XXIV.
I'm gonna take care of you, baby…
The words almost did her. She snugged further into him as he caressed her hair, holding her between in his arms, just like she'd wanted—she needed. She didn't want to talk, she didn't want to think, she only wanted to be in his arms.
Her shivers ran over her body more as his hand went through the back of her head and slowly started massaging the base of her neck—and she was burning inside out—melting—shivering… He pulled back an inch and looked at her. "Let's get you inside—" he told her, and started taking off his jacket, and put it on her shoulders.
He pushed her arms into the garment, and she smelled him on her—and how she'd missed it—his scent—that manly odor mixed with sweat and the smell of blood—over her tongue she tasted blood and flesh again—copper and metallic but she put it away. She—Rick—Rick had found her. She—she was safe again. They—they had found each other.
He zipped the black suede jacket over her dress, and it was so big—she was almost lost in it—but it was warmer now-and safe, engulfed in his scent. Giving her a look, he bent down a little to kiss her at the tip of her nose. Everything felt so distant now—like her nightmare had finally ended—she…she was with Rick, and he was going to take care of her. He took her hand and they started walking back to the cabin.
She didn't want to see others, didn't want to turn back to the reality but she knew she couldn't escape from it, either. They—they needed to talk—not talk what specifically had happened to her maybe, but they still needed to talk. They'd found each other, yes, but how? "Rick—why—what're you doing here?" she asked, turning her head to him.
"Came for the guns," Rick said, and Amanda understood. They'd come to take the cache he'd hidden here when Negan had taken their guns. "We—we were going to come for you," he continued, "I knew—I knew—" He paused, shaking his head, and stopped walking too, "We were coming for you. I knew I needed to get you out of there. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have lived through this. I should've protected you."
She shook her head. She didn't want him to blame himself for what had happened. Didn't want to see him like this. It wasn't his fault… and—and he'd protected her. When she had needed him, she'd founded him in her. Amanda turned to him fully. "Rick—you protected me. I—I killed him. I killed Negan."
He nodded. "I know. The redhead woman told me."
Panic found her again, and she stared at him… No… She—He knew? He'd learned what had happened to her? Was it the reason why he'd told her the only thing that mattered that she was back? "Did she—did she tell you?"
"She told us Beth got you out and you killed Negan," Rick answered, and got closer to her, her hand still in his, "Baby—whatever happened—it's okay… Even if he hurt you—even if he…" he forced out a breath with difficulty, his jaw clenched, "e—even if he forced—"
Amanda understood the words even if he couldn't have finished them off. Panic rose in her even higher, and she shook her head agitated… No! "No…" she cut him off, "Rick—no! He—he didn't—" she almost said the bastard hadn't touched her—but couldn't—because he had—he had touched her, because Amanda had asked him to do it. Tears came to her again, and she shook her head, "He—he didn't do it, Rick," she could only manage that. The bastard hadn't raped her. She didn't want Rick to torture himself thinking like this—blaming himself… "I would've never let him," she said, hoping it was the truth—remembering how broken she had been laying over his lap—letting him play with her hair—no. She could've never. Never… She searched for the fury inside her, that feeling cut off through her shaken state when the bastard had called her baby. She was only Rick's baby.
She walked in on him closer, "I—ripped off his throat—" she said, clutching at the feeling, that silent fury, looking at those electrical blue eyes having so much intensity that always cut her off her breath, always mesmerized her, the only man she could've ever let her call his baby—only man she could've ever let tie her hands and fuck her senseless… "I did it, sunk my teeth and rip him apart—"
"The bastard called me baby, and I ripped him apart, Rick. I'm only your baby," she told him, as he stared at her with the same look, "No one's but yours."
He closed the little inch apart between them, grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked her on himself, his lips already capturing hers.
She grabbed his face between her hands as he kissed her wildly, and Amanda wondered if he could taste the blood and flesh still over her mouth—he would know—know what that felt. They knew—each other. They understood each other. They were alike, two halves of a whole. Girls like you need men like me to make them whole…echoed in her mind again, but she pushed it away…Rick—Rick wasn't like that… They—they weren't like that. The bastard hadn't known a damn thing about them.
Rick parted from her after a while, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes still glued on her— "You're my baby," he whispered at her.
She stared at him back, and quickly confirmed, "Only yours."
They kept staring at each other for a while, and she half expected him to grab her and push her under a tree away from the cabin, and had his ways with him—not only expecting him, either, but wanting it—wanting desperately, being under him—squirming, begging… she couldn't even sit on her ass but she wanted him to fuck her very badly, make her forget everything. The feeling was there, clawing at her insides, something she couldn't ignore…something she couldn't run… You want to yield…
She closed her eyes.
Rick breathed heavily as if he was having the same struggles as she felt, and pulled back an inch as she opened her eyes again, "We—we need to get you to a safe place," he murmured, "You…all of you can't stay here. It's not safe."
She nodded. They needed to focus on. This was no time. They needed…a plan. "I know… I—I was—I was going to think about it. Just wanted to have guns and food first. We need a place to hide."
Rick nodded. "Quarry. We were going to take you there."
Quarry. They'd cleared out the place, and the stone bowel had camps—but staying there, staying in a camp that had been occupied by an army of thousands of dead was giving her chills. Rick stepped back completely, as if he understood her reluctance, "Let's get inside. We need to talk what we will do."
At that, Amanda nodded. It was the best. Everything was just so confusing, and she wasn't still ready to face it. She didn't even know when—if she would ever be ready to tell him what the damn bastard had done… She couldn't hide it, of course, like Beth had said. Rick was going to learn about it sooner or later—she was going to have scars now, she knew. He—the sadistic bastard had branded her—and each time they had sex, Rick was going to have to see them—know what Negan had done to her—and…and it wasn't the worst part.
No. She wasn't ready to talk—ready for Rick to see her like this—in pain, scarred, but there was also pride, a defiance, knowing that she'd endured—knowing that she hadn't been broken. Which she hadn't. She couldn't have endured. Would she—would she ever be ready to tell Rick what actually had happened? What she had done—how she'd begged the bastard to lay over his knees—and slap her ass—like a broken, damaged woman thing—and just lay over there and listened to his words—letting him caress her ass, play with her hair—doing nothing just letting him… just laying over his lap and letting him…
No! Never!
Rick—Rick would never learn about it! Never.
She stared ahead at the cabin, as they walked to it, Rick holding her hand again as if he was afraid if he hadn't, she must've taken away from him again, and emptying all of her thoughts, Amanda decided to focus on it—just on it, the feel—the warmness around her hand.
They—they had escaped, had found each other again. Rick was right. There was nothing important than that.
But it was still far from over yet.
She let out a little sigh. She—she really should focus on what to do next, not to preoccupy herself with—with this. Everything in her felt like a struggle now, a strife she didn't have any idea how to do with it—how to fight…if she was even supposed to fight.
If it'd been…the old Amanda, she would've just accepted it and moved on—telling herself it was what it was—a fact—a reality—and Amanda never denied a fact, but it looked like she'd lost that ability, too? But so, was it a fact? She didn't even know what it was, what she was supposed to accept and move on.
Luckily for her, before her thoughts even turned more…confusing, they had arrived the cabin and went inside. And as soon as she did, she almost regretted it.
Here again—eyes giving her those looks—directing at her secret glances to see if she would get a break down or try to run away again—or—or something. Even the former wives, even the half-turned face guard were looking at her like that, and Amanda felt fury rising in her—burning her further… They—they didn't even know her!
Beth handed her a bottle of water from as they walked further in the room, her hand still tightly clasped in his. With the other she took and broke her hand free from his to open it. She was thirsty, burning, and the feel of water in her mouth felt like a miracle, washing away the taste of blood and flesh. Beth had rinsed her mouth when they'd washed her hair, but the taste had still remained her. Despite the water, she knew it was going to return to her too, but at least for now, she was free of it. For a little while.
There weren't enough seats in the little cabin, so, gratefully she stood up, resting herself along the wall—if—if she was to force down to sit on a chair—she didn't know how she could do it.
"We need to go—" Daryl said as soon as Rick stood in the middle of the room.
Amanda didn't have any idea what they'd talked when they'd been outside—how much actually Beth had told them, but the hunter was right. They needed to go. It wasn't safe here. Still so close to Sanctuary. They must've understood now they'd escaped into the woods, picked up their trials. She didn't want to face with them so soon. Not like that.
Though, Rick shook his head. "We don't have enough vehicles, only one car and your bike."
They only had thought of rescuing them, the women and the former guard were complicating things too, and there was a pinched expression at Rick's face too, and Amanda knew what he'd been thinking on. No. They couldn't leave them here on their own. They—Frankie and others had helped them. Beth had promised them. She had promised them they could live with them. They couldn't leave them alone here.
And his face loosening, as if Rick had come to the same conclusion, he turned to Abraham. "You go back and bring another car. We will wait for you here."
"Where will we go then?" Amanda cut him in, "the quarry? I don't think it's a good idea. We're too many to fall back there—we don't even know how long we'd be staying there."
Rick's eyes found her, "We can't stay here—"
Amanda cut him off again, "That place is a graveyard, Rick—" she said. There—there had to somewhere else. A place where they could get back on their feet, wrap their wounds, heal themselves. The quarry—the makeshift dead camp—no. It wasn't that place. She didn't want a graveyard, empty, desolated, barren. No. She wanted—a place, a place like home.
She knew she was being unreasonable. Perhaps it was just the fever that made her ludicrous, burning her inside out. She knew this was no time to be picky for such things. They'd barely escaped with their life, but she was so tired of barren, empty things. She wanted life, a real life, life the one she had with Rick in Alexandria. Her hand went across her stomach, and she held her bulge, protectively, her babies… They—they needed something better than a graveyard. Amanda had already given them enough trouble as it was.
"Amanda's right," Beth said, too, "There was nothing there. Can't we go to Kingdom or Hilltop?"
Rick shook his head. "Hilltop and Kingdom are the next places they will look for you. I'm sorry. We can't go to them, either."
There again, Rick Grimes, always being right. She thought of her list then—the historical places she had prepared for them to check out, but no they couldn't do it like this. They—she—she couldn't—didn't want to endanger herself anymore, endanger her babies. Shoot her, but she'd learned her lessons.
I fucking learned my bloody lessons! her voice screamed in her inside, and tears threatening to break over again, she forced it away. She fucking hated it!
They—the thoughts—his words—her begging—they just didn't go away!
She wanted to heave deeply but as it'd drag their attention back to her—giving her those looks, she kept it inside. Time—she told herself. She needed time to recover. She'd been whipped at her ass brutally, then had had to rip off someone's throat just a few hours ago, and possibly running a fever, making her…oh-so-not-reasonable. She supposed it must be…normal to feel like this. She—she had to cut some slacks for herself. No one is perfect, Beth told her in her mind again.
And denying facts never helped anyone as well. She'd been humiliated, abused, physically and mentally, and she had to find a way to live with it. She didn't know how right now, but she was going to. "So, the quarry it's then?" she asked, once again forcing her mind to the matter at the hand.
"We—we know a place," suddenly Frankie remarked, taking a step forward in the room, "We—"
"Frankie!" Tanya called out at her friend, exclaiming as all of the occupants of the room turned to them.
Turning her head to her friend, the redhead shook her head, "We have—we have to go back home, Tanya." She pointed at Amanda with her head, "She's right. I don't want to go a graveyard. I don't want to do this anymore."
"You know the rules," Tanya told her, giving her a wide look.
"We have to try—"
"What are you talking about?" Rick cut in between them, walking close to the duo.
Frankie turned to him, "Can—can you fight with them?" she asked, and went on before Rick could reply, "Can you kill them? Kill Saviors?"
Rick's eyes turned sterner, "It's them or us," he told the woman solidly, like the truth it was, "There's no going back."
"Then we'll help you—" Frankie said, "We'll give you an army the Saviors doesn't have any inkling about."
# # #
"Hidden?" Rick asked listening to the women, his mind quite taken what he'd heard. Everything had happened so far tonight had been quite mind-blowing; finding Amanda and Beth again, then learning what had happened, learning Amanda had killed Negan—learning she had ripped off his throat… because the bastard had called her—baby.
I'm only your baby.
The declaration almost did him—and he almost had taken her away in the wood and fucked her good—fucked her brains out—the way she'd looked at him, almost imploring him with her eyes, begging him. Rick was the only man who was allowed to do that—allowed to call her his baby—and it brought the feel of uniqueness and being capable back to him, and the image of her in his mind doing it was feral—Amanda—his wife ripping off a man's throat with her teeth, just like he'd done—
He didn't know if he was supposed to be shocked and panicked because what she'd been through it or in awe of her resolves, he knew what that took, knew it well—but mostly—mostly, after the surge of lust faded, he'd become worried.
He wondered what had actually triggered Amanda enough to resolve that, what that bastard had done to push her over the edge like that, like Rick had broken the beast inside him, going over his own edge when he'd seen Carl assaulted by those sonofbitches.
There was relief in him as vast as oceans with her admission, coursing through him wildly, knowing that that bastard hadn't managed to do to her what he'd assumed first. He couldn't have even brought himself thinking Amanda going through it, being forced that way—by another man, doing her things only Rick should do, only Rick could do, no one else but him. She was only his baby! They belonged to each other, only to each other, even seeing that bastard looking at his wife like in Alexandria had boiled blood in his veins but…but there was something else.
Something equally bad—something that had broken her—something she was ashamed. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered that he hadn't lost her. She was back, alive, still breathing, flesh and blood. There was nothing more important than that. He imagined the feel of her lips over his…her warmness. She was burning—burning with fever, though Rick wasn't sure anymore because of the cold of the night or something else now. No matter. He was going to heal her back. He was going to put it back together. He was, but first, he had to keep her safe.
"You say Saviors don't know you—" he continued, giving women another wary look. It was still sounding quite incredible, and repeated, "Hidden."
"They found us earlier in the days. Negan wasn't even the leader yet then. But they were still very powerful, and Simon was one of their leaders. They came to our settlement one day. Asked what we all had. We didn't want to give them, tried to fight back." She paused for a second, her voice wavering, her eyes getting moist, "They won—" she said then, "Then…Simon…he brought every men above age ten out in the streets, and they shot them at the head. No question asked, no pleadings listened." She shook her head, "They told us then we'd work for them if we want to live. We decided to leave, took whatever we could, and fled in the dark," she continued.
With the hair on his back standing, Rick listened to the woman's tragic tale. Amanda—Amanda had said Negan had problems with Simon, that the man was giving him chills, and Rick was beginning to see the reason more.
"Simon did it?" Amanda asked, possibly thinking the same.
The redhead nodded. "He and his friends."
"What happened then?" Rick questioned further.
"We found this place, walking in the woods. It's an old camp site. I think it used to be a sort of yoga camp or something like that, secluded from the city—a place people used to go to find themselves, go to…heal—" she said as her eyes flickered toward Amanda, "It healed us," she continued, "kept us safe, kept us hidden. The beach also feeds us, so we stayed. We grew. Found weapons, learned how to use them, learned how to protect ourselves, and swore that we'd keep our home hidden from outside world."
"Like Amazons?" Beth said aloud, her voice carrying a wonder, and Frankie shrugged.
There was the same wonderment in the other's look, too, but Amanda faintly narrowed her eyebrows a second later, her forehead getting even more covered with sweat as she still rested along the wall at her feet. He'd offered her one of the chairs before, but she'd declined, saying she was going to stand up. He took the empty chair beside him and carried it toward her. Amanda gave it a look, and then shook her head again in refusal.
His eyes squinted more—realizing that she—she was avoiding from sit down. She—she'd groaned with her when he'd squeezed her ass, lifting her up in his head, and had been standing up still resting against a wall or a tree since they had found each other.
Thoughts turned in his mind even worse as he held the chair's back, his knuckles turning white. Amanda turned to Frankie, "You've been at Sanctuary for a while," she questioned, giving the women a look, turning away from Rick, "How that happened?"
"Tanya and I were the supply runners," the redhead woman started explained, "We scarcely make many supply runs. We have food, and the camp already had a big stock of supplies, and we need other stuff. Like medicine, like machinery. So, a year ago or so, one day we went out. Then it sorted of turned to a disaster, and we got stranded. Saviors found us. We didn't understand they were them at first. Nor they did. We pretended we were some lost women in the wilderness. They brought the Sanctuary, and we saw Simon we understood where we were." She turned to Amanda and Beth, "You know the rest of the story."
"You say you can take us there?" Daryl asked, pointing an arm at her.
Frankie gave them a look, but this is the other woman, her friend, who answered the question this time, "Look, I still don't think it's good idea. Natalie wouldn't even get us back. You know how she's—" she told her fried, and turned to Rick, "My people—my people are very hostile to the strangers. Our rule is to kill anyone who learned about us. No exception. She would even think of us comprised, guilty by association."
"You say you got guns?" Rick said back. And they sounded like they knew how to use them. Seven outposts and three hundred and fifty-more people. Kingdom and Hilltop weren't going to enough for this. They needed new alliances. And they wouldn't do it sitting on their asses.
Rick didn't want another fuck up, didn't want another clusterfuck. They'd barely gotten out of this—not without suffering consequences, either. But those men—those men wouldn't leave them now. It was either them or their own group. As long as Sanctuary stayed, Alexandria would never be safe. And Amanda and Beth needed a place to stay hidden—and Amanda needed a place to heal…a secluded place—a safe haven near a beach where Rick would take care of her.
He turned to the arms, "What do you say?" he asked. The council wasn't here—but Rick still wanted to a voting.
"We need guns—and arms who know how to use 'em," Abraham answered.
Michonne nodded as well, as the others repeated. Rick turned to Frankie. "How we can get there?"
"It's twenty or so more miles at south," the redhead woman answered, "So we might need those cars."
# # #
It took a while to adjust the logistics, Abraham and others left to find another car, leaving Daryl and Beth, and the newcomers, and them in the cabin. They had decided to leave before the dawn as it'd better to go down there with light, not slip into their borders in the night like thieves. Rick didn't want to risk any open hostility, not this time. He—he needed those women.
After Abraham, Sasha and Michonne left, the others slowly started to ready to pass the rest of nigh in the cabin, getting the food, started sitting down all the while Amanda stayed up against the wall. Rick followed her example too, standing next to her in silence. As the night aged, Beth went to her side and handed her a big white pill with a bottle of water. Amanda took it wordlessly and gulped it. Rick could recognize those white, precious things from anywhere. Antibiotics. She was having antibiotic.
He walked to her closer and put his hand over her forehead. It burned across his palm. "You're running a fever."
She shrugged, running away her eyes. "It—it's okay. I'm…taking pills."
Rick nodded, giving a look around themselves, everyone trying to make themselves a place at the floor, everyone but Amanda. He took her hand and brought her the next room. She gave him a questioning look as he walked her to the corner, "It was getting crowded. I wanted to be alone," he said, and lowering himself on the floor, he started to pull her down, too, "Come, lay down with me."
He rested himself at the wooden siding, as Amanda slowly started kneeling down beside him, then twisting aside, she lay down on her side, resting her head over his lap, securing her back against the wall—and her hand crept at her back, and she pulled down the hem of her dress to cover herself as she folded her legs, his eyes catching a peek of whiteness before the moist fabric covered her ass and then Rick realized it fully, realized why she was always standing now—why she couldn't even sit…
His chest hurt so badly, his eyes prickling, hurting… He blinked back tears off his eyes as Amanda pulled his suede jacket closer around herself, still shivering.
Rick wanted to bang his head at the wall—rip something off—he wanted…he wanted to hit something, hurt someone… hurt that sonofabitch, the most horrible way possible. And he couldn't even do that. "Amanda—" he whispered at her, his voice so rough, words like beads of glass stuck in his throat, "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."
She swallowed faintly before she spoke, "It's okay…" she said back softly, facing at the wall, her head still over his lap, "It wasn't your fault."
No, it wasn't, but it was his responsibility. She was his wife, his to protect, cherish, and love. What a kind of husband let his wife live through this? "But it was my responsibility," so he told her, bowing his head to looked at her, "I'm your husband. It's my duty to protect you." She lifted her head up at him, "I couldn't… Couldn't protect you. Couldn't save you. I failed you. I'm sorry."
She shook her head, "You—you saved me, Rick," she whispered at him, her hand rising to touch at his cheek, "He—he told me—he told me he took me away from you. He was wrong," she whispered, "You were with me… You were inside me. It was you—I—" she breathed out, her eyes still fixated on him, "I felt you. Felt you inside me doing it—something was raging in me, and it was you…" Rick stared at her, leaning down further over her as she whispered over his lips, "You're a piece of me, baby, always with me."
He touched at her lips—gently—She…she was a piece of him, too—keeping him sane and intact, not shattered—losing himself.
Beth walked in them just right moment—and stopped seeing them. "I—I—" Lifting his head, Rick looked at the younger woman and saw a bottle of antiseptics and bandages. Amanda swallowed again, her eyes tearing—understanding she had nowhere to run away now.
"I—" Beth said, "I—we should change them before you sleep," she said, "In the woods, they might've gotten dirty. You know what the doctor said."
Rick extended his hand out. "It's okay. I do it. Gimme 'em."
Amanda gulped, but stayed in silence. Seeing her silence, Beth walked to him, and handed the antiseptic and the bandages. When they were alone, he bowed his head, and looked at her, silently crying, laying over his lap. Placing down the sanitary kit, he wiped her tears with his hand. "Baby—"
"I don't want you to see me like this, Rick—" she cut him off with a whisper, "I—"
"I'm your husband—" he cut her off, too, "Baby, please, let me… You don't have anything to be ashamed of." His hand caressed her burning, moist skin, "I'm your husband. We have to be there for each other through the good and bad. Please, let me take care of you. Let me at least do it."
With his words, her tears broke even more—and she twisted around, and started mounting over his lap, rising herself along his torso, their chests pressed together. She loosely wrapped her arms around him, resting her forehead on his shoulder, hiding it at the crook of his neck as she placed her ass over his knees for him.
Breathing out to steady his shaking hands, he lifted her dress's skirts—preparing himself… He—despite his best efforts, his hand started shaking again as he started peeling off the dirty bandages as she whimpered in his arms with little groans. A vehement hiss, a sharp intake of breath ushered out of him when his eyes caught the sight—and for a second everything went black, he stopped even breathing.
Red—so red—angry slashes were covering her skin—the lacerated skin—over the cheeks of her bottom under the back of her hips—even running slightly over her thighs. Her small, round ass was the worst, the color of red—Rick tightened his arms over her upper body—pulling her closer to his chest as she started crying openly. His own tears broke too, pricking inside his red eye sockets, and kissed her hair, tightening his arms even further. "No one—no one would ever lay a finger on you, baby. No one. I promise," he whispered at her fiercely. No one. Never again. Never again.
Her forehead still at his neck, she nodded in silence.
He started cleaning her scars—pouring the antiseptic over her skin—and her fingers digging at his arms, she buckled over him—loudly groaning—almost screaming, "Hold on, baby—" he whispered her, cleaning the skin—burning her further, "It's almost done."
She started crying even worse, started shaking uncontrollably with pain as he felt a moist over his neck. He poured the antiseptic over her other cheek, pulling her back again over his lap as she started sliding to the floor over from him… "Shsss—almost done—" he told her again, resting her over his lap, and bent her a bit down so he could see her ass clearer again. "Just hold on. I'm covering it again," he told her, picking up the bandages—and bowing his head, he gave a little kiss at her shoulder.
She snugged at him further in response—completely as if she wanted to get inside in him and hide herself—where she knew she would be safe—He covered her skin with bandages quickly and lowered her skirt down and settled her over across his lap, careful not touch her ass. He caressed her again as she nested across him— "Go to sleep now, baby—" he told her, starting playing with her hair, and she stayed there still, laying across his lap, her tear and black eyeliner smudged and stained eyes and face starting losing her pained expression as he slowly played with her hair in silence.
Her eyes fluttered close as her breaths became deeper—her little whimpers turning into languorous breaths before she fell asleep. "I'm gonna kill every of them, Amanda—I promise," he slowly whispered at her as her eyes closed, his hands still going through her hair.
For the rest of night, Rick stared at the darkness inside the little room, listening to her breathing and imagining the ways to kill them—each of them—in the most horrible ways possible.
Hey there, we finally have Oceanside, too! I think I got now all the Coalition; Hilltop, Kingdom, and Oceanside. Yay.
And we also have a Rick as he tried to being a good husband, taking care of her-dealing with seeing her hurt, as Amanda dealt with her own struggles.
Be safe, and be at home. My thoughts and prayers are with you.
