TWD: Awakened As Rick

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There were moments, usually just before dawn, when Lori Grimes forgot the world had ended.

She'd wake in the bunkhouse, the air still cool from the night, and for one half-second—before her brain caught up—she'd expect to hear an alarm clock. Carl thudding down the stairs for breakfast. Rick humming in the bathroom while he shaved. The scent of coffee drifting through the kitchen.

But those mornings were gone.

Now, she woke to the distant sound of gunfire from the training yard. The rattle of boots on gravel. The low murmur of strategists and scouts preparing for another day behind the walls of a world that no longer made room for comfort.

She dressed in silence, as she always did, tying back her hair and pulling on the worn jacket that had once belonged to Rick.

Rick.

Even now, with him only a few hundred feet away in the command tent, he sometimes felt further from her than when he was lying in that hospital bed.

Lori stepped out into the soft morning light. People were already at work—Jacqui and Carol at the water station, Morales moving crates with Merle cracking jokes beside him, kids rushing to their lessons under Clara's care.

Everything had a place now.

Everyone had a job.

Everyone except her.

She wandered toward the makeshift infirmary and offered to help Jacqui sort medical supplies, as she often did. It was one of the few tasks that made her feel useful—measuring doses, organizing bandages, wiping down tools.

But her mind drifted even as her hands worked.

She thought of Carl.

He was growing too fast. Just yesterday, she'd caught him checking his knife in the mirror, tilting his chin the same way Rick did before a patrol.

She wanted to tell him to stop. To slow down. To let her hold him a little longer.

But there was no space in this world for softness.

And that truth haunted her.

Later, she saw Rick returning from the north gate with Shane and T-Dog. They were deep in conversation, pointing to a new map. Carl followed a few paces behind, face grim, boots caked with dirt.

He didn't even look at her as he passed.

Her throat tightened, but she said nothing.

She hadn't said much lately.

What could she say to a son who no longer needed her?

To a husband who had become something unreadable?

She found herself walking along the inner fence, tracing her fingers across the rough wood. The scent of freshly cut timber clung to the air. The Right Arm was expanding—Rick said they'd build another wall soon, push the perimeter out. More land.

More risk.

Lori stared out past the wall. Trees. A world that once held malls and movie nights now held nothing but death.

And yet... Rick wanted to build something better. To reclaim it.

There was beauty in that.

But also danger.

Because hope, in this world, was a luxury.

And she didn't know if she believed in it anymore.

She sat alone at lunch. Carol tried to invite her to eat with the others, but Lori shook her head. She wasn't in the mood for small talk or stories about raccoons and bread thefts.

Across the field, she saw Rick again—laughing softly with Daryl, patting Carl on the shoulder, conferring with Morgan.

When did you learn to smile without me? she wondered bitterly.

And then—like a wound reopened—her thoughts turned to Shane.

Shane, who had comforted her when Rick was gone.

Shane, who had made her feel seen in those early days of the end.

Shane, who now avoided her gaze like she was fire he didn't want to touch again.

She didn't blame him.

Not entirely.

But the truth sat heavy in her gut: she had loved both of them. Differently. At different times. And now, she belonged to neither.

In the evening, she helped Clara bathe the younger children near the well. The kids laughed, splashed, reminded her for a brief moment that innocence hadn't been completely erased.

Clara smiled gently. "You're good with them."

Lori returned a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I used to teach. Long before all of this."

"You could again. Rick's been talking about a schoolhouse."

Lori looked away. "I don't think he needs me for that."

Clara frowned but didn't press.

That night, Lori wandered near the fire pit after most had gone to bed. Rick was still there, staring into the flames.

She sat across from him. They didn't speak for a while.

Finally, she said, "Carl's changing."

Rick didn't look up. "We all are."

"He's becoming you," she said.

Rick gave a quiet sigh. "That's not a bad thing."

"Maybe not," she whispered. "But I miss when he needed me."

Rick finally met her eyes. There was weariness there.

"I still need you," he said. "Just not in the same way."

Lori swallowed hard. "I don't know who I am here, Rick. You have the walls. The plans. The purpose. I just… wake up and try not to fade."

Rick leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"You're stronger than you think. And we'll find your place. Together."

She wanted to believe him.

More than anything.

But the fire between them didn't burn like it used to.

It smoldered.

And she didn't know if that was enough.

Later, as she lay in bed, she reached out toward the empty space beside her where Rick used to sleep.

The world was quiet.

But her thoughts were loud.

Who am I now?

Where do I belong in a world made of guns and maps and marching orders?

And how long before I forget the sound of my own voice?

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If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Ptreon for early access, exclusive chapters, and more:

15 Advanced Chapters on Patreon

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