Chapter Text
In a thought he wouldn't verbalize to anyone, Rick was glad that Merle was around to deal with Randall. He was a man very aware of his own flaws, and one of them was being merciful and ponderous when he should be swift and severe.
He knew the second they brought Randall back and saw the look on Shane's face that he made a bad call. Rick also knew that he couldn't do anything about it, he was stuck with his split second decision for compassion. Shane and Merle never got along, but they agreed on this; they wouldn't stand to have a threat living right next to the farm, their home, Merle's son, or Lori's baby.
It took everything Rick had, every negotiation tactic he had ever learned, and both Dale and Hershel arguing in favor for them to agree with Rick's plan to leave Randall off in the wilderness. No one was happy with letting the boy go; half saying they were condemning him to death and the other half arguing they were bringing war to their front yard. Around him, he saw the effects of the debate: Carol had a white knuckled grip on Sophia's hand; Lori had one hand on her stomach and the other crossed in front of Carl, cradling him to her side; Merle stalked back and forth in front of Bo and Daryl with hardly controlled rage simmering beneath his skin.
The group finally agreed, or at least stopped arguing, and Rick took his best friend to leave a kid alone in the apocalypse. At least if Shane was with him he couldn't cause trouble at the farm. They drove and drove and they stopped at the school only to get stuck fighting off walkers. In the end, all they had to show for it was a wasted tank of gas and still no solution for their Randall problem.
Until Merle found out they brought him back alive.
Right as Shane was dragging the boy out of the trunk, there was the crack of a hunting rifle. Shane dropped Randall, spun around, and put Merle square in his sights, the redneck casually dropping the muzzle of his .243. By the time Rick reached their captive, Randall was limp and had a slowly growing puddle under his chest, shot once clean through the heart.
Rick pretended to discipline him and Merle pretended to take him seriously, at least he really was sorry they didn't get any information out of him, but Rick knew it was just pantomime. The problem was gone and Rick's hands were clean and they both knew it was what needed to be done.
After some arguing from Dale, they decided to bury Randall. Hershel said a few words, but no one else cared enough to speak.
The day after Randall died passed quietly. The only problems Rick could think of were Shane and the coming winter. Without anything to pick a fight over, his former best friend retreated to lick his wounds and spend more time with Andrea and less sulking around Lori and Carl.
Rick and his family used the sudden down time to explore with Sophia, Carol, Bo, Daryl, Merle, Maggie, and Glenn. Maggie showed them her favorite parts of the property while the Dixons pointed out oak trees, useful if they planned on tanning hides for rawhide or, eventually, leather.
When they returned, Rick found Hershel at Beth's bedside. "Ma'am," Rick gave Beth his patented southern charm and was pleased when she smiled back, even if he had to ignore the bandage around her wrist. "I just need to borrow your daddy for a minute."
In the hall, Rick had his pitch ready, the weather getting cooler and safety in numbers, but Hershel beat him to it. "Rick," he started, "I've been thinking it over. With the swamp hardening and the creek drying up, it's only a matter of time before more of them end up wandering onto the property. With seventeen people in the house, it'll be a tight squeeze, but it's our only option."
"Oh, thank God," he didn't really mean to say it out loud, but Rick's whole body sagged in relief. "We'll make it work, whatever we have to do. We all slept in the RV there for a while so anything you'll give us will be perfect."
The kids had fun setting up their sleeping area in the living room on a mattress they had pulled from one of the outbuildings, forcing their parents to settle around them. Seeing the way their faces lit up at the chance of a sleep over prevented anyone from complaining too much. Rick and Lori went to settle on the sofa, but Hershel politely kicked them out of the living room and up to his own bedroom.
"But I wanna sleep down here with Sophia and Bo!" Carl was adamantly against splitting from the other kids.
"Your mama's pregnant, dumbass," Bo gently swatted at the back of Carl's head. The two boys were piling up extra blankets and pillows onto the mattress and letting Sophia arrange them into a little nest, putting her favorite books, Carl's hat, and Bo's sheathed knife in the center.
"Be nice," Sophia chastised, scolding Bo. He just stuck his tongue out at her.
Rick made eye contact with Daryl and the hunter cut his eyes to the boys then gave him a small nod. Rick used to only be able to do that with Shane, but he tried not to dwell on it. "Maybe," he put his hand on Lori's shoulder, "we could let Carl sleep down here and we get the room to ourselves? I'm sure Carol and Daryl will keep him out of trouble."
Lori looked like she would rather walk barefoot through the cow field, but Carl's face cracked into the biggest grin they'd seen since he was shot. "Alright," Lori caved with an indulgent smile, "but if I hear one complaint from Carol you're sleeping with us, mister."
The kids whooped excitedly and Carl tackled Bo in what was half a hug and half a wrestling challenge. The boys tousled and laughed, ignoring how Sophia primly moved her belongings out of the line of fire. When they rolled a little too close to where Merle was setting up his sleeping bag, the man just plucked Bo up by his arm and lightly tossed him back onto the mattress. Carl took his chance and pounced, pinning Bo.
At the end of the world, what looked like regular rough-housing was suddenly combat training. Rick saw the way Carl was looking for openings and the way Bo was subtly correcting him, jabbing through his weak guard with taps to his stomach or ribs.
When it looked like Bo was winning, having swept Carl's legs out from under him, Sophia waded into the fray to defend Carl. The two were less scrappy than Bo, but they used their numbers to their advantage and mounted an impressive counter attack of coordinated tickling.
"Daddy!" Bo shrieked, laughing, "Help!"
For a split second, Merle looked like he forgot the kids were playing. Rick assumed he himself had the same face on when Carl was shot, but Merle shook himself out of it and laughed, sounding only a little strained. "Nah, little man, you started it!"
"Uncle Daryl! Help me!" Bo was breathlessly laughing and struggling against Carl's grip on him, causing the others to just giggle.
Rick heard the parental exasperation in Daryl's sigh, but the hunter still stood and looped his arms around Sophia's waist. He hoisted the girl up and then it was Sophia's turn to squeal in delight. The boys changed the rules in the way children do and teamed up to "save" Sophia.
Daryl looked hopelessly outmatched fending off two rambunctious boys while not dropping Sophia, who was just holding around Daryl's neck and seemed to enjoy her captivity.
"Alright, brats," Merle drew himself up and eyed Carl and Bo, "that's enough pickin' on my baby brother, now."
"Come at us, old man!" Bo hollered his challenge wearing the cocky grin of a boy who knew his father would never hurt him. A part of Rick was relieved to see that expression on the boy, especially after he had seen the mess someone made of Merle's back.
T-Dog, having finished bringing in the last of their stuff, apparently decided he wanted in on the game and snatched up Carl, tucking him under one massive arm like a football. "You'll never catch us alive!" he yelled, toeing over the various sleeping spaces then darting out the door.
Bo barreled after them and brought most of the adults following after him. Eventually, everyone was picking fights arbitrarily and rolling around in Hershel's front yard like a bunch of puppies. Rick, flat on his back and half squished by Shane and Carl teamed up against him, found himself having fun for the first time since they arrived at the farm.
Lori, Dale, Hershel, Patricia, and Beth watched the chaos from the porch with fond smiles. Rick could hear Sophia ordering Glenn to surrender from her perch on T-Dog's shoulders and Merle sounded like he was actually teaching hand-to-hand to Andrea and Maggie.
Everyone tired themselves out pretty quickly and it was starting to get dark anyway. The responsible adults herded everyone back inside where Carol had been hard at work making them dinner. Once they were finished eating, the kids settled into their nest without fuss and Sophia read aloud from one of her books; a survival story about a boy with a hatchet.
The adults cleaned up and putted around downstairs and talked quietly, listening to Sophia's voice as she slowly fell asleep. Once she had quieted, Rick volunteered to tuck them in. Sophia had been propped up by pillows and both the boys had been curled up by her legs, listening to the story until they fell asleep. When he creeped closer, Bo cracked one eye and leveled Rick with a stare that reminded him that the boy was sleeping with a knife. Thankfully, the glare was tempered by recognition and Bo relaxed again. Rick tucked the blankets around them, shifted Sophia so she was more horizontal, and gave Carl a gentle kiss on his forehead.
Everyone else settled around the dining room, talking companionably. Shane and Merle were planning another round of gun lessons while Maggie asked about combat training, either with a knife or unarmed. Shane asked around to find out everyone's experience.
"Can finish a bar fight, if that's what you're askin'," Daryl muttered, "usually the ones Merle starts." The hunter was sprawled on one of Hershel's dining room chairs, his crossbow leaning against one of the legs.
"Ol' Merle don't start fights he can't finish," Merle defended himself with a crooked smile. He settled himself leaning against the door to the living room with sights on the front door and the kids. "Might need to do somethin' 'bout this," he waved his stump, still bandaged, "but I can beat all y'all's asses with one hand, don't you worry none."
"And you can shoot fine too," Shane's drawl was, surprisingly, admirable instead of accusatory.
"Went huntin' with a broke wrist a few times, nothing much different," Merle eyed Shane, considering the cuts and bruises on the man's face.
"I think most of us are fine against the walkers," Glenn chimed in from where he was seated next to Maggie; he kept glancing at Hershel, but Maggie wouldn't let him pull away. "It's people who would be the problem."
The room went quiet.
While Rick, Hershel, and Glenn had to face off against Randall's group and Bo and Sophia against 'Boss' in the woods, fighting actual, living humans wasn't anything they wanted to become normal.
"We should focus on the walkers for now, make sure the fences hold," Rick leaned his weight on the table and made sure to make eye contact with the people he was so suddenly responsible for. "We have food here, shelter. We need to defend it first from the dead, then we can worry about the living."
"We need a plan for the non-combatants," Merle's voice was cool and serious, without a hint of the cocky amusement he normally wrapped himself in.
"We need to define who you think the non-combatants are," Maggie challenged.
Glenn jumped in, still sitting side to side with Maggie and holding her hand, "Carl, Sophia, Bo, Lori, Beth, Patricia. Bo would probably be able to help us, but with his arm…"
Rick glanced at Daryl; the hunter stared back at him defiantly. I'm not a damn kid, the look said and, when paired with a meaningful nod to Merle's stump, evolved into, make him do it.
"So a buddy system?" Glenn accidentally interrupted their silent conversation. "We assign one of our fighters to the kids to either help them hide and defend them or get them out to safety?"
Another hard stare at Daryl and he finally sighed in defeat. "I'll cover the damn kids," he grumbled, mouth mostly obstructed by his thumbnail.
"One person for four kids? Seems steep," Dale looked worried from where he was seated next to Andrea.
"Not if it's just the three of 'em. If you find one'a our kids, you'll find the other two," Merle pointed out. Rick blinked at his words, our kids he said.
"I'll help Daryl," Carol's voice was startlingly strong in the still of the night. "No one is going to separate me from my baby again."
"That covers our kids," Shane spoke up from the other side of Andrea. Rick's best friend leaned back, slouched in the chair with his legs kicked out and looked like he did in detention all those years ago. "What about Lori? Beth, Patricia? Hell, even Jimmy?"
"Hey!" Jimmy squawked from beside Beth, young and indignant.
"You," Rick countered, staring into Shane's eyes in half challenge and half olive branch. For his faults, Shane would put Lori's safety, and that of the baby's above all else. "You cover Lori and I lead the offense."
Shane stared back at him for a long moment. Rick saw his rage, his pride, and his jealousy plain on his face, but he also saw his love and honor in equal measure. I'll protect them, Shane's face said.
Rick decided with a nod and felt Lori's resolve in her firm grip on his hand. "Now for Patricia and Beth," he glanced at Glenn and the way he was pressed up beside Maggie. "Glenn and Jimmy, you'll be responsible for those two."
"That leaves you with me, Merle, Theodore, Hershel, Andrea, and Maggie," Dale pointed to each as he went around the room, "to fight whatever threat there is."
"And if we have to abandon ship?" Andrea asked, her Devil's advocate-lawyer voice in full effect.
Hershel flinched like he had been slapped. "My family has lived on this farm for a hundred and sixty years," he said with the conviction of a southern preacher, "Hell itself couldn't make me leave."
"With all due respect, sir, Hell itself is already trying," T-Dog had his chin resting on his fist and a calm expression, like he was discussing the weather.
It took some pressure, but eventually the Greenes agreed to meet at the highway if they had to flee the coup. Everyone agreed for gun training, hand-to-hand, and some basic wilderness survival to all start the next day. They would post a look-out starting that night and even do some dry runs and drills once they ironed out the details. They laid plans, all to start the next day.
The herd attacked that night.