II.
Before the noon, Rick gestured at Carl, standing in front of the porch. He had to check out the construction of their outer wall, so Rick surmised the father and son talk he had to make would work better while doing some leg work. Half of the town were already outside the walls, preparing the foundation for the masonry wall they tried to build. Tobin was at head of the construction team now again as after both Reg and Carter's death, he was the most experienced constructor in the town.
Rick had found a couple of books at Reg's library, the books he'd managed to bring with himself before they'd ended up at Alexandria—and had been studying them since two months, but the architecture professor had been more into the history of architecture, so there was no section in the books how to build up a masonry wall up to fifteen ft for dummies.
Inwardly he sighed out. How he wished to have one of those for dummies books. They'd been digging and smoothing the soil that would support the whole weight of the stones, so the wall would stay up without collapsing because of its own weight. As the stone blocks were too heavy the base must be sturdy, enduring. Rick hoped it'd be enough to sustain the weight.
Seeing Rick calling at him, Carl left Enid—walking toward him as with the corner of his eyes, he caught Amanda and Beth sitting at the steps of the infirmary at the other side of the town, Judith in her lap. Rick gave out a low snort. Of course, she'd found Beth. They looked like they'd been in a loaded conversation too, not even noticing him in front of the house—staring at them at the distance. Amanda was shaking her head agitatedly, bending down toward Judith, rocking her back and forth, lost in the conservation.
Rick then knew. Beth was talking into her—and that meant she was going to come to grovel to him again—possibly bearing gifts. It was a routine Rick had wised up now. Most of the times after their fight, Amanda found Beth, Beth talked to her, then Amanda found him—to have a talk—it'd been like this since the beginning—since the time Amanda had come with Beth after Grady had fallen, and even though Rick was glad both girls had this kind of close friendship with each other—almost a kinship—he was getting tired of this routine.
He still didn't have time for this. They still didn't have time for this. And he wanted her to come to him—talk to him—tell him what was wrong—not twist his words to pick up a fight, firing accusations—it was never sex between them, and she knew, she damn knew about it, yet she still started sputtering the words whenever she got mad. He didn't like talking about feelings, yes, but Rick had learned his lesson, and he didn't make the same mistake twice.
Amanda, on the other hand, had a specialty turning them into a routine.
He sent her a glare as she stood up with Judith, and shaking his head, turned away. Later. He was going to deal with it later, when they were alone at the home at night. Now—he needed to deal with this.
Despite what Amanda might think, he wasn't an idiot. He'd noticed things between Carl and Enid had developed much more than just being friends after the Wolves attack—but sex? He looked at the teenage boy in front of him. Carl almost was fifteen now—almost a man. He recalled the way he'd fought beside him during the attack when they'd gotten circled over the walkers—almost done, the way he had accepted it—hadn't retreated with the rest of them—Rick had thought how his son had become a man, protecting his family—his loved ones—but this…?
No. Rick wasn't sure if he liked this getting this much ahead of them.
Though, he knew fifteen wasn't so young—not even the before the turn—there had been girls in the school who got pregnant at fourteen—but even then Rick had thought of it sad. He'd been sixteen the first time he had sex—after the prom night at the high school, much like his classmates, aside Shane of course, Shane had had first a way before then—
His eyebrows tightened, he nodded at his son. "I'm gonna check the outer wall—" he explained, and gestured at him again, taking a step toward the gate, "Want to come?"
But Carl hadn't followed. "Eh—I promised Enid I'm gonna help her—" he answered, still staying where he was, "You go."
Rick narrowed his eyes. He thought his son was a much better liar. "Help her with what?" he questioned further.
"She—she wanted me to teach shooting—" Carl said, but Rick cut him off.
"Isn't she in Abraham's class?"
Carl shrugged, "She wants to practice."
Rick gave his son a long look, then shook his head. "You can—practice later," he said, and motioned again, "Come. We need to talk."
Carl gave him a look back after his words, but as Rick turned and walked, this time he followed.
Outside the constructions site they first found Tobin. The man quickly came to his side seeing him. "Hey—I wanted to talk to you," he said, breathless, holding up a rolled up drawings in his hand, "I made some calculations last night," he explained, holding up his rolled up paper higher. Around them, they were still digging in earth and asphalt. It was a hard job too, cutting through asphalt was hard because they couldn't use any drilling machine to destroy the blocks. They'd found a drilling machine in the warehouse, but using it meant walkers, so they'd left where they'd found it. So, it meant a lot of handwork.
On the bright side, it also meant townspeople having a work to do—doing something—building something—so it kept hands and minds busy—so maybe it wasn't so bad, either.
"This might not be enough," Tobin announced then, waving his hand over the construction site, "The stones just too heavy, just cut off from mountain. We need to load bearings to sustain it up," he explained further as Rick nodded. He'd started expecting that too but hearing the confirmation didn't help because he also knew what that meant. "I thought the square beams in the warehouse would do it, so I checked it out, but we don't have enough of them left now." The man paused, "We also need more cement plaster."
Understanding the man, Rick nodded. Tobin meant to say they needed to make another supply run for the shopping mall construction site Alexandria had first taken the materials for its wall. "I'm gonna look at it," he told the man, and took a shovel from the ground and handed it to Carl.
Since they were here, they would make some of handwork themselves, too.
He drew the tip of the shovel in the earth and started digging as Carl followed his example too. Supply runs now were dangerous than before—after Rick had gone to the north and saw that community where Dwight and Cherry had come with his eyes. If he could help, he would never let anyone set a foot outside the walls not before they had put up this stone wall outside, but like he found himself saying most of the times in these days, want doesn't get.
Winter was going to be hard, and they had to be prepared. Food was going to be the biggest problem and things were becoming so worse, and north, towards the DC, was…problematic, but the other directions weren't promising.
Rick felt he was caught between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between two equally unpleasant course of action. Now—he got this too, Amanda's dry voice chiding at him, go find condoms before they do something stupid.
He shook his head, not even daring to think how it would be like—Carl accidentally getting the girl knocked up—His face soured. He straightened a bit, lifting his head up, digging and asked with a voice he hoped was casual enough, "You and Enid—you've started to have a lot of time together…" he told his son.
Carl lifted his head, too, and gave him a look back. Then he shook his head. "Amanda talked to you, didn't she?" he asked, "She saw Enid leaving my room—"
Rick stopped digging and straightened back fully. "She told me this morning, but I noticed it too." He paused, staring at his son pointedly, tilting his head down, "It's hard not to."
They were like twins now, attached at the hip. Carl nodded half, "It's okay, dad. We—we know what we're doing."
Rick raised his eyebrow. "You do?"
"I'm almost fifteen, and she's sixteen," Carl answered back, his voice turning a bit firmer, "We know what we do."
Letting out a low sigh, Rick walked closer to his son. "Look, I know I can't stop you. You're young—and the world—the world isn't like before—" He shook his head, "Hell, years ago people used to get married in your ages—but—" he continued, "But this is no joke. No fooling around," he told his teenage boy sternly, no more kid stuff… "You have to be careful. If she gets pregnant—"
Carl cut him off, "I'm being careful. I'm pulling back before—" he paused—looking at Rick—and his cheeks flushing bowed his head, "Uh—before I finish."
And Rick almost had a heart attack. He took an agitated step forward, and held his son's arm, "so did half of the population of earth before things went crazy. It's too dangerous—"
His head snapped up, Carl gave him a heated look, "You slept with Amanda while we were at the road—you slept with her at the barn—" he told him, words challenging, "Did you have condoms with you then or did you pull back too?"
Rick stared at his son. Not only because he realized Carl had actually heard them having sex at the barn—but because he understood fully his son had gone into adolescence stage.
Overlooking the confronting words, Rick decided to be practical about it, matter of fact. "Don't you have condoms?" he only asked back.
"We used to—but it's finished—" Carl said with a faint shrug in his voice, "I asked Denise then, but she said her stash ran out… and you don't let us go supply runs—" Carl faltered again.
Yeah, going on looking for condoms—Rick wouldn't have thought making time for that— He shook his head. "Look—we have so much to do—" Rick started, but Carl cut him off again.
"Don't worry that. I know what I'm doing. I'm a man now, and I want to have my family," he then announced placidly as Rick looked at him, lost, "I'm gonna ask her marry me."
# # #
"What?" Daryl asked later in the day as Rick found him before he went back to the house, calling it a night.
A supply run—they needed to go on a supply run—like now. This—this was ridiculous. After Carl had told him those words, Rick had rendered speechless, even couldn't talk for a minute, then only said they would talk about it later.
First things first, they needed to find those damn condoms!
They must be setting up bad examples, Rick realized, too, giving his ragged friend a look—popping out the question out of nowhere, they'd created a flux in the town. In two month after the battles, a lot of people had gotten involved—Tobin had started seeing Carol, Spencer was courting with Rosita, but Rick had no idea who are with who there as Abraham started hitting Sasha too—the Alexandrians had started each other too, and Daryl had married Beth.
Amanda had decided to throw out a dinner party for the occasion as their house was the house, and the celebration had to be in the house just like Deanne used to do. They'd gathered together, Daryl and Rick had looked out for white dresses. Rick had wanted to find one for Amanda too like they'd talked before, but Amanda had said the night belonged to Beth and they shouldn't have stolen the spotlight, and she hadn't been still cleared off for intercourse then, and she had repeated she wasn't going to pass another wedding night just sleeping as the night Rick had just slipped her ring in her finger at the night she'd broken up with him at the morning. Rick had laughed then, agreeing. They should've their own night, too, only belonging to them—to her. His bride. But after she'd gotten cleared off, they'd sort of forgotten about it, Amanda never mentioning it again. So, Rick let it go, and her dress stayed where she had put it in the wardrobe.
He shook his head, typical, just typical.
Turning back to the other man, Rick gave Daryl a look, and repeated, "He said he's going to marry Enid."
"You kiddin', man," Darly said back, this time a low laugh erupting out of his chest in a deep rumble, and it was hard to get that reaction from Daryl Dixon if you weren't Beth Greene, "Whaddya say?" the hunter asked further.
Rick shook his head again, "Told him we're gonna talk about it later—" He let out a sigh, "What I'm supposed to say anyway—my fourteen boy just told me he wants to marry." He gave the other man a look, "We're setting up an example." Though good or bad Rick wasn't sure anymore.
Daryl shrugged off, "Yeah…" Then Daryl's expression got heavier—and his eyes wandered away—but after a second he turned to him again, "Can I ask you somethin', Rick?" the rough hunter asked for the first time Rick had known the other man, and even the notion of asking Daryl asking his permission was enough for Rick to understand Daryl wanted to ask about very personal thing. Something their resident provider had never felt comfortable doing, neither Rick. But Rick had called him his brother. He nodded silently.
"Back there—when she got pregnant—you wanted it—" Daryl asked, "You got pissed off when I asked if you planned it—" Rick nodded, the questioned had gotten him each time, as no one had believed they had wanted to have a baby together, but thought Amanda had gotten knocked up accidently, "Why did ya want a child?" Daryl questioned further, "Shepherd—I got it… but you, man—" Daryl gestured at him, "You already two children—why another?" he asked, "In this world—" he added under breath.
Rick leaned at the beams of the porch in front of his former house, too, and tried to explain, "I wanted to be a father again, Daryl," he said as plain as possible, "The only reason I'm alive now is to keep you safe—all of you. My family. Before the prison—I wanted to put it back together, for Carl, for Lori, for you, but I couldn't. Then I tried to do my best, and this time I did, I think, at least for a while…then Governor came and took it away—and I failed again. So, I just lived to keep you safe." He shook his head, shaking his head, "Then Amanda came, dropped into the middle of our life. Then I fell in love. I have no idea how it happened. It just did, she found her way in, pushing all of my damn buttons, driving me crazy. She looks like Lori, too, have you ever noticed it? She broke up with me when she realized it—we were almost done. It took Beth convince her to come to me again. She wanted my child and I wanted her to have my child...Why?" He shook his head, "I took so many lives now, I wanted to give something back, Daryl. Create something. I wanted to see—I'm not only good for killing, that I can still be… me," he finished, shaking his head, and looked at his friend, "Why did ya ask?"
"I'unno—" Daryl said then, shaking his head back a little, "I've been thinkin'—"
Understanding, Rick nodded. "I see." He paused, "Beth always used to say she wanted to have children," he said back.
Daryl nodded absently, "She's very good with Sam—" he said.
Rick nodded again, bowing his head, putting his hand on the other man's shoulder before he walked away, "Just listen to…yourself, brother," he said, and repeated what he'd first told Amanda at the night they'd made their baby, "This world—this world doesn't belong to them, we're still here."
Daryl let out a gruff, and nodded back, "And we ain't goin' nowhere—"
Rick smiled at him and walked away.
# # #
When Rick had come in the evening, Amanda had almost finished covering the edges of all the furniture in the house with rubber and a tape and was dealing with the last table in the hall. The hall had been a nightmare, having many furniture, but Amanda hadn't given up. It couldn't leave any space open, and she just needed to keep her hands busy so her mind wouldn't work up, more than it already had.
Her first reaction had been finding a drink, and but she'd chased the thought away. Drinking away from the problems was for quitters, too. Yes, she occasionally drunk at the road, and she'd gotten drunk after her miscarriage, but those had been exceptions. If she started drinking again, she might as well go and take those pills too.
She just couldn't understand why everyone wanted her to take the damn pills! When she'd gotten drunk, Rick had lost his mind—even had had a talk with Abraham, warning him not to give her any booze—now they wanted her walking sluggish at her feet, lethargic. Those pills made her so drowsy. Denise had mentioned they could've arranged the dosage, but still… She didn't want to depend on meds to function! It curled something in her stomach, making her sick. She wasn't that fragile. She used to see those women in her precinct, drugged so heavily they almost couldn't understand what was happening around them—and whispers behind the backs—and looks… No—no, never. It wasn't fair. When you just took a drink, no one questioned you—but when you took a pill, whispers and looks immediately started.
She let out a snort, hypocrites.
Her back was aching. Putting the tape and rubber she had found, she straightened her back, putting her hand at her waist, arching back. Oh boy, keeping her hand busy was good, but it hurt like a bitch. She brought her other hand to her shoulder, tilting her neck downward, and started massaging her sore muscles. Hmm, perhaps she should've just continued her research.
Cherry had said that colony—Hilltop—was around, and something bugged at Amanda. Hilltop sounded to him really liked a nickname—something dubbed, maybe it was geographical place or historical—or something. Both Reg and Deanne were very cultivated people, well-educated, and they had books. Many, many books, and they had managed to bring them with themselves at the start of the things on their way to their home country before their way had blocked by the military and they had been escorted to the Alexandria. So, their library was full of books that Amanda had taken a keen interest.
Amanda had always loved books, used to pass most of her spare time in her youth reading as she used to hate getting personal with anyone in the academy, always either hitting at the gym, or going to library. She liked books. Amanda had never been a woman of direct actions, as she understood at a young age manipulations and mind games just worked better than heated acts.
Well, she was a rep to lose her shit, as well, but like Beth had said no one was perfect. But Hilltop—if they could find where it was—well, Amanda didn't know truthfully. Rick had been very adamant not to go look for trouble since they learned about this Negan and his men. But Hilltop had a gynecologist, according to Cherry, at least, and that changed everything—at least for her.
This wasn't working for her. Rick believed they could have a baby again, tucking the damn pillow under her ass each time after they had sex, but Amanda knew herself. Self-awareness had always been her curse, and Amanda never denied a fact, too. She wasn't like Michonne, she wasn't like Beth, she wasn't like Lori, as Rick had assured her many times, but she wasn't like Rick, either. No. She had to know. Belief was all good and nice, and Amanda always preferred hard-cold facts of life.
So, she knew if didn't learn if she could ever be pregnant again, or sooner or later, no, sooner than later she was going to lose it again. This time she wasn't even sure how spectacularly she might blow things off—and she wasn't looking forward to find out.
Nope.
She heard the door opening outside the hall, and her heart suddenly started beating harder—if it was Rick—dammit, she still didn't prepare herself to encounter him! She'd thought he still might out for a hour or so before he came back—and Carl was still out, probably with Enid—and he always came at the house later in the night—so it must be Rick—
She quickly bowed her head and started covering the edges hearing the footsteps. Against her back, she sensed his presence, and she knew it was him even before he walked to him and sat beside her at the floor in front of the coffee table.
She was trying to hold the rubber at the place with one hand as with the other put the tape on it. Wordlessly he took back the tape from her hand and plastered it over the rubber. She lifted her head as he checked the room, wandering his eyes around, "Judith—" Amanda explained, "She will start walking soon. We need to cover the edges."
He nodded, giving her look, a long, hard look. Dammit! She quickly ran her eyes. She really wasn't ready for this. She was thinking maybe cooking for him before doing some groveling… perhaps even cookies—then she could find him, bearing gifts—like each time she tried to make peace with him. She frowned. Damn man! Always screwing up her plans.
Inwardly sighing, she held the rubber at the other edge, leaning across him, and waited before he started putting the sticky tape. She thought she was going to deal with it—but right now, she had no idea why. One part of her just wanted to burst into tears so he could take her in his arms—and hold her—caress her hair, whisper into her ear—she hated things be like this between them, but the other part just waited him to plaster the band even when she felt her eyes getting prickly…
"Did you talk with Carl?" she asked then before she really burst into tears, her voice still breaking despite her efforts.
Rick pretended not to notice it, and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not. Her eyebrows pulled as she tossed at him a glance. He was still staring at the rubber and the tape.
"Yes—" he answered then, "He told me he was going to marry Enid."
She dropped her hands, her mouth agape. "What?!"
"Yeah—" Rick muttered out, "He said he was a man now." He paused, "He said he wanted to have his family."
Then she couldn't help it. She burst into laughter. "Like the father, like the son," she mumbled, and Rick shot at her such a glare, she raised her hands up, bowing her head, "Sorry." Then lifted her eyes at him, "We're setting up examples, right?" she asked then, and his eyes grew heated, "You and me… Beth and Daryl—" She shook her head, giving out a snort, "You know it's kinda sad—"
Rick gave her a look, "Why?" he asked, and narrowed his eyes, searching through her, "Do you think us…sad?"
She shook her head, "No—I think us…a miracle," she said, "But—but we're not the epitome of healthy relationships, right?" She paused, "Neither you and me—or Beth and Daryl."
"I don't see them fighting every week," Rick pointed out.
Amanda snorted out, and muttered under breath, "And you don't see me cutting myself after a break-up…"
"What?!" Rick exclaimed, leaning down in on her, and Amanda jumped at her place, holding her mouth—her eyes widened.
She was the most stupid, cruel, selfish bitch ever in the world! She held on Rick's arms, "Rick!" she implored, panicked, "Don't ever say a word to anyone, please! If Beth knew you knew—" she almost cried, shaking her head, "She'd never trust me again—please." She gave him a begging look, her fingers digging at him desperately, "Please. You know how important she's to me. If she disregards me like Maggie—" she shook her head, "Please, promise me you will never—"
He cut her off, holding her arms, and turned her to him completely, "Amanda, calm down. I won't say anything—okay?" he told her, "Calm down."
She nodded, her tears breaking over. "What happened?" Rick asked then, but she shook her head.
"Amanda—" Rick insisted though, "You already slipped it off. What happened? Did—did she hurt herself after Daryl left her."
She nodded. "I learned later. She—she told me about it later—after I broke up with you. She—she said Daryl got so afraid when he caught her doing it—He stayed with her." She looked at him, "She stopped. She was in depression, but she's okay now. She stopped it, Rick."
Rick nodded. "I think Daryl wants a baby, too—" Rick then said, looking away, as Amanda stared at him, "He asked me today why I wanted another child."
She swallowed and asked, "What did you say?"
"I told him the truth," he told her back, staring at her, "That I wanted you to have my baby, wanted to create a life with you."
She looked at him, and swallowing through a lump in her throat, she asked too with a low voice, bowing her head, "Judith is sleeping—and Carl will come later—can we—can we go to our room?"
Rick gave her a searching look, titling his head a bit to find her eyes, "I don't want to have sex right now—" he told her, "What else would we do in the room?" and asked, shooting back her words, "Discuss politics?"
"Rick—" she muttered, broken.
"No, tell me—" he pressed further, though, demanding, "What do you want us to do in the room?"
"You know I didn't mean it—"
"Why do always tell me things you didn't mean, Amanda?" he asked then. She stayed in silence, for she didn't have any answer for that question. She just couldn't help herself, but it didn't sound like the right answer. Rick shook his head, "I found a wedding dress for you, and you just put into the wardrobe, then pretended like it doesn't exist—" he told her as startled, she snapped her head at him, "Go to the room, Amanda—maybe you should think a bit."
Then he stood up and left her.
Then she started crying.
# # #
Even later in the night, he didn't come.
Amanda tossed in the bed, listening to footsteps outside the room—but they didn't come. She'd cried like—two hours after she'd come to their room—but her cries had stopped now.
She felt so tired she couldn't even try.
She was ruining everything—everything. Perhaps Rick was even reconsidering his decision—and at the morning was going to tell this wasn't working. He wasn't even coming to the bed—she didn't know—she didn't know why she had just left the white dress there…
Everything happened so fast—and each time they had something good—really good—something bad followed—why did he always ask her questions she didn't know the answers.
What are you then—he had asked her before the first time he'd—bitten her, and Amanda couldn't have answered then too, just had looked at him stupefied—not knowing how to answer—and it didn't look a lot changed had changed after then. She always knew what she wasn't. She didn't want to be a dirty cop, she didn't want to a victim of the circumstances—she thought perhaps she just might be his wife, and the mother of his children, building a better life together—a better world, and it would be enough for her. Amanda never had big ambitions, she just wanted them to be together.
She heard the footsteps and raised inside the bed a little, her heart fluttering—but the footsteps went away—at the other side of the corridor, and flutters in her chest died as she slumped back at the bed… Carl had returned. Rick was still at downstairs.
She almost started crying again—She was losing him. The fright took her away—what if—what if he really decided it didn't work between them—she had broken with him just because of that before—what if he would come the next morning and told her the same too…
She shook her head… No… No, he loved her… he never loved anyone the way he loved her… He couldn't leave her. But what if he did?
Throwing away the blankets, she put on her dress robe over her PJs and went to find him. He was at couch resting over it, a blanket loosely draped over his chest. There was a book in his hand, too—but he wasn't reading it. His hand was holding on it over his chest as he stared at the ceiling as his other hand supported his neck at the back of his head.
His eyes skipped at her, but he stayed in silence as she took the book from him and placed it at the coffee table. "Rick, please—" she started then, groveling— "If you don't want to talk to me, fine, don't talk to me, but don't punish me like this—please—" she said, "Come to bed—don't talk to me—but come, please." She paused, "I—I'm losing my mind there alone—thinking," she confessed, her eyes wet, "You know what it does to me—please."
His eyes grew heavier, looking at her, then he lowered his hand from his neck and lifted the blanket up, and slipped away at the couch to make room, "Come," he only said, turning on his side.
She smiled big and snugged against him as he threw back the blanket over their bodies.
"Thank you," she whispered as his arm coiled around her waist.
In answer, he only kissed her shoulder, his lips briefly touching over her skin, but it was more than enough. His arms, his presence soothed her—like always, calming her down—the little voice inside her mind—she just shut them out—and closed her eyes. "Rick—" she called him out before she did though, because he needed to know—because she needed to tell him, "I—I like being with you even when we do nothing—" she told him, "Just being with you is enough most of the times. Your presence brings me peace."
He kissed her shoulder again in answer, but this time his lips lingered longer—then started trailing up. "Glad to hear it…"
"And—I—I'm sorry. I—I think I'm doing it—say stuff I don't mean when I get angry because I guess I know you'd take it because you love me," she confessed then, with a sigh, "Then when you don't, I get scared—"
"—if you pushed too much," Rick completed for her, cutting her off, and she heard his sigh behind her, then he twirled her around, and made her look at him, "You ought to stop testing me, Amanda," he told her firmly.
"I—I'm sorry," she mumbled out.
He shook his head. "Don't be sorry. Don't do it." He looked at her, "It hurts us. It hurts me," he brought her closer, "Do you want to hurt me, Amanda?"
She shook her head hurriedly. "No! Of course not—Never."
"Then don't do it—" Rick told her again.
She nodded. "Okay."
She wondered then if he would kiss her—they were so close now—inches apart… She bit her lips and made a little move toward him, but he shook his head—and turned her again back— "No, we aren't having sex tonight. Go to sleep now."
Settling back in his arms, she sighed out. "And I'm not punishing you," he whispered out in his ear, "I'm just tired. Learned today I might be a grandpa soon."
She giggled softly, "We're too young to be grandparents," she mumbled.
Rick made out a huff through his nose. She twisted her neck aside and looked at him over her shoulder, "Rick—we—we never sleep in the separate beds, okay?" she—asked him then, "Even when we fight—even when we don't talk—we sleep in the same bed, please."
Rick gave her a faint smirk, "We're not sleeping in the bed now."
She rolled her eyes, and let out a sigh. Leaning down, he kissed the tip of her nose. "Okay. Now, go to sleep. I need to go to a supply run. Need to find condoms."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Turning back, she laughed again, "You're a good father, Rick Grimes."
He sniffed, and Amanda pulled his arms closer around her, smiling with content—the tightness inside her loosening up as she settled herself against him further, "Don't wriggle—" Rick warned as something poked at her back—a semi hard thing.
She giggled again, "I thought you were tired—" she muttered.
"I am—" he told her back sotto voce, "It just makes its own decisions."
"Ah—"
"Hmm—"
She almost giggled out again in response, but before she did, Judith's cries came from upstairs.
She stilled in his arms, her breath stuck—and closed her eyes. She felt his head going up, checking out.
Amanda listened to her baby. Judith was crying with little wheezing sounds—as if she was—trying to make herself cry. It was funny how much crying actually differed when you listened to it—when she was scared—her cries were almost a constant wail—continuous and terrified.
No—everything was fine. She knew it. Judith was just crying because she was just a baby. A baby who needed to learn some boundaries—much like her mother.
It wasn't a very nice thought, but well, Amanda was trying.
She let out a breath, and turned her head to Rick again, "I'll talk to her—tell her she needs to stay in her bed," she told him as Rick gave her a look, "Um—can you come with me?" she asked him then, "I can't take see her crying like that. And she knows it."
His eyes at hers, Rick nodded, and started standing up. "Let's go."
Together, they climbed up the stairs to her room. Outside her room, Rick cracked the ajar door further, Amanda behind him, then they stepped inside. As soon as she saw her, Judith raised her arms towards her, looking at her with trembling lips and teary eyes, but steeling herself, Amanda shook her head. "No, sweetheart, you can't come. You have to sleep here," she softly spoke to the baby, leaning over the cot without touching her as Judith kept crying, "We're still here, but you have to sleep in your bed," she told her baby, "And Mommy and Dad will sleep in theirs. Okay?"
In answer, Judith just increased her cries.
Helplessly, she returned to Rick as he stepped next to him, "Judith, you have to sleep now. Everything is okay. This is your room. You have to sleep here, sweetheart."
In answer to him, too, Judith cried more.
At the end of an hour, Amanda dropped herself down on the floor, resting her back against the cot's railings as Rick stayed hovering over the railings, still talking to the baby girl. Carl had come once after Judith had wailed, when she had realized her momma and dadda not taking her, and looking at the baby, he'd asked them when they made her cry, and Rick had sent him back to the bed with a glare.
Her cries had turned to breathless little sobs, too, now out of tiredness, but she still kept crying. Rick turned aside, looking at her down, "Go now if you're tired. I'll come when she sleeps again."
She shook her head. "You go," she said in answer, "You're tired, and you're going to a run tomorrow." She shook her head, and lifted it to her baby, "Besides, Mommy will not leave you because you're misbehaving, darlin' but really, you should stop now. Daddy needs to rest, sleep. You need to sleep."
Then as in a miracle, it happened. Slowly, her sobbing dropped as Judith pushed herself back on the bed—and lay down. Excited, Amanda jolted at her feet, holding up the cot's railings—Rick reached down and caressed her stomach—soothing her, "Yeah—sleepy huh?" he mumbled softly, smiling at their baby angel, "Yeah—go to sleep now."
Judith made a protest again, and Rick caressed her again, "Shhssh—hushh—" he hushed her down as slowly her eyes drooped, and finally fell into sleep again.
He bowed his head then over the cot, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Harder than killing walkers," he mumbled out.
Smiling, she shook her head. "You're great at the both—" she told him, taking his hand, and kissed him at cheek, "You're a great man, Rick."
He smiled down at her. She tugged at his hand, and started dragging him out, her eyes skipping at her baby angel for a second before they walked out.
Together, then she knew, as long as they were together, they could do everything.
Everything.