The Good Life - Chapter Three

A/N: It's time to play in the snow!

...

Carl finally got what he wanted. Sledding.

There were three sleds in the shed. They retrieved them and then spent almost an hour sledding down the hills. There were also skis, something Rick hadn’t done since his college days. He thought it may be easier to ski the property when the snow was thick on the ground, to do security rounds, than to try to trudge through snow.

“There’s a couple of ski mobiles parked over there,” Sasha pointed out.

Rick hadn’t noticed them. “We may have to use those on a run,” Rick said. “May be safer than the trucks should it ever come to that.”

“Dad, come on!” Carl said, urging his father to hop on a sled with him.

The hill looked pretty steep to Rick and he wasn’t keen on zooming down the side of it but his son looked too happy to refuse. Carl had lost too much of his youth to this damned plague and the horrors of this world. Seeing him so youthful and exuberant was uplifting in ways it was hard to put words to. His son was finally getting to be a kid, after having tried to be an adult for almost three years.

“You chicken?” Daryl asked, smirking.

“Are you? I haven’t seen you get on a sled yet.”

“He’s too cool to ride a sled,” Sasha said, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah?” he asked, looping an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll go if you go.”

“Glenn, Maggie! Our turn!” Sasha called.

Rick watched Daryl trudge up the hill with her, pulling the sled behind him, and then he started to follow Carl.

“You ever seen Daryl like this before?” Carl asked him.

“Never. Didn’t know he had it in him,” said Rick. “Love changes people.”

“Like Michonne?” Carl asked.

Rick frowned at him, struggling not to slip on the snowy hillside which was beginning to get packed from their footsteps and the tracks of the sled.

“What?”

“She’s in love.”

“With who?”

“You. Us,” Carl said, shrugging.

“I don’t think that’s the case, Carl.”

Carl snorted. “Yeah, okay. Everybody sees it but you so we must all be wrong, huh?”

Rick could only stand there and stare at his son, wondering what the boy was talking about. “See what?”

“Dad, she likes you. You like her too but you don’t want to admit it. I see how you two are with each other.”

“It’s not like that. Michonne and I are friends.”

“Well, if you’re scared about me don’t be. Mom can’t come home, ever, so…no reason you gotta be alone forever, you know?”

“Race to the bottom?” Sasha asked. Apparently she and Daryl had overheard everything he and Carl had talked about and Rick was grateful she'd interrupted to keep him from having to struggle with a response.

“We’re heavier so we’ll win,” Carl said.

“Hey, I’ve got a few pounds on you yet, kid,” Sasha declared, setting the sleigh up and climbing on with Daryl in front of her.

Rick put Carl in back and they counted down before pushing off. To Carl’s frustration Daryl and Sasha beat them by a few inches.

“Okay, we can’t let that stand,” Rick said, getting up and grabbing the sled. “Best two outta three.”

“What do we get if we win?” asked Daryl.

“We’ll do your chores for the night,” Rick offered.

“We’ve got the dishes, Baby,” Sasha said, and Daryl smiled down at her.

God almighty, Rick thought. Somebody called Daryl ‘Baby’ without severe retaliation. In fact, she was rewarded for it with a light kiss to the lips. Daryl actually kissed a woman, right in front of other people. Rick shook his head. He never thought he’d see the day.

…

After another hour of sledding they all stomped home, exhausted, wet, and freezing. Because Daryl and Sasha had beaten Carl and Rick three for three they would have to wash the dinner dishes.

Rosita was cooking and the house smelled of fried fish and French fries, and cornbread. Carl grumbled to Michonne that Daryl had somehow cheated to win before he shivered.

“Go change into some dry clothes and climb under the covers,” Michonne said, affectionately tousling his hair. He seemed to enjoy that, which was something Lori had been prone to do. Rick watched it, thinking that Carl really wanted a mother and perhaps was seeing things that weren’t there, like Michonne being interested in him.

He had to admit, though, Michonne looked lovely standing at the kitchen counter with Judith on her hip, pulling her braids. He tried to envision what it would be like if they were a couple. It wasn’t hard to do. God knows he’d fantasized about bedding her often enough. The idea that she may actually be interested in such nocturnal activities with him excited Rick.

“You’re staring again,” Tara whispered as she came to stand beside him, a knowing look twinkling in her eyes. “Look what I found in an office in the basement.”

She held up a piece of paper while Rick hoped to God Michonne hadn’t overheard Tara out him for ogling her. He looked it over and saw that it was a duty shift log. He saw Nick’s name on it.

“Interesting,” he said. “Security shifts, propane tank maintenance, feeding schedules for the animals. This is basically the things we need to know to best run this place. Good work, Tara.”

“I’m going out to feed the horses now,” she said.

“You ever dealt with a horse before?” asked Michonne.

Rick swallowed. Michonne had probably overheard Tara tell him he was staring. Again. He felt his face warm as Michonne came to talk to Tara. Finally, for the first time in a couple of days, Judith didn’t cry when Michonne passed her to him.

“Hello, Sweetie,” he crooned, kissing her forehead. She lay her head on his shoulder, sneezed, and went to sleep.

“Nope. How hard can it be?” Tara said.

“Hard. You can get kicked or bitten if you don’t know what you’re doing. I haven’t gotten to see the property yet. Why don’t you show me around and I’ll show you how to handle the horses.”

“Sounds good, but you’ll need to wear something warmer than that.”

“Be careful out there,” Rick said. “Your ankle is still tender. I saw you limping.”

“I’ll be fine,” Michonne said, and headed upstairs to change into something warmer.

Rick watched her go, unable to tear his eyes away from that firm round bottom he could see moving under the baggy men’s shirt she still wore, knowing she was clad in those damn tight shorts she’d slept in the night before.

“You’re staring again,” Rosita said, flipping over a piece of fish.

He could only sigh as Abraham laughed loud and hard at his expense.



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