[ v. the babysitter ]

october 10th, 2010

➸➸➸

THE GREENE FAMILY FARMHOUSE seemed a lot quieter when it was missing several of its usual occupants. Shane and Otis had left in search of the high school, Maggie had taken off on horseback to find Lori, and that had left Greyson, Rick, and the remaining farmhouse survivors scattered around the property, trying to make ends meet with the chaos going on around them.

Thankfully, the relative noise of the chaotic afternoon had quieted down and everything was now resting in idle calm. Hershel was currently in the back bedroom with Carl, monitoring the sleeping boy's status whilst Greyson and Rick sat on the front porch steps, breathing in the fresh breeze when the air inside the house had grown too stifling.

The sun was beginning to set over the mountains, basking the farmland in shading tones of red, yellow and orange. It was a peaceful sight; the calming skies and the endless fields that were very noticeably empty of walkers. The place was a safe haven. It was as if the world had not fallen apart around this piece of farmland, like the apocalypse no longer existed in this tiny corner of the globe.

Greyson exhaled a quiet breath, allowing gaze to wander. His muddy knees were tucked up to his chest, his arms resting atop of them where he could just barely begin to see blood spotting through the gauze on his battered arm. At some point during the early evening, Patricia had given Greyson some painkillers, but they were wearing off fast.

Soon glancing over at Rick, Greyson could see beads of sweat dripping down the side of his pale, exhausted face. His hands were still a pinkish color due to his son's blood and Greyson swallowed tightly. He could see in the sadness surging in his leader's drowning eyes.

"I know what you're going through," Greyson dared to murmur, the words barely escaping his cracked lips.

Rick Grimes looked sharply over at Greyson, his blue eyes meeting the younger boy's gray ones, and he frowned. "You've watched your son fight for his life on his own while you couldn't do a damn thing about it?"

Greyson flinched at the hostility of Rick's voice, but otherwise did not back down. He had opted to pull the thread, there was no going back from that now. "Not a son," Greyson admitted, keeping his eyes peeled on the broken man beside him. "but a sister."

Now, under any other normal certain circumstances the discussion of Greyson's deceased sister was usually the conversation ender, but these were no longer certain circumstances. In times like these, one might as well learn everything they can about someone else, so that strangers can sympathize with each other, become a family for each other. And, in a cruel and selfish way, to distract oneself from their own pain, too.

So, instead of saying the simple, expected words, 'I'm sorry', Rick Grimes merely said, "How?"

Greyson picked at some dry dirt on his arm, scraping it away with his jagged fingernail. "I was sixteen," He began quietly. "And my little sister, Lucy, had a late soccer practice and I was supposed to go pick her up. I did, of course—I wasn't that terrible of a brother." Greyson let out a sigh, the images of that fateful night slowly crawling up from the depths of his haunted memory. "Anyways, it was raining. I was still new to driving. I was a bit cocky. And I paid for it."

"The rain was coming down so hard, I could barely see three feet in front of me," Greyson continued. "I sure as hell couldn't see the stop sign, but I did see the semi-truck when it came barreling at us in the middle of the intersection. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in the back of an ambulance to my sister's crying. And there . . . there was so much blood . . . On her chest, on her head, her arms and legs . . . and all I could do was hold her hand. I can't remember if I said anything to her. All I can see anymore is her face. She was so scared."

"Grey . . ." Rick tried unevenly.

"She died before we got to the hospital." Greyson could no longer be stopped, his mind and soul trapped in a world he could never truly escape. "I should've followed right after her but I guess the world had other plans for me. The world wanted me to live with what I'd done. I had to live knowing that it was my fault my sister was dead. She was only twelve." Greyson then abruptly turned towards Rick, his expression fearful and pleading, all at once. "I don't think I can take another loss, Rick. Not another kid." Feeling his eyes grow glassy with tears, Greyson frantically blinked them away and cleared his throat, hoping to swallow his pain once more. He had long since grown used to the taste of swallowing knives. "Jesus Christ . . . Shane and Otis need to get back soon . . ."

Rick merely reached forward, his hand gripping Greyson's trembling shoulder and squeezing it tight. Greyson looked up at him, biting his lip to prevent a quivering sob from escaping. He did not like to talk about Lucy Hunt, but someone—anyone—needed to know. That someone to Greyson was Rick; the only person who could even come close to understanding what he had gone through all those years ago. What he was still going through now.

"They'll come," Rick finally reassured.

"Yeah . . ." Greyson pursed his lips, looking out towards the dying sun as his mind began to wander once more to the world that had once existed beyond these plains of death. "I just hope Jessie is okay," He murmured absentmindedly.

"Jessie?"

"My older sister," Greyson carelessly explained. "She's up in Virginia with my parents. At least, I hope she is. If not, she's got her husband and two boys to take care of her."

"How old?" Rick could not help but ask, given that he now already knew the ages of the two younger Hunt siblings.

"Thirty-three," Greyson answered with a dry laugh. "She's way older than Lu and I. She was my parents' teenage pregnancy baby."

Rick chuckled, but the sound was still so lifeless. "Lori and I were young when we found out we were expecting Carl, too," He admitted. "But Carl was the best thing that's ever happened to us. Ain't one day where I'm not thankful for my son."

Greyson smiled lightly, knowing that there was nothing more important to Rick than his family. Sometimes Greyson wished that he had a family to endlessly protect and provide for, but he had long since given up that pipe dream. There was no way that he was going to get a family of his own making anymore. The world had ended, and so had his chances of getting a wife, a family, or even a dog. All that Greyson had now was his rifle and his best friend in the whole world, Glenn Rhee. That was his family.

Off in the distance, Greyson began to hear the very distinct sound of pounding horse hooves and he eagerly looked up and into the surrounding fields to see Maggie Greene making her way safely back towards the farmhouse with a familiar long-haired brunette sitting right behind her in the saddle.

Rick's breath caught in his throat and he instantly tensed, rising slowly to his feet with Greyson close at his side. Greyson remained on the porch, watching as Rick approached the horse as it came into the yard. Lori Grimes abruptly flung herself off the animal, tears already spilling from her cheeks as she began to sob at her husband's broken expression. Rick threw his arms around his wife, holding her close when she seemed on the verge of collapsing.

Without a word, the married couple joined hands and moved into the house, leaving Maggie and Greyson alone in the yard to watch in their wake. Greyson could feel his chest constricting with nerves as he looked up to the woman on the horse. "The others are all right?" He asked in concern.

Maggie nodded, steadying herself. "They were almost to the highway," She informed. "I gave them directions to the house."

"Did you see a little girl with them?" Greyson prodded. "Blonde hair?"

Her face fell, and that was answer enough. "I'm sorry," She murmured. With a shake of her head, she jerked on the reins and began guiding the horse towards the stables, leaving Greyson alone once more.

Sighing with discontent, Greyson turned back towards the farmhouse and walked inside, his tired and sore body instinctively moving towards the back bedroom. Before he could fully step over the threshold, the young man froze in the doorway, watching the sad scene of a hurting family unfold in front of him.

Lori Grimes was curled up on the bed against Carl, her hand running softly through her son's hair. Meanwhile, Rick hovered above them at a loss for words. After a moment, with her other hand, Lori grabbed his arm and pulled him down to her. Together they held each other as they mourned their dying son.

Giving them their deserved privacy, Greyson quietly retreated back into the dining room, and sat back down in the same seat that he had been sitting in when his injured arm had been stitched back up. Maggie returned after a short while, her eyes never leaving Greyson's as she walked past. Then, she abruptly stopped.

"Greyson?" She called.

"Call me Grey," The boy replied, his tired gaze still locked on the tabletop.

Maggie took a breath. "Grey," She corrected.

"What?"

"Would you like something to eat?"

At that, Greyson instantly perked his head up, his growling stomach answering Maggie's question before he truly could himself. "Please," He murmured gratefully.

Maggie flashed Greyson a small, playful smile, a chuckle escaping her lips as she slipped back into the kitchen to conjure up a meal of sorts. Meanwhile, still lost in the quiet of his own mind, Greyson could vaguely hear the small whispers of a conversation in the living room shared between Rick, Lori, and Hershel.

From what Greyson could gather, it was clear that Rick was growing weaker with each blood transfusion and as the night went on, the worry for Otis and Shane's arrival also grew. Carl's blood pressure was only continuing to drop the longer they put off the procedure. The Grimes family could not wait much longer before they would finally be forced to make a crucial and fateful decision regarding the future of their family as three.

"Then I'm going go."

The declaration came from a staggering, weakened Rick and Greyson immediately rose to his feet in protest, completely forgetting about the promised meal from Maggie that awaited in the other room. Regardless of impending interruption, Greyson stepped steadfast into the hallway and Lori's eyes sharply fell upon him as if she were noticing finally noticing him for the first time. Giving him a brief nod of acknowledgement, she then turned back to her husband with a worried expression.

"Go?" Lori demanded of her husband. "Go where?"

"He said the school was five miles," Rick said. "They should be long back by now. Something's gone wrong."

"Are you insane?" His wife demanded. "You're not going after them."

"Lori's right, Rick," Hershel agreed. "Listen to your wife. You've given too much blood, you're barely on your feet. Even if they're in trouble, you're in no condition to do anything about it."

"But I can," Greyson volunteered, all eyes flickering towards him once more. "Give me a car and a map, I'll go find 'em."

"You're not going out anywhere alone in the dark," Rick protested.

"Then why do you think you can, huh?" Greyson countered. "I'm not a kid, Rick. I can go get them. Carl needs the supplies."

Lori pursed her lips. "I don't know how I feel about this," She murmured. "Greyson, we can't ask you to risk your life like this."

"You're not asking, I'm volunteering."

"This isn't your fight, Grey," Rick argued. "We appreciate what you're trying to do, but I can't let you go. Shane is my friend. I have to go."

"No! You're place is here!" Lori protested. "Neither of you are going anywhere. If Shane said he'll be back, he'll be back."

"I can't just sit here!"

"That's exactly what you do!" She snapped back. "If you need to pray or cry or tell God he's cruel, you go right ahead, but you're not leaving, Rick. Carl needs you—here." Lori's voice dropped suddenly. "And I can't do this by myself," She whimpered. "Not this one . . . I can't . . ."

Defeated by his morals, Rick finally complied to the chains of this farmhouse and the husband and wife quietly disappeared back into Carl's room to monitor him. Meanwhile, Greyson was now standing alone in the living room, seemingly left to his own destruction. And surely that was what he did best. He stared at the familiar rifle by the front door, eyeing it intently. Greyson could also see a rack of keys hanging near the kitchen counter. One of those keys had to belong to a car in the driveway. It would be so simple. Rick and Lori would thank him for it later, even if they were absolutely horrified now. It was worth the risk. So, without any hesitation at all, Greyson Hunt took a small and cautious step—

"Don't even think about it."

Greyson huffed in annoyance, coming back down to his sense at the sound of Maggie's voice. With his teeth gritted in frustration, he turned to look at her and his attention fell to the two steaming plates of fresh, hot food in her hands. "You're not my babysitter," He snickered defiantly.

"I know," Maggie snipped, sticking her jaw out. "but it sure seems like you need one."

"I'm just trying to help," Greyson insisted weakly.

Maggie motioned towards the plates. "I'm tryin' to help, too," She insisted. "Besides I can hear your stomach growlin' from over here."

Rolling his eyes, Greyson begrudgingly followed Maggie back into the kitchen and lowered himself down at the empty table. She followed suit, taking a seat across from Greyson and sliding his plate over to him. Chicken, green beans, and buttered bread. The sight made Greyson's mouth water.

Greyson hastily dug in, using both his hands and the silverware as he tried to shovel every last bit of heavenly food into his mouth. Greyson ate the Greene's meal like he was expecting to never eat again, and there was always that possibility that he would not be able to. Greyson hated living with the fact that tomorrow truly was never going to be promised to him again.

Maggie was no longer eating her own meal, now rather entranced by the way Greyson devoured his own. "How long has it been since you've had a proper meal?"

Through a mouthful of food, he answered, "A while."

They then returned to eating in silence, neither in the mood for talking, and it was not a surprise that Greyson finished his dinner much quicker than Maggie. Sitting back in his chair, Greyson sighed loudly at the contentment of a full stomach and the newfound companion he had made of the brunette in front of him.

Not even a mere twenty seconds later, the silence of the entire house was interrupted by that of a car engine. Greyson immediately shot up in alarm, stumbling for the front door at the same time that Rick and Lori did. Flying out onto the porch, their faces fell at the realization that it was not the familiar blue pickup truck that Shane and Otis had left in. Rather it was Carol's yellow Cherokee, but oddly enough neither of the occupants inside the vehicle were her. Instead it was T-Dog and Glenn.

Rick and Lori dishearteningly returned back into the house without a word, but Maggie and Greyson opted to remain on the porch. Then, when his quiet relief got the better of himself, Greyson abruptly shot towards Glenn, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Glenn's own arms tightened around Greyson, but then the Korean pulled back at the sight of the dried blood on the blonde's shirt and jeans. Just as quickly, Glenn's gaze then fell to Greyson's bloodied, bandaged arm. "What the hell happened to you?" He questioned in alarm.

Greyson grimaced. "Been busy," He informed.

"Looks like it," Glenn commented dryly.

"Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?"

The interrupting question came from none other than Maggie who still remained on the porch, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she eyed Greyson's two friends closely. Glenn stared back up at her, his eyes seeming to brighten at the sight of such a beautiful young woman when they were believed to have been wiped out in the midst of a global extinction event.

"Uh, hi," Glenn greeted awkwardly, raising a hand up in a wave. "Y-Yes, we closed it. Did the latch and everything." Maggie's lips seemed to curl up in a smirk at Glenn's natural nervous behavior. "It's nice to see you again," He added.

Greyson suddenly frowned, eyeing their brief interactions with a caution that he was not aware he was capable of. He did not know what it was about the way that Glenn was currently staring at Maggie, but it made something stir within his twisted and full stomach. From the moment he met her, Greyson wanted to be the only one who Maggie would let look at her that way. Hell, he was already looking at Maggie that way. He saw her first, he had befriended her first. They had a connection. He could feel it long before he could sense any parallel between her and Glenn.

"Look, we came to help," T-Dog said, ripping the blonde boy from his puzzled thoughts. "There anythin' we can do?"

Greyson soon looked at the older man, his eyes doing a double-take at the sight of his sickly appearance. T-Dog was very pale, sweat dripping off of him in buckets and Greyson could practically feel the heat of a growing fever wafting off of him. Beneath the blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders, Greyson could see the bloody bandage on his arm that was currently being held together by duct tape.

Maggie swallowed stiffly as her eyes locked on the gruesome sight, immediately expecting the worse from such an injury, but Greyson quickly raised a hand to calm her. "It's not a bite," He reassured. "He cut himself earlier. It's pretty bad."

At the clarification, Maggie visibly relaxed. "We'll have it looked at," She informed politely. "Come on in. I'll tell the others that you're here and get you all something to eat."

Glenn gasped. "Actual food?" He murmured.

Greyson chuckled at his friend's innocent reaction, forgetting entirely of his irritable feelings from only moments prior. As the two boys began to follow Maggie inside, Greyson swung an arm around Glenn's shoulder, tugging him close. "Come on," Greyson beckoned to his best friend.

"I've got a lot to tell you."

~~~~~~~~~~

edited.