New Meanings To Old Words: LOVE
This chapter is HEAVY. It's very Rick heavy, very Callie heavy…and just fuckin' HEAVY. I've been working and playing the patchwork game with scenes and the flow, and though I'm not completely sold on everything that's jam packed into this one…it all needs to be somewhere. And so here it is. We're picking up pretty much exactly where we left off that same night, only a little bit after Rick and Shane get back to the farm. Callie and Rick have a couple of long chats, Carl gets some answers from Shane, and Daryl gets put into a position he's not sure he wants to be in…along with some news he hadn't been expecting.
Should be interesting.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing but my dear Miss Callie , Danny-boy, Miles, Ben and Gracie (along with all those we've lost along the way, and the ones we've yet to actually meet).
A shout out quickly to all the new readers as well as all those who have stuck by me as we venture into finally finishing SEASON 2… we're moving ever forward and I appreciate each and every one of you so much for sticking with me. Finding time to write with two babies here at home has been challenging, especially during the holidays, but as we head into the new year and I get a bit of a schedule down I'm hoping to keep up a good pace. I can't promise work in days, but I can tell you that this fic will not go MONTHS and MONTHS without update. We're heading into the home-stretch, and while there's still a good bit of ground to cover, I have a feeling it will go by rather quickly once we really get started. Thank you again. All of you have kept this fic alive and the love that you have for the characters is felt each and every time you hit favorite, or follow, or feel the urge to review. LOVE YOU ALL…now on with the show.
Weight of the World
Rick stared at the top of Callie's head as she worked to slowly thread the needle with the fishing line she'd brought with her. Stared hard and firmed his lips as she continued to ignore him. She hadn't said a single word since entering the room. Not a single word to explain exactly what was behind that stare she'd given him when she entered. The stare she'd shot him with her back shoved against the door and arms filled with supplies to fix up his wounds. The look that had caused his mouth to snap shut only a second after he'd opened it to speak to her.
No, she hadn't said a word and he didn't know what to do about it.
She was angry. He'd expected her to be angry, just like he'd expected Lori's ire when she'd followed him into the house not long ago. Lori's anger though had been at him and Shane. At their shared stupidity, their vanity, their unbelievable idiocy in the face of everything going on. Her anger had been hissed through clenched teeth as she tried very hard to not let the rest of the group hear her, and as she desperately tried to maintain some semblance of understanding when he tried to explain. And as she tried so desperately to maintain herself in the face of it all, she'd been left as speechless as Callie at the end.
The last words he'd uttered to her leaving him to stand there as she smacked away his reaching hands and backed out of the room. Her wide-eyed stare and firmly closed lips the last image of her he had.
"I almost left him to die there, Lori. I almost left him there. "
Lori's anger he understood. He didn't like it, didn't want it to come between them again, but he understood it.
Accepted it.
Callie's anger though, he couldn't quite place it. Her averted gaze wasn't something he was used to from the woman he'd come to count on to give him a verbal beat-down when he needed it. Quiet dissonance and anger didn't seem to fit her, at least not what he knew of her, and he couldn't figure it out. He'd been trying for what seemed like hours to catch her gaze as she'd spread out the supplies she'd brought in along the surface of Hershel's desk. Failing even as she worked to blot at the bruises and cuts over and around his eyes. He'd even tried to talk to her; asking random questions about why she was the one coming in to check on him and not Hershel or Patricia.
He asked the questions and she avidly ignored him. Ignored him because she knew that even though he was asking, he already knew the answers.
She was there because he'd said he needed her, and no matter her anger-or whatever this was-at him, he knew she wasn't going to run away from that. Not again.
Rick shifted a bit in the worn seat he'd settled into, his eyes roaming over to Hershel's comfortable looking chair behind his desk. The one with the nice armrests that he could have chosen to sit in, but didn't feel quite right in doing. He just couldn't seem to bring himself to take over what was obviously the older man's sanctuary in such a disrespectful manner. Rick shifted on the chair he had settled in, the thin wooden armrest digging slightly into his arm as he readied himself for what was to come. Sucking in a deep breath he let his gaze shift to Callie's hands, watching as they twitched and trembled just a bit as she lifted the needle up and inspected it. He watched her shoulders lift and fall three times and again tried to catch her gaze before she settled it upon the sliced flesh of his right forearm.
Her hands reached out and Rick gave up his futile efforts to garner her attention, and focused instead on keeping his mouth shut as she gently slipped her fingers over the slice on his arm. He focused on her fingers, stained by his blood, as they ran over his arm and prodded at the cut. It was still bleeding, though thankfully not as much as it had been.
"You're gonna wanna look away now," Callie muttered dryly and Rick's eyes snapped to where her exhausted hazel eyes were now looking directly at him. He felt his mouth open in shock, but that shock was soon replaced by pain as she slid the needle into his already sore sliced open flesh.
"Shit," Rick seethed through clenched teeth as he blinked away the blurring of his vision. His back pushed into the less than comfortable leather backing of the small chair he was settled in and his eyes roamed up to the ceiling, and then back down to the top of Callie's head, and finally to his arm. He watched the fishing line slide through his skin and marveled at the painful sensation of it. He'd had stitches, but he'd never watched himself get them before.
"Stop it," Callie muttered again, her knee slipping to the side slightly to knock into his. His eyes lifted from his arm again and she caught his gaze for a second before shaking her head and setting herself back to task.
Rick shook his head and slipped his gaze away trying to find something to help keep his mind busy. Finally, he let his eyes roam back to Callie's fingers, focusing on them and the slight tremble he felt as they clenched and unclenched as she held tight to his forearm near the cut. He didn't know how long he stared at her hands, but knew it'd been too long when he'd stopped realizing that what he was looking at was real. He blinked back into awareness after feeling her grip go just a bit slack on his arm. His gaze moved then, settling on the wrap of bloodstained bandages around her right forearm, where her own flesh had been torn and sewn back together only days ago, when she and Lori had almost been killed coming out after him and the rest. He felt himself chuckle as her fingers trailed away and he watched her drop the needle and remaining line into the bowl of alcohol settled upon the desk next to them.
Callie sat back and stretched her fingers a bit, letting out a slow sigh as she snatched up the strips of bandaging she'd settled upon her leg before starting. She shook herself and reached back out so that she could start wrapping up the wound on Rick's arm. She'd only put a few stitches into the deepest area, opting not to torture the man too much with unnecessary pain. Even though part of her really wanted to for the stunt he'd just pulled. She sniffed to try and clear her sinuses as they protested the amount of rubbing alcohol she'd inhaled during the process and began to gently wrap.
She wrapped, and again actively ignored the intense stare of the man settled inches away from her. She could feel his eyes roaming over her face again, feel the way the muscles of his arm were twitching as if he wanted to reach out and grab her. Wanted to make her finally look at him. She finished wrapping, snatched up the towel she'd placed beside her on the desk and pushed to her feet before he could act on that impulse twitching just below the surface of his skin.
She turned her back on him as she began to furiously wipe at the blood tinting her fingers a dull redish-brown and ignored the sound of him slowly shifting in his seat. She ignored the sound of his breath sliding out between what she knew were firmed lips. She ignored him easily, until he chuckled again. He chuckled and her annoyance snapped her restraint that little bit needed to make her half-turn towards him, and she watched him as he slipped his fingers over the bandage she'd just placed on his arm.
"Quite the pair you and me," Rick mumbled, his eyes remaining on his bandage for a moment before shifting up to her. She snarled at him when he smirked and couldn't help but shake her head at him for being so smug about finally catching her attention with a phrase that seemed to be a running joke between them now. She shook her head once more and turned away, rubbing harder at the blood settled deep into her hands once again determined to ignore him until she could get a handle on herself. "Callie," Rick's voice was low and tired and she stopped trying to clean her hands and instead just stared at the floor. "I don't know you well enough to know what the hell this is," Rick said and she turned to stare at him again, her brow furrowing as he waved his left hand around at her. "I'm not arrogant enough to think that I have you all figured out. Not completely. Tell me what this is. Say something."
"What do you want me to say, Rick," Callie snapped back turning fully to pierce him with a glare. Both of her arms lifted and fell in a whole body shrug that he watched with a slight tilt to his fucking head. A tilt that made her want to just slap him. "Look," Callie said taking a deep breath and settling her nerves. "I'm sure your wife already gave you a good earful. A level-headed, strongly-worded, very fuckin' necessary earful on whatever the hell that was that happened out there," Callie let her arm fly out towards the door and watched Rick settle back in his chair just a bit as both of his hands fell to his knees. "I am not your wife. I am not the woman she is. I am not level-headed when it comes to you, and honestly, as of late my fuckin' hypocrisy knows no bounds. So tell me, what am I supposed to say to you? What? That you were a fuckin' idiot? That you could have been killed? What? You really need me to reiterate something you've already been told, something you already know. Fine. You're a fuckin' idiot."
"Feel better," Rick said quietly as he pushed to his feet.
"Don't test me, Rick. I have a gun," Callie said letting out long sigh and rubbing thumb and forefinger at the bridge of her nose. "Jesus Christ, Rick."
Rick slid slowly towards her, and grabbed her wrist causing her eyes to snap back up to him. He frowned slightly and took the towel from her now loose fingers. He lifted her arm and stared down at the bit of red that had bled through the bandage covering her own still healing arm. She watched him as he stared, and sighed as he ran the pad of his thumb gently over the blood staining the back of her hand. Watched his brow furrow as his mind hitched on to something and she sighed as his gaze slid down to her bloodstained fingers.
"I'm sorry," they said the words at exactly the same time, and their gazes snapped together. Callie's words were met with a confused tilt to Rick's head, while his were discarded with an aggravated wave of her hand as she pulled away from him.
"Why are you-?" Rick began but Callie cut him off.
"I let you go out there," Callie started, her hand raking through her hair as she shook her head slightly. Her eyes roamed the room, once again working to avoid his stare, but this time it was too strong. Too close. And she found herself locking gazes with him as his fingers barely grazed her wrist. She let out an exasperated sigh and pulled away from him again. "I shouldn't have let you...not with Shane. I knew -"she cut herself off and stabbed him in the chest with her finger. "It wasn't about Randall. I knew that. It wasn't. And it wasn't about me," she watched his expression change and she grimaced, her hand reaching out to him but falling before it actually made contact with his shoulder. "Not completely, Rick. It wasn't about any of that; it was about proving a point," she finished. Rick took a step back then and regarded her with an almost unreadable expression, his eyes bouncing back and forth over hers as if he were looking for an answer to a question he hadn't ask. She shook her head and continued. "I tried so hard. I told you not to make this about anything but what needed to be done. I tried….I should have just hopped into the fuckin' backseat. I should have known better," Callie said sighing and wagging a finger in the air; a chiding motion to the both of them as she glared at his still stoic unreadable fuckin' expression. "I know. When you get something in your head…you're a determined son of a bitch. Almost to a fault. And I love you for that. But I should have known better. I let you go out there hoping that by the time you got there you would have cooled down. That you would have realized you didn't need to prove a point to Shane, or anyone else. I hoped. And I should have known better. Hope's for fools, Rick. Hope's for fools and Shane's an aggravating son of a bitch that knows all the right buttons to push on you."
"What happened out there…it's not your fault," Rick said letting out a small pained breath as he shifted to follow her agitated pacing. She turned and briefly caught him cradling his midsection before he dropped his hands to the desk. "You told me not to go out there to prove a point. Maybe you should have known better. But I should have too."
Silence stretched out between them after that. Both of them simply staring at the other, trying to read all the words that were filtering unsaid into the air between them. Callie's head tilted as Rick again shifted and winced at the very evident pain in his ribs and she sighed when his face contorted as he settled his backside to the desk behind him.
"You should let me take a look at them," Callie said quietly taking a step closer and stopping when his hand rose to wave her off. "They're probably broken…"
"I'm fine," Rick said shaking his head and shifting his gaze towards the supplies scattered along the desk top beside him.
"Rick-"
"I said I'm fine," Rick snapped at her and she could tell he immediately regretted the tone when he frowned up at her. She shook her head and settled her hands into her back pockets as she regarded him with a look she'd only ever used on Danny or the kids when they were being stubborn little shits.
"So what do we do now?" Callie asked quietly, rocking back on her heels slightly. Rick didn't answer. Instead his gaze remained locked on his boots. His brow was furrowed, and his shoulders hunched over as if the weight of the world had somehow settled there in the last few seconds. She clenched her jaw briefly and took a step towards him. "You need me," she said quietly, those words causing his head to lift and his eyes to lock on to hers. "For what, Rick? And don't tell me you need met to help you with the Randall situation. I've already been quite clear on my stance. I trust you and I have your back in whatever you decide," she pointed a finger at him and gave him a single nod. He opened his mouth to respond but she shook her head. She shifted her hands out of her back pockets and crossed her arms over her chest before spearing him with a forceful yet imploring look. "Rick, please," Callie heard her voice break on that last word, and watched Rick's mouth firm and hold against whatever he'd wanted to say. "You need me, so talk to me. Is it Shane?" she asked and he speared her with a glare before shaking his head once. She sighed rolled her eyes, figuring she'd have to pry that information out of him at a later date. "Randall then," she continued and he glanced at her briefly before looking to the ground. "Why did you bring him back? Why didn't you just leave him out there?" She asked finally. Rick sighed and stood, his head shook as he walked a few steps and then stopped to again stare at the ground. "You don't want to kill him," Callie said, causing his eyes to snap to her again. She took a few steps towards him and let her hands fall to her sides as he turned his back on her. "You don't-"
"You're wrong," Rick said in a low, almost menacing tone that she had to strain to hear. "Maybe not before… but now…I want to. I wanted to," Rick said in a clearer voice, his body turning to face her and his expression causing her to almost take a step back. "I had him in my sights, had my gun pressed to his head, and I wanted to. Wanted it so bad I could taste it. Wanted to do it…," Rick stopped then and stared hard at her and she knew without out a shadow of a doubt which words he was leaving off of that last statement. Knew by the heat behind the look in his blue eyes exactly what he was thinking. 'For you.'
"Why didn't you?" Callie's voice echoed out in barely a whisper and he stared at her for a few seconds more before turning away and raking his hand through his hair.
"Because it can't be that easy," Rick said as his head shook slightly. His hand fell from the top of his head and cupped over his mouth, while his wide-eyed stare shifted around the room and finally landed on her. "It can't be. It shouldn't be," He said, turning to face her then. "It's a man's life."
Silence again echoed in the room, the air getting thicker and thicker with each passing second. But this time Callie's brain cleared enough to catch on to a few of those unspoken words. Realization hit her like a hammer to the chest and she took a single step back from Rick as he continued to just stare at her. Her head shook and she felt her mouth open and close a few times before she schooled herself and stiffened her fuckin' spine.
"You need me," she said in as forceful and tone as she could, snarling slightly at the way her lip began to tremble. She clenched her jaw for a minute and took in a single breath before continuing. "You need me to help you understand killing someone."
"Callie…" Rick's voice rang out almost immediately. His tone was apologetic and instantly she was blinking furiously to clear the film that had grown over her eyes.
"Wow," Callie said on a breathless sigh, her hand lifting to cup over her mouth as she continued to blink rapidly. Rick reached out a hand towards her. A hand that she side-stepped and raised her own arm to fend off as it followed her. She paced a bit away from him and turned her back on him for a moment, feeling his presence looming behind her like a white hot poker. They remained that way for some time, Callie now the one left to stare at her feet and try and figure out just how she came to be in this position.
How her life had been so fucked up in the past few months of hell that she'd now become the killer explaining her crimes to those around her, instead of the law trying to understand.
Finally she turned to him, and watched him blink past the wetness in his own eyes. Horror, shame, and compassion were shining in his eyes as he stared back at her and she felt each of those emotions pound hard into her chest. She licked her lips and tilted her head to the side as he continued to stare at her. The apology may have been written all over his face, but there wasn't any trace of denial. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before once again catching his watchful gaze.
"It shouldn't be easy," Callie said, amazed by the power and control she had managed to achieve in her voice. She watched his brows snap together a little, that horrid weight once again hunching his shoulders slightly. She turned and looked out the window, looked out into the now completely dark world surrounding them. "Killing someone takes a toll…on your soul, I guess. It changes you. It's a burden. It puts a weight on you that you can't ever shake off," she said, shaking her head and listening as Rick shifted around. She felt him get a bit closer and finally turned to face him. "It shouldn't be easy, Rick. If it is… then you've hit a point that you can't come back from."
Callie shifted her right hand behind her and her fingers slipped into her back pocket immediately hitting off of the folded piece of paper that had found a permanent residence there. She pulled it out and stared at the quartered page, her fingers running over the tattered edge that she'd pulled from the spiral bound notebook she'd originally written it in. She felt Rick's eyes on her, and when she looked back up she wasn't surprised to find him barely an arm's length away. She shifted the paper out to him and gave a single nod when he tentatively reached out towards it. She watched him open the paper and felt her heart begin to pound painfully behind her ribcage.
"Every person I've killed since this whole thing began is on this list," she said in a low solemn tone, and Ricks' eyes shifted up to her for a brief moment before snapping back to the paper. He stared hard at it and she blinked away the tears she felt coming, squaring her shoulders against the pitying look she could see growing on his face. "Most we're bitten, but a few, those boys in my bar… Santos….," she shuddered and couldn't help crossing her arms protectively over her chest as Rick's gaze lifted back up to her. His head began to shake and she watched his grip on the paper tighten as he lowered it and just stared at her. She shook off his pity, his caring, his unsaid words of support and devotion. Shook them off and hardened herself, because he fuckin' needed her. "This isn't the world we lived in before, Rick. There's no court to deal with the things I've done. No law. Just us, and how we choose to handle what life is throwing at us. I carry this with me everywhere. Killing now… in this world…it's different, but it shouldn't ever be easy or taken lightly. It weighs you down, Rick. And it should. A person's life should always have weight. If you take it, then it's a weight you need to accept and bear and make a part of you if you plan to keep on going after what's done is done."
Callie watched Rick stare down at the list of names he held, his eyes skipping from top to bottom and then back again over and over. His grip on the edge of the paper tightened with each passing second. She'd figured she knew what he was thinking, she'd often marveled at it herself. It looked like it was written by two completely different people. The large shaking letters of the first few names, the two boys who she'd only been able to refer to as Sergeant and Tillman because that's all she knew of them. The next three, Suze, Sammy and Hannah -even shakier than the other two. Then the rest, some scratched in a quick hand, some practically etched into the paper with the force of the pen to the page. Some full names, some just descriptions.
How fuckin' sick was that?
She heard Rick sigh, and watched him lower the page slightly to stare at her.
"Callie-"
"I know you need me, and I'm here, but I can't-" she firmed her lips and shrugged her shoulders just a bit. "I can't make this decision for you. I can't tell you what to do, Rick. But I can tell you this. If you're making this decision; it if comes down to life or death; if that's the path you want to take, and feel we need to take… then I'm behind you. Nothing is going to change that," Callie shifted a few steps closer to him and pointed a finger at him. "But it can't be about proving a point. It can't be."
"He knows Maggie, Callie," Rick said sighing and raking one hand through his hair while his other set her list atop the desk beside him. His eyes circled the room and then pierced her as his hand fell to the gun settled at his hip. "He knows where we are, knows this farm. It's not about proving a point, not anymore," Rick bent his body towards her a little, his head dipping down to catch her gaze as his voice dropped and slowed to get his point across. "He knows where we are. That has bearing, it changes things. It has to change things. If he survived out there, if he found his group, or another group, he could come back here….Could bring others here." Rick stared hard at her, his head bobbing in a single succinct nod to push so that she fully understood him. As if she didn't. "It changes things, Callie."
"It doesn't," Callie said shaking her head at him causing him to breathe an exasperated sigh. Her mind shifted back to her discussion with Miles, what seemed like years ago. A discussion about snakes in the grass, and this world being a perfect place for them to thrive. Callie sighed and realized that whether Rick thought this situation with Randall was about proving a point or not to didn't matter. Shane had already done his work and planted his seed. He'd already pushed through the grass in Rick's head and slithered his way around blocking paths to any other answers to the problem at hand. Callie continued to shake her head and held Rick's quietly annoyed gaze. "There's always going to be another group out there. We aren't alone in this world, Rick; it's silly to think this isn't going to keep happening. Silly to think another group couldn't find us without Randall. Is this how it's going to be now with us? Is this how we're going to handle these situations? There's another way-"
"Maybe this is the way it has to be," Rick practically yelled at her and her head tilted back at the pleading and utterly exhausted tone in his voice. "What do you want me to do? Tell me. Please. If there's another way, tell me, 'cause I'm having a real hard time seein' it." Callie sighed and Rick grabbed her upper arms and pulled her towards him, holding her an inch from his face he shifted his eyes over hers trying again to see the answers to his questions. The next question was a whispered plea of such intense meaning that it threatened to knock her down. "What do you want?"
"I want to kill him myself," Callie seethed through her own tightly clenched teeth. Her eyes bounced between his for a second watching her admission hit him and then she was pushing at him. Trying to escape him. Trying to pull free from him because he'd made her say it out loud. He made her say it because he needed to know, needed to hear it. "Damn it," Callie pushed at him, again but he held tight. He pulled her closer and her hands fell into his chest, clenching tight to his shirt and she shook him just a little in her frustration. "Part of me, a part of me I hate, wants to kill him myself," she said angrily. Her head tipped up to look at his face and she felt the tears welling in her eyes but knew she couldn't stop them from falling this time. His hands tightened on her arms, painfully pressing near the torn skin of her right arm but she didn't care. She held tight to his shirt and pulled and pushed him with each calming breath she took. She stared at him a moment longer as she regained her composure and continued in as calm a tone as she could manage. "Part of me wants to do it myself, Rick. Each and every day he was locked up in that barn I stood there with my hand on my gun, ready to do it. But I couldn't; for the same reason you couldn't. Because killing him, seeing him dead, isn't gonna make what happened to me go away. It's not gonna fix anything," Callie said, letting her eyes finally close as the blood pounding between her ears became just too much to bear with her eyes open. Her head shifted forward and landed on her hands still clenched tightly into the front of Rick's tattered shirt. His hands had loosened on her arms just a little, the painful grip slipping into a steady comforting pressure as he moved his hands up towards her shoulders. He pressed in deep with his thumbs, massaging away at the tension that had settled too deep in her bones for even his well-meaning attentions to fend off. She kept her forehead to her hands and continued on in a voice she wasn't even sure he could hear. "Randal didn't physically do anything to me. He broke my trust. He brought in others who…- I should have known… I should have," Rick's grip tightened again and his chin dropped down on to the top of her head for a brief second before she pushed up and away, and stared into his shining blue eyes. "Killing him isn't going to fix anything for me. It'll just add another name to my list."
Rick stared down at her for a few seconds, his thumbs still pressing hard into her shoulders as if he were afraid to let go. His eyes along with his hold on her spoke volumes. It was as if he thought if he didn't hold her in place while he had the chance she would just vanish and leave him forever. After a second more his eyes shifted towards her list that he'd set on the desk beside them moments ago. They broke apart slightly, Rick's hands falling from her and hers slowly sliding away from his shirt. He lifted her list up and glanced at it briefly before looking back to her.
"Santos…he doesn't belong on this list," Rick said holding the paper between them. "He doesn't deserve to add weight to your already painfully heavy load."
"I said the same thing originally, thought the same thing," Callie said quietly as she took hold of the list. Rick held tight when she made to take it and she frowned at him. "But I was wrong. I killed him in front of Ben…in front of Carl," the sound of his son's name had Rick standing up straighter and slightly away from her.
"You saved them," Rick said in a matter-of-fact tone. A tone that made her place her hand to his cheek and give the barest hint of a smile. He leaned into her hand almost unconsciously, and then shifted away a bit as his brow furrowed in confusion.
"I killed a bit of them," Callie said letting her hand fall to his chest again. She gave two small, gentle taps as she continued. "He belongs on there, Rick. They all do."
Her hand trailed away from his chest then, and she turned away from him. She took a breath and folded her list up, slipping it back in place in her back pocket. Blinking away the film that had yet again grown over her very tired eyes she shook her head and let her gaze land on the door. Just as she was about to step away she felt Rick's hand settle gently on her shoulder. His fingers tightened just a bit pulling her slightly back towards him as she moved towards the door. Again that comforting pressure of his hand sent a feeling of warmth down her spine, a warmth that had her eyes closing and a sigh leaving her lips. He stepped closer, his breath bouncing off of her hair as he said his next words in a forceful yet hushed tone.
"I needed that," he began, his thumb pressing into the tightly coiled muscles of her neck. "I needed that… but that's not why I need you. Callie, I- ," he cut himself off and let out a long sigh into her tangled mass of waves, as his thumb swiped twice along the nape of her neck sending a shiver down her spine. His forehead fell forward a bit barely touching the back of her head before he shook it and pulled away. "It's not why."
Rick stepped back then, his hand falling away from her and she turned to watch him rake it through his hair. He was looking away now, his eyes sliding along the floor, over his boots and towards the chair he'd sat in to get his stitches. She watched him for a moment, his hand settling at the back of his neck and eyes slowly roaming the floor as he backed himself against the desk again.
The dance they'd done earlier when she walked in was reversed now, as he worked to keep from looking up at her. Worked to avoid eye-contact so that she wouldn't be able to read whatever was settling on his shoulders now. Taking a deep breath she shifted her weight from one foot to another before jutting one hip and tossing a hand out to smack into his chest.
"You need to burn that fuckin' shirt," she said with a bit of a smirk as his eyes lifted to her. "It smells horrible."
She wasn't as good at deflection with humor as Danny was. Not by a long shot, but it got him to blink away whatever had taken a hold of him in that moment. At least for a moment.
"Right," Rick said in a hoarse voice as he shifted his hand around to scratch at the growth of beard on his chin, his lower lip sliding in slightly as he bit at the edge of it.
The air around them had settled, and Callie was grateful for that, but there was still that lingering something in the air that made it thick and hard to breathe if she paid too much attention to it. Something that lingered on a bit longer each time they locked gazes. Something that she was finally starting to find a name for.
Something that had her turning away and heading for the door as he looked on after her.
"There's more," Rick's voice, still gravely and exhausted called out and stopped her just as her fingers hit upon the knob. She half-turned towards him and held his gaze for a moment before nodding.
"I need some air," she said quietly. He continued to stare at her, both of his hands falling to the desk beside him to hold him up. She watched the thin trail of blood sliding out of the bandage she'd put on him, watched it rolling over the back of his hand and over his thumb. She stared at that bit of blood on his thumb, knowing without seeing, that he'd smeared that blood along her shoulder and the nape of her neck. She looked back to his face then and stood up a bit straighter. "We need some air."
After a beat, Rick nodded and she turned back towards the door. She turned the knob and cracked the door, a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding escaping through her slightly parted lips.
"I'll find you," Rick said as she opened the door further and she shot her gaze over her shoulder at him. She gave him a single nod and turned, leaving Rick to find his own fresh air somewhere in this messed up fuckin' world they lived in.
Shane shifted uncomfortably on the driver's seat of the Tuscon…his Tuscon, and winced as he reached down to tighten the laces of his boots. His eyes lifted as he did it, the sight of the Greene's fuckin' picturesque farm house not far off. He snarled at it as he pushed up and put his elbows to his knees, his boots digging into the dirt road a bit more under the added weight of his heavy shoulders.
He'd moved the car-his fuckin' car- right after he'd finished wavin' off the fuckin' benevolent Doctor Greene and his damned well-meanin' hands. He'd moved it, so that he could get it ready to go. Moved it so that no one would bother him as he worked to load it up.
Moved it so that he didn't have to feel Dale or Danny's fuckin' gaze on him as he did it.
So that he wouldn't have to look at Lori as she paced around on the porch with Carol, her head shakin' as she seethed out her aggravation. Aggravation at her husband- and at him- for the shit they'd pulled out on the road.
One fuckin' earful from that woman was enough. He didn't need to hear it on a fuckin' loop as he tried to settle his nerves.
Shane sighed and dropped his head into his hands, his eyes glaring down at his dirty boots. He didn't know how long he stared, or even what was working through his head, all he knew was that he must have been way fuckin' deep down in his mind to have missed the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Are you hiding?" Carl's voice echoed out and Shane's head snapped up to spear the kid with a startled glance. Shane blinked a few times at the sight of the boy shifting around the back end of the car, and watched Carl peer into the back seat briefly before shifting his eyes back to him.
"Makes you think that?" Shane asked tiredly, his hands dropping back down to his knees as he watched Carl stop in front of him.
"Dad's hiding," Carl said shrugging slightly and Shane scoffed out a mocking laugh.
"Shouldn't you be back at the house? Resting?"
"I guess," Carl said shrugging again and shifting his weight from foot to foot. His eyes shifted towards the house briefly and Shane watched him roll something along inside his head. It was startling sometimes just how much like his father Carl was. Watching him now, workin' through each different thing he maybe wanted to say, and each thing he didn't, Shane couldn't help but smirk a little at him.
"Well, c'mon," Shane said pushing to his feet and putting a hand to the open driver's side door. "Let's get you back, 'fore your momma has herself a coronary lookin' for you," Shane said turning around to shut the door, his head shaking a bit as he let out a bitter little laugh. "Shouldn't be roamin' around alone at all, least of all at night, buddy. You know better-"
"What were you and dad fighting about?" Carl asked, his voice strong and forceful and effective in completely cutting off Shane's next few words. Shane turned towards Carl and stared at the boy's very direct questioning gaze. He stared until he just couldn't do it anymore and then turned back towards the car, his fingers flinging the door shut as he shook his head.
"Grown-up stuff, man. We was fighting 'bout grown-up stuff," Shane muttered as he lifted his fingers to rub at the bridge of his nose. He grimaced at the feel of the pounding behind his eyelids as he licked at his suddenly dry lips.
"That's not what mom said," Carl said, causing Shane to shift his gaze over his shoulder to him again. Carl shifted and dipped his head just slightly in a junior fuckin' version of the way Rick did and Shane's shoulders and back stiffened as he turned fully around. "She said the two of you were acting like children on a school yard out there. Fighting on the side of the road when you should have been here," Carl stopped then and dragged in a deep breath as Shane let out a bit of a chuckle.
"Yeah, your mom's got a way with words sometimes, pal," Shane mumbled as he rubbed his hand along his shaved head. "It don't matter now, Carl. It's done."
"It's my dad you were fighting with," Carl said in a firm tone, his head bobbing in a bit of a nod as he spoke. Shane's brow furrowed slightly, Rick's voice echoing in his head as Carl stared at him. My wife. My son. My baby. "It matters," Carl finished and Shane stared hard at the boy before him. He looked older for some reason, maybe the way the moonlight was hitting off of his pale skin, or the fact that he wasn't wearing Rick's fuckin' too big campaign hat. Whatever it was, the look in his eyes was startling and Shane felt himself taking a step back to settle himself against the car for support as he worked to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to say. What the kid wanted to hear. "Was it about Randall?"
"Yeah," Shane said quietly, his head bobbing in affirmation as he grabbed onto the answer the kid supplied him for all it was worth. His eyes shifted over towards the house in the distance and he continued to nod as he swiped his clammy palm over his mouth a few times. "Yeah, it was about Randall."
"Just Randall?"
Shane's eyes snapped up and held onto Carl's very straightforward gaze. The kid wasn't stupid. He was the product of two very smart, very capable people. He wasn't oblivious to what had been going on around them, Shane knew that. He knew it. Whether Rick or Lori knew, or chose to see it, wasn't his problem. He knew it, and his feelings for the kid had him firming his lips and dipping his chin to his chest as he answered.
Because he didn't think he'd be able to lie to the kid's face.
"Yeah," Shane said blinking and working to clear his head. "Yeah, man. Just Randall."
Carl stared for a second longer, his gaze locking with Shane's as if he were trying to read whether or not he was lying. Finally Carl nodded and firmed his lips-much the way Lori would when she was upset- and set his eyes back towards the house. Shane's gaze followed and he watched Carl shift around in an agitated manner.
"He can't do it, can he?" Carl asked quietly, his voice taking on an edge that had Shane's blood running cold. He stared hard at Carl as the boy shifted almost restlessly on his feet, his eyes darting from the house to the barn where Randall was locked up, and then over to the RV before finally locking on Shane. Shane raised a brow and Carl firmed his lips again before letting out a sigh that almost deflated his entire small frame. "He can't do it. Callie tried to-" Carl shifted and looked straight at Shane, those eyes - Rick's fuckin' eyes- starin' hard at him as he let out another sigh. "You don't need to be out here, hiding away. You're not wrong about Randall. He needs to be taken care of, no matter what Callie says, or dad," Carl shifted on his feet and looked back towards the house. "He can't do it though, can he?"
Shane's mouth twitched to the side and he swallowed the lump that formed in the back of his throat. He swallowed and dipped his head low regarding the boy before him through his lashes before lifting his chin and responding.
"Ain't like that," Shane said quietly causing Carl to turn to him with wide eyes. "He's taking his time with it. It ain't an easy decision-"
"It's easy for you," Carl shot back immediately and Shane's brows rose as the boy advanced. "Easy for Danny. So why not dad?"
"Look, man," Shane began, his hand again runnin' over his head as he shook it at the boy standing before him.
"You don't have to make excuses for him," Carl said again cutting off Shane's response. Shane settled his backside against the closed driver's side door and tilted his head to the side as he held Carl's heated stare. "We wouldn't have made it, you know," Carl began his head shaking and eyes shifting off to the side a bit, and Shane stared on in utter fuckin' confusion as the boy kicked at the ground before continuing. "If things had been different. If it had been you in the hospital and dad the one going to try and save you. He wouldn't have been able to leave you there," Carl said his voice getting quieter. "I know he was alive when you left him. He had to have been right? You told us he was dead, but-" Carl stopped and sighed as Shane's mouth opened to say something. What the fuck that something was, he didn't have a damn clue. "I get it. You had to. I'm not mad. It's just, I've been thinking," Carl continued as he started to pace out a small path in front of where Shane was still settled. "He wouldn't have been able to do that. He wouldn't have been able to leave you there, and he would have died trying to carry you out. He would have died there, and you would have died, and I don't think mom and I would have made it out of King County let alone all the way to Atlanta."
"That's," Shane said, stopping and taking a breath as his own eyes widened in fuckin' stupefied awe. He let out a long sigh and rubbed at the top of his head before pursing his lips. A shake of his head and he looked back up at Carl and continued. "That's a lot of damn thinkin' for you to be doin', man. What the hell-"
"I don't understand," Carl said once again forcefully cutting off Shane and stepping closer. "Callie tried to tell me that it's not about guilt. That what dad's doing, what he's thinking," Carl waved a hand out and Shane crossed his arms over his chest. "She's said it's not about guilt, but I don't understand. If it's not guilt, then what is it? He'd have died tryin' to save you if you were in that hospital instead of him. Died because he would have felt guilty if he left you there," Carl sighed and lifted both of his arms and then let them fall. "She said it's not guilt. So what's left?"
"Love," Shane croaked out and then cleared his throat when Carl's eyes snapped up to him. "Love, man. Your dad would have tried to save me for the same reason I tried to carry him out. Love. But he wouldn't have died there, man. He wouldn't have died for me. No way, no how," Shane's eyes shifted towards the house and cupped his hand over his mouth before shaking his head and continuing.
"He doesn't love Randall though," Carl said, his voice hitching up in confusion as he shook his head. The lack of understanding was a bit comical and Shane couldn't stop the chuckle from filtering out.
"No, bud, he don't love Randall," Shane's eyes narrowed as he shifted them back towards the house, his mouth hitching in a bit of sneer as thoughts of just who Rick did love these days filtered into his head.
"I don't understand," Carl said stepping towards Shane. Shane shifted his eyes back to Carl and put lifted his hand to the kid's head, ruffling his hair and tipping it right then left.
"You will," Shane said simply, his heavy hand once again pushing Carl's head around. Carl huffed and pulled away, his hands shifting up to fix his slightly mussed hair and Shane chuckled. He chuckled and turned his back, reopening the door reaching into grab his gun from the passenger seat where he'd laid it earlier.
Silence settled around them as Shane checked his weapon and replaced it into the holster. His eyes followed Carl as the kid kicked around in the dirt near the car, again his head tipping close as he looked into the backseat.
"Is that for the baby?" Carl asked stepping back and jutting his chin towards the back driver's side window. Shane paused, hands settling firmly on his hips as his gaze shifted to the window in question. The car seat settled askew in back the last bit of supplies that they'd grabbed from that trip left to be removed.
"Yep," Shane replied in as nonchalant a manner as he could muster. His fingers dug deep into his hips and his jaw clenched as Carl shifted to once again look at the small seat. The boy's head was bobbing and he shifted again to look at Shane.
"We should move it to the Wagon then, right?" Carl asked and Shane closed his eyes as he let out a breath.
"I was just getting to that," Shane shifted and pushed past Carl as the kid moved slightly out of his way. He threw open the back door and knew he did it harder than necessary when I rammed back into his backside as he bent to lift the fuckin' seat out. He lifted it and Carl was right there, putting his small hands to the handle and makin' to take it from him. Shane held tight and eyed the boy before him.
"I got it," Carl said with a bit of a small smile. "I can take it."
A single beat passed while they both held to the seat's handle and stared. Shane watched Carl's eyes, watched them as they assessed and worked to understand more than just his father's motivations. Worked to understand all the things that he was still too young to even really truly comprehend.
"A'right," Shane said finally, his fingers letting go of the seat and leaving its full weight to the boy still healing from his wounds. Carl winced just slightly and adjusted his grip on the cumbersome fuckin' car seat. He shifted on his feet a bit, eyes again roaming the interior of the car before landing back on Shane.
"That everything?" Carl asked as he craned his neck to try and see what else was in the car. Shane shut the back door and shoved his body back into the space of the now open driver's door. His arms rose and he shrugged his shoulders as Carl's mouth twitched to the side slightly.
"That's it, man. You sure you can lug that thing on your own?" Shane asked with a bit of a smile as Carl again winced as he hefted the thing from the ground.
"Yeah I got it," Carl said glancing up and returning the smile with the barest tilt of his lips. "Thanks, Shane."
"Best get back," Shane said as he nodded and cocked his head in the general direction of the house. Carl nodded in return and started off, the car seat bouncing awkwardly against his legs as he moved.
Shane watched for a few seconds more, his arms braced atop the open car door and his body hunched forward. He watched and found his mind spiraling in so many direction that it was hard to keep his eyes from crossing. The only thing keepin' that dizzyin' feeling from takin' hold was Carl's figure as it worked its way towards the house.
Sighing Shane shifted slightly and plopped back down to the driver's seat. Instantly he felt a twinge in his leg and he shifted to retrieve whatever had caused it. He stared down at that fuckin' zebra striped rattle he'd grabbed from the bus earlier, his thumb sliding over the soft yet worn out fuzz over and over. Finally he clenched his fingers tight around it as his eyes shifted out the windshield to where he could barely make out Carl in the dark anymore. He stared and then lifted that rattle by the little loop of fabric at the one end, his eyes catching on his reflection in the rearview mirror.
Without another thought he undid the Velcro of the loop, put it around the mirror and left the rattle to swing down from it. He watched it swing a few times before lifting his hand and flicking the damn thing, causing those tinkling little bells inside to chime.
He did it twice more, before growlin' and placing his hands tight to the wheel before him. He glared at the dark road behind him reflected in the rearview mirror and waited for the chimes to settle his mind. Waited for something he knew wasn't gonna fuckin' come again.
He'd left her alone for hours.
Left her to breathe as long as he could, as long as he figured she needed. The world around them was still dark, but the promise of dawn was crackling along the edge of the horizon and he figured that had to mean something. It was barely dawn, and yet she was still awake….because she was waiting on him.
Waiting for him to finish what she trusted him to finish.
He blinked past his own exhaustion and pushed off the side of the house where he'd been standing watching her smoke. Her body was hunched over the railing of the porch. Her head down, settled on her left forearm, while a trail of smoke filtered up from her unseen right hand as it stretched out over the railing.
He stared for a minute more, his eyes shifting behind him and then off to the side as he took his first few steps towards her. And felt more than saw the moment she looked at him. And he knew the minute she rolled her head up, and turned to look at him that even though he'd give her hours to breathe…hell, given himself hours… it hadn't been enough.
Not enough to fully quell whatever it was that he had somehow settled between them in that office. Not enough by a long shot.
He didn't really know what he'd been thinking-or feeling- in that office. Or maybe he just didn't want to admit that he did. Because admitting it made it real, gave it legs to stand on and that wasn't something he could do. Wasn't something she would do. He didn't know if she knew-but as she looked at him he had a feeling she did. He didn't know if it would ever go away now, but he knew that they could press past it. They could ignore it. They could deny it into non-existence. Because if there was one thing that the two of them were damn good at these days it was denial.
"I told Shane I was takin' the night," Rick said quietly as he continued towards where Callie was slowly straightening near the porch railing. Her brow quirked and she tossed the remains of her cigarette off into the grass below before settling her hands into her back pockets. The familiar stance took on a strange new feel as his mind recalled exactly what was in that back pocket, and he found himself staring. He cleared his throat when she shifted her weight a bit and he looked back to her eyes, blinking a few times to try and regain his train of thought. "I said I'd take the night, and figured to have this finished by now, but Dale…" Rick had sighed then, his hand lifting and cupping over his mouth before lowering to his chin. "Dale wants us to vote on it. Wants a chance to see if he can..."
"Find another way," Callie said smirking and rocking back on her heels. "Imagine that," she'd smiled a bit more and Rick couldn't help returning it. "Determination runs rampant through we pots and kettles of the apocalypse."
"I haven't changed my mind," Rick said quietly after a moment, his eyes boring into hers. "I still think," he started, and she stood up a bit straighter her chin lifting waiting for him to say the word. And he knew he had to. Because if he couldn't say it, how the hell could he say it out loud how the hell could he say that he was prepared to actually do it. "I still think killing him is what has to be done," he said, his own chin lifting slightly as he stared at her. He saw her lips firm, watched her bob her head in a single nod, and he let out a long breath he'd been holding in. "I think it's the only way to be sure. I can't take a chance. Not with Lori and the baby. Not with Carl. Not with…," he stopped then a sigh left his lips instead of the word that echoed as loud as if he'd actually said it. 'You.' He watched her chin dip to her chest, and he could feel her gaze still on him as she stared at him through her lashes. He shook his head lightly and settled his hands at his hips. "I can't take that chance."
"It's about more than just you and yours," Callie said quietly, and he firmed his lips.
"I know," he replied in a tone that matched hers. "Which is exactly why I'm gonna give Dale the time he wants. Why we're gonna vote."
She nodded and turned to settle her backside upon the railing, her hands settling beside her. Her posture and expression was expectant, because she obviously knew that there was more to come. Rick ran one of his hands over his head and scratched idly at the back of his head where he could feel the small scar from days and days ago in the wood. He scratched and firmed his lips against possibly ruining the ease of their conversation. They stood in as comfortable a silence as they could seem to muster anymore until finally Rick shifted his gaze out towards where her camp with Daryl and the kids was set up.
"Why aren't you …" Rick waved his hand out towards the Hummer and gave a small smile before finishing. "Sleeping?" Rick finished and she cocked a brow as she smirked.
"You asked me to stay close," Callie said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Until you got back and things were finished. Things aren't finished, so," she shrugged then and he gave her a half-smile as he nodded. Another beat of silence and he was again staring out at the Hummer in the distance, his mind picking through the things he needed to tell her, things she needed to know. All the things he needed to know.
"Them stiff legs of yours are gonna break pretty soon, Rick," Callie muttered as she lifted her arms and crossed them over her chest. She raised a slightly humored brow at him but he just shook his head unable to bring himself to even smile at her in that moment. His eyes shifted back out to the Hummer and she sighed. "C'mon, Rick…"
"Does Daryl know?" Rick asked in a quiet yet firm tone cutting off whatever else she might have been going to say. He was greeted by silence, and when he turned to face her the expression on her face was completely unreadable. He turned towards her, forcing himself to stay back instead of taking the step forward that he wanted, his hand reaching out to the railing to further restrain his movement towards her. She continued to stare and he pushed on. "Does he know? Did you talk to him about it? About Randall?" Rick said and his foot had slipped forward despite his efforts. He tightened his grip on the railing as she rolled her eyes away from him towards Daryl's little camp area. "Does he-"
"I didn't tell him. Didn't talk to him about it," Callie said before he could finish the question. She snapped her eyes back to him and he clenched his jaw tight as she raked her fingers through her hair. "I didn't tell him, but he's not stupid. He may not know everything, but he knows, Rick," she said on a slightly irritated sigh. A moment later her brow furrowed and she was stepping towards him. "Why?"
"I need to know more about Randall," he said in reply, his head dipping down as he watched her shoulders square and her spine stiffen. He sighed then, resigned to the idea that no matter what he said to her about Randall that would always be the reaction. No matter what this was a turning point for a great many things between them. He turned his body slightly but kept his gaze on her as he continued, watching her arms tighten over her chest protectively. "I need to know about the group he's with; need to know if it's the same group that-," he cut himself off as she turned away and this time his hand fell from the railing and he allowed himself the steps towards her. His hand reached out and turned her back towards him and he dip his head to catch her downcast gaze. "It has bearing, Callie. It makes a difference to me, even if it is just for you… even if that's somehow the wrong reason for makin' this decision, I need to know. The group should know-"
"Don't," Callie shook free of his hold then and snapped a finger into his face. "Rick. Don't."
"I need to know," Rick said as he stood up straight and watched her continue to point at him. Her hand had lowered as he raised his hands in a sign of surrender, and he'd firmed his lips before he'd continued. "I need to know, Callie. And I need someone to ask the questions in a way that will settle deep in that boy's mind that this group is not one he and his crew would be able to just come in and fuck with."
"So ask Shane," Callie said in an exasperated tone as she flung a hand towards her temple and rubbed furiously. "Why drag Daryl into it? I'm sure Shane would be more than willing-"
"I need someone I trust," Rick snapped at her causing her to glare at him.
"So do it yourself," Callie's voice had taken on a firm tone, each word clear and crisp as she stared him down.
"I don't trust myself," Rick replied in a gravely tone. He watched her head tilt back and chin lift just a little as his words rolled over her and he took one step closer. "Not with this. Not anymore. You asked me not to make this about you, but if I go in there…" Rick had shaken his head then taking in one deep breath before he finished. "I'm tryin' to do this right. I'm tryin'… but if I go in there, you're the only thing that's gonna matter when he starts answering those questions."
Silence settled, and again that low thrumming something edged along the air. And they handled it like he knew they would. They ignored it. They both turned slightly away from each other, instinctively adding space as they shifted their gazes out towards the fields beyond. Both of their eyes settled on the Hummer in the distance, and Rick spared a glance back at the woman standing near the railing with him. She sighed and shook her head and Rick lowered his gaze to his boots.
"If Daryl goes in there," Callie had started, her voice cracking just a bit before she cleared her throat and lifted her gaze to him. "He's not stupid, Rick. He's one of the smartest, most observant asshole's I've ever met. If he goes in there, asks those fuckin' questions for you," she turned her body towards him and he half-turned back towards her in response, his hand settling at his hip. "You trust him that much? You really think he'll handle it that well?"
"I don't think he'll kill him," he responded quietly, the feel of her eyes on him as he stared at his shoes making him drag in a deep breath. "I know I would."
She continued to stare at him and finally he spared a glance up to her through his lowered lashes. Her head was tipped to the side, and her jaw clenched tight as she just stared. Another heavy beat between them and she was advancing on him, a purpose in her stride as her hand reached out and grabbed onto his where it was settled on the butt of his gun.
"You are on the edge of something right now, Rick. And I wouldn't be doing our friendship justice if I didn't pull your eyes away from the bottom of the pit your staring down and slap some fuckin' sense into you," Callie's fingers tightened over his and he stared into her shining hazel eyes in the light from the window behind them. "You know you would. That's fine," she said, her lip trembling a bit before she shook her head and steeled herself. "But trying to give yourself an excuse of fuckin' ignorance to a situation you're creating and expecting me to just swallow it," she seethed out. Rick's jaw clenched as she stepped closer. "You know me well enough to know I'm gonna call bullshit on that. You don't think he will, sure. But let's be honest. You wouldn't mind if he did," Callie finished the statement by pressing her fingers tight against his along the butt of his gun.
He pulled away, his shoulders shifting first towards her and then back as he took one step away. The only step she allowed before she grabbed on to his upper arm and pulled him back.
"You're at the edge," Callie said quietly, and he stared into her eyes as she pulled him towards her. "You are at the edge, and dammit, you don't get to pull away from me when I'm tryin' to pull you back. You don't get to do that," she pulled on him and shifted onto her toes making him clench his jaw tight as she continued. "I will not lose you to that pit. Long as I live, I won't let you lose yourself to this world. It shouldn't be easy, Rick. And you gettin' Daryl to possibly do the dirty work for you, usin' him to clear your conscience," she pulled on him again, her fingers curling tight into his shirt again. "That's not an option. It is not a solution. You know that. I know you do. Otherwise you wouldn't be here talking to me about it," Callie took a breath and shoved her fingers into her hair as she stepped back putting a much needed space between them.
Callie let out an exasperated sigh and Rick continued to stare at her, his eyes bouncing along her shoulders as the rapidly rose and fell with her agitation. He watched her closely, figuring that he'd finally pushed her over the edge. That she was done. And he felt the horror of that notion down deep in the pit of his stomach. Felt it rolling and swirling around, felt it making him dizzy. So dizzy that his eyes slipped down to his boots to make sure he wasn't actually falling like he felt like he was.
She sighed and shifted her hands back to the railing, her head falling down a bit as it shook slowly. He watched her stare at her hands on that railing for what felt like hours, when finally she muttered to herself.
"This world is fucked up."
She'd muttered it to herself, but he'd heard it loud and clear. Heard it and bobbed his head in slow agreement, as his eyes shifted out towards the Hummer and campsite in the distance. He bobbed his head and turned away from her. Turned away and walked a total of four steps before stopping and putting his hands back onto his hips.
He stood there for a few seconds, listening to the sounds of her taking in deep breath after deep breath. Using her rhythmic breathing to steady his nerves. His shoulders lifting and falling easily in time with hers.
"Merle was there," he said in almost the same tone she'd used for her last statement. "He was at that county building," he clarified. And just like her words had carried to him, his found her. Found her and had her shifting up and away from the railing. He turned just in time to see her turn fully towards him again, her eyes wide with shock.
"You saw him?"
"I saw his handiwork," Rick replied tartly, his head turning away from her again for a moment. He took in a breath and turned back to her, watching her eyes shift out towards Daryl's camp.
"Jesus. You're sure?" she asked her brow furrowing more as she shifted slightly on her feet.
"He's got a distinct way of makin' himself known," he said quietly, a sneer tilting his lips for a moment. He caught her eyes then and proceeded to tell her exactly what he'd found at that county building. The pile of burnt bodies. The officer, handcuffed to the fence. The saw…
He told her and he watched her shoulders hunch a bit as she shook her head. Watched her as she stared off into the distance towards where Daryl was at his camp. Watched her battle with what she wanted to do, and what she needed to do.
"Did you tell him?"
"Not yet," Rick had responded and she'd nodded slowly, her eyes still stuck to that camp off in the distance. "Should I?" The question had caused her eyes to snap to him again, and he'd held his ground against the incredulous look she shot him as he took a single step towards her. "He's already moved himself away, already taken that first step to leavin'. This…it could be just the thing to break him away completely."
"We both know you're not worried about him leaving," Callie had said quietly in return.
She'd said it quietly, but it echoed as if she'd yelled it at him. They stared at each other after that, second after second of heavy silence beating down on the both of them. Her unsaid words easily read in her eyes as she stared at him. 'If you don't tell him, I will.' Finally, after the weight of it all had grown almost unbearable, they both turned away. Rick slipped down the nearby stairs and started off into the fields, his head shaking as he walked. His mind was intent on its purpose, and his stride matched it perfectly, but the sound of her voice had stopped him on a dime.
"I'd go with you," Callie said and he turned to see her settled at the top of the porch stairs, her eyes boring into him. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to find some kind of purchase as the crazy spin the world had taken seemed to abruptly stop as she started towards him. He was frozen as he watched her work her way down the stairs and forced himself hold her gaze even when all he wanted to do was hide from it. "You don't want to kill him. You don't want Daryl to ask those questions. And you don't want him to kill Randall. You're just tryin' to figure out the right way to do things. That's why you're giving Dale the time to try and sway the group. You don't want to kill him and that doesn't make you weak." She continued forward and he clenched his jaw tight with each step she took. "We could go. Right now. You and me. Take the truck," her hand flew out towards Hershel's blue pick-up and he felt his body pull away slightly as she came to a stop barely an arm's length away from him. Her eyes shifted to the barn area that Randall was locked up in and she gave a single shake of her head. "We could load him up, and drop him off. Go eighteen miles further down a different stretch of highway. Hell, I'd go as far out as you wanted to. As far as you needed," she crossed her arms over her chest as her eyes shifted back to him and held. "I'd do that…," she stopped there, leaving the statement to hang. Leaving the last two words to silently fill the already heavy air around them. Words he easily read in the depths of her shining hazel eyes.
'For you.'
She'd do that for him.
"I know," Rick replied finally, his voice cracking on the words. He stared at her for a second longer and finally he turned his back and left.
'I know.'
He'd walked away from her then and hadn't spared another look back. Her words were enough of a presence in his mind these days to keep her image alive in his eyes no matter the distance. He'd walked off and out towards the Hummer with an even heavier weight settled on him. Stalking his way through the overgrown grass, his feet kicking out in a childish manner as he wrestled with demons he didn't know how to even begin to know how to fight. He snarled as he walked, his arms swinging harshly beside him for a few seconds before his hands found a home settled at hard at his hips. Rick spared a glance over his shoulder, towards the porch, trying to see if she was still there.
He was too far away to really tell, but something told him she wasn't there anymore. Something in his mind told him she had left him to do what he needed to do. Just like she always did. She'd said her peace and left it to him. Like she said she would from the start. She trusted him.
She trusted him and part of him hated her for it. Hated the blind trust she bestowed on him, when he couldn't seem to.
He looked back to his shoes in the grass and he shook his head. His mind working this way and that with which path he did need to take. What was the right answer? Was there a right answer. He was so lost in his thought that he barely registered the moment he stepped up to the camp. And it wasn't until he rounded the back end of the Hummer, that his eyes shifted up again.
Shifted up and landed right on to the blunt end of Miles' bat an inch from his nose.
"You're lucky I'm not, Andrea," Miles said in an off-hand manner stepping back and bobbing the bat at Rick's face twice before letting it drop. Rick stepped back and glared. "Get your ass shot walkin' around in the dark like that, man." Miles smiled then and Rick let out an aggravated huff. He rolled his eyes away and immediately caught on the slightly snickering form of Daryl, hunched over cleaning or gutting some small dead animal between his legs. The small fire illuminated the other man's features and ignited the slight sneer now riding Daryl's lips as his eyes shifted back down to task. Rick shifted his eyes back to Miles standing beside him, watching the boy's gaze shift from Daryl back to him.
"Give us a minute," Rick said quietly as he dipped his chin to his chest. Miles stared at him for a second before bobbing his head slightly.
"Was just leavin' anyway," Miles said taking two steps back before turning and giving another fleeting look to Daryl. Rick watched the kid knock his bat along his calf lightly, his head still bobbing slightly as he walked.
Miles shifted a backpack, a backpack Rick instantly recognized as Callie's 'go-bag' as she called it, over his shoulder. He lifted his bat in salute to Daryl- who was pretending not to watch- climbed behind the wheel of the Hummer and started it up. Rick's brow furrowed even more as he watched the Hummer start to pull off and head back towards the house and their main camp by the RV. He shifted on his feet then, his hands clenching where they sat firmly at his hips and he began to really look around the camp Daryl had set up.
He hadn't been there, but knew that Callie, Miles, Ben and Gracie had been sleeping there.-When they slept- Knew that, yet the way it looked now, he couldn't really see it happening. There was hardly anything around. None of Ben's things, which usually scattered around wherever they were, even if Callie had told him on more than one occasion to make sure to keep things secure and stowed. None of Gracie's rock collections. None of their clothes hung up dryin' like down at the main camp. All that was left was Daryl, his crossbow, Merle's bike and that small tent.
The small tent that had two other bags settled near it.
"She ain't here," Daryl's voice cracked into Rick's thoughts and had him blinking away from his staring match with those bags. His eyes shifted to the redneck on the ground, glaring at whatever was on the end of his knife. Daryl's eyes shifted up and briefly locked onto Rick's before shifting behind Rick towards the house.
Rick's head shifted to the side briefly and then his eyes moved to where the Hummer could now be seen parked behind the RV. A few figures illuminated by the strong headlights of the vehicle were heading off the porch towards it. Figures that had to be Callie, with Ben and Gracie in tow. Suddenly, Callie's words from a few moments ago echoed into Rick's mind.
"You asked me to stay close…"
Rick blinked hard and shook his head, his hand lifting to rub hard at the space between his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He grimaced at his boots, and rolled his shoulders before shifting back to look at the man now blatantly staring at him.
"I was lookin' for you," Rick said, his voice coming out in a rough tone that he hadn't been expecting. He cleared his throat and blinked as he lifted his chin to regard Daryl. "I need you to do somethin'. I need some information, and I need someone who knows some effective methods to get it."
Daryl growled, his lips lifting in a sneer that had Rick taking a step back as Daryl pushed angrily to his feet. Daryl's head was shaking as he snatched up the carcass of what Rick could now see was a small rabbit. As Daryl's arm shot out, Rick stepped back again the thought of a string of dead squirrels being thrown at him running quickly through his mind. But Daryl didn't throw the rabbit, instead he pointed with the knife he held in his other hand, while tossing the rabbit to the ground near the fire at his feet.
"You and that ol' lady of yours got some fucked up notions runnin' in your head that I'm gonna clear up right now," Daryl snapped as he trudged off towards the tent. Rick followed slowly, watching the other man's back and shoulders as he kicked away a string of cans. Daryl's eyes shifted over his shoulder and he again pointed at Rick with his knife, his words laced with irriation. "I ain't some fuckin' dog y'all picked up along the way that you can just give commands to." Daryl's feet pivoted and he advanced two long strides pushing his face close to Rick's as he spat his words. "Fetch this. Sick that. I ain't your bitch, Deputy Do-Right."
"Calm down. I'm not orderin' you to do anything," Rick said holding his ground as he watched Daryl shift back and snarl at him. "I thought we'd come to an understanding on things."
"I thought you had a brain in that fuckin' head of yours," Daryl spat back. "Guess we're both dumbasses."
"You're mad," Rick began, slowly taking a step towards where Daryl was standing. Daryl scoffed and looked away as Rick shifted forward a little more. "You're mad. I get that. So let's just agree that we don't see eye to eye on things as they stand. And let's fix that."
There was a long beat of silence, with both men just staring and waiting. Rick lifted his brows as Daryl's eyes shifted over him and finally Daryl growled low in his throat.
"The fuck you want?"
"I told Dale I'd give him the day to talk to people about the Randall situation. Told him we'd vote on it tomorrow-" Rick looked up at the slowly dawning morning around them and sighed and again rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Tonight."
"So?" Daryl asked, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. His voice was calmer now, his gaze shifting over to where the Hummer now sat and then back to Rick.
"I need - we need- to know what's comin' at us. Dale can talk all he wants, but the long and short of it is we need to know what Randall knows. We need to know about his group," Rick's eyes settled on Daryl's and there was a brief moment of something that passed between the two of them. A strong something that told Rick immediately that Callie had been right. She may not have told Daryl anything, but he knew the way things were. He knew the way things were, and he knew that Rick knew more. Rick nodded his head then and took a single step closer to Daryl, his hand lifting and a single finger pointing at the still stoic and slightly fuming man before him. "We need to know what's what, and I'm askin' you to help with that. I'm askin' because I'm sure you know some effective methods to get that information. Methods that are gonna ensure that while we're learning what we need to, we're also gettin' a message across loud and clear."
"I ain't a 'we'," Daryl snapped in reply, his sneer returning as his head began to shake.
"You're gonna need to be if you really want this to work," Rick replied, lifting both of his arms to the diminished campsite. "You know that. I know you do." Daryl frowned and lifted his hand to scrape his dirty thumb along his chin. His eyes shifted from the ground to Rick a few times before he began to nod.
"Thought you weren't about gettin' answers the hard way," Daryl said dipping his own head down and regarding Rick with a look that he just couldn't read.
"Yeah, well," Rick scoffed as he turned away, his eyes shooting over his shoulder to Daryl and then back to the house. "I guess I'm not the man I was then."
"Ain't a person alive now that was, man," Daryl said in an off-hand manner, his face scrunching up as his eyes shifted over to the main campsite. Daryl's gaze shifted back and forth from the RV in the distance to Rick settled where the Hummer used to sit. It shifted back and forth and Rick waited for him to say what was on his mind. "She trusts you with this. Trusts you…" Daryl scoffed and shook his head. "Fuck, she trusts you. End of story."
"And she loves you," Rick said in a matter-of-fact tone as he lifted his chin and turned to face Daryl. The discomfort and awe riding the edges of the other man's features tightened a vice along Rick's chest but he shook it off. He shook it off and stepped closer. "So let's work together to make sure we don't fuck that up."
"How 'we' doin' this?" Daryl asked after another beat, the sarcastic emphasis on the word 'we' making Rick let out a bitter chuckle. Rick cupped his hand over his mouth before lowering his chin to his chest. He peered up at Daryl and held his gaze as he dropped his hand to the butt of his gun.
"You remember what I told you about Whitmore," Rick said simply. He watched Daryl's brows snap together for a brief second before he gave a single slow nod. "That still stands. I trust you with this. I trust you, so you tell me now if you don't think you can handle this."
Silence was the only answer Daryl supplied, and Rick didn't really know what else he'd been expecting.
"When we doin' this?" Daryl finally said forcefully, his eyes boring holes into Rick as he sneered.
Rick held Daryl's gaze for a moment longer, working to read what he could of the other man's countenance. He didn't know Daryl well, not nearly as well as he could have probably, but he knew that what Daryl projected was truthful. Daryl didn't leave things to a person's imagination. Didn't leave room for misunderstandings. He gave what he gave, and he expected exactly that in response. Rick respected that about the man, and nodded his head when figured he didn't have to worry about Daryl taking things a step too far.
"I'll leave that to you," Rick said calmly, his eyes shifting back to the house and camp area in the distance. "I need to talk to Dale. Shane. Hershel…" Rick said quietly, a sigh of exhaustion leaving his lips before he could stop it. He heard Daryl give a grunt of acknowledgement and heard the other man begin to once again shift around his camp.
Rick stood there for a few seconds, staring intently at his boots as his mind swirled in that uneasy way it had as he left Callie. Daryl's words playing back on a strange loop. 'She trusts you. She trusts you.' Rick's eyes shifted to the Hummer in the distance and he sighed, his head dipped down again and his eyes slid to where Merle's bike was settled. He stared at that bike until Daryl sucked in a disgustingly wet breath causing Rick to blink and shift his head to the man just in time to catch him spit off to the side and kick again at one of the strings of cans closest to him. This time Callie's words played:
"We both know you're not worried about him leaving."
"You gotta go talk. Go talk. The fuck you still standing here for?" Daryl snarled and Rick tipped his head up and looked at him. Daryl caught his eye and furrowed his brow a bit as he picked up and slung his crossbow along his shoulder, his hand clutching the strap as he glared at Rick. Daryl's mouth hitched to the side in a quick irritated motion as Rick's steady gaze obviously worked on his nerves.
"I may have a lead on your brother," Rick said calmly, his forefinger tapping idly along the butt of his gun settled in his holster. He dropped his hand and stood up straight as Daryl's brow furrowed even more. He stood his ground as he watched Daryl stutter with the first step towards him, then forcefully eat up the distance until he was bouncing lightly from foot to foot glaring in his face.
"That right?"
"Yeah," Rick said maintaining his calm and nodding as Daryl shifted back a bit, a his breathing taking on a slightly agitated edge. Rick's eyes shifted to the bags near the tent, the cans scattered about and the tire marks along the overgrown grass around him before settling firmly back on Daryl. "Yeah. And when we're done with this. When we get this behind us. I'll go with you check it out."
This is more than I wanted
Take me out of the dark, I roam there
Cold and black, you're out of touch, yeah
Lightly falling in a whisper, you're scared
It's the weigtht of the world, I know
As I struggle to be whole
It's the weight of the world, I know
As you were mine and we will find
~Weight of the World / Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (BRMC)
AN: Well, this chapter entered into a new level of hell didn't it? If you're a fan of character development, and are interested, I'd suggest going back to NM:SAFE Chapter 14- Nightmare (understanding what Rick told Daryl about Whitmore….as well as really getting an idea of how much Rick has changed) Made me happy when it worked out as well as I was hoping it would.
There was a lot of groundwork laid in this chapter, and I'm sure there's probably a lot of questions and 'ooooooo's' going on. We're heading into the home stretch… but still, this will be one fuckin' long day… that ends well, y'all might be surprised by exactly how it ends.
Next chapter we'll catch up with Danny who's having a bit of a nostalgic run around in his own brain, Ben and Carl talk Walkers, and Daryl works to come to terms with his new role…and starts asking questions he really isn't sure he wants the answers to.
Much love to all of you, and feel free to hit me up anytime with questions, either in the reviews, PMs or on Tumblr. Happy reading!