October 10, 2010
"Shane?"
He wakes at the hesitant voice in his doorway. It takes him a minute to recognize Molly as he blinks away sleep. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
She makes a hiccupping sound, so he sits up, sliding his feet to the floor. "C'mere, Molly."
The reason for her hesitance in approaching becomes obvious when she takes a couple of steps forward. The unmistakable whiff of urine reaches him even as she hugs herself.
"Hey, kiddo, it's fine. These things happen."
Shane's grateful for Michonne's caution that children often revert in many ways after trauma. He knows that, in general, from training as a deputy, but the reminder that he's not just responsible for passing vulnerable children off to a social worker now was necessary. He tugs the girl in for a hug.
It surprises him just how clingy the two younger kids are, craving physical contact. Him, Michonne, and the other kids are all fair game. Molly's wary still of both the other grown men, but Luke's joined Andre in the Merle duckling parade here and there if Shane's busy. He hasn't left their little compound since the children came into his care.
Then again, Merle and Morgan suspended their search for Daryl and the others to make progress on the fortifications of their home territory instead. Shane doesn't think any of them feel comfortable venturing very far yet.
The children aren't the only ones with nightmares about the Claimers.
Molly accepts the comfort, crying softly against his chest for a few minutes, and they both ignore her wet pajamas. It reminds Shane of Carl being sick once, while Lori was out of town at her grandmother's. The boy vomited all over Rick, but instead of worrying about cleaning it off himself, his brother concentrated on calming the panicky child and cleaning him first.
He thinks it is the first time he's thought of Rick without that wrenching combo of loss and guilt coloring the memory so painfully he can't breathe. Rick isn't perfect by any means, but there's an example in his relationship with Carl that Shane can draw from now.
Shane smooths Molly's barely there prickly hair on her head. An infected set of sores on her scalp made shaving what little curls she had necessary, but she doesn't seem to mind. All three of the rescued children are sporting hair shorter than his own for now, courtesy of Sophia and her clippers. The boys weren't letting Molly go bald without company.
"Let's get you in the shower, alright?" he suggests once she's quieted and just resting against his shoulder. She nods, and he carries her to his own bathroom, because the girl is fascinated with being allowed to shower instead of use the bathtub.
Setting her on her feet next to the shower stall, he adjusts the water to the lukewarm she prefers. He puts a towel and washcloth out. "Just put your wet things in the bucket by the sink and get washed up. I'll go get you some clean clothes."
Molly nods mutely, already tugging off her pajama top as he heads out of the bathroom. All three of the other kids are awake in their bedroom. The new bunk bed houses Patrick and Luke, letting Molly and Sophia share the original bunk bed.
"Is she okay?" Patrick asks, sounding worried.
"Just a nightmare," Shane reassures the kids. "She's taking a shower."
He starts stripping the soiled bedding off the bed. Sophia sits up and slides down the ladder. "I'll take her some clothes," she offers.
Shane thanks her, glad that Michonne's foresight in knowing nighttime pull ups leak leading to having a protective mattress pad on the bottom bunk already. He makes a mental note that they need to get one for Luke's bed, just in case, since they only had the two for full sized mattresses. Michonne and Andre have taken over Merle's old room at this point, although the big redneck currently prefers the couch to moving into the camper he's set up inside the compound.
Tossing the wet sheets and blanket in the washer, he strips off his own shirt, knowing he might as well change it after picking Molly up. Sophia's in the bathroom with the younger girl still, even as Michonne peers out her door. Like the kids, she wears pajamas, although he somehow doubts she wore pastel kitten motifs in her old life.
"Everything okay?" she asks. Her dark eyes flicker down to the heavy scarring on his chest. He resists the urge to cover the ugly, twisted mass, but it's a close call that he doesn't.
"Molly wet the bed," he explains softly, even though she probably guesses that from the bedding going in the washer.
"Do you need me to help?" She steps out in the hallway, shutting the door gently behind her. Andre sleeps like only toddlers can, so starting the washer won't wake him, but voices sometimes do.
"Sophia's in with her, but it might not hurt."
Michonne steps past him, brushing against his back as he adds detergent to the washer. He shivers a little at the unexpected contact before deciding to wait and start the washer with Molly's clothes in it too. Grabbing the Lysol out of the bathroom, he sprays a mist over the mattress to chase away any remaining sour scent in the room before making up the bed with fresh sheets and a blanket. Luke is back asleep and Patrick not far from it, both seeming to trust he'll look after Molly.
When he returns to his room, Michonne has the girl bundled into a big towel, chatting softly. The bucket he uses to treat workout clothes and his undershirts is pushed out into the bedroom, so he takes the wet things and goes to get the washer started. Figuring the girl probably could use a warm drink before returning to bed, he ventures into the kitchen.
He isn't surprised to see that Merle's awake.
"Which kid's having a bad night?" he asks softly when he sees Shane.
Shane still isn't sure what the burly man said to make Luke comfortable in his presence, but the more the man gives small tidbits of advice about dealing with children recovering from abuse, the more Michonne and Shane both confirm Merle's a survivor himself. It explains a lot about both Dixons, if Shane lets go of his prejudices and really analyzes a lot of their behavior from the quarry.
"Molly." Shane fills the kettle and sets it to boil. He reaches for the canister of Nido, measuring out enough milk powder for Sophia and Molly both. He's not going full cocoa, like Michonne makes, but more something his mother made when he was young. Adding cinnamon to both mugs, he checks the kettle, and it's just warm enough to dissolve the powder now.
Michonne will probably want a cup of tea before she returns to bed, so he puts the kettle back on the burner. He's stirring honey into the mugs when Michonne and the girls venture out into the kitchen.
"Here I was going to make cocoa, but that smells almost as good."
"There's water in the kettle still," Shane tells her.
Sophia reaches for the mug with a soft smile. It's not the first time he's made it for her after a nightmare. "Try it, Molly. It's really good."
The younger girl frowns into her mug. "Warm milk?"
"Not just milk." Sophia offers her mug to Michonne for a taste.
"Cinnamon and honey." Michonne smiles. "Maybe I should try this instead of tea."
Shane can take a hint. He gets another mug out and makes one for Michonne, too, before shutting the burner off.
Molly ventures to sip at hers. "It's sweet. Like our breakfast oatmeal."
"Shane's mama used to make it for him when he was little," Sophia tells Molly.
"Really?"
"Well, she made it with regular milk, but the idea is the same." As an adult, his schedule was often erratic enough that buying milk was a gamble. Switching to the Nido powder solved most of that issue, especially since he could take the powdered milk camping or hiking when he got the chance. The added bonus is that it doesn't taste like watery crap like the other brands of powdered milk. Milk has no business being low-fat.
"We have milk, though?" Molly questions, looking sleepy.
"I've never tried warm goat milk," Shane says. "Maybe tomorrow at bedtime." They boil the goat milk to pasteurize it, but they also fast chill it after. With more kids in the house, he suspects it'll get used faster now.
Sophia takes hers and Molly's empty mugs to wash. "C'mon, Molly. Let's get to sleep so we can go fishing in the morning after chores."
Right now, Molly and Luke's chores are more following the three older kids around and watching, but they do it faithfully, fascinated by the animals and plants. Patrick probably shouldn't be doing as much as he does, but there's a fine line between protecting him and letting him recover at his own pace.
Both girls hug Shane and Michonne, and Sophia crosses the living room to 'ruffle' Merle's buzzcut. Her reward is a gruff laugh and an order to get her scrawny butt in bed. She giggles, but the interaction has Molly eyeing their oldest resident with curiosity instead of wariness.
"You scoot off to bed, too, Molly Dolly."
The eight-year-old girl surprises Shane by giggling and trotting off after Sophia.
"Girl's about decided I ain't gonna bite her," Merle mumbles, yawning and rolling over. "You two go flirt on your end of the house."
Shane laughs, shaking his head at Merle's pretended grumpiness. If the man actually minded the regular sleep disturbances of being in a house with five kids with high odds someone will have nightmares of some variety each night, he would sleep in his camper downstairs. Michonne is smiling as she washes her mug and places it next to the girls'.
"Morning is going to come awfully early," she murmurs.
Shane agrees, heading for his room and hearing Michonne behind him. The laundry can be switched over in the morning. He's surprised when she actually follows him instead of returning to her own bed, easing the door shut.
"Everything okay?" he asks, echoing her earlier inquiry unconsciously.
"I overheard Molly telling Sophia she is afraid we will get bored of her and Luke like her uncle did."
"Oh, hell." Shane starts for the door, but Michonne stops him with a palm laid gently in the center of his chest. He shivers, just like in the hall, and twists away slightly so she's no longer close to the scarring.
It earns him a concerned expression, but she concentrates on the more important topic and drops her hand. "Right now, we're all sort of making it up as we go, but maybe we should treat them like Andre. Routines, much like they would have if the world hadn't ended. Bedtime stories, family game time, as set a schedule as we can manage."
It's not like Shane's never followed a little kid's routine before. He's been babysitting Carl for overnight visits since the kid could walk and gave up the bottle.
"You think the older kids won't rebel at being read stories?" Sophia more often than not reads to Shane anything she finds intriguing, not the other way around.
"I think they'll enjoy it. They might still read on their own or other activities after the younger ones go to sleep, but I suspect if you offer, your audience will number at least four. More when Morgan is away."
"Okay. It can't hurt to try. And all the other sitcom stuff, too." Hell, half the reason he hung out at Rick's as an adult was to enjoy the sometimes almost scripted American family routine Rick and Lori implemented around Carl. It wasn't how his childhood went, with a single working mother.
Michonne smiles. "Merle's told me how Sophia used to be a little wallflower before. You just need to help them bloom the same way you did her, but Molly proved my prediction tonight. In distress, her safety net was coming to you, not me."
He thinks of Molly's fragile little frame, so much smaller than Sophia, and still far too light for her age. It's hard to remember Carl that small, probably because he was so full of energy at that age. But once she knew for certain he wasn't upset, she curled into him like there was nowhere safer in the world. It reminds him of that night weeks ago, when Sophia cried herself to sleep on his shoulder in the car, even after he told her the sins that made him a poor guardian.
Shane doesn't intend to tell the younger children his past, not anytime soon. Patrick, perhaps.
"I can't help but think it's a sign of the world gone crazy, with me raising kids like them. Before, I never wanted to be a dad, you know."
"Many people don't feel a pressing need to become parents until after it happens to them. Maybe in the old world you would have remained content with being an occasional uncle. Or maybe you just never let yourself believe you deserved it."
Michonne steps closer, her dreads hidden under the colorful silk she sheathes them in at night. It makes her smile stand out more, even when it's a slow one, more assessing than reassuring.
"We haven't spoken directly of the family you're missing, Shane, but what came before doesn't disqualify you from being able to love those kids. It certainly won't stop them from loving you."
"They'll never be my family again, Michonne, not after what I've done. Even if Merle finds them all alive and well tomorrow, I can't ask for forgiveness." His voice cracks under the strain to not raise it in protest.
"I was a monster who treated my best friend's wife as if she were a possession to keep, especially after I heard about the baby. I was willing to steal Carl from his own father." The pain in his chest and his throat feels like it'll strangle him as he moves to his worst crime. "I tried to make my brother kill me because I was too much of a damned coward to do it myself."
That hand is back, but this time, Michonne deliberately places her palm against the gnarled flesh. He tries to back up, but there's nowhere to go as his thighs contact the bedside table.
"This," she presses firmly against the scars, "does not define everything that you are, anymore than scars on your wrists would. You need to remember that you weren't the only one to blame in all that happened. There's no way it happened in a vacuum of only your choices."
"Mine were the worst ones."
"Not all of them. You didn't have to save Sophia. After you did, you could have brought her to Morgan and left her with hooes he might reunite with your wayward partner eventually. You didn't have to keep taking in strays into your home."
"You're naming things I've done to atone for my mistakes."
"Perhaps. But people don't change their entire personality to atone for sins, Shane. The caretaker and protector these kids need you to be, the father figure Sophia already loves? That's who you already were." Michonne lets her hand fall away from his chest, and he feels a little bereft.
"Only because I had to keep Lori and Carl safe. Once I lost them, I lost it."
"Grief is a powerful, mind altering emotion, and you've been suffering under its weight since before the world fell. Admitting you have a right to grieve is how you let go. Will your family forgive you if we ever find them? Perhaps not, and it's their right not to. But if you don't forgive yourself, you'll never heal enough for them to see you've changed."
"I don't know how." He hasn't cried since that night in the woods. It feels selfish and his life devolved due to selfish disregard of his family. But he wants to now. "I couldn't be patient and let Rick adjust and learn the world and how to forgive me for Lori."
"Shane? It's alright to be angry with them, you know. With her, especially. You weren't the only one making mistakes, and her insistence on keeping your child and Carl from you? That's selfish. She didn't do it because it was safer for the children. She did it to try to hide from her own guilt."
He shakes his head. "Being angry took me apart before. I lost everything good by being nothing but angry. I can't do that again."
"I won't push, not tonight, but we're going to keep talking about this until it isn't festering and convincing you that you're less than a good man."
"Why?" He searches her face, desperately trying to understand why she is pushing.
"Because we live in a world where being good isn't as easy as it once was. You're my friend, and I don't intend to watch you walk back into the darkness alone."
Shane swallows hard, still against the bedside table even though she's given him space now.
"Sleep on it for now. Trust my judgement. Trust Sophia's and Morgan's and everyone else's here." Michonne makes her way to the door. "This is your second chance. Make it worth it."
Then she's gone, leaving his door open so he can hear the kids in the night. It takes him a while to move and climb into bed. He feels exhausted, as he always does after the subject of the Grimes comes up, whether verbally or only in his mind.
He doesn't understand her insistence on him viewing himself as a good man, not at all. But the wounded part of him that threw away his family in anger and pride and hurt wants so badly to believe she's right.
If Shane falls asleep with a pillowcase damp with something other than sweat, that's between him and the quiet of the night.
A/N: in case any readers are unfamiliar with my writing and tendency towards exploring rare pairs, if you haven't guessed, this story is moving very slowly toward Shane/Michonne. If that's not your cup of tea, I understand. There's plenty of really good Richonne out there, but Rick's happily ever after in the Hell series is yet to come.
I will also forewarn that I don't intend to explore Virginia as a separate location, so some Virginia characters may get appropriated to Georgia. That's the thrill of AUs. ;)