Chapter Six
Sitting with Carl in the late afternoon, Rick listens to tales of his young son's life during the last month. He thoroughly enjoys every word, even when Carl complains about how unfair it is that Kelly makes him read and do math problems every day.
"Come on, Dad. School only ended one week early due to the virus so it would officially be the summer break now anyway," Carl says, lifting his foot to thwart the mount of a curious spider.
"Doesn't matter," Rick answers. "New world, new rules." Sitting on a pair of camp chairs next to the neatly stacked pile of firewood that he and Carl had just replenished, he glances across the campsite to see Shane bark orders to his minions while Ed and Merle sit lazily in front of their tents. She was right.
When Erin comes out of the camper, Carl's voice drifts away like a receding tide as Rick's eyes take full control of his five senses. He watches her cross to the fire pit with an armload of pasta boxes and a smile on her pretty face as she says something to Sophia on her way. The jeans hugging her curves are as tight as her hair is loose, the auburn curls swaying behind her head in a messy pony tail.
She leans down to adjust the kindling beneath the large pot suspended on the tripod straddling the fire. Sticks in place, she stands again and wipes a finger against her cheekbone before brushing a fist across her forehead, staring at the lighter in T-Dog's hand as the man reaches down to ignite the wood.
Did he think she was pretty before? Now, with a dark smudge of soot decorating her cheek and her brows drawn together in contemplation, she is absolutely beautiful.
He had really enjoyed their conversation earlier - other than the painful parts when she was ripping his skin off - and was truly amazed at everything they had revealed to each other in such a short time. They had fallen into a comfortable rapport very quickly and it felt natural to speak so freely about himself, something he rarely does. Watching her now, he looks forward to sharing more stories with her in the future.
When Shane and Kelly join them at the slowly spreading fire, Rick's gut hardens when his best friend touches a hand to Erin's shoulder as he asks her a question. Though he didn't let it linger for long, it was still too much for Rick's liking. Back off, Shane! She's too good for you, he thinks and is surprised to feel his fist in a tight clench. Hell, she's way too good for me too. And if I can't have her, at least I can protect her.
He relaxes his fingers, releasing his grip on the sudden desire stirring inside him; the irrational desire to throw Shane over the ledge and into the quarry four-hundred feet below, and the fiery desire to throw Erin over his shoulder and take her into that camper like a God damned caveman.
He shifts in his seat as a slight ache in his balls reminds him that he hasn't had sex in over two years. Until now, he hadn't missed it all that much – or rather, he hadn't missed the strings that went along with having a sex life. He wasn't lying to Shane that day in the hospital when he'd told his friend that he'd rather spend his time with his son.
His back straightens as a sharp surge of neurons electrifies his spine for a fraction of a heartbeat. Looking at Erin now, the emergency room of Northside Hospital jumps to the forefront of his mind, then disappears a split second later leaving him to wonder where the image had come from, and why the connection feels vaguely important. Before he can dissect the idea, Carl's voice breaks into his thoughts, pulling him out of the shadowy corner of his mind.
"Did you hear me, Dad?"
Rick turns his attention back to his son while Erin lifts a bottle of spring water to her lips. It takes a tremendous effort to keep his focus away from those lips. "Sorry, bud. What were you saying?"
"I said maybe we can take Dale's boat out tomorrow and go fishing."
"Sure, if he doesn't mind."
Before Rick finishes his sentence, Carl pops up from his seat and runs up the small slope toward the camper. The boy looks up to the man sitting on a lawn chair perched on the roof of the Winnebago, peering out from beneath his favorite hat to keep an eye out for the threat of walkers. "Dale, can me and my dad use your boat tomorrow?" Carl asks the elderly man.
"Only if you promise to catch some big fish for us," Dale responds.
"We will. My dad's a great fisherman!"
"I know. I saw that picture of yours. Good luck finding something that big in this lake." He grins, nodding respectfully at Rick.
Rick waves his hand in a brief acknowledgment. He really likes the old guy, recognizing his strong sense of integrity and morals. The world needs that now more than ever.
Turning quickly at the sound of a breaking stick, Rick sees Daryl walk out of the forest behind the woodpile. With his crossbow slung over one broad shoulder and a string of squirrels in the other hand, the hunter nods at Rick briefly as he strides toward the table he uses to dress his kills. The husky trots after him.
"Hey, Daryl! Me and my dad are taking Dale's boat out tomorrow." Rick watches his son walk a few paces with the quiet man, his freckled face beaming with excitement and pride – a complete contrast to the reticent stature of the hunter.
The redneck stops, looking back at Rick for a moment before looking down at the boy again. "That's cool, little man. Remember that dark patch I told you about? That's where you should take your old man."
"Okay," Carl responds brightly. "Can I watch you skin the squirrels again?"
Daryl looks at the sheriff for approval before answering the boy.
"It's fine with me if you don't mind," Rick tells him amiably.
"Nah, it's okay. I don't mind him," he says to the ground in front of Rick's boots.
"Hey, Daryl…," Rick says as the man turns back toward his destination. When the hunter turns again to face Rick, the sheriff continues, "Thanks for keeping my family fed out here. Really," he says sincerely.
"No problem," the hunter answers, meeting Rick's eyes for the briefest of moments before walking away.
With their bellies not entirely stuffed but full enough from dinner to keep the hunger pangs away until morning, the majority of the group relaxes around the campfire as the crickets sing from the darkness of the woods surrounding them.
Carl pokes a long stick in between the rocks circling the fire, testing how far his father will let him reach. It doesn't take long before Rick places a stern hand on his shoulder, signaling it was far enough. The boy looks up at his dad from his tree stump seat situated between Rick and Erin's lawn chairs.
Ed's raised voice reaches their circle as the man yells at his wife and daughter from inside their tent about thirty feet away. Erin hears it at the same time Rick does and tilts her head at him with raised eyebrows. I told you.
He nods at her briefly over Carl's head, acknowledging the disturbance. I hear them.
She tilts her head forward as her eyes widen with purpose, demanding and accusatory. Do something!
His brows draw together, nodding once at her, sharply. I will, settle down.
She makes a move to stand and he rises quickly, shaking his head at her and then angling his chin at her chair. No, you stay here.
She nods in acceptance and settles back into her seat. Fine.
"Well, that was the strangest conversation I never had." Rick shakes his head slowly, giving Erin a tight smirk.
She grins back at him, appreciating their wordless exchange.
As Rick takes a step toward the arguing voices, Shane stands from his seat across the fire pit and holds a palm up to him. "I got this." Rick watches Shane throw another small log onto the dying fire and walks over to the Peletier's tent.
"Everything alright in there, Carol?" Shane asks, standing just outside the zippered flap as looming shadows shift upon the nylon walls from the illuminated lantern inside.
"This don't concern y'all." Ed's deep voice responds irritably and Rick tenses, still standing and ready to back up his old partner if necessary.
"We're fine, Shane. I just spilled something," the woman's voice calls out quickly. "Have a good night," she says cheerfully enough, sounding perfectly calm despite the obvious argument.
"You just let me know if you need anything, Carol," Shane replies. "Okay?"
"I will, thank you. Goodnight," she says abruptly, dismissing him.
Shane returns to his seat with a shake of his head. "She says they're fine. Nothing I can do."
Rick looks at Erin and raises his brows as he lifts a shoulder. That's that. She answers with a smirk that tells him that she doesn't believe Carol was being honest. Neither does he actually but he's not going to push it tonight. "I'll keep an eye on them," he tells her quietly, reinforcing the promise with a nod of his head.
"Thank you."
The smile she gives him makes him want to give her the world.
They settle back into comfortable conversation as the band of survivors talk quietly around the campfire while the Dixon brother's keep watch from the roof of the RV. Rick listens for more sounds from the Peletiers, though less obvious about it than the redhead. Every few minutes he sees Erin cock her ear toward their tent, listening for sounds of distress from her friend. But the family remains quiet as the fire burns low.
Rick catches his son trying to stifle yet another yawn and his heart swells, unbelievably grateful that he is actually there to see it. Thank you, God – or whoever else is running this show. He's about to tell Carl to go to bed when his sister takes the wheel.
"I think it's time for you to go to bed young man," Kelly says to Carl from her chair on Shane's right.
When the boy begins to protest, Rick drapes his arm across his son's thin shoulders. "I'll come with you, Carl. I'm exhausted, you can tuck me in." He winks at his son and is rewarded with a wide grin. "Goodnight everyone," Rick says, rising from his seat.
Carl stands and walks behind the chairs to give Kelly and Shane each a hug, and then completely surprises Rick when he stops to hug Erin as well before they head off to bed. His twelve year old son had never been very expressive with his emotions and to see him so touchy-feely now says a lot about what he has been through the last few weeks. He feels terrible for not being there for his only child when he would have needed him the most, and now he just prays that he is strong enough to protect Carl from the horrors of the new world.
Slipping her shoes off outside the tent, Erin unzips the door flap and steps inside, nearly kicking Rick's feet and unsettling Nikki who is curled up at the foot of Carl's cot. She catches herself and re-zips the flap before moving quietly to the left to reach her own air mattress. Exhausted after taking watch with Glenn for the nine to midnight shift, she places her fading lantern on an overturned crate and picks up the red tee shirt that she sleeps in. She glances behind her at her bunkmates to see Kelly on her cot facing the wall and Carl's small form huddled into a ball on his own cot between Kelly and Rick. She sees just enough of the boy's dark hair sticking out from beneath the blanket to know that he is also facing the far wall. A final glance at Rick shows him sleeping shirtless, lying on his right side, facing her bed with the blanket pulled up to his waist. In the soft light of the lantern, she sees the faint line of pink scar tissue that she had exposed that morning and she smiles, remembering all of his laughing curses during the last few sutures.
Turning back to face her bed, she pulls her dark blue Emory University sweatshirt over her head, followed by her dusty tee shirt and bra, tossing the garments onto a small pile at the foot of her mattress. She pulls the red shirt on in the middle of a yawn and sluggishly removes her pants to slip into the black running shorts that she wears to bed. Adding her jeans and socks to the laundry pile, she quietly slips beneath her blanket and reaches up to turn off the lantern. Her hand stills an inch from the knob. Though his eyes are still closed, the smile lifting the corner of Rick's mouth tells her that he hadn't been sleeping for the last few minutes while she'd changed her clothes.
"Well, goodnight sheriff," she says softly with more than an ounce of sarcasm lacing her smile as she turns the knob on the lantern, leaving them in shadows.
"Goodnight, Erin," he says cheerfully from the murkiness in front of her, clearly pleased with himself.
Lying on her left side with her hands curled under her chin, she opens her eyes in a band of silvery light as the moon shines through the mesh window above her. She sees a pair of blue eyes watching her from a few feet away. The smile is gone, replaced with an expression of tenderness that causes the flutter in her belly to tingle warmly as they hold each other's gaze. After several lengthy heartbeats, with his gaze still warm upon her face, she smiles shyly and closes her eyes to the night.
Erin returns to her tent as the camp continues to hum with early morning activity. Stepping inside, her socks slip slightly on the smooth nylon floor. "Rick?" she says softly to the sleeping sheriff.
She hears a barely perceptible moan from the mattress but his eyes remain closed, not surprising her too much knowing that his body is still healing from the coma. He is lying on his back with his left arm angled above his head while his right hand rests against the gray shorts covering his hip, the blanket twisted around his bare legs after being kicked off in the rising temperature of daybreak.
Kneeling in the narrow aisle between Rick's mattress and hers, she places a hand on his shoulder to gently wake him. "Rick?"
He moves his head toward her voice and opens his eyes slowly, giving her a strange look through a veil of haze. "You woke me up."
"Uh, yeah. I'm sorry, but Glenn wants to know if you want to go back for your car this morning," she tells him, slightly nervous from the accusing look on his face.
"No, I mean… not now. Before. I remember you. You were wearing burgundy scrubs. I remember you," he repeats softly, cocking his head and giving her a glazed look as if a dense fog were slowly lifting.
"Yeah, you saw me at the hospital on Easter Sunday." She smiles, happy that he actually remembers her from that day.
"No, well yes, that's right," he says, squinting at her as if summoning a distant memory. "But that's not what I mean. You woke me up… from the coma," he says slowly, as if trying to make sense of the words as he speaks them. "You were yelling at me because the hospital was on fire or something. Then we ended up by the lake. There was a duck with three babies in the water," he says, peering up at the tent ceiling but she knows he is focusing on the image of a lake.
Sweet baby Jesus, he dreamt it too! She smiles wistfully, remembering the serenity of the pretty lake. "Actually, it was four ducklings in the water."
"It was three," he insists, looking at her again.
"No, the fourth was trailing back - he came out from behind a bush," she replies softly as a lump swells in her throat. "You just didn't see it."
"Oh my God, but you did." He shifts to his side, leaning up on his right elbow. "We really were there, weren't we? You really woke me up, Erin," he says, taking her hand in his.
"I guess maybe I did," she says, suddenly overwhelmed as she feels a pressure building behind her eyes in the form of unshed tears.
"Wow. Um, thank you," he says and then shakes his head. "God, that sounds so lame. I mean, hell, you saved my life." He falls back to the pillow, pulling her hand with him and covering it with both of his as they rest against his flat belly.
Erin looks down at their joined hands and drags a knuckle to the corner of her eye with her free hand, wiping the salty moisture on her jeans. "You're welcome." She grins through her tears as he squeezes her hand inside both of his, warming her skin and making it feel as if it has waited all its life to be held right there.
"How the hell did you find me, Erin?" he murmurs, gazing into her eyes as he strokes the back of her hand.
She shakes her head, wondering about that herself for the hundredth time since he showed up yesterday. "I don't know," she replies softly. "But it was an awfully pretty lake," she says with a smile as another tear seeps from the corner of her eye. She wipes it away as the warm thumb coasting across her hand brings a sense of calm to the incredibly profound moment.
"Yes, it is." He smiles warmly at her and she knows he is picturing the rock they sat upon. "It's by my grandfather's cabin in Woodland."
"I know. I recognized it in a picture Carl showed me after I had the dream. That was a very nice fish you caught, by the way," she tells him, sniffling as her eyes brighten with amusement.
"Oh, that picture," he chuckles. "Carl is so proud of that shot. Yeah, that was a big one." He grins at the memory. "I'd like to get back down there someday. I'd love to take you there." He smirks at the eyebrows she raises at him. "For real I mean. You should see it in the fall when the leaves change. It's beautiful."
"I'd like that," she says sincerely, smiling warmly at the thought as she continues to absorb the shock of all that has transpired.
He holds her gaze for a moment and then sits up, bringing her hand to his mouth. He presses a brief kiss to her palm and sighs heavily. "So I guess I'd better get up if I want to get my car back, huh?"
"Probably." She stands up and he releases her hand as she turns toward the open tent flap. "I'll tell Glenn you'll be out in a minute." She says, finally swallowing the lump of emotion that has lodged itself in her throat since his astounding discovery.
"Thanks, Erin. Um… for everything. Really."
She turns back at the deep sincerity in his voice, knowing just what he is trying to say. The tenderness in his gaze steadies her trembling hand as she reaches for the tent flap. As a sense of peace envelopes her, she nods her head and smiles thoughtfully. "I'm so glad you listened to me."
She steps out of the tent with a lightness that she'd never felt before, believing that everything will be okay somehow. Despite the current, dreadful state of the world, she knows she'll be alright as long as she continues to see him outside of her dreams.