terribly sorry, officer (baelfiery) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-06-09 19:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, neal cassidy (baelfire), rick grimes |
Who: Neal Cassidy & Rick Grimes (with appearances by Henry & Carl)
What: The kids go horseback riding, the grownups clean horse troughs and talk
When: Today?
Where: The Ranch
Rating/Warnings: Rick's dreams are a mindfuck, but not nothing much
Status: Complete
Ranch life was very physical, very hard work. It took stamina and endurance, and obviously a love for both horses and the great outdoors was required - Neal couldn’t ask for anything better, really. He’d started off as a ranch hand, the guy who cared for the animals when they were sick or injured, maintained the trails, cleaned tack, even shoveled manure - but then he ended up running the place after the man who hired him, Scott Summers, moved away. What was really fulfilling though, was working with the kids. They didn’t trust easily, far too jaded and burned by the ones in their life who were supposed to give a shit and failed them - but when they finally reached out, even just a little, it was so goddamn rewarding. He’d honestly foster every single one of them if he could - Emma would probably kill him, but hey. Even so, assisting with their rehabilitation was just as good too. Despite running the ranch now and having his own (air-conditioned) office, that didn’t matter when he continued to pitch in with what else needed to be done to keep this outreach center functioning. At Regina’s suggestion (and Henry’s insistence), he’d hired their near-fourteen-year-old to take on some of the dirtier tasks and earn a little extra cash for the summer - something for the kid to do, to keep him busy. Today, he was carrying brushes and buckets to the horse troughs to give them a good scrubdown. Neal would show him how to do it first, not to worry. Mixing up the right solution for the prevention of mold and algae, he gave Henry the bristle brush and told him to put some elbow grease into it while the sun warmed their faces. Neal had a t-shirt to keep cool in and his shades on, plus a hat so his scalp didn’t get scorched. It was a good day for a ride, and he knew he was expecting company - the front desk would direct visitors out to the stables, so he waited, ready to offer up some hospitality to a newcomer and his kid. Anything to help someone settle into this weird-ass place, well, he was happy to do. Given the strain that travel put on his son and how little free time Carl had off of school, Rick did have a significant amount of guilt weighing on moving so far. But with his shifts as a sheriff? It was hard to see him anyways. Luckily, with all the shame or guilt or whatever you'd like to call it, Lori wasn't being as difficult about finding open days to put aside for Rick to fly Carl out to see him. He'd missed his boy so much and only wished he could have done something to absolve the pain from his parents’ divorce. But even for eleven, Carl was a bright and positive kid, good head on his shoulders. The trip excited him, and to spend the whole weekend up north in a popular state full of new sights? Easily satisfied. Well acquainted with heat and humidity, Carl had on some light clothes shirts and shorts--wearing his father’s old King County Deputy hat, wide brimmed to protect his face. It made Rick grin, checking into the lobby for Carl’s first encounter with horses, courtesy of Mr. Cassidy. Of course there were plenty in Georgia but he'd never been riding or able to do much other than see them on the side of the road. “Neal?” Rick called out, his deep Kentucky accent filling the quiet atmosphere that definitely smelled like a barn. Carl was already bouncing on his sneakers to get at the horses, unable to contain his excitement at how close they were, Rick squeezing the smaller boy mirroring his dark brown hair and light blue eyes by the shoulder in gentle reminder not to scare them. “Hope this is still a good time. Finally got Carl on up out here.” “Rick, hey!” Neal greeted him like they were old pals - he was a friendly guy anyway, able to get along with most anyone. That had come in handy during his youth when he was a troubled kid like the ones who just got out of juvie here - he could sell a ketchup popsicle to a woman wearing white gloves (or con a police officer out of a ticket). Now, he just loved what he did and it showed. “Sure thing, it’s a great time. Come on over. Henry - “ He whistled to get the kid’s attention, and Neal’s mini-me dropped the brush for a moment to join them. Henry resembled Neal, whereas Niko looked more like Emma (the ‘Charming’ side in general, blonde hair, green eyes) - though both definitely had that crooked smile Neal sported so easily. “This is my son, Henry,” he introduced them. “His brother’s about to turn a year old, but he’s with the daycare we’ve got going on here.” At the ranch, they did shelter a few teenage mothers - another idea of Emma’s that had taken of; it was personal to her, and Neal understood. “Henry, this is Rick and his son Carl - you’ll introduce Carl to Cleopatra, right?” She was a sweet mare that would be good for the kid’s first go at riding a horse. “Nice to meet you,” Henry grinned. “Yep, Cleopatra’s the best.” An easy smile came to Rick’s face, just as easy going, southern born and raised to be polite--a real officer friendly. Minus all that had gone down in the rapidly growing nightmares he’d been having. Not dreams, not memories, nightmares. The way the world changed, people changed, how being officer friendly was not going to keep him alive. How it mirrored this world in a way was somewhat disturbing, like reliving a different agony, but Rick internalized everything as usual, diving into work and focusing on his son. Carl felt extra important to be hanging around older kids with responsibility, and only showed his shyness for a brief moment before politely saying hello. Rick however, paused at the sight of Neal. There was something about him. He'd seen him, in his dreams, right before the first winter… “Make sure you take after what Henry says, Carl. He knows what he's doing.” Carl was already moving to follow Henry to find Cleopatra. “I got it dad--is she Cleopatra because she's from Egypt?” Hopefully Henry had the tolerance to handle Carl. He was a smart boy--but because he asked so many questions, still young, still innocent, away from the terror of those nightmares. “I hope we're not keeping you from work or anything. I appreciate you inviting us out.” Rick said politely, though his crystal blue eyes were watching Neal carefully. Trying to make sure he wasn't losing his mind. “Nah, she’s from around here,” Henry chuckled, getting the saddle and - he was pretty well-versed with horseback riding by now - setting up the old lady for a quick ride. “But she’s kinda regal, like a Queen. I’ll take out Jasmine.” Who was a sleek-looking, onyx-colored mare hanging out next to Cleopatra; she made a chuffing noise, obviously wanting in on the conversation. Henry didn’t mind the questions though, considering he was just as inquisitive. And there may be a couple years between he and Carl but he could still make a new friend, Neal hoped. Hell, maybe Neal could make a new friend too. He let the boys get situated with the horses, Henry showing Carl the ropes, and he hung back to chat with Rick. “I’m here pretty often, so it’s no trouble,” he assured. Work would get done when it got done - there were multiple hands to pitch in. “I hope Carl has fun. I know that living in the OC is...uh - “ He glanced at Rick, trying to think of how to word it. “Difficult to get used to sometimes. You said you started having odd dreams?” Neal thought he’d read something about that on the network; he tried to keep up with all the posts but sometimes with a full-time job and two kids, it got to be a lot. Carl was nothing but ecstatic about to ride a regal, queen type horse. Most of the animals in Georgia were for farming or shows and he wasn't allowed to touch them, only watch. He patted Cleo’s side gently, watching how Henry put on the saddles and feared the horses up. “He’s in heaven right now.” Rick didn't even have to look away to know it, his focus was on Neal, shifting the weight in his stance. No one in the dreams was rightfully the same as they were here--right? So this didn't mean that Neal was secretly Mr. Nebraska looking to get his real world revenge. What was even real anymore? “A lot of them. Things I wished I'd never known, and hopefully Carl doesn't get to. And you, or someone who happens to look like you was in one. Different name, no son to mention, just odd.” “I hear that happens sometimes - people look similar, I mean,” Neal shared. “But trust me, we don’t dream of the same place. Mine take place in a town called Storybrooke, mainly - but I grew up in a place called Misthaven as the son of Rumpelstiltskin, so, you know. Fairytales.” He had to roll his eyes a little. “It wasn’t as benign as it sounds. Mainly it was a roller coaster, though I did have Henry in the dreams too. For a little while - then I died.” On the forest floor, with his father surrounding him and in the arms of the woman he’d always love. Then he went off to the equivalent of Heaven while she banged the same pirate who banged Neal’s mom. Great. He watched the kids, adjusting his hat - they started off on their ride, side by side cowboys in the ol’ west. It was kind of adorable (though both were too old to want to be called adorable). “Just keep Carl away from the network, and he won’t start to dream - we had the same concerns with Henry, so we keep him sheltered from all of that. Yours are pretty intense though, huh?” Rick was more than relieved to hear the news of who Neal was--he'd take an odd storybook life over the shit he’d been dreaming up. It made him feel sick in the head. He kept a pale by his bed for the extra awful nights when he woke up, sick to his stomach, body and mind overcome and exhausted from the alternate reality and its hardships. Nothing he'd wish on anyone. No matter how betrayed he'd felt by Lori or Shane. No one deserved to live in the aftermath of death and sickness that took the world. “Should be easy to do if I lock his computer and load ‘em up on comic books.” Thankfully Carl’s stays would be short enough to spend most of his time with Rick and no probable way to the network. With a hefty sigh, the sheriff shook his head lightly. “It's something out of a horror movie. One that doesn't end. There's just death and pain and suffering everywhere. Sometimes I forget which is real and just the nightmares.” Comic books. That made Neal grin a bit, knowingly. “Yeah, Henry loves comic books too - he’s got a pretty impressive collection and last year even asked to go to one of those con things for his birthday. He and Carl will get along like peas and carrots and be in comic book utopia.” But then his smile faded into something more serious, a look of sympathy - and understanding, since he knew what it was like to be confused about what was real and what wasn’t. He’d ended up possessed by a version of his insane father, driven mad by Zelena’s torture for a time, and it had messed with his head real bad; at the time, he’d sought out a counselor and wasn’t ashamed to do so. “You talk to anyone about it? We have a couple therapists on the network, who dream too - one is also kind of a mage, my wife knows him because of that magic connection,” Neal replied, grabbing the bristle brush again to give the trough a scrub while they talked - he’d take over where Henry left off. “That’s a thing too, people get magic. And other powers. Not everything crosses over though. If it helps, keep some things near where you sleep to remind you what’s real - this life is real, and sometimes Orange County is weird but it’s not a nightmare.” Like how people kept bursting into song at random? Weird, but definitely something he’d take over demons and hellmouths. “I reckon they're a regular match made in heaven then.” And Rick was glad that Carl would have a friend here, not feel out of place in a big city when all he'd known was a small county where everyone knew everyone. Come out of that shell a little bit. Rick’s smile fell at the mention of magic--there it was again, and he really didn't want to hear it anymore. Despite all of the unexplainable things that had happened. With a heavy sigh, he let his hands fall to his belt, watching Neal with the brush and motioned to the work. “Want some help with that?” Apparently Rick did have a hard time communicating--or avoiding confrontation. “I've got a councilor, back in Georgia but it was for divorce. Something tells me that's too basic for what's happening here.” At least that they could agree on. “Don't know about all this magic talk though. But I guess if the dead are living in my dreams, then, what else is possible.” This place wasn't a nightmare, no, but the dreams felt like a cruel, overbearing enactment of brutality that a man like Rick wasn’t used to, but apparently had the knack to adapt at the cost of his sanity to protect the ones he loved. “That's a great idea, I think I'll keep it right next to my sick bucket.” It helped to know he wasn't alone in this in the very least. “Magic, aliens, fuck knows what else. It takes some time to wrap your head around,” Neal agreed, and he wasn’t the biggest fan of magic at first - in that other world, it never did anything good for him. In fact, it had torn his family apart. But here, things were different. He was supportive of Emma as she learned and studied with her fellow practitioners, and besides, he had friends with magic who had saved his ass on more than one occasion. On a personal level, he knew a lot about the craft but he didn’t feel any desire to really learn. Not even potion-making or simple tricks, nope. He handed Rick a spare brush, with a grateful smile. “Wouldn’t say no to the other trough getting done - sometimes digging in and doing some dirty work can feel rewarding, and it helps with things. Or at the very least, if you have a physical job it tires you out to the point where you sleep pretty deeply.” At least, he’d used that trick once or twice. It seemed to work well, sometimes. Oh great, aliens too. Maybe if Rick did a little reading up on Carl’s comic books and he’d be better prepared. Rick took the brush, mirroring the smile and got to work on helping with that other trough Neal was hinting at. He was from the south--he knew how to get his hands dirty and hard work was nothing he was allergic to. Especially for an officer who did anywhere up to eleven hour shifts. “Being a an officer has it’s days, just like any other. But the hours alone are enough to put me out. Not that I look forward to that anymore.” He huffed lightly even though Neal was right. Sounded almost like Dale for a moment, but he put that sad memory out of his mind. “How long have you been here dealing with this? If you don’t mind me asking.” Because as ‘bad’ as the situation was, and the warnings, and complaining on the network, no one was going anywhere or trying to do anything about it. “Oh man - “ Neal actually had to think about it; felt like he’d been here for like a decade, even though it clearly wasn't that long. “Almost three years? I’m originally from Detroit but I never really put roots down until moving here. Last job I had was a gambling manager in Vegas, then I just kind of came further west until stopping in the OC. It felt right at the time.” Scrub, scrub, scrub - he did like he told Henry to do, he put some elbow grease into it. He could carry on a conversation at the same time too, and it was comfortable. “I got a job as a ranch hand at the center, met some new friends, ended up reconnecting with my son’s mother - last time we’d met was, uh, pretty brief.” Meaning it had been a one-night stand and he had no clue Emma had gotten pregnant. “So we started dating and, hey, here we are. Married and we have another kid now too. Good things happen sometimes. I don’t regret coming out here.” “Three years?” The sheriff repeated incredulously, glancing up only briefly from the trough before letting out a puff of air and getting back to the brushing. Maybe some just had a stronger stomach than him. Their backs a little thicker--but wasn’t that what everyone had questioned Rick on in the dreams? That he didn’t have the heart or what it took to survive in that new world. Well they were wrong. Rick adapted, he survived, and kept going. Even if it meant changing for the worst. At least there was a silver lining in the midst of Neal’s story. It almost made Rick smile again. Though he doubted he could go back to Lori after what she’d done, go back to that town. Maybe he could find his own peace here--minus the heavyset dreams. “Sometimes,” he repeated with a chuckle this time, shaking his head briefly, “ Well, sometimes is better than none at all I guess. There’s...problems wherever you go. Just in different packages. Maybe some that don’t involve the dead or aliens or magic. Guess if you all could get along here then I will too.” “Exactly. Life’s a whole mix of good and bad - but I think you’ll definitely settle in here. This wacky place becomes home,” Neal grinned encouragingly. “And hey, you ever want to come out and hop on a horse yourself, or help me clean the troughs again - “ He shrugged, teasing a little, like it’d be no big deal. But truth be told, he would enjoy the company. “The doors are open to you.” Well, technically, they were in the middle of the open air and the great outdoors - but surely Rick knew what he meant. At that point, the intrepid explorers came riding on back, Henry having proven he could navigate the horse trail just fine on his own. He was pretty pleased about it too. “Well, hey there,” Neal called to them. “You guys have fun?” That was something Rick wanted to believe, and given he has no other options, may as well deal with it. Chuckling, “I haven't been on a horse in years but given how much fun it looks like those two are having I won't have a choice in the matter.” Carl's face was nothing short of pure bliss and happiness. He didn't get to get out much, his mom was pretty protective, as was Rick, but the boy needed to get out and find himself. Make good friends like Henry. “Dad! Can we come back here all the time? Do you think I can get a horse too? This was awesome.” Not even trying to stifle the laugh, Rick nodded back to Neal. “I think you've got your answer right there my friend.” “It was awesome!” Henry echoed. “We saw all sorts of cool stuff.” Not snakes, Neal hoped - he wouldn’t have wanted the horses to be spooked. But the plant life, desert flowers, other critters out here in what was basically the ‘wild wild west’? It was definitely like Christmas for an adventurous kid. “Well, good, you’re welcome back anytime,” Neal promised, helping to guide the horses back into the stables. Henry dismounted properly from the saddle. “Now she needs to be groomed, right?” Washed down, some soap and suds, cleaning off the dirt and grime from the ride. Neal was just so proud. He nodded. “We’ll let you two handle that. After that, it might be time for a food break. I’ll show you guys the cafe around the corner that does the best steak and eggs.” Maybe not as great as what you’d find in the south, but pretty darn close! Carl was right along after Henry like a little shadow, adjusting his deputy hat and holding Cleo’s bridal, bright blue eyes practically glistening at the idea of steak and eggs. He looked to Rick as if making sure this was going to happen. Rick was not a man to turn down steak and eggs. Or hospitality. “You make sure you help Henry with that and we’ll treat the Cassidy’s to the meal on account of them being so welcoming. Sound good?” Rick didn't even need to ask, Carl had already given him a salute, pattering alongside to learn more about taking care of horses. Well, shit. If Rick could only picture that face every time he woke up with a nightmare he may just be able to get by. “And next time you'll have to let Carl and I cook you a real southern meal. Nothing beats a diner but we know how to make some chicken and waffles.” “Chicken and waffles??” The look on Neal’s face - if he could have, he’d have married Rick right then. It was more than obvious he was drooling a little at the idea (okay, not literally - but when was the last time he’d had chicken and waffles? Not since he was actually in the south, and that hadn’t been for eons). “Wow. I think those are the magic words. Come and tell me more about your recipe...” Such a beautiful start to friendship this was. |