Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: For onedayyoujustchange who asked for: "How about one where Tobin pursues Rick :)" – Naturally this is a Rick Grimes/Tobin story.

Disclaimer:adult language, canon appropriate violence, blood and gore, slow burn, mild sexual content, roughly follows canon season 5-6 events, au where Rick and Michonne don't hook up but instead- Tobin bags himself Rick Grimes with a lot of innocent, low-key trying.

Eumoirous

Chapter One

He still wasn't quite awake when he ambled down the stairs and caught a flash of unfamiliar and out of place at the dining room table. He came around the corner a bit slower than he normally would have and definitely a bit more cautious. The muscles in his shoulders pulling tight before-

"Tobin?"

The man looked up. Sending him a warm smile and a nod from the dissembled innards of at least two different Glocks. Polishing rag wrapped around the strong of his index finger as the man cleaned the inside piston with the tip of the same extendable rod he'd used on his python the day before.

"Rick, sorry if I woke 'ya." Tobin greeted, not seeming to catch his relieved sigh as he relaxed in increments. Fingers straying away from the snaps of his holster in favor of leaning up against the wall, gesturing over at the mess that was currently taking up at least half of the table.

"What's all this?" he asked, easy but firm. Still friendly enough to still come out unaccusing even though part of him was wondering exactly why the man was alone in the same house his children were sleepin' in.

"Boredom, mostly," Tobin admitted, leaning back in his chair and stretchin' with the exact same smile. The checkered green and blue plaid of his long sleeve shirt pulling tight. Highlighting strong shoulders and barrel chest before slumping off into obscurity again when the man relaxed. "Carol asked me to come over. Said she needed some help moving things in the basement."

Ah.

"She was about to tell me what she wanted me to do when Maggie needed her for something. Told me to wait right here, she wouldn't be long. It's been a while and frankly- I just got off night-watch so I'm beat. I needed something to do so I didn't nod off. Figured that since the stuff was out I might as well make sure these are in workin' order," Tobin shared, frowning a bit as a muted shower of black gunk flaked across the polished wood of the table. "To be honest I can't remember the last time I cleaned them. Must be gettin' sloppy."

A muscle twitched in his cheek.

Sloppy. Complacent. Weak.

But for once he kept the thoughts firmly to himself.

Instead, he watched the confident way Tobin twirled one of the cleaning picks between his thumb and forefinger. Double checking each piece before setting it aside. Practiced. Taking a brass-bristled brush to the rest. Apparently unperturbed by his audience as the man kept his concentration on the task at hand.

It reminded him of the early days. Those first few weeks where almost everyone was on the same level. The same place. Where it hadn't just been Andrea wanting - no, needing - to learn, but eventually Glenn, Lori, Carl, Carol- everyone. Only Tobin did it like breathing. Every movement was precise and easy. Speaking of more practice than was strictly necessary, but habit forming all the same.

"These yours?" he asked, gesturing at the twin Glocks after the pause threatened to morph into something else. Something seeded with strain and discomfort. Finding it odder than anything when he realized that was actually the last thing he wanted as Tobin looked up with a nod and pleasant expression. Second guessing himself as he tried to untangle why that was as Tobin answered.

"This one is," the man remarked, tapping an overlarge pinky on the one on his right. "This other one- well, I guess it is now. But-"

He cocked his head when the man trailed off. Curiosity was a new emotion as far as his opinion of Tobin went. But there was something on his face right now that demanded another look. He'd always figured Tobin was one of those people that were the exact same person on the inside as they were on the out. Gentle, strong, dependable, naive and just a bit too trusting when it came to things he probably shouldn't have been. And maybe he still was, but the hesitation – even in this one thing – had caught his interest more than anything else.

"I've always had this one," Tobin explained, gesturing at the piece he'd pointed to first. Putting the last few pieces together before he picked it up and checked it over, aiming the gun away as he dry fired, checking to make sure everything clicked through smoothly before setting it aside. "Only gun I ever had in the house. My wife hated it. Said she didn't marry a mountain for no reason. It was a joke we had. But really, she just didn't like guns much. Can't say I blamed her. Not with kids in the house."

Not with kids in the house.

Not with kids in the house.

Not with-

Tobin lived in Alexandria alone.

No wife.

No kids.

No-

Second-hand horror was a gut-wrenching twist of a thing, he realized distantly.

He'd almost forgotten the taste of it in his mouth.

"But this one- well- when everything happened I was at work. I got home in time to get my family out. We were all stuffed in the van and following a bunch of my neighbors out when the car in front of us- something happened. Someone must have been bit and turned. No one knew back then that was how it spread. It blocked the street and things got crazy. People were driving across lawns, trying to ram their way through the road-block. Screaming. Honking, and suddenly it was like- all those things were just everywhere. The kids were screaming and I- I froze I guess. I didn't know what to do. I mean, what the hell do you do in a situation like that?" Tobin remarked, hoarse and just a little bit wounded as he looked up at him like he had the answers.

And while he didn't - not even close - that didn't stop him from broaching the space and pulling out the chair across from him. Long legs folding as he turned the chair backwards and leaned his arms against the back.

"I missed the start," he admitted, scratching at the stubble he'd missed under his chin as Tobin looked up, surprised. Expression softening back into something that lessened the tension he hadn't even been aware was building in his chest until the moment it started to ease. "I took a bullet in a shootout couple weeks before everything started. I woke up from a coma to all this. Deserted town. Deserted house. Bodies everywhere. It didn't seem real. Nearly got myself killed before Morgan and his boy found me, wandering around like an idiot."

Tobin made a sound of disbelief deep in his throat, rising a brow before shaking his head.

"Honestly, I'm not sure if you were lucky or even worse off than the rest of us," the man admitted. "Those first few weeks were something else. First it was riots. Then it a virus. Then it was…this."

"I don't know," he replied honestly. Surprising himself because it was the truth. Part of him always wondered if it would've been better – if things would have turned out different – if he'd been with Lori and Carl from the start. But on the other hand-

"It wasn't until the truck behind us tried to ram us out of the way that I realized I had to get us out of there. We got out, grabbed the kids and ran. We must have made it three blocks before my youngest twisted her ankle. I was out of bullets and there were walkers all around us. People we knew, people we saw on the street every day. Then this woman- she was police - I never really asked, just assumed – wearing full gear, with an AK-47 came barreling out of an alley, yelling like a maniac. She got in front of us and just went to town. She put every single one down before she turned around and looked me dead in the eye. And that was when I saw it," Tobin said softly, something dark and angry passing across the man's expression for the first time.

"There was this tiny little bite-mark on her cheek and she looked at me, you know? She looked at me, my wife and my kids and just- I knew, you know? She knew it too. But I told her not now. Not yet. Not in front of my kids. Honestly, the words that came out of my mouth? I'm not even sure all of them made sense, but it got to her somehow. She was wild, almost hyper-ventilating but after that she just sort of…fell into me. People needing people, I guess. She came with us, helped us make it to the safe zone before she-"

He didn't have to say anything else.

"Anyway, this one," Tobin hesitated, patting the barrel of the other gun. The one where you could just make out the worn initials of A.G on the bottom of the stock, "was hers. It felt right keeping it, you know?"

He nodded, wordless.

It wasn't until Tobin cracked a yawn, muffling it against the back of his hand before sliding the Glock into his spare holster, that he figured it was time to let the man get some rest.

"Well, let's go see if we can figure it out what Carol wanted moved, huh?" he offered, getting up from his chair as Tobin blinked up at him tiredly. "There's no tellin' when she'll be back and I'd hate to keep you up on our account."

"Oh, I don't mind," Tobin returned with a smile – like being open with the expression had never burned him – before following him down towards the basement stairs. "But a nap does sound pretty damn good right about now."

For the first time in a long time, his own smile didn't feel like a grimace against his teeth.


A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be more to come, stay tuned.

Reference:

"Eumoirous" is a rare word meaning: "happiness due to being honest and wholesome."