lasts longer according to that book those folks doing the new brewing found. Plus, we got it from that place with the wine cellar."
After looking at the label, Rick snorts in laughter. "Did you hand me a beer with blue balls in the name on purpose?"
Shane just grins and takes a seat beside him, drinking from his own bottle and waiting.
Rick takes a drink and then stares at the bottle. "Blueberries. I get it."
"Didn't answer my question, brother."
"Yeah, Shane, I am. Just wanted a bit of air and Hershel's out back with Patricia."
"Probably the two best people in the house to let you sit and think."
"Was just musing about things. Carl's growing like a damned weed. Went to throw an arm around him after the game and I think he's gained three inches."
"He has. Saw the measurement marking Lori started in the new cabin the other day when I was helping Daryl rearrange the living room."
"Hopefully she won't redo it six times like she did in our old house. Carl sure seems to enjoy the loft. Guess it was probably hard for a kid used to his own room to share space for so long." Rick sighs a little. "He's growing up so fast."
"That little redheaded niece of Christopher seems to be noticing him now that she's coming out of her shell a little." Shane can't imagine what life was like for that poor kid, trapped in an attic with her family all walkers for weeks. Little badass in the making, he thinks, especially with Bryce as an uncle.
"It would help if he noticed that. Boy's only got eyes for Sophia. Worries me that he hasn't given up on it."
"Well, as much as I wouldn't say it in front of any of the teenagers, odds are Jazz and Sophia will last a few months or so. Might be the apocalypse, but teenagers are still teenagers." Even though Rick and Lori started dating in high school, he still remembers his best friend being head over heels for a different little blonde each year the two years before high school. "And if it does last, he'll get the idea eventually and move on."
"At least he's not obnoxious about it. Guess it helps that he's friends with both of them."
The echo of what could have been a triangle with Rick, Lori, and Shane creeps in for a minute, and Shane is glad again that Scout appeared in his life. He decides to tease Rick a little. "You sure it's Sophia he's crushing on? Never see him with just her, you know."
Rick goes completely still and then chuckles as he takes a drink of his beer. "Huh. Guess I shouldn't assume. Not that it changes the current outcome either way."
"True." Shane finishes off his beer and the bottle clinks as he sits it between his feet on the steps.
"Noticed you drink a lot less nowadays. It's good to see." Rick's smiling when he glances over.
"Like it now and then. Just gotta remember the mouthwash later."
"Because she doesn't drink?"
"Because of what happened to her as a kid. She'll say she doesn't mind, but it's there. Think the smell sets off bad memories." He can only begin to imagine. He and Rick wrestled a few drunks in their day that he swore were going to make them drunk just by smelling the fumes. Put that in a kid's head along with a violent attack and he understands the miniscule flinch Scout tried to hide the few times before he clued in.
"Surprised she's not a diehard teetotaler due to that."
"Me too."
The front door opens behind them, and Lydia steps out, carrying a couple of the takeout containers. She smiles shyly at both of them.
"Going home already?" Shane asks. The former exchange student is being absorbed in by virtue of her friendships with Honey and Jazz, but she seems like she's still trying to figure out the noisy, chaotic family.
"I was going to spend some of the evening with the Brasfields, and I've got breakfast shift in the morning." Her English has little of the accent Shane once would have expected from a non-native speaker. Like Honey, the girl's multilingual, speaking both Mandarin and Malaysian as well as English.
"What's on the menu for tomorrow?"
"Applesauce pancakes and waffles. Biscuits and gravy. Whatever canned fruit mix Glynnis wants eaten. Breakfast pizza."
"Sounds real good."
She nods and bids them goodnight, trailing over to her own place first and emerging empty-handed to continue through the village to one of the buildings further away from the Dixon house.
"We still starting on your new addition tomorrow?" Rick asks.
"Yeah. They put in the foundation earlier this week. Got a batch of teenage helpers, too. Jamie said he'd come by to make sure we don't manage to put the walls upside down."
Rick laughs. "Even if we're not all that experienced, I'm pretty sure the teenagers you're probably talking about have done enough to know up from down. Not sure you could do an actual upside down if it's not some kinda kit, could you?"
"Think we're safe there. It'll be the kitchen I'm turning over to someone who won't set the place on fire adding electrical, but we gotta have the addition finished before we take out any interior walls." Shane will be a little sad to see the one-room cabin change so drastically, but while the baby's likely to spend most her nights at Lori and Daryl's, it's just not a feasible layout for an infant. So, they're adding a four-foot extension on the side that'll run the length of the cabin. It'll give them just enough space to add actual small bedrooms, enclose the bathroom, and make the kitchen big enough for a stove and a tiny table.
"Might as well head back inside before your wife thinks we've gone off carousing."
Shane chuckles. "She'd probably encourage it. She's not an obvious worrier like Lori is, but she's been keeping an eye on you."
"So long as that doesn't involve the blatant matchmaking both her sisters keep trying, she's welcome. But I'm doing good, Shane. Probably as good as I've ever been." He gets to his feet and offers Shane a hand up.
Reassured by the truth in his brother's voice, Shane's able to join in Rick's laughter when they emerge into a scene of Scout being lured away from teasing Christian's tiny piggies by the boy setting her on his mothers.
He loves this family's chaos.
~*~ MD ~*~
Merle gets Carol away from the winding down gathering by the simple method of carrying her once she dozed off for the second time. She nestles against his shoulder, trusting him even in her sleep to look after her.
Easing her onto the bed on his side, he gets the blankets turned down on hers. It's a testament to how tired she is that he gets her shoes, socks, and pants off without waking her. He debates leaving the shirt in place, since it's most likely to wake her, but the button-up blouse isn't likely to be comfortable and she hates sleeping in a bra. Moving her to her side of the bed, he tucks the blankets up to her waist before starting on those damned tiny buttons she loves.
Getting the sleeve off one arm is easy, but the other drags against her arm and she groans and wakes. He sees why when he sees the bruising on her arm. It's not bad, and half covered under a band-aid, but he remembers what used to be in that spot. She's fully awake now, watching as he touches the spot as gently as he can.
"Thought you wanted to wait til after the baby boom."
"Decided it was wasting time we might not have," she replies. "And it could take months anyway."
Leaving her arm be, he leans down to cup her face to kiss her. She responds more eagerly than he expected with her exhaustion, but he pulls back reluctantly.
"As much as I would like to at least put in some practice right now, you falling asleep in the middle won't work for me," he teases.
She laughs. "Then finish helping me out of this bra so I can go back to sleep."
Carol's asleep before he gets back to the bed with her nightgown, making him grin and shake his head. She mumbles a bit as he gets her into the soft material, but doesn't rouse again.
He's looking for a new tube of toothpaste when he finds the ovulation kits stashed under the sink, along with other feminine supplies she hasn't needed because the implant shut down her cycle. He can't say he's looking forward to that. He hopes she's not one of those women with a terrible time with it, because she'll push herself regardless and he doesn't want to see her suffer. He went through that enough with Scout, before he got smart enough to get her to a doctor who managed what seemed like a magic fix with that IUD. Before that, she ended up in bed every month for a couple days, too miserable to move. Thankfully, his plunge into that side of raising girls as a single father was easier the other two times around.
He actually manages to get ready for bed before the full impact hits him.
Biology willing, he might be a father again, and this time not of a sassy teenager who has far too much personality in common with him to not be of his blood and raising. It's a thought he put far away after the raw ache faded of not even knowing Jazz existed until he was three days old. No matter how ugly things went between them, to not even tell him about the baby was something he's never forgiven Lil for.
And now he's forty-six, and a grandfather, and there's a small worry in the back of his head about the lack of longevity in his bloodline on both sides for males. He knows he offered this to Carol, didn't want to keep another chance at motherhood from her, but looking at himself in the mirror, he sees hair and beard growth more gray than dark, and the signs of a life spent in outdoor work. He knows that even ignoring Will Dixon's untimely and well-deserved early demise, both his uncles and both grandfathers all died in their early fifties.
It's something he's always planned for. There was paperwork to ensure Daryl raised any of his kids still underage from the time Daryl himself was eighteen, modified each year one of them turned eighteen. He's lived better than those unlamented men did, courtesy of bossy athletic daughters. And other than a few years in his youth and the stupidity of the first two months after the world ended, he's stayed drug free, a novelty neither his father or Uncle Jesse managed. He's just got to keep looking after himself.
The thought of leaving Carol behind to raise small children terrifies him, but as he grips the sink and breathes through the anxiety attack, he starts to laugh softly at himself. There's no way in hell any of his kids would ever let her be alone.
Maybe he's a little too old to be considering new fatherhood, but at the same time, the urge to see Carol heavy with a child - his child - might be one of the strongest he's ever had.
He leaves the quiet bathroom and finds Carol sprawled out from under the covers in her sleep. She doesn't wake as he lays down and tugs her close, resting a hand across the flat plane of her stomach.
None of his kids were planned with his involvement.
For the first time, he'll know every step of the way.
~*~ GR ~*~
Glenn's sitting on the bed in his sleep pants with the watch on the bed in front of him while Maggie showers. He can't quite bring himself to put it safely away yet. Touching it makes him feel a bit like a character in some fairy tale, facing off with a magic object.
"Tomorrow's gonna be a long day with that Walmart in Gainesville. How many trips you think we'll end up making?" Maggie asks, coming over to the bed. She's toweled her hair mostly dry, but he likes seeing it like this, sorta curly from not being brushed out straight yet.
When he doesn't answer, she reaches out to jab him in the shoulder with a grin that fades when she sees the watch.
"Daddy gave that to you?" she asks softly.
"Yeah. It's what he wanted to talk to me out on the deck after supper about."
"You look a bit like he threatened to shoot you, not gave you his granddaddy's watch." She sits beside him and takes his hand. Thankfully it's the one that isn't occupied by a precious object.
"I guess it's the idea of it. I wasn't welcome back home, not by my father, not as long as I didn't follow the path my parents set for me. Your dad doesn't care that I didn't graduate college and was delivering pizzas for a living."
"Of course not. Takes some people longer than others to find their calling, he used to always tell my brother. Shawn never could settle."
And the unspoken words are now he'll never get to, so Glenn puts an arm around her and lets her lean into him for a moment.
"You know you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, right?" he asks.
"You tell me that regularly, Glenn." She smiles, so it's not sarcasm. "If you think I feel in any way unappreciated, I don't. I never have with you."
"I'm glad." He twitches, moving his other hand under his thigh as he tries to find the words.
It serves to bring her complete attention to the fact that he's hiding something from her. "Glenn? What's in your hand?"
Crap. Crap. Crap.
He's never going to find the right words or the right time or any of it if he keeps chickening out every time he tries. He raises the hand but keeps the fist closed around what he holds. "Maggie Diana Greene, I have been head over heels in love with you since the first time I heard you yell yee-haw after kicking a walker off a fire escape ladder. What shocked the hell out of me was when you shared the sentiment." He opens his hand slowly, letting the glittery little emerald ring be revealed. It's flashy in its own way, no diamonds at all, just green stones in silverwork Jacqui assures him is Irish in origins. "And I really really want you to shock me again by saying yes, that you'll marry me."
She reaches for the ring and slides it on her left ring finger, holding it up to let the stones catch the light and giggles instead of answering.
That doesn't do anything good for his anxiety, despite the fact that she's wearing the ring. "Maggie?"
She just grins and goes to shuffle through the little box she keeps various womanly items in like skin cream and comes back with a ring of her own. It's sleek and black, some metal other than silver or gold, with a pattern of red stones set in diagonals around the entire thing. She takes his hand where he's a little in shock and slides it on his ring finger.
"Figured I was gonna have to be like my mama and propose first," she says with a grin before kissing him with all the epic intensity he's used to from her in high spirits.
He does remember to move Hershel's watch to safety, but it's a near thing.
~*~ AF ~*~
Abraham takes another look around the little apartment. It's a cute enough place, if they were the couple Rosita wants them to be. But the more time he's spent behind these walls, seeing how the people here stay safe and grow without ignoring the reality of the devastated world outside, the more he knows he's got to end this. He knew it the first night he spent in this place with her, but actually breaking it off, he hasn't found the words or courage for.
Today was probably the hardest day he's faced since he found what was left of Ellen and the kids' bodies. All the happy families, preparing for a holiday that a month ago he thought no one would celebrate again. He can't begrudge them any of that, because he's addicted to glimpses of the dozens of little kids laughing or one of the pregnant women being pampered by anyone within touching distance.
He hasn't brought himself to interact with the small children yet. The ache's still so very raw within him. So, he's doing his part in making the world safer for them where he failed for his own family.
The older veterinarian asking him to take a walk today was unexpected. He knows, logically, he can't be the only man here with losses, even losses this big. But to hear Hershel speak of losing not one wife, but two, and his son as well, it resonated with that hollow part of him that thinks this isn't survivable. The man put his life back together twice.
He doesn't know if it's religious faith that helped him overcome, or the ties of living children, or just an innate strength of character in Hershel Greene that Abraham himself seems to lack. But after an hour spent just listening to calm tales of the ones the man's loved and lost, he was finally able to talk himself.
It took him two hours to stop.
Sitting here, alone, with his things packed in a duffle and a key for one of the small singles in his pocket, he can almost feel their ghosts around him. Ellen. Becca. AJ.
Sharing their stories, their lives, with another human being for the first time since they died finally gave him the first relief from the clawing grief. Sex, alcohol, killing whatever dead bastard he can reach, even the false mission with Eugene... none of those gave him the fragment of peace he's finally got in his grasp.
He breathes in, feeling the pain lessen for the first time in months.
But he's still a coward when it comes to ending this with Rosita, which is why he's taking advantage of her watching a movie at the community center to slip back here and pack. He should leave a note, not just let her find his things gone, but what the hell can he say that makes this godawful part better for her?
Talking with Hershel today, he can admit he loves her. He loves her fire and her willingness to fight even impossible odds for one more day. But he isn't in love with her, and the longer he lets this continue, the more of a bastard he is.
He hesitates too long, because the door clicks open and she comes in. He's sitting on the bed, that battered duffle unmistakably packed, and she doesn't want to believe it. He can see that in her face before she ever speaks.
"Were you waiting for me to get back or were you going to sneak away?" she asks hoarsely.
He doesn't bother to lie to her. "Didn't move fast enough."
"Why?" He can hear the tears in her voice and it bites into his resolve.
"It happens. It's how it's got to be."
"You can't be serious."
"As serious as a heart attack." He stands and shoulders the duffle as she comes closer, stepping to block his way out of the apartment.
"No. You don't leave until you tell me why." And she's crying now, hitting his chest as if she can fight whatever it is between them that is causing him to leave. "After everything, we've been through, you tell me why."
And since he doesn't think he can feel like any worse shit than any of this will leave him, he tells her the truth. "When I first met you, you were what I needed. I thought you were the last woman on Earth. You're not."
He is in no way a good man anymore, but the look of devastation on her face ensures he knows that without a doubt.
But he's gentle when he pries her hands away from his shirt and sits her on the bed.
Then he starts to leave her alone and crying to deal with the cruel truth he never should have shared.
"Abraham."
He stops, because he owes her that much.
"Fuck you."
He nods, accepting her words, when he deserves harsher, and leaves.
As he walks through the crisp night to his new room, he wonders if she realizes yet the fault's in him and not her.
~*~ RG ~*~
Rick figures if he doesn't get up and say something, the banging at the place next door is going to disturb more than just him. So, he pads to the door barefoot and opens it. "He's not home." He's a little harsh in tone, which he regrets when he sees Rosita's tear streaked face.
"Everything alright?" Well, ain't that a dumbass question to ask a crying woman. No wonder he ended up single.
She shakes her head slowly. "Do you know where he is?"
"He's taking the midnight watch shift tonight. Honey came and hustled him off a bit ago so she could go over the equipment with him before the previous shift ends."
Rosita wipes at her teary face. "Dear God. Please tell me that's at least a two-person shift?"
She sounds like she's trying to be amused despite her obvious upset.
"Yeah. Honey's been doing the midnight shift since her arm keeps her off most of the other jobs, while Joan took her spot on the building crew. Dunno if Shelby's staying on as a third watchman tonight or it's just the two of them. You might check. If you really needed him."
"Dammit." She sighs and stares at the door as if she wants to kick it.
"Don't think he locks it either, if you needed to be somewhere other than your place." After Abraham's problems the first day the Texans were here, Rick's actually a little worried, but he senses she's more tearful and pissed than anything worse. "Seen Honey barge right in with some project or another she was looping him into, even when he wasn't there."
He thinks she's thinking about it, but she shakes her heard.
"Listen. It's not my business, why you needed him tonight..."
She interrupts. "Abe moved out. Couldn't just sit there and stare at the walls. Didn't figure Carol would appreciate me starting a late-night bonfire with our bedsheets either."
Oh. Well, that makes sense, he supposes. No one who's watched the couple actually expected them to last. Only Rosita seemed to not see the disconnect the big redhead has from their relationship.
"Well, you're right that Carol wouldn't appreciate a bonfire. But if you're just stuck on not being alone." He hesitates and she straightens, more alert. "Was watching reruns on DVD. You're welcome to join me." He's off tomorrow, and he remembers Shane spending half the damn night watching crap TV with him after he and Lori split, and that was mutual.
He thinks she's going to refuse, but then she asks, "What show?"
"Law and Order." Yeah, he's a cop admitting he's watching a cop show. He's man enough to admit it's ninety percent because of Benson.
"Which one?"
"SVU."
"The only one worth reruns." And she smiles brightly enough that he can almost forget the evidence she's been crying. "I know there's beer about the place. You party to any actually drinkable?"
He laughs. "Yeah, got a few bottles tonight." The amusement of handing off that Blue Balls beer out to work on her too, right? He steps back so she can enter, offering her the chair and a beer before sitting cross-legged in the middle of his (thankfully made) bed to restart the episode. She's as snarky as him about the parts the drama doesn't get right, and he enjoys the company and hopes she does as well.
She falls asleep in the recliner two episodes in, so he covers her with a spare blanket after tugging it out so it's at least reclined. He ought to offer her the bed, but waking her seems cruel and she'll probably refuse. Then she'll be back to that apartment where she wants to burn the bedsheets and alone. He shelves the chivalrous impulse and puts himself to bed.
Abraham is a damned stupid man, he thinks as he falls asleep.
A/N: The story is now at 59 chapters and 320k on Ao3. We still haven't reached baby Judith's arrival... so total, maybe 500k. 😊