A Week

The sky is still dark when I stir. The confusion at the strange room quickly makes way for the pain that seems to coat my whole body. I push upright, but my right shoulder especially screams and I swear under my breath. I drag up the sleeve of my t-shirt, I was right. My skin is an ink plot, dark purple and blue. The patches continue down both arms, and are starting to form around the pink skin holding splinters.

My knees are rubbed raw, my elbows the same. They're the least of my problems but still sting when I bend my limbs. I look over, Glenn is still asleep, curled in a ball with a blanket flung haphazardly over him. I lie back down, meaning to give myself a few minutes to encourage movement, instead I find myself woken by Glenn what must be a couple of hours later.

“Sunrise.” He says simply, “We should get off in a bit, we can be back by lunchtime then.”

“Yeah.” I yawn, lifting my hand to my mouth and wincing. He's watching me carefully, “It's not that bad.”

“Your hands are, worse than mine.” He catches them softly, but lets me tug them away and start looking more closely at them. I'd gotten most of the blood off my hands with a splash of water last night. There's still a multitude of thick splinters protruding from the delicate skin though and I cross my legs, feeling my tongue prod the inside of my cheek as I try to pull some of them out. “You might be better letting the doctor do that.” Glenn hesitates. “They really sting.” I tell him, wincing as I pull one particularly nasty one out. The blood starts dripping slowly onto the grubby mattress. “I don't want them to get infected.” He makes some noise of disagreement but leaves me to it.

“Well I need a wash, or something resembling a wash.”

“You do,” I agree. I'm in a far worse state and I can feel how matted my hair is.
“Well, if we get sorted, check out the rest of the house and head off then back for lunchtime is a good bet...probably.”

“I love a good probably.” He grins now, I share it, although there's a sour taste in my mouth. We both stand, check ourselves over, all our various aches. There's nothing that can really be done until we get back, all he can do now is try and avoid putting weight on an ankle I can't even recall him hurting. We check over the bedroom, all but ignored by us the previous evening but other than a hidden pistol and some outdated face wipes which I use liberally there's little else of use. Glenn finds a couple of shirts, sniffs one but swaps his anyway.

It's horrible, and I tell him so, laughing when he pulls a face at me that I return. We're okay now, back to the usual ease of a run together. Yesterday was a fluke, a terrible mistake. We can't allow it to be any more than that, we learn from it, we don't dwell on it. At least, we dwell as little as possible over the possibilities. They're easy enough to imagine. Glenn's clearly thinking about he same lines, examining some half used perfume and spritzing some with little thought. “Don't waste that if it smells nice.” I warn, heading over and snatching it, spraying myself heavily. He pretends to gag but the joke falls somewhat flat. He's thinking about getting home, he's thinking about Maggie and it's her he mentions, “I don't want her to know how close that was.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, I have no problem making light of the situation, hell, it was what I did the vast majority of the time. Maggie didn't need spoon feeding though. I agree, “Yep, that's fine. We'll downplay it a little, kay?”

He nods. “Come on, let's check the right of this place out before we head off.” We heave the vanity from in front of the door, it seems like much more effort than it had last night and my shoulder is pulsing. He knocks heavily several times, and when there's no noise, there shouldn't be, the house had been clear the night before we move out. It's a quick job, there's a bit of non-perishable food we grab, Glenn sees an interesting DVD. There's not much here, even out of the way. The owners had taken everything of value when the world was ending. Maybe they thought they could trade it for more useful supplies.

I didn't like thinking of who must have lived in places like this before. I didn't like thinking that my clothes belonged to someone else. “Done?” I tell him I am, placing down the little figurine I was fiddling with. “I'll check the car, and I'll drive, save your ankle.”

We swap a few times on the drive home, we're both still tired, and it's a nervous energy that keeps us going. The drive is easy enough, we spot a few more houses we had planned to check on the way back and we do. There's a couple of walkers, easy jobs, but it ruins another shirt and I'm thankful for the clothes found earlier on. As we draw closer to the prison Glenn is even fiddling with his hair. Other than the multiple scrapes, splinters and bruises coating us he wants to keep up the pretence it wasn't that bad.

I'm more than happy to go along with that, and all I want is a shower and my hands checking. Everything else will hurt and heal, but the last thing I want is an infection. “Quit picking them.” He scolds, voice making me jump. “You will get them infected.”

“I'll get you infected.” I mumble, a poor joke that barely causes a grin. It always takes a couple of day s after a bad run to get back to normal. And this had been an awful one. And even scott-free, well, barely damaged and with a good haul it clung to you. We're in silence for a little longer, and I wonder if Glenn is having the same horrible 'what if' thoughts that I am. We'd been lucky, more than anything. Lucky and I'd been somewhat intuitive. Daryl would laugh at that image.

I shake it off, asking how far we were away now. We'd misjudged that and looked at the map too late, dinner time was far more likely than lunch. Glenn shrugs, tapping an unfamiliar rhythm on the wheel, “Can we listen to something? I'm going stir crazy.”

“What? Yeah, sure, replay your one from yesterday, I liked that.” He shuffles, breaking slightly as we go around a sharp turn. He winces and I huff, “Glenn stop the car, I'm driving before you do anything worse to your ankle.”

“It's just sprained, I'm fine.”

“Not if you keep hurting it more, you'll end up on crutches or something. Come on, couple more hours home right?”

“Yeah, and you can barely move your left arm.” He's slowing the car even as he argues.

“Good thing I got two then, aint it? Come on.” We swap places, and as we approach the prison he dozes off, only waking when I go over a particularly deep pot hole. He's groggy, but soon chirps up when he realises how close we are, and how near he is to seeing Maggie.

“More walkers.” That seems to drop his mood, we can see the fences now, hear the dead that are slowly increasing in numbers. They can smell us, we're making noise with so many people especially since what was left of Woodbury joined us. “They'll have to increase the gate duty.” I yawn, exhausted although it's not even mid-afternoon yet, “And they need to spread out,” Glenn isn't listening but it's a gripe I'd mentioned to Daryl several times, “I get they're scared but them all standing so close to each other just makes the walkers bunch up, they'll knock the fence over one day.”

I get an uninterested yeah in response, his eyes scanning eagerly for his wife as the furthest set of doors start to open. The heavy metal squeals. I stop in between the two sets, waiting as the first close behind us. “You're late.” A deep voice greets, and I tug the hoodie up over my shoulders, covering the deep purple staining my skin. “It's worth it though.” Glenn assures him, although he can't hide his limp.

“What'ya done to your ankle?”

“Caught it funny. Nothing big.” He lies quickly, still searching around. I roll my eyes at him and Tyreese, “She'll be done here in a couple of minutes, no doubt someone's already telling her you're back.” He fiddles with his hat, “She was worried you know. Not happy you weren't back when you said.”

“I'll take the blame for that.” I say quickly, sparing Glenn. “I fell down a flight of stairs, banged myself up. Real smart moment.” Tyreese hums, but Glenn looks appreciative. I won't be able to hide my hands or shoulder in the same way as him with his limp. If he wants to lie it should sound somewhat believable. I spot Maggie in the distance, Beth beside her. “I'll move the car up.” I say, although Glenn's not really listening, that smile reserved primarily for her appearing. I feel a flare of irritation but swallow it. “How 'bout I drive and you tell me what's really happened.” Tyreese offers lowly.

“Dunno what you mean.”

“Sure you don't. Let's get you up to the doctor.”

Caleb sighs at my shoulder, makes some comment about how in an ideal world a variation of cold and hot compresses would have lessened the swelling but admits there's little he can do. He doesn't think anything is broken, my collar bone, as he prods so gently, seems intact. Muscle damage, deep tissue bruising he settles on, and tells me to avoid using it as much as possible. I turn down his offer of a sling, instead turning his focus towards my hands which leads for a very uncomfortable twenty minutes as he plucks shards of wood from close to my knuckle. He doesn't ask what went wrong, but thanks us when I tell him we had a good haul of medication. Finally I'm sent to go shower, carefully, and feel much more human when I'm clean.

I want some time alone, to try and pull myself away from the fear of the moment but that isn't a liberty you get there, and before I make it to my room for a nap I'm stopped by Beth, a very suspicious Maggie who has sent Glenn off to get his ankle checked and Carl. Doing his best to be sympathetic but really just caring if we found any of the comic books on his list.

It's evening when I make it to my cell, and I untie the curtain, letting it swing across the bars and form a weak wall. I have a little dinner in my stomach, courtesy of an extremely pushy Hershel but I feel sick, and lay down on my bed, not paying enough attention to how I lie and swearing loudly at the shocking pain that travels up my arm. I'm dozing, staring at the line of books I can barely read when there's a clang against the bars and instinct strikes. Sending me shooting upright and coming far too close to bumping my head. “Lily?” I recognise the drawl, adjust my top and tell him to come in. “Thought you were out hunting?” I cut over him, shuffling delicately and allowing him to sit beside me. “Heard it went bad.”

“Oh yeah, who'd tell you that?”

“Glenn's limping as bad as Hershel.” He flashes me one of those rare smiles, “An' Tyreese said how bad your shoulder is, you bust it?”

“Nah, Caleb thinks it's really badly bruised.”

“Maybe.” He reaches out carefully, as if giving me a chance to flinch away. I don't and he carefully clasps my wrist and moves my arm back and forth, watching my expression carefully. “Seems alright.”

“Alright Doctor Daryl.” I tease, letting it lay limp in my lap again. He bits his lip and fidgets. Daryl is not good at one to one conversations, even after all this time. “So, hunting then? You not go? Wasn't expecting you to be around.”

He shakes his head, “Was gunna save it for a couple of days, we got enough...and I knew you wanted to come.” This does surprise me and I know my face shows it, I'd pestered Daryl countless times to properly let me go out with him. He'd even let me practise on his crossbow but had always ruled that I would mess it up, not be quiet enough. “Yeah, whatever.”

“I'm serious. Was gunna let you have try-outs.”

“Well,” I shrug and hiss, “Think I'm out of commission for a bit.” He nods, tapping fingers on ripped jeans, “Thank you though...for offering.”

“S'alright.” He won't look at me now, embarrassed by the hint of emotion. We sit in silence for a moment, “So, seeing as you can't lie for shit, you wanna let me know how your run really went?” I huff, “Ya don't have to. Glenn will have blabbed before tomorrow anyway.”

“What? Well...yeah, Maggie will know already.”

“Duh.” I laugh at him, assuring him it was all going fine until yesterday. I give him the short version, the main points. He looks impressed, and I allow myself to feel a flush of pride at that. He manages to ruin that, “Good thing you're so short then, ain't it?”

“Prhh,” I exhale sharply, “You can go if you're gunna be rude. I'm tired.”

“You look it.”

"Thanks.” He pats the top of my hand, as affectionate as he gets but leaves as I ask. I lay back, more carefully now and even with the drifting noise from the cell block, from outside I fall asleep. It's not settled, there are hints of dreams, nightmares even, and I wake several times.

Just after four am I find myself wide awake. I can't work out why for a moment, although I'm covered in a sweat I know isn't from the heat. There's a noise, it's low but I catch on to it, Judith, whinging in her cot. Rick's cell is two down from my own, with Carl in between us. She's only gurgling a little, not properly crying but I've picked up on it now, and I find myself listening out for the next whine, unable to focus on anything else.

Eventually I give up, not even slipping sneakers on as I head along the wide pathway. I hover outside the cell for a moment, I hadn't seen Rick since I'd gotten back, although I hadn't realised that fact annoyed me until it hit me hard. What a dick. I don't know what I should be expecting considering how things were but still, when Daryl has the social prowess to come and see you...

Judith cries now, it's not loud, but I know it will build up so I sweep the fabric aside and go in. Her eyes are wide and there's some recognition that I adore when she sees me. “Hey Judy.” I whisper, trying not to wake her father. Well, the man who passes as her father. I use my good arm to help her sit upright and she catches at my fingers, the crying clearly nothing more than a plea for attention. Rick groans, and I can hear the creak of the springs. “Jesus Lily, you trying to scare me to death?” I just grin at him, the moon is fairly bright so I can see him somewhat.

“Sorry, I could hear her, I didn't mean to wake you up.” He yawns, and joins me beside his daughter.

“She crying?”

“Nearly.” I answer, although I suppose that wasn't true until the last few seconds. “I don't think I'm gunna get back to sleep now though, so want me to take her?”

“She should be okay for a little bit.” He clears his throat and grabs his water, swallowing half of it down in one gul. “I missed you getting back.”

“Didn't even check up on me.” I reply, unable to keep a little bit of annoyance from my voice. His hand lands on top of mine, pressed against the cheap wood of the cot. “I was out sorting the snares. And I did, but you were asleep.”

“I'll let you off then.” His hand releases mine, although not for long. He starts trailing fingertips over the many plasters coating my own. “How close was it?” He speaks so lowly that even in the near silence I could pretend not to hear him. “Close enough.” I allow him that, but don't offer details, he'll know them before too long, if he doesn't already. “You need to take it easy the next couple of days.”

His touch dances up my bare arm to my swollen and blackened shoulder, “Isn't there anything else the doctor can do for this?” I shrug on my other side, “He said he could make a sling, but that's about it. He said just try not to move it for a couple days. He was gunna check up on me tomorrow...today anyway.”

“Leaving me along with the farming then.”

“You'll manage.” He mocks offense and I giggle, “Come on, we live with a farmer, Hershel will have to be your deputy for a few days.” He appears to consider this, before letting his gaze drag back to Judith who seems much more content, laying back with her eyes heavy. “Think she'll go back off now.”

“Good.” I slip my other hand back to my side, I can feel the look Rick is giving me, even if I don't meet his eyes. I should probably stop myself, I know that, but instead I let him move closer and even press up on my tiptoes so my lips can meet his. I'm up against the bunk-bed ladder within seconds, my arm carefully held to one side as his own loop around, hands travelling down my back. All too easily he removes my loose shorts, his own jeans, and swallows my moans as he enters me. We have the now usual realisation a few seconds later that the only protection available needs grabbing and I laugh at his uncomfortable waddle to his bag. A few weeks ago anything other than the act itself made me feel embarrassed.

I don't know why, it's only Rick.

It's only Rick now, but then, it's not the same Rick it was in Atlanta, not the same at the farm or during the long months after. This is Rick weeks after Lori, this is the Rick who in the middle of an argument about the new residents of our prison slammed his mouth against mine. I don't like overthinking it all, it makes me guilty but I allow myself to be distracted and sink back onto the mattress under him. It's little more than just sex, we both know that. But then I don't know if that's better or worse. If it's just a physical need then it's seedy, especially with his five month old daughter in the same small space.

If it's more than that, actually something, it's far too soon after Lori. It's almost an insult at their decade long marriage. But then we don't discuss any of that, and it has made little difference in the day to day running of the prison. We still disagree on the same old things, still have that easy flow of conversation.

I leave Rick's room a little while later, slipping my bottoms back on. It's light now, just about, and we'd probably left it a bit too late. I'd been reluctant to leave his bed. The afterwards was when it bordered on something even more inappropriate, when even for a few minutes it seemed like there were proper feelings there.

He's up with Judith so I slip back to my own cell, awkwardly tug some jeans and a top on. I'm only just tying the fabric disguised as curtains up when Glenn and Maggie appear. “Hey, hows your ankle?” He's still holding his weight a little awkwardly but tells me it feels a lot better. “Yeah,” Maggie says, brow lifted, “Sucks when you fall down stairs don't it?”

“Ah,” She nods at me, “How long did it take for you to blab?”

“I think it's even less time than usual.” Maggie teases, although she links their fingers and nudges his side. “Yeah, yeah,” He shakes her off, his cheeks slightly pink. “We're not here to ask about....that.... we er... well, I came to see you and I...”

“What's happin' with you and Rick?” Maggie cuts over him, her voice raised just a little too high.