XXV.
In his dream, the prison was in fire, burning in the darkness, red—so much red…
Beneath his feet they were people they'd lost, starting from the beginning—his eyes caught the first Jim—laying just beside his boots, covered with blood—like everything else. At his other side, there was Hershel—blood still sipping through his neck over his chest.
Rick was standing a top of mountain of people he'd lost—he'd failed—and over his eyes there was the home he'd lost—burning down to the ground, turning to ash…
Everything—everything was turning to ash.
I'm sorry—
He saw Carl first—looking at him—he reached out his hand—heavy—his limbs were so heavy—he tried to walk to him, but couldn't, his legs felt like planted. He tried to call to him, but the words were like beads made of glass, too, stuck into his throat—Safe— "Carl—safe—stay safe-" He needed them to be safe—he only wanted to keep them safe— His kids—"Judith—"
He dropped on his knees… failure like a mountain over his shoulders…
Then there she was, too, clad in her white gown—looking tall, beautiful and clean—as if no dirt from their world could reach to her anymore… He lifted his head up at her, tears in his eyes… "Lori…"
I'm sorry—
# # #
When Rick woke up, it was the morning.
He groaned—trying to move his arm over his eyes against the sunlight that seeped through the cracks over the shades, his whole body still throbbing with pain. He—he felt like—a nail had been driven through his skull—everything hurt—even the sunlight hurt—his side and his leg throbbing worse.
But—but he was still alive.
His pain-induced blank sleep was restless, Rick could still remember the fires, and his mouth felt like ash. He groaned again, stirring—water—He needed water. He possibly hadn't drink anything since yesterday—and he must be dehydrating now.
Slowly he lowered his arm and forced his eyes open—and wondered where Amanda was. He knew she wasn't very far away—she must've kept all night watch—he knew that, as well, as he'd been out all night, and she couldn't have let the girls do it.
He better should go and find her so she could sleep a bit.
This was hard for her, too, and neither Rick nor his injuries were making it easier for her. Slowly, holding back groans, he drew himself up from couch, moving his legs down, putting his feet down at the ground, and his head bowed, he looked at his boots.
God. He was so tired.
But he wasn't dead yet, so he should get up.
Carl—Judith… It was a new day today, so he had to find them.
The thought that they were at that safe house still gave him chills, and a part of him was bitter too, for not doing it themselves, too, at least not preparing for a rendezvous point in case that they got separated. They'd stashed the bus in case they had to leave on an emergency and they were prepared to go out in the woods through the management office, but they had never thought they could have gotten this much separated under heavy artillery and gunfire.
The tank—the tank had screwed up their whole plans. Yet, that wasn't an excuse, either, just another bitterness to his many screwups. He—he should've thought about it. He must have.
It was his job, protect them.
He lifted his head, wandering his eyes to locate Amanda—but—but the living room was empty. He frowned, just as the time Mika—the little ten years old girl came out of the kitchen.
"Oh—" the little girl meekly exclaimed, "You—you woke up, Mr. Grimes?"
Unlike her sister, the girl was timid, giving him wary looks, calling Mr. Grimes, and Rick frowned more, seeing her alone, "Where's Amanda?"
The girl bowed her head, looking at her feet, "She went out with Lizzie. There's almost nothing in the house. We found a bit water and some cornflakes," she continued as Rick stared, hearing the words but not registering… She went out with Lizzie… "She told me to give them to you when you woke up. She said you must drink water—" The girl stopped then and dashed back at the kitchen—and Rick stood up.
He was going to kill her!
This time he was going to kill her!
What the fuck she was doing taking Lizzie out to scavenge?
The girl—the girl was a problem they needed to deal with—not to take out to look for supplies.
God!
Mika came out again, holding in her hand a bottle, half of it full, the color dull, almost beige, and Rick didn't even want to think how long it'd stayed there like this—but one learned not to ask those questions in the apocalypse. The lid was still closed, so he hoped it was just dull— He gave the little girl a look. "You drunk?" he questioned, taking the bottle from the girl.
Mika gave at him another meek nod. "Amanda let us take a few sips—" the girl answered, "She said the rest is for you." She paused, giving Rick a meek look, too, "She told me to make sure you drink, Mr. Grimes."
Rick gave out a faint scoff, opening the bottle, "She drunk it herself?" he asked, even though he half knew the answer.
"I didn't see—"
Stubborn mule. Rick took a sip from the dull water, wetting his cracked lips, a sigh at the tip of his tongue. Stubborn, stubborn mule. He walked toward the window and looked through the shades. "She said where they're going?"
Mika shook her head, "No."
Rick considered his options. He should sit down and wait for her—not leaving Mika alone, or he should go out and look for them—leaving Mika alone—
Damn woman! Damn woman!
He threw himself at the couch, his wounds throbbing—his body aching— and he wished things could've been a bit easier. Just a bit easier.
# # #
All of the bizarre things she'd done in her life, this must've ended up at the first place of her top ten.
But she didn't have other option.
It was tomorrow now. And she had to deal with Lizzie.
When the sun broke, and it was morning again—Amanda had left her rather unnecessary childish nations with one certain southern cowboy where they belonged—in the dark hours of the night—and returned to reality.
It was normal. Sometimes in the dark you thought about stuff you wouldn't think in sunlight, no big deal. Everyone did it. She wasn't some sort of super-human or something. In fact, that she was even glad that she was capable of doing it, normal stuff, like other people did…that she wasn't...like the girl next to her. Sometimes…she feared…feared something was wrong with her, too…in deep down—like a taint, she felt it stirring in her depths—something in her was not like the others…that she was a misfit piece of a puzzle no one knew what to do with…best to leave her at the hospital.
Sometimes she still couldn't understand why her mother had wanted to give birth at the first place, her best explanation was that her mother somehow couldn't have understood she had been pregnant until it was too late for an abortion, and Amanda guessed it would've just suited for her life, as well… God, she really hoped it hadn't been because of her mother believed a sort of "all life is sacred" crap.
Her life had never felt sacred, not then, not now, either.
It was just a thought, she told herself, again. Just a thought. No big deal. And he—moaning the name of his dead wife in his coma—the love of his life—well, no big deal, as well. She already knew he was still pinning over the woman. She knew he still loved the woman—so no big deal.
It was morning now. She got other problems.
In the house they'd been scavenging, Amanda's eyes skipped at the tall girl.
She still didn't have any other what to do with the girl—but she knew a talk was in order, and since she knew they couldn't sit down and play with flowers like they had done before, and since she was still as cold as ice in the distress, Amanda had called for emergency supply run to build some bounding between the girl and herself—hence, the scavenging—and well, they really needed food and water.
She tried not to remember how it'd ended for her the last time she'd wanted to do some bonding with a man who had gotten his own problems… and she almost gave out a sigh, as well.
God, she never learned her lessons, never.
But she just couldn't leave the girl alone—it felt so wrong—so wrong—despite of her tendencies, it felt wrong, and she was tired of leaving people behind. The people she had left behind at Grady was still making something twinge in her chest, the way she'd moved like she always did—she-she didn't want to do it—again.
She was tired of it…just so tired of it…and FUCK IT!
She'd picked up the worst—the fucking worst time to develop a damn conscience.
Yes, the most logical and simplest way seemed like to wash their hands off the girl—but was she prepared to do that? She didn't know. And there had been times she could've given a direct answer for that question.
Her hand went to her loose hair, and she tugged at the short end with frustration—but she'd let it open. She felt like a damn teenager, swinging between different moods—one moment cutting her hair, the other tying it again—and the next opening it again—all in one fucking day.
No. She let it open this time—a bit of shamed to tie it up again—God, damn you, Rick Grimes! Damn you and your stupid speeches to hell and back!
As they were in the kitchen, looking for food—Amanda decided it was time to have a talk.
There had been three rotters inside the house—one stuck in the bathroom, the other two at bedroom, and this time Lizzie hadn't tried to feed them—not at all. They'd put them down with relative easiness, like the girl had been doing it for a long time—and Amanda remembered again off all people in the prison, the sociopathic girl had managed to bond with Carol—the woman who had killed sick people in cold blood to protect her own lot.
The inclinations were quite clear too—and Amanda had never been dumb, too.
And it was still so ironic that they'd been already dead if it weren't Carol and Lizzie.
Then again, the world always had a sick sense of humor. "Lizzie—" so Amanda called the girl, opening one of the cupboards in the kitchen, "Do you know why we killed those men back in the prison?" she asked.
Pausing, the tall girl gave her a look, "To protect each other—" she repeated Carol's words, "Because we need to be strong and protect each other."
"Yes—and because they were—bad people—" she stated the girl, as calm as she could get.
"Bad—" Lizzie asked, turning completely to her, "How do you know they were bad?"
"It's not easy to know, Lizzie. Perhaps in another life those people weren't bad, either, but here—with us, they were bad," she tried to explain, hoping the girl would make the distinction, "They—they had a chance to do the best thing for all of us. A way out. But they didn't want it. They—they chose the easy way—wanted to take what we had…all of it for themselves. They didn't want to share."
The girl stopped for a second and gave her another look, "You didn't drink from the bottle this morning," she told Amanda, "You made us drink, and told Mika to make Rick drink the rest when he wakes up."
She nodded, "Yes. Because we should share what we own. Because that's what…families… good people do. They share. I'm bigger than you and Mika, and Rick is injured. He needs water more than me. I can wait. We'll find food and water, and I'll drink then. But since then I need to wait."
She nodded, "Because that's what good people do?"
Amanda nodded, "Yes," she told the girl, "They protect each other, like you protected us. But—" she leaned toward the girl, "I know what you did with those rats and cats. You should stop it, Lizzie. I know—you…you were curious, and feel…lost, but you need to have a code. It can be your anchor."
"How?" the girl questioned.
"Hurting others…animals—and people…" Amanda tried to explain again, giving her something to keep her…anchored, a code of sorts, "You can't hurt everyone—but you can…choose. They're really some bad people and animals out there—bad people and animals that try to hurt us. Rotters—" she gestured with her head inside the house, "Dead—they're not your friends. They're like animals that we…we should be afraid of." She paused, "Is there any animal you're afraid of?"
The girl paused for a second, and whispered, "Bats—bats scared me… I saw them in a cavern once. Couldn't sleep for days."
Feeling that she caught a very good point, Amanda nodded, "Yes. Bats are scary. They drink blood, make us sick. Rotters are like that, too. They drink blood, eat our flesh, and make us sick. We—we should stay away from them, kill them if we can."
The girl gave her a look, shaking her head, "Nick—Nick was my friend."
Amanda shook her head back, too, "No—that wasn't your friend—Nick isn't with you anymore. Like your father. He's gone to another place."
"Everyone says they went to a better place," the girl remarked then, "Is it correct?"
"I don't know…" Amanda answered truthfully, "No one does, we just want to believe they have because it feels better."
Lizzie gave her another look— "That doesn't make me feel better—" She paused, too, "Mika says I'm weird—says something wrong with me—" the girl told her with a small voice, and it hurt Amanda, a twinge in her chest throbbing, "If—if I have…a code, I—I'd be a good person too?" she asked.
"I—I don't know," she told the girl, "You can try. We all can try. We all—sometimes it's the best we all can do…try." She paused, "Before all this started, there was that man, Lizzie. A very bad man. Do you know I was a cop, right?" The girl nodded back at her, "He—he was hurting children…drugging them with poison. We wanted to catch him so he couldn't hurt anyone anymore, but—but he slipped away. The world isn't always a fair place. In fact, most of times it's unfair, Lizzie, how you lost your mom and dad, and Nick. This guy…he got out. We couldn't put him in the prison. One day, though, I met him in a dark alley. He—tried to kill me—drew his gun out, but I killed him first. It was the first time I killed someone, and I wasn't proud of it, but—a part of me was also relieved—relieved that he couldn't hurt any children anymore."
Lizzie nodded, "I—I'd like to stop bad people from hurting children, too." She paused, "I'd like to have a code, Amanda."
"Good—" Amanda nodded then, feeling a bit more relieved. She knew they weren't out of the woods with the girl yet, but at least, she was beginning to understand the concept of good and bad—even though Amanda knew it'd remained such a little distinction between them nowadays—but it was still there.
Beth, Maggie, Joan, Noah, Carl, Mr. Greene, Daryl—Rick… They were all trying, struggling. Lizzie…Lizzie had to have her own chance as well like each of them.
"I know everything is very confused now with the world," she told the girl then, "We're confused most of the times as well. But we need to keep it simple, Lizzie, so we'd know what's important—" she remembered Rick's words, "It's us, and our code is very simple. We kill the dead and doesn't hurt the living unless they try to hurt us or others."
As if she understood, Lizzie nodded with a certainty, "Like those people in the prison."
Amanda nodded back, too, "Like those people in the prison."
They fell in a silence then, and less than in a minute, Lizzie drew back from his cupboard, and handed her a bottle, a bottle of unopened water, with a smile. "It's your turn now, Amanda," the girl told her, "You need to have your share."
Smiling a bit, Amanda took the bottle and had her share.
# # #
They came back half of an hour later just as before Rick was about to leave the house and looked for them. By the time she knocked on the door, he'd grown so furious, he felt something over his wounds break as pain surged over him.
Grunting under his breath, holding his side, he pushed the couch over it a little, and untied the wires they'd secured the door's knob with, and opened the door.
In their hands, they were two garbage bags, and Lizzie gave him a big smile, lifting her arm to show him her bag, "We found food and water."
Bowing her head, Amanda gave the psychopathic girl a little smile, and Rick glared, and her eyes catching his stare, her smile vanished, and she let out a small sigh.
Good.
She knew at least he was angry. Good.
He closed the door behind them and secured it again with the couch and wires. His eyes glued on hers, he ordered to the girls, "Girls, stay here. You—" he hissed at her, "Upstairs."
She let out another sigh, and turning around, started climbing up without a word.
He followed her. She went inside the bedroom the girls had slept last night and closed the door behind them. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed, his words rasping with his fury, turning to her, and walked to her closer, "Taking her out?" he asked, "Amanda, have you lost your mind?" he cried out.
The girl—the girl might've an episode—lost it… They had no idea how she would respond to what happened yesterday—the stress of loss… The girl was a time bomb, they had no inkling how to handle her. He'd passed his last half hour, thinking the ways how it would've turned to a mess—they…they should leave. He should find Carl and Judith.
He didn't have time for it.
"Rick—" she started, rising her hands in front of her as if to settle him down, "I know you're upset, but I had no choice. We need food and water, and there's nothing here, and—"
"A-and you think it's best idea to take the girl out?" he hissed out, "Are you fucking kidding me?" He barely kept a shout in him, "Why didn't you wait for me?"
"Why, you were out, Rick!" she snapped back in a hiss, "Moaning your wife's name in your sleep! Sorry!"
He stared at her. He must've heard incorrect…He couldn't…he couldn't have moaned Lori's name last night… he couldn't have… "Amanda—"
"Look—" she cut him off, "I—I needed to talk to her. We needed to deal with it. And I did—" She took a step closer, and her voice losing her agitation, it softened, "Rick—I think—I think I did. I think I managed to—reach to her. Taught her the difference between good and bad… What she should—what she shouldn't…. Told her she should have a code."
Rick still stared at her as if she had really lost it… "What are you talking about?" he asked, getting closer, leaning toward her, "Amanda, do you even hear yourself talking? You're losing it."
She drew back, flinching… "A-am I losing?" she asked back, looking at him incredulous, "Excuse me!"
He gave her a hard look, "Pack up," he ordered her, "We're leaving."
"You're not well enough!"
"I am!" he shot back, "We're leaving now. We need to get to the funeral home. And—we're leaving Lizzie."
"What?"
"We're leaving her here, Amanda—" he repeated again, this time sterner. This—this was madness. He couldn't do it. They couldn't take the risk. "We'll leave her food and water, but we can't take her with us. We—we can't risk it. We're not equipped to deal with this, you told me that. I don't want it, but we got no other choice."
She shook her head, giving him a hard look back, "We do have a choice, Rick. I told you I—"
"Amanda, stop! Stop it!" he cut off, this time almost shouting, "It's Gorman all over again. You got personal, and then got obsessed—"
She cut him off, too, "Me?" she asked, her voice rising too, her eyes widened, "You—you of all people are accusing me of being obsessed? Really?"
His face jaw setting, his chin throbbed, and he knew they were going to have a fight, and she'd started it…she had… "Okay—all right. Get on with it—Amanda… I know you're mad at me for what happened. I know you blame me. So, go on—" he challenged.
She shook her head, "God, you're an idiot!" she hissed, taking a step closer, "I don't blame you for what happened, you moron. I blame you for not seeing it what it was."
He didn't even flinch. "And what it was, Amanda?" he asked back coldly.
"A lost battle!" she hissed him back, "We—we should've left as soon as we saw that tank, Rick! You know it."
He shook his head with a derisive snort, "And go to where, Amanda?" he snapped back, "Do you have any idea what is like to be on the road?"
"You talked like you know, but you have no idea…" he told her, pressing further, getting even closer, limping on his good leg, "We passed more than six months on the road at winter, while you were at Grady, in your precious uniform and bun, making other women whore out themselves for you so you could keep watching your damn movies—" he spat as her face turned expressionless, "While as my boy—my son almost ate dog food! I stopped him at the last minute and he got angry at me for stopping him!"
He shook his head at her, another glare fixed at her, and he was furious, so furious—at her—at himself—at everything—but mostly at her at the moment, because she couldn't let it go, and did what he told her for once, "So don't stand there, acting like you know what you're talking."
Her eyes on him, she nodded, swallowing, "You're right—" Her words sounded like she was forcing them out, "I don't know. But it's easier for us to talk now, isn't it? While there's still breath left in our lungs. Tell that to Beth's father—tell that to Beth—tell it to Maggie," she said back coldly, "I'm sure they would think the same."
She shook her head, "You know what your problem is, Rick, you're a drama queen. You don't want to see what's in front of you. That man…he wasn't only bark, bark, bark, but not bite, Rick," she snapped, her voice clearing, fire invoking in it instead, "Remember your own damn words! He wasn't worth the risk, not when there was a tank involved. And you knew it, too. You just didn't want to see it… didn't want to leave your damn prison. Instead you stood there—made your stupid speech, how we all could live together—how we all could change—and look at us now."
His eyes never wavered from her as he took another step in her, and they stood inches apart from each other, "I am—" For a split of second, his eyes moved over her hair, still gently brushing over her shoulders, then turned back to her, "I am looking at you," he rasped out, "Tell me, who are you mad at really? At me—for making my stupid speech or at yourself for believing it? For believing me?" He paused, "Why your hair is still loose, Amanda?"
Looking at him back, as if she wanted to hit him, her eyes chin trembled as her eyes glistened, but she stayed in silence. Rick shook his head. "You know what your problem is—" he fired her own words back at her, turning aside to leave, "You're even a worse drama queen than me."
"I hate you!" she whispered at his back, and Rick heard tears in her tone, "I fucking hate you!"
He let out a little scoff, still walking to the door, "You hate that I'm right."
"I'm not leaving her—do you hear me?" she hissed at him then, "And I'm not going to the funeral home, either!"
His hand halted on the knob, he turned around. "Amanda—that's enough! I'm tired of your episodes—" he hissed back, "Get ready, we're leaving. And she stays."
"I told you I'm not—I'll go to the tracks and look for others. They're still out there. I'm not leaving them behind. You go and look for your kids. I'll find Maggie, Joan, and Noah."
"Amanda—" His voice raised, walking back to her, "For Christ's sake…ENOUGH!"
"I'll tell you where the funeral home is—so you can go—" she spat, and started walking too, passing him ahead. Rick caught her elbow, "Leave me alone—" she sneered as he stopped her.
"Amanda—"
"I said leave me al—" she started but a scream echoed from downstairs—and Mika called—
"AMANDA!"
Pushing him away, Amanda sprinted at the door, Rick wobbled at it too as fast as he could manage… By the time he made it out of the room and at the staircase, Amanda was already at the downstairs… "Lizzie—NO!"
Rick saw the scene, starting climbing down—The girl—the girl was holding her gun in her hand, shaking her head… "Lizzie, put the gun down—We're gonna talk about it…put it down."
"I heard you talking—" the girl told her, shaking her head, "You're gonna me leave—you're like everyone else…"
"Lizzie—I won't leave you—I'm not—" Amanda whispered, taking a step closer, but the girl shook her head again.
"You—you told me—" the girl said, looking at Amanda, and Rick wished for his gun… He—he didn't like where this was going, and he knew…he knew the girl was a ticking time bomb… He just knew it, and that was what he was trying to tell her...
"Lizzie, put the gun down—" Rick repeated her words, taking the last step, "We're going to talk about it."
Amanda twisted to glare at him, "You… stay the fuck away from this!" and Rick recognized his own words as well.
Rick took a step closer as Amanda turned back to the girl, "Lizzie—"
"You—you told me if I have a code—if I have a code—I'd…I'd be like you—good…" the girl raised the gun—
NO!
He reached out, and grabbed Amanda, and yanked her behind him, taking a step aside too to block her completely.
"RICK!" she screamed as his hand behind tightened around her wrist to keep her at his back. He couldn't let—he couldn't let it happen again—No. He just couldn't. He—he'd lost already too much.
"Lizzie—" Rick opened his mouth, but the girl raised her arm upper, then without a quick movement, she turned it to her own head, and shot herself at the head.
Rick watched—in a slow motion—like a scene from a movie—the way her body fall on the ground—and Amanda rushed from his back. Rick caught her at her waist, stopping her as the girl dropped on the floor dead—and Mika cried out—loud—so loud…
And holding Amanda tightly at his chest, Rick watched the girl over the floor as blood started pooling over her.
All right, this chapter as you can see, was very emotional, and huge.
Lizzie was a real challenge, and I wanted to create a bond between her and Amanda, like how she got it with Carol, and then I remembered Dexter, and thought Amanda would give her a chance, create a sort of code for her, like in Dexter. The thing is Rick could've never taken that risk with Lizzie, even after the girl saved their ass. I thought after hearing their talk, Lizzie would have had another episode, and losing it-understanding that she would be 'weird' no matter what, this time decides to end it-perhaps go to a better place. Lizzie's story was so sad in the show, and I wanted to try to keep it at the same way, too. Hope I managed it. This is gonna create a rift between Amanda and Rick, too, a very difficult one too because at the end Rick just put himself in front of a gun before her, to protect her, and there's that, too. So...
Needless to say, I was angling them to have that fight since the prison's fall, because Amanda needs to understand Rick's POV too-I mean, I felt so bad for Carl, trying to eat dog food at beginning of Season 3, Amanda doesn't know about that kind of desperation. And well, I just had to make them shot at each other "I hate you. You hate I'm right." like in Adaptation. :D
So, the next, will they try to find others first like Amanda demanded or will go the funeral home like Rick demanded?