AN: I don't get around to answering reviews one by one, and I'm sorry for that, but I want to tell you all that I thank you for your support with this story and I'm so glad that you're enjoying it. Your encouragement means a lot to me.
Here's another chapter.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol stood there, barely able to catch her breath for a moment.
If she was hearing Rick correctly, then he'd basically offered what was the closest thing this world had to a marriage proposal.
"You want me to—help you," Carol said, trying to repeat things back in the hope that he might clarify them for her so that she could be sure not to make a fool of herself because she'd misinterpreted something—maybe because she wanted to hear him say something that, in actuality, he hadn't. "To—to help you lead the group?"
Rick nodded.
"Yes," he said. "I want you to help me…lead…to help me in everything," Rick said.
His voice waivered slightly, but he continued to speak.
"We've been together since the beginning, Carol," Rick said. "You were one of the first people that I met when I got to the quarry."
He smiled and raised his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly.
"I remember the first night I met you," he said.
Carol felt her cheeks burn hot and felt her stomach churn slightly. She shook her head at him.
"With Ed," she said, hoping to leave it there. She sighed. "That was a long time ago, Rick. Well, not really, but it was a long time ago. Things were different then. We were different."
Rick shook his head.
"You weren't different," he said. "You weren't. You were—still you. You were still doing what had to be done."
He chuckled.
"Even if it was laundry and ironing my pants? You were doing what had to be done," Rick said.
"But Ed…I was different," Carol said.
Rick shook his head again.
"No," he said. "You weren't—maybe you weren't fully you? Maybe you weren't free to be you? But you were who you are today, Carol. And—Sophia?"
Carol shook her head then, harder than before.
"Don't," she said.
Rick visibly and audibly swallowed.
"I should've done more," he said. "Back then…"
Carol cut him off.
"You don't have to explain anything to me," she said. "OK? You did what you had to do. You did—what you thought was best. You did what you could do."
He shook his head.
"I didn't do what I could do," Rick said. "I did what—I didn't what I should have done. I didn't do for you—for your daughter—what you'd have done for mine. Or, I think, for anyone else's."
Carol swallowed, choking on a lump that was comprised of so many feelings at the moment.
"I love Judith like she were my own," Carol said.
"I know that too," Rick said. "I've known it—even when I've ignored it. Carol—it's been us. You were there for me, you were there—you were there for Lori, even when I wasn't. I appreciate that. I—never could say it. But I appreciate that."
"It's been you and me—and Carl, and Daryl, and Glenn," Carol said. "All of us."
"Last men standing," Rick said, some humor coming into his voice. Carol smiled softly and nodded, her heart heavy for a moment at the thought of all of those they'd left behind. Some, like Ed, she was happy to have left in the Atlanta soil—but others? They left their holes.
"It's been all of us," Carol said again.
"Carl is growing up," Rick said. "One day? I dream of a place where he can have a normal life. Where Judith can have a normal life. Maybe it's too much to ask, but I dream about them finding someone—finding love. Knowing what it means to without the fear that—that they've hardly had the chance to live without."
Carol nodded.
"It's what any parent would want," she said, giving him just enough to continue since it was clear that he wasn't done speaking.
"Glenn has Maggie," Rick said. "And—with any luck? They'll have a family someday. Daryl? Daryl left—he came back, but he left. He's…"
"A free spirit," Carol offered quickly, giving the nicest name to something she couldn't quite put a name on honestly.
Rick nodded.
"It was you and me," Rick said. "I almost…I came very close to ruining that. I need you. I need you to keep me safe from myself—I need you to work with me."
Carol shook her head at him.
"You don't need me," she said. "And—I don't want you to need me."
His face fell somewhat. At the moment he was wearing his emotions on his sleeve and on his face. It was clear that what she'd said wasn't what he wanted to hear—or at least that he'd interpreted it in a way that made it what he didn't want to hear.
"I don't want you to need me, Rick," Carol said. "And—I don't want you to be my boss. I don't want you to own me. But…"
She broke off, assuring herself of her next words before she let them leave her lips.
"But if you want to be my partner? If you want to—be beside me? If that's really what you've decided you want?" Carol said.
Carol didn't even get to finish what she was saying because Rick interrupted her this time. He kissed her, softly, and then he broke away. The affection, apparently, was just supposed to keep her from saying anything else. Maybe it was supposed to confirm that he did want what she'd suggested. Either way, that's what it said to her.
She laughed ironically to herself, amused at the next feeling that washed over her.
"What?" He asked quietly, prompting her to share it with him. She shook her head gently, dismissing it, but he tipped her face toward him and held her eyes a moment. He was asking her to tell him—he wanted to know.
"It's nothing," she said.
"Then tell me nothing," Rick responded.
She licked her lips, dampening them with her tongue. For the way her mouth felt at the moment, she was surprised to find that her tongue wasn't dry like she might have imagined it would be.
"I expected something different," she said. "I expected you to…"
She broke off and he prompted her to continue.
"What?" He asked. "What'd you expect?"
"I expected you to be angry," Carol admitted. "I expected—you to tell me…to leave."
Rick turned quickly, walked a few steps away from her, and then he turned back to face her. He shook his head at her.
"I'll never be able to undo it," he said. "But—I'll never ask you to leave again. If you'll stay with me now? I'll never ask you to leave again."
Carol took the chance, then, to make her own show of faith. She closed the distance between them and she was the one that reached up, cupping her hand behind his neck, rubbing her fingers for a second in the overgrown hair there before she pulled him toward her to bring their lips together, this time with more enthusiasm than he'd shown in the kiss that he'd used merely to silence her before.
And he responded wholeheartedly. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him, and as she deepened the kiss, he lowered his hands and grabbed her.
Anticipating what he was doing, Carol wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted herself just as he lifted her body, helping him to make the transition as much as she could.
He carried her to the creaking old farm bed—a bed she'd almost thought she was going to spend the night sleeping in with Michonne, curled up together like sisters—curled up in a way that Michonne enjoyed but wouldn't have ever wanted Carol to tell anyone she requested when they roomed together and apart from everyone else.
He eased her down on the bed so that it barely even groaned with the shifting weight. Carol broke free from him just enough to nuzzle his face and she laughed to herself, overcome with how much lighter she felt just for knowing that he knew—and that it hadn't changed anything for the negative.
"I wish you would shave this terrible beard," Carol whispered to him.
He pulled away and smiled at her. The smile cracked into a laugh.
"You hate it?" He asked.
"You don't?" Carol asked.
"I feel like Grizzly Addams," he said.
"And you look like him," Carol confirmed.
"First chance I get? The beard goes," Rick said.
"If we're—if this is going to be something that we tell everyone," Carol said.
"We're telling everyone," Rick said. "Tomorrow…"
He kissed her neck and ran his tongue along the point where her neck met her shoulders, bringing it up to her ear where he bit gently at the lobe. Carol shivered, the feeling shooting through her.
"If we're telling everyone," she said, surprised at the poor quality of her voice, "then—in a way? This is sort of like…a first for us. A first…nevermind," she added the last word quickly, embarrassing herself slightly with even thinking that way.
Rick shook his head at her.
"No neverminds," he said. "It's a first…it's our first…official…"
He broke off.
"You don't know what to call it either," Carol said softly when he paused and looked somewhat uncomfortable. He shook his head in response.
"No," he said. "I know what I'm calling it, but I don't know—if that's what you…"
"It sounds strange, doesn't it?" Carol asked, hoping they were on the same wavelength. She was wishing that they were. She had a good feeling, too, that they might be. "It sounds strange—here and now—to ask you to make love to me."
She felt her cheeks burn hot and she balled her hands up in his shirt, pulling him toward her, the action giving her something to do with the nervous energy that the words brought out in her.
"I've never really said that before," she admitted.
Rick slipped his hands under her shirts—catching all the various layers that she'd piled on at once—and slid them upward, bringing the shirts as far as they would go before the tank tops caught at her breasts. Carol moved enough to help him get them off and he tossed them to the side.
She unbuttoned his shirt for him—one that he'd had since the prison and that she'd washed herself, but it still appeared to be filthy. She ran her fingers down his chest slowly and then looped them around to his back as he slipped it off and let it join her shirts.
Pants and boots, for the sake of being practical, was a job that each took to their own for the moment. Carol didn't need the theatrics and neither of them needed the frustration of trying to get the other out of the costumes they donned for every day wear.
When they were out of their clothes, Rick joined Carol on the bed. For a few moments, they spent the time together like they'd never touched before. They let fingers do their gentle exploration of plains and bumps and curves and scars. Then, Rick broke the contemplation of their fingertips by bringing his lips to his and setting off on a journey to her jaw and down her neck before slowly letting his lips retrace the journey his hands had taken.
Carol joined him. She pulled him back up to her, stealing a kiss from him before they fell into a type of dance—something that began to look like "a kiss for you and one for me" in lover's form.
She might have been satisfied, honestly, to spend the whole night doing just what they were doing—a gentle, quiet contemplation of one another, but she enjoyed too when Rick moved to tease her and to take them both in another direction.
She pulled him up, interrupting his good intentions and moved so that she could see his face.
"No," she said. "I—want to see you now."
It didn't take more than that for him to move from his position and bring his body over hers. He kissed her again and she moved, helping him to bring them together even without breaking their kiss.
She moaned into his mouth with the feeling of it and for a moment he didn't move beyond working his arms under her back and pulling her to him in an embrace.
When, finally, they started to move together, Carol did her best to do what she'd asked him to let her do in the first place. She looked at him, focused on his face, and watched it. She watched him go from calm and serene—the Rick that she knew he could be but wasn't always—to someone who was wrapped up in the moment to a point that he couldn't look back at her. And then he came back, opening his eyes to her, watching her in a way that was almost uncomfortable because, she realized, no one had ever watched her face that intently while making love to her—if anyone had ever really made love to her before.
And whether or not that was truly what they were doing? She believed it was—and she thought that he did too—and that was good enough for her.
Because, whatever it was, it felt different than anything she'd ever felt before. It felt like something she wanted to hold onto—even if only as a memory.
When her self-consciousness got the best of her, and she found that she couldn't let go for fear of what he might think of her in the moment, Rick must have sensed it. He moved to put his mouth next to her ear, and with a warm, damp blow of his breath that almost pushed her over the edge itself, he simply told her to do just that.
"Let go," he said. "I want to see you now."
And Carol did let go. She let him see her come undone with him being the one to bring her there. And he followed after. She watched him, too, as he let go of everything for the moment.
And she appreciated, when they'd both had a moment to collect themselves, that he moved to blow out the lamps and came back to turn back the covers on the bed—sealing the fact that he wasn't going anywhere, he was staying for the night—and that he wrapped her in his arms as soon as they were situated under the covers, kissing her face one last time as he breathed a goodnight to her in the darkness.