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Seeing the blinding sun and feeling the scorching hot asphalt was the last thing Rick Grimes remembered.
In the back of his mind, he regretted not saying 'I love you' to his wife even if he barely meant it. He regretted not staying longer to see Carl off to school. All of that was gone now, he was starting to feel cold. Shane's voice was echoing at the back of his mind as he began to drift farther and farther away.
"Patient's waking up at Room..."
The voice was dull almost muffled. His eyelids felt heavy but he tried to open them bigger than the half-mast they were in right now. His body felt heavy ans his mind filled with cotton. He was running blank of whatever happened.
"Mr. Grimes? Do you know where you are?"
He willed his own head to shake left and right, the muscles of his neck protesting under the motion.
"You're in Harrison Memorial Hospital, Mr. Grimes."
Harrison... King County... Right, shot in the line of duty.
"Lori... Carl..." he croaked out before devolving into a fit of coughs. The nurse propped him up before giving him a glass of water. It was balm in his dried throat as he breathed in and out.
"We'll be calling your wife soon. Sit tight, Mr. Grimes."
"...Thank you...?"
"Cleon, sir."
"Thank you, Cleon," Rick nodded and the nurse smiled at him before assuring he'd be back later.
Rick looked around the room that supposedly belong to him. Taped to the walls were Christmas cards with names belonging to Carl, Shane, all the way to his co-workers and neighbors. Even the nice old lady running the bakeshop wrote him a letter.
Lori's was missing.
She was never the type to air her grievances for the world to see after all.
Rick looked at a vase decorating the dull gray nightstand. It was filled with week-old flowers. He thought he vaguely remembered a blurry figure of Shane holding the same bundle with a look of grimace. He settled for a huff of a laugh before looking at his hands. His fingers curled, watching them unfold. Then he looked at his feet hiding underneath the bleached white covers, his feet couldn't feel the same rough fabric brushing the pads of his fingers. Couldn't even see the silhouette of his perfectly stretched out feet move even if willing his toes to wiggle.
That had to temporary. It just had to be.
The morning light was warm when it hit his cheeks.
"So he won't be back for duty."
The physical therapist looked at Lori with a long gaze. Rick knew his wife wouldn't falter. He decided to focus scratching the leather of the wheelchair's arm instead.
"Muscle atrophy happens and even with routine stretching, it takes time to recover, Mrs. Grimes. It's already a miracle he didn't suffer major damages."
Rick would've felt his whole life crash if that happened. Hsi career, his role as a father, felt like ending if he become this forever. Sure, adjustments could be made but it wouldn't be the same. All Rick wanted right now was to go back to the way it was before.
He looked up from his ministration and caught his son—Carl had grown up so much—across the room, watching him with that too prying gaze. It was hard to believe Carl had only been away from his sight for a year, he shot up like a goddamn tree. It was unbelievable. Yet the childish glee of seeing him, of being around both his parents in a getting rare occasion was gone. Now Carl stood there at the corner of the room, watching the doors and the windows before back at them. It made Rick paranoid too but he didn't know where to look, what his son even see.
It was almost heartbreaking remembering the way the bright smile falter and die from Carl's face. When Rick offered a hug. In the dead of night he kept asking himself as Lori slept beside him in a growing distance in their shared bed, What did I do wrong? How should I've acted? How can I fix this–
Yet here he was, a week since his recovery and still trying to fit back into the life he left behind.
Shane was there more often than not. Filled the space of their home where Rick couldn't and he had never been more grateful for the man. Even if there was this nagging feeling of—No. He was a good man. Shane was a good man. He owed his son and wife's wellbeing to him. It's not fair to think of him in such way—suspicion with the way Lori and Shane hovered around each other. The gazes Carl threw his way wasn't helping either.
As always, Shane was waiting outside. Already have the trunk and cardoors open. Lori slid onto the passenger seat, discussing her agenda for the next day and listing Rick among them like a chore. Not once asking him for any opinion. Shane obliged with every word either way. Carl sat next to him, not looking.
"How's school, Carl?" Rick asked just to drown the talk between his best friend and wife. Carl could have looked sideways to catch his gaze. Instead, Rick noticed that he developed a habit of turning fully on his right. His neck twisting to get Rick in full view before answering.
"Nothing much... just normal stuff."
That was the end of it.
There was someone standing by the door of their bedroom.
Too small. Hair too messy. It didn't approach them. Just a silhouette by the door and the barely there light from the window of the corridor.
"Carl?" He called out either way because who else could it be?
The silhouette moved, running away from their door. Soft pitter patter of feet disappearing as it got farther and farther away. Rick should chase whoever it was.
But it could have been a dream. It could have been just a play of his imagination. He hoped it was.
The door was still open when morning came.
It had almost been a month since he woke up and his recovery was fast. Rick was proud of himself to overcome this, to fit the glove of who he once was again.
In truth, being left alone in the house didn't feel so good. Not when he could have sworn heard footsteps or even random scattered objects around the house. The food, especially the sweets, were depleting faster than he thought. Carl would barely touch the sweets, claiming to be sick of eating chocolate pudding or anything chocolate at all. Yet randomly and carelessly, leftovers were picked apart messily and any biscuits in the pantry left open with cracker dusts on the floor. Lori would get frustrated every now and then, scolding her son and even Rick who'd deny it. Carl wouldn't even try, either he knew it was him or just tired of Lori calling his defense as backtalk.
He waved a goodbye to Shane riding the cruiser with his current partner, Ramirez. The paper stamped of FIT TO WORK grasped in his hand as he jovially hopped onto the doorstep, keys clinking together as he opened the house. The couch pillows were on the floor, not where he had left it. Rick picked them up, that creeping feeling of dread eating at him. He repositioned the pillows to have something to support Carl's back. His son had taken a liking on looking out the window at night, falling asleep more times than Rick or Lori could count on it instead of his room.
Carl's room was locked last night though when Rick checked. Even if his son was on the couch where Lori had to wake him up. Reprimanding that it wasn't going to be good for his back to sleep there every night.
Rick stopped for a moment, looking up to the second floor where Carl's room was. He cautiously went to grab a hamper under the guise of doing their laundry. He climbed upstairs, first going to his and Lori's shared bedroom. The contents of the bathroom hamper was unceremoniously dumped into the one Rick was hauling. Then with one hand, dragged it to Carl's room.
It was locked.
Was he cutting class and staying here? They were going to have a talk about this.
He brought his keys to the doorknob, careful not to make them clink together. He twisted it the same time as he did to the knob. The hinges creaked but already pushed fully open by Rick. The door gently bumped against the wall.
Carl's room was a bit different now. The posters were gone. The cartoon bedset too was replaced by a dark blue spread on it. A math workbook or english novel strewn here. A shoe peaking under the bed there. It looked lived in, just less... childish, Rick guessed. Of course, he's a teenager now.
He picked up a t-shirt left on the floor. Rick was about to shove it in the hamper when he noticed something. The deputy leaned closer and pinched the light blonde curly hair from the red crimson shirt.
Someone was here.
It could have been a kid from school. A friend, it happens. It was a school. Yet there was a feeling coiling in his gut that something, someone was in their house.
"I'm saying it's just for safety," Rick said as pointed at the flyer presented to Lori on the marble kitchen counter. "Just couple few here and there, Lor. Ain't nothin' bad."
"We don't need those, Rick. Besides, they take up so much electricity. I'm not in the mood to adjust our budget," Lori answered exasperatedly, not even glancing at the piece of shiny paper once.
Rick felt kind of... frustrated. Here he was, worried for their safety and Lori was dismissing it. "It's for our safety. Something's in the house, Lori, and I–"
"What're you trying to say, Rick? Are you implying something?"
He blinked, not expecting the edge in her tone. Her gaze was guarded as if Rick was drilling her for no reason. "I ain't implying anything, Lor."
"No, I think you are. C'mon, say it. Tell me!"
"For fuck's sake, Lori, not everything's about you!"
It seemed his failing marriage was still... a failing marriage.
You would think that near death would have gotten them together but it created a bigger rift between him and Lori. It was like every time he breathed wrong now, Lori got agitated. Every time he spoke, it was an incovenience. Like she just wanted him to exist but never speak, never interact, as she build a new life with Carl and Shane.
It was hard not to see how it was going. Not when even Carl could see through their cracks and say that to Rick.
Silence ruled over the house once more. Rick couldn't take it anymore.
"I'll be home late. Don't wait for me."
Just like that, he left.
"Rough day, huh?" Rick broke his staring contest to the void, looking at his partner who watched the barren streets of King County.
"Just... fuck, I feel like a shitty parent, Shane."
"Hey, you're tryin' yer best. You've been gone for a year. He's a teenager, Rick, I'm sure he don't mean none of it."
"Well, I expected him to say shit like he hates us," Rick started. Teen years were probably the worst with raging hormones coupled with the desire to die. "But are they suppose to say that?" When Shane gave him an inquisitive look, doubting that there's anything worse than your kid saying you should die in a fire.
Rick adjusted on his seat, facing the driver's side of the car to truly emphasize the gravity of the situation. "He told us that he'd feel better if we separate, Shane." That caught his partner's attention and he nodded as if to say 'see?'. "We never fought in front of him and we've never–God, were we that obvious? And the way he said it... like it was inevitable... are they suppose to say those things?"
Shane looked away, Rick noticed how long he took to answer it even the way his shoulders slumped. He was far too afraid to name it and even if he did, it felt futile to even compete as this point. All he wanted for now was for someone to listen. Even if that person might be somehow imvolved with your wife.
"He's just being a teenager probably."
Rick fucking hoped so because the alternative was him being an awful father.
"Patrol 08 we've got code 0-11, red pick-up approaching county borders by Route 17, over."
"On our way, over." Rick answered and then Shane was off to the night, taking another route that would cut to 17 and just in time too as the said red vios drove past them, headlights and signals blinking normally. It was going off in a normal speed, too, leisure as if it wasn't stolen.
"Fucker really thought he'd get away, huh?" Shane jeered as his sirens blared in the quiet and they watched the vehicle pick up speed for a moment. Rick was prepared to hold tightly for a chase but suddenly, the vehicle stopped.
Just... stopped at the side of the road, waiting.
Rick fell back to give a status report while Shane went on ahead, hand near his gun. "We've got the guy, bringing him in, over."
"You have got to be kidding me!"
Rick stopped, hand on his standard-issued gun when he looked up and abandoned the talkie to go aid his partner. Shane was just standing there, flashlight on hand and the shock reflecting on his eyes as it flitted from Rick to the driver. Rick didn't waste time to look and his heart sent to shock when he saw a familiar mop of hair.
"Carl?!" He couldn't help but holler and the boy just snuck a glance and waved weakly with one hand while holding the steering wheel in a death grip on another.
"Hi, Dad."
"What are you doing here?!" Rick's eyes roamed until zeroing on the mess of wires taped together. The fucking car was hotwired by his son. "Who put you up to this? You're not like this, you wouldn't-"
"Is that a kid?" Just when it couldn't get any worse, Shane's beam of light was trained straight to the passenger seat where indeed, a toddler was sitting. Her blonde curly hairs frame her face with blue eyes. Her cheeks were rosy and stained with apple sauce. As soon as her eyes met Rick's she began to squeak—not squeal, squeak—with how tiny the noises were as if trying to keep quiet. Her smile was bright as she reached out with sticky fingers towards him as best as she could with a cup in hand.
Curly blonde hair... Oh Gods–
"Carl, step out of the vehicle, please?"
"I'm not drunk." Carl looked at Rick straight, he mourned the past where he could read every single crease on the boy's face but now, any hint of an emotion or thought was gone.
A blank poker face aside from that new mannerism of his to squint. Rick sighed, "I believe ya', I do, but this is procedure."
Carl's eyes jumped here and there before relaxing. "Don't take her away."
Then the seatbelt of the driver's side clicked and Rick felt the door push open forcing him to step back as the other got out. He closed the door and stood there, waiting for any instruction.
"Could you walk in a straight line? Tip to sole of yer shoe..." Shane instructed and Carl did it without any sluggishness. Rick stepped closer, tried to catch the boy's eyes but everytime the line shone through them, he couldn't see anything that usually involved drugs.
"Dada!" The door of the passenger side was opened and tiny feet ran in front the headlights.
Carl tensed sharply. "Judith, no! Get back in the car!"
Rick didn't have time to prepare as tiny hands hugged his leg, sticky still from the food but all Rick could look at was the tiny child wearing his son's shirt, tucked as best as it could from behind. She giggled quietly, nuzzling his pant leg in a way that he couldn't help but pick the little girl up under her pits, just as he had always done with Carl when he was younger. She settled at the crook of his neck so casually, chanting 'Dada' all the way and Rick stayed silent while Shane tried to get Carl to cooperate.
"Jesus, kid. What were you thinkin'?" Shane asked out of the blue as they still have to get Carl into the station. Tow was gonna take care of the stolen vehicle and currently on their way. Carl ducked at the back of the police car, not handcuffed and Rick focused on burying his nose on Judith's curls. It was a surprising effect the toddler had on him. "Where are you even goin'?"
"Nowhere," Carl called out, but picked at the hem of his pants. "Just trynna' help find her dad."
"This late at night?"
Carl shrugged, not really bothered.
"It's dangerous, Carl," Rick couldn't help but pipe in. "That's an adult's job. You both could've gotten hurt."
"Had worse..."
"What was that?"
"Nothin'. Didn't say nothin'." There it was, the squint of eyes from the rear view mirror yet again that he was starting to pick up as a show of annoyance. Who the hell taught that to his son? As the silence stretched and Shane awkwardly looked from time to time between them as they turned another street.
Rick looked down again at Judith's unruly blonde hair. The memory of the shirt with a stray golden hair flashed in his mind. "How long did you have her?"
"..."
"Carl."
"A while..."
"How long is a while?"
"More than a month...?"
"She was in our house, wasn't she? You've been hiding her in there?" He sounded so indignant, so angry. All this time, ever since he was released, it was a toddler wandering his house and somehow, someway, he never caught Judith. Not. Once.
"She listens most of the time..." Carl's reasoning was weak—flimsy at best but he said with a hint of pride and Rick was simply mind blown of Carl's priorities.
"Why wouldn't you tell us? No—scratch that—Why would you even hide a little girl in our home?"
Carl shrugged again, weakly this time. "Jus' couldn't leave her crying..."
Oh God, take me now. Oh, God, I could have been wanted for child kidnapping–
"You gonna tell mom?"
Of course, he would. Before he cluld answer though, Judith was slapping his cheek. Calling Rick's attention until he lokked directly at her. "Dada, Dady?"
What the hell was the difference of a Dada and Dady? Surely the kid assumed he was her father, right?
Yet he couldn't bring himself to ignore her so he just brushed her hair until she lost interest and snuggled back under his chin.
Carl leaned closer, hand clutching on the headrest as he whispered, begged Rick for the first time in its most sincerest form. "I ain't gonna do it again. I... I just want one favor and I promise, I'll do everything right."
Rick remained silent, feeling the little girl trace his face especially his chin. Going back and forth repeatedly with her palm to feel the stubble growing there. Carl took it as a sign to continue.
"Don't give Judy up to foster. Let's take her in for the mean time, I'll look after her, she ain't gonna be a problem to y'all. I promise."
Judith looks about... a year old.
Same time as he was being gone. He was fearing what that might mean with Carl's attachment to her. His throat felt parched as he asked in a fearful manner, "Is she your...?"
Rick started and Carl furiously shook his head while also laughing hysterically. "Fuck, no! It ain't like that!" Rick winced at the profanity. He was sure Lori wasn't going to like hearing those coming from Carl. "She's like... a sister."
"You barely knew the kid, Carl. Ya' can't just pick a little girl off the street." Shane reminded as the bright fluorescent lamp of the station came closer. The cruiser slowing down as they parked in front the building.
"Mhmm, sure," Carl commented.
Rick knew it was going to be a pain to ask for two things right now to the Sheriff.
Rick Grimes expected too much with returning to his old life.
The house wasn't empty. His son wasn't the same. His wife was drfiting farth than ever. And now...
Rick looked down again, didn't expect to be startled by Judith's wide blue eyes. Face framed almost cherubic by golden hair while her fingers tangled on the collar of his uniform, staining it heavily.
Holding her... felt right.
Her calling him 'Dada' felt right.
It was something he couldn't explain to even himself.
From the backseat, Carl shifted restlessly. He watched him at the rear view mirror, realizing after a long while that things have already changed.
The world moved on without Rick Grimes.
He didn't understand. Not yet.
But maybe he could.
The station lights flickered outside as invite. Rick held the little girl tighter, breathing out in defeat.
"Alright."