Amanda is aware of noises around her before she can manage to open her eyes, which feel like her eyelids weigh ten pounds each. Whoever is in the room is speaking softly, using the tones typical of trying not to wake a sleeper. Drawing a deep breath, the nasal cannula jostles against her nostrils and makes her want to sneeze.
Enough memory returns to tell her sneezing isn't going to be pleasant. Luckily, the urge fades as she concentrates on the soft tick-tick-tick sound near her left. IV infusion machine, maybe?
Oh hell. Is Rick awake yet? How long has she been out?
Carl.
The thought of Carl jolts a spike of energy through her, fighting the groggy, hungover feeling that jumbles her mind.
Where's Carl?
She tries to speak, but her mouth is malfunctioning as much as her eyes. Her tongue feels too large for her mouth, and a random trivia bit reminds her it's probably related to medication for sedation. But her finger moves when she wills it.
Huffing her breath, she moves, again and again, scratching first that finger and then the others that begin to wiggle with it. Over and over, hoping whoever's talking will hear or look.
"Amanda?"
That's Daryl, and she manages to turn her head toward his voice. Her stupid tongue won't work right, but she gets her eyes open just enough to see that yes, Daryl is on the right side of her bed. He's not alone, though, standing behind a wheelchair that he pushes quickly to her side.
Rick looks better than Amanda expected. Better than she feels, that's for sure. What he's doing out of bed already, she can't imagine, but if he's also here, it answers her other question.
Carl's alright because Daryl and Rick wouldn't look so happy if anything happened to Carl.
"I'll get the nurse," Daryl says. He doesn't leave right away, though, circling the bed and leaning in to press a warm kiss gently to her cheek. "You fucking scared the hell out of me, baby sister."
Before she can try to apologize, he heads out of the room. Since she knows there's a call button here somewhere, he's obviously giving her a moment with Rick. Taking her hand, Rick presses a kiss to the palm, wincing a little at the movement and easing a hand against his chest.
Other than the bruising from where he hit his head when he fell, Rick just looks pale. His wheelchair has an IV connected, so he's not been set free to roam far, not yet. She's betting there's still significant bandaging hidden behind that hospital gown.
"You're awake," he says, and she wishes she could roll her eyes at him stating the obvious, but truly, she understands the sentiment. "How are you feeling?"
It takes her a minute to get her throat and tongue to cooperate, long enough she wonders where the nursing staff is. "Like the loser on a Saturday night bar brawl."
Maybe it's good painkillers, because she knows intellectually that she was shot, but she can't feel anything more distinctive in her midsection than when she had her appendix out as a teen. Her face, on the other hand, feels like she used it as a battering ram.
Rick tries to smile and fails. "You were shot."
"So were you."
He can't counter that, and the nurse interrupts anything further by bustling in to check Amanda's vitals and offer her some water to sip. By the time the nurse is done, the reason for Daryl's longer disappearance becomes obvious. Carl is standing in the door of the room, looking like he's a terrified eight-year-old instead of a legal adult.
"Amanda," he manages, voice cracking on her name. He doesn't move, and she suspects he's upright mostly because of Daryl's grip on his shoulders.
"C'mere, kiddo."
He doesn't need a further invitation before easing onto the bed and into her reach on her less injured side. Snuffling quietly, he cries even as she clumsily smoothes his hair.
"It's okay," she mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, wincing at the pain the movement causes. Thankfully, he can't see the grimace. "I'm okay."
"I ran away."
"Yeah. I'm proud of you." She truly is, because Carl running is probably the only reason she's alive, since she didn't have to worry about him and kept her attention entirely on Gorman.
"I don't understand," he says, wriggling enough to look at her. His face is splotchy and red, damp with tears. "I ran away."
"Like I told you to." It'll take more energy than she has now to convince Carl, she thinks, and he's going to need therapy worse than Amanda herself, but they'll get there.
"I saw that you moved your stuff in," Carl says, glancing to Rick, whose eyes widen. "You aren't gonna change your mind now, because of him getting in there?"
"No. I won't change my mind." She squeezes Rick's hand. "I'm keeping you both. Bastard doesn't get to take our home."
It's the right thing to say, because Rick does smile this time, a bright and shining expression that lights up his blue eyes. Her surprise got ruined by Gorman, perhaps, but he gets to take nothing else away from them.
The hospital released them both before the week was up, but instead of going home to the apartment Shane assured Rick was spotless, Rick rents a house on the coast. Not Jekyll Island, where his family vacationed when he was young, but a little further north. It's expensive as hell, even to his budget, but this is one time he really wants to splurge.
Amanda is anxious at first, since the three-story beachside house makes his penthouse look small. It's only a three-bedroom, but those bedrooms are massive, and the master has a view of the Atlantic that is what sold him on the rental when he saw it online. The heated pool and hot tub settle it for her still achy body, though.
The first few days they're in the house, Evelyn takes over one of the guest rooms. She is unobtrusive in a way Rick never expected his mother to manage, seeming content to read or paint. His and Amanda's injuries mean that complete privacy isn't advised, and he wouldn't be surprised if Evelyn has a nurse on standby, just in case.
It gives them time to rest, eating catered meals Evelyn has delivered from the nearby resort, lazing in bed for contented makeout sessions, and best of all, soaking in the pool while admiring the ocean beyond. The most Rick does in the kitchen is blending smoothies or milkshakes. Finishing up the pineapple and mango confection Amanda requested, he carries the glass out to the pool.
The gunshot wound doesn't detract from the gorgeous view he gains outside. He suspects that without the still-healing injury to her right flank, she might wear a one-piece suit. Instead, she's in a lovely conservative black two-piece that makes him wish they were cleared for activities he would want his mother on the other side of the island for.
"You gonna hold that smoothie hostage or bring it here?" Amanda teases, raising her sunglasses and peering at him in mock impatience.
Laughing, he passes her the drink, settling on the lounger next to her. "Got tired of the hot tub?"
Early November this far south is still early November, which is why both pool and hot tub are heated. He's surprised that Amanda seems to be enjoying the warmer-than-normal day just stretched out in the sun. The breeze off the water keeps it from feeling as muggy as it would back in Atlanta.
"Was getting all wrinkly." She sips her drink, yawning slightly. "What did your mama need when she called you inside?"
"Apparently, she's booked her own place over at the resort."
"What? Why? We've got plenty of space even with Carl coming down this weekend."
"She's invited your mother and Grandma Jean to come down for a week or two. Figures if she gets her own place, Lori, Daryl, and Naomi could stay, too, since it's a three-day weekend."
"That sounds like a perfect plan. I'm glad my mother accepted."
Rick is, also, because honestly, Susan McGinley deserves the pampering that Evelyn will insist on her guests receiving. He knows the past week and a half has been hard on everyone, but the elder ladies of their families aren't as resilient as they once were. He suspects Susan is as proud as Amanda about accepting casual luxury, but at least this time, it's the lure of being in visiting range of Amanda that works.
"Wonder if we could get everyone down for Thanksgiving?" he muses, considering the logistics of it. They don't have enough beds in the rental house, but he's sure they can find something nearby if need be for Shane and Merle's families.
"Depends on the bakery, but I'll bet Carol will jump at the chance to cook in that kitchen with you. I'll ask her when I call next." She yawns again, rubbing her jaw ruefully. "When will I stop needing a nap every afternoon like a toddler?"
"Are you really complaining about cuddling to sleep with me?"
As he teases, Rick feels a surge of joy that they're slipping into such easy banter with each other. He's just glad she decided to move in with him before she was shot as well, because emotions were high enough when only one of them was injured. Where he would have been bored out of his mind once upon a time, instead, he's content because she's here with him.
"Not one bit." She sits up, stretching carefully. "I am going to turn in my resignation."
Rick has expected something similar for days. The Atlanta Police Department can't afford to outright fire Amanda, not when she uncovered the corruption she did, but the reality is that she'll never be welcome there now. Worse, he's not sure she'll be safe. The other officers wouldn't hurt her directly, but showing up five minutes too slow for a distress call is enough.
"Are you going to take Shane's offer?" Changing departments won't remove all the stigma, he knows, but at least she'll be more protected as a deputy.
"Maybe." Amanda sighs, running a hand through her loose hair. "I've been thinking about going back to school."
Surprised, Rick nods thoughtfully. Leaving active law enforcement didn't occur to him as an option she'd go for, but he won't complain. Unlike him and Shane, who have degrees that aren't fully related to their careers, Amanda's is actually in criminal justice. "You want to be a lawyer like Michonne now?"
"Oh god no." She giggles at the thought. "I don't have the patience for it. I was thinking about social work. So much of what we do as cops is too little, too late. Seeing what Jesus is doing with his shelter is amazing."
"Yeah. He's doing so much good for those kids."
"I can afford the schooling and all, but living expenses…" Amanda blushes slightly.
"Pretty sure you signed on to put up with me, money and all," Rick says, leaning over to take her hands. "It's a worthy cause, sweetheart. I'm certainly not going to begrudge you going back to school full time."
At her relieved look, he wonders how long she's been pondering it. Like him, probably since he was shot. It's his turn to admit something life-changing.
"I've been thinking about a career change myself."
That startles her. "Yeah?"
"I'm human enough to admit it was too close a call not to reconsider. I don't have Shane's ambition, so where I'm at now is as high a promotion as I'm likely to get."
"What are you thinking about doing? Teaching?"
"How did you guess?" He's honestly surprised, as he's never really expressed to anyone, not even Shane, that sometimes he regrets not going into education.
"You're a history major who sidetracked into law enforcement, Rick. Teacher isn't a big leap as much as you like constantly learning new things." Amanda laughs, leaning in for a brief kiss. "Tell you what. If you do, tell your mama it was my idea so I get bonus points for her finally getting a professor son."
Rick just grins. Amanda wanting bonus points with who he hopes will be her future mother-in-law is a good thing.
Having a late November birthday means that Rick's birthday is frequently the week of Thanksgiving. This year, it's actually on Thanksgiving Day. Getting both of their families to relocate to the beach for the holiday was twice as easy with the combination.
Her lack of culinary expertise means that she was roped into vegetable prep early on, before being shunted out of the kitchen to join those watching the Macy's parade on television. With Rick healed enough to be part of the busy cooks, she settles next to Carl on the couch. Smiling brightly, he cuddles into her side as easily as the smaller kids do.
He came down the first weekend they were here, then the next, both times with Lori and Daryl. But with school letting out for Thanksgiving, he drove himself down in Lori's car Friday after school and stayed the week. Being around him so much as Rick's other half is different than being his favored aunt. Right now, it's easy, though, because he's warier of her recovery process than even she is. In time, perhaps he'll rebel a bit, but with college so close, maybe she'll get lucky.
"What balloon is your favorite?" he asks on the tail end of the debate over which is better, Garfield or Snoopy. "You're the tiebreaker."
Daryl groans and elbows Merle. "You know she'll say neither."
"Oh really?" Carl asks. "So who is your favorite?"
Working every Thanksgiving Day since Lori met Daryl has apparently kept some things secret for Amanda. "Kermit the Frog."
Carl nods, looking thoughtful. "If it's just the animal balloons, I change my vote to Kermit, too."
"Kermit's not even on this year. Garfield, neither." Merle is favoring Snoopy, like always.
"CHASE!" Naomi's excited screech settles the entire debate, as the twins join her in chanting for the little police dog.
Everyone over the age of ten exchanges a glance and concedes that they can't outvote the smallest family members. Curled against Carl, with her brothers happy and content with their children sprawled in front of the television, Amanda can't imagine a better holiday at all.
The bustle of the day has Rick more worn out than he wants to admit, so he is a bit grateful to slip away even before their guests leave for their own accommodations. Amanda disappeared even earlier than he did, claiming she got up too early after a late night when Carol, Merle, and the kids arrived the day before. When he slips into their bedroom, she seems to be asleep, so he eases into the bathroom quietly and showers.
Padding naked back into the bedroom, he stumbles to a halt, letting a slow smile bloom as he scans the sight before him.
On the bed, Amanda is no longer pretending to be asleep. Instead, she's relaxed against the sheets, dressed in a midnight blue teddy that resembles a ribbon being wrapped around her body. It flashes tantalizing peeks of bare flesh everywhere as she stretches lazily.
"Gonna unwrap your present?" she drawls, smoothing one hand from breast to thigh in clear invitation. He's never seen her so wanton, and all his prior tiredness disappears in a surge of pure want.
She's been cleared for sex longer than he has, going on a full week, whereas he just got his doctor's release Sunday. They haven't been celibate, as there are plenty of ways to enjoy each other without straining his surgically repaired ribs, but it wasn't quite the same as being able to sink himself inside her and slowly bring them both to climax.
"Maybe I want to enjoy the view," he teases, running his finger along her inner thigh to tease where the ribbon hides nothing of her arousal. "Or maybe you'll be my birthday cake."
Edited - full scene on AO3 (DarkTidings)
"I love you," he says, lips brushing her skin as he speaks.
She turns her head, cracking one eye open and gives him the goofiest smile he's ever seen her have. "I hadn't noticed."
Wriggling to her side, he realizes sheepishly her hands are still restrained and unties the ribbon. "Oops?" he says, grinning. He's only half sorry, and he can tell she knows it.
Amanda drops a hand to his side, exploring his heated skin and smiles again. "I love you, too."
If he can't help but kiss her until they're both breathless all over again, who can blame him?