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Title: Ten Gallon Lies
Fandom: Walking Dead
Characters: Glenn, Rick Grimes
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1838
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Summary: This fic was written for dreamofstars in Yuletide 2010. It also can be found on ao3 here.. This is my first Walking Dead fic. Walking Dead is, on the surface, not my thing. But I love the characters.
It had something to do with the stupid Stetson.
Once the thought entered Glenn’s head, he couldn’t shake it. Everything that had happened since Rick had joined them – from their escape from the store in Atlanta to watching the CDC self-destruct into a flaming pile of rumble – was all due to that stupid hat.
He could clearly remember he first time he saw Rick, back before he knew who he was, back when they were scavenging in the store, trying to keep a low profile and stay clear of the geeks. Glenn had been on the roof, keeping lookout, when Rick rode into town on a horse as if he were some idiot cowboy in an Eastwood western. Glenn almost stopped watching once the walkers swarmed Rick and the horse, not really wanting to see some poor fool – no matter how dumb – turned into just other mindless, hungry horror. But he hadn’t been able to look away.
No. All because of that damn hat. People who wore hats like that were the heroes of the movie. They had the clever one-liners, the steely calm, and the impossible luck of always being right. They were the ones Glenn and his friends would make fun of when they watched those old films. Yet, all those days ago, when he’d been looking at the hat, lying untouched in the middle of the hoard of walkers, Glenn knew, just knew, that it’s owner had gotten safely into the tank, even before Rick had popped out of the top and proved him right.
That had been when Glenn broke out the radio and made contact, trying to see if the man fit the image. Rick didn’t disappoint. "Whoever you are, I don’t mind telling you I'm a little concerned in here." For a man as screwed as he was, Rick’s perfect deadpan delivery of that understatement was exactly the comment Glenn had expected. It was why Glenn had to stuck out his neck to help him.
Well, that and the fact that Glenn couldn’t leave anyone to die without at least trying to help. No matter how much of a dumbass the guy was.
Of course, it turned out that Rick wasn’t a complete dumbass. At least not all the time.
Glenn tossed another log on the fire, listening to the snap and hiss of the wood. Rick’s lanky frame leaned up against a tree on the edge of the camp, Stetson still tilted down where it had blocked the rays of the setting sun hours ago. Rick stared off toward Atlanta, toward the spot where the pillar of smoke had risen from the ruins of the CDC. Rick hadn’t said much since they’d left Atlanta. None of them had. What was there to say, after all?
Although, if anyone could say the right thing, it’d be Rick. No matter how stupid it was, Rick made it all seem so right. Whatever he said, it was as if it were the only, obvious choice. As if he had no fears, no doubts that it would work, that it was the only thing to do. That no matter how dire, it was nothing to be more than a “little concerned” about. Staring that Rick’s silhouette, topped off by that ridiculous hat, it was easy to believe that he really didn’t have any doubts at all. That he had all the answers and that he knew exactly what to do. There was never any doubt that he’d do exactly what he said.
Rick turned, straightened his hat and walked toward the fire, keeping his eyes on the darkness that now surrounded them.
He motioned to Glenn. “Let’s check the perimeter,” he said.
Glenn nodded and followed. Rick paused at the edge of the darkness and waited for him to catch up. He put a hand on Glenn’s shoulder and nodded at the dark surrounding them.
“Just wait a minute. Keep looking into the woods.”
Glenn frowned, but did as he was asked.
“Give your eyes some time to adjust to the dark. It’ll take maybe 20 minutes to adjust fully, but you’ll see a difference in 5 or 10. We’ll wait for a bit, then go.”
Glenn peered into the darkness, all shadows and inky blankness, and nodded. He wasn’t stupid, he knew about night vision.
“When you’re on watch, be sure never to stare into the fire or a flashlight, otherwise you’ll have to wait for your eyes to adjust again.”
“You learn that in the Boy Scouts?” Glenn asked. It seemed like the type of thing they’d teach in the Boy Scouts, just like it seemed that Rick would have been one.
“No. Reading Louis L’Amour westerns.”
Glenn laughed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
He could feel Rick shrug beside him. “My grandfather had every book he wrote. There wasn’t much to do when I visited him, so I read.”
Glenn tried to imagine how bored he’d have to be to want to read old westerns and failed.
“They were good books, actually,” Rick said, as if he could tell Glenn’s thoughts.
Glenn didn’t argue. There was a minute or two of companionable silence, and then Rick headed around the outside of the camp. Glenn followed, allowing Rick to lead the way through the dense brush that he still could barely see. As they walked, Rick pointed out areas where something could get close up to camp without being heard. He talked about things they could do to keep them safer. When they got to the road where they came up the mountain, Rick hunkered down and adjusted the make-shift rope-and-can early warning system they had set up.
“Shane thinks we should head down to Fort Benning. I think Dale just wants to find a place to hole up and wait it all out. Although I’m not sure that’s what he really wants, or if it’s just the only thing he has energy for right now. I had all my money on the CDC, and I still think that we’re best looking for something rather than hiding from everything. ” He turned and looked up at Glenn. “What do you think?”
That was the most surprising thing about Rick Grimes. When he looked at Glenn he didn’t see some kid who was barely able to hold down a job as a pizza delivery guy. He didn’t see someone who was a liability or risk. No. From the moment Glenn talked to him on the radio, Rick trusted him. Even after they met, even after Rick saw he was just a kid, Rick followed his directions without debate. And when Glenn first laid out the plan on how he wanted things to go when he went down in the sewers, Rick backed him all the way. Told him to “speak his mind” and they all listened. It was that trust that made Glenn confident enough to lay out his plan on how to get the guns back. It gave him the courage to keep them from burning the bodies of their friends. Rick treated him as an equal.
It took some getting used to. “I don’t know,” Glenn finally said. “I haven’t thought about it.”
Rick nodded, as if it was the perfect answer. “Give it some thought. This concerns you, too. You’re smart and have good ideas. Don’t be shy about voicing them.” He paused a moment then smiled slightly. “Even if you don’t agree with me.” He stood, watching down the road and back toward Atlanta. “It’s always good to have someone make sure your ideas are good ideas and not just your ideas.”
Glenn didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure if there was an answer to that. Rick was always so sure of himself, of his plans and his ideas. It was hard to believe that he really wanted anyone to put up an argument against them.
But then he remembered what Jenner had said, when the countdown was going. That Rick had said he knew it was just a matter of time before everybody he loved was dead. Maybe, just maybe, Rick wasn’t that sure about anything. The idea was both frightening and comforting. Maybe Rick Grimes was just like the rest of them, just like Glenn, fighting to do the best he could.
Anything else was just a lie told by that damn hat.
Fandom: Walking Dead
Characters: Glenn, Rick Grimes
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1838
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Summary: This fic was written for dreamofstars in Yuletide 2010. It also can be found on ao3 here.. This is my first Walking Dead fic. Walking Dead is, on the surface, not my thing. But I love the characters.
It had something to do with the stupid Stetson.
Once the thought entered Glenn’s head, he couldn’t shake it. Everything that had happened since Rick had joined them – from their escape from the store in Atlanta to watching the CDC self-destruct into a flaming pile of rumble – was all due to that stupid hat.
He could clearly remember he first time he saw Rick, back before he knew who he was, back when they were scavenging in the store, trying to keep a low profile and stay clear of the geeks. Glenn had been on the roof, keeping lookout, when Rick rode into town on a horse as if he were some idiot cowboy in an Eastwood western. Glenn almost stopped watching once the walkers swarmed Rick and the horse, not really wanting to see some poor fool – no matter how dumb – turned into just other mindless, hungry horror. But he hadn’t been able to look away.
No. All because of that damn hat. People who wore hats like that were the heroes of the movie. They had the clever one-liners, the steely calm, and the impossible luck of always being right. They were the ones Glenn and his friends would make fun of when they watched those old films. Yet, all those days ago, when he’d been looking at the hat, lying untouched in the middle of the hoard of walkers, Glenn knew, just knew, that it’s owner had gotten safely into the tank, even before Rick had popped out of the top and proved him right.
That had been when Glenn broke out the radio and made contact, trying to see if the man fit the image. Rick didn’t disappoint. "Whoever you are, I don’t mind telling you I'm a little concerned in here." For a man as screwed as he was, Rick’s perfect deadpan delivery of that understatement was exactly the comment Glenn had expected. It was why Glenn had to stuck out his neck to help him.
Well, that and the fact that Glenn couldn’t leave anyone to die without at least trying to help. No matter how much of a dumbass the guy was.
Of course, it turned out that Rick wasn’t a complete dumbass. At least not all the time.
Glenn tossed another log on the fire, listening to the snap and hiss of the wood. Rick’s lanky frame leaned up against a tree on the edge of the camp, Stetson still tilted down where it had blocked the rays of the setting sun hours ago. Rick stared off toward Atlanta, toward the spot where the pillar of smoke had risen from the ruins of the CDC. Rick hadn’t said much since they’d left Atlanta. None of them had. What was there to say, after all?
Although, if anyone could say the right thing, it’d be Rick. No matter how stupid it was, Rick made it all seem so right. Whatever he said, it was as if it were the only, obvious choice. As if he had no fears, no doubts that it would work, that it was the only thing to do. That no matter how dire, it was nothing to be more than a “little concerned” about. Staring that Rick’s silhouette, topped off by that ridiculous hat, it was easy to believe that he really didn’t have any doubts at all. That he had all the answers and that he knew exactly what to do. There was never any doubt that he’d do exactly what he said.
Rick turned, straightened his hat and walked toward the fire, keeping his eyes on the darkness that now surrounded them.
He motioned to Glenn. “Let’s check the perimeter,” he said.
Glenn nodded and followed. Rick paused at the edge of the darkness and waited for him to catch up. He put a hand on Glenn’s shoulder and nodded at the dark surrounding them.
“Just wait a minute. Keep looking into the woods.”
Glenn frowned, but did as he was asked.
“Give your eyes some time to adjust to the dark. It’ll take maybe 20 minutes to adjust fully, but you’ll see a difference in 5 or 10. We’ll wait for a bit, then go.”
Glenn peered into the darkness, all shadows and inky blankness, and nodded. He wasn’t stupid, he knew about night vision.
“When you’re on watch, be sure never to stare into the fire or a flashlight, otherwise you’ll have to wait for your eyes to adjust again.”
“You learn that in the Boy Scouts?” Glenn asked. It seemed like the type of thing they’d teach in the Boy Scouts, just like it seemed that Rick would have been one.
“No. Reading Louis L’Amour westerns.”
Glenn laughed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
He could feel Rick shrug beside him. “My grandfather had every book he wrote. There wasn’t much to do when I visited him, so I read.”
Glenn tried to imagine how bored he’d have to be to want to read old westerns and failed.
“They were good books, actually,” Rick said, as if he could tell Glenn’s thoughts.
Glenn didn’t argue. There was a minute or two of companionable silence, and then Rick headed around the outside of the camp. Glenn followed, allowing Rick to lead the way through the dense brush that he still could barely see. As they walked, Rick pointed out areas where something could get close up to camp without being heard. He talked about things they could do to keep them safer. When they got to the road where they came up the mountain, Rick hunkered down and adjusted the make-shift rope-and-can early warning system they had set up.
“Shane thinks we should head down to Fort Benning. I think Dale just wants to find a place to hole up and wait it all out. Although I’m not sure that’s what he really wants, or if it’s just the only thing he has energy for right now. I had all my money on the CDC, and I still think that we’re best looking for something rather than hiding from everything. ” He turned and looked up at Glenn. “What do you think?”
That was the most surprising thing about Rick Grimes. When he looked at Glenn he didn’t see some kid who was barely able to hold down a job as a pizza delivery guy. He didn’t see someone who was a liability or risk. No. From the moment Glenn talked to him on the radio, Rick trusted him. Even after they met, even after Rick saw he was just a kid, Rick followed his directions without debate. And when Glenn first laid out the plan on how he wanted things to go when he went down in the sewers, Rick backed him all the way. Told him to “speak his mind” and they all listened. It was that trust that made Glenn confident enough to lay out his plan on how to get the guns back. It gave him the courage to keep them from burning the bodies of their friends. Rick treated him as an equal.
It took some getting used to. “I don’t know,” Glenn finally said. “I haven’t thought about it.”
Rick nodded, as if it was the perfect answer. “Give it some thought. This concerns you, too. You’re smart and have good ideas. Don’t be shy about voicing them.” He paused a moment then smiled slightly. “Even if you don’t agree with me.” He stood, watching down the road and back toward Atlanta. “It’s always good to have someone make sure your ideas are good ideas and not just your ideas.”
Glenn didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure if there was an answer to that. Rick was always so sure of himself, of his plans and his ideas. It was hard to believe that he really wanted anyone to put up an argument against them.
But then he remembered what Jenner had said, when the countdown was going. That Rick had said he knew it was just a matter of time before everybody he loved was dead. Maybe, just maybe, Rick wasn’t that sure about anything. The idea was both frightening and comforting. Maybe Rick Grimes was just like the rest of them, just like Glenn, fighting to do the best he could.
Anything else was just a lie told by that damn hat.
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no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 12:52 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 11:47 pm (UTC)From:Rick is my favorite character so I'm thrilled that his voice came through. I also love Glenn, so this was a perfect piece for me.
(And I need a Walking Dead icon)