Chapter Text
You'd killed a man once. In broad daylight, dead center of a long overgrown back road, on a run with Shane just days before the farm was overrun. At first, it didn't register. Seeing him drop had been surreal, though you knew exactly what you had done; squeezed and felt Hershel's 38 jump in your hand.
The blood hadn't so much sprayed as it had been suddenly emulsified in the air. A thin red mist hanging in the street. Around Shane, as he tilted his head back to frown at you, hands still level with his shoulders.
Just as surprised as the man that had been holding him at gunpoint.
Shane hadn't been shaken. He'd flinched, but who wouldn't at an unexpected gunshot? Level headed, he was at your side in an instant, urging you back the way you had come.
Not letting you see.
"Is he..?"
"No coming back from that." Shane kept his hand on you the entire walk, leading you by the hip. Squeezing. Possibly unaware of the panic creeping up your spine, but you doubted that. He always knew. "That was a good shot, but I ain't so sure I want you using weapons near my head no more."
In the back office of an abandoned liquor store, Shane found a working lock and reminding you exactly why you needed him so badly.
It was no use resisting. If it had been, you would have been furious with him forever, after the Lori incident. But Shane hadn't let you stay angry; just like he hadn't let you stay on your feet.
He rewarded you by putting you in your place. On you knees, after stripping as much as he could get off of you between the desk and the door. Then he wrestled his way into you; breathlessly laughing at your feigned struggle.
"I'm gonna knock you up, you hear me?"
"Don't-"
"Shh, shh, Darlin'. You shut that pretty little mouth," When you pushed, your fingers brushed against the hard granite V of his abdomen. Hand hooked at the nape of your neck, he was stealing your affections. Forcing you to kiss him back, exactly how you liked. "This is your fault. Looking like that, coming out here alone with me…" Shane said that, but you'd gone shooting with him. He'd been the one to drive into town and insist on poking around together. Looking for ammo. "You just take this cock- let me do all the thinking."
With no true force in you, you knew that you should have tried to stop him. "Gonna fill you up like a good little whore. Get you nice and pregnant."
True to his word, when he came he crushed you against himself, thrusting with every grunt, and then he held you there; cock plugging his seed in you as he scraped his teeth down your throat to maintain his mural of revenge.
Dripping wet, he made you pull your underwear up, overly conscious of every dribble of come leaking out of you.
Shane never skimped on the aftercare; making a point of holding you by the fire every night he had his way with you.
It could have been only to draw Lori's eye, but you didn't care.
He wanted you.
Not only in his lap, riding him, but curled against his chest while he toyed with the hem of your dress. At your thigh, his fingers were twisting in the fabric, threatening to flash the men around the fire while you pretended not to notice. Maybe he actually was showing them your underwear.
Daryl in particular. The younger man had yet to break his vow of silence, but if he had, you were sure Shane would have retaliated with the same vein of thought Daryl had enforced in the beginning. Neither man wanted you to associate with the other. Shane had made it clear that you were his personal rape toy.
Nobody else's.
You could almost hear his voice now. Hear him saying your name. He'd made a point of it after the incident.
Storms had been rolling through all week, and you thought Shane would have made for good company. Rain pattered against the metal roof of the shelter you'd reclaimed from nature. A small barn, only large enough for two dead horses; both of which were, thankfully, in the field and picked clean.
There was something reassuring about farms. It was a minor comfort, not only in being relatively familiar, but in having entirely fenced in yards. Secure borders that you could rely on to keep the dead at bay if they were still on their feet.
In your isolation, you were starting to realize what a person actually was. What all of you became when you were alone. Animals. No better than any mare in a bed of decomposers. The same beetles and butterflies that feasted on them would break you back into the earth.
Into mushrooms and flowers.
That was why humans kept to groups, you thought. To remind themselves that they were capable of more than basal thought and primal need. It all turned off with enough time. Long enough and the only thing that seemed to matter was yourself.
Not out of narcissism, but need. Like a fox chewing through its only leg to escape a trap, everybody had to shed pieces of themselves to survive.
Rick's group was that to you. The Greenes and everybody else that didn't speak up for Shane after Rick confessed what he had done. How could you have stayed?
As much as everybody hated Shane, it wasn't like you could turn to the Greenes for support. Not after Hershel's somber, guilt inducing lecture about modesty and good Christian values, even in the face of societal collapse. When he saw the evidence Shane had painted across your throat the first time, you were surprised he hadn't gone straight for his shotgun.
He'd clearly been more angry than disappointed.
Not with you, but seeming to only blame Shane; the womanizing bastard, seducing you while you were vulnerable. After what you had seen happen to your boyfriend before him.
There may have been a lot of feelings after what happened in town, Hershel had said, and tensions might have been high, but what about Jesus?
You'd been wondering the same, though, perhaps not in the tone he had used.
Alone, you flourished. Bag of toiletries in hand and steeled against the cold, you had taken full advantage of the rain and the fenced in open platform of the stable. A thick canopy of clouds blotted out the noontime sun, making the world a touch cooler than usual, but the scent of actual soap reinvigorated you.
Turned you back into a person, rather than an anomaly of nature.
There had been activity in the area. At least a dozen freshly killed walkers were strewn across the dirt trail to your snares; faces caved in by something undeniably silent and possibly blunt. Handheld.
Gun at your fingertips, you eased down the hillside. Just in case.
Nothing popped out of the bushes as you reset your trap, widening the wire again after a failed trigger.
Oftentimes when you were alone, you hummed, just enough to fill the silence. To hear a voice, even if it was your own. On some days, your thoughts came out. Gave you something to listen to, to remind your lonely ears that such a thing existed. Processing and reason. Words. Now, you did neither.
You were starting the hike back to the barn when you turned around and saw it. Motion.
Walkers weren't known for their cunning. Some were a little strange, but they were few and far between. You had never known one to hide behind a tree.
The satisfying click of Hershel's 38 snapped you back to your senses. Heavy, and reminding you what you were again.
When you started forward he came out all at once, as if you weren't armed. Like he didn't expect you to draw on him, but your stomach had churned at the sight of his strikingly blue eyes. Something about the man immediately struck you as strange. Maybe it was the way he was standing, with his fingers centimeters from the gore caked handle of the hatchet hanging off his duty belt.
Or the lack of expression.
Rick was usually warm. Smiling, even in the slightest sense of the word, to show his pleasant disposition well before actually speaking.
"I knew it." The man said with a palm plastered over his mouth. "I knew you were out here. I saw you."
He took a step forward.
"I swear to God, Rick, you wouldn't be the first. I'll shoot."
"Please," Hickory waves dripping down his face, the man showed his palms. Low to the ground. As if he could side step a fucking bullet. "What are you trying to tell me? Just say it."
Tilting your head, you squinted at him. You thought you'd been pretty straightforward.
Rick had waited a month to confess what he had done. One long month of kindness and thinking that he was trustworthy. Of him listening to your concerns about Shane; hoping that he was safe and sound with Andrea, wherever she had gone. Surely, they would have escaped together.
Rick had done it himself and looked you in the eye while you distressed, going so far as to reassure you that everything would be alright. Never that Shane was, you realized, in retrospect. Only that things would be, eventually. It would all work out.
You should have shot him right there. While you could. Avenged Shane and got over it.
"Lori, put the gun down."
You saw red.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Both of you? Do I look like Lori? I ought to-" Crying out in frustration you jabbed the gun at the man. Instead of going backwards, he was perfectly still. Didn't even turn his head.
You were shooting the next person that called you Lori, plain and simple. At this point, you deserved a free pass. "Get out of my way."
"Wait-" Brow furrowed, the man stood there. Staring at the treetops, then the leaf speckled ground under his feet. "Wait a second, no…" Rick was looking at something off in the woods, at a distance. He turned. Fully took his eyes off you, as if you weren't threatening his life. When you craned your neck to follow his gaze, nothing caught your attention. No walkers or people. Not even animals.
"What? Did you see something?" You found yourself asking. The man shook his head. Blinked.
Something was clearly wrong with him.
"Hershel's girl? God, is that you? Are you still out here? Alive?"
For a moment, the queerest thought crossed you. Daryl could have slipped on a mushroom ID. What if they were all out there, running around like he was? It'd be impossible to wrangle them back together.
Rick still showed no alarm at the sight of your gun. Had a single hand up as if it was an afterthought, but that wasn't the level of submission the situation called for.
He wouldn't appreciate it now; being shot for what he'd done. Wouldn't understand. Wouldn't know.
If Shane was alive, he would have stopped you.
The man in front of you was a mess, now that you gave him a good look. White t-shirt heavy with rain and streaked with dirt; jeans five shades darker than what they should have been. Hair uncombed, face unshaven. Blood streaked his visage. No doubt a combination of his own and sources you'd rather not identify.
The decorations he'd left by the roadside.
Even if you walked away, it didn't look like the wilderness was trying to eat him alive with nearly enough dedication.
"Look…" More of a sigh than a word, the air came out of you. You dropped your aim. Sucked in a long, steadying breath as you turned away to walk off the tension. "I won't shoot you in the face, okay?"
It wasn't fair. How could you kill him like this?
"That's awful kind."
"Not right now, I mean. Something's wrong with you." He still wasn't looking you in the eye. Where was Rick even staying? Most likely with Maggie's group still; you couldn't imagine they'd kick him out and steal his son, and Carl was nowhere to be found. "But when you're back to normal? I'm gonna put a bullet in you."
"Now, that doesn't sound fair."
"Does to me."
"Stop it, don't even say that. You're not like that. We're not like that."
"Alright." Again, you looked the man over, feeling the weight in your hand. The blood, dripping down your vanilla scented fingers. If he wanted to pretend, you could do that, too.
Rick watched as you holstered your gun, statuesque in every sense but how his blue eyes tracked you as you passed. The same way he had watched your desertion after his little psychopathic speech. Not holding Shane's Glock, but he may well have been.
The image was burned in your mind.
Just as before, he allowed you to leave, but this time his head was down as you carved your way back up the path; leg mended, but no less wounded.
For a while, he stood like that, holding his face. Unmoving.
You weren't sure what he was doing down there, but it wasn't your business. Rick wasn't your responsibility.
In fact, it was in your best interest that something did happen to him, you didn't know why you were still looking.
If the entire group had been out with him, you couldn't imagine they would have been far. Especially not from a main waterway while they were all tripping balls in the woods.
For a while, it was silent. The rain let up to allow a break of sunlight, and a fading hint of warmth against the damp breeze. Then you heard his footsteps. His voice, calling out your name.
"Wait a second!" He cried, but you did no such thing. "It's gotta mean something." Rick said, and though you didn't participate in the slightest, he carried on as if you had. "Finding you like this- there's a reason, I know there is."
Bitter words were pooling on your tongue, but it was pointless, so you swallowed them. "I don't believe in coincidences, it's not a coincidence."
"Shut up, Rick." Anybody in their right mind would have gone the opposite direction and preserved their luck. "What are you even talking about?"
"Lori," He said, and you felt another string inside of you snap. "She…"
Just like that, it dissolved away. The look. Your wrinkled nose, and narrowed eyes. "Oh," He sounded as if something physically hurt. "Oh-"
Your steps slowed to a halt, and the man stopped at your side, one hand over his mouth.
Trying to hold it in.
You didn't want to be sympathetic. Didn't want to feel anything for him, or her. Part of you thought of Shane and what that would have finally meant for you. A small one, but it was still there. Whispering.
"Hey," Hesitating, you closed some of the space between you, unsure of whether it was a betrayal to offer comfort as you reached for him. You dared to press one finger against his bicep. Only one. Before you could say anything, he was wrapped around you, squeezing you into himself.
Stealing the support you'd purposefully chosen to withhold.
Arms awkwardly jutting out at your sides, you tried to wait the attack out. To deny him a response, but it made no difference to Rick. He held you there, body jerking as his fingers dug into your back. Face buried in the crook of your neck, as if it was you that he was actually clinging to.
Goosebumps sprung across your skin. Reminded you that it had been months since a man had touched you. Half a year, nearly.
That was how he got you. Dangling human contact in your face like a carrot. A part of you died an hour later when you were walking him through the door of your shelter. Bearing most of his weight as if he were actually injured and required assistance.
As soon as he passed the threshold, the man was falling into your bed. Out for the count, and intent on hiding under your covers, rather than his own.
"Rick…" Pulling a towel from your bag, you tossed it over the man. "You're gonna catch a cold."
He snorted. Made it clear enough that you'd said the dumbest thing he'd heard in a while, even in his condition. "I mean it. Look! You're getting my bed dirty, give me your clothes!" Annoyed, you pried the man up. Forced the towel into his hands to try and get him working on cleaning himself as best as he could while you set some water to boil. "I'll actually shoot you!"
A dry, expressionless puff of air escaped him. Unimpressed. Then he grinned and dropped his head, like he could hide that he was laughing in your face.
As if you hadn't already told him that you'd done it before and would do it again.
Rick's presence was more grating than you expected it to be. You had fed him. Washed him with a warm, damp cloth while he stared into the fire, practically ignoring your efforts. He wasn't talking. Wasn't bothering you at all, but the room was loud in a way you couldn't comprehend. The man's clothes were strung in the rafters, well away from the actual fire, but high enough to profit off the warmth.
Wrapped in a towel, he watched as you fiddled with the plywood board you'd fixed over the metal pipe gate to the yard. Just enough to give the smoke an escape. When you sat beside the flames he actually spoke, though you'd hoped he would spare you.
"He was my best friend."
"Shut up, Rick."
"You think I wanted to do it? He tried to kill me."
"I don't believe you." You weren't letting him destroy your image of Shane. He may have been able to take the man himself from you but not your thoughts. Not the way you still saw him. "I don't care about you, or Lori, or Shane."
Pinching his lips together, the man stared into the flames. He snorted. Nodded.
"Clearly."
"God, are you gonna talk all night?"
"Hell, I might."
You scowled. Sucked at the insides of your cheeks as Rick wagered a lopsided grin, eyes far clearer than they were before. Pleased. You couldn't stand to hold his gaze. Didn't even try when you realized that he wasn't waiting for you to say more, but showing something you didn't want from him. Pity, maybe.
He thought you were an idiot.
You were buried so deep in denial that a madman was questioning your grasp on reality.
Rick may have been right. As much as you despised him and Lori, you'd heard the latter before, telling people all manner of things they had no business knowing about her husband. He was too gentle. Too weak. Didn't have a backbone, and never took charge or showed even a shred of anger, no matter what she did or said to him.
That was what she'd claimed, at least.
For a while, you'd even believed her; having heard some of the offhanded comments she made to him and witnessing his mild responses firsthand.
Before he'd murdered your soon to be boyfriend. Sort of boyfriend. Like eighty three percent.
Rick had never raised his voice at, or harmed anybody else you knew of. He tended towards harmony, even when they'd returned with one of your old classmates; and you knew how Shane had felt about that.
What he wanted to do when he realized Randall was familiar with you and the Greenes and they brought him back instead of letting him go.
Rick had no idea what kinds of things you'd done to get by on your own. What you'd had to do. He was underestimating you, and maybe that was a good thing. Mouth pursed, you glared at the man. Wanted to say Shane wouldn't have done such a thing over Lori when you had been right there. So close. Committed. You had killed for him.
You'd thought that had to have been enough. What more could he have wanted from you? Shane was an easy decade older than Daryl, but this time you were sure that it wasn't the age gap, it was him. His obsession.
Again.
Time faded from existence until all that remained was the dancing fire; low flames licking at the shoddy grill above them. Safely contained, but just as mesmerizing as if they had been free.
Sitting up in your bed, Rick lifted the edge of his towel to his face and sat there. Not crying, but flushed. Existing. Maybe his eyes were as dry as yours, now. Empty. In spite of the sentiment. There were always more tears, but never at a good time.
Rick didn't move when your fingers skimmed up his back. You smoothed the olive towel across his shoulders, eyes fixed on the discount grill as your touch weaved up the nape of the man's neck. Still weighted under the dampness of rain, his dark brown waves ran nearly straight as you detangled a lock around your pointer finger.
You didn't expect him to lean across your lap and anchor you there; arms curled around the small of your back as your touch drifted further. Toying with his hair. Straightening it as best you could, and breaking his long waves apart for some semblance of order. As if somebody may see him.
Rick laid there longer than you would ever admit. Eyes closed. On the edge of sleep the entire time as you rubbed his shoulders and massaged the tense muscles of his back, slowly unwinding the consciousness from his body. Savoring the softness of skin. The weight and heat of another person.
Spineless.
It wasn't the same as shooting a stranger in the street, or stopping an active threat. There was time between you. Months of knowing each other, and being generally pleasant.
Friends, even.
You'd shared meals. Shared tables, and mutual connections. Tapped glasses in cheers. Your loved ones thought highly of Rick, going so far as to stay with him over you when you made your stand in Shane's defense. It hadn't even been a question to them.
Wildly uncomfortable, you stared down at the man in your lap. Inside of you, there was a churning. Something delicate and tender.
"I'm really sorry about Lori."
Leaning up, Rick twisted back to study you. "Even if… Y'know."
The words settled between you, filling out the silence with far more than what could be said.
Warmth covered your fiddling hands, bringing a sudden stillness to them. Against your better judgment, you allowed the man to intertwine your fingers. Didn't pull away, or object, even going so far as to squeeze back.
He leaned towards you, and you thought he may lay back down, but Rick brought the back of your hand to his mouth. Didn't verbalize it, but pressed his apology into your skin.
For a moment, you let him hold you there, gaining a solid three kisses before his lips met your bruised knuckles. Your fingers.
He was drawing you in. Pulling you underneath the covers, beside himself, as if you'd actually share a bed with him.
That was out of the question. Never.
Body heat made up for the distance of the fire as you laid beside the man. Surprisingly hot, in spite of the thinness of the comforter, or the fact that he was barely in his boxers. Fingertips slipped under the edge of your shirt. Started to pull. You caught his hand.
"Rick-" That did nothing to stop the drag of his touch.
"It all makes sense now." As if speaking too loudly would snap him from his own delusion, he kept his voice low. "I was right. There's a reason; it makes so much sense now. God, why didn't I see it before?"
"There you go again- what are you talking about?"
Pushing up, you angled yourself out of the bed, but your arm was snagged and your back hit the mattress. In an instant, Rick was on top of you. So close that you thought he may try to steal your lips, and you threw your head back; stretching away.
"I found you for a reason." He was insane. You had already known he was in some sort of mental distress, but this was beyond what you expected. You were angled away when his palm scraped up your collar and throat, leaving nowhere to go but sideways as he tried to draw you into his grasp. He was leaning over you. Trying to get you closer, somehow, as if it wasn't enough already.
"Get away from me!"
"Think about it. It makes perfect sense. It's not a coincidence; don't tell me you don't see it."
"You're out of your fucking mind." Those were the words coming out of you, surprisingly less venomous than intended. Concerned. Shaking your head, you shrugged away from the man's grasp, but never managed to truly slip free.
"You're gonna catch a cold."
The words barely registered before you felt his touch digging under your shirt again.
Rick already looked strong before he'd gone crazy. Now that you had a chance to smack his hands off yourself, you were able to witness that strength first hand. You were batting at him. Smacking him back like a mutt, but his forearm came up to fend off your attack, pinning your hands low against your belly. In spite of the way you were trying to catch him, the weight on your hip disappeared.
You'd only been able to gasp as the metal skidded across the wooden floor. A silver glint sinking further into the dark abyss of the far corner of the second stall.
"What do you think you're-" You twisted over; pushing off, but he caught you.
"Stop that- Wait- Don't scream, I'm not-"
You weren't sure what he was trying to get at, because he wasn't actually saying anything useful.
The fabric you were hugging to your body was yanked over your head. Shoving at the man's shoulders and chest, you bucked, struggling to work your way from underneath him, but he had a thigh on either side of you, and seemed an immovable force. "Just- Calm down." He said, and you didn't know how he thought that was a valid command given the situation. "Calm down."
Still pushing but weaker than before, you willed yourself to comply. To stop, and wait for him to sort himself out before either of you did anything stupid.
Slowly, you managed to bring a pause to yourself. You stared up at the man straddling you, arms crossed over your bra, held in place only by the way he was leering at you. Torn as to whether the night was going somewhere you actually wanted, and which one of you was worse.
Featherlight, his fingertips trailed your arm, sending a wash of pinpricks over your skin. You sucked in a breath as he brushed your decency away. Held it.
"God, you're..." Swallowing, he pursed his lips. Bit back whatever he was saying as his palm dragged down your body. Rick stretched over you, flattening you into the thin mattress, though you had gone along with him. He managed to get one of your wrists as a frustrated sob broke through you. To get his mouth on your jaw. Down your neck, and to your collar. Your fight was starting to die.
"Stop," You managed, but your fingers were slipping through his hair as he pressed a kiss into your side and the sensation radiated through your entire body, bordering ticklish, but far more deviant.
Blistering and coiling in the pit of your abdomen.
He hadn't tried to get your bra off. Hadn't lifted it, or touched your chest at all.
No. Rick's mouth went to the line of your shorts. Trailed across your abdomen, just under your navel, sending little shockwaves of contact through you. Then lower. To your thighs. "Fuck, stop it."
"I won't do nothing," The man said from underneath the covers. Definitely in the process of something that you thought qualified. "I swear."
His attention slid back up your body and you arched. Pulled, rather than pushed.
"Rick, please,"
"You smell so fucking good." Face buried between your breasts the man inhaled, and a cold burst of air washed over your skin. He kissed again. Ran his tongue across your sternum and made you squirm down into his lap.
Rick was drifting away again.
Teeth scraped at your side, leaving no choice but to give him the reaction he so clearly wanted. Your voice caught, dragging into a whine as he lowered himself between your thighs, already sucking as he plucked at the button of your jeans, and you tried to grasp at the edges of the fabric.
Caught and unsure of whether you wanted to see where his attention was going, you covered your mouth as you felt his breath in the joint of your thigh. Warm.
Hungry.
You wished he would just do it.
Wanted to feel his tongue, driving you up the edge, but he went back to your thighs after the threat; pulling your leg over his shoulder, and assaulting the one he had pinned to the bed. Not daring to even attempt the edge of your shorts again
"God, Rick, please." This time, it was unclear what you were asking him to do, even to you.
If you grabbed him and pulled him back you were as bad as he was; molesting his best friend's sort of girlfriend. Like, ninety nine and a half percent. "We really can't. I'm trying to kill you."
"Yeah?" You were holding the back of his head when he came up from under the covers; tilted just inches from your lips. "Are you?"
Practically breathing the same air, you nodded, and he mirrored the motion, mouth hovering so close you could almost feel him. "I don't think you're trying hard enough."
He was right.
You knew it. Shane probably knew it too if life was terrible enough to continue after death.
"I will," Compelled to stay in line with the man you didn't move at the first sinking threat of contact. "I will."
He shook his head, and you found yourself doing the same for some ungodly reason. Entranced by a charmer into mimicry.
Maybe that was why he kissed you; to implant a spell to convince you otherwise.
Rick's hips drove against yours, and your head went back at the sensation of the hard line of his cock; far larger than you thought he deserved. His voice vibrated in your ear with a moan, deep in his throat. If anybody ever asked, you'd put up a good fight.
You didn't know what happened.
It really wasn't your fault.
Maybe you had kissed him back, but that was instinct. Completely unintentional and meaningless; you'd hardly been left with a choice.
Just like the way he collapsed into you. Breaking a dam of contact as his hand scraped down your body, snagging and taking your shorts along the way. You didn't try to get away because there would have been no point. Even when he leaned up and you raised your hips to allow easier access. It would have been useless to stop him. You were just being safe. Of course.
His fingers wound around the band of your underwear. Pulling them tight, then to the same fate as the garment before.
"Wait, no-" He'd slipped down your body so quickly you hadn't been able to catch him in time, but his shoulders were under your thighs before you knew what he was doing.
Rick's tongue swirled against you, gleaning something akin to a choked whimper out of your throat as he sucked you into his mouth.
Body tense, you tried to get away. Tried to squirm, and push at his shoulders and head, but the man managed to weather the storm, wrapping his arms around the backs of your legs, rather than letting up. He kept you there; writhing and calling out to him as if he hadn't heard you the first time. Reduced to grabbing again, and pulling his hair as you pleaded for mercy.
After everything that had happened, there wasn't anybody you hated more.
Eyes squeezed shut, you tried not to give into the tongue lapping at your pussy. A traitorous feeling was flooding your insides, but you refused to let it out. Refused to let him fully have his way; covering your mouth as if the sensation could be contained through there.
He lavished your clit in attention, holding your rigid legs at bay as they tried to close on him.
Unable to smother the noise pouring out of you, you arched; fingers still tightly laced against his scalp. Hips bucking against the flooding hotness of your failure, you ground yourself against the man's nose, as if his tongue could get deeper. Hoped for a finger next, or something else. Something better.
Maybe Rick wasn't the absolute worst.
There were a few people you hated more than him, pre-apocalypse. Like the person that kept stealing your designated parking spot outside of your dorm. Or that one teacher. You knew the one. Wouldn't even think the name.
Shane had been a little impulsive.
Just a touch leaning toward the side where it was possible that he could be violent. He had been angry with Rick, and you had all seen it getting worse every day.
Without even acknowledging what he had accomplished, Rick was back to kissing your hips. He laid against your stomach with a palm cupping your ass as he pulled your thigh back to his mouth and bit down.
Far more silent, you laid there, face burning hot as you watched him. Hypersensitive to the scratch of his stubble and trying not to think too hard about it, or even at all as you smoothed the messy waves from his face, back behind his ear.
He sighed and a layer of tension seemed to crumble from his shoulders. You guessed you didn't mind sleeping like this. It wasn't the worst arrangement you'd ever had. What choice did you have?
Somebody had to keep an eye on Rick, after all.
White light poured through the sliver of space above the runyard gate. The stable was quiet, with just the kiss of morning humidity hanging in the air. You turned over and found a form slouched by the fire. Fully dressed, and angled towards you, rather than the grill.
Forehead perched in his palm, he was silent as you sat up with the sheet tucked against your collar. There was a sideways frown at your nakedness. As if he hadn't been the one to strip you down. In his lap, he was turning Hershel's revolver over. Studying it.
"You're up." Unsteady as your footing was with the man, you thought it best not to acknowledge it immediately.
"Just as surprised as you are." He said and though you didn't want it to, your mouth tried to curl.
"Feeling any better?"
"Now why would you care about that?"
You rolled your eyes. "They been looking for you, you know that? Been looking for months; Maggie and Glenn. Hell, even Daryl."
"And?" This had nowhere to go. Rick knew it. You knew it. If ghost Shane still had the stomach to watch you, he probably did, too.
"We've got a nice place. Plenty of room. Safe as it can be."
"Good for you."
His gaze drifted then, and slowly, the man nodded. Once, then again, as if still processing the unspoken denial. When you stood he kept his head down. Didn't even peek as you dug into your bag and stepped into a fresh pair of underwear.
The man started to say something but cut himself off. Then he sank lower into his palm, the muscles of his jaw working into a knot.
"You won't come back?"
"I already told you." It was a humorless snort of a response. "No. Just… Say that you saw me. Tell them I'm fine."
"Nobody's gonna believe me."
Dressed, you eased towards the man.
Rick watched your every move around his shoulder. As if you would actually try something when he had not only his own gun but yours. The man allowed you to take to his side; one hand on his back, the other gently pulling him into a loose hug.
"That's alright." You said, pressing a kiss into his temple as your fingers hit the wooden handle of your 38. He caught your wrist. Turned to look you in the eye, and your smile dissipated to give way to the icy truth.
Even out of it, he wasn't fooled.
"That's how it's gonna be?"
"What do you mean?"
This time, the snicker you earned was round. Full. It divulged further. Deepened, and stretched into a full out giggle.
He spoke, but it was an incomprehensible mush of words; lost and never deciphered. Rick was still laughing when he yanked you forward by your arm; unexpectedly painful. And then he wasn't. You cried out, catching yourself on your free hand, but it was like he already knew the exact motions.
How to throw your balance and use your own weight against you.
"Stop resisting." You didn't stand a chance. All at once you remembered Rick was a cop. Not just a cop but the fucking sheriff, and you were an idiot for waiting for him to regain some of his senses.
"That's not fair!" You heard the familiar voice that had been keeping you company the past couple of months; angrier than you'd heard it before. Twisting and kicking, you struggled against the weight perched across the small of your back as your wrists were pinned together behind you. He was circling something around them. Fastening them together. "Rick! What the fuck! You can't just-"
"I already knew." He said, far calmer than he should have been. "Wasn't no point in asking. This is how it's gonna be."
"What?" You snapped over your shoulder, mustering the meanest death stare you could but the man was unimpressed. "You can't tell me what to do, I'm an adult!"
"Tell that to Hershel."
"No!" Pushing up as much as you could, you tried to tug at the cord he was jerking tight around your wrists. Trying to cut off your circulation. "Let me go! Rick! I should have shot you when I had the chance, after what you did- I can't stand you! Get off of me!" Kicking your legs did nothing.
He had you at his mercy again, only this time he wasn't so sweet.
Rick pried you up and propped you in the corner before jabbing a finger in your face. Then he looped the cord around your knees. Frowning, you wondered if he'd keep going. If he'd tie another, maybe around your waist to fix your wrists to, or between your legs; you couldn't take it. Lips pursed, you glared at the knot he fixed just above your knees. Wished he would reach between your legs to see what he was actually doing, but Rick was far too decent for that.
"I'll run away." You said as the man yanked your bag from the ground and started stuffing your belongings inside.
Your pocket knife, your hatchet. Sheets, canteen, everything he could find. "You can't keep me. I'll leave as soon as I can. Why would you even want me back? You have to sleep sometime; I'll do it. I'll wait until you're asleep and- and-"
"Stop it." Brown suede bag in one hand, the man turned toward you. Arched a brow. "If you were gonna shoot me in my sleep you'd have done it last night."
"How do you know that? How can you trust me? You killed my-"
"Your what?" It was cruel of him to say such a thing. To make you question it.
Dropping your head, you pursed your lips. Felt the sting and blinked it back. "That… I didn't mean that."
Sure. You didn't respond. If there was no point in fighting you would do what you could. Refuse to talk to him. To even acknowledge him. In silence, you watched the man pack your entire barn into your bag. Not like there was much to gather.
Your fingers couldn't reach the band he'd tied, and there was nothing sticking out of the wood to catch it on.
No way to get something sharp enough to cut yourself free. When Rick finished with your belongings he hoisted your bag over his shoulder and kneeled before you. Tilting his head as if you would grant him the privilege of eye contact.
"Y'know… When all this started, I was in a coma. Thought I was dead."
Brow furrowed, you stared at the lofty wooden rafters. Ignored him in a heap against the wall. "He found Lori and Carl. Kept them safe. Alive."
You were doing perfectly fine without him. Weren't going to entertain him.
"I'm not leaving you to die out here like everyone else. You're coming back. You'll thank me for it later."
"Right." You muttered.
"You were Shane's so now you're mine. You hear me?"
Your heart skipped a beat. Though you had been scowling, the expression was turning. Relaxing into a frown. You looked at the man. Met his blue eyes, unsure of what to make of his declaration. With a length of twine hooked as a leash around your wrists, Rick was surprisingly careful when he took hold of your arm. "Get up."