Chapter Sixty
Standing by the elevator doors, Rick shifts his duffel bag to his left hand and reaches with his right to press the button marked with a downward pointing arrow. The nurse's station buzzes with the usual drone of activity behind him as he waits for the elevator to reach the fourth floor. He hasn't felt this good in days and he is really looking forward to going home. With Erin. And then to the cabin. With Erin. He still can't believe she is truly his. He is undoubtedly the luckiest bastard who had ever walked the earth. Not only did he survive a gunshot that left him in a coma, but he came out on the other side with the love of his life, his soul mate.
His mom used to say that the good and the bad things would always even out. So maybe he had to go through something completely awful to gain something so incredibly wonderful. It was definitely worth it. She was worth it. And through it all, maybe he even learned a few things about himself. Maybe he is worthy of the love of a good woman, capable of honoring the promise he'd made to her with a red bandanna under a giant oak tree. That vow may have been sworn in a dream, but it still sings deep in his soul. In his heart she is already his wife, but he will cherish the day he can make it official with a true wedding band.
Looking across the ward, a ribbon of warmth fills his chest as he watches Erin talking to a doctor over a small rolling cart. He is reminded of another morning when he'd peered across the emergency room and seen a lovely young nurse handling a difficult patient. She was bold and beautiful and he had fallen for her the moment her elbow had connected with the jaw of the insolent Easter bunny.
Watching her now, with a burgundy tee shirt tucked into faded blue jeans, she still carries herself like the professional she had been before changing out of her nursing scrubs an hour ago.
The elevator hums and then stops with a slight rattle of the cables. The doors slide open and he steps to the side, clearing a path for the four figures emerging from the cab as he holds a hand against the doorframe to keep it from closing in again. Looking back at Erin, he catches her eye and lifts his chin in question. You ready? She holds up one finger to him as she listens to the doctor, an older man with a large belly and a thick white beard who could sit in for Santa if he'd wanted to trade his white lab coat for a pair of red pajamas.
A woman in nursing scrubs steps into the elevator, giving him a tender smile filled with the steel-toed compassion that these special creatures are made of. When she glances at his hand upon the door and asks if he'll be going down as well, he looks back at the redhead still speaking with Dr. Santa, and then lowers his arm to free the elevator to another floor. Releasing a slightly impatient breath, he drops the duffel at his feet and leans his back against the wall to wait out the discussion being held across the ward.
A figure moves into his peripheral view and he turns his head to see a man in dusty gray sweatpants and a jaggedly sleeveless tan flannel shirt walking on crutches, the soft plod-creak-plod rhythm advancing toward him as he watches Daryl Dixon navigating the hallway with a full-casted leg and a painful expression. He looks awkward and angry and Rick's heart goes out to this stranger who doesn't seem too strange at all. Fighting the urge to help the man – a man whose guarded trust was won in a dream – Rick stays with his back pressed to the wall and a discreet eye on his surreal friend. He breathes low and deep, calm and collected from the knees up, but he can't keep his right foot from twitching as he watches the long greasy hair swaying into the squinty eyes that he felt he'd known so well. Only a few feet away now, he stares down at the boot below his black jeans, straining so hard to hold it still until it is forced into action when the left crutch catches on the carpet and Daryl lurches forward, stumbling in a twister by the elevator doors.
Five weeks in bed may have slowed him from a cougar to a lazy house cat, but Rick is still quick enough to get his hands beneath Daryl's arms to keep him from tumbling all the way to the floor. When the man is steady on his one good leg and the crutches are firmly in place at either side, he relaxes his hold but keeps his gaze locked on the beady blue eyes peering back at him. Despite the hesitation etched on the man's face, Daryl doesn't look away. He meets his gaze for a strangely mesmerizing moment, and then Rick can almost see his body physically curl inward. "You okay?" he asks with an encouraging smile and a slight grimace as he rubs a hand over the dull ache throbbing against his tender ribcage.
"Yeah. Uh, thanks," Daryl replies, his voice as patchy and coarse as the stubble decorating his chin. "You?" he asks, aiming the question at Rick's boots.
"Yeah, just a little sore still." Rick watches him nod his head in sympathy, his heart open for a brief moment before he quickly raises the wall that he'd long ago built to protect it. He wants to ask Daryl how he is doing, but bites back the words before they can leap from his tongue. He'd love to invite him to share a cup of coffee, like they'd done so many times in a convoluted memory, but he chokes down the offer and drops his eyes to the floor, a space that stretches farther and farther between them like a deep dark chasm with a crumbling bridge to cross. He misses his friend. With nothing left to say, he swallows the strange knot in his throat and lifts his gaze back to the oddly bashful expression on Daryl's face. "Well, good luck to you."
"Thanks." Daryl shifts his weight on the crutches, his mouth curving into a frustrated frown.
"Hey, don't be discouraged," Rick says, happy to find some words to prolong the encounter. "You'll get the hang of those things soon enough. Just takes some practice. Just keep telling yourself it's only temporary."
"Yeah, ain't gonna end up in no walker," Daryl grumbles into his chest. "Rather be fightin' a whole herd of walkers." He looks up suddenly, his squinty eyes now as big and round as a deer staring at a pair of oncoming headlights.
"What?" Rick asks, his heart tripping inside his chest as he watches Daryl screw up his face in a hopeless effort to retract the words he'd just spoken. "What was that about a herd of walkers?"
"Uh…," Daryl stammers, appearing extremely nervous as he chews on his bottom lip. "Somethin' I seen on TV."
Could it be? Rick gives him a cautious grin, treading lightly as he extends an offer of camaraderie; a pledge of loyalty that he hopes compelling enough to soothe a frightened animal. Come on, Daryl. Trust me now like you trusted me then. "I think I saw the same thing. An old zombie apocalypse flick where this group of people were trying to survive together." Daryl meets his eyes and Rick gives him a knowing smile, validating a distant dream. "They were camped out at an abandoned quarry for a while before they were forced to move on."
Daryl holds his gaze, confounded relief shining bright in his eyes. "Yeah, and then they found a farm," he says, his voice filled with a thick wedge of faith.
Rick can't keep the smile from spreading further across his face as he shakes his head slowly. "It was a helluva show, brother."
"Hey, Daryl," Erin says, joining them in front of the elevator doors. "You're looking good with your new legs. You'll be back on your bike before you know it."
"Not soon enough," Daryl groans with his usual flair for moody bitterness, but a wide grin transforms his face completely as he moves the crutches forward and swings his weight between them. "I'll see ya 'round, sheriff!"
Smiling like a kid on Christmas day, Rick watches his friend maneuver down the hall. "Count on it!" he calls to the retreating plod-creak-plod as Erin steps into his side. He puts his arm around her and watches Daryl turn his head to leave a final parting remark.
"Take care of our nurse or I'll put an arrow in yer ass!"
Rick laughs, welcoming the image displayed on the silver screen of old memories in his mind; a scruffy redneck at his side with a loaded crossbow aimed at a group of walking dead. "You know I will!" He hears a murmured 'I know ' between the creaks as Daryl turns the corner around the nurse's station.
"What was that all about?" Erin asks, looking up at him after watching Daryl hobble away.
"Just sharing old war stories. Come on, Red. Let's go home."
...
Erin watches the cabin getting larger and larger as Rick steers the Toyota up the dirt road, the array of patchwork on the roof coming into view as the woods give way to a large clearing. She spares a long glance at the front porch as he parks in front of the short flight of steps, but the pretty lake sitting outside her window draws her heart. The great willow tree resting on its bank calls to her like a dear old friend, and an eternity of wishing and waiting drifts away in the rippling water that holds its reflection. Getting out of the car she murmurs a brief response to Rick's voice, a vague reply to a question she hadn't really comprehended. She is slightly aware of him carrying the grocery bags into the cabin as she walks toward the water, her hand raised to feel the whispery texture of the leaves as she passes by the willow. The familiar rock formation at its side beckons her company and she spreads her arms for balance as she steps up to the surface, and keeps them spread as she walks to the center, as if embracing the lake itself as she listens for an old familiar quack. Disappointment threads her thoughts when she doesn't see or hear the little ducklings, but she knows they are out there and takes comfort in that as she enjoys the peaceful serenity of the lake. A minute later, Rick warms her back as his arms slip around her belly, the feel of his lips heavenly on the side of her neck as she closes her eyes and tilts her head, moaning softly as the sun watches from above. When his tongue dips into her ear she moans deeper as a torrent of gooseflesh races up her arm. A sharp little quack echoes over the water and she opens her eyes with a stifled squeal of delight. "Honey, look," she whispers, keeping her voice low in deference to the tranquil setting as she sees the family of ducks floating beneath the trees across the lake. "There they are."
"Mmm… all five of them," he breathes against her neck, tightening his hold around her middle.
"Exactly." Turning in his arms, she drapes her hands upon his shoulders and lifts her chin to meet his lips. He pulls her full against him and she parts her lips as he angles his mouth over hers. His tongue is smooth and silky and his hands are warm and wonderful as they rediscover her body, caressing her curves from the crown of her head to the cheeks of her ass. She clutches his blue plaid shirt in two trembling fists as he sets her flesh on fire. With passion blazing an urgent need from his center to hers, she lifts a knee to his hip in an effort to bring them together. She tangles her fingers in his hair as he grinds against her, squeezing her rump as he drops his mouth to her throat.
"You up for a little skinny dipping…," he asks, panting and pleading. "Or would you rather ravish me in the bedroom?"
"Bedroom," she replies, just as breathless as her heart pounds fervently and her little flutter quivers with anticipation, eager to dance to the tune she was taught in a dream. "Now!" She lifts her chin high as he nips at her neck. "Later… we dip." Lowering her head once more, she finds his mouth and invites him in, parting her lips after a few ardent pecks fuel the heat that burns like wildfire on their tongues. He tastes so damn good she could kiss him forever – but forever will have to wait, for the need to feel him inside her, joined at the hip in the most intimate way, outshines her hunger for his savory tongue. "Please, baby. Take me to bed."
"As you wish." He takes her hand and guides her down from the rock, and then sweeps her from her feet like a bride.
"As much as I'm enjoying this, didn't Morgan say no lifting anything for a few more days? You better put me down, honey."
"Nah, you're light as a feather."
Entering the front door, she swivels her head to take in the warm earth-tones coloring the den and kitchen. It's all exactly as she remembers it from the dream, except for the two brown grocery bags sitting on the kitchen table. Kicking off her sneakers as he carries her into the bedroom, she also notices the same stack of books waiting to be picked from the nightstand. The tan sheets are cool against her back as he lays her on the bed, the red and russet blanket already turned down toward the footboard.
His knee nudges hers apart and she spreads them wide, her hips rising to meet his arousal as he settles on top of her. Rocking slowly against each other, fully dressed but fully charged, she looks up to glimpse a sea of tenderness in the beautiful blue eyes gazing down at her.
"I love you, Red."
Her reply is absorbed in the texture of his tongue when he descends upon her mouth. In a flurry of ardent kisses and caresses, her clothes are shed until she is lying naked beneath him, squirming against him as sparks of fire lick at her flesh. Her muddled mind is drowning in a river of desire when he rolls to his back, pulling her with him until her inner thighs are burning against his hips. He holds himself at her entrance and guides her down his length. Her breath hitches and she pulls back slightly, taking her time to acclimate to his thickness. Moving slowly, she lowers herself inch by magnificent inch until he is buried deep within her walls. Mindful of the wound beneath the bandage at his ribs, she rests her hands upon his chest and rolls her hips, bringing him in again and again and again.
Her soft moans mingle with his as she moves over him. She is lost in the rhythm of their coupling when her hands are lifted and her fingers threaded through his. Palm to palm, she squeezes his hands and moves faster, the pleasure budding low in her belly and blooming toward each and every nerve ending with every thrust she greets. In to the hilt, out to the crown, over and over he fills her, blurring the lines of him and her, he and she, you and me, until they are one; one body, one heart, one soul.
A tremor of heaven is buzzing in her belly when he suddenly releases her hands to clutch her waist. On the edge of frustration, she holds in a whimper as he sits up and wraps an arm around her lower back.
"Let's slow this down a little," he says, his breath a bit ragged. Holding her in place, he dips his mouth to the tip of her breast, caressing her flesh with gentle fingers as his tongue glides over the peak, already hardened into a tight pebble of sensation.
Forced to lean back over his arm, she clutches onto his shoulders and grips the back of his neck, slightly pulling at his hair as she tries to keep from squirming on his lap. He is so thick and deep inside her, filling her with an intense heat as his mouth ignites a small fire upon her chest, his teeth sparking the ember as his tongue fans the flame. When he blows a gentle wind over her heated skin she arches her back even further, her long hair pooling over his knees as she lifts her bosom closer to his mouth once more. He places a quick parting kiss to the breast glistening with his saliva and moves to her other peak. His weight shifts slightly beneath her as he switches hands, the other arm now wrapped around her waist, and then it moves lower until she feels a nice grip on her rump, squeezing her pleasantly as he lifts her up and down, moving her just enough along his length to satisfy her without sending him into orbit. "God, that feels good."
"Slow now," he whispers against her breast, and then her nipple is caught between his teeth again.
She moves slowly over him, her focus torn between the dazzling bonfire he has stoked upon her chest, and the exquisite storm raging through her apex. She keeps her motions small, intent on making their union last, but it isn't long before she is chasing the storm surge and despite his hold, she begins to roll her hips to catch it. When he finally lies back on the mattress she moves to sit up straighter, but a thumb at her entrance has her arching her back again as her hands clutch the sheets beside his thighs. "Oh God."
"I love you, Erin."
"I love you back. Sweet baby Jesus, Rick…always." He circles the slick nubbin at her opening as he thrusts hard and fast inside. When her world explodes and she falls to his chest with her legs trembling and her belly in quivers, she clutches his shoulders as he clutches her back, riding his own wave of ecstasy with a fiery moan beneath her. In all her life, and in all her dreams, she'd never felt anything quite like it.
Nothing had ever filled her senses so completely; the scorching warmth of his chest touching hers, the sound of his heart beating furiously beneath her ear, the scent of his musky maleness wafting through her nostrils, and the ever-so-satisfying taste of his skin upon her tongue. She licks the sweat from her upper lip and an image of the newly purchased Reddi-wip pops into her mind, along with the lascivious grin he'd given her when she had put it in the shopping cart. She groans low in her throat, wallowing at the missed opportunity as she thinks of all the things she had planned to garnish in this bed. With her face buried in his neck and her chest vibrating deeply, she feels him go suddenly rigid.
"What's the matter? Oh God, did I hurt you?" he asks, fearful concern shifting his body beneath her.
"No, honey, no." She lifts her head and smiles down at him, brushing her finger through a wisp of dark hair curling over his forehead. "I just remembered the whipped cream that I'd meant to grab from the kitchen."
"Oh," he chuckles softly as he relaxes into the mattress once more. "Not my fault. You just couldn't wait to get your hands on me. But don't worry, there's plenty of time for that after dinner," he adds, caressing her back with warm gentle arcs. "You can have me again for dessert."
So when the stars are at their brightest and their bellies filled with happiness, she fervently enjoys her dessert; her hand is deft, her tongue clever and his moans loud. Drifting toward sleep beneath him, the aftertaste of the cream upon her lips and his desire inside her mouth linger sweet, robust, and wonderful. The experience warms her thoughts not as a dream this time, but a real memory. The whipped cream was cold, the passion was hot, his body was hard and the night was all theirs. The moon gazes down on a peaceful world as they lie spent in a mesh of breath and limbs, conveying their love for each other as the beat of a single heart echoes in the darkness.