THE WALKING DEAD:

"LOVE ISN'T EASY"

CHAPTER 1

The Grimes House was quiet until the front door swung open and Rick Grimes, wearing his King County Sheriff's Department uniform, stepped inside.

"Honey, I'm home!" Rick said cheerfully as he removed his Stetson hat.

Rick was greeted with silence.

Rick closed the front door, drew the walkie-talkie on his gunbelt, brought it up to his face, and pressed the talk button. "Shane, do you read me?" he asked.

The walke-talkie crackled and a voice answered, "Loud and clear, partner."

"Shane, Lori's not home."

"Well, she damn sure ain't in my passenger seat, Rick. So don't you go accusing me of stealing your wife."

"That's one thing I don't have to worry about, Shane," Rick said as he began looking around the living room. "You enjoy the bachelor life too much: a new girl every couple of months, no crying baby waking you up at two in the morning, not having to save money for a college fund…"

"Do I hear a tone of jealousy in your voice, Rick?" Shane interrupted.

"No, you don't," Rick answered as he looked inside the closet. "I love being married just as much as I love being a member of the King County Sheriff's Department."

"Goddamn, Rick. Is that your way of telling me you're going to run for sheriff?"

Rick chuckled as he closed the closet door. "No, Shane. I belong on the streets, helping you and the other deputies to keep King County safe for its law abiding citizens."

"That's cool man, so do I have to wear a suit to your swearing in ceremony?" Shane quipped.

Rick took the walkie-talkie away from his face and smiled in amusement at Shane's joke.

"So did you find Lori?" Shane asked.

Rick walked over to the staircase, looked upstairs, and listened for the sound of any movement, a few minutes later Rick stepped away from the staircase and raised the walkie-talkie to his face. "No," he answered.

"Damn, maybe she really did leave your sorry ass."

"Well, if she did, I'm fighting for joint custody of Carl," Rick quipped.

"Let me ask you somethin'…did you check the kitchen?"

Rick stopped in his tracks. "No."

"Then I'll tell you what, sheriff: if Lori's in that kitchen, you better give that woman a hug and a kiss, and tell her you love her, or one day she will leave you…probably for a stud like me."

"If that ever happens, Shane, I'll kill you," Rick quipped.

Shane chuckled and replied, "Well, before I die, Rick, I want you to know that it's all your fault."

"Goodbye, Shane," Rick replied. A moment later, he let go of the walie-talkie's talk button, and returned it to its pouch on his gunbelt.

Rick walked into the kitchen where he found Lori, standing at the stove and stirring a wooden spoon in a boiling pot; Lori wore an apron that read: HAPPY LITTLE HOMEMAKER.

"Honey, I'm home!" Rick said cheerfully.

Lori glanced up from the pot and muttered, "Great, now we can start the parade."

Rick's smile faded away and his shoulders slumpt. "You're mad again. What's the matter now?"

Lori removed the wooden spoon from the pot, placed it on the counter, and answered, "Plenty."

"And I guess it starts with the 'family sitcom' greeting I give you every night I walk through that door?" Rick asked as he pointed at the front door.

"No, that greeting is just…repetitious," Lori answered.

Rick walked into the dining room, put his Stetson on the dinner table, and ran a hand through his hair as he returned to the kitchen. "Would it help if I came up with something new?"

"A little," Lori admitted.

"All right. How about…"

Rick aimed his right index finger at Lori like it was a gun and continued with, "Freeze, sheriff's department!"

Lori stared at Rick for a moment; then she removed her apron and placed it on the kitchen counter beside the wooden spoon.

Rick lowered his hand and lowered his head bashfully. "It was a joke," he muttered.

"I know, Rick. And it was a bad one," Lori said as she turned off the stove.

Rick and Lori stood apart, looking at the kitchen floor. Finally, Rick raised his head and asked, "What do you want me to say, Lori?"

Lori sighed and raised her head. "Just….talk to me, Rick," she answered softly.

Rick nodded and took a few cautious steps towards Lori. "It was a dull shift today: Shane and I responding to a call at Wall Mart about a customer upset that they wouldn't honor her receipt—"

"Oh my God, anything but that," Lori muttered as she shook her head in frustration.

"What do you mean?" Rick asked bewilderedly.

"Does everything in this house have to revolve around King County Sheriff's Department?" Lori asked in frustration.

"I'm proud of being a sheriff's deputy," Rick said.

"I know," Lori agreed.

"My dad was a sheriff's deputy; I'm carrying his gun," Rick said proudly as the palm of his right hand came to rest on the grip of the Colt Python revolver on his hip.

"Just stop it, Rick. Just…stop it," Lori pleaded.

Rick opened his mouth to speak, but he reconsidered and said nothing. Lori walked over to the kitchen window, and folded her arms across her chest. Rick watched Lori worriedly; he walked towards her, and put his hands on her shoulders.

"What's wrong, Lori?" Rick asked.

Lori looked over her shoulder and her expression softened, "I love you, Rick…."

Lori's eyes started to water, and she covered her face with her hands and faced the kitchen window again.

Rick gently pulled Lori against his chest and wrapped his arms around her stomach as she cried.

After a few quiet moments, Lori wiped the tears from her eyes and said, "Rick."

Yeah?"

"Carl skipped school today."

Rick let go of Lori and took a step backwards. "What?"

Lori turned around and faced Rick, her eyes were red from crying. "Carl skipped school; he went to that new casino in Atlanta."

Rick blinked. "What new casino?" he asked bewilderedly.

Lori nodded. "The one that's been on the news; The El Dorado."

Rick shook his head in disbelief. "Carl was at a casino?! That doesn't make any sense."

"That's what I said when that Atlanta police officer called and told me he found our son at the poker tables."

"Wait a minute: how the hell did Carl get all the way to Atlanta?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell the officer or me."

Rick put his hands on his temples as he tried to comprehend the shocking news about his son; after a few moments he noticed that Lori was glaring at him again.

"Oh, I guess you're going to say that this is my fault because I'm never home. Well, I have to work, Lori!" Rick said angrily.

"No. It's your fault because Carl told me that you said it was okay!" Lori retorted.

Rick's eyes widened and his complexion turned pale. "What?"

"You heard me, Rick! After the officer brought Carl home, I asked him what he was doing in a casino, and he told me you said it was okay!"

Rick shook his head again in disbelief again. "I…I never said that!"

"Carl insisted that you did."

"Where is Carl now?" Rick asked.

"I sent him to his room," Lori answered as she gestured upstairs.

Rick turned around, marched out of the kitchen and into the living room, where he stopped beside the staircase and looked upstairs. "Carl!" he shouted.

"Yeah, Dad?!" a young voice replied.

"Get down here now!"

Rick heard a door open and close; a moment later Carl was running down stairs like he had an A+ school paper to show his father. Carl wore blue jeans and his atomic paw print T-shirt.

"Yeah, Dad?" Carl asked happily as he stepped onto the living room floor.

Rick put his hands on his hips and glared down at his son. "Is it true that you skipped school today?" he asked angrily.

"Yeah," Carl answered casually.

"And is it also true you went to that new casino in Atlanta?"

"Yeah," Carl repeated with the same tone.

"What were you thinking?!"

"You said I could go."

"Carl, I never told you it was okay to go to a casino. So not only did you skip school, and go to Atlanta alone, you also lied to your mother!"

"But I didn't lie, Dad!" Carl cried.

"Don't raise your voice to me!" Rick scolded.

"I begged you for days if I could go to the El Dorado, and you said it was alright!"

Lori stomped out of the kitchen and shouted, "Rick, why didn't you tell me—"

"Lori, not now!" Rick shouted as he turned towards his wife.

Lori huffed angrily and walked back into the kitchen.

Lori glared at Rick for a moment; then she huffed angrily and returned to the kitchen. Rick looked down at Carl again and saw his son pull a hand of playing cards from his back pocket.

"I found these cards on one of the poker tables, Dad. Aren't they cool?" Carl asked as he shuffled the playing cards in his hands.

"There's nothing cool about them, Carl. I'm very ashamed of you!"

Carl stopped shuffling the cards and looked up at Rick with wide, sad eyes. "I just wanted to help, Dad," he whimpered.

"You just wanted to help?" Rick asked in disbelief. "How does all the stupid things you've done today help anyone?"

"Dad, we all have to pitch in if we're going to make it."

Rick suppressed a curse, but he threw up his hands to reveal his frustrations over Carl's bizarre actions. "What are you talking about, Carl?"

Carl looked down at the playing cards in his hands; suddenly a stream of blood spilled onto the playing cards.

"Carl?" Rick whispered frightfully as he watched the playing cards in Carl's hands get covered in blood.

Carl raised his head, revealing a deep, bleeding cut across his throat. "I'm sorry, Dad," he gasped weakly.

Carl dropped the blood stained playing cards and then he fell to the floor.

Lori screamed from the kitchen. A moment later a blur rushed past Rick and in the next moment he saw Lori on the floor in front of him, holding their bleeding son in her arms.

"Carl! Oh, my God! Carl!" Lori cried hysterically.

Rick shivered in fear and his heart pounded inside his chest as he watched Carl bleed out.

"Save him, Rick!" Lori screamed.

Lori's voice was like a slap to Rick's face; he drew the walkie-talkie on his gunbelt, brought to his face, and pressed the talk button. "Shane, do you read me?!" he asked.

Static crackled over the walkie-talkie.

"Shane, answer me!" Rick pleaded.

The static continued to crackle.

"Rick, do something!" Lori cried.

Rick dropped the walkie-talkie, tore off his uniform and wrapped it around Carl's wound. "You're going to be okay, Carl," he promised.

"I'm…sorry….Dad," Carl repeated, more weakly.

"No. No! It's my fault, Carl!" Rick cried as shut his eyes. "I shouldn't have said it was okay for you to go to the El Dorado! I should've made you stay home!"

Rick opened his eyes and looked down at Carl: the torn uniform wrapped around his throat was soaked with his blood; his body was pale, his eyes were wide and dull.

Carl was dead.

Lori pulled Carl's body out of Rick's arms and embraced it tightly. "Carl! Carl!" she cried hysterically.

Rick was panting like he'd run a marathon; the back and underarms of his T-shirt were soaked with sweat, his heart now was pounding hard enough to explode. "No. No. No," he repeated quickly as his mind teetered on the edge of insanity.

"How could you let this happen?!" Lori cried as she glared at Rick through her crying, red eyes. "Why didn't you protect him?!"

•••

Rick's eyes shot open and he sat up screaming, but his forehead hit something solid and it knocked him onto his back. Rick grumbled angrily as he shut his eyes and his hands covered his injured forehead.

A minute later, Rick raised himself up on one elbow, as his blurry vision began to clear. Rick looked at his surroundings and realized he had been sleeping in the bottom bunk of his cell at the West Georgia Correctional Facility. It was a nightmare, he thought with relief.

The sounds of shouting voices and running feet made Rick look at the cell's doorway, and a second later Carl and Michonne were standing outside. Rick quickly noticed that Michonne wielded her katana, and Carl held his Beretta 92FS pistol.

"Rick…" Michonne gasped as she tightened her grip on her sword.

She thinks that when I woke up, I discovered that I was bitten during our escape from the El Dorado, Rick thought frightfully.

"I'm all right. I'm all right! I just had a nightmare!" Rick explained quickly as he held up his hands.

Michonne looked at Rick again, and after a few tense moments, she sighed with relief and lowered her sword.

Rick threw off his blankets, swung his feet out of the bottom bunk, and sat on its edge with his head in his hands. He was so relieved that Carl's death was only a nightmare, he didn't care that Michonne could see him clad in his boxers, T-shirt, and socks.

"Dad?" Carl asked timidly.

Rick looked at the cell door again to see Carl step past Michonne and into the cell with his pistol at the ready.

He thinks I was bit, too. Smart boy, Rick thought proudly.

"I'm all right, Carl," Rick smiled reassuringly. "I'm sorry that I scared you."

Carl lowered his Beretta 92FS pistol and flicked its safety to the "off" position. Tears ran down his face, and he ran over to Rick and threw his arms around his neck. "I thought….I thought you were…" he wept.

"I know, son. I know," Rick said as he put his arms around Carl and hugged him tightly.

After a minute, Rick let go of Carl and looked at Michonne. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Eight fifty-five in the morning," Michonne answered. "I know that's not your usual wake up time, but we all thought you deserved to sleep in."

"After the nightmare I just had, I won't be sleeping again for a long time," Rick admitted as gingerly touched the bruise on his forehead.

"What was it about?" Carl asked.

Rick looked at Carl and his memory flashed to the nightmare of his son dying in Lori's arms, with his King County Sheriff's Department uniform wrapped around his throat and soaked in blood. Rick closed his eyes and shook his head to drive the image away. When Rick opened his eyes, he tilted Carl's chin up and saw the gauze bandage across it. The bandage was covering up the scratch that Sora Miyaguchi, the leader of the El Dorado group, had put it there with his katana, when he briefly took Carl hostage. That scratch had also been the cause of Rick's nightmare; if Sora had run his sword across Carl's throat instead, he would've bled out in seconds.

Rick let go of Carl's chin; he then took the battered Stetson hat off Carl's head, tousled his hair, and answered. "I can't remember."

Carl, blushing because his father just embarrassed him in front of Michonne, took his hat from his father and put it back on his head with the brim pulled down over his eyes. Rick stood up, reached for the top bunk, and got his jeans.

"Does everyone know what the itinerary for today is?" Rick asked Michonne as he put his jeans on.

Michonne nodded. "Tyreese's organizing a group together that'll move the supplies we brought in last night into storage. John's organizing another group to clear the walkers along the fence line, Maggie's showing the El Dorado group around the prison, and you and Glenn are going to plan for tomorrow's supply run."

"I also have to dig a grave for Juan," Rick reminded Michonne as he walked over to the cell's sink.

"I didn't think I needed to remind you of that," Michonne said.

"You didn't." Rick retorted as he turned the cold water faucet on and watched the water spill out of the spout.

"How's Marianna?" Rick asked without looking over his shoulder.

"Donna told me she's in her cell. She won't eat or talk to anyone," Michonne answered.

Rick put his hands on the edges of the sink and shook his head regretfully. A moment later, Rick cupped his hands underneath the running faucet, and splashed the cold water onto his face.

"Tyreese offered to help you dig that grave," Michonne said.

"When I said I'll do it myself I meant it," Rick replied as he turned the cold water faucet off. Rick then reached for the towel on the shelf above the cell's sink.

"Hershel will handle the funeral."

Rick wiped his face with the towel, folded it, and returned it to the shelf. "I know."

"I don't think you'll get many volunteers for tomorrow's run, even if the goal is to build an outdoor kitchen," Michonne said.

"I'll go alone if I have to," Rick said as he grabbed his shirt from the top bunk and put it on.

Carl looked up eagerly at Rick. "Dad, can I—"

"You're staying here, Carl," Rick interrupted firmly.

Carl sat down on the lower bunk and sulked, even though his father had allowed him to go along on the run to the El Dorado.

"Rick," Michonne said.

Rick sat down on the bottom bunk alongside Carl to pull on his boots, and looked up at Michonne.

"Daryl and I are going to hunt the Governor."

Rick looked at Michonne and said nothing.

"I know that you're going to say I tried finding him, but Daryl's a better tracker than me. And I know he's out there. And if he comes across another group…"

Rick looked down at his feet, pulled his last boot on and said, "I understand."

Michonne nodded, stepped out of the cell, and walked towards the common room. Rick to his left at Carl, who was looking down at the floor.

"You've done your part for the group already, Carl," Rick said comfortingly.

"Yeah," Carl grumbled.

"I'm proud of you," Rick said. He then remembered Carl watched Lori die from an emergency Cesarean Section, to bring Judith into the world. "Your mother would be proud of you, too," he added.

Tears ran down Carl's face and he wiped them away quickly with his hand.

"I need you to stay here this time. Help guard the prison and look after your sister."

Carl didn't look up at him, but he nodded in understanding.

Rick then looked down at the crib in the left corner of the cell; sleeping inside that crib was his baby daughter Judith, swaddled in pink, cotton blankets. I can't believe she slept through that screaming, he thought in disbelief.

Rick tapped Carl with his elbow gently, and when his son looked up at him, he asked, "Did Judith wake up earlier?"

"Yeah, about an hour ago," Carl answered. "Beth tiptoed in, took Judith to her cell, and changed and fed her," A moment later Carl chuckled and added, "You were out like a light."

"What about you? Did you have breakfast?"

Carl's eyes widened and he gasped in shock. "Yeah! Frosted Flakes cereal and powdered milk!"

Rick smiled and said, "I remember how much you love that stuff. I hope you saved me a box."

Carl nodded quickly.

Rick stood up, walked across his cell, and knelt down beside the crib; he picked up the sleeping Judith, returned to his bunk, and sat down beside Carl again. Rick looked down at Judith and smiled; Carl looked down at Judith and smiled, too.

I almost lost Carl yesterday at the El Dorado, when I add the time he was accidentally shot last year it makes for two close calls, Rick thought. Is this world ever going to return to the way it used to be? When Judith gets older will she also be risking her life whenever she walks past those fences?

Rick cradled Judith in the crook of his right arm, while he put his left arm around Carl's shoulders and pulled his son to his side. I wish Lori were still alive. I can't raise my children all alone.