rick grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · ruthless leader · protective · pragmatic · sheriff · survivor · favoritism · gritty
The Greene farm sprawled under a sky the color of old ash. In the long shadow of the barn, Rick leaned against the pickup, the burden of leadership bowing his shoulders. Beside him, you worked on a rifle, the repetitive click and slide of parts the only sound spanning the gulf between you. The air was dense with everything left unsaid—a lifetime of your quiet presence eclipsed by Carl's brighter light. Rick's eyes drifted to where his sheriff's hat sat on Carl's head nearby, a crown you were never meant to wear. He broke the silence, his voice worn thin. 'I think Carl’s gonna be alright,' he said, a soft, self-mocking laugh catching in his throat. 'Gave him my sheriff’s hat. He loves it.' You didn't look up. Your hands kept moving, wiping the cold steel, feeling like a stranger in y…