THE WALKING DEAD IMAGINES

forgotten (rick g.)

plot- reader fears they will be forgotten

word count- 890

warnings- none

Rick and I drudge through the forest, his hand absentmindedly resting on his gun and mine on my katana.

The thick, overgrown foliage makes it hard to maneuver but we continue going. We're trying to make it to some sort of neighborhood or town in order to get some supplies back to Alexandria. It's easier to go through the the woods because not only is it shorter but we have less chance of being seen.

"You good?" Rick mumbles from behind me.

"Yep." I sigh. Rick and I are best friends and sometimes, understandably mistaken for being together. We're close, always have been since before the world went to shit.

When the broadcasts began going out and the government camps were overrun, Rick picked me up from college and we've been with the group ever since.

We come up on a hill and out of instinct, Rick stands in front of me protectively. "You're doing it again." I state humorously.

"Huh?" he asks.

A laugh escapes my lips and I stand next to him, looking out over the hill to a neighborhood. It's nice, not really big but homey. It has that type of feel.

"You're standing in front of me as if I can't protect myself." I remind him.

He laughs too and places his hands on his hips and stands in his usual stance. "I'm sorry." he apologizes while kissing my forehead.

I can't help the warmth that rises in my cheeks as we carefully make our way down the hill and into the neighborhood. I can't prevent my mind from coming up with stories about the people who lived here and what they were like and if they had a dog or a cat.

"There." I say pointing to a house that looks like it hasn't been raided too much. Rick nods and we jog up to the house and knock on the door a couple of times to make sure there are no walkers.

I open the door and begin going through the house and when I get upstairs. The first door I get to, I open and immediately recognize it as a teenage girls room. Band posters cover the walls, ripped jeans and crop tops are scattered amongst the floor and there's a pile of perfumes and lotions on the already crowded dresser.

Deciding its time to change my dirty and worn shirt, I grab a plain t-shirt and replace the one I'm wearing. Out of the corner of my eye I spot a picture frame that holds a picture of a few girls, one of them I assume, the owner of this room.

What ever happened to her and her friends? Did they die? Did they run? Are they living among us? Wherever they are, they're probably forgotten. And that's exactly what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid that all of us and everything we've been through will be a distant, insignificant memory.

With all of these emotions swirling around in my mind, I rush out of the room and run straight into Rick.

"Y/N? Y/N! What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asks me, concern clear within him.

I nod frantically in attempts to assure him of my safety. He checks behind me and then looks back to me, calming me through his intense gaze. He places his hands on my shoulders and examines my expression once more. I make a conscious effort to appear okay.

"What's wrong?" he asks, this time with more sincerity in his tone.

This time I do calm down. My breathing is steady, the rushed beating of my heart has slowed down and I can think clearly.

I think for a moment on how to respond to his question, what I should say.

"Rick, I don't want to be forgotten. I don't want us to be forgotten." I admit.

"What do you mean?" he asks, the usual gruff of his voice very present.

"When all of this finally comes to an end, that's it. I mean, think about all the people we've lost over these years. They're just gone. And so are their families. What if I'm just gonna be forgotten?" I ask all while staring out the window, the thick woods taking my attention.

"That won't happen." I hear Rick state.

Turning around to face him, I raise an eyebrow challengingly. It will happen. It has to happen, right? I'll die and new survivors will take my place. That's the way the world has always worked, apocalyptic or not.

"I could never forget you, even if I tried. You're...forever in my mind, Y/N. I couldn't forget your hair, the color of your eyes," he begins while walking closer to me, his hand reaching out towards my face. "-this scar on your cheek, your freckles. Even after I die, I will never forget you. You've got a special place in my heart, I think."

Unknowingly, a tear slides down my cheek which Rick is quick to wipe away.

"I think that I love you." I confess. It's always been something I know. I'm not sure why I said 'think'.

"Well, I love you too. Always have."

And while our world is uncertain and vast, I have a feeling we will never be forgotten.