Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

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I sat in the dim room, glued to Carl's motionless figure. He's been unconscious for two days—Two stressful, worrying days. Rick came and went, taking care of matters in the community. Deanna was bitten when the walls first came down, so technically, there wasn't anyone in charge. Rick wants to do this together, but I can't focus on anything right now—all my attention is on Carl.

The door opened, and light flooded into the dark room, making me shield my eyes. Rick, Daryl, and Selena entered the room, all their eyes on the boy in the bed. Selena approached, grabbing Carl's left one as she sank into the chair by the bed. It was sweet how Selena worried about Carl as much as Rick and I did. According to Denise, the woman taking over the infirmary and everything medical, Carl could wake up within the week. She has high hopes for him.

"June," Daryl's rough voice called out, breaking the silence. I looked at him and nodded in acknowledgment, "June, why don't you go home with Rick for a few hours? Get some sleep, maybe take another shower?" I had to be dragged out the morning we returned and thrown into the shower by the rugged man in front of me. I hadn't moved since I came back ten minutes after that ordeal, and I couldn't bring myself to fall asleep. Rick approached me and gave me a tight smile, his blue eyes burning holes into my face.

"Come on, June," He muttered, "Selena will be here, and so will Daryl. If he wakes up, they'll come get us." Rick has been off since I came back—he hasn't been like himself, but I couldn't focus on that either. "It'll be an hour at the most, okay?"

"You should go, June," I looked up and frowned at Selena, meeting her sad eyes, "I'll come get you right away if he wakes up. I promise." I sighed and nodded, slowly rising to my feet. Rick grabbed my hand and helped me stand, his warm hand feeling amazing against my cold one. We started walking, hand in hand, out of the room. I gave Daryl the tightest smile as we passed him, grunting softly as his large hand clapped me roughly on the shoulder.

The sun hit my eyes harshly, making me shield them from the intrusion. I haven't stepped outside in two days; the sun isn't a friend of mine right now. Rick led us down the familiar street, a fire burning off in the distance, and the smell of burning bodies wafted through the air. Rick placed his hand on my lower back as we approached the house, gently pushing me up the steps and through the door. The house looked exactly the same since I saw it last, messy and dishes piling in the sink. It's still strange to me how we could have a normal life here where our worries will be survival and keeping a tidy house. I sat on the sofa and buried my head in my hands, taking deep breaths as worry consumed me. What if something happens and I'm not there? What if he wakes up scared?

"Hey," Rick sat beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, "He's gonna be fine, okay? He's strong." I nodded and leaned into him, my head resting on his chest, when I suddenly felt sleepy. We sat there for a few minutes; his arms wrapped tightly around me as I tried to fight my fatigue. He felt stiff underneath me, his heart going haywire under my head. I looked at him with questioning eyes and tried to stifle a yawn. Despite his hammering heart, he flashed me a forced and nervous smile.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sleep dripping in my voice. Rick shifted under me and loosely held me, his throat clearing.

"There's something I have to tell you," I closed my eyes and hummed, letting the frantic beating of his heart soothe me. "The night you guys didn't come home, something happened." I hummed again, curious but not letting it consume my mind. Rick sucked in a deep breath, a faint whooshing sound making me smile slightly.

"I snapped at Jessie," Rick started. Does he feel guilty for being an ass to her, and now he can't apologize because she's dead? "I went to her place that night to apologize, and well..." My eyes opened at the regretful tone in his voice, and my heart started to mimic Rick's. I sat up, studying his guilty appearance. Don't tell me...