Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

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Rick laced up his boots while I lay wrapped in the blankets on our bed. The kids were still asleep, and the house was almost eerily quiet. I turned onto my side, trying to make it seem like I was still sleeping so Rick could have this time to himself. Just like how I need some time alone to go and visit Carl's grave, Rick needs his time as well. It's an unspoken rule between us. We both miss him and still feel his absence, but we have accepted it. I don't want to say we're over it because I don't think we'll ever be over it, but we don't hurt as much as we once did. The pain in our hearts has become something we're used to. I felt the bed dip beside me again, and Rick's warm lips brushed against the skin of my arm before he left the room, closing the door behind him tightly.

I sat in bed and rubbed my face, wiping away the stray tears from my eyes. I just hope we're making Carl proud—this is what he wanted and envisioned for us. I reached over the side of the bed and grabbed my stacks of books, opening them up to the pages I had bookmarked the previous night. I buried myself in reading about the Magna Carta, the Declaration of Independence, and the Constitution of the United States and Mexico, Spain, and France. I need all the help and inspiration I can get when writing this new constitution for our communities. If we find more communities, we can revise and add them.

I was in the middle of reading the constitution of Mexico when the door opened, and Rick came in again. I looked at my wristwatch and realized that at least a full hour had passed since he left. He smiled at me and closed the door behind him. I bookmarked the page and closed it, smiling at him as he neared me. He lowered himself onto the bed and kicked off his boots, lounging on his elbow and smiling at me.

"You can't seem to turn that brain of yours off, can you?" Rick asked with a smile. He caressed my knee, his fingers trailing up and down, "I know you. You'll have this constitution thing squared off by supper if you keep up like this,"

"No," I chuckled and rubbed my eyes. I'll have a rough idea of what to put onto the constitution by supper, but I won't have the actual document written up.

"This is good," Rick murmured, his fingers stopping their movements and stilling on my thigh, "You're leading this place," I rolled my eyes and moved some of the books to the side.

"With you," I added. Why does he always say things like this? He makes it seem like he doesn't contribute or protect us around here. He's the reason why we're all here in the first place.

"Nah," Rick answered, "I've been at the bridge. It's you that's keepin' this place safe, figuring out how to make it better," I ran a hand through my hair, remembering how Thad and Judith were feeling yesterday.

"Speaking of," I sighed, "Judith has a cough, and I think Thad's teething again. He was running a fever yesterday and screaming his head off,"

"Yeah," Rick answered. He came in late last night from the bridge after I had managed to put the kids down to sleep, but Judith was coughing up a storm all night, "No fever. It's just a cough. We'll have to find those teething toys for him to chew on to help him. Nothing we can do there," I cocked an eyebrow, my worries getting the best of me.

"I think I'm going to take them to Siddiq just in case," I groaned inwardly. Judith hates going to the infirmary. The last time we had to take her, she threw the world's biggest fit—rolling, kicking, screaming, and crying bloody murder.

"I'll go with you," Rick smiled, "We're going to have to promise her a family fun day just to get her to step foot in there," I couldn't help but feel relieved to hear that Rick would help me with them today. I don't know if I can handle a screaming eight-month-old and a temper tantrum from a three-year-old.

"I'd appreciate it," I smiled, but wait, doesn't he have to go back today? "Aren't you supposed to go back, though?"

"I can take the day," Rick shrugged, "I can," He reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it, "We can."