Georgian Redneck

Chapter 25- Trust

So far, we've been on watch for six boring- ass hours, and have we killed eight ugly cannibalistic suckers. Jack seems to be skilled with using a knife, which kind of surprised me at first. Otherwise, the street seems to be empty and quiet. Along with the house. But six hours? C'mon. My eyelids are dropping and I feel like I'm going to faint any minute now.

I've learned a few things about him as well. Jack is 27 years old, his favourite colour is green and he's bisexual. Yeah, I wasn't expecting that either. Also what he used to do before the appocalypse and about his family. He used to work at a supermarket somewhere in LA. He's pretty chill. And I don't think he'll be a danger to the group. Although how he's so skilled with weapons is beyond me.

"You can go now." Ricks voice sounds quietly from behind me, startling me a little. Finally relieved from this watch. Don't get me wrong, I liked spending time with Jack. But sleep is still irreplaceable. I don't think I can keep my eyes open any longer, to be honest. Oh man. Just the thought of sleeping on a bed makes me smile.

"Thanks, you go ahead Jack. I need to talk to Rick." I high five Jackson as he walks past me and hands both of our guns to T-Dog. I'm glad that we didn't need them. Not that we would have used them anyway. My sleep will have to be delayed for a couple of minutes.

Jack nods and goes inside, closing the black door behind him quietly. I wonder where he'll sleep. No, not in the creepy stalkerish way. Just curious since he's new.

It's gettin pretty frigging cold out here, so the faster I get this over with the faster I'll be next to Daryl. But then again, these things can't be rushed. But whoa. Me and Daryl probably won't even be in the same room, let alone bed. What the hell am I thinking...

Rick leads us behind the cars, far enough so T-Dog can't hear or see us, but close enough to the house if trouble were to occur. He motions for me to say whatever I have to say.

"Rick, please tell me. You're not yourself. You've got so much pressure on your shoulders and I think it would be good for you to tell someone. Even me, if you want. Psychologist, remember? What I'm saying is, you need someone to vent to. Whether it's screaming and swearing or just spilling all your worries. It helps. And I know this bullshit gets annoying and shit, but it's the truth." I give him a sad but reassuring smile.

He's carrying way too much on his shoulders. The farm, Shane, Lori being pregnant and many more things probably. I know it's hard for him to tell me, anyone really, but it would help him a great deal. I didn't do it and now I wish I did. When was that? When I was like, fourteen? I don't know. I don't remember. I don't want to. And now I couldn't care less.

He sighs tiredly and runs a hand through his curly hair, looking me deep in the eyes. "Alright. But you're not gon' tell anyone... Right?" He asks cautiously, his baby blue eyes full of worry. Who would I tell anyway? It's not like I'm exactly too close to anyone in this group. Well, maybe Daryl, Glenn and Beth. But what the two of us talk about is none of their business.

"I won't. I promise." I offer a supportive smile and he just shakes his head gently. He's having seconds thoughts. I can see that.

"I'll just bother you with it. I can't do that" I glare at him and lift his chin up fith my index finger. Oh hell no. He did not just say that

"Listen to me, Rick Grimes. Do you know what bothers me? When Daryl wears the same bloodstained sweaty shirt for two goddamn weeks straight without washing it. This won't. I know that for sure. If it did, I wouldn't be a psychologist. I'm here for you Rick. You can tell me anything. Anytime. Understand?" I say firmly, making Rick look at me. His eyes light up slightly and he nods, enveloping me in a tight hug. Whoa, this is unexpected.

I take a note of how he smells. Pine cones, sweat and gunpowder. And interesting combination in my opinion.  His arms wrap around my waist and my arms go around his neck. I've not seen him hug anyone but Carl before. Not even Lori.

I feel like this is something I ought to keep to myself. But then again, it's just a friendly hug. Nothing more, nothing less. Although Rick is quite tall. About the same height as Daryl, in fact. But the hug isn't near as good as it is with Daryl. Nothing can compare to Daryl Dixon.

I can tell this is helping him. He's not talked to... anyone really, appart from giving orders. He's needed comfort for so long. He's in charge of this whole group. Our lives. And I don't know about the rest of the people, but I trust him.

(A/N)
Hey, so... I'm thinking about wrapping this story up soon. Maybe a couple more chapters and then that'll be it...