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Your head was spinning, and it felt like you couldn't breathe.
Rick and a few others had gone off on a supply run -resources were whittling down and the group needed more. But of course, the one time most of the weapons are gone is when a group decided to swarm. It wasn't exactly like you were empty-handed, but without some of your best shooters... you were almost desolate.
You held onto Carl like it was the last thing you'd ever do, squeezing his shirt so tight in your fingers the fabric was morphing into a shape. In a distant part of your mind, you knew you were muttering to him -promises that everything would be fine, that they'd be back before he even knew it.
And then, one of the men turned to you.
"So," he spoke, waltzing up a slow pace towards the two of you, "-you're the sweetheart, huh?"
You stiffened, hesitating wrapping your fingers around Carl -you could probably just push him away... keep him safe. At the thought, Carl stood against you tighter -protective even, but you wouldn't let him do anything stupid.
"Quite a beaut," the man spoke, trailing the tip of his gun to under your chin and tilting up your face to match his, "-aren't ya?"
"Look," you spoke, voice steady and calm (you'd been through much much worse), "-just leave him alone and I'll-"
"What?" He pushed, tone drenched in frustration, pushing the tip of the gun into your neck, "Do whatever I say? Surprisingly, I think we've got that covered."
The distant sound of gunshots echoed then, it was far from you -he had singled you two out. (Someone had luckily hidden with Judith, Carol had subtly told you before they separated you.)
You froze, trying to see by some grace if you could hear anything -was it your people? Or was it them? Were they dying? That was until you saw the look on the unnamed man's face.
His face was twisted in confusion, spun to meet the sounds -he was not aware of those shots. You could tell, and a tiny part of you hoped for Rick to have returned early.
He cleared his throat, turning towards the two of you -Carl still attached at your hip, "Leave the kid, you, come with me."
"That's not happening," you gritted through your teeth, hand tightening on Carl.
You couldn't protect him if he wasn't by you, you hadn't known what they wanted to do or why they were even here. Carl was not safe with you, but he was even less safe when he was alone. You wouldn't let him leave your side. You couldn't.
"Heroic, really," he tsked, seeming to regain his confidence -dragging the gun along your jaw to your temple, "-but I don't think I gave you a choice."
And then, there was movement behind him. You couldn't properly see what or who it was, but Carl -who was held tightly by your side, loosened. Relaxed, even.
That was... good. Maybe it was someone you knew.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The low drawl was gravelly, a tone he'd only found in anger -Rick. Even just his voice helped your breaths calm, the cool metal stark against your skin. You still stood as still as a statue, you'd give him no reason to shoot -no sudden movements.
"Well, look here-" the man exhaled, "-if it ain't the man of the hour."
"I don't think you heard me," Rick echoed and you could barely see him, but you saw a shadow of the movement -the click of a gun.
On instinct, your breath hitched -heavy in your chest, you realized then that you hadn't wanted to die. It was a terrifying thought, then, as the metal dipped into your skin; it was surely something to realize then.
"Frankly, I don't think you have the power here, Rick," the man spoke, not moving the gun from your skin and adjusting you to face Rick and Carl now, who had thankfully been ushered to his side.
You were looking at him now, eyes placed so delicately on his form and there was a steely gaze there -matched only by the man who held you in place. His jaw, covered in the beard he'd so recently grown, was set, pinched in the way it always was when he was in a situation he didn't want to be in. His jacket, once pristine, was now stained on the white with an ominous red, and part of you, without thinking, scanned him over at the mere thought that the blood might be his.
Rick's gaze flicked to you, just for a few seconds -looking for injuries, maybe, just like you were. There was a softness as he did so, the blue gaze affectionate and careful -they stuttered at your scraped forearms, jaw clenched and eyes determined. It didn't seem too bad, just stung against the cool breeze of the night -you doubted it was even bleeding.
"Oh, I'm sorry-" he began in response, tone aggressive in a demanding sort of way, "-did you call those gunshots earlier? Was that part of your master plan?"
The man quietened, and you could only imagine his face. Rick was angry, and in some twisted way, you were delighted he was this angry over you.
"Because, if I'm remembering correctly," he was stepping closer now, slow steady steps -his tone light, but there was something heavy there, something furious, "-that was my call."
The man was silent for a second, and you felt the coolness of the metal falter -he readjusted it, pushing farther into your skin. You hissed at the pressure, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rick still at the noise.
His eyes gleamed, flickering over you -trying to convey something to you (a safety) and then straying to your neck.
"You wouldn't," the man finally spoke, but there was no nerve behind it -he was scared. And as your eyes fluttered upon Rick, who looked just a bit like a man with nothing to lose, you wondered if you would be too.
He didn't give him the dignity of a response, trailing on, "I mean, don't you think they woulda come to you by now?"
That was when the man moved, faltering against you -he was shaking, and you could feel it. The cool metal was no longer directly against your skin but distant, the deep breaths now heavy in your ear -he was panicking.
"Look, you-" he straightened, trying to gain some sense of control then and pointedly looking at Rick, "-you let me go. Nothing happens to 'em."
He remained calm, or still, you guessed you should say, there was nothing behind those eyes that was calm. They were a heavy sort of gaze, intense and direct -if looks could kill, this man would be on his knees.
"What did ya say earlier?" he hummed, stepping even closer now, the crunch of the grass under his boots the only noise other than the heave of breaths. Rick was agonizing, steps deliberate, and the tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate you.
And then he was a breath away from the man, pistol up and located square in his forehead, "Frankly, I don't think you have the power here."
Maybe if it was another day or another person, Rick would've hesitated.
On this day with you there, he didn't.
It was quick, at least, your ear ringing and the side of your face covered in a sort of sludge you really didn't want to think about. And Rick was unflinching, at the blood that now smeared across his face -eyes set in a sort of stare that you'd recognized maybe once before.
Carl was the first to move, rushing to you, "You okay?"
You coughed, the adrenaline leaving a sort of dizziness in its wake and your stomach swirling with a kind of dread at what had happened mere feet from you, "I'm fine, I-I swear. Just a little shaken up."
Rick was close behind, without much thought ripping the hems of his shirt off -wordlessly, before taking his hands (that had just killed a man) and so delicately wrapping the cloth around your forearms. Bloodstained fingers pushing gently into your skin like you could break like you were something so precious.
"You don't need to-"
His eyes leveled at you, usually so fuzzily affectionate, now a sort of steely gaze -unmoving and intense. There was something there you hadn't seen from him before, protective to an extent you'd never seen. It wasn't like when he shoved you behind him when a gun was pulled, this was more instinctive.
"Carl, go get some water-" he was condensed in his speech, tone gruff but not necessarily rude -it was more direct in a brash way.
You remained still, watching simply as his hands circled around the scrapes -eyes focused on the motion, he hardly seemed to notice your gaze. It was a curious one, after such a clash in your head -how could he still be so gentle, after-
Carl was quick, a little canteen he kept on his hip filled with, what you assumed, was river water. The camp had been too far for anything else -especially with the speed unless it had been longer than you thought. The bandaging was methodical and with your head in such a state, you wouldn't be surprised.
Without so much as a word, Rick tugged another scrap shoved away in a pocket and wet it, "Thank you. You go check on the others for me?"
Carl hesitated for no more than a second, before heading back the way he'd just come.
Something in you flipped at the idea of you and Rick alone here suddenly -not quite unsettled or scared. It was more anticipation, as the air fizzled with a sort of spark you hadn't thought possible in the apocalypse. Or maybe ever.
Rick was unfazed, raising the makeshift rag to wipe your cheek -his calloused fingertips leaving a sort of trail across your skin. And your head still stayed in that sort of fuzzy spin that it was, a bit more affectionate than the one before. The metallic and somehow woodsy smell grounded you back to where you were, you leaned into his touch -just slightly.
"There ya are, sweetheart," he whispered, smiling in a small sort of way -fingertips trailing over your eyebrow, "-with me now?"
You only nodded, a bit too speechless at a touch so tender after something so... violent.
"Words," he clarified, blue eyes set into yours.
"Yes," you spoke, your throat scratchy and eyes dry, "-yes, I'm here."
Before he could say anything, you gently took the rag from his hand -rewetting it with the ease of a sip from the canteen. Your hand gently brushed across his face -wiping off the blood with the gentlest of movements. It felt far too intimate than it should've been.
Rick was silent, blue eyes in a steady haze across your face -surfing across your features in a sort of pleasant buzz. In the teeniest of moments, he leaned into your palm. His warm skin against your own sent something to your toes then, but you had a job to do.
When you finished, sweeping the rag across his nose with a swift motion -he took the rag, stashing it. In a sort of instinct, his hands went up to cup your face -determination settling somewhere deep in his eyes and a sort of worry in the furrow of his eyebrows.
"This will never happen again," he spoke -sounding somehow like a demand and a promise all at once, "-'kay?"
"And if it does?"
His eyes returned to the steely gaze -far away and distant from where you stood, and the heaviness there was enough to make your heart skip a beat. In fear? You couldn't tell.
Rick didn't stutter then, voice steady and with an unshakeable certainty -like you had asked if the sky was blue. His eyes shadowed in a sort of shade that spoke for itself.
"I think you know."