November 10, 2010
Gloria's garage is now an infirmary for the entire small community. What was once a typical two car space is now unrecognizable except for the fact they left the door workable for moving equipment in and out in the future. Insulation and a heated coil floor added over the concrete makes the room amazingly warm for less energy output. Morgan, Merle, and Daryl's combined ingenuity is impressive with construction.
Shane eyes the hospital bed on one side and standard exam table on the other. If he didn't know this was a garage, he could almost see it as any other medical space. But he isn't here to admire the equipment or renovation effort, is he?
When Lori enters from the main house where she was visiting with Denise, he eases away from the counter and sink installation and smiles nervously. The young doctor graces him with a gentle smile, belying the fact that Shane knows she fought alongside the other survivors in her group to get Enid and Gracie out of Virginia safely. Hershel follows them, not speaking to Shane, but seeming content enough to be in the same room.
At twenty-five weeks pregnant, Lori looks further along. She's put on weight recently, according to Carol, but none of the medical folks are resting easy yet. Shane is surprised when she hugs him, returning the embrace automatically. The baby moves between them, protesting being squished. "Feeling okay today?"
She just snugs her face into his shoulder for a minute before moving away with a smile. "Yeah. Today is a good day."
Since she doesn't elaborate, instead using the small stool to step up to get onto the exam table as Denise pulls the ultrasound machine over. When Lori raises the blousy maternity shirt up, Shane recognizes why everyone worries so much. If she looks too thin while clothed, seeing her swollen belly and too sharp hip bones drives the point home. She never had weight to spare, and now, that's even more obvious.
Not for the first time, Shane curses his carelessness in those summer days at the quarry. This is the first time he truly understands how risky this pregnancy is, and why Lori considered ending it. As Denise squirts gel on Lori's belly, he reaches out and takes Lori's hand and squeezes lightly.
It earns him a distracted smile, but Lori's attention is mostly on Denise and the machine. "You ready for this?" she asks him quietly.
Lori has seen the baby before, since Hershel has been using ultrasound regularly to track the baby's growth. But today is the first time Shane gets to see the baby live on screen. He is nervous as hell, but he also can't wait. "Yeah, I think so."
"Look at that. She's sucking her thumb," Denise comments.
Shane realizes he wasn't truly prepared for this moment. Seeing printed ultrasound photos is nothing compared to seeing his daughter flutter on the screen. Her tiny hand is distinctive, thumb firmly in her mouth as Denise says. His heart constricts in his chest, and it is a little hard to breathe.
Even more amazing is what he hears when Denise flips a switch on the machine and the steady whomp-whomp-whomp of the baby's heartbeat fills the room. Jesus… instead of reminding him of the clinical, unyielding machinery of Rick's monitoring equipment, this sounds like hope concentrated as a steady music. Lori finally looks at him, gaze understanding. "It's a beautiful sound, isn't it?"
"Absolutely." Shane is already a father, he knows, but this is such a different experience. It tugs at him the same way though, the same feeling as knowing the older kids look to him as their safest place in the world.
"Everything is measuring right on track. With four weeks of steady growth, we can hold off on any more ultrasounds until the third trimester." Denise smiles brightly, pressing the button that makes the machine's printer whirl busily.
"That's good news," Shane replies gruffly, voice catching as he still tries to process what he is seeing.
"It is. But I can still use the fetal doppler, right?" Lori asks, rubbing her hand on an ungelled section of skin.
"That's fine. It's important to stay reassured and calm. We're getting close to the third trimester, and the farther along we can get you, the better."
"Is premature labor that likely?" Shane asks, wondering at Denise's matter of fact statement about pregnancy milestones.
"It's hard to say. Extremely premature, not so much. But I doubt we'll make it to full term," Denise answers. "But as long as we make it to the end of January at least, we should be okay."
The idea of a premature infant in a world with no NICU is terrifying, but that's the worst case scenario. Everyone says Lori is doing better now, and Shane understands that the psychological pressures easing for Lori are a large part of that. "Whatever you need, we'll make sure you and Hershel have."
Eastman is their standby, but he admits obstetrics was never his strong suit. It isn't Denise's either, but she seems more committed to it. Shane thinks Lori prefers a female doctor for this anyway, considering she had one for delivering Carl.
He lets go of Lori's hand to accept the small slips of paper from the doctor, finger tracing the outline of the baby's nose. "Takes after mama here, thankfully," he jokes.
Lori laughs, looking pleased as she resettles her clothing after Denise wipes away the gel. "She won't get hers broken multiple times in a year, we hope."
Shane hopes so, too, but he doesn't see this child growing up with something to prove the way he did. "Is it safe to talk to the younger kids yet?"
Denise and Hershel exchange a look, seeming to consult without words. Finally, the old man sighs. "I would wait a while longer. Perhaps tell them at Christmas. That'll be the thirty-two week mark."
"Okay." Shane can't protect the older kids, because he was right that Sophia told Patrick. The teen would have sussed it out himself anyway. But should something happen, Molly and Luke will have a harder time reconciling it than Shane's teenagers will.
A jaw splitting yawn from Lori makes them all laugh. "She was bladder dancing last night. Has her days and nights backwards."
"Well, feel free to switch yours," Denise advises. "No one will begrudge you extra naps."
Shane is a little surprised when Lori frowns. "I wanted to sit in on Merle's class."
"You know he would go over anything with you separately, right?" Shane tells her.
Merle's small shop turned classroom doubles as a gathering place for the various groups. Sophia's suggestion of a skills classroom is turning out to be a wonderful one. The redneck is a natural born teacher, apparently, especially for survival skills. They don't just stay indoors, either. Yesterday, Shane found him and his students outside holding a fire starting class.
"You think he would?"
A little surprised that Lori seems interested in the foraging class when she rarely seemed curious back at the quarry, Shane nods. "It's not hands on yet. Start now, and you'll be ready for the woods by spring."
When Hershel says he'll walk Lori home, Shane leaves them to join one of the teams going out for more firewood collection. They probably have enough for two winters now, but it'll just rot away uselessly out there. Might as well collect it as insurance, especially if they find more survivors and need to expand into the last two houses.
The ultrasound photos ride in his shirt pocket all day, a small reminder that not everything that came before Sophia saving him in the moonlight was a mistake. In a different world, maybe he and Lori could even overcome their differences. But with the scarring on his chest as a daily reminder, it wouldn't be healthy for either of them.
Having Michonne living with him is a daily example of the healthy relationship he needs to have, as a man and as a father. There are no skeletons between them to ignore or tuck away. It is ironic that the first time he truly lives with a woman, they aren't even sleeping together by his own insistence.
That thought is heavy on his mind as Shane showers that night. When he gets out of the shower, facing the mirror is no longer a twisted mix of memories of shaving his head after Otis or the raging infection after Rick. Pressing on the scarred flesh reminds him of how little sensation is left there, and for the first time, he wonders how women deal with massive changes like mastectomies.
His mother had a double mastectomy, he remembers. As a teen, it wasn't something he wanted to focus on. Like any boy, Shane didn't want to consider she had breasts to begin with. But now? How did she feel when she had to face her body looking so drastically different? His scarring isn't even on that level, yet still makes him uneasy to face.
"Shane?" His name is followed by a sharp rap of knuckles on his bedroom door before it opens and closes. He never shuts his door except if he's changing or showering, so he would know it's Michonne even without the voice. None of the kids would venture in.
"Bathroom," he calls out, wrapping a towel around his waist just as she comes into sight at the door. "Andre asleep?"
The assessing, interested look Michonne sweeps over him is flattering to his ego. Her slow smile, even more so. But she meets his eyes at last. "All of them are, actually. Long day with early hunting trips."
It was an early rising day for most. Each of the experienced hunters took a pair of teenagers out in a different area, everyone on the lookout for turkey. Daryl, Carl, and Sophia encountered the only ones today, bringing back two.
"Before long, Beth, Sophia, and Carl will be training adults themselves," Shane tells her. It had been a little odd, having Beth following him and Duane, but the older teen lived up to Daryl's quiet bragging on her skill. Shane would never guess she only learned in the last few months. They didn't bring back a turkey, but Beth bagged a deer with that bow of hers.
"Might be an interesting way for me to learn." Michonne smiles, leaning against the door frame. "Was coming to tell you that Merle is begging off tomorrow's hunt. He's got another raw spot under his prosthetic."
Shane pauses in reaching for his toothbrush. "That doesn't seem to be letting up. Maybe we need to make a run to some prosthetic lab? Bet we could find something that would suit."
As Michonne considers that, he cleans his teeth, wondering at the easy domesticity of discussing the next day's plans like this. It sets him at ease in a way nothing has in a long time.
"I bet the university has some kind of program. We would need a big group to raid in Atlanta, though, even just to Georgia Tech."
"Call up a meeting tomorrow and plan it out. Maybe combine the trip with something else we need in the city?"
Michonne nods thoughtfully. "I'll snag Aaron and Daryl tomorrow."
Errand handled, Shane thinks she will leave, like she usually does, but she seems content in watching him get ready for bed. She's already done that herself, dressed in pretty pajamas with her dreads covered. Reaching for the shirt he draped across the toilet and its precious cargo, he plucks the ultrasound photos out and shows them to her.
"Makes it seem so very real, doesn't it?" Michonne says softly. She sounds a little wistful. "Did you hear the heartbeat?"
Nodding, he slips by her, ignoring the frisson of want that shoots through him, feeling her that close. "I forgot how jackrabbit fast they are. Rick always babbled about it with Carl."
Michonne takes the prints to the nightstand and slips them inside for him. "Different knowing and hearing, right?"
She keeps her back turned, giving him just long enough to swap towel for the loose pajama pants he sleeps in since he ends up with one or more children sleeping in his bed by morning most days. "It is."
Her eyes are on him again, still with that patient interest she doesn't bother hiding. "Know what I was thinking about most of today?" he asks her.
"Baby names?" she asks, arching a brow.
Shane laughs, shaking his head. "Like the ladies in my life are going to let me do more than have a final veto." Not that he minds. He's just so happy to be a welcomed part of the baby's life, he can't imagine being fussy over what she's named.
"Then what?"
Stepping closer, right into her personal space, he grins, hoping he hasn't lost his knack with that particular charm. "This."
Ever since it popped in his head how damned happy he was just living under the same roof earlier, his mind keeps drifting to this. Kissing her isn't the instant thrill of touching a new woman, intent on a night or three with no commitment. Instead, it's an intoxicating moment of layering emotion upon emotion as she parts her lips easily for him.
Christ, Michonne tastes like nothing he expected, and he knows the groan he makes sounds more like horny teenager than grown man. She winds her arms over his shoulders, urging him closer and deepening the kiss. He can feel her smiling as they kiss.
Shane isn't sure how they end up sprawled on his bed, losing himself in kissing her. He doesn't think he's made out so contentedly ever in his life. But oxygen does become a priority, so he raises up and smiles down at her.
"That was worth the wait."
Michonne shifts her hips under him as she grins slyly, and he groans as it reminds him just how worth the wait it was. His body feels aflame with desire, something he hasn't had a flicker of in months. Honestly, he almost worried about the lack of physical interest, even after Eastman assured him it was perfectly normal after the level of trauma his body recovered from.
"It certainly was," Michonne replies, her tongue swiping at her kiss swollen lips. "How far are we taking this tonight?"
Now that he's kissed her and understands how she responds, a very insistent part of him wants them naked five minutes ago. Due to the thin material of her pajamas, he can feel enough of her to imagine what it would feel like to be skin to skin. Shane dips his head, pressing his lips to where her pulse is fluttering in her throat before he answers.
She trails her fingers along his spine, making him shiver and move against her. "It's okay if we keep waiting."
That makes him roll, changing position so that they're side by side and not pressed so closely that all his thinking is concentrated below the waist. Shane strokes his palm along her bare arm, loving the silky smooth feel of her skin over deceivingly powerful muscles
"I don't have a good track record with this."
Michonne surprises him by laughing softly. "Neither do I. We'll figure it out, I think."
If anyone can help untangle the mess he made of himself in the past six months, Shane knows it will be Michonne. With her lying here next to him, the idea of her leaving to go back across the hall makes him uneasy.
"I want to wake up next to you," he admits quietly, taking her hand and kissing the palm. "And not just tomorrow."
Her smile turns wicked even as she kisses him, so he's not surprised at all when she pushes him to his back to slip astride his thighs. After she takes both of his hands and wraps them around the bars of the headboard, what comes next isn't quite what he expected. Shane can't miss the feel of her laying a trail of kisses along the rippled scars. It's not the first time she's touched them, but her lips seem like a much deeper declaration than fingertips.
Edited scene… full scene on Ao3
When they've both caught their breath, Shane eases up the bed to stretch out against her, tangling their legs together. She makes a sound close to a purr as he idly explores what he couldn't earlier.
"We should probably shower," Michonne suggests after a few content minutes lying together.
"Already showered," Shane pretends to grumble.
"You turning down a shower with me?" she asks, slipping out of the bed and sashaying her way to the bathroom.
"Hell, no." Second shower it is.
If the shower finishes off the hot water, they no longer have a house bursting at the seams, and exploring every inch of her gorgeous body with soapy fingers is damn near heaven.
But even better is spooning behind her, breathing in the clean scent of her skin, and knowing there are untold numbers of nights falling asleep beside her ahead of him.
A/N: I didn't want to bump the rating for a single chapter when the bulk of this story is about mental health recovery and building a family, not smut, so this is pretty heavily edited. The Ao3 version is uncensored lemon.